Despite Jeong Yeon-shin's unease, the girl was undeniably beautiful.
Tap, tap.
She stepped two paces forward from the ranks of the Mulong Society. Her refined demeanor was evident as she walked gracefully and offered a small, polite bow. Even her slow movements exuded elegance.
“I came to inform you that I have no intention of hostility,” the girl said, her tone polite but confident. Her smiling face appeared utterly composed—even in the presence of the most formidable force in Ipwang Fortress.
Regardless of her intentions, it was clear she possessed an uncommon level of courage.
“State your identity and purpose.”
The one who spoke was Yeon So-ha, the youngest member of the Shin Sword Corps. As the junior of the group, he often handled the less glamorous tasks.
His curt, almost dismissive words might have seemed rude, but no one appeared to take offense. Not even Jeong Yeon-shin.
He understood this was simply the public face of the Shin Sword Corps.
‘They must always appear as the strongest, no matter which martial faction they encounter...’
Jeong Yeon-shin carefully observed the masters of the Shin Sword Corps.
Yeon So-ha stood at the front with a casual, almost slouching posture, resembling a gang leader. The leader of the corps, the Singeom Danju, appeared as though on a leisurely stroll, and Ak Su-rim stood with his arms clasped behind his back, resting his weight on one leg.
They showed no imposing aura, yet they were more threatening than anyone else present.
It wasn’t just them. All twenty martial artists of the Shin Sword Corps radiated immense latent power.
And this wasn’t limited to mere presence; these were individuals who had endured countless battles on the front lines of Ipwang Fortress. They were undoubtedly stronger than most warriors of similar rank.
‘Could I lead them?’
Jeong Yeon-shin pondered.
To achieve his goals, he would need to command them. But for now, it seemed an impossible task.
To even sit to the left of the Singeom Danju, he would first have to become the deputy leader of the corps. The current deputy, Ak Su-rim, was a black-class grandmaster, someone who could even pose a challenge to Ma Jin.
‘It’s obvious. He’s mastered rejuvenating techniques. I can’t even guess the extent of his internal energy cultivation.’
For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze met Ak Su-rim’s. The older man narrowed his eyes and gave a playful wink. Jeong Yeon-shin coolly turned his attention forward, maintaining his composure.
“What about you, sir?”
The conversation between the girl from the Mulong Society and Yeon So-ha continued.
“I asked you first. Or are you showing your true colors as a scoundrel from the demonic sects?”
“Ah, I see now. They said the Shin Sword Corps has a sharp broomstick, and I suppose that’s you—Yeon So-ha, the ‘Sharp Blade of the Shin Sword Corps.’”
“You really nailed the nickname I hate. Are you trying to pick a fight?”
“I apologize for my rudeness. Deal with that.”
The last comment wasn’t directed at Yeon So-ha but at the six blood-crazed demons rushing toward them. These were bloodthirsty ghouls who had lost their sanity to Blood Arts and broken away from the commands of the Bloodflame Cult.
Their eyes gleamed red, tongues hanging grotesquely from their mouths.
Unable to endure the corruption of their own blood techniques, they were on the verge of self-destruction.
Their eyes locked onto Jeong Yeon-shin as they charged. Even their movements from the flanks made their intent clear.
‘I remember.’
These were faces he had seen before at the main base of the Bloodflame Cult. They must have escaped the slaughter on the day of the raid by being elsewhere, on other missions.
Though their speech was slurred, their blood-soaked lips seemed to form the words, “Taesa, Taesa, save us...”
‘The Lord of Ipwang Fortress said the Bloodflame Cult Leader survived. But there’s no way they escaped unscathed. They’re likely still reeling from the aftermath of the battle.’
Jeong Yeon-shin quietly stroked the hilt of his sword. In the martial world, debts of blood were to be settled by those involved.
He couldn’t allow these lunatics to go on invoking the name "Taesa." Prepared to act if necessary, he stepped forward until he was just behind Yeon So-ha.
At this point, his bearing carried the poise of a seasoned martial artist—a remarkable achievement for someone so young.
“The Bloodflame Cult’s main base has collapsed, and now they’re reduced to mere stragglers. I suppose they have many branches to fall back on.”
The girl from the Mulong Society glanced briefly at Jeong Yeon-shin before speaking. Her subordinates behind her stood ready to act on her command.
The word "deal with it" caused a ripple of action. The elite guards around her sprang into motion, their weapons unleashing a fierce storm of energy.
These were clearly high-ranking martial artists, among the best of the Thirteen Heavens. Their sword techniques, blade arts, and other martial skills swiftly annihilated the blood-crazed demons.
Unlike the righteous sects, demonic factions showed no restraint against their own.
“Not bad swordsmanship,” Yeon So-ha muttered with a sneer, glancing sideways at Jeong Yeon-shin, who silently watched the unfolding chaos.
When Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t respond, Yeon So-ha shrugged and scoffed toward the girl.
