“What... Have you mastered some internal art of the Wudang Sect?”

Ma Se-In muttered in bewilderment. The elders standing in a row were profoundly shaken as well. Several actually changed color, nothing like the imposing figures they had been moments before. They looked ready to speak at any moment.

“Closer to Shaolin than Wudang. Though I doubt even they compress their qi that tightly when accumulating it.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon murmured to himself.

“So you are the Supreme Flame Dragon. They do not? Wrong. They cannot. Accumulating qi requires aptitude, too.”

Ma Yeonjeok alone nodded with a smile.

Amid it all, a cool voice rang out.

“Did you yourself speak of rights and demands?”

Ju Yeonjeong spoke sternly. Unlike her son Ma Se-In, her eyes had wavered only once. Her gaze upon Jung Yeonshin was steady and intense. She showed no sign of intimidation, even with a peerless purple-robed master beside her. Surely she knew how fond Ma Yeonjeok was of him.

Sure enough, Ma Yeonjeok thundered at her.

“Who do you think you are interrogating? Stand down.”

“Lightning Genius spoke of the family when he mentioned his rights and demands. That makes this a Ma clan matter. Do you intend to let personal affection bind you into giving this blue-robed expert of the Radiant Demon Squad everything you possess?”

“What did you just say?”

“I ask that you temper your anger and consider my words, Clan Head.”

Ma Yeonjeok and Ju Yeonjeong began to argue. She did not so much as twitch an eyebrow. Only his face reddened with anger.

Ju Yeonjeong seemed to hold a stronger position than Yeonshin had expected. The elders' grave silence, offering neither agreement nor objection, was evidence enough. They said the workings of great houses were no different from the politics of the Forbidden City in Beijing, but this was hard to understand given Ma Yeonjeok's standing. Even if his martial prowess had declined, was he not the former Divine Sword Squad Leader?

“Has your mother shared her family's martial arts with them? Otherwise, this makes no sense.”

Jung Yeonshin made no secret of sending a sound transmission to his distant cousin. The reply came immediately.

“You're quite perceptive, aren't you?”

Ma Se-In wore a bitter expression. Complicated feelings colored his answer.

The Ma clan's martial arts were not orthodox cultivation. Lately, the decline in Ma Yeonjeok's prowess—the clan's only purple-robed master—had become conspicuous. The Desolate's Ma Clan was reconsidering its hereditary martial arts. After all, the rise and fall of a renowned martial house was directly tied to the quality and nature of its arts.

Amid this, Ju Yeonjeong had introduced the imperial Eight Methods of the Golden Immortal. The moment Ma Se-In was chosen as heir, she had displayed remarkable resourcefulness, obtaining imperial permission to share part of its formula. Thus she had won over the Ma clan's retainers and built a base of support, ensuring that Ma Se-In's position would no longer be shaken by Ma Yeonjeok's personal whims.

“I see.”

Jung Yeonshin nodded inwardly. He had found it strange when Ju Yeonjeong previously summoned him behind Ma Yeonjeok's back, but now it all made sense.

The Desolate's Ma Clan was a martial house. A great house's power sprang from its martial arts and reputation. If someone gained a hold over the arts that formed its foundation, the house could not help but be shaken.

‘That doesn't matter right now.’

The man now facing a peril as precarious as a candle in the wind in Sichuan's Murim was this family's legitimate son. Jung Yeonshin had obtained the raw intelligence from the Command Bureau at the earliest opportunity. He spoke at once.

“Ma Jin, captain of the Radiant Demon Squad.”

He spoke without regard for Ma Yeonjeok and Ju Yeonjeong's argument.

He had already shown everyone present the sight of Spirit Treasure Jade dissolving into the air. Now, as his voice cut into their exchange, it carried an unmistakable weight.

“I am told my uncle Ma's whereabouts are unknown. The same goes for the Radiant Demon Squad. The Command Bureau says matters have reached the point where they must be excluded from available combat strength.”

“What...?”

One of the Desolate's Ma Clan elders spoke first. The question seemed to escape him involuntarily. Jung Yeonshin continued, unperturbed.

“The dispatch just reached the Command Bureau. I heard it directly. I need a force capable of finding every member of the Radiant Demon Squad and bringing them back.”

“...”

