When Jeong Yeon-shin saw Chang Ryeong-hwaju Namgung Mi from afar, he told Namgung Hwa-shin that ten seconds would suffice.
Even if his opponent were Namgung So-ga-ju, he estimated the gap in skill between himself and Namgung Mi. He had already met her once.
His plan had been to undermine her spirit early on.
However, the situation had shifted.
While Jeong Yeon-shin had intended to proceed with the duel as originally planned, Namgung Mi had turned the situation to her advantage by implicating even the servants of the Gate of the Wise Master as rogue martial artists, thereby earning fame.
She had seized the opportunity to solidify her reputation and win the favor of the people of Wuchang.
A straightforward life-and-death duel between Ipwang Fortress and the Namgung Clan had now become politically delicate.
For Ipwang Fortress warriors, maintaining public support was an absolute necessity.
Hence, Jeong Yeon-shin retrieved the Pureblood Robe and brought up the idea of using a mask. He looked steadily at Namgung Hwa-shin.
“Mercy... in one’s actions...”
Namgung Hwa-shin trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.
After a pause, he raised his head, the distant sunlight casting a radiant glow on his refined features.
His expression, fitting for the moniker White Qilin, was resolute, his gaze steady with concern for his companion.
“Namgung Mi is a direct descendant, a prodigy among her generation. Judging by her qi, she must have recently consumed a rare elixir. It’s not an exaggeration to say she’s the foremost talent among the younger generation. Her mastery of the yin-based cold qi, including Frigid Ice Qi, makes her internal energy particularly formidable.”
Namgung Hwa-shin’s tone was grim, reflecting the gravity of the challenge ahead.
“Her qi can freeze her own energy meridians. It rapidly slows the flow of energy along vital qi pathways, reducing internal energy circulation and drastically weakening physical strength. The longer the fight drags on, the more sluggish her opponents become. Qi with such specialized yin-yang properties is truly fearsome.”
His words carried the weight of not just her martial level but also the natural advantage of her techniques against most opponents.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded.
“Creating internal energy through such elixirs... It seems plausible that the Namgung Clan would go to such lengths to counterbalance Ipwang Fortress.”
“It’s highly likely Namgung Mi also received a corresponding cultivation method to complement the elixir. Or perhaps they enlisted the help of a reliable grandmaster. A family of their influence could certainly manage it.”
Namgung Hwa-shin’s voice was tinged with bitterness as he acknowledged the resources and power the Namgung Clan could muster to nurture their direct descendants.
“Skipping the years of internal energy accumulation with elixirs...” Jeong Yeon-shin murmured.
The concept of accumulating energy—gradually cultivating and storing qi through practices like controlled breathing and meditation—was deeply rooted in the martial arts world.
Many warriors considered even sixty years of cultivation the bare minimum.
Achieving breakthroughs in qi cultivation often meant finding the ideal mental framework to enhance energy absorption.
“One always yearns for faster accumulation,” Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
Even with a premium-grade energy pill, one could only make incremental progress.
Namgung Hwa-shin, for instance, had deeper internal energy reserves than him, a gap rooted in innate limitations.
This was why Jeong Yeon-shin had been striving to create a faster cultivation method.
“It’s not just about skipping accumulation—it grants even greater power,” Namgung Hwa-shin said, his face turning slightly bitter as he looked away.
“This is the strength of a clan dedicated solely to its direct lineage. It’s different from Ipwang Fortress. The supreme elixirs that pass through the main family ultimately go to the imperial clan. Though this process is highly secretive.”
“The energy pill I received wasn’t small,” Jeong Yeon-shin said.
“Namgung Mi’s would be far superior. That’s to be expected.”
Perhaps it was the thought of facing his half-sister that caused Namgung Hwa-shin’s lips to tremble slightly once more.
“Chang Ryeong-hwaju and Cheong Qilin are no different from the Heavenly Trees nurtured by the mountain that is the Namgung Clan. I don’t mean to belittle you, Jeong So-hyeop. Even if your martial level is equal, there are techniques they wield that are difficult to counter. I, for one, am uncertain if I can overcome the demons of my past in time for this mission.”
