Zhuge Hyeon’s techniques were fascinating.
They were unlike anything Jeong Yeon-shin had experienced before, a ga of movent foreign and unfamiliar. The sensation of a body moving seemingly on its own, guided by an external force, was utterly alien to soone like him, who had always acted alone.
As a child, Jeong Yeon-shin had only watched as his brothers played with other children in the village of Shinyahyeon. He never joined them.
Now, oddly enough, the refined techniques of the Zhuge Clan filled a small part of the solitude he had felt back then. Even to him, it was a strange occurrence.
He rembered envying the swings set up during the Dano Festival, which the villagers used to pray to the land gods for a bountiful harvest. That envy, once vivid, had now dulled into a faint mory.
Back then, he hadn’t even been allowed to approach such things. They claid he would taint the celebration with misfortune.
What he had truly wanted wasn’t the swing itself—it was sothing far simpler.
"I owe Seonryong in more ways than one."
It was Zhuge Hyeon who had provided the breakthrough to unravel the Geomroe Seomreung-shik technique. Compared to Tae Yeom-ryong, Zhuge Hyeon was a true gentleman.
Among the acquaintances Jeong Yeon-shin had made through the Murim Alliance, Zhuge Hyeon was undoubtedly the most valuable connection.
“If you ever visit Hanzhong again, I’ll show you how the Zhuge Clan has changed,” Zhuge Hyeon said.
His younger sister, Zhuge Cheong-ah, had renounced her claim to the clan leadership—a decision quite unlike Ak Ye-rim’s.
Due to her deep focus on ntal arts, which earned her the title Jungsim-an (True Heart’s Eye), her overall martial capabilities had declined.
To act as the head of the family required not only managerial skill but also overwhelming martial prowess. Zhuge Cheong-ah, by herself, couldn’t shoulder both responsibilities.
Thus, the task had fallen to Zhuge Hyeon.
He possessed the qualities of a clan leader, with his innate talent and vision ensuring he would eventually rise to the position.
Zhuge Hyeon’s reputation had always been stellar. It had only failed to et the exacting standards of the Zhuge family head until now. Rumor had it that Rebirth of the Hidden Dragon, a phrase once forbidden within the clan, had resurfaced.
Now, his path to leadership seed secure.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded quietly, having recently received Zhuge Hyeon’s thanks for bearing Zhuge Cheong-ah’s burden.
Inside, all the farewells had concluded. Masters like Cheon Ju-jin, Yu Hyeon, and Tang Unhwang were figures he would undoubtedly encounter again. All that remained was to depart.
“We’ll et again soday,” said a sharp-eyed woman with a cool deanor.
“If you’re ever in Liaodong, where the demonic sects are plenty, stop by my family estate!” said a boy with bright black eyes, his enthusiasm unrestrained.
They were Queen of the Small Sword, Chui So-ok, and Gongsun Min.
Their bond with Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t insignificant. His Sangdanjeon Qi Sense seed to affirm this, brushing faintly against his thoughts like a cool whisper.
Though circumstances hadn’t allowed him to receive Chui So-ok’s Sailgeombeop technique in full, he felt certain that one day, he would broaden his understanding of Jeomchang Sect’s thrust techniques.
It was a reliable instinct, bolstered by the expansion of his Baihui Point with the changing of the seasons.
“Will there co a day when I use this sense in battle?”
The thought passed through his mind, but no answer followed. Jeong Yeon-shin turned away slowly.
Ahead, two figures stood watching a group of Black-ranked disciples.
They were Ak Su-rim and Hahoe Wi-jin, their deanor clearly showing their reluctance to associate with the Murim Alliance.
Jeong Yeon-shin began walking, the hem of his black coat trailing on the ground.
Zhuge Cheong-ah and Lady Ye followed closely behind.
The soft blue and white hems of their robes brushed gently against the ground as they walked. They would accompany him to Ipwang Fortress.
It was a gesture of diplomacy, signaling the Murim Alliance’s intention to foster goodwill with Ipwang.
Zhuge Cheong-ah, however, had a personal reason for her involvent. She had expressed her wish to beco a guest martial artist under Jeong Yeon-shin’s command.
According to Hyeon Won-chang’s observations, she had likely discerned the unique nature of Jeong Yeon-shin’s constitution.
“She must value her life if she’s willingly walking into his territory,” Hyeon Won-chang had remarked dryly.
“Pity?”
There was no trace of malice in Zhuge Cheong-ah’s intentions. Her temperant was pure and transparent, as it had been since she first expressed her wish to join him. Her true motives, however, remained elusive.
If that were the case, her integration would rely on the judgnt of Ipwang Fortress’s central command.
Her expertise in ntal arts would undoubtedly be a significant asset to Ma Gwang-Ik’s forces, especially in navigating complex situations.
