“Seomye... I envy the other side. What an earth-shattering match it will be. The opponent of the Namgung Clan Head is truly unexpected.”
“It’s inevitable, isn’t it? The Fortress Lord did leave the Fortress recently.”
“Facing one of the Eight Great Clans' heads requires someone of equivalent stature. Apart from the Captain of the Divine Sword Corps, who else could it be?”
Jeong Yeon-shin listened silently to the conversation of the seniors surrounding him.
There was only one person in the world who could rightfully be addressed as the Captain—the Divine Sword Corps Captain of Ipwang Fortress. Together with Ma Gwang-ik, Shunchun Wing, and the Destruction Squads, they comprised a force of seventeen elite martial masters.
The title of Captain belonged to the one who stood just below the Fortress Lord, unmatched in prestige and martial prowess.
‘I haven’t even seen them yet,’ thought Jeong Yeon-shin.
Even after joining Ipwang Fortress, he had never laid eyes on the Divine Sword Corps Captain.
The Captain was known to roam the martial world, leaving a trail of legend wherever they went. People whispered stories of their overwhelming power, always ensuring that Ipwang Fortress fulfilled its original role.
“Isn’t the Captain on a mission?”
“Even the direct Divine Sword Squad has been absent for quite some time. There are rumors they went to deal with the Yeoryeong.”
“Then perhaps they’ll head straight for the Namgung Clan without returning...”
Above Jeong Yeon-shin’s head, the seniors’ conversation flowed seamlessly.
“Did you mention the Yeoryeong?” he asked suddenly.
“It’s counted among the Thirteen Heavens of the Martial Underworld. They’re a faction that values wealth and intelligence over martial power, but they’re insidiously troublesome.”
The one who responded was a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, gently patting his head. She was Oh Wollyang, a blue-robed swordmaster who treated Jeong Yeon-shin like a son.
Other seniors chimed in:
“Their strength lies not in brute force but in schemes. The Yeoryeong are masters of manipulation, orchestrating plots behind the scenes. Compared to them, even the blade-crazed Blade Specters are preferable.”
“They’re rumored to have the Intelligence Guild in their grasp. Some say they’re the most interconnected with the other Thirteen Heavens. Seomye, you might have tangled with them already without even knowing it.”
Yeoryeong—one of the infamous Thirteen Heavens of the Martial Underworld.
‘The Thirteen Heavens...’
The Thirteen Heavens were thirteen factions of the demonic underworld, whose influence rivaled the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans. In a world as vast as the martial realm, their malevolence stood out sharply.
The Divine Sword Corps Captain likely spent much of their time trying to suppress these factions.
While some members of the Eight Great Clans concealed their hypocrisy behind worldly elegance, the Thirteen Heavens were brazenly evil from the start.
‘I’ve clashed with the Blood Flame Cult and the Blade Specters. And there was the Simwulyeon, too.’
The Blood Flame Cult and the Blade Specters were self-explanatory. He had even severed the head of Simwulyeon’s rising star Geom Yehwa.
Her background and her betrothal to a member of the Ma Clan came to mind—Ma Jin’s warning echoed faintly in his memory.
This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.
It had been right after he killed Hwangbo Jun of the Blade Specters, who had pursued him while he was fleeing from the Blood Flame Cult.
—"You... things are becoming tumultuous in the martial world. Battles between martial factions aren’t always fought on the battlefield. The conflict of information is just as fierce. The General Administration Office received a report—someone is inquiring about Seomye’s actions in Ipwang Fortress."
‘My enemies are multiplying.’
Each mission seemed to create new grievances. He had a feeling that this journey into the martial world would be no less turbulent.
It wasn’t paranoia. The sensation in his upper dantian told him it would not be unfounded.
“Departure is in four days. You should all focus on gathering your strength. It’s best for everyone to disperse now,” said Cheongmyeong.
He casually waved a hand, and a sharp, cold breeze swept through like a blade. The martial masters of Ma Gwang-ik dispersed in good spirits, chuckling as they left.