Namgung Hwa-shin clenched his trembling hands, attempting to steady them. His strained smile betrayed his inner turmoil.
“This mission holds meaning on many levels,” Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
Ipwang Fortress had initiated the mission to consolidate its influence over the martial world. Jeong Yeon-shin, whose life was constantly at risk, had joined to build his record of achievements. Namgung Hwa-shin had come to bury the burdens of his past and seek revenge for his mother.
“He likely intended to defeat me in the competition to challenge So-ga-ju himself. Does he have grievances with Cheong Qilin as well?”
Jeong Yeon-shin silently observed Namgung Hwa-shin for a moment.
After a pause, he spoke softly.
“I may not be able to lift Namgung So-hyeop’s spirits.”
“Hah, I wouldn’t expect that from you, Jeong So-hyeop,” Namgung Hwa-shin replied with a faint laugh.
Jeong Yeon-shin continued.
“But I might be able to bring Namgung Mi down from her pedestal.”
***
A pale-skinned woman slowly took a bite of a peach.
The taesa-style chair she was seated in, lavishly adorned with leopard-patterned embellishments, exuded an air of aristocracy. Her languidly outstretched arm resting on the armrest made her look regal, almost like a monarch.
With deliberate grace, she moved her small lips and spoke.
"Do it."
Namgung Mi’s command was given. To some, it was a death sentence.
The remaining attendants of the Gate of the Wise Master trembled uncontrollably, paralyzed by fear.
The servants had already been rendered crippled. Next, it was the attendants’ turn.
The warriors of Chang Ryeong-hwa under the Namgung Clan approached. Their bare hands shimmered faintly with flowing qi.
Their gazes, cold and detached, showed no regard for the attendants as equals.
"Spare us, please!"
"I was forced into this!"
The laws of the Ming Dynasty did not permit private acts of torture.
In the Great Ming, commoners were considered property of the emperor. No one was allowed to defy this principle.
But the Central Plains were vast, and it was impossible for the imperial court to scrutinize every corner of its territory.
Here and now, Namgung Mi’s command held precedence over the laws of the Ming Dynasty. Especially in proximity to the Namgung Clan, her words were absolute.
"You won’t die," she said, her voice laced with a delicate smile, one imbued with grace and elegance.
"Your energy cores will simply be destroyed. You’ve practiced the vile martial arts of this sect, served as lapdogs for the Gate of the Wise Master. Who’s to say you won’t wreak havoc among the innocent commoners after the sect’s fall?"
"I’ve never practiced martial arts—!"
A terrified protest was cut short by a scream.
As soon as the warriors of Chang Ryeong-hwa moved their hands, cries of agony erupted from every direction.
The pain of having one’s dantian destroyed was excruciating. The process involved ripping apart the Qi Sea Point in the lower abdomen through an intense internal technique.
The sensation was akin to having blood vessels torn apart entirely. It was a wound that could never truly heal.
Over a dozen attendants writhed on the ground, coughing up blood. Trails of red smeared across the central hall’s floor.
Some workers of the sect were lucky enough to be chosen as Namgung Mi’s new servants.
They stood to one side, their faces rigid with fear, not daring to make a sound or even breathe properly.
"Clean this up and gather the people. I’ll host a feast using the spoils of this pathetic sect."
Namgung Mi’s words were carried out without delay.
The setting sun bathed the scene in warm hues of orange, casting long shadows over the gathering crowd.
The attendants, now under the watchful eyes of a single Chang Ryeong-hwa warrior, dared not make any reckless moves. The martial training ground of the Gate of the Wise Master was quickly transformed into a banquet hall for the people of Wuchang.
The news of the Namgung Clan’s annihilation of the Gate of the Wise Master spread like wildfire.
Local figures, from merchants and guild leaders to martial artists and scholars, gathered uninvited to witness the event.
"Finally, justice!"
"Those bastards got what they deserved!"
"The Snow Mountain Fairy herself descended with the might of Namgung! Look at that porcelain-like skin—she’s no ordinary person."
"And her unrivaled martial prowess—truly a blessing."
