“Huh…?”
The figure lying atop the roof tiles, Tae Yeom-ryong, stirred imdiately. After raising an eyebrow briefly, he rose to his feet without even using his hands for support.
Using only his legs and waist, he lifted his torso off the ground, as if reversing the logic of gravity itself. In the blink of an eye, he was upright—a testant to his mastery of advanced body techniques.
Swish.
Two streaks of shadowy figures descended nearby. They moved like phantoms, the result of honed stealth techniques. Their dark, billowing robes revealed their identities: Ipwang Divine Spear Ak Su-rim and Yullyeong Commander Yun So-yu.
Ak Su-rim furrowed her brow slightly, directing her gaze toward the distance.
Placing both hands on her hips, she looked down beneath the roof. There stood Shin-blooded Demon Jin Myeong-jo, motionless near the grand martial arena.
As always, his head was tilted slightly downward, showing no sign of ascending to join them.
“What’s with you? A junior might have achieved a breakthrough, and yet you’re not rushing to protect him?”
“I intend to scout the periter, so pay it no mind. Three commanders focusing on one direction is an inefficient use of our strength. It’s not a wise strategy.”
“Well, that’s technically true…”
Trailing off, Ak Su-rim gestured toward Tae Yeom-ryong with her eyes.
“Hey, child of the Hwangbo family.”
“…What do you need?”
He answered while gazing down at the radiant streams of energy below. The waves of light bore a resemblance to the techniques of the Radiant Sword Style, yet they were distinctly different.
The beams that were now shooting upward glowed with a deeper intensity. Piercing through the corners of the pavilion, they faded like mist, creating an otherworldly sight.
Ak Su-rim didn’t comnt on his perceived impoliteness. Tae Yeom-ryong’s focus, though elsewhere, was ultimately on Jeong Yeon-shin within the pavilion.
Nothing else mattered. Protecting Seomye was the priority.
She finally spoke.
“How long has he been like this? Our Seomye.”
“About nine days, I’d say.”
“A closed-door retreat, then. It’s only proper that the commander replies to my inquiries. How’s his diet?”
“We’ve been delivering als at the appropriate tis. After all, he’s still growing, isn’t he?”
“It’s not so useless thing like a fasting pill, is it?”
“How would he refine himself on such things? He’s no Daoist hermit—he’s in his pri growth period.”
“Not like my subordinates at all, huh? You’re taking good care of the commander, Ma Gwang-ik.”
Swish.
Ak Su-rim extended her hand downward, toward the energy waves emanating through the gaps in the roof tiles.
The ends of her ebony sleeve shimred with white light, dispersing like morning mist.
A faint smile curled on her lips.
“This is a peculiar energy flow. Its individuality is striking. Unlike typical energy types or martial projections, it lingers in the air as dense power after dispersing. It’s not re energy circulation but an explosive outflow technique. There’s no need for anyone to stand guard.”
Her voice trailed off as she mumbled to herself, then raised her head.
“You’re not really standing guard, are you? You just didn’t want to disrupt Seomye’s imrsion. Hardly fitting for the heir of the Hwangbo family. Weren’t you parading around as royalty back in Jinan?”
“Quite the accusation. This is still protection, I’ll have you know.”
Tae Yeom-ryong answered curtly, evidently irked by her remark.
His deanor, previously polite, evaporated. He now leaned casually to one side, standing in a way that seed almost instinctive.
Ak Su-rim didn’t assign much weight to the change.
“And what’s that one doing?”
She gestured to a corner of the roof, where the slope gently tapered off.
There was a nearly imperceptible presence clinging to the underside of the eaves. It was Heon Won-chang, hanging upside down like a cicada.
From Ak Su-rim’s vantage point, he was invisible, his body pressed flat against the wooden beams. She tilted her head slightly.
“He’s mastered the assassin’s art, that much is clear. Is he planning to assassinate his commander?”
“It’s the opposite, really. Overly dramatic, if you ask .”
