Mangsan, near Taewon Province.
A faint disturbance stirred the otherwise tranquil valley.
Saaa—
The camellia trees, their branches wrapped in a hazy mist, let out a low, whispering cry as they welcomed the unexpected guests. The intruder’s feet, burning with internal energy, scorched the leaves as they rushed past.
"Owol Daesalmun suffered losses during the Heavenly Demon Tomb uprising?"
"That’s right."
The silent darkness of the forest was broken by the presence of people.
The rustling of grass and the whisper of movement trailed behind the figures like the tail of a comet. Each step sent a piercing shockwave through the air.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s movement technique was anything but subtle. He soared forward with grand strides, and Shin So-bin, following closely behind, was just as ostentatious.
Unlike them, Salhyup, leading at the front, moved with Phantom Flight, his steps devoid of any presence.
Hyeon Won-chang, too, remained eerily silent, but he couldn't fully suppress his Phantom Flight due to the ongoing conversation with Tae Yeom-ryong.
“...However, the branches we’re visiting now weren’t involved in that incident. That’s why they survived. The only reason the main family members held captive at the Mo Yong Clan and Taemo Fortress didn't break under torture was because they had no knowledge of it.”
"So they were tangled in this mess too? That stench of aristocracy again. These martial nobility, always preaching righteousness—how amusing. No doubt they’re funneling money into the nearest government office as we speak."
"You don’t need to console me. My mind is already clouded with the upcoming trial."
"Console you? As if."
"Regardless, using valuable time for personal matters and failing... That would be an utter disgrace, both in the eyes of our Grand Master and in light of the Gwang-ye-gyeol secret manual. I’d have no face left to show."
"It’s strange that a branch sect gets to decide whether to acknowledge the main sect’s people or not."
"Owol Daesalmun’s predecessor, Geumga Salmun, was always that kind of clan and sect. To prevent the loss of their secret techniques, they split their martial arts formulas among the branches, allowing them to survive independently. Some remained righteous, others fell to the Demonic Sect."
"A fragmented remnant of the Bright Sect? A gatekeeper clan of the Heavenly Demon Tomb?"
"Something like that. A distant collateral branch, if you will. However, even if a new Heavenly Demon were to rise today, the Salmun would no longer follow them."
"This trial of yours—it’s not something ridiculous like seven days and nights of breath-holding with the Ghost Breath Technique, is it?"
"Not quite. Though, you’re not entirely wrong."
A rich, melodious voice drifted from beneath Salhyup’s black hat.
"You’ll find out soon enough, but rather than testing assassination skills, it’s more about personal martial prowess. The key is whether the one inheriting the secret technique can defend themselves. There may be some peculiar contraptions like the Diamond Bronze Men of Shaolin, or perhaps a test of the Sword Path."
"And you can just tell me this outright? I thought Salmun matters were supposed to be secret."
"I’m not confident I could handle both Seon-hwi and you at the same time."
A faint chuckle laced Salhyup’s words.
"And besides, if you’re Seon-hwi’s friend, that makes you only a few degrees removed from me as well. The blood of Salmun runs strong. In the end, it always pulls one back to their roots. Always."
"You’re speaking as if our Great Snow Sword (Dae-seolggeom) is about to walk out on Ma Gwang-ik."
"Take my words with a grain [N O V E L I G H T] of salt. The sect originates from the Demonic Sect, after all. Ever since I was a child, this place has been filled with nonsense. In the end, we couldn’t stop the combined assault of the great sects, nor the kidnappings of our direct lineage."
Hyeon Won-chang, uncharacteristically, spoke with irritation.
Salhyup did not reply. Only the bitter sound of his quiet laughter brushed against the undergrowth beneath their feet.
***
Bright Sunlight
The golden sunlight poured down in brilliant streams.
The streets stretched wide under the open sky, bustling with people. The main road was alive with noise.
"Just plant this seed, and your land will become fertile! This is the Su-mi Seed, brought straight from Xinjiang! Ah, just take a chance and wait a year! It’s incredibly rare! I swear, I’m not lying!"
"Come to the tavern with the greatest chef in the land! We have Dongpo Pork tastier than anything you'll find in Hangzhou!"
"Is it true that the Zhuge Clan Leader is dead? The Imperial Sword is getting involved in the martial world of Shanxi?"
"They say he was killed by the Black Warrior of Ipwang Fortress... That Seomye, the Lotus Manifestation. The entire martial world is in an uproar. Even the Ha Trading Company suffered a huge loss."
"Of course! It wasn’t just some nobody—the Reincarnated Hidden Dragon himself is dead! This isn’t just a martial world issue; even the merchant world is going to feel the aftershocks... The investors in Wolseongmun took a huge hit, but I guess waiting a bit longer turned out to be the right move."
"I’m thinking of making some connections with Ipwang Fortress’s Shanxi Branch while I have the chance."
"That place? No way... Isn’t the branch leader just a newly promoted Blue Rank warrior? Strong, sure, but I’d rather work with a Beijing noble. Shanxi’s martial world is a lost cause. Even the Black Warriors who came to take down the Zhuge Clan Leader will probably leave soon."
