“Yes. I have a good feel for the wind.”

The man smiled. His eyes were even bluer than his headscarf.

“Even a ten-year-old practicing Three Powers Swordsmanship raises a wind with his blade. I can tell how someone swings a sword, and with what feeling. Here in the Radiant Demon Squad, a friend named Baek Miryeo has a wonderfully inventive sword. Make sure you get some instruction. Very intuitive.”

“I will.”

Jung Yeonshin asked no further questions.

As he circulated his core energy where he stood, the hem of his robes began to flutter faintly. The Movement Art took effect throughout his body, and a new light entered the eyes of the Radiant Demon Squad warriors watching him with interest.

“My name is Chung Myung. I was born and raised here in Xiangyang.”

“Jung Yeonshin, from Xinye.”

“Ah. So there’s a place by that name.”

Chung Myung smiled lightly. His bearing was as clear and bright as his name suggested. Jung Yeonshin reached for the sword issued to him by the Desolate Fortress.

The Desolate Sword. It was a superior weapon, beyond comparison with the family’s iron sword he had used before. Its sword resonance had rung so clear and loud that Heon Wonchang had rushed in from the next room.

‘Rumor has it there’s a forge here run by the short iron race.’

If the rumors were true, it was only natural that even the standard-issue swords should be this fine. Unlike the noble race, famed for their beauty and strength, little was known about the iron race. Their skill at the forge, however, was said to be unrivaled.

“I’m coming.”

“Go ahead. I hear your swift sword is exceptional. Let’s see it.”

“Very well.”

The vibration he had grown familiar with over the past week rose from his hand around the hilt.

Before Chung Myung drew his sword, Jung Yeonshin saw the armor-like calluses on both his hands. The firm, lean muscles showing between his sleeves and his upright posture attested to formidable martial prowess. Gone was his earlier easygoing manner. His gaze seemed to pierce straight into Yeonshin’s mind, almost overwhelming him.

‘Never mind that. I’m here to show what I can do.’

He erased it all. Within his energy detection, Jung Yeonshin left only Chung Myung’s breathing. An inhalation, then a very slow exhalation.

‘Now.’

The core energy meant for his left foot flowed to the other side, layering upon itself. A heavy thud rang out. With a single leap powered by the Classic of Initiating Transcendence through his right foot, Chung Myung’s upper body loomed close enough to fill his vision.

Shattering the floor beneath his foot, he drew the Desolate Sword. Five paces of distance were cleaved away with that single flashing draw.

He explosively released his tightly contracted muscles and internal power, following through with a strike of the Swift Sword Formula. A sound like swimming through a typhoon battered his ears like a drumbeat, and a thrill tingled through his lower abdomen.

Attaining sword resonance had changed him once again. He could feel it fully.

CRASH!

His blade collided with sword force almost beyond his ability to withstand. He had gone in after spotting an opening at Chung Myung’s flank, only for his vision to shake abruptly white. As his body was flung backward, a tremendous shock traveled through his grip to his elbow.

He had no idea when Chung Myung had raised his sword.

‘Still, compared to what I expected...’

Just before he could be sent flying, he concentrated core energy in the Liangqiu, Xuehai, and Xiyangguan points around his right knee. As the calf muscles on either side of his knee writhed like those of a beast, his right foot drove into the training ground floor. At the same time, he detonated core energy from the Yongquan point at his heel.

CRUNCH! WHOOSH!

‘I can handle this.’

His body pivoted half a turn around his right foot. Instead, he had secured Chung Myung’s blind spot from behind. The Desolate Sword swept a semicircle with his body, its trajectory ending at the trapezius at the back of Chung Myung’s neck.

Following the sound of air being sliced like a curtain, Chung Myung’s entire body suddenly rippled in a pulse. His figure seemed to blur, and an instant later Yeonshin’s vision flashed white again.

Chung Myung’s sword had drawn close.

SWISH!

‘Silk-Reeling Force. A full rotation.’

He had not realized it by sight. The sword humming in his grasp sensed the texture of the air for him. The inspiration he had found in Chung Myung’s words about feeling the wind was, at this very moment, advancing his Body-Sword Unification.

CLANG!

With a sound like a gong being struck, force imbued with core energy scattered in every direction, tearing his robes in places. His arm was thrown high. The clash of power was so tremendous that he marveled at himself for not losing his sword.

WHOOSH!