“Standing guard, you say? Why on the rafters?”
“Recent rumors, you see. Several pavilions in Ipwang Fortress had their roofs obliterated in the last few days. He figured an attack might co from above and plans to counter it. Though, if the roof collapses under him, that’ll be another matter entirely.”
“…”
Without another word, Ak Su-rim leapt gracefully to the ground.
Rustle.
Her landing was light and soundless, a single leap placing her in the center of the grand martial arena. The hallmark of a supre martial artist.
Not even dust stirred. She had landed atop sparse patches of grass, their tips unmoving under her leather shoes. This was the realm of so sang bi—walking on grass without disturbing it.
Yun So-yu followed suit, descending with equal grace. Her silence was absolute, owed to her mastery of the noble stealth techniques of the Yullyeong Unit.
Her composure and martial poise were striking, as was her modest yet elegant attire.
“I’ll be taking my leave.”
She spoke evenly.
Ak Su-rim glanced at Yun So-yu’s profile with a teasing smile.
“Weren’t you hoping to learn how to easily counter techniques? That’s quite important to the Yullyeong Unit.”
“I plan to return tomorrow at noon. If I demonstrate sincerity to the new commander, I might finally be granted an audience. Three attempts to visit might at least earn a conversation.”
With that, Yun So-yu turned on her heel.
Step.
As her figure receded into the distance, Ak Su-rim shifted her gaze. Jin Myeong-jo, the Shin-blooded Demon, stood upright and still. The aura surrounding him radiated dignity as he exchanged words with two warriors from the Bloodblade Guards—Pung Ran and Na Il-cheon.
‘A man with unfathomable depths.’
Ak Su-rim mused to herself.
Jin Myeong-jo was enigmatic. His pale complexion and inscrutable expression were the least of it. He seldom participated in official events like the black-clad sparring matches of Ipwang Fortress.
While he concealed his intentions well, he had racked up remarkable accomplishnts against unorthodox sects. Yet, judging by his aura, these weren’t feats achieved through pure martial prowess alone.
Beyond the fad Seom-hyeol Projection Technique, he seed to harbor another, more perilous skill. Sothing even darker than the thods of the shadowed martial artists he fought.
Even now, his icy tone as he questioned his forr subordinates exuded a chilling sharpness.
“You an to tell your techniques were never reviewed?”
Pung Ran and Na Il-cheon’s pale faces turned even whiter. The Bloodblade Guards were likened to a military unit, yet their deanors were far from the caliber expected of elite warriors.
It had only been a few days since they arrived under Ma Gwang-ik’s command, and their dispositions still reflected their old affiliations.
“Lord Ma Gwang-ik must have been preoccupied.”
“There’s no bla in that. Black ranks are always busy.”
“You fools. Your energy flows are riddled with gaps. The flow of your energy is severed in places—typical of those who attempt to master unfamiliar techniques by relying solely on manuals. You’re neither here nor there. It’s pathetic.”
Jin Myeong-jo’s words were cutting.
For soone of his rank within the Divine Sword Corps, it was natural to express disappointnt when his subordinates underperford. His wrath was neither unwarranted nor unexpected.
‘How infuriating.’
Jin Myeong-jo thought bitterly, recalling the letter he had sent to Jeong Yeon-shin—a letter written in frustration and nearly accompanied by tears.
The new Ma Gwang-ik should not have treated Pung Ran and Na Il-cheon this way. It was an excessive dereliction of duty.
He glanced at Ma Gwang-ik’s pavilion, pondering an excuse to retreat should the door open.
The surrounding martial artists perceived his critique differently.
To them, his question had been a challenge: Could they execute three successive moves in a single breath?
For martial artists of their caliber, it was no small feat.
Step.
Pung Ran, a woman with a thinly curved blade strapped to her back, stepped forward.
Her moniker was the Bloodblade Phantom. She had mastered the Seom-hyeol Chaotic Blade Technique, the hallmark of the Bloodblade Guards.
