“...”
Clad in the Pureblood Robe and wearing the mask of a specter, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward slowly.
At this moment, he had to present himself as one of the late-stage elites of the Bloodflame Cult. He had learned this from the Seventh Apostle.
The Pureblood Robe was a treasure bestowed upon the Apostles.
‘My martial skills haven’t yet reached the level of an Apostle. I’ll have to act like Go Jong-hak.’
Even within the Bloodflame Cult, there was a hierarchy akin to nobility. Families with longstanding ties to the main branch naturally formed a ruling class.
The son of the Third Apostle, Go Jong-hak, was one such individual. He had persistently tried to undermine Jeong Yeon-shin within the main branch.
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled snapping his neck when Go Jong-hak had forced him to endure the cultivation of Vital Qi Extraction, a method meant to draw energy from others, even from a child untrained in martial arts.
Deciding to adopt the guise of Go Jong-hak, Jeong Yeon-shin moved.
Step.
His steps were deliberate, his posture upright.
He carried himself as if ruling over the world. He reinforced this behavior with self-hypnosis:
There was no one outside the main branch more noble than himself. Everyone else was insignificant insects.
He strode directly toward Namgung Mi, who sat in the place of honor. Without showing any outward signs, he calculated the range between them.
“Hm...”
“This isn’t an ordinary individual...”
The so-called righteous guests couldn’t move. Even though they must have realized this was the Bloodflame Cult, they were paralyzed.
The aura radiating from Jeong Yeon-shin overwhelmed them. His energy was unmatched by most in the regional martial world. He was utilizing Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique at the Blue Rank level of Ipwang Fortress.
Eyes lowered in submission. These were people who had long been hiding in obscurity under the Gate of the Wise Master, a sect aligned with the evil path.
Unlike their earlier defiance at Namgung Mi’s words, no one dared to challenge Jeong Yeon-shin’s aura.
The Namgung Clan, however, was different.
“A blood specter dares to appear here?”
“Could this be a relative of one of the Apostles?”
Namgung warriors rose instantly, drawing their swords. Namgung Mi, however, smiled faintly and raised a delicate hand to halt them.
Her pale, jade-like fingers gleamed, as smooth and white as they were elegant.
“The color of this peach flesh is to my liking,” Jeong Yeon-shin remarked, still channeling Vital Qi into the Yeomcheon Point at his neck.
His voice emerged as a deep, eerie resonance, amplified by an intentional rupture in his tone.
Taking unhurried steps, he reached Namgung Mi’s left diagonal.
Swipe.
He picked up a peach. Rather than engaging in combat immediately, he wanted to distance himself from his disguised identity as a member of the Bloodflame Cult.
Even if his aura was distinct, his physique couldn’t change. He needed to ensure they wouldn’t associate him with the Seomye of Ipwang Fortress.
‘My actions must be completely unlike my usual self.’
For the first time in his life, Jeong Yeon-shin deliberately sought to provoke someone. He wasn’t confident he could pull it off. Could he manage?
“This fruit is wasted on the likes of you.”
His tone was detached, deliberately arrogant. It felt surprisingly natural.
No one outside the Namgung masters dared to lift their heads. It seemed his performance was unexpectedly effective.
Draped in the Pureblood Robe and masked as a specter while utilizing Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique, how did he appear in their eyes?
Did they see him as a true noble of the Bloodflame Cult?
At that moment, Namgung Mi parted her lips.
“I was going to take that peach. Don’t you think it suits me?”
She slowly crossed her legs, her gaze meeting his with a fleeting smile.
Her words flowed smoothly.
“A blood specter posing as a noble in front of me. Do you feel inferior to the main branch? Know your place.”
“Your tongue is long.”
“What?”
“That head of yours talks too much. It will soon roll.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice emerged leisurely from behind his mask.
Then, he moved.
The peach in his hand flew toward Namgung Mi’s neck. The sound of astonished gasps echoed around them, but Jeong Yeon-shin paid no attention.
She didn’t dodge but rose to her feet. The peach rolled off and was gently crushed under her fine leather shoes.
“So, you’re here to drain my energy, as the rumors suggest?” she said with a smile.
“Kill him.”
Namgung Mi ended her sentence as she unleashed her full strength. She recalled the overwhelming aura of the specter before her.
This wasn’t an opponent to underestimate. She intended to gauge his abilities by using the warriors of the Chang Ryeong Sect as pawns.
‘Before that.’
She infused her internal energy into her body to slow him down.
The icy chill of Frost Bloom surged from her Danjeon, freezing even the blood in her veins as she endured the pain. As she raised her hand, frost began to form around her, glimmering in iridescent hues.
