Hwaak!
The residual energy orbiting the North Star Sword dissipated entirely.
A wave of wind swept through Jeong Yeon-shin’s sleeve, scattering the remnants of the duel.
It no longer felt like the site of a resounding symphony or an elegant dance of swords. Instead, a gentle breeze, like a mirage on a scorching sumr day, brushed over the boy, calm and serene.
Underneath the grand canopy of red fabric that surrounded the arena, the audience sat in silence—a quiet filled with mixed emotions.
Wonder, excitent, curiosity, and a tinge of regret lingered in the air. They all gazed at the boy, who would don the black robes of Ipwang Fortress at the youngest age in its history.
This was the largest event in recent mory at Ipwang Fortress.
The Black Rank Lord’s Promotion Ceremony was not yet over.
Had the duel concluded with the Yullyeong Lord’s suggestion to halt, the crowd would have dispersed. A challenger’s loss signified an early end to the promotion ceremony. However, Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin had erged victorious against the Yullyeong Lord, ensuring the festivities continued.
According to tradition, the ceremony would now proceed with grandeur.
Unlike the seasoned martial masters of Ipwang Fortress, who displayed a range of emotions, the younger servants and naless disciples were simply thrilled.
They relished the rare opportunity to enjoy fine delicacies and an exhilarating atmosphere. Though the solemn air prevented them from cheering recklessly, their joy was palpable.
Amid the crowd were others—about a dozen young martial artists dressed in plain clothes. Their faces were flushed with excitent. A few girls with swords at their waists and boys in training gloves looked downright electrified.
“Honestly, I didn’t see a thing. Yeon-shin hyung’s fast swordsmanship has always been impressive, but this was... sothing else.”
“He probably held back when sparring with us. It’s always practice duels, you know.”
“Yeah, no kidding. If Seomye-oppa had gone all out, we wouldn’t have seen a single move from the start.”
“So, does this an Yeon-shin hyung will now sit in the Lord’s chamber? Think we can visit often? I saw a bunch of sweets in the tea cabinet there. They’re ours now, right?”
“Maybe those were set aside by the Lord herself? She always gave one whenever I stopped by.”
The naless disciples of Ma Gwang-ik chattered among themselves, seated closely under the canopy, their eyes fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin.
The sunlight made their bright eyes glisten as they failed to suppress their excitent.
As long as their expressions didn’t criticize the duel itself, their reactions were left unchecked.
Ipwang Fortress valued freedom within the bounds of its laws. Only those who broke the rules faced the Yullyeong Unit’s wrath.
Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin, who had led the Hwanik Corps and Ma Gwang-ik during his journeys to Sichuan and back, had earned recognition from seasoned masters. Now, conversations among the naless disciples about their prospective leader carried weight.
“It seems the tide has turned. Within Ma Gwang-ik, he’s already acknowledged.”
“He might as well take a seat in Wonpyeong Sword Hall.”
“But how this all concludes today will be the deciding factor.”
Most martial artists now had their eyes on the Yullyeong Lord.
While the outco of the duel was clear, gaining her acknowledgnt was another matter.
She had already formally opposed the promotion.
That stance was now at odds with reality, evidenced by the sparkling fragnts of her shattered sword scattered around them.
Under the piercing sunlight, the glittering shards seed almost mocking—a testant to the Yullyeong Lord’s shattered dignity.
If she refused to accept the results, another duel might be ordered under the command of the Ipwang Fortress Lord.
Jeong Yeon-shin, having already sheathed his North Star Sword, stood still, while the Yullyeong Lord, still holding her broken blade, remained motionless.
She stood in a daze, her usual impassive expression fractured. A hint of genuine surprise was visible.
“...”
Slowly, the Yullyeong Lord’s arm lowered.
The once-steadfast grip of the noble swordswoman now trembled slightly. The commanding poise she displayed during the duel had faded.
Her voice broke the silence as she finally spoke.
“...I lost.”
Her black robe fluttered weakly, blending with the fractured remnants of her sword to create a peculiar scene.
“It was a good duel. Thank you,” she said.
Jeong Yeon-shin raised his hands in a formal martial salute. His gesture was impeccable, though his expression remained detached—colder than even the Yullyeong Lord’s had been before the duel. It bordered on frosty.
Inside, Jeong Yeon-shin concealed his thoughts with difficulty.
‘The Blue Rank swordsman on your side would’ve been a more useful opponent.’
He had anticipated acquiring a new challenge but felt as though he’d been handed a worn-out trinket instead.
It was akin to the disappointnt of a child in a harmonious household—a sentint he couldn’t quite describe or rember experiencing before.
Despite his discontent, the spectators expressed admiration.
“Look at that composure. Truly cool-headed. He has the air of a rare swordsman.”
“He doesn’t seem particularly happy. Was he more eager for the duel than the promotion?”