“You just stand there weighing your options. You’re not a martial artist, are you?”
“There are no non-martial artists in the Mulong Society. And none so foolish as to fall to these lowly blood demons,” she replied with a smile.
“If there were, it would only be right for them to cease existing.”
Her elegant face delivered cold words. She seemed unbothered by the idea of losing a few subordinates if it came to that.
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The Mulong Society was aptly named—a faction where individuals forsook formal sects to pursue martial arts for their own sake.
‘Mulong Society... I’ve heard they don’t harm common folk.’
A rarity among the Thirteen Heavens.
This was why the Shin Sword Corps hadn’t drawn their swords first. The Mulong Society operated this way.
Its members abandoned their sects after stealing their martial secrets, gathering to share and refine martial arts among themselves.
They disrupted the unspoken rules of the martial world and were labeled as heretics.
Yet, within Ipwang Fortress, the perspective was different.
As long as they didn’t disrupt the lives of common folk, there was no reason to antagonize them. Their internal disputes rarely spilled into the public.
Jeong Yeon-shin observed the returning martial artists who had dealt with the blood demons. Not all had escaped unscathed.
One of them bore a deep gash on their arm, yet the girl from the Mulong Society merely smiled silently at the sight of her injured subordinate.
“Your skills are lacking.”
“I will strive to improve.”
Their exchange was devoid of any emotion. If anything, it carried a faint hint of disdain. It was unnerving, as though it would have been more reassuring to sense anger.
This was the Thirteen Heavens. Their behavior, bizarre enough to be called heretical in the martial world, matched their reputation.
The masters of the Shin Sword Corps, except for Jeong Yeon-shin, appeared unbothered. They had likely encountered plenty of the Thirteen Heavens before.
“Thanks for handling that. Now, what’s your name and position?”
Yeon So-ha asked casually.
“Hwaryeonbi.”
The girl responded.
Jeong Yeon-shin recognized the name. Like the Shin Sword Corps, the martial world was full of strange individuals.
She had answered both questions with one word. Her name and position were one and the same, though her exact status remained unclear.
Yeon So-ha seemed equally puzzled.
“Hwaryeonbi? ‘The Queen of Calamity’? What’s that supposed to mean?”
The girl, Hwaryeonbi, simply smiled.
Hearing her referred to as "Calamity," Jeong Yeon-shin once again touched the hilt of his sword.
The Mulong Society was said to reject conventions and focus solely on the pursuit of martial excellence.
He didn’t underestimate her. Encounters with the Thirteen Heavens had never been easy.
Not since his induction into Ipwang Fortress.
By now, he was growing accustomed to such situations. If he drew his sword, his opponent would be forced to choose:
Die carelessly or die fighting with all their might.
‘If she truly holds a high position in the Mulong Society...’
Hwaryeonbi could be an unparalleled genius or a prodigy with extraordinary abilities. She might even be an experienced grandmaster like Ak Su-rim.
The upper echelons of the martial world, past and present, were filled with such individuals.
“I’ve come to pay my respects to the Singeom Danju,” Hwaryeonbi said politely. “The duel between the Namgung Clan Head and the Shin Sword of Ipwang Fortress left a deep impression on me.”
She bowed slightly, her tone respectful.
“I wished to express my admiration. Anyone would feel compelled to meet someone of such stature.”
“No ulterior motives, then? You’re not just here to test the waters?”
Yeon So-ha propped one leg against the other and smirked. Hwaryeonbi shook her head.
“Our society reveres martial arts above all. How could we act rashly in the presence of someone just beneath the pinnacle of martial excellence?”
“Beneath the pinnacle?”
“The greatest under heaven must be the Lord of Ipwang Fortress...”
"The Mulong Society... so it’s true they gather eccentrics," came the interruption.
The voice belonged to the Singeom Danju, and for the first time, tension appeared on Hwaryeonbi's face.
"The Lord of this fortress is no figure for scoundrels like you to compare yourselves with. How dare you place the master of Ipwang Fortress on the pedestal of your petty ambitions? If anyone is to be considered the pinnacle of martial prowess, I alone suffice."
His words were audacious, declaring himself the greatest under heaven. Yet, it felt entirely natural.
As the Singeom Danju claimed, apart from the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, Jeong Yeon-shin could not think of many others worthy of being called the pinnacle.
‘The Bloodflame Cult Leader, the Blade Sect Master, the Zhongnan Sect Leader, the Sword Saint of Zhongnan...’
All were exceptional in strength. The Sword Saint of Zhongnan, in particular, was the only one after the Lord of Ipwang Fortress to see through Jeong Yeon-shin's unique constitution.
Even so, the Singeom Danju’s presence felt distinctly different. It wasn’t just overwhelming; it was vivid, unshakable.
He seemed like someone who could not lose, no matter the fight.
"..."
