“Bwahahaha!”
It was an utterly ridiculous laugh.
Tae Yeom-ryong, perched on the roof of a carriage, thumped loudly on its surface, showing no regard for the senior mbers of Ma Gwang-ik seated inside.
Even his legs, casually propped up, swayed wildly as he roared with laughter, making a spectacle of himself.
He lived life in stark contrast to Jeong Yeon-shin, embodying a candid and unrestrained approach to existence.
His emotions were raw and honest. When enraged, he burned with intensity, as seen during his fight with Yu Hyeon at Yongbong’s gathering. When amused, he laughed with abandon, indifferent to his surroundings.
Everyone present understood why. The Sun ridian, a lineage known for its short lifespan, weighed heavily on them all. No one interfered with his exuberance.
Only Baek Mi-ryeo’s annoyed voice seeped from within the carriage.
“Quiet down, you loudmouth.”
“What’s so funny?”
Hyeon Won-chang asked, his face slightly contorted in confusion. His lips tilted downward, betraying mild irritation.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips curved into a faint smile.
“He’s not wrong. Though his words were unintentional, they hit the mark.”
Despite continuing forward without stopping, Jeong Yeon-shin prepared to offer an apologetic bow.
The details of Ma Yeon-jeok’s condition were not common knowledge.
If Chui So-ok had approached out of ignorance, then Jeong Yeon-shin had acted discourteously.
Above all, the recent warning to avoid provoking any undue disruption lingered in his mind.
At that mont, Chui So-ok’s previously stiff expression softened.
The corners of her lips curved subtly, and an inexplicable laugh escaped her, creating a curious impression. Her face seed warm and friendly, yet inscrutable.
“It seems the great hero’s situation is indeed unusual,” she said with a smile, her lips moving gently.
“Seomye… Jeong So-hyeop, is it? It seems I’ve been rude. Please forgive .”
“...”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be sly, truly. I simply wanted to pay my respects to the one who vanquished the Bloodfla Cult leader. Wouldn’t it be a great honor, as a fellow martial artist, to receive even a word of wisdom?”
“Not being sly?”
“Well, if it’s truly impossible, then there’s nothing to be done. …Still, as a peer in the martial world, I’ll find my role in so way.”
Her voice was soft, her words carried on the gentle sumr breeze.
Chui So-ok clasped her hands together and raised them. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders, her posture radiating sincerity.
Jeong Yeon-shin noted the gesture.
‘So-gumhu… she’s an interesting person.’
He silently returned the gesture, a polite bow of acknowledgnt.
Her deanor embodied the freedom Namgung Se-jin, the Azure Qilin, once spoke of—moving with autonomy, unburdened by societal expectations, yet apologizing sincerely if she overstepped.
As the next leader of Qingcheng Sect, she seed remarkably different from the heirs of other prominent families.
‘Freedom always cos at a cost.’
Namgung Se-jin, unable to abandon his position as clan heir, had spoken similarly.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his lips.
“And what is this role you ntioned?”
“Ah.”
Chui So-ok’s smile dimd slightly.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of the current state of the martial world?”
“I haven’t.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s answer was curt. His travels had been limited to the Tang Clan and the guild roads, and his focus had been consud by his grandfather’s condition.
“Ah, I see.”
Chui So-ok smiled, unperturbed, though her gaze drifted toward the three carriages.
It was evident she wished to see Ma Yeon-jeok in person.
Finally, she spoke slowly.
“Still, you must have heard about the establishnt of the Martial Alliance.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“The Zhuge family of Central Plains gathered the major clans to form it. Seven prestigious families and dozens of sects proclaiming righteousness have co together to create this alliance. Even the nine mountain sects, including my own, have received invitations.”
“And?”
“The demonic sects, especially the Thirteen Heavens, are reacting sharply. To them, this must appear as the second rise of Ipwang Fortress. What’s more, rumors are spreading about the duel between Ipwang Fortress’s purple-clad expert and the Bloodfla Cult leader—how it ended in mutual destruction.”
“...”
“Astonishing news, of course. But so see this as an opportunity to weaken their adversaries’ power. And with whispers of another gravely injured purple-clad expert lying on a sickbed…”
Her hazy gaze swept over the three carriages as though she could see through them to the Elder’s resting place. When her eyes t Jeong Yeon-shin’s, she gave him a playful smile.
So-gumhu Chui So-ok was, indeed, an enigmatic figure.
Jeong Yeon-shin noticed subtle shifts around him.
Hyeon Won-chang adjusted his grip on his sword, while Namgung Hwa-shin exuded an aura of controlled intensity despite his composed facade.
Even the usually unflappable warriors of his group were on edge.
“It seems there are those intent on targeting the Fortress’s journey,” Jeong Yeon-shin said, his voice calm but tinged with unease.
Chui So-ok nodded softly in agreent.
At that mont, one of her companions stepped forward.
“I am Sa Do-ryeong of Qingcheng Sect,” the man said, offering a curt bow.
Dressed in a blue martial robe with a sword at his side, he carried himself with confidence.
Known as the “Piercing Sun Sword,” Sa Do-ryeong was renowned for his skill and acts of heroism.
“I suggest we take our leave, Sa-jeo. We’ve offered enough advice,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice.
He seed displeased by Jeong Yeon-shin’s deanor, though he refrained from voicing outright criticism.
“Hmm… Perhaps we should,” Chui So-ok replied, tilting her head slightly.
