Monts later, the barrier of silence surrounding Ma Yeon-jeok’s carriage disappeared.
The Fortress Lord of Ipwang, wearing an inscrutable expression, stepped out and then entered the Elder Council Leader’s carriage.
Among the three supre purple-ranked warriors of Ipwang Fortress, two were now bedridden and being transported. This was a critical matter for the sect.
It was not an ordinary situation. As the leader of the sect, it was imperative to oversee the welfare of the disciples.
“The burden on the Fortress Lord must be imnse.”
“It’s not for us to asure or judge.”
Witnessing the highest levels of authority within the sect up close was a rare occurrence.
Even for Jeong Yeon-shin’s senior disciples, it seed to be an uncommon event. Whenever the Fortress Lord appeared, silence reigned as if the air had frozen. However, as soon as she entered the Elder Council Leader’s carriage, murmurs began to rise among the crowd. Everyone joined in.
“The two of them will now have to focus on recovery.”
“That’s right. Who knows how much of the Fortress’ strength has been lost.”
“Imagine two grandmasters of the old factions suddenly retiring from the martial world. No, I can’t even fathom it.”
The conversation revolved around Ma Yeon-jeok and the Elder Council Leader.
The term "golden retirent" referred to a martial artist's withdrawal from the world of martial arts.
Jeong Yeon-shin scanned the gathered seniors scattered freely around him.
About a dozen blue-ranked warriors were discussing the future of the Fortress with solemn faces. Their tones were far from cheerful.
Purple.
The color was a symbol of Ipwang Fortress. It represented the authority that kept unruly martial artists and rogue warriors in check.
“How boldly will the wolves roam now?”
“There won’t be just one or two regional sects openly targeting the Fortress.”
“I heard the Xinjiang branch has already lost contact. They say the descendants of the Bright Sect, who practice sorcery-infused martial arts, are incredibly powerful. A prodigy unseen in centuries, they call them.”
“The Martial Alliance must be dealt with first. It’s no longer about the old factions, but about the noble families leading it. Corruption surely runs deep, even before the assembly begins.”
“Well, so masters from the Qingcheng Sect are present over there…”
Hyeon Won-chang interjected cautiously, indicating this wasn’t the right place for such discussions about the Fortress’ major affairs.
Coincidentally, three Qingcheng Sect masters, who had been conversing amongst themselves, raised their heads one by one.
The Little Sword Marquis glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin with a faint smile, a sowhat naive expression.
Perhaps it was due to witnessing Jeong Yeon-shin’s disregard for the aura of the Pure Devil Sect Lord. Now, the foremost swordsman of the Qingcheng Sect’s younger generation did not hide their admiration for the prodigy of Ipwang Fortress.
The Little Sword Marquis spoke up.
“Our lips are sealed, truly. We’re not particularly close to the noble families, you see. The only person I’d like to get to know better is over there—the one in the stylish black long robe, Jeong So-hyeop.”
The boy ignored the comnt.
He knew thoughtful individuals like Wei Ji Myo-hwa from Zhongnan and Yu Hyeon from Mount Hua. While the Little Sword Marquis didn’t seem to have a bad character, he also didn’t appear to be the kind of person worth investing precious ti to form a connection.
“We’ve safely reached Yangyang, so that’s good enough.”
The middle-aged blue-ranked warrior, Oh Wol-hyang, shook her head as she spoke.
Her expression bore a faint smile as if she were looking at her own sons, Jeong Yeon-shin and Hyeon Won-chang.
Adjusting the empty sleeve of her left arm—lost in Myunggong Island—she continued.
“It’s no longer possible to hide what has happened to the two purple-ranked warriors. How many martial artists from the Blood Fla Cult, Tenfold Gate, and Tang Clan were there? Not to ntion their families. Our Seomye accompanied the Qingcheng warriors to delay rumors from spreading. For safe return, no?”
She asked gently with a smile.
Jeong Yeon-shin sat at the end of her small gesture.
The boy, leaning silently against a tree like the Fortress Lord, nodded. Oh Wol-hyang’s smile deepened.
“You’ve handled your duties as interim leader admirably. We are grateful. For leading us safely to Yangyang until the Fortress Lord’s arrival—you’ve done well.”