The streets were a chaotic mix of different people.
At a glance, one could see countless nobles walking around. As expected of Shanxi’s provincial capital.
The drought hadn’t yet reached this city, the greatest in Shanxi. It was like Ipwang Fortress’s home province, Yangyang.
Well-maintained taverns lined the streets, their facades gleaming. Beneath one of the second-floor windows, the lively morning market bustled with energy, far from the tranquility one might expect at this hour.
"Everyone, run! War! A civil war is coming! The martial noble families have raised an army!"
"Do you think the Imperial Army and Ipwang Fortress are blind? Stop talking nonsense... Just eat your mooncake."
"It’s Sim Mu-ryeon! They’ll come to claim ownership of your land—yours and mine! I swear it’s true!"
"Even if that’s the case, it’ll only be the martial artists who lose their heads. This is Shanxi. Beijing is right next door. The only ones who’ll die are the vagabonds without identification. No matter how ruthless Sim Mu-ryeon is, they wouldn’t dare touch the commoners who pay their tribute."
—Ssskk.
Jeong Yeon-shin leaned his elbow on the ochre-stained table.
He had just arrived in Taewon after a long journey.
The sturdy texture of the wooden surface pressed against the dust-covered hem of his robe. Resting his chin on the back of his hand, he effortlessly blended into the role of a wandering traveler.
A few passersby glanced up at him from the street, looking through the window. Jeong Yeon-shin, however, met their eyes without a hint of discomfort, simply watching them in silence.
The naïve boy who once tried to enter Ipwang Fortress without knowing the ways of the world was long gone.
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Sim Mu-ryeon... That was one of the great martial armies, wasn’t it?
From his sunlit spot on the second floor, he could take in the myriad lives unfolding below.
Street vendors tugging at passersby, merchants sitting by their stalls and chatting about worldly matters, self-proclaimed scholars loudly discussing martial world rumors...
These people didn’t need to pretend to be carefree, like Ma Gwang-ik did. They didn’t suffer from deep internal injuries, as Jeong Yeon-shin did now.
But they had their own struggles. Living as a weakling in a world dominated by martial arts was no easy feat.
And with a looming drought creeping ever closer, how much worse would their lives become?
Would they, too, end up preying on those weaker than themselves? Just like the martial artists who had recently started raiding food supplies?
—Tok.
Jeong Yeon-shin tapped his index finger against the table.
A thought crossed his mind—Jang Sun-il, the herb gatherer.
A boy who had helped him rescue his niece, Jeong Hye, and in return, had taken the Chronicles of the Annihilated Devil Sect. He had sworn to take revenge on the demonic outlaws who had slaughtered his family.
Had he survived? Or had he died along the way, crushed by the merciless world?
"Sir, what would you like to order...?"
A young boy, likely a tavern server, approached cautiously. His eyes flickered toward the Northern Bright Sword strapped to Jeong Yeon-shin’s waist.
There was no fear in his gaze—only curiosity.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips curled into a faint smile. His presence had weakened so much that he no longer inspired caution.
He took a small pouch of salt from his robe and handed it over. The boy’s face immediately lit up.
"One bowl of noodles and a few dumplings."
"Ah... We’re out of that. It’s too popular—everyone orders it."
"Do you have sliced chicken stir-fry?"
"We don’t have pork, so no pork dishes."
"Kung Pao Chicken, then."
"Oh! We do have chicken! The chef makes it really well! Would you like some wine too?"
"Bamboo l— No, just the food."
"Understood!"
The boy cheerfully replied and hurried off.
Even tavern servers were considered privileged now.
Taverns that still served cooked food had become as rare as old drinking halls from a few years ago.
With food supplies growing scarce, establishments had started hiring armed guards to prevent raids. This tavern was no exception.
To even afford food and lodging, one needed more than just a handful of coins—salt or silver was the preferred currency now.
Even bowing to the armed guards at the entrance required a certain status. Ordinary people couldn’t even dream of walking in unchallenged.
"Ah, Grand Master, you’ve arrived. And you as well, Sir."
"Yes, good work."
A woman’s voice rang out from the first floor. Her footsteps hit the ground with weight, their echo unusually loud.
Not one, but two people walked with that same unshakable confidence.
The presence of martial power radiated from both of them, each carrying a distinct yet overwhelming aura.
They strode through the bustling street as if it were their own courtyard.
"Hey, kid. This is the right place?"
"Huh?"
"They said a stunning beauty came in here."
"Oh... A noble-looking gentleman did arrive."
"Alright, move aside."
Heavy footsteps thudded against the stairs, the sound reverberating all the way up to the second floor.
It wasn’t careless—no, it was the stride of a triumphant general.
The other guests near Jeong Yeon-shin flinched, ducking their heads toward their food. It was as if some monstrous creature from the Shan Hai Jing were climbing up the stairs.
—Thud.
A small but calloused hand grasped the edge of the second-floor railing. Even at a glance, it was clear that its owner had undergone rigorous training.
Black, dust-covered hair followed, tangled with bits of stone and dirt.
