“Is the Lord sensing the will of the spirit creature?”
Wi Ye-ryeong murmured, her expression tinged with curiosity as she gazed down from the roof. Below, Jeong Yeon-shin stood in the great training grounds, gently stroking the back of a white swallow.
The stark contrast between his jet-black robes and even darker hair against the bird’s pristine white feathers created an almost otherworldly scene.
For the new Lord of Ma Gwang-ik Province to command the spirit creature, a symbol of authority among the Lords, was both harmonious and strange in its impression.
Even the rare smile gracing his lips seed imbued with mystery. At least, that’s how it felt to Wi Ye-ryeong.
“There’s no trace of our clan’s influence, so could it be…? Perhaps the Fortress Lord is…”
A flicker of uncertainty and suspicion crossed her striking blue eyes, disappearing as swiftly as it had appeared.
“Could the treasure of our tree have been entrusted to soone outside our clan? There’s no way our people would ever permit such a thing.”
The thought was unthinkable. Such a matter would be of utmost importance—utterly intolerable. Even a direct disciple of the Fortress Lord, no matter their status within the royal family, wouldn’t suffice.
Unless an extraordinary event were to occur—or unless Ma Gwang-ik Province’s new Lord achieved a standing equal to that of their clan.
Wi Ye-ryeong shook her head ever so slightly, her thoughts lingering when Gang Chang-mu, perched on another edge of the roof, spoke in his usual nonchalant tone.
“Communicating with a spirit creature isn’t unheard of, even among the White Ranks of the Noble Clans. Our Lord is leagues above them. Anything is possible. It’s hardly a stretch to imagine he has a trump card or two hidden up his sleeve. Lords of this caliber have always been enigmatic. Take the internal energy of our previous Lord, for example…”
Gang Chang-mu hailed from the Celestial Forest Division, where his forr Lord had been none other than Hahoe Wi-jin, the Celestial Dragon of Divine Strength.
“By sheer energy reserves alone, it’s said he could rival the Violet Rank. When you’re Black Rank, possessing a few exceptional abilities cos with the territory. And considering our Lord reached this rank at the youngest age ever, how much more extraordinary must he be?”
“That’s not what I was referring to,” Wi Ye-ryeong interjected, her tone sharp.
“Is this the most celebrated Blue Rank in Ma Gwang-ik Province showing off? I thought the only ones obsessed with clan superiority were those shadowy bastards from the Dark Night Hall among the Thirteen Heavens.”
Gang Chang-mu’s deep voice carried a teasing edge as he glanced at her, his words not entirely wrong.
It was true that Wi Ye-ryeong had garnered considerable attention within Ma Gwang-ik Province. An archer of her caliber was a rarity, and a skilled Noble Clan practitioner even more so.
The Ma Gwang Formation specialized in close-combat martial arts, leaving a gap in mid-to-long-range combatants.
That had been the case until Wi Ye-ryeong’s arrival. The Archer of the Crescent Moon was a martial artist who had struck down Jeomchang Sect’s fad Sun Piercing Sword Technique with a single arrow.
As a distinguished mber of a noble clan, she was tasked with securing the flanks of Ma Gwang-ik’s combat formations. Among the middle-ranking newcors, she had quickly beco the center of attention for the warriors of Ma Gwang-ik Province.
“Arrogant bastards, all of them,” Wi Ye-ryeong muttered, her brows knitting together as she frowned—a rare display of emotion.
“The Celestial Forest Lord is also of a Noble Clan. Are you ignorant of our clan’s taboos? Don’t speak so carelessly again, nor make such comparisons.”
“Understood,” Gang Chang-mu replied, shrugging his broad shoulders as he peered below.
On the training grounds, the white swallow—Baek Yeon—was perched at Jeong Yeon-shin’s feet as he retrieved a letter tied to its leg. After scanning its contents, he turned and began to leave the great training hall.
***
“Damn it! Damn it all!”
A group of fifty high-ranking martial artists sprinted across the barren terrain. Though their steps pounded the dry ground with imnse force, not a speck of dust rose in their wake.