“…”
“Once you officially beco a Black Rank, it’ll be harder to speak casually. That’s why I’m expressing my gratitude now.”
Her words were filled with warmth.
The nearby seniors nodded in agreent.
Soon, praises followed that were almost embarrassingly effusive.
The potential of the new Black Rank warrior was unparalleled; they had admired him since his early days under Ma Gwang-ik; his confrontation with the Pure Devil Sect Lord was terrifying, and so on.
“I’m looking forward to the Black Rank promotion ceremony. It’s a rare, grand event for the Fortress.”
Cheongmyeong, with his hood loosened, sat casually on a branch. His posture—leaning lazily among sunlit leaves—did not reflect his injured state.
The distinguished swordsman who had guided Jeong Yeon-shin during his White Rank days now offered a dazzling smile, expressing satisfaction in his own way.
Even among the warriors of the Fortress, bonds of gratitude and obligation were ford.
This mont was one to acknowledge kindness and nurture a spirit of gratitude.
At this ti, the towering masters of Ipwang Fortress, who had once seed impossibly high to the third son of the Jeong family, now raised the boy above themselves.
Though unseen, the sentint was palpable.
This was separate from the uncertain fate of Seomye’s lineage warriors.
The seniors of Ma Gwang-ik were preparing to accept the leadership transition. It was the most crucial task at hand.
“The air feels unbearably warm.”
Tae Yeom-ryong muttered, glancing at the interim leader’s stoic expression.
For a mont, Jeong Yeon-shin sensed a trace of envy in his voice but chose not to probe. He understood the feeling all too well.
The boy often envisioned the sa thing.
Dying alone, with no one to mourn him, having lived a life granted only by the heavens.
Suppressing the familiar thoughts, Jeong Yeon-shin surveyed his surroundings.
The scene he had truly achieved ca into view.
A wide clearing in the forest, just before Yangyang.
Masters of the Fortress perched on high branches with arms crossed or sat leisurely on the ground in scattered clusters.
“…”
The brief silence wasn’t awkward.
Under the radiant sumr sunlight, the green of the leaves glowed brightly.
Like a grand painter’s landscape brought to life, a gentle breeze swept through, uniting these warriors—not as re martial artists or soldiers, but as one.
The birth of the new Black Rank leader had already taken place before his official return. Unseen by anyone, and faster than any event.
***
At the outskirts of Yangyang lay Namjang (南漳), their next destination.
It was a lively city, revitalized by the efforts of the local governor and regional dignitaries. Yellow earth roads stretched cleanly in all directions, and the well-maintained walls of buildings reverberated with the sounds of vendors calling out and rchants striking deals.
Given that the Fortress Lord herself was accompanying them, the atmosphere was charged with significance.
The local governnt quarters, fad for the officials’ integrity, were modest in size. This was a phenonon increasingly apparent as they neared the main fortress of Ipwang. Jeong Yeon-shin enlisted the resourcefulness of Hong Jugeom, a key mber of the Hwanik Corps, to arrange accommodations.
Hong Jugeom was a representative martial artist of the Seomye lineage and a seasoned blue-ranked warrior of Ipwang Fortress. Skilled in diplomacy, he handled the arrangents with finesse.
They secured lodging at Yonghwa Inn (龍華客棧).
It was an expansive five-story pavilion, more fitting as the manor of a local magnate, which they rented in its entirety to accommodate the purple-ranked veterans and the Fortress Lord.
By tomorrow, they would finally reach the main fortress.
Even Ma Gwang-ik and the injured mbers of the Hwanik Corps were able to rest on proper beds for the first ti in a while.
“I heard warriors descended from the heavens. They say goddesses and divine generals are staying here.”
Outside, a commotion grew louder. Dozens of people had gathered at the entrance.
“They ntioned Ipwang Fortress. Soone claid to have seen the ‘Hwang’ character.”
“Isn’t that the sa story?”
The group naturally attracted attention wherever they went. Even the Little Sword Marquis, frustrated at not being able to converse with the Fortress Lord, was a spectacle.
Aside from their reputation as skilled martial artists able to discuss the swordsmanship of the Zhongnan Sect and Mount Hua, their striking appearances drew the eye.
Jeong Yeon-shin, Tae Yeom-ryong, Namgung Hwa-shin, and even Hyeon Won-chang exuded an air of refinent and grace, their features commanding admiration.