"Let’s see here."
No one voiced a single complaint.
Even though the second floor was filled with wealthy nobles, no one dared to object.
They simply focused on their meals, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the woman who grinned at Jeong Yeon-shin.
"Ah, so it’s you. Well, well."
She strode forward with long steps, the hem of her yellow robe swaying with each movement.
Strapped to her back was an enormous saber. Her eyes, naturally gentle in shape, didn’t match the smirk tugging at her lips.
She stared at Jeong Yeon-shin, walking closer before quirking her lips into a crooked grin.
"Huh?"
She shook her head at herself, a sight that was somewhat ridiculous.
"A man. Of course, it’s a man. I came all this way after listening to rumors, only to be disappointed. What a letdown."
"Very few rumors from the marketplace are worth believing. Besides... what woman would ever take a Grand Master seriously? You’d be better off using this time to wash up. You reek of wild boar."
The remark came from a scholarly-looking man who had stepped up beside her.
He was a strikingly handsome man with sharp features, holding a folding fan. His pristine white robes and the elegant spread of the crane design on his sleeves suited him perfectly.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes, which had remained indifferent even when looking at the so-called Grand Master, narrowed slightly. His gaze flickered toward the fan.
Meanwhile, the woman and the man continued their conversation.
"I came all the way from Henan to Taewon. I’ve been in self-imposed training. If I want to cut down my dear brother, I can’t waste a single moment."
"And yet you still find time to flirt with every lady you come across? No wonder the Lotus Lord exiled you, calling you a disgrace to the sect. Even went as far as disowning you."
At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin subtly examined the flow of their inner energy.
It was so loosely concealed that even the leftover scraps of the Zhuge Clan Leader’s Twin Divine Art were better composed. They clearly intended for their conversation to remain secret, but it was laughably easy to overhear.
"What’s wrong with a woman liking women? It’s the fate that was given to me, after all."
"I’m saying pick just one—whether it’s the blade or the bedroom."
"You know me. My ambitions won’t allow that. I’ll take it all. But first, I need to drag my bastard brother down."
"And between the two of you, which one is the real bastard...?"
"At least I’m not insane enough to throw myself at the Sword Lord. No matter how reckless I am."
"...Well, I suppose you have a point."
Hmph.
The woman scoffed before stepping past the weak boundary of energy concealing their voices. Without hesitation, she plopped herself down directly across from Jeong Yeon-shin.
Her massive saber, still strapped to her back, jutted upward slightly as she sat, but she didn’t seem to care.
"Gun Yu-rin."
"Are you insane?"
Jeong Yeon-shin blurted it out without thinking and immediately regretted it.
He didn’t let it show, but his niece, Jeong Hye’s scolding words suddenly echoed in his mind.
He had been dealing with so many rough martial artists lately that his words had become sharper without him realizing it. He needed to control himself. He didn’t want to corrupt his niece’s ears when they met again.
‘It feels like my words are drifting away from my mental discipline. I need to be careful.’
Puh-hah!
Gun Yu-rin, who had briefly looked stunned, suddenly burst into laughter.
"Right? That’s exactly how I must look! Since I was so rude on our first meeting, how about I buy you a drink? I’d like to admire such a rare face for a little longer. Regardless of your gender, you're a rare sight indeed."
"I’m abstaining from alcohol."
"Not that you can’t drink, but that you won’t? You do look a bit young, I suppose."
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lower eyelid twitched.
"This conversation is getting annoying. Leave."
And that was when it happened.
Hwaaak—!
"Judging by the sword you wear, you must be the scion of a prestigious martial family. But surely you’ve heard the saying—one who roams the martial world without knowing how to judge people will surely die."
A folding fan pointed directly at the space between Jeong Yeon-shin’s brows.
The scholarly man beside Gun Yu-rin was now glaring at him.
"Not recognizing the young lady is one thing, but I’ve never heard of someone like you being in Taewon. For your age, you have remarkably refined energy... Now I’m curious about your identity."
Silence filled the tavern.
Even though this was happening in the corner of the second floor, the entire establishment had focused on them.
Somewhere nearby, the young tavern server from earlier stood anxiously, looking at Jeong Yeon-shin with clear worry.
Considering the times, eating a full meal was enough to make someone arrogant, but the boy’s heart was clearly worn on his sleeve.
Some martial artists gained great enlightenment from seemingly trivial moments.
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled something.
‘The ultimate secret of Sword Control is the unity of sword and spirit (剑神同体).’
The sword and the mind.
It was an ultimate form of transcendence.
Just as true masters could merge their essence, energy, and spirit into one, so too could one merge their mind with the blade.
When Jeong Yeon-shin had first heard this from the Phantom Ghost Blade Baek Seo-goon, he hadn’t understood it at all.
It was a technique that relied on something beyond simple energy sensing.
But now... now he understood.
Divine Dragon Transformation Art.
What would happen if he projected the cooperative sensation of his upper dantian into a weapon?
Uuuuung.
Suddenly, the chopsticks in Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand began to vibrate.
At the same time, Gun Yu-rin’s eyes widened.