He dropped his body backward as though lying down. It was the Iron Plank Bridge maneuver. His right foot, anchored in the floor, made it easy to execute.

A gleaming white blade skimmed perilously past the tip of his nose. The sight of hairs being severed before they could fall out of its path sent a chill through him.

Jung Yeonshin pulled his foot free of the floor and kicked upward. Expecting his opponent to evade the empty kick, he flipped through the air and landed. He immediately lowered his sword and fixed Chung Myung with a clear gaze.

He had felt something catch on the tip of his rising foot. Chung Myung’s headscarf was gone.

‘A member of the noble race, as I thought.’

Ears as pointed as sword tips and golden hair were not features a Han person could possess. Having seen the noble race often lately, Jung Yeonshin thought little of it and adjusted his grip.

‘Next, I’ll channel the Classic of Initiating Transcendence through the Desolate Sword... Hm?’

Utterly absorbed until now, he suddenly realized that silence filled the training ground. Even Chung Myung, such a frightening opponent, was staring at him in bewilderment. At some point, everyone present had begun regarding Jung Yeonshin with astonishment.

At any rate, Chung Myung’s identity did not seem to be a secret.

“...”

He did not understand why, but he could tell this was no atmosphere in which to continue sparring. As though he had not just been wielding it with abandon, Jung Yeonshin carefully sheathed his new sword. Then curiosity struck him.

“How was I? You said you were going to assess my talent.”

“...”

“I know you let me last a few more exchanges. Please be honest.”

“Uh...”

Not only the Radiant Demon Squad experts who had faced the Plum Blossom Swordsmen, but even Chung Myung, who had crossed swords with the Namgoong First Sword, seemed to have forgotten how to speak. They merely stared at Jung Yeonshin. Only after a moment did Ma Jin speak, his scar twisting.

“You. How old did you say you were?”

“Fifteen. Does that matter? Enemies don’t make allowances for age. All that matters is what I can do now.”

Jung Yeonshin answered with a frown. What use was fussing over his age when he might die young?

But no one seemed to have heard the latter part of his answer. Starting with Chung Myung, who abruptly tossed aside the sword said to be a warrior’s very life, the Radiant Demon Squad warriors began slumping about and offering their comments.

It was an unbelievable display of laxity.

“That’s a freak.”

“No. A mistake on Heaven’s part would be more accurate.”

“I’ve even been to the Dragon-Phoenix Summit, and I’ve never seen anything like that. Even if he’d practiced the Way of Perception from birth, he shouldn’t be like that.”

“In my city, I was a peerless prodigy.”

“Peerless, my ass.”

Without bothering to silence them, Ma Jin beckoned to Heon Wonchang.

“Next. Heon Wonchang. You said you were from Shanxi.”

“M-me? Now?”

“Take your position. I’ll assess you.”

Not one of the Radiant Demon Squad paid close attention to the woeful-faced Heon Wonchang’s sparring match. Only Jung Yeonshin, now his peer, watched closely to see if there was anything he could learn and make his own.

* * *

“The radiant demon arts are a martial art that makes no distinction between weapons.”

Ma Jin, who happened to have returned from a mission a few days earlier, began teaching them at once. Missions to the far reaches of the vast Central Plains often lasted several months without difficulty, he explained, so they were guaranteed at least a month or so of rest upon returning.

Together with Heon Wonchang, Jung Yeonshin began learning the Desolate Fortress’s radiant demon arts. For him, it was the first time in his life he had been properly taught an ultimate technique.

“Swords, sabers, spears, fists, palms. Hands, feet, axes, staves, whips. And countless other unconventional weapons. The radiant demon arts exclude nothing—provided you learn them properly.”

“How is that possible? If so, sword sects would have no need to bother studying the sword.”

Heon Wonchang asked with a blue, swollen eyelid.

When teaching in words, at least, Ma Jin answered every question gently, like the most broad-minded teacher under heaven.

“It is different in nature. The radiant demon arts teach you how to use your body. They are the sum of every consideration of what human hands and feet can do. Apart from archery, they encompass everything from close-range unarmed combat to spear fighting at medium and long range.”

He added,

“And that makes them shallow. Heon Wonchang, as you say, they cannot compare in depth of swordsmanship to a sword sect devoted entirely to the blade. But we are not Wudang Taoists, clutching a single ancient pine-patterned sword and twirling it about alone in pursuit of ascending to immortality.”

‘So that’s one way to describe Wudang’s Tai Chi Sword.’