It was both a display of her noble dignity and a testament to its deadly power.
Crack!
In an instant, the white mist erupted from Namgung Mi’s body, and the specter froze in place.
The frigid internal energy was faster than any sword strike. Smirking faintly, Namgung Mi retreated as if floating.
From all directions, Chang Ryeong Sect warriors charged. Chaos erupted in an instant.
Dishes and wine scattered in all directions as the clamor of swords echoed loudly.
Clang!
Jeong Yeon-shin felt the vibration travel up his right hand, which gripped his sword.
One warrior’s attack was swift, but Jeong Yeon-shin deflected it with the flat of his sword before it could be fully drawn. His movements had indeed slowed.
What invaded his body wasn’t ordinary cold. It resembled the properties of Myagung Suppression Technique.
Even so, his physical strength remained unchanged.
“Your swordsmanship is pathetic.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice rang out calmly from behind his mask.
His defense remained firm. The moment the Namgung warrior hesitated, Jeong Yeon-shin struck with the back of his left hand.
Thud!
The sound was sharp and loud. The feeling of his hand connecting with the opponent’s jaw was clear. The warrior flew backward and collapsed with a groan.
“Hrk!”
It was a deathly groan. Eyes rolled back, the warrior fell unconscious as he was flung away.
Jeong Yeon-shin realized immediately after the strike. Even without using his unique techniques, he could manage.
He had grown significantly stronger. He had far surpassed the average Blue Rank.
Without pause, he advanced, clearing any stray swords that might come his way.
He was almost thankful for Namgung Mi’s decision to use underlings as cannon fodder.
‘I must fight like this.’
At the moment when he heightened the flow of Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique—
“Form the sword array!”
One of the Namgung warriors shouted in a frantic voice.
A sword array. A formation where multiple swordsmen coordinated their techniques for greater synergy.
Seeing Jeong Yeon-shin’s attack, they seemed to have resolved to fight as a group. Suddenly, the scene separated from the rest of the hall as if in another world.
It became a confrontation: five Chang Ryeong Sect warriors against the specter-masked Jeong Yeon-shin.
Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his eyes. The Namgung warriors, spread out in formation, brandished their swords in unison.
He immediately responded with the principles of Swift Sword Fundamentals. The iron sword provided by Namgung Hwa-shin matched their speed.
Gradually, a burning ache spread through his meridians. The cold’s invasion was relentless.
‘I’ve become so slow.’
It didn’t matter.
Moving sluggishly, he combined evasion with counterattacks. His sense for measuring range reached an instinctual level.
Despite the numb sensation overtaking his body, his awareness remained razor-sharp. He dodged the flurry of five swords by a hair’s breadth, inserting his own strikes.
Once, twice, five times—it was enough.
Jeong Yeon-shin pulled the iron sword from the abdomen of the final fallen warrior. Slowly, crimson blood dripped along the blade, adding a chilling stillness to the air.
The vibrant red of his Pureblood Robe seemed to radiate a noble killing intent.
The blood of the Chang Ryeong Sect warriors appeared as nothing more than filthy stains.
“...”
In the silence that followed, no one dared to breathe. Namgung Mi remained still, watching without intervention.
This was a battle among experts. Premature interference could disrupt her control.
She was the master of the Chang Ryeong Sect. It mattered little how she used her subordinates.
Observing the martial prowess of her enemy was sufficient.
Only then did Namgung Mi move.
“You don’t seem particularly skilled in defensive techniques.”
She spoke slowly as she approached.
“But your sense of range is impressive. Do you have a natural talent for gauging distances?”
Her tone was relaxed. She had noted the specter’s progressively slower movements.
The frosty energy of her Frost Bloom was powerful. It was the result of laboriously refining her energy to its peak.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood motionless, staring at her.
The sensation of frostbite swept through his body. Even one exposure to her technique had left a lasting impact.
As expected, without mastering Unique Martial Arts, he wouldn’t have dared to attempt victory.
‘I cannot use my unique techniques.’
This was not the time to unveil a new palm technique. The martial art was too distinct, its traits too revealing.
Such techniques could only be employed when it no longer mattered if his identity was exposed.
Crunch. Crunch.
Namgung Mi approached with a faint smile on her lips.
She didn’t seem like someone who would let her guard down, yet she closed the distance without hesitation.
Her confidence in her mastery of ice energy was immense, and justifiably so. Her martial art was formidable.
She had fully assessed her opponent’s internal energy. She could precisely gauge Jeong Yeon-shin’s condition as his body grew increasingly sluggish.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?”
