Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t particularly upset.
It wasn’t because the Sword Corps Captain had promised him a reward; it had been a spur-of-the-moment remark. Instead, the discomfort came from the disconnect he felt when observing the Sword Corps Captain’s multifaceted demeanor.
A martial master who had just demonstrated divine skill now spoke like an ordinary person. The contrast was truly jarring.
“The Captain completely lied, didn’t he? It’s total deception,” Yeon So-ha remarked, frowning.
“I knew it. It’s always like this. The ones who disgrace our division the most are Elder Ak and the Captain. Bringing down our reputation in front of a new junior like this.”
“No, it wasn’t a lie.”
The Sword Corps Captain shook his head.
“Seomye, don’t misunderstand. I was talking about fostering a connection with our Sword Corps. Something worth boasting about, in its own way...”
“Shameless as ever. I see you’re recovering from internal injuries quite comfortably,” Ak Su-rim quipped with a sly smile, standing on one leg in a relaxed pose. Her demeanor was as brash as that of a village troublemaker.
Jeong Yeon-shin found himself staring at her. Despite her youthful appearance, she mocked the Captain with a tone that was strangely casual. She, too, struck him as peculiar.
“This Captain keeps his promises. What do you say? Will you accompany us until we pass through Yangyang?”
“I can’t go as far as the main stronghold. I have another mission right after this. It’s always like this—no time to rest,” Yeon So-ha interjected quickly.
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t respond. He simply gazed at the Sword Corps Captain.
Feeling the weight of his stare, the Captain adjusted the folds of his purple robe and averted his gaze. His demeanor was a stark contrast to the overwhelming presence he’d shown in battle.
Then, it happened.
It began subtly.
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly felt a vibration beneath his feet. It wasn’t the aftermath of a martial step but something different.
It was an odd, distant tremor, slowly and faintly intensifying, creeping up through the soles of his feet.
“What...?” Ak Su-rim’s face turned pale with alarm.
A sound from above grew increasingly ominous. It was becoming louder.
In less than a breath’s time, everyone seemed to realize what was happening.
At the same moment, the crowds scattered along the ridge began shouting and dispersing.
“The Mountain God...! The Mountain God is enraged!”
“Is this divine punishment for Ipwang Fortress’s wickedness?!”
“It’s a landslide! A landslide!”
The voices of those who relied on Namgung’s patronage in Huizhou were mixed in, but no one paid attention to them.
“We need to move,” Ak Su-rim muttered in shock. Energy surged from the bodies of Yeon So-ha, the Sword Corps Captain, and the other Sword Corps experts.
“This is all because the Captain had to cause such a ruckus fighting the Namgung Patriarch...”
“Fall back! Secure the White Qilin first!”
The cries of “landslide” were accurate. Dust clouds rose from several massive peaks flanking the Qingya Valley.
A thick, enormous haze of yellowish dust began to billow, accompanied by soil and boulders sliding downward.
Rumble!
Jeong Yeon-shin cast a sidelong glance at Namgung Hwa-shin. The towering figure was slung over a senior’s shoulder like a sack of luggage.
The battle had concluded with nature delivering the final blow. The devastation was a direct result of the clash between the Sword Corps Captain and the Namgung Patriarch.
‘A calamity caused by human hands.’
Whoosh!
Running alongside the senior carrying Namgung Hwa-shin, Jeong Yeon-shin kept pace. The man, a handsome middle-aged figure, gave him a brief smile before flinching upon noticing Ma Yeon-jeok running beside the boy.
“What are you doing?! Did you exchange your energy for that of a slug?!”
Ahead of them, Ak Su-rim yelled sharply over her shoulder.
Despite carrying a spear on her small back, she darted ahead effortlessly, exuding the most composure among the Sword Corps members. She turned her body repeatedly, scanning the group. Though her face was youthful, she moved like a matron watching over everyone.
The real problem was the Sword Corps Captain, who wore a faint, almost amused smile.
His movements were noticeably sluggish. Considering his martial prowess, it was hard to believe, yet he seemed genuinely strained to keep up.
The once pristine flow of his energy was unraveling like tangled threads.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened slightly.
‘The Captain’s internal injuries are severe. His energy depletion... I can’t even begin to estimate it.’
He recalled the moment right after the Namgung Patriarch’s death. Ak Su-rim had casually remarked for the Captain to adjust his breathing.
In broad daylight, in front of countless martial artists, the foremost purple-clad warrior of Ipwang Fortress had to maintain his reputation. What would it mean for Ipwang if he showed weakness?