Many offered words of encouragement to Jeong Yeon-shin as they departed.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood, dusting off his pants.
“Senior.”
“Didn’t you gain quite a lot from your recent return? Before heading out again, you need to consolidate what you’ve acquired.”
Cheongmyeong’s blue eyes curved with a faint smile as he continued.
“For example, something like the spirit elixirs.”
***
“Uncle Jangmyeong, you look radiant today. Did you drink something especially invigorating?”
A young female swordswoman, barely in her twenties, greeted him cheerfully.
Her dark blue martial robes were deep in hue, accentuating her commanding presence. Striding confidently toward the grand front gate of the Namgung Clan, her lively steps kicked up a cloud of dust beneath her.
Trailing behind her were attendants and martial guards, forming a backdrop to her effortless grace.
“Miss,” one of the gate guards greeted her, his face a mixture of awe and admiration.
Bowing his head to her, he raised his fists in a formal salute and said, “It seems the one who has truly changed is none other than the Chang Ryeong-hwaju. Congratulations on your great achievement.”
“Congratulations on your great achievement!” echoed the other five guards, their salutes synchronized to perfection. The gesture was as precise as the shockwave of an expertly executed martial technique.
Guarding the front gate of a prominent martial clan was no task for ordinary fighters.
Especially for a family like the Namgung Clan, whose enduring power and legacy earned them the honor of being one of the Eight Great Clans. The gate guards were the face of the clan, a symbol of their prestige.
Their imposing stature and disciplined demeanor naturally drew the attention of passersby on the wide road beyond the gate. The onlookers whispered quietly among themselves:
“They’re saluting her like that?”
“Fool, can’t you see she’s escorted by Namgung guards? She must be one of their most treasured heirs.”
“The Chang Ryeong-hwaju of the Namgung Clan? But isn’t she supposed to have darker skin from all that training? This one is fair as snow.”
“How can you run a trading caravan with such outdated news? Don’t you know she consumed the legendary Inhyeong Seolsam (Snow Ginseng of Human Form)? They say its miraculous cold energy even transformed her skin. Truly fortunate! We’ve just witnessed one of the legends of the martial world.”
“What? Inhyeong Seolsam?”
Every word of their hushed conversation reached Namgung Mi, the Chang Ryeong-hwaju of the Namgung Clan. She paid them no mind, her expression unbothered.
After all, their words weren’t entirely incorrect. She had indeed consumed the legendary Inhyeong Seolsam.
Her older brother, the Soga-ju, and her father, the Family Head, were already masters with their lower dantian brimming with internal energy. Her own cultivation had been enhanced to match theirs.
“Well, I just fought off some blood fiends. Have a good day, everyone,” she said lightly, flashing a smile as she passed the gate guards.
Even as she walked away, she could feel the faint stirrings of excitement from those she left behind.
The martial guards of the clan were competent, loyal to their role as subordinates, and devoted to their duties. Their admiration was something she had grown accustomed to—like an imperial princess basking in the reverence of her subjects.
A simple smile or casual greeting was more than enough to reward them. The privileges she had enjoyed since birth felt even sweeter today.
“I’m heading to see my brother. Rest well and recover from your journey,” she told her followers, granting them permission to withdraw. In response to their formal bows, she waved a hand with a graceful nonchalance.
Whoosh!
With a few steps of lightness skill, she cut through the air, startling those walking in the inner courtyard of the clan. They quickly straightened themselves and offered polite greetings.
Only direct descendants were allowed to move through the Namgung Clan’s inner courtyard using lightness techniques. The distinct features of the clan’s martial style—pale skin and striking robes—made it easy for others to identify her as one of their heirs.
Namgung Mi moved directly toward the Changgung Pavilion, the place where the Soga-ju trained under the Family Head.
“Congratulations on your great achievement,” greeted the guards stationed outside the pavilion.
These were not mere gate guards. They were the Changgung Pavilion Guards, their discipline and bearing rivaling those of royal bodyguards. Unlike the gate guards, these men were unwavering pillars of loyalty, unshaken by external rumors.