Jung Yeonshin listened, thinking it was a sword art he would like to witness someday.

“Martial combat at the Desolate Fortress is always fierce battle. Even on a solo mission, assume you’ll be fighting a melee. A fight is a collection of variables! Will you insist on using your sword even after a misstep ruins your stance? Learn the radiant demon arts, and you won’t hesitate to discard your blade at that instant. The caliber of your choices changes, and often that keeps you alive.”

Ma Jin glanced at Jung Yeonshin. He seemed to be thinking of the kick that had sent Chung Myung’s headscarf flying. Yeonshin, on the other hand, recalled Chung Myung flinging his sword away as soon as their match ended.

“Oh... I see.”

The Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior, already won over, voiced his admiration. Ma Jin’s eyes took on an odd light as he glanced at him sitting upright beside Jung Yeonshin.

“But for that very reason, the radiant demon arts demand an innate aptitude for application and insight. If you lack those two things, you must work hard enough to forcibly engrave the art into your body. But don’t worry.”

He continued, lifting the scar beneath his mouth.

“Helping with that is what I and the Radiant Demon Squad are here for. Passing the desolate fortress trial is itself proof of your aptitude. Keep up with us, and you’ll be able to join us on our next mission.”

And so Heon Wonchang’s ordeal began.

* * *

“Uuugh...”

The next day, something resembling a corpse stood motionless on the Radiant Demon Squad’s training ground.

Apparently, engraving it into the body had been no exaggeration. Ma Jin had taught them the formula of the radiant demon arts, then demonstrated his mastery through sparring as fierce as actual combat. On Heon Wonchang’s body.

“My unarmed radiant demon arts are precise. I know you can move. You deserve praise for not collapsing, at least. Review what happened and turn it into progress.”

Having addressed Heon Wonchang indifferently, Ma Jin turned to Jung Yeonshin. Compared to Wonchang, he looked perfectly fine, as though nothing had happened to him. The jet-black Desolate Sword hung at his waist, and his white martial robes fluttered in the wind. Despite his still-youthful looks, his bearing already belonged to a warrior of the Desolate Fortress.

“You’re finished. Have you grasped the essence of the formula?”

“Adaptability without obstruction.”

“... Correct. Whatever the situation, there is always some way for the body to move. The true principle of the radiant demon arts is an unbroken flow of movements, continuing without hindrance. Insight, creativity, application. If you fully understand the formula, you must now grasp the profound meaning of a combat sequence.”

“The profound meaning of a combat sequence?”

“No amount of talk will match seeing it once.”

Ma Jin stood before a brick tower at one side of the training ground. Members of the Desolate Fortress very rarely cut timber for use. Out of consideration for their noble-race fortress master, everything from the halls onward was built of stone. Setting up something like a training log was unthinkable.

“Watch.”

For an instant, a powerful presence settled over Ma Jin’s body. Then it abruptly vanished again. He seemed to be showing that he had completely relaxed his strength. Just like that, he extended a straight punch, his heavily callused fist striking one face of the tower.

THUD!

There was no telling how thoroughly he had conditioned his skin through external training to produce such an unhesitating, heavy impact. At the same instant, the brick tower came tumbling down.

“The ideal moment and the finest strike. A combat sequence is the trajectory that traces them. Follow a perfect sequence, and you produce a supreme strike. You might call this the domain of an eye technique, but the principle I wish to teach is different. An eye technique observes an opponent’s attacks. The sequence you trace, however, already begins in the realm of instinct. There’s no question of observing your own attack.”

Without even dusting off his hand, Ma Jin turned to Jung Yeonshin. Gazing at the tower’s remains, Yeonshin thought,

‘That looks like a lot of work for the servants.’

After briefly wondering how much the Desolate Fortress paid its servants, he promptly shook off the distraction.

‘It’s about using the body at just the right time.’

He meant to identify when and where to release one’s power. Grasping the profound principle in an instant, Jung Yeonshin loosened his hands.

“This is a matter of practice. Seeing it once won’t let you do anything with it. The more you train, the more instinctively you find the ideal sequence. It is a task you must work on for the rest of your life.”

“Is that so...?”

That did not seem right, Jung Yeonshin thought. Already, inspiration reaching even further had begun summoning flashes of lightning that blazed through his mind.

‘I think I could do this differently. Even right now...’

A sky-blue radiance flashed through Jung Yeonshin’s eyes, and his hand rose slightly.