Swift, relentless chained strikes were its defining trait. Among her peers, few could rival her skill in combat.
“I’ve made progress,” she said calmly. “The speed of my advancent has rely slowed.”
The grand martial arena grew quiet. All attention turned to her as the Bloodblade Phantom’s fury beca palpable. In an instant, she commanded the crowd’s focus.
Her resemblance to Jin Myeong-jo was uncanny. Her alabaster skin and sharp jawline resembled a blade. Yet, as her hand moved to the hilt of the blade on her back, her motion was unhurried, exuding a dangerous grace.
Unsteady ripples of energy were already surging irregularly, slicing sharply through the air. There was an eerie resemblance to the Bloodblade Phantom's ominous style.
Swish!
The sound of her unsheathing her blade marked the start of a lethal dance.
The martial art she had mastered within the Seomye lineage was Si-geuk-gyeong. Its essence lay in a technique that temporarily amplified strength through concentrated energy.
In simpler terms, she was tasked with proving the might of her blade arts.
Hum!
The Seom-hyeol Chaotic Blade Technique unfurled in a long, sweeping arc. The thin blade split the glow of the setting sun.
The faintly blurred path of the blade exploded into a sharp ripple of energy, creating a deep hum. On her second swing, the air seed to tear apart.
But the third swing was different.
Shing!
The sound diminished. The energy ripples weakened visibly, and the blade, cutting horizontally toward the ground, trembled faintly.
It was the sa barrier faced by Gang Chang-mu and Wi Ye-ryeong earlier. She had failed to sustain her internal energy flow. The energy coursing through her three main ridians faltered by the third second.
The unfamiliar path of the Seomye technique emphasized sensory perception, presenting clear limitations. Her near-self-taught training exacerbated the issue.
She had yet to surpass the martial arts she had long mastered.
This was a solvable issue with continued training. However, martial artists of Ipwang Fortress rarely had the luxury of "later."
For warriors at the Blue Rank, their skills were expected to be combat-ready at all tis. To be incomplete was one of the gravest shas.
Standing in the grand martial arena bathed in twilight, Pung Ran gripped her lowered blade tightly, biting her lower lip.
“…”
“You’ve regressed,” Jin Myeong-jo remarked coldly.
“It’s not even appropriate to call this antiquated. Your thods of channeling power have grown sloppy…”
“…”
“You should have focused on your original techniques. Seeing this in person, I can’t bla my extraordinary junior. This is simply your inadequacy. You reached for techniques beyond your ans and lost your chain of attacks. What more is there to say? No, it’s not Seomye’s fault. He bestowed a rare and remarkable martial art, and sparrows simply couldn’t keep pace with a dragon.”
His cutting remarks carried a singular aning: abandon the Seomye martial art you’ve learned.
In other words, it wasn’t ant for her to wield.
No one dared to refute him. High-level martial arts beca harder to master the loftier one’s skill level was.
It was akin to trying to dig a deep well with brittle tools. For Blue Ranks, it was even more difficult than for White Ranks.
Only Seomye himself could properly utilize the martial art he had created. This would beco increasingly evident over ti.
Silence hung heavily.
Those watching the Bloodblade Guards awkwardly averted their gazes. Ak Su-rim said nothing, keeping her eyes fixed on the command pavilion.
The light spilling from the gaps in the doors and roof tiles had vanished.
“How do you intend to teach Ma Gwang-gyeol properly?”
“They won’t be able to use it in a direct mission yet. They’ll probably start with small-scale assignnts like other units.”
“We’re in trouble too. If we encounter a force of Plum Blossom Sword Masters in formation, we’ll have no way to handle it. If only we had an appropriate sword technique for collective combat, like the Suncheon Wing…”
Conversations murmured without restraint. In a place crowded with Blue Rank martial artists, even lowering one’s voice clumsily was considered shaful.
The warriors of Ma Gwang-ik comforted themselves in their own way, while also worrying about their shortcomings.