“Do not approach the Lord carelessly,” Hyeon Won-chang cautioned.
“He’s right. You two should keep your distance. No need to make things unnecessarily complicated,” Tae Yeom-ryong added as they passed Zhuge Cheong-ah and Lady Ye.
Namgung Hwa-shin silently followed them, taking up a position behind Jeong Yeon-shin.
The slow crunch of soil underfoot accompanied their steps. The escort was impressively well-organized.
Jeong Yeon-shin could feel the gaze of Lady Ye and Zhuge Cheong-ah on his back, as if they were silently observing him.
Their deanor was unlike that of the Sword Saint, who had opted out of a public farewell.
“What I’ve gained from the Murim Alliance is martial knowledge and people.”
The leaves scattered along the roadside cushioned his steps like soft cotton.
In the martial world, fallen leaves were often said to represent the accumulation of fate and ti.
With each mission, the layers of his Baihui Point thickened, along with the weight of his life.
The na Jeong Yeon-shin would endure, even if he failed to claim the fruit of the Heavenly Tree.
“Where will the next mission take ?”
Without looking back, he left the gates of the Murim Alliance behind. It was truly the end.
***
The scene unfolds in the Ipwang Fortress General Bureau, a grand and commanding space. Long, aged desks of zitan wood line the room, their deep crimson shine a testant to their craftsmanship. The air is thick with the scent of ink as scribes diligently pen letters, their presence lending an austere weight rivaling that of martial masters.
At the head of the room, on a raised dais, sits the General Overseer of Ipwang Fortress, Im Jin-myeong. A formidable figure in a brown longcoat, his robust fra and thick black beard radiate an aura of tempered steel. His imposing ki fills the room, dwarfing even the imposing figure of Jin Myeong-jo, the captain of the Bloodguard Division, who stands before him.
Jin Myeong-jo, clad in the stark black robes of a high-level expert, exudes a cold and eerie presence. His pale complexion and sharp features contrast starkly with the faintly malevolent ki that seems to animate his very robes. With a faint smirk, he gestures toward a corner of Im Jin-myeong's desk, where a discarded letter lies.
“That, Overseer, is from the Eastern Bureau, isn’t it? I found it carelessly abandoned and wondered what it might be.”
Im Jin-myeong casts a glance at the letter and then speaks in a deliberate tone, his lips curving into a wry smile.
“Ah, yes. It’s from that eunuch, Myung-yeo. He’s rather upset, apparently. The head of their branch was decapitated early on, leaving them in quite a dire situation. I must admit, even I didn’t anticipate it happening so quickly.”
He chuckles dryly, his amusent evident.
“The eunuch berated , you see, unable to direct his ire at Young Master Jeong himself. The lantations in his script were almost poetic. It’s rather satisfying to see those who once rivaled the lords brought low, don’t you think?”
Jin Myeong-jo tilts his head, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
“I’ve heard of the new Marquis of Magwang, and I was acquainted with the forr commander of the Yunyang Branch. It seems her ambitions were excessive.”
“Indeed,” Im Jin-myeong replies. “Her overreach was bound to lead to her ruin. She simply had the misfortune of crossing paths with Young Master Jeong’s sword.”
Jin Myeong-jo smirks faintly.
“They say he executed her without hesitation.”
“True to form,” Im Jin-myeong affirms, his grin widening. “That boy has always been a natural fit for Ipwang Fortress. His swordsmanship is subli—bold and decisive. It embodies the very virtues of our martial lineage.”
The conversation shifts as Jin Myeong-jo leans forward, his pale eyes narrowing slightly.
“There’s a rumor that the Marquis of Magwang has garnered the favor of the Crown Prince. It’s not entirely baseless, it seems.”
Im Jin-myeong shrugs nonchalantly.
“Who can say? Such matters are beyond us.”
Jin Myeong-jo’s smirk fades as he mutters under his breath,
“I’d rather he didn’t return.”
“Why is that?” Im Jin-myeong asks, curious.
“Our forces in Magwang are depleted,” Jin Myeong-jo explains. “Replenishing them will require sacrifices from all divisions. Even in the Bloodguard, we’ve lost nearly half a dozen masters to this ss. It’s an irritating burden.”
Im Jin-myeong chuckles.
“You’ll have to accept it. Such things are not uncommon.”
Jin Myeong-jo’s expression hardens.
“I dislike the thought of participating in more dueling tournants. I find the notion of gambling subordinates on the outco of spars distasteful.”
“Better that than the alternative,” Im Jin-myeong counters. “Without the tournant system, the military might seize our forces outright. Would you prefer that?”
Jin Myeong-jo sighs, exasperated.
“As if the tournants are any better. They’re glorified wagers, little better than barbaric marriage contests.”