“Well, the Yullyeong Lord didn’t get a chance to fully reveal her techniques. But Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin, maintaining such humility before his promotion to Lord—it bodes well for Ma Gwang-ik’s revival.”
“Or maybe he’s just sulking. That face says it all. It’s exactly how I looked when dealing with my family’s failures.”
Tae Yeom-ryong muttered, but no one seed to pay him any mind. The Ma Gwang-ik masters who stood nearby collectively shifted their gazes upward.
The Ipwang Fortress Lord had risen from her seat at the Taesa Pavilion.
Swish.
The soft green hem of her robe brushed against her seat. The faint sound echoed loudly, as sharp as the mont Jeong Yeon-shin had sheathed his sword.
All eyes followed her unhurried movents. It was as if she carried an aura that drew every gaze, her presence radiating transcendence.
“...”
Another silence fell, this ti carrying a dreamlike quality.
The Ipwang Fortress Lord stood fully upright, her skin glowing faintly with an ethereal sheen. Sunlight caressed her face, whispering softly as though the forest’s tranquility now draped over the entire arena.
“Seomye has proven himself worthy,” she began.
“Since Yun So-yu has admitted defeat, Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin possesses skills befitting the Black Rank.”
“...”
“I permit the continuation of the promotion ceremony.”
At her proclamation, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Excitent surged as people rushed toward the stage.
Most of those approaching were Ma Gwang-ik masters and naless disciples. They quickly surrounded Jeong Yeon-shin.
“What was that just now? Did you dismantle her dismantling technique? How did you use energy that way?”
“Blocking her sword flow looked almost like a supernatural ability. Was that so kind of telekinesis used by sorcerers? No way that was purely a martial skill. Well, maybe it is since it’s you.”
“We better heap on the praise now. Once you’re officially promoted, talking to you will be much harder!”
“Your first mission won’t be solo, will it? Being led by a young Lord would be a refreshing change!”
anwhile, Yun So-yu, the Yullyeong Lord, kept her head bowed until the Ipwang Fortress Lord returned to her seat.
Her expression was not one of defeat but rather one of respect—a gesture of courtesy offered to the Fortress Lord.
When she finally raised her head, she turned directly to Jeong Yeon-shin.
“My earlier opposition to your promotion was rash. It must have felt like an insult.”
Her black eyes, steady and deep, t his gaze.
“I apologize. I misjudged you. Truly, I am sorry.”
“Lady So-yu is speaking directly to him. Step back, all of you,” Cheongmyeong said, tugging at his peers with surprising strength. The swordsman of noble lineage, still recovering from injuries sustained on Myunggong Island, was visibly forceful.
Jeong Yeon-shin, jostled by his senior and junior disciples alike, finally lifted his head.
Despite the rowdy air of Ma Gwang-ik, where camaraderie resembled a gust sweeping through a field, discipline reigned. Hands that had playfully ruffled his hair and shoulders quickly withdrew.
For a mont, only the current and forr Lords of Ipwang Fortress stood face to face.
Having signaled her acknowledgnt to Cheongmyeong with a glance, Yun So-yu turned her attention back to Jeong Yeon-shin. Her dark eyes were focused entirely on him.
“As the Yullyeong Lord, I cannot lightly promise to atone for my misjudgnt. You understand the need for balance in my role, I trust.”
“Of course,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied curtly.
At that, Yun So-yu’s long black hair shimred as she lowered her head—a gesture of apology toward him.
“And,” she began slowly, raising her head once more.
“If only my opponent had been a lesser fighter...”
“Hmm...?”
The boy facing the Yullyeong Corps Commander was unusually flustered.
“What you said earlier... I want to understand the aning behind it.”
“…”
Rarely did Jeong Yeon-shin show hesitation, but this mont unsettled him.
―If your opponent were less skilled, it would’ve been more helpful.
The statent wasn’t harshly phrased, but its implications were nearly insulting. When Jeong Yeon-shin had uttered those words in passing, it might have sounded like the lant of a defeated fighter. However, in hindsight, the original aning seed far more deliberate.
After all, the way he had utterly shattered the Commander’s counter-sword techniques had been nothing short of brutal.
This was no small matter.
Jeong Yeon-shin had been carefully managing his reputation to ascend the ranks and claim the title of Shin Geomdanju (Sword Corps Captain). He had been mindful of this since his initiation. But when dealing with soone as prominent as the Executor of the Foundational Law, every move required even greater caution.
Ipwang Fortress was akin to a military faction serving under the fortress lord, who was revered as a king. Any involvent in disgraceful incidents could spell disaster. The Commander was either soone to keep at a great distance or to form a close alliance with.
“This is a real crisis.”
Sweat ford on the back of Jeong Yeon-shin’s neck, a rarity for him. He berated himself. Recklessness had never been his forte. He had been far better at concealing his emotions when he was still at the White Rank.
Why had he beco like this? It felt as though his temperant had shifted after the mission in Sichuan.