At the head of the group were two figures clad in the black robes of Ipwang Fortress.
The contrast between the burly man and the lithe woman was stark, yet the oppressive aura they emanated placed them on equal footing.
Hahoe Wi-jin crushed the letter in his hand, muttering curses under his breath. Despite his seething anger, his footwork remained as light and fluid as a gentle breeze.
This ease was thanks to the advice of an exceptional junior, who had recently helped him correct his internal energy flow.
“They say he uses so strange sorcery, and it’s incredibly powerful. The exiled Mo Mountain Taoists surrendered before they even had a chance to establish themselves in Xinjiang. Hell, he might’ve had a hand in capturing Suncheon Ik. Damn it all!”
His words were sharp and biting, spat out like venom.
Beside him, Cheon So-so’s long black hair swayed in the wind created by their movent. Even against the gusts generated by their rapid advance, her hair retained a striking luster, much like Hahoe Wi-jin’s own.
“I heard the young leader of the Bright Sect is around the sa age as Ma Gwang-ik Province’s new Lord. Both are said to be grandmasters of sorcery.”
Her calm voice, infused with martial energy, pierced through the rushing wind with clarity.
“If circumstances and fortune align, it wouldn’t be surprising if he led his followers to rout an entire combat division.”
Her words were asured and deliberate, but Hahoe Wi-jin shook his head.
“Do you think Ha Do-un fell to him?”
“It’s been far too long since we’ve had any communication from Suncheon Ik. Whatever happened, we’ll have to accept it.”
“…They might’ve set up a formation. Or used so vile sorcery.”
Black-ranked masters were the kind who spoke of the world at large.
They had departed as soon as the eting at Wonpyeong Ilgeomjang ended, without even catching a glimpse of the much-anticipated annotated version of Pa-Baek Chongram.
Their mission was clear: to claim the head of the Demonic Outsider Leader. The martial orthodoxy’s thod of countering his techniques wasn’t imdiately necessary, and the Grand Commander had sent them out without hesitation.
Hahoe Wi-jin recalled the smug face of Im Jin-myeong, the Grand Commander, complete with his irritatingly smooth beard, and gritted his teeth.
“That bastard. Younger than , and yet so damn arrogant.”
“If we concern ourselves with divisions, the Fortress would crumble.”
Cheon So-so responded indifferently.
“And I heard you pulled so petty stunt on a junior recruit.”
“A junior? You an Seomye?”
The na slipped out imdiately.
If there was any junior worth ntioning among the Lords, it could only be the newly appointed Ma Gwang-ik Lord, a Black-Rank prodigy celebrated at Wonpyeong Ilgeomjang for being the youngest to reach such heights.
Hahoe Wi-jin’s lips curled into a broad grin.
“It wasn’t a petty stunt. I simply pointed out the truth. He dared to hold Pa-Baek Chongram hostage. His attitude matched his talents and rank, but it was necessary to remind him of his arrogance at least once. Facts are facts, after all.”
“Ma Gwang-ik Lord has a connection to Cheongmyeong,” she murmured, her lips moving almost imperceptibly.
“I heard the story. Ma Gwang-ik Lord didn’t know we’d need the annotations. He handed it over with good intentions, but we mishandled the situation, and it upset him.”
“What?”
“At his age, with his level of talent, perhaps he’s just accustod to relying on himself.”
Her tone was flat, but her words tugged at Hahoe Wi-jin’s mory.
—I didn’t consider it. It’s just basic groundwork, isn’t it? There’s hardly any room for annotations. In real combat, you’d just use what feels right in the mont…
It had been an honest explanation. Unbelievable, yet sohow convincing.
Cheon So-so spoke again.
“Basic groundwork… It was the truth for him as a junior. But you misunderstood, and you…”
“RAAAAAHHH!”
Before she could finish, a deafening roar tore through the air, reverberating across the ground. It was almost akin to a lion’s roar, but infused with powerful martial energy.
The shockwave erupted from Hahoe Wi-jin, his frustration ripping through the atmosphere, affecting even those at the rear of their formation.