To display vulnerability in front of the martial sects? The challenges Ipwang Fortress would face from that moment onward would be...
‘I can’t even fathom it.’
The boy thought, then concluded with certainty: The Captain was masking his injuries with superhuman endurance.
He could only imagine the desperate effort the Captain had exerted in the duel. Each patriarch of the Eight Noble Clans was said to be an absolute power in the martial world.
Was there any martial artist who could defeat the Namgung Patriarch and remain unscathed? Other than the extraordinary Lord of Ipwang Fortress, no one came to mind.
Even with Jeong Yeon-shin’s limited experience, it was clear: For the Captain to emerge with only internal injuries was beyond extraordinary.
“Captain, should I carry you?” Yeon So-ha asked casually.
Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t the only one to notice. Ipwang’s Sword Corps boasted some of the sharpest martial insight, and their leader’s subtle imbalance couldn’t have gone unnoticed.
A group of them had already begun subtly surrounding the Captain.
“Hmm. That would draw too much attention.”
The Captain didn’t deny his condition.
“I’m exhausted, so don’t talk to me. Any of you.”
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With a half-joking tone, he pushed forward, relying heavily on his own legs. His stride, though powerful, suggested that he was moving more with physical strength than with martial energy.
Though his scholarly appearance remained intact, his body was honed to an extraordinary degree. Yet, his energy seemed incapable of supporting it.
Whoosh!
Jeong Yeon-shin edged closer.
From up close, it became evident: Every step the Captain took was heavy. His physical exhaustion was undeniable.
Rumble!
“We need to reach somewhere out of sight, quickly.”
The thunderous noise behind them drew closer as Yeon So-ha murmured.
She appeared to be one of the younger members of the Sword Corps but lacked her usual carefree demeanor.
Ak Su-rim was the same, flicking her loose hair irritably and frequently glancing at the Captain.
“Move faster! We don’t know how far this will go!”
“Those people—they’re from Ipwang Fortress, aren’t they? How did they get here so quickly...?”
Meanwhile, numerous martial artists were fleeing through the ridges and pathways of Qingya Valley’s gorge.
All of them displayed mastery of lightness skills. Their gazes were sharp as they cast sidelong glances at the high-ranking warriors of Ipwang, including the Sword Corps Captain.
Huizhou in Nanjili was entirely within Namgung’s domain. How many of those fleeing today were tied to the deceased direct heirs through grievances or obligations?
For every resentment, there were countless others intertwined with favor and mutual interests.
“If someone could transfer a bit of energy, he might recover faster...” Ak Su-rim bit her lip.
The Sword Corps was famous for its peerless strength, yet their retreat was slow—deliberately matched to the pace of their injured Captain.
“It’s only the Captain himself. There’s no one else here who could manage something like that while running with lightness skills,” whispered Yeon So-ha, scanning their surroundings.
Among the martial artists fleeing the wrath of nature, there were some masters. That some in the crowd had the leisure to observe their surroundings meant that they were a threat.
The Sword Corps’ current pace was conspicuous. If they remained in sight for too long, it would inevitably invite suspicion.
‘At least we’re at a distance. Ordinary voices won’t carry far enough for high-level martial artists to hear,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
It would have been better if they were only being observed by commoners. However, the leader of Ipwang Fortress’ Sword Corps couldn’t afford to appear weak to the martial artists of Jianghu.
Rumble! Crash!
Now, even the inner walls of the gorge were collapsing. The fury of nature, provoked by martial skill, had become an unstoppable disaster.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the expressions of the Sword Corps experts. The casual ease with which they’d exchanged jokes moments ago had vanished.
This was a crisis. Given the scale of the event and the eyes of the entire martial world upon it, there were likely many here who openly resented Ipwang Fortress.
‘Speculation and certainty are worlds apart.’
Could two or three of the Eight Noble Clan leaders kill the Sword Corps Captain if they joined forces? It was a claim anyone could make.
There wouldn’t even be many who would dispute it. The history of Jianghu martial arts had proven that no matter how great one’s martial skill, challengers would always emerge.
But seeing weakness firsthand was a completely different matter. The timing and place made it particularly perilous.
“Captain, breathe properly! Otherwise, we’re all going to get wiped out! How much chaos have you caused already?”
“There are a lot of big shots gathered here. I saw at least three or four representatives from the Thirteen Heavens. If things go south, they’ll gang up on us and bury us first. Without the Captain, it’ll be an outright bloodbath.”