Even if whispers of rebellion or imperial betrayal swept through the martial world, these guards would remain steadfast.
‘Even if the imperial hounds dare bark about threatening our family...’ Namgung Mi thought.
“The Soga-ju has instructed us to inform you that you may enter immediately,” one of the guards said, stepping aside to let her pass.
She nodded slightly and pushed the door open. The massive door, engraved with intricate sword patterns, slid smoothly to reveal the Soga-ju’s office.
The room was vast enough to serve as a training hall. A long table of precious sandalwood, polished to a deep crimson glow, stretched across the center.
“It seems you’ve achieved a minor breakthrough,” said Namgung Se-jin, the Blue Qilin of the Namgung Clan, seated at the table.
His calm eyes, sharp nose, and refined features exuded an elegance that could only be described as radiant.
Namgung Mi paid little attention to his remark and pulled a chair to sit across from him. Crossing her legs, she replied with a teasing smirk, “Everyone else is calling it a great achievement.”
“When the Blood Flame Cult ambushed our clan, we had to divert our strength to retrieve the Inhyeong Seolsam. Your internal energy has grown, but compared to the sacrifices made, it’s hardly remarkable.”
Her brother’s response was as indifferent as ever.
As the Blue Qilin, one of the two legendary Qilins of the Namgung Clan, he had earned the title before Namgung Hwa-shin, who would later become the White Qilin. His unmatched power and upright character made him a figure of awe—even arrogance.
“Oh? How about this?” Namgung Mi replied.
Swoosh.
As her silken hair swayed gently, her already pale skin became even whiter. The surge of internal energy caused the documents on the table to tremble.
A mystical white aura flowed over her body, its frosty brilliance reminiscent of a goddess of winter. The potency of her cultivation, enhanced by the Inhyeong Seolsam, was undeniable.
With a playful tone, she continued, “I hear the imperial dogs have dared to declare war on our family. And a deathmatch, no less? It’s absurdly arrogant. Do you think the Divine Sword Corps Captain can defeat our father, who has perfected the Emperor’s Sword Form?”
The imperial military could not openly support Ipwang Fortress.
In the martial world, where face and reputation were paramount, a failed mission would bring irreparable damage to the imperial court’s prestige. Thus, the imperial court and Ipwang Fortress never acknowledged their connection publicly.
This was why so many warriors from Ipwang Fortress perished in the vast martial world.
This time, however, it was a direct challenge—a clash between two forces.
The Imperial Sword Sect and the Namgung Clan, the undisputed strongest among the righteous factions.
No all-out battle involving the Hwangbo Clan or the Blade Specters had taken place. The upcoming event was limited to ten official duels—a test of skill and reputation.
The Namgung Clan, with its unwavering confidence, had no reason to fear defeat.
Namgung Se-jin spoke evenly. “Don’t presume to guess the actions of supreme masters. As you know, you’ve been named as well. The duel roster has already spread across the martial world. No one can refuse now. All eyes will be on us.”
“And if they lose? I mean Ipwang Fortress.”
“No warrior fights expecting defeat. Neither do we. This is no ordinary event. The victor’s name will resonate throughout the martial world.”
Namgung Mi smiled slyly. “I guess my beauty and title will become even more famous. Maybe I’ll surpass Wei Ji Myo-hwa of the Zhongnan Sect and claim the title of Sword Dragon myself. And speaking of titles...”
She leaned back, her smile widening. “I hear our dear Hwa-shin is returning.”
Namgung Se-jin’s expression hardened. “He’s still your brother.”
“A bastard child, nonetheless. Isn’t it strange for you to say that, brother? But more importantly...”
Her smile grew colder.
“One of the names on the list is interesting. The one who used those weak sound techniques. What was his name again? Ah, Seomye. I saw him briefly before.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate his martial arts. It’s not a trivial skill. His techniques are of the highest caliber. Can’t you imagine the threat he poses in group combat?”
Namgung Mi chuckled lightly, brushing off his concerns.
“I want to test him. Let’s pay them a visit—Seomye and the White Qilin.”