The sleeping bags strapped to the backs of the Celestial Forest warriors shifted violently, as if kicked by an invisible force.
The Celestial Forest Division and Seonmok Commanders were en route to confront the worst faction of the Thirteen Heavens entrenched in Xinjiang.
For the two Lords, their mission was clear. Success was non-negotiable.
***
While Ma Gwang-ik imrsed himself in training for the Radiance Technique, the inner fortress of Ipwang Fortress bustled with preparations for a grand event.
Everywhere, stone structures rose, and a sparring stage was erected at the central training ground.
The Promotion Ceremony.
It was an event of imnse significance within the fortress—a stage to evaluate the aptitude of the Lords, a platform to asure the sect’s strength objectively, and an opportunity to reward warriors for their accomplishnts.
It was the pinnacle of honor in Ipwang Fortress.
The commotion reached even the Ma Gwang-ik Pavilion, and for good reason. Hwangbo Clan’s Tae Yeom-ryong had long been a renowned rising star.
He had claid victory at the Yongbong Gathering multiple tis, earning him the title of the strongest young talent in Jinan.
Today, rumors spread that he would attempt a promotion to the Blue Rank while dressed in humble clothing.
His status was absurdly low compared to his achievents.
As a mber of Hwanik Corps under the command of the current Ma Gwang-ik Lord, he had accomplished feats that far surpassed those of an average Blue Rank warrior.
He had taken down several masters from Sipjeonmun and Sunmaren, served as the action captain of Hwanik Corps, and even held off the forces of Simmu-ryeon’s Sword Sovereign during the Murim Alliance gathering in Hanzhong.
Until Ma Gwang-ik Lord arrived to et the Youngcheon Sword Demon, not a single ally had perished under his command. His rits were undeniable.
Naturally, people gathered in anticipation.
“They’ll handle it just fine.”
“So, you’re done pretending to be a senior?”
“We’re nobodies, rember? Young and naless.”
The warriors of Ma Gwang-ik were indifferent. The naless disciples were even more so, their focus scattered as they chewed on poppy seeds or snuck sips of liquor, an act that diminished any goodwill.
Their attention was firmly fixed on the martial techniques created by their Lord.
They gathered frequently at the great training grounds to practice the Radiance Technique, completely engrossed in it—so much so that even the White and Blue Rank masters, as well as the youngest naless disciples, were swept up in it.
“Our Lord went as an official witness, right?”
“Yeah. There’s so much I wanted to ask him.”
“Think Ipwangdalbyeon will finally get a new uniform?”
“Who knows? His skills with a sword are terrifying, but…”
“He still hasn’t broken the restriction, has he? Probably not.”
“Let’s hope for the best.”
Their conversation flowed between jokes and genuine sentints, reflecting the fortress’s attention on Ipwangdalbyeon Hyeon Won-chang.
Yet Tae Yeom-ryong’s looming presence overshadowed all else. Even those who had mastered the new techniques created by the Lord of Ma Gwang-ik couldn’t draw the sa level of attention.
“Our Lord was incredibly patient teaching us, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, he even explained what internal energy really is. I used to think it was just so skill you learned at the village martial hall.”
“Our talents aren’t bad either, you know…”
“Our Lord was like a Buddha. Who would’ve thought he had that side to him?”
“Do that many people know Ma Gwang-ik Lord so well?”
“Of course! We share als and battles like family—wait, who are you?”
A naless disciple turned around, responding instinctively to the unexpected sound of a woman’s voice.
Sshh...
The woman wore a white silk blindfold over her eyes.
Her poised stance and elegant balance radiated an air of dignity. Her jet-black hair cascaded down past her shoulders, shimring as sunlight brushed over it.
The striking contrast between her dark hair and the pure white of her longbow naturally drew all eyes to her.
It was none other than Lady Ye of the Murim Alliance in Hanzhong.
“The Internal Command Officer of the Hanzhong Murim Alliance,” she said, her lips curving into a polite smile.
“I humbly greet the family of Ma Gwang-ik Lord.”