Hwaryeonbi fell silent for a moment. Then Ak Su-rim, who had quietly approached Jeong Yeon-shin’s side, spoke up.
"You there, kid. It feels like you’ve got a different purpose in mind."
Her voice was soft, but her faint smile carried a sharp edge.
"I know already. The way you’ve been eyeing our Seomye? Pretty shameless, huh? Your energy was obvious, too—brazen, even."
"Oh."
A soft gasp escaped Hwaryeonbi’s lips. Her expression turned slightly brighter, as if she had been waiting for someone to say those words.
Her smile deepened, a strange air about her. Her ruby-red lips moved slightly as she spoke.
"That young man... You called him Seomye, correct?"
Her delicate hand, as fair as porcelain, pointed directly at Jeong Yeon-shin.
"I witnessed an extraordinary duel. I came to extend an invitation. To our society."
At those words, Jeong Yeon-shin’s face darkened. Displeasure radiated from him, as though his patience had been shattered. His expression betrayed a rare crack in his composure. What was the Mulong Society? What was this talk of martial excellence?
"Of course, I wouldn’t dare ask you to leave Ipwang Fortress and abandon your sect. I merely—"
"If your business is solely with me," Jeong Yeon-shin interrupted, turning his head. His gaze no longer lingered on Hwaryeonbi but shifted toward Ak Su-rim and the Singeom Danju.
"I believe we can resume our journey. The mission is complete, and we should return swiftly."
"...Is that so? You’re right," the Singeom Danju replied, momentarily caught off guard. By now, Jeong Yeon-shin had grown used to the leader’s multifaceted demeanor and simply nodded in agreement.
The Singeom Danju smiled.
"Then we have no further business. Let’s move along. The elders agree?"
"This expedition is your responsibility," Ma Yeon-jeok replied curtly, his glare fixed on the Mulong Society. It seemed Hwaryeonbi’s mention of his grandson had put him in a sour mood.
Step.
The group began to move forward once more. The masters of the Shin Sword Corps paid no heed to the potential enemies as they passed the Mulong Society.
"What...?"
Hwaryeonbi's sharp gaze followed them, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. But Jeong Yeon-shin ignored her and walked on, even closing his eyes.
He sought to organize the insights he had gained from observing the Singeom Danju’s inner workings. Yet he kept pace effortlessly.
It was hard to say how far they had walked. When even the distant echoes of a landslide faded, a fresh, subtle fragrance suddenly wafted through the air.
Jeong Yeon-shin furrowed his brows and instinctively stepped aside.
Even with his eyes closed, he recognized the scent. It was Ak Su-rim.
"Hey, hey. What was that? That pretty girl said she wanted to invite you after witnessing your skills," Ak Su-rim teased.
"...Her hands," Jeong Yeon-shin muttered.
"Huh?"
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his eyes.
"She had delicate hands. Yet she’s the one who called her subordinate’s efforts inadequate."
"Ah."
Ak Su-rim’s lips curved into a faint smile, as though she found his response endearing.
"A true swordmaster bears famine in their palms. The calluses speak of their dedication. Not all martial arts leave marks on the practitioner, but mine do. Her martial skills did not interest me."
"Hmm..."
"If Hwaryeonbi is naturally gifted, I have nothing to learn from her. If she is an elder who has reversed aging, then her lack of calluses means she has grown complacent in her training. The martial arts of the world are ever-evolving. I would sooner seek guidance from you, Senior Ak, than entertain someone like her."
"You’re an interesting one, aren’t you?"
Ak Su-rim’s grin widened, her amusement evident.
At that moment, the Singeom Danju halted abruptly and spoke.
"Anyone see prying eyes? Speak up, quickly."
"No one. None that I can tell," Yeon So-ha answered promptly.
Uueeek—!
A sudden, crude noise shattered the quiet as the Singeom Danju coughed up a mouthful of blood. A considerable amount spilled forth, dark as ink.
It was a sign of internal injury—a price he had paid for defeating the Namgung Clan Head in a brief yet decisive duel.
Whoosh!
The Shin Sword Corps moved in unison, forming a protective circle around the Singeom Danju. Their coordination was flawless.
"Namgung Clan Head. The strongest opponent I’ve faced in three years. It’s rare to go up against one of the Eight Clan Heads," Ak Su-rim murmured, shaking her head. A hint of worry crossed her face.
The Singeom Danju knelt, both hands braced against his knees. He continued to cough, expelling the blood he had been holding back.
The stains grew brighter, redder.
Jeong Yeon-shin cautiously spoke.
"If you’ve been holding back this whole time, it was wise not to engage the Mulong Society. Even if they harbor suspicions, your health is paramount. I’ve heard your presence is considered a treasure of Ipwang Fortress. Please, prioritize your well-being—"
"Seomye? What are you saying? Even if I push myself—"
The Singeom Danju chuckled through bloodied lips. For a brief moment, his eyes shone with a sharp, radiant light.
"Would it be more than you?"