The noisy silence was palpable.
Tae Yeom-ryong had reclined on the roof again, and Heon Won-chang’s presence remained motionless in his perch.
Cheong-myeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, seated against the wall of the grand martial arena, watched the White Rank warriors intently.
It wasn’t until the door to the command pavilion opened that the atmosphere changed.
Thrum.
Ak Su-rim leapt onto the wall, her face lighting up with delight.
Her movent to land on the corner of the wall was instantaneous, her black pant leg briefly kicking up a puff of dust.
“Our Seomye! What’s kept you locked away all this ti? You’re not upset because I called you a monster, are you?”
“Briefly.”
The reply ca in a short, slightly hoarse voice.
Step.
Before the Ma Gwang-ik warriors could fully scale the wall, their commander stepped through the air, descending like the wind.
He landed silently in the center of the grand martial arena, his movents as fluid as an illusion. Only the flutter of his dark robes marked his descent. It was the step technique Pungshin.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s form was revealed.
He wore the sa black long coat, baring his left arm. His jet-black hair, now reaching just past his shoulders, glistened in the sunset’s glow.
“Commander! Have you achieved success?”
“We’ve been waiting for so long! You never appeared at the martial arena, but it seems you’ve grown even stronger.”
The warriors crowded around him, their joy evident, but Jin Myeong-jo alone stepped back quietly, his retreat unnoticed.
The mbers of Ma Gwang-ik, both old and new, gathered around Jeong Yeon-shin. Their numbers approached thirty. The crisp winter air quickly ward as they surrounded him.
“You’re a beloved commander. Hey, Seomye! We…”
Ak Su-rim began to call out with a grin when the warriors stepped back abruptly.
The distance between them widened as Jeong Yeon-shin slightly parted his lips.
A circle ford.
Swish.
The commander’s feet touched the ground naturally.
His first movent was a straight punch.
It wasn’t fast. It extended smoothly and with precision. Energy radiated outward from his shoulders like snowflakes scattering in the air.
A portion of the energy concentrated in his legs surged into his fist. The overlapping energy grew denser.
Though his overall aura wasn’t overpowering, his punch exploded at its peak.
Boom!
The air tore apart audibly, resembling but distinct from the Stonewall Wave of the Ultimate Polar Flower Fist.
His steps, in harmony with the rotational flow of Hwanikbo, extended outward with fluidity akin to water. A powerful shockwave rippled outward.
The second movent followed. A subtle hand motion twisted the air into a vortex.
Energy spiraled as his palm unleashed waves of concentrated power.
Thud! Boom!
With each strike, the rippling energy grew more tangible. Sunlight scattered across the waves, refracting into white glimrs.
Faint bursts of white light erupted from his black-clad figure, carrying a sharp, almost divine intensity.
“Is that…?”
Even as soone murmured in awe, Jeong Yeon-shin’s sequence continued. His third punch unleashed a dazzling light, scattering the remnants of the Flaflow Impact from Ultimate Polar Flower Fist.
Click.
The soft sound of his waist sheath echoed as his hand drew the Northern Bright Sword.
The blade, pristine and frosted, emitted a chill that filled the air. Its translucent sheen spread through the arena, accompanied by an unbroken silence.
With a single swing, the sword moved.
Hum.
Jeong Yeon-shin perford a sword dance. Trails of light scattered in countless streaks.
The glowing paths lingered briefly before fading, only to be replaced by new trails.
In the twilight, his movents seed to summon the dawn. His right arm guided the sword, his black sleeve rippling like a banner.
As the energy waves thickened, the glow surrounding his body intensified, wrapping him in an aura like shimring heat.
The power that cleaved the air surpassed what any initial burst of energy could achieve. His movents were underpinned by Si-geuk-gyeong.
The techniques of Ultimate Polar Flower Fist, Hwanikbo, and Radiant Sword Style seamlessly intertwined into a single dance. Everyone present, masters in their own right, recognized it instantly.
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