As she glanced around, her serene deanor carried a faint tension, thickening the air.
Even before she stepped onto the training grounds, the seasoned warriors of Ma Gwang-ik were already watching her closely.
Gang Chang-mu was the first to speak.
“...The Internal Command Officer of the Alliance? What business brings you here?”
“I’ve co to request an audience with your Lord. I sent several ssages, but there’s been no reply.”
“This is a place outsiders are not permitted to enter. You’d best leave quickly.”
“Perhaps you should direct that suggestion to the Fortress Lord,” she replied smoothly, her smile unwavering.
The commotion in the training grounds began to quiet, the sound of wind gently carrying the dust into the air.
Thud.
Cheongmyeong, who had been reclining lazily against a wall, stepped down to the ground. The sword hanging at his waist glead with invisible sword energy, bending the sunlight around him.
At that mont, several swordsn of Ma Gwang-ik flared their qi in response.
Fwoosh!
But before anyone could act, a figure clad in blue soared through the air.
Baek Mi-ryeo’s black hair fluttered as she landed gracefully in front of Lady Ye.
Baek Mi-ryeo, one of the few who knew Jeong Yeon-shin’s true thoughts, had heard much from him.
“That blindfold.”
The wielder of the One Lotus Sword slightly tilted her chin.
“Take it off. Now.”
***
The newly appointed Lord of Ma Gwang-ik stood on one side of the sparring stage in the central training ground.
A massive crowd had gathered. Events like this were rare in the monotonous routines of fortress life, and the sheer number of spectators, numbering in the hundreds, created an atmosphere thick with anticipation.
For many, just standing in such a charged environnt would have been exhausting. However, Jeong Yeon-shin was different. He felt no fatigue, despite having handled nurous tasks since his return. His body surged with vitality, a testant to the rigorous discipline of Jeong Ga-donggong and the boundless energy provided by the Luminous thod Wheel Qi. Among the elite martial artists, his stamina was unmatched.
“Next,” he said.
This ca after a duel between two White Rank warriors had concluded. The pair glanced at Ma Gwang-ik Lord before stepping off the stage. Another duo of martial artists soon took their place. Their appearances were equally remarkable.
A man and a woman ascended the stage together, their auras radiating intensity. Their prowess was comparable to Jeong Yeon-shin’s during his days as a White Rank initiate.
This was the Promotion Ceremony of Ipwang Fortress.
For safety and fairness, Black Rank overseers were required to monitor the duels. It was Jeong Yeon-shin’s final mission before departing for Shaanxi. His exceptional perceptiveness had earned him the role, though it was also an opportunity for him to gain experience in the responsibilities of a Black Rank Lord. The decision had been made at his first eting with the other Lords and was already set in motion.
“Begin,” he announced.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s face remained expressionless as he conducted the proceedings.
The Lord of Ma Gwang-ik, Seomye.
Wearing a ticulously pressed black robe with the White Northern Bright Sword at his waist, he exuded an air of authority. Yet, there was a subtle tension in the lines of his mouth—a rare display for him. Nobody dared to approach the sparring stage while he was there.
He paid no attention to this. It wasn’t necessary, nor was it the ti.
‘Hye-ah…’
The news from the Zhongnan Sect weighed heavily on his mind.
―The Seogun Sword Sect and Chuiho Gate have been annihilated. Both were subordinate factions of Zhongnan, based in Xi’an. Reports indicate that the area beneath the mountains where the Taoist halls were located has been completely burned. Survivors of the Zhongnan Sect are unaccounted for.
―There are rumors that Sword Dragon Wei Ji Myo-hwa escaped with a disciple of the Sword Immortal. No further information is available, but that in itself may be good news. If the Blade Specters had captured him, they would have made it public to sever Zhongnan’s legacy. He must be safe.
As the Grand Commander’s words echoed in his thoughts, the duel began.
The contestants were Hui Pung Sword Do Jin and Fist Wave Demon Hahoe Sangan.
The man wore a sturdy belt and carried a sword, while the woman, dressed in dark combat gloves, stood ready. They hailed from the Yullyeong Division and the Myeolseom Corps, respectively.