She drew close, her demeanor almost intimate, as if she were approaching a lover. Her pale, snow-white hand reached out, lightly touching the specter mask that concealed Jeong Yeon-shin’s face.
“Starting with that ugly face.”
Her lips curled into a thin, cruel smile. Her movements seemed careless, utterly unguarded.
Her personality shone through—arrogant and contemptuous.
This was a deliberate act of humiliation, meant to degrade her opponent, a practitioner of martial arts.
‘Perfect.’
Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself. Prolonging a duel with intricate strategies was a luxury for formal sparring.
He had no intention of engaging her on equal footing. By baiting her into closing the gap, he’d drawn her in closer than he could have imagined.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s martial path was different from hers. His was a struggle for survival.
He wanted to defeat this opponent, unlike any he’d faced before, as efficiently as possible.
‘I can do it. The Great Flame Dragon was even stronger.’
He recalled the intense density of internal energy cultivated by the Young Master of the Hwangbo Clan through the innate heat of the Solar God Meridian. That encounter had inspired a technique.
He realized that many of the so-called masters of the martial world utilized this method.
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Threefold Purification Flame.
From the moment she took her first step, he had already begun to channel it. The method involved vibrating the smallest units of internal energy.
Every movement ignited fiery energy. Unlike the immediate outburst of heat from the Solar God Meridian, this technique demanded delicate precision.
It was a master-level application of internal energy.
Hummm.
An internal resonance echoed within his body.
He felt it distinctly. The frost that had settled into his meridians began to crackle and burn away.
His body, tempered into something as unyielding as steel through True Steel Core Technique, withstood the heat and vibration. Meanwhile, the destructive flow of Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique surged through his body, intensifying the resonance.
From the twelve standard meridians to the eight extraordinary meridians, every energy channel in his body buzzed as if on the verge of rupture.
This was sustainable. The gradual thawing of his body hadn’t been detected by his opponent.
Jeong Yeon-shin immediately activated the Demonic Radiance Perception.
In an instant, his Upper Dantian flared brilliantly, pulling in an overwhelming flood of information.
From Namgung Mi’s poised stance, her amused breath, to the focus of her gaze on his mask.
And within all this—
An invisible trajectory formed. A glimmering path only visible to him, the manifestation of his intent.
It was the Demonic Radiance Technique. He followed its guidance, moving from his right elbow, and finally, shifting his shoulder in a seamless motion.
Swish.
Just as Namgung Mi was about to remove his mask, Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand shot forward, gripping her neck.
It was a natural, fluid movement.
Her unwavering confidence, the angle of his technique, the precise collapse of the gap between them, and the sudden burst of speed from his thawing body—all came together to create a singular moment of domination.
Jeong Yeon-shin, the Specter of Ipwang Fortress, was a brawler through and through.
“...!”
Her smooth, pale neck was now firmly within his grasp. Namgung Mi’s eyes widened, filled with disbelief.
Had she ever been subdued so completely and absurdly in her life? She had neither seen nor heard of such an experience.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly.
“The noble of the Blood Cult commands you.”
“Urgh...!”
“Namgung’s wretched spawn.”
As his words resonated, his internal energy surged. It felt as though his body, honed through the True Steel Core Technique, had opened wide to unleash his intent.
The essence of his words merged with his mental imagery, forming a clear intent.
‘They said she inflicted humiliation. On Namgung So-hyeop’s mother.’
She had committed countless atrocities without restraint, so he had heard. Jeong Yeon-shin pondered.
Was he not more deserving of dignity than this person, Namgung Mi? It was a thought he had never entertained before.
A surge of arrogance bloomed in his mind.
And he spoke.
“Kneel.”
His voice echoed throughout the room, heard by all present. The moment his words carried the weight of his intent, a strange sensation followed.
The flow of Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique seemed to respond, amplifying slightly. The volume of his accumulated energy grew.
The torrent of energy coursing through him seemed to laugh mockingly, as if this was the proper way to wield it.
‘Another realization.’
Jeong Yeon-shin opened his mouth once more, his tone dripping with contempt.
“What are you waiting for, wretch?”
“I... I...”
Namgung Mi couldn’t finish her sentence. She showed no sign of moving.
The reason was simple—Jeong Yeon-shin had struck a pressure point on her neck when he grabbed it. She was paralyzed, her body entirely under his control.
Even if she wanted to kneel, she couldn’t. He held complete dominance over her physical movements.
“You’re not moving. You have a surprisingly strong will.”
“Cough... gah...”
Jeong Yeon-shin, gripping Namgung Mi’s neck, laughed lowly behind his specter mask.
The hem of his Pureblood Robe swayed like a trail of blood as it fluttered to the ground. The sight was both grotesque and mesmerizing.