Jung Yeonshin landed, letting his hand fall naturally to his side. He did not even need a few steps to steady himself. The fluttering hem of his long blue robe briefly wound around his legs before coming loose.

'Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike... So it counters Demonic Path masters as well.'

He had confirmed that it worked exactly as he had named it. It held an overwhelming advantage against the power of the evil and unorthodox paths. Against the right opponent, might it even allow him to contend with a master a level above him?

"Hhh..."

It sounded like air escaping a pair of lungs. A dead man's breath. The Pure Demon Alliance master, his head crushed, lost his balance. His body swayed for an instant, unable to withstand the vortex of force. The short cape covering his shoulders sagged limply against his back.

WHOOSH!

Fragments of power he had failed to disperse swirled into a gentle breeze. Slowly, his body toppled backward, his eyes still wide open.

THUD!

A heavy tremor ran through the ground. They stood on a fairly steep slope, and his body slid a short distance downhill before stopping.

He had died instantly.

"...!"

The warriors charging after him braked sharply. There were perhaps fifteen of them. Their legs, still driving their lightness skills, bulged taut in an instant. Faces stiffening, they glanced rapidly between the corpse and Jung Yeonshin, every pair of eyes darting in horror.

SCRAAAPE!

They skidded to a halt ten paces away.

"Young Master Jung!"

Heon Wonchang's shout rang out from behind him, brimming with delight. Leaving his enemies before him, Jung Yeonshin turned. The ease of the strong was beginning to show in his bearing. The Desolate Fortress's golden embroidery swept across the enemies' vision as he turned away.

"What in the..."

As one man muttered in bewilderment, Jung Yeonshin met Heon Wonchang's eyes, his back now to the man. Heon Wonchang's eyes widened almost to bursting before he broke into a broad grin.

"It is you! It really is! For a moment, I doubted my own eyes!"

He came running over with a booming laugh. Only moments had passed since Yeonshin had swept past him, and the short distance brought them face-to-face almost at once. Taking him in, Jung Yeonshin felt an inward rush of relief. At least Heon Wonchang was alive.

"Young Master Heon."

"What a welcome sight! I thought I wouldn't survive the day!"

"I don't see any wounds. Do you have any internal injuries?"

Jung Yeonshin asked, struggling to contain his delight. Heon Wonchang's smile deepened.

"None, of course. You know I have some expertise in Protective Aura, don't you? The internal-energy shield of this Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior is not so feeble that nameless nobodies can pierce it. But truly, what a feat, finding your way here! This place could hardly be more secret or better hidden. You really came for us. Though I certainly waited long enough."

"Well..."

"At any rate, it seems the fortress has sent reinforcements. Splendid! To think you would be among them! But what happened with the Namgoong clan? Did you defeat the Blue Qilin? You must have, to be standing here! Truly remarkable! Of all the rising generation, you are surely one who might someday contend for the title of greatest under heaven."

He plainly did not know what to do with his joy. A smile filled his entire face. The hero's headband he normally flaunted had apparently been torn away somewhere, and his arched eyebrows looked comical beneath his fully exposed forehead. Then he leaned slightly aside and stole a look at the Pure Demon Alliance master sprawled behind Jung Yeonshin.

"That fellow there. No, that bastard is called the Dark Path Palm Killer, a Demonic Path master of the Pure Demon Alliance. An expert in palm techniques, said to be able to kill three men with a single palm strike. Yet he couldn't withstand one move of your fist and palm arts!"

As he spoke, he stepped to the side.

PAT!

Heon Wonchang laid a hand on Jung Yeonshin's shoulder, where the boy's shoulder muscle formed a right angle beneath his neck. Making no effort to hide his emotion, he kneaded it as though giving him a massage, the corners of his mouth lifting in satisfaction.

"Dark Path Palm Killer, my ass. Died with the top of his head split wide open."

"..."

"A truly satisfying end."

Jung Yeonshin said nothing. He was already accustomed to Heon Wonchang's insensitivity. Surely that had not been a reference to the Baihui point.

The boy turned back around.

"More importantly, those men."

His gaze took in Heon Wonchang's pursuers. They had not dared move throughout the pair's conversation. They were whispering among themselves, as though trying to devise a plan against a master they could not possibly match.

Heon Wonchang gave a soft snort and spoke. Borrowing Jung Yeonshin's authority as an ally came exceedingly naturally to him.

"Scum from Sichuan's Brilliant Prosperity Sect. Their bastard of a sect leader stabbed Senior Baek in the back."

"You mean Senior Baek Miryeo?"