These two had long been infamous rivals, and their pairing was deliberate. The Grand Commander’s office often tested martial artists' practical skills by orchestrating such matchups.
“I didn’t expect this,” Do Jin said, his sharp gaze fixed on Hahoe Sangan’s clenched fists.
“This is perfect. Let’s settle our grievances here,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk as she slamd her fists together with a resonant thud.
Hahoe Sangan, the golden child of the Hahoe family in Ipwang Fortress, was the niece of Celestial Forest Lord Hahoe Wi-jin. Her family had previously rejected a matchmaker sent by Do Jin’s household.
The martial artists of Ipwang Fortress were a diverse lot, gathered under the banner of stability and order. However, internal conflicts and rivalries were not uncommon.
Do Jin’s lips trembled.
“Grievances, you say? Your family’s humiliation of mine—”
“Let’s be clear. It was you who kept throwing unwanted advances my way, like the unyielding currents of the Yangtze River,” she retorted, raising her eyebrows.
“Begin!”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice cut through their exchange, terse and commanding.
Do Jin flinched slightly, while Hahoe Sangan responded as if following a direct order from her Lord. She imdiately assud her stance, her gloved hands radiating an overwhelming surge of qi.
Boom!
A colorless shockwave exploded from her palm, accompanied by a fierce gust that sent Do Jin flying. Dust scattered into the air as his body landed heavily on the ground. He felt as though his sternum had caved inward.
His breath caught, and the protective qi surrounding his body briefly faltered under the imnse force of her strike.
Hahoe Sangan pressed her advantage with a relentless assault. Her intent was clear—she aid to end the match quickly, with no concern for the aftermath. This aggressive strategy had gained popularity in the fortress following Seomye’s exploits.
Do Jin’s expression hardened. He had anticipated this approach and prepared a counterasure.
He was familiar with the woman’s nature, having once admired her deeply. After years of reflection, he had devised a way to dismantle her techniques.
‘A decisive strike…!’
Ignoring his ragged breathing, he drew upon his internal energy, channeling it through his hands into a precise form.
Boom!
As Hahoe Sangan closed in for a follow-up strike, her eyebrows twitched. Her vision suddenly brightened, and murmurs rippled through the audience.
Do Jin’s sword, raised with both hands, gathered sunlight into an invisible arc of qi.
“Hui Sword Seam!”
Gasps of astonishnt erupted from the spectators.
Do Jin’s family was renowned for their mastery of the sword. His flawless execution of the technique, perfectly tid to counter her advancing footwork, was a testant to their legacy.
For a mont, he seed like a sword-wielding specter, striking with supernatural precision.
‘I should’ve attacked faster! At this range, it’s too late—’
Crash!
Hahoe Sangan’s Bongmaek Fist Technique disintegrated under the force of Do Jin’s strike, the qi structure unraveling completely.
Both combatants were immobilized.
Such occurrences were not rare in duels. Martial artists, reliant on their blades and internal energy, often risked severe injury—or even death—during sparring matches.
Hahoe Sangan, still in her forward stance, couldn’t move. Her body was wracked with pain, the lingering qi of the sword strike threatening to overwhelm her.
At the mont when the shimring, milky-white sword aura seed poised to slice through her collarbone—
Swoosh.
A streak of light passed between them, grazing their hair. Only soone with an acute awareness of killing intent could have perceived it.
Do Jin’s sword abruptly halted. It was caught between two fingers.
Jeong Yeon-shin had silently intervened, his outstretched arm erging from the side of the stage.
His black sleeve hung loosely, swaying as he calmly declared:
“Hahoe Sangan has lost. Hui Pung Sword Do Jin is the winner.”
A faint white glow shimred from his hand, resembling threads of light. It was a manifestation of the Radiance Technique, a yet-unrevealed power.
The precision of his intervention was extraordinary. His hand, glowing as if carved from diamond, showed no trace of blood.
His voice echoed in their ears like a thunderous whisper:
—Step down. You’re causing a commotion.
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