Perhaps it was the sight of Ma Jin losing his arm or the weakened state of Ma Yeon-jeok that had shaken him.
“Or maybe it’s because lately, my movents feel off. The slight misalignnt between my sword techniques and the martial forms bothers . That’s why I’m acting out—purely as a martial artist.”
Despite his attempt at introspection, it was not a matter he could address right now.
His instincts whispered to him to tread carefully. The pressure in his upper dantian felt like a blazing fire.
As his sharp gaze scanned the room, his eyes first landed on Tae Yeom-ryong.
That cunning individual excelled at navigating social situations, but only when dealing with life-and-death adversaries.
Around Jeong Yeon-shin, however, Tae Yeom-ryong often resorted to provocations.
"Useless Tae Yeom-ryong," thought the boy, shaking his head slightly before shifting his gaze.
Next, he noticed Namgung Hwa-shin, speaking with his junior, Shin Bin-bin. Shin Bin-bin’s haughty eyes were lowered, as though she feared her admired senior might shift his interest to Ma Gwang-ik. It wasn’t Jeong Yeon-shin’s concern.
“Namgung So-hyeop is straightforward.”
Better than Tae Yeom-ryong, but not soone worth emulating right now.
Then, his gaze landed on Hyeon Won-chang, and Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened.
Clarity burst into his mind as if his experiences were flipping through pages of a well-worn book. His Baihui Point pulsed, and he began to reflect on Hyeon Won-chang’s past actions and words.
This was how Jeong Yeon-shin had always grown—by drawing lessons from the companions around him. It would continue to be that way.
“The Commander’s techniques are so formidable that I was overwheld.”
Jeong Yeon-shin finally spoke, adopting an expression akin to Hyeon Won-chang’s earnest sincerity.
“It was daunting to counter such a dynamic sword style. As a martial artist, I was deeply ashad. It took great courage to clear my thoughts and challenge you again.”
“Hmm…”
Yullyeong Corps Commander Yun So-yu tilted her head slightly.
Her subtle gesture suggested curiosity, but she did not press further. She had no ti to, either.
A sharp chi rang out.
The banquet had begun.
Entertainers returned to the stage, and music flowed harmoniously with a faint golden timbre. A grand general beside the fortress lord’s seat began reciting a list of achievents.
This was the mont to recount Jeong Yeon-shin’s accomplishnts one by one.
The decorative green silk scroll containing these records was impressively long, yet the assembled masters listened intently to the boy’s achievents, showing no signs of boredom.
“…Thus, the destruction of the Dual Blood Spirit Array of the Bloodfla Cult's main base. In a duel against the Namgung Clan, Chang Ryeong-hwaju Namgung Mi was slain in a single exchange, and Namgung Se-jin, the young master, was fatally defeated.”
When the recitation reached the exploits at Myeonggondo, Kiju Branch, and Tang Manor, the atmosphere shifted.
The occasional exclamations of admiration gave way to a profound silence.
Events that had previously been the subject of rampant rumors were now confird with precision by the administrative departnt.
Details of how Jeong Yeon-shin had located Myeonggondo, joined forces with Ma Gwang-ik, and slain Sword Scorpion Devil Dokgo Gwang and Sunmaren’s demonic martial artist unfolded before the audience.
It was extraordinarily detailed.
From the complete annihilation of Sunmaren and Sipjeonmun’s elite at Kiju Branch to securing full cooperation from the previously unpredictable Tang Clan, the achievents painted a vivid picture.
This was a declaration of why Jeong Yeon-shin deserved to ascend to the position of a commander. It left no room for doubt.
“…And so, the na Seomye is inscribed as the seventeenth wielder of the One Sword of Wonpyeong.”
The ceremonial hall fell into absolute silence.
The chief administrator then spoke in a more respectful tone, his gaze directed toward the fortress lord.
“For now, it would be wise for Seomye to share the stone seat with Ma Jin and learn the responsibilities of the Black Rank from him. There are many matters for Ma Jin to teach and pass on.”
“Is there a robe prepared for him?”
Her calm question was t with a swift bow from the administrator.
“My apologies. The outco was too uncertain to prepare in advance…”
“Seomye shall take his place today. Let him borrow Ma Jin’s black robe for the ti being.”
“I shall commission a new robe for him promptly.”
The fortress lord’s serene green eyes swept toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
Those eyes seed to hold the mysteries of the universe, as if they could pierce through his soul.
Under her gaze, Jeong Yeon-shin straightened his posture.
She slowly parted her lips.
“I hereby command you.”
It was the first ti the word "command" had been uttered.
Draped in tattered and faded blue robes, Jeong Yeon-shin knelt on one knee, bowing his head. The worn fabric fluttered faintly before settling.
The fortress lord’s lips curved into a small, graceful smile.
“From now on, act as the master of Ma Gwang-ik.”
“…Ma Gwang-ik accepts the command.”
The boy responded.
Reviews
All reviews (0)