Jung Yeonshin's voice sank. The scenes he had witnessed through his upper dantian flashed through his mind. Many of his seniors had been slashed and stabbed in the back. He remembered Baek Miryeo's exceptionally pale skin, too. Chung Myung's sharply defined abdominal muscles had also been split by sword wounds.

It had not been foresight. Apparently, he had been shown the current state of the City of Master Artisans.

"How could that happen? With her martial prowess, Senior Baek could wipe out several small or medium-sized sects single-handedly. Was it betrayal, then?"

"Betrayal? Hardly."

Heon Wonchang scoffed. It was not directed at Jung Yeonshin, but at the enemies standing helpless before them.

"Who else would our fortress ever trust? Why, you yourself suffered at the Namgoong clan's hands. And with a sect that straddles the two paths, wouldn't it be strange for us to trust them at all?"

"Then?"

"We never trusted them in the first place. One look was enough to tell they had come as lackeys of the Thirteen Skies. The problem was simply that we were attacked from three sides. The Pure Demon Alliance and the Ten Perfections Sect. With those two Sichuan factions of the Thirteen Skies coming at us from either side, could we spare the strength to guard against the others' moves? A few of our careless seniors had no choice but to leave their backs exposed."

He was not truly insulting them. By the end, his voice had sunk in dejection.

"Senior Chung Myung and Senior Baek... suffered sword wounds saving me. All because of the one useless fool in Radiant Demon Team One..."

He could hardly help blaming himself. Jung Yeonshin did not attempt any clumsy consolation. He could still vividly picture the great hero of Desolate Fortress shielding ordinary people with his own body from the Blood Flame Cultists in Xuzhou. This was a man possessed of true chivalry. His inner strength was second to none.

"Why were you being chased alone? Where are the other seniors?" Jung Yeonshin asked quietly.

"I should begin by explaining that the City of Master Artisans is divided into four districts," Heon Wonchang replied, the smile gone from his face.

"Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. They told us the districts lie in a line. This is Spring District, which serves as the entrance. The Radiant Demon Squad is advancing toward Winter District."

"You stayed behind alone?"

"It has been quite some time since we set out on our mission, hasn't it? Those outside would have realized the Radiant Demon Squad had vanished. We needed someone to guide whatever reinforcements might come. We weren't certain... but we are the Desolate Fortress."

Immense pride suffused those last words. It befitted a man who called himself the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior.

"As it turns out, I was waiting for you. How fortunate is that? All this time, I had been hiding near the entrance to Spring District. Though the bastards trying to put the district's smiths to work discovered me, and I've been running this way and that ever since."

"Is there a reason the Radiant Demon Squad headed for the far end of the city?"

"I hear the Namsadang traveling performers in Haedong use a certain curse."

"...?"

"They say, 'Make them eat shit.' Apparently, it means to thwart someone's plans. Senior Chung Myung used it when he made his proposal to our captain. Since whatever two whole factions of the Thirteen Skies were after seemed to be in Winter District, shouldn't we of the Desolate Fortress seize it instead?"

The azure-eyed demonic swordsman, Chung Myung. A swordsman who vied for supremacy among the blue robes. Yeonshin could picture him smiling gently despite his wounds as he delivered that venomous remark.

"The Ten Perfections Sect and Pure Demon Alliance conspired with Sichuan sects that straddle the two paths. Their targets were this city and the Tang clan head. We were merely questioning the Tang clan head when we became embroiled in this sordid mess. From the top of that cliff all the way down here."

Heon Wonchang pointed at the lofty ceiling.

"And so we found ourselves unable to leave. Is the Radiant Demon Squad an ordinary fighting force? With so many masters beyond their control gathered at their objective, those evil and unorthodox bastards were hardly going to let us go peacefully."

"..."

"They attacked at first because of a misunderstanding. But blood was shed before anything else, and that alone ruined any chance of peace. Nor did we simply sit there and take it. After that, well, naturally they had no choice but to throw caution to the winds and keep pressing the attack..."

Heon Wonchang trailed off. In other words, they were being pushed from Spring District toward Winter District, partly by choice and partly against their will. It amounted to constant fighting. How many more would be wounded or killed in the process?

His account sounded almost like a joke, but such were the unorthodox factions—and Murim.

"How has the fighting proceeded?"

"Just when we think we've had half a double-hour's respite, they attack again. I barely managed to break away myself. That was when those two seniors were hurt."

Heon Wonchang's expression darkened again. Jung Yeonshin nodded slowly.

'That's enough.'

He understood the situation. Now he had to move forward.

It was then that he heard a voice.

"E-excuse me."

Jung Yeonshin lifted his head. One of the Brilliant Prosperity Sect men had called to him, apparently seeking to negotiate.

"Young master of the Desolate Fortress. Surely there is no need for