A massive table, dragged out from within the sect, was surrounded by dozens of people who ate and drank with abandon.
Among them were guild leaders, merchants, and martial artists based in Wuchang. Even the head scholar of the local academy stroked his beard approvingly.
"Does this mean the Namgung Clan will establish a branch here?"
A bald middle-aged man, the head of a mid-tier escort agency, asked cautiously, his demeanor akin to addressing a superior.
Namgung Mi nodded slowly.
"You’ve witnessed the atrocities of the Gate of the Wise Master. In our modest capacity, we aim to bring order to the martial world in Wuchang..."
Her lips curled into a soft smile.
"But I wonder if we might impose upon you in any way."
"Not at all!"
"It’s an honor, truly!"
The crowd waved their hands dismissively, voices raised in eager agreement.
It was an edict from the treasured scion of the Namgung Clan. Even those who might secretly oppose her knew better than to voice dissent.
Namgung Mi’s smile deepened.
A young martial artist raised his hand shyly.
"Lady Namgung! I heard you’re to duel a warrior from Ipwang Fortress!"
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"Oh my, are you concerned for me?"
She smiled brightly at him, eliciting a blush. The reaction never got old.
Namgung Mi’s experience in the martial world had always been like this.
Though imperial princes and princesses of noble blood were revered, she, raised as a scion of a prestigious martial clan, saw no reason to envy them.
Her demeanor was poised, her disposition content. She believed she had the refinement to safeguard what was hers.
Tilting her head slightly, her glossy hair shifted gracefully—a deliberately calculated motion.
"Why did Ipwang Fortress allow the Gate of the Wise Master to remain? So many commoners suffered under them..."
The gathered audience immediately caught her implication. It was clear what she wanted them to say.
"They’re too focused on suppressing the martial world to care about us!"
"Exactly! They must have benefited from leaving those scoundrels unchecked!"
"The Ipwang warriors are oppressors! Look at what they did to the Hwangbo Clan!"
The condemnations grew louder, their fervor seemingly genuine.
Namgung Mi quietly observed them. The martial world was no different from the commoners—they pandered to power.
Certainly, some among them held differing opinions, but it didn’t matter.
Her martial world was one where no one questioned their existence, where life spread out like a finely woven carpet.
This was why she aimed to protect it.
Even her elders had turned a blind eye to the rising star of Ipwang Fortress who had recently appeared with extraordinary abilities.
Had he been a prodigy of one of the orthodox factions, the situation might have been different.
The Namgung Clan viewed Ipwang Fortress as an anomaly—recklessly meddling in martial affairs under the guise of protecting the people.
"This time, I’ll cut off their growth at the root."
She had already won the battle of public opinion, swiftly securing the favor of Wuchang’s people.
Even if she were to lose the duel, Ipwang Fortress would bear the brunt of public resentment.
As she reached for another peach with a serene smile, a voice cut through the lively chatter.
"Who."
All motion ceased.
The voice was not something to be brushed aside. It carried an overwhelming force, an unsettling blend of youthful sharpness and the shattering resonance of qi.
"Dares to speak of my cult."
The sound of flapping robes accompanied the figure that emerged, moving effortlessly along the wall with impeccable footwork.
Thud.
A faint step landed on the ground. Not a speck of dust stirred.
Namgung Mi’s eyes widened, instantly activating her Sky-Cleaving Eye Technique, the Namgung Clan’s secret art. Her gaze, radiating a celestial blue light, scanned the intruder.
Even the faintest tremor in their movements would not escape her notice.
The uninvited guest had donned the mask of a demon, its gaping mouth twisted in a mocking grin.
Draped in a crimson Pureblood Robe, their qi swirled like a tempest. Their very presence was suffocating.
"Blood... Flame Cult?"
The muttered words of someone nearby reached Namgung Mi’s ears, but she didn’t look away.
The sinister aura emanating from the figure was palpable, brushing against her skin like ripples of carefully controlled energy.
"You."
The crimson-draped demon spoke.
"Are you the wretch from Namgung?"
For a moment, no one dared to breathe.
It was an entrance that left the entire gathering stunned.