Her ebony hair swayed with the motion, reflecting her free-spirited nature.
Jeong Yeon-shin studied her quietly before speaking.
“You’re leaving?”
“Hahahahaha!”
A loud and almost comical laugh erupted.
Perched atop the carriage, Tae Yeom-ryong slapped the roof with both hands as he laughed uncontrollably. He paid no mind to the fact that this very carriage carried senior mbers of Ma Gwang-ik's group. His sprawling legs kicked out sporadically as he doubled over in amusent.
His laughter was as fiery and unrestrained as his temperant, an apt reflection of his short-lived life. Tae Yeom-ryong lived with raw emotions on full display: blazing fury during battle and unfiltered joy in monts like this.
Inside the carriage, Baek Mi-ryeo’s irritated voice seeped through.
“Do you ever shut up, naless brat?”
“What’s so funny?” Hyeon Won-chang asked, visibly annoyed, the corners of his lips slightly downturned.
Jeong Yeon-shin, however, allowed a faint curve to form on his lips as he spoke.
“He’s not entirely wrong.”
Despite the biting exchange, Jeong Yeon-shin maintained his composure while walking. His black cloak billowed slightly as he raised a fist to gesture an apology.
The situation was delicate. While the state of Ma Yeon-jeok was not widely known, these disciples of the Nine Great Schools had clearly deduced more than enough. To let them leave freely could have consequences far-reaching and severe.
Suddenly, a sharp voice broke through.
“Seize them.”
A roaring fla descended from the air, crashing into the ground with a deafening impact.
Tae Yeom-ryong, clad in fiery red qi from his Solar ridian, lunged toward Sa Do-ryeong in an arc, laughter still tumbling from his lips. The oppressive heat distorted the very air around him.
“Should we not kill them?” he asked playfully, gnawing on a roasted poppy seed.
“Just capture them,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied coldly.
With a thunderous crash, Tae Yeom-ryong’s fist collided with Sa Do-ryeong’s sword, shattering the blade into countless shards. The shockwave radiated outward, the sheer heat from his strike burning the fragnts into ash before they hit the ground.
In an instant, Tae Yeom-ryong seized Sa Do-ryeong by the back of the neck, his voice a low murmur.
“Where do you think you’re going after nosing around such critical matters? Let ask you this—if the Sect Leader of Mount Tianzang had been in that carriage, would you have let us leave unscathed?”
“Hrk…!”
“Stop glaring, little one,” Tae Yeom-ryong sneered, his grin broadening as he sent fiery energy coursing into Sa Do-ryeong’s pressure points, immobilizing him instantly.
On the other side, Namgung Hwa-shin held her sword to the throat of another woman, one of the companions from Mount Tianzang—Mu-geom, the fad Dancing Sword of Tianzang.
Namgung Hwa-shin’s technique, the Sky's Freedom Swordsmanship, was so overwhelming that Mu-geom couldn’t deflect even a single strike.
Jeong Yeon-shin, standing at the center, exuded a calm dominance. Encased in an aura of sacred qi from the Heavenly Dharma Wheel, his presence suppressed all surrounding waves of qi, holding the fragile balance in place.
“You…”
The gentle expression on Chui So-ok’s face wavered for the first ti as her gaze shifted from the carriages to Jeong Yeon-shin.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Jeong Yeon-shin declared softly.
The hem of his black cloak fluttered as his aura surged with controlled intensity. His right sleeve, flowing like dark silk in the wind, betrayed a resolute decision.
This return journey was a trial, a test of his leadership as a temporary commander of the Black Division. Each step he took was under scrutiny—both by his seniors Ma Gwang-ik and the elder council, and by the ultimate arbiter of his worthiness as a future leader of Ipwang Fortress.
In that mont, Chui So-ok’s composed smile returned. A faint, almost playful curve of her lips.
“To think such a young and brilliant martial artist would be so forceful in courting . It stirs my maiden heart.”
Her tone was light and teasing, but Jeong Yeon-shin’s response was firm.
“This isn’t sothing we can just laugh off. You brought this upon yourself.”
“Fair enough. But I hope my intentions won’t be misunderstood,” she said, a hint of sincerity lacing her words.
Jeong Yeon-shin inclined his head slightly in acknowledgnt. “Your advice is appreciated.”
With that, he straightened, his sharp gaze igniting with lightning-like clarity.
“But that’s where it ends. You’ve overstayed your welco. You’re coming with us—back to Yangyang.”
Chui So-ok’s expression stiffened, her carefree deanor faltering for just a mont. Her hand lightly tapped the hilt of her sword, as if gauging her options.
“I swear on my honor, I won’t speak a word of what I’ve seen here.”
“Your honor isn’t enough,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied, his hand tightening around the gleaming white hilt of the North Star Sword.
“Will you resist?” he asked, his calm voice rippling with unshaken resolve.
The air grew tense. The subtle hum of the Heavenly Dharma Wheel’s sacred energy filled the silence, circling Jeong Yeon-shin as he stood firm.
Behind him, Tae Yeom-ryong chuckled darkly, while Namgung Hwa-shin’s sword pressed closer to Mu-geom’s neck.
The disciples of Mount Tianzang were caught between retreat and confrontation, their every move stifled by the calculated dominance of Ipwang Fortress’s temporary commander.
As Jeong Yeon-shin stood tall, the sumr sun glead off the silver hilt of his sword, its radiance a stark contrast to the heavy tension in the air.
Reviews
All reviews (0)