After a brief silence, someone reacted. The wave of qi that arose was fierce. Purple robes surged like storm-tossed waves. They belonged to Ma Yeonjeok.

“... Do you know how troubled Murim has become of late? The years of poor harvests have gone on too long. Countless people are rising in revolt across the land, and now it is difficult to distinguish martial artists from common folk. There are vermin all over the Central Plains who have learned a few moves and fancy themselves kings. The fortress has no strength to spare. The Radiant Demon Squad must prove on its own that it remains intact.”

His words did not match his fierce presence. Even as he displayed his anger, he maintained a blade-sharp reason. Even before the grandson he found so difficult to approach, he separated public duty from private feeling. The former Divine Sword Squad Leader's mettle was chilling. These were convictions hardened over decades.

For a moment, Jung Yeonshin's maternal grandfather did not seem human to him. Had he looked like this when he abandoned Yeonshin's mother? The sword of the Desolate Fortress moved his wrinkled lips to address the boy.

“The Command Bureau must have told you the same thing as your grandfather. Am I right?”

“... Yes. That is why I thought to seek the Ma clan's aid,” Jung Yeonshin answered.

“... Our house's forces have also gone out to relieve the suffering of the people. The fortress master commanded it. The Eight Families and the Thirteen Skies are all running rampant, yet the fortress does not have even a few dozen combat units.”

“Could you not venture out yourself, Grandfather?”

He finally voiced the question that had kept hovering on his tongue.

It was Ju Yeonjeong who answered. Her red lips were oddly twisted.

“A purple-robed master without an office must remain on standby at all times. Such is the fortress's law.”

Every one of them spoke of the law. They were all bound by it. Suddenly, Jung Yeonshin felt an impulse. He wanted to shatter something unseen.

‘What should I do?’

He needed to secure a force capable of contending with Sichuan's Murim, and quickly. The Radiant Demon Squad's whereabouts were already unknown. The longer he delayed, the more seriously he would have to consider the possibility that he might never find even their bodies.

‘Must I take in the Desolate's Ma Clan's martial arts and revise them? Even if it takes time?’

No. He could not. How long would the formulas they had accumulated over the years be? It was not something he could finish quickly. Rejecting the Ma clan's orthodox tradition and creating something new would take less time. But who here would accept that?

“Ah...”

His heart seemed to constrict. He had reached a limit with no way around it. For the first time since learning how short his life would be, Jung Yeonshin felt utterly at a loss. All the more so because this was not something he was confronting in person in Sichuan.

“I have a force I have cultivated privately. Promise me one thing, and I will gladly place it at your disposal.”

He merely kept Ju Yeonjeong's cool words in mind. She was of a collateral imperial line. Like a viper, there was no telling what she might demand. He would reconsider her offer only if he failed to find a force before the night was over.

“Keep your chin up.”

He started walking with the Supreme Flame Dragon, who had offered that awkward encouragement. The members of the Desolate's Ma Clan saw them off in silence. Many wore rigid expressions, as though they, too, were mastering their feelings. There was nothing to be done. They all seemed to be saying so.

STEP.

Jung Yeonshin had not given up yet.

‘Whatever it takes.’

He had already settled on a few people in his mind. Himself and the Supreme Flame Dragon first. He intended to implore Namgoong Hwashin as well.

‘Let's start by securing three blue-robed experts.’

But the moment they entered Sichuan, they would have to begin searching and making inquiries. They needed more hands. Even white-robed warriors could easily overwhelm most wandering mercenaries, yet he had no way to secure any immediately. He was still making these calculations alone when it happened.

The boy abruptly raised his head midstride. He sensed presences gathered some distance away. Beyond the Desolate's Ma Clan's main gate, he felt the quiet, settled ripples of core energy. There were more than one or two. They ranged from qi waves too weak to earn a formal rank at the Desolate Fortress to those of people fully capable of wielding a sword at blue-robed level.

“They say those visitors have come to see you, Yeonshin.”

Ma Yeonjeok seemed to have sensed them already. There was something odd about his tone.

RUMBLE!

Those outside appeared to have noticed Jung Yeonshin's presence as well. The enormous gate slowly opened. A group approached, heading straight for him.

“But they're all from different units...?”

Bewilderment colored Ma Se-In's voice. He was heir to the Desolate's Ma Clan. Having spent so long at the fortress, he knew the faces of the Divine Sword Squad's combat units well.