“What?”
“The imperial dogs have already announced their challenge to the world. They can’t kill us before the duel begins. And brother, aren’t you dissatisfied with this Seomye incident? Don’t you want to see if he’s worth killing? Perhaps even meet our soon-to-be-departed brother.”
“You intend to kill Hwa-shin?”
“He’s not Hwa-shin anymore. He’s grown up, hasn’t he?”
“...”
“They must have already departed. Let’s meet them and suggest a sequential duel. In a five-on-five match, the youngest always fights first. I’ll kill Seomye, and then we’ll finish with Hwa-shin. If you’re worried about your hypocritical reputation, you won’t even have to touch the bastard’s blood.”
“Are you serious?”
Namgung Mi grinned, her pale skin glowing like snow, her crimson lips as striking as a ruby.
“Do you think your little sister will lose?”
Namgung Se-jin shook his head, his voice calm. “That’s not what I meant. You won’t lose.”
He studied her closely, his gaze settling into a resigned calm.
“I can already imagine how your icy inner energy will freeze your opponent’s meridians. Unless they possess overwhelming power, there’s no way to counter it. If they’re equal in strength, your victory is assured. Unless, of course, they’ve spent their entire lives mastering internal flame techniques.”
“Internal flames?”
“The monks of the Shaolin Sect who’ve mastered the Marrow Cleansing Sutra can kindle the fire of Samadhi True Flame within their bodies. But that’s not something you need to concern yourself with right now.”
“Hmm.”
She wrinkled her brow briefly in annoyance before flashing another bright smile.
“So, shall we go pay them a visit?”
***
On the day the delegation to duel the Namgung Clan was set to depart, Jeong Yeon-shin consumed the Spirit Elixir he had received from the medicinal hall.
It was a reward for the missions he had undertaken as a Blue Rank martial artist. The elixir was classified as a top-tier pill even within Ipwang Fortress.
At the center of Ma Gwang-ik’s Grand Martial Training Ground, Jeong Yeon-shin sat cross-legged.
Whoosh!
The hem of his blue long robe fluttered relentlessly, driven by the force radiating from his body.
This was nothing like the standard Spirit Elixirs he had consumed during his early days of training.
The qi waves spreading through his body gradually grew denser. Faint, golden currents of light occasionally flickered around him, visible to the naked eye.
This was tangible qi—a phenomenon rarely seen. The ephemeral golden aura would flare up before dissipating.
Around him, voices transmitted quietly in hushed tones.
Encircling him in a protective formation were the senior martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik. Even Hyeon Won-chang was present.
—“Master, what is that radiance?”
Hyeon Won-chang transmitted his voice to Ma Jin, the leader of Ma Gwang-ik, who had been watching his nephew silently. Ma Jin finally parted his lips to respond.
—“I heard he has begun to lay the foundation for creating a new inner cultivation technique. The sudden surge of qi is fueling the spark of insight. It’s rare, but not impossible. For now, it’s just the energy of the elixir, but... perhaps a supreme technique will be born before the year ends.”
—“Heavens...”
—“You gasp in amazement? Maintain your dignity, Hyeon Won-chang.”
Hyeon Won-chang ignored the rebuke. He couldn’t help himself.
After all, the benefactor who had once saved his life had now calmed the tumultuous qi waves radiating from his body.
“Jeong So-hyeop!”
Whoo—
Jeong Yeon-shin took in a long, steady breath.
“Hyeon Won-so-hyeop?”
He spoke without opening his eyes, his voice calm. It seemed he had already sensed Hyeon Won-chang’s presence as the latter approached cautiously.
Hyeon Won-chang asked curiously, “Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“I must know—how much stronger have you become?”
At that, Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his eyes.
The moment his eyelids lifted, a surge of energy manifested as an intense blue light that gleamed within his gaze.
The pale blue of his eyes had deepened into a sharp, sapphire brilliance—a striking glow that seemed to pierce through the air itself.
“I’m not sure,” the young martial artist answered softly.
The words were simple, yet they carried the weight of something profound.