“The White Qilin will definitely die.”
These urgent remarks came from Yeon So-ha and the Sword Corps experts. Their whispers, carrying the edge of panic, bordered on comical.
Jeong Yeon-shin observed them calmly. Wouldn’t it be better to use transmitted sound techniques?
The Sword Corps Captain let out a faint laugh, putting more strength into his movements. A long exhale escaped through his tightly closed lips.
He looked like a wounded tiger pretending to flee unscathed—running with a pack of lynxes in tow. After all, Ipwang Fortress was inherently the enemy of the entire martial world.
The few exceptions were the righteous factions like the Zhongnan Sect and Shaolin, who had treated Jeong Yeon-shin with fairness and integrity.
“Grandfather.”
“Speak, Yeon-shin,” Ma Yeon-jeok replied calmly. Running beside Jeong Yeon-shin, he resembled a regal immortal.
“Can’t the Captain use his internal energy to stabilize both his lightness skill and his injuries at the same time? You’re also a purple-ranked master, Grandfather.”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked directly. At the level of a purple-ranked master, all three dantians would have been refined to their peak.
The ability to divide and manage internal energy required an absolute level of skill. It was something far beyond ordinary comprehension—a task heavily reliant on the upper dantian.
“...That would be difficult right now,” Ma Yeon-jeok replied after a brief pause.
“The martial arts of the Ma Clan are rough and fast. They build up power quickly but become unstable just as swiftly. Unlike the orthodox techniques of the Nine Great Sects, it’s hard to maintain balance. It’s only advantageous for reaching the pinnacle of martial arts at a young age.”
“That’s why he took the Captain’s position while still practically a brat,” Ak Su-rim interjected, having moved closer with a mocking snort. Ma Yeon-jeok’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“A brat? And you, Ak family whelp, were no more than a blue-nosed child.”
“Must be nice to be old. ‘Blue-nosed child’? How quaint. Let’s maintain some dignity, former Captain,” she retorted sharply, turning her gaze away.
Her jet-black hair, darker than Jeong Yeon-shin’s black robes, swayed as she flicked it back. Her eyes met his through the shifting strands.
“Hey. You’ve got a plan, don’t you? You’ve been darting those clever little eyes around for a while now.”
“...I suppose I do.”
“Come to think of it, you’re quite adept at using your upper dantian. I could tell by the way you fought earlier. Your sense of time felt uncanny even though you haven’t fully entered the realm of ascension. Right, then! Hurry up and do it! Get on with it!”
Ak Su-rim’s discerning gaze was indeed that of a high master.
Jeong Yeon-shin fell silent for a moment, while Ak Su-rim pestered him with an almost childlike impatience.
“What’s the problem? Why are you hesitating?”
“Well... because the Captain entrusting his Mingmen Acupoint to someone he’s just met...”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The question came from the Sword Corps Captain himself, his increasingly labored breathing now more apparent.
At the same time, warning voices echoed from both sides of the Sword Corps formation.
“Those over there are from the Martial Dragon Association. They’re coming down the gorge—they seem intent on confirming something. If the Captain unleashed even a single wave of energy, they’d probably turn back immediately.”
“Up on the left, there’s the Simmuryun group. And over there... yes, I see members of the Bloodflame Cult as well. Those blood fiends never seem to die off.”
Four of the Thirteen Heavens were present. While running, Ak Su-rim sidled up beside Jeong Yeon-shin.
The energy emanating from her was so distinct that her scent reached him as well.
“Seomye, that blue robe of yours and that shiny golden ‘Huang’ character—are those just decorations? If you can’t rely on those, what can you trust? Captain, say something. This kid seems to have exceptional intuition.”
“Seomye, I’ll allow you to touch this noble body of mine,” the Captain said, his tone playful even in the face of danger.
Ak Su-rim grabbed Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand with her small palm, leading it toward the Captain’s back without hesitation.
Her touch was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to the image of a battle-hardened warrior.
‘Her calluses are shallow. Reverting to youth isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought, activating his Jeong Ga-donggong energy technique.
If reverting one’s body to youth came at the cost of undoing decades of rigorous training, it might only be worth considering at the twilight of life.
Perhaps it was because they had passed through a massive trial, but even as his hand made contact with the Captain’s back, his thoughts continued.
‘Twilight of life...? Yes. First, I want to grow old.’
The boy wished for it. The question left by the Azure Qilin—Namgung Se-jin—was something he would have to contemplate while still alive.