‘All the ones in front are formally ranked warriors.’

So Jung Yeonshin thought. Were there about thirty? Behind them, he could see a great many unranked disciples, too.

His eyes swept over them. There was a familiarity to their bodies. Every one of them felt familiar. What he had felt only in his own body, he now saw in others: the traces of tireless training. The shape of their muscles, their gaits, the faint qi waves emanating from practiced forms.

“Lightning Genius? He's even younger than I heard...”

“If you're judging by appearances, look at that physique first.”

“An astonishingly well-honed body. Coming all this way was worthwhile.”

“Worthwhile? Shouldn't we think of our duty first? He gave us something unbelievable. Repaying him should come first.”

These were the people approaching from the right. They seemed mainly to practice fist and palm arts. The muscles below their shoulders traced smooth curves. Those lines were familiar. Such physical changes were especially prominent in the early stages of practicing the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike. Training it together with core energy produced that result.

‘Was Shin Sobin telling the truth?’

He could even tell which forms they had focused on. Four had thoroughly practiced the first form, Vortex; three the second, Formidable Wall; and the remaining five the third, Fist Blossoms.

Every martial artist of the Desolate Fortress was an exceptional talent. He had heard it often from his Radiant Demon Squad seniors. Each had been called a genius in their own hometown. If they selected a single move to practice over a short period, they could certainly achieve clear results.

‘And...’

Jung Yeonshin's gaze shifted.

“...”

Those approaching from the opposite side to the fist-and-palm practitioners were silent. They were swordsmen, as the Desolate Swords at their waists made clear. Men and women alike had long limbs. Their whole bodies exuded a familiar quality: a sharpness like rays of sunlight. They seemed to have practiced several sword forms from the Radiant Sword Art.

‘That's not all.’

A few even possessed the distinctive vitality of the Classic of Initiating Transcendence. Had they truly begun learning an art that required such fine sensitivity to the layering of core energy? Others' footsteps carried the subtleties of the Evading Swift Step.

His vision filled with his own unique martial arts. They were martial formulas brought to life and motion. Jung Yeonshin stood dazed for a moment.

“What is the matter? You were sharp as a blade at the Promotion Exam.”

A weighty voice rang out. An imposing presence washed over him, like that of a seasoned general of the northern army. It belonged to the man leading the approaching group.

The middle-aged warrior's scarred face was familiar. His robes were not. He had worn white when they first met, but now his martial robes were blue. Hong Joogeom of the Desolate Fortress's Annihilation Squad. He had crossed swords with Jung Yeonshin during the blue-rank promotion assessment. It seemed he, too, had finally risen to blue rank.

“Since your return, we have kept a close watch on your movements. And today, at last, word came that you had left the Radiant Demon Squad hall.”

Hong Joogeom stopped about ten paces before Jung Yeonshin. His expression was gentle, in contrast to the gruesome scars etched across his face.

“We have been looking for you for quite some time.”

His manner of speaking had changed. It was not how he had addressed Lightning Genius when the boy was a white-robed warrior. He no longer spoke down to him. The warriors approaching alongside Hong Joogeom all came to a halt. These seekers of martial knowledge at the Desolate Fortress fixed their eyes upon a single boy.

‘Strangers, yet so familiar.’

That was what Jung Yeonshin thought. That was how it felt.

They were not strangers. Such were the people of the martial world. Skills gave rise to schools, and martial arts bound people together. From those bonds, something was born. They called it a Murim sect. Martial strength. A branching lineage.

At this very moment, a school of martial learning was taking shape here, too. His donation of martial arts—something he had done simply to obtain merit points—had brought an astonishing result.

“Let us pay our respects,” Hong Joogeom said.

At once, every warrior clasped their hands and raised them before their chests in a crisp martial salute. Anyone could see that the gesture came from the heart. It carried the utmost reverence.

The feeling that reached him was strange. Ju Yeonjeong and the other members of the Ma clan receded from Jung Yeonshin's mind, though every one of them was watching.

“We, practitioners of this lineage...”

They seemed to have arranged it beforehand. The moment Hong Joogeom began, the warriors arrayed behind him spoke together.

“...humbly offer our greetings to our founding master.”

They spoke with a single voice. Their greeting awakened the night of the Desolate Fortress.