“Yet they serve their purpose,” Im Jin-myeong retorts. “They allow us to test the ttle of new blood and ensure that our ranks remain strong.”
The overseer leans back in his chair, his voice taking on a sly edge.
“Aren’t you curious about the new Marquis of Magwang? They say he’s a master of the Blue River Demon-Slaying Palm, a technique held in awe even among the nobility. It’s quite the feat for soone of common birth.”
Jin Myeong-jo’s lips curl into a sardonic smile.
“Perhaps, though I expect it will end with clashing swords with him. I’d rather avoid the nuisance.”
Im Jin-myeong waves off the complaint with a chuckle.
“Rest assured, the chaos of the world will soon call him elsewhere.”
“Not before I’ve crossed blades with him,” Jin Myeong-jo mutters under his breath, his tone laced with resignation.
Im Jin-myeong, unfazed, begins preparing tea, his smile never fading.
“The clash of masters… It’ll be a spectacle worth watching.”
***
Jeong Yeon-shin had to separate from his three subordinates.
"Seomye, over here."
"It's only right for the rookie to take the lead."
Ak Su-rim and Hahoe Wi-jin called out to the newly appointed Ma Gwang-ik Lord.
These were the Black Rank seniors who had saved Jeong Yeon-shin from the clutches of the Zhuge Clan Leader. He had no choice but to follow them.
As they left behind the accomplished martial artists of Ipwang Fortress's Cheonrimdae, curiosity-filled gazes from the grandmasters followed them.
Their steps aligned as the three of them walked side by side along the wide Guan Road.
Jeong Yeon-shin had to endure Ak Su-rim’s incessant chatter. She tilted her head up, scrutinizing the junior with a sharp glint in her dark eyes, like a flash of black lightning.
Her gaze alone was enough to reveal the overwhelming internal energy she harbored.
"You ntioned the Geomroe Seomreung-shik technique, right? Are there any moves in its composition that don’t have nas? Anything leftover?"
"The final ones were nad by the Sword Saint."
"How many are there?"
"Three sword forms."
"More will appear, won’t they? There’s no way it ends at just three. As you grow in skill, so will the swordsmanship. If the foundation is solid, new forms will naturally erge."
"I have a question."
"Hm? Ask away."
Ak Ye-rim smiled brightly as she replied. Jeong Yeon-shin bowed slightly in acknowledgnt and slowly opened his lips to speak.
His thoughts lingered on the image of his maternal grandfather, lying like a half-dead corpse.
"Does rejuvenation affect the Baihui point?"
"Hm? Why do you ask?"
"My grandfather, after consuming the Dae Hwandan, is likely to experience a resurgence of internal energy... Recently, he’s been learning so remarkable techniques. If fortune favors him, I was wondering if he might achieve the state of youthful purity. But I’m unsure about the unity of essence, energy, and spirit. Does purified energy interfere with the head?"
"Huh?"
"Before Senior Ak regained her youthful appearance, was her manner of speaking similar to what it is now? This question has no deeper context, so I hope you won’t misunderstand."
It was a sincere question.
The current Ipwang Divine Spear carried an air of lightheartedness. She was a supre martial artist who had reversed the flow of ti in her body.
Her appearance was utterly unique. The contrast between her external youthfulness and the aura of her imnse power created a strange and foreign atmosphere.
However, it was unlikely that Ak Su-rim had always carried herself in this manner before her rejuvenation.
Martial artists were a prideful breed who valued dignity and honor above all else.
Even the unorthodox masters of the Demonic Path maintained decorum befitting their status.
Ma Yeon-jeok was Jeong Yeon-shin's only grandfather.
If Jeong Ga-donggong, the Dae Hwandan, and heavenly fortune worked together to turn back ti, that would be enough.
But if he was no longer the sa Ma Yeon-jeok, it might sadden him slightly. That’s why he asked.
Ak Su-rim’s small lips closed tightly.
“Hahaha―!”
"You’re quite a bold one! Saying that to the Ipwang Divine Spear!"
The booming laughter belonged to Hahoe Wi-jin, the Heavenly Power Strength God.
He had been watching the two from above with a stern gaze but couldn’t contain his laughter after seeing Ak Su-rim's reaction.
Was it his imnse build or the seemingly bottomless depth of his internal energy? His loud guffaw thundered like a storm.
"Are you telling her to act her age? For a Han, you’ve got quite the sharp tongue! Seems like you’ve got a knack for provocation too!"
"That’s not true. I don’t know much about provocation either."
Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly.
A sound of choking ca from behind. Even without turning, he could sense the presence clearly.
Tae Yeom-ryong, who had been walking with his hands behind his back, spat out the opium he had been chewing. It ca with a faint chuckle, mingled with a playful exhale. Ma Gwang-ik frowned slightly.
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