If Cheongmyeong hadn’t retreated back into the carriage, the crowd’s interest might have swelled further.
“They say a fairy has descended?”
“Watch your words. That’s the manifestation of the Jade Emperor.”
“The Protector herself has appeared. They an the Fortress Lord of Ipwang.”
An unparalleled beauty can draw as much attention as an extraordinary martial skill. When combined with a status unique in the world, it becos a spectacle, one that no one dares to disturb further.
anwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin stood facing the Fortress Lord.
They were in a clearing between the main building of the inn and a detached annex.
“You may ease your body and mind. Think of it as briefly lifting your spirit above the mundane world.”
The Fortress Lord’s clear voice approached like a gentle breeze, seemingly enveloping the boy’s heightened senses in a soft embrace.
He had just been scanning the crowd gathered at the inn’s entrance using the sensory power of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi.
Her words slightly softened the taut strings of his vigilance.
“No suspicious figures… it seems.”
Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself.
Years of experience had ingrained this state of caution into his being. The journey through Sichuan had only honed his exposure to many supre martial artists.
He was always in the poised stance of a drawn sword.
“You won’t let yourself relax easily.”
The Fortress Lord, who had been quietly observing him, shook her head slightly.
Her hair, cascading elegantly along her fine jawline, swayed with a greenish hue.
“It’s a difficult trait, rooted in your nature.”
“I apologize.”
“There’s no need.”
Her lips curved upward ever so slightly.
“Your goal is far ahead. It’s natural for your disposition to soften as you grow into a master. Today’s lesson might help in a small way.”
Whenever Jeong Yeon-shin was alone with the Fortress Lord, there were monts when his mind seed to wander into a haze.
This was one of those monts.
Her erald-green eyes seed to strip him bare, a gaze that carried an overwhelming transcendence. Beyond her martial prowess, she exuded an aura of absolute supremacy as the pinnacle of her lineage.
Jeong Yeon-shin revolved the radiant wheel in his heart.
The light’s wheel spun within him, circulating power throughout his body.
The mystic energy of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi seeped into his heart and head. With effort, the boy steadied his gaze.
As he t the Fortress Lord’s eyes, taking two deliberate breaths to regain his composure, her lips curled slightly higher.
“At least I didn’t make a fool of myself.”
Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t help but think. The Fortress Lord spoke.
“You refined your vessel at Jeong Ga-jang and gained your rhythm in Sichuan. Now, you’ve begun filling it with water.”
“The advice you gave was imnsely helpful.”
He recalled the note passed to him by the Grand Commander just before his mission.
The Fortress Lord’s handwriting still lingered vividly in his mind.
She smiled faintly.
“Now, it’s ti for you to manage that rhythm. Are you ready to receive a new sword technique?”
“Are you granting the Heart Sword Technique?”
Jeong Yeon-shin answered her question with another.
After a brief pause, she opened her lips.
“I know what you were thinking. You were likely imagining Simjeuksal (心卽殺).”
The legendary technique of slaying an opponent with a blade forged by the heart. It was said to exist only in tales.
“Then…?”
“What I intend to teach you is different. It’s a sword technique that toys with the senses, not one that cuts through the mind. I recently created it, and you will be its first inheritor.”
“A technique that toys with the senses…”
Jeong Yeon-shin repeated her words softly.
Her jade-like eyes gazed at him, her expression unchanged.
It was as if she were asking whether he was disappointed. However, Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t.
He had witnessed the strike that shattered the Pure Devil Sect Lord’s Myunggong Heodo. It was an unparalleled sword technique.
“What is the essence of this technique? I felt nothing at the ti.”
He asked boldly. The Fortress Lord slowly nodded.
“It’s an illusion. A thod that imprints your blade onto your opponent’s mind—intensely so.”
“How does that work?”
“You act as the complete master of your aura and sword wind.”
Her guidance wasn’t just cryptic words.
“Co closer.”
She beckoned with a slight movent of her lips.
They were already only two steps apart. Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated briefly.
Swoosh.
The light green hem of her shoes brushed against the ground.
The supre martial artist hailed as the foremost in the world stepped closer. The second lesson was about to begin.
Reviews
All reviews (0)