“What’s that on your neck? There’s a strange energy about it—looks almost like a bite mark.”
“Hm?”
“Did a spirit beast get you? That can’t be right. With your senses...”
“It’s your senses that are the problem. I told you to cut back on the opium. The famed azure of Bengcheng is starting to see things.”
Jeong Yeon-shin answered calmly as he stepped out of his quarters, deliberately ignoring the ambiguous look on Hwangbo the Rascal’s face as he caught the tail end of his gaze.
Ever since he had shown Flamesteel, he’d been absorbed in meditation—an uncharacteristic sight. It seemed to have sharpened his senses.
Unnecessarily so.
As Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head, Hyeon Won-chang leaned against the stone wall and scoffed.
“An opium addict taking up meditation.”
“I thought he’d only drown himself in the famed fruit liquor of Heavenly Pillar Gate.”
The playful remark came from Shin So-bin, who was swinging her foot idly while gazing at her leader.
The Swordsman of Ipwang Fortress and White Cat—the bright gleam of their swords and the long, flowing locks of blue and black swayed gently.
“We’re heading back now, right?”
Shin So-bin’s eyes remained fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin as she asked.
From the moment she joined Ma Gwang-ik, she had never hesitated to meet his gaze.
It wasn’t arrogance—just an innate boldness. She carried the air of someone raised with love, in a family that valued her.
To Jeong Yeon-shin, that was what nobility looked like.
He gave a quiet nod.
She’ll probably earn a proper moniker soon enough.
Her Peerless Monkey King Fist was worthy of claiming the throne of all primates.
“We’re leaving.”
It was an order.
The footsteps trailing behind him were distinct in their own ways.
Some were light and relaxed, others silent and swift, and some—small yet full of power—treaded steadily.
All of them comrades bound under the same name.
Crunch.
Their quiet steps continued, the dewdrops clinging to the blades of grass dampening their soles.
As they passed through the dazzlingly verdant mountains, they arrived at the clearing where they had once engaged in combat.
If they went straight through, they’d reach the exit.
But now, the area was filled with heads of black and gold—disciples of Heavenly Pillar Gate stood, awaiting them.
“Ma Gwang-ik.”
A weathered voice rang out.
The sect leader, Cheong Bohwa, stepped forward and raised both hands.
The delicate blue sleeves of her fine silk robe cascaded downward like flowing water.
It was a formal bow.
Her posture—bending forward, then straightening again—was one of deep respect.
Swoosh.
A soundless ripple followed.
The martial elites of noble lineage behind her mirrored the gesture in perfect unison.
It was as natural as breathing—a crisp breeze swept through, as if stirred by their very movement.
A faint smile settled into the creases around Cheong Bohwa’s lips.
“For the time being, the Night Warfare Division will need to focus on restoring the sect. Thanks to you, the main branch can finally breathe.”
“I avenged a comrade.”
“You took on that child’s enmity?”
Her gaze shifted toward Cheongmyeong.
Aged eyes reflected complex emotions.
A grandson who had broken the village’s taboos to leave his clan had now returned with a leader who dismantled Ten-Mile One Kill.
With a movement technique that seemed to mourn the fallen Cheongsu, who had been caught in the sect wars.
Cheongmyeong said nothing in response.
He only glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin, a faint smile curling his lips.
The Blue Peace Sword of Ma Gwang-ik smiled transparently.
The hem of his azure headscarf fluttered freely, heedless of the stares around him.
Even as his former junior brother, Jeong Nan-song, hesitated before him, unable to find the words.
Cheong Bohwa sighed softly, the corners of her eyes creasing further.
“The world is full of things one can never predict. Not even after living for centuries. Who would have thought I’d descend from my homeland to this place? Or that a boy who left as if to sever all ties would return, bringing you with him?”
“What does it feel like? Living for so long?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked idly.
Cheong Bohwa’s smile deepened, warm with wisdom.
“Like becoming a tree.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s no need to. Trust me.”
And so, their farewell to Heavenly Pillar Gate was settled.
There were no parting words exchanged between Cheongmyeong and his clan.
Like shifting currents of wind brushing past each other, their connection remained silent yet present.
It was a clan steeped in mystery.
Before he left, Cheong Bohwa gifted Jeong Yeon-shin a small gourd flask—a concentrated elixir from the lake, said to work instantly on internal injuries.
It was worth more than any medicine in the world.
The noble clans did not give gifts lightly.
“I want that.”
The Sword Corps Commander smacked his lips.
They had just left Heavenly Pillar Gate when he spoke.
And now, there was nothing left to sense from his entire being.
His purple scholar’s robes remained utterly unshaken by the strong valley winds.
A sight as serene as it was transcendent.
“We part ways here. I need to head straight to Zhejiang. Regardless, I owe you my thanks. And I must say, you made quite the impression.”
“Is it urgent?”
“The Purple Cloaks have their own matters. Painfully troublesome and utterly fantastical.”
The Sword Corps Commander smirked cryptically.
“I trust you’ll lend me a hand someday. Stay alive.”
“Take care as well.”
The moment Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his hands in a formal fist-and-palm salute, the Sword Corps Commander had already turned his back and was waving a hand dismissively.
The footsteps of a Martial God were incomprehensible.
His strides upon the snow-dusted ground differed from those of noble clansmen.
They seemed unhurried—yet in the blink of an eye, he was already far away.
Jeong Yeon-shin watched his retreating figure for a moment before turning.
“Let’s go.”
Their brief mission had come to an end.
A crystal-clear wind swept over his crown.
Before he knew it—winter was fading away.
***
The white walls of the capital stretched out before him.
Ipwang Fortress was unusually bright at midday. It was thanks to the marble that made up the inner walls—sunlight cascading down the fortress walls created a striking scene.
The rustling leaves and the bustling crowds all contributed to the same vivid picture.
As soon as he arrived, Jeong Yeon-shin went straight to the General Bureau.
After reporting the completion of his mission, he immediately set off for the One-Peak Sword Hall.
There wasn’t a single task assigned to Ipwang Fortress’s commander that was unimportant. It was said that only those ranked in blue had the experience of receiving orders at the residence of Magwangik or the General Bureau.
To take on a new mission, he had no choice but to attend the commanders’ assembly.
‘My condition is at its peak.’
Just then—
A dull pain flared in his knee.
Jeong Yeon-shin paid it no mind and kept walking.
By now, he was certain.
It was growing pains, expanding the range of his movements. For a martial artist, the length of their limbs was a crucial factor that significantly supported their internal energy and movement techniques.
But at the same time, it was also a harbinger of death, confirming that he was gradually aging.
Lately, the crown point on his head had been feeling unnaturally cold, making him acutely aware of his dwindling lifespan.
Two years and ninety-one days.
That was the time he had left.
While recovering in the lake of the Celestial Tree, he had confirmed it with absolute clarity.
“Ma Gwang-ikju.”
“Commander, you’ve returned.”
“You remain as imposing as ever. It seems the scope of your law is ever expanding.”
“It looks like messenger birds will soon be pouring into the capital.”
Every time he passed by the warriors of the capital, they greeted him with respect. It was said that the merits achieved by the great commanders of the Divine Sword Corps became well known throughout the fortress.
The achievements of the current Ma Gwang-ik had gradually earned him the favor of other martial forces.
There was a sense of reverence in the way they approached him.
Though each of them possessed different temperaments, they all showed him a similar degree of deference.
This would become the foundation for his eventual recognition as a Purple Rank.
Even if he were to die young, there would be those who would remember his name.
‘Yes. It’s fine.’
Jeong Yeon-shin was gradually reaching a state of detachment.
Perhaps it was because he had absorbed the belligerent nature of Ipwang Fortress.
Maybe it was the reassurance that his name would not vanish even in death.
The deeper his desire to remain with these people for a long time grew, the more his mind was torn in two.
Now, he was ready to go meet his mother.
But that didn’t mean he particularly wanted to die.
Step.
He planted his foot firmly.
Jeong Yeon-shin maintained his expressionless composure, concealing his emotions.
He buried his fear and pride within the radiance of his heart’s core.
Countless murmurs reached his ears.
The most dignified nobleman in the capital, the undefeated commander, a genius among the ten greatest talents in the world, someone who could challenge the Young Lord of the Ming Sect, the favored one of Ipwang Fortress’s Lord...
Officials, merchants, warriors, and attendants—each spoke in their own tone.
The last remark resonated with him the most.
Dying really would be a waste.
“Seomye! Your face looks so much brighter!”
Lost in thought, he suddenly found himself inside the vast stone chamber of the One-Peak Sword Hall.
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Ak Su-rim greeted him with a beaming smile.
“The water there must have been really good, huh? I shouldn’t have let that bastard Yongga take his share.”
“Deputy Commander, I report my safe return. What about the Commander...?”
“I know, I know! Anyway, you look like you’ve gotten taller again. You’re at an age where common folks would be arranging marriages. When should I start preparing for mine?”
“I’ll consider it once I become Purple Rank.”
He had just come from contemplating his death.
Jeong Yeon-shin responded to his senior’s teasing without hesitation.
For a moment, Ak Su-rim stared at him blankly before bursting into a chuckle.
She flicked the ends of her jet-black bob and brushed a hand over her pale nape, exuding an air both hearty and combative.
Her gaze, unflinchingly raking over Jeong Yeon-shin’s entire body, didn’t feel rude.
“So, you’re saying you want to compete for the next commander’s seat?”
Ak Su-rim’s lips curled.
Whoosh.
The air shifted.
A wild yet exuberant sensation brushed against his skin.
It felt as though an enormous blade had spread out like a blanket, lightly scraping over him.
He could sense Ak Su-rim’s will within her energy.
The way she toyed with her spear felt less like mischief and more like the ennui of a seasoned warrior.
She truly was a supreme master closest to claiming the seat of the next Divine Sword Commander.
There had been no competition when moving from Blue Rank to Black Rank.
The strongest contender, Cheongmyeong, had willingly stepped back, setting aside his accumulated merits and influence.
But Purple Rank was different.
“Our Seomye really has grown at a ridiculous pace. Before, I could always picture my guaranteed victory against you, but now? It’s hard to gauge. You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”
She prattled on, leaning in, her small face drawing close.
Jeong Yeon-shin subtly tilted his head back.
Ak Su-rim didn’t know about his lifespan.
That only made her an even stronger opponent.
To him, she was nothing less than an insurmountable wall.
Having created the Final Thunder technique and refining it to rival the Three Harmonious Essence, it was time for him to seriously engage in merit-based competition.
He changed the subject.
“The assembly hall feels empty. Are you the only one here, Senior?”
Whoosh.
Ak Su-rim withdrew her energy, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“Oh, Blood Restoration Commander was just here. Jin Myeongjo, you know? The moment he heard you’d returned, he left. Said he suddenly remembered some urgent business with the main division.”
“Ah.”
A hint of regret flickered across his face.
Divine Blood Demon Jin Myeongjo.
The senior most worthy of respect within the Divine Sword Corps.
Since their last mission in Shanxi, it had been a long time since they’d crossed paths.
The Blood Restoration Commander was the epitome of a perfect martial artist.
“You really like your seniors, huh, Seomye? That’s great. So, do you want to head out on your next mission right away...?”
“I don’t mind. I’ll leave immediately.”
Ak Su-rim snorted at his immediate response.
“Good. There’s something that requires a small, elite team. No need to bring all of Magwangik. We’ll assign tasks and send them ahead....”
She trailed off, studying him.
“Are you any good at teaching? The target is a supreme grandmaster, but the middle steps are a bit cumbersome. We need to drag out a very insidious bastard. The goal is to have the Granddaughter of the Gongye Clan in Shanxi win the martial tournament. Think you can handle it?”
“I will prepare her for a duel against a supreme grandmaster.”
Jeong Yeon-shin answered plainly.
He didn’t even bother addressing the teaching aspect.
It wasn’t a matter of whether it was possible.
He had already adjusted his perspective to accommodate the instincts of monkeys.
At Tianzhu Sect, he had expanded his knowledge as a noble insect among the Myriad Clans.
There was no way anything beneath that level could exist.
‘Fortune smiles upon me.’
The Ma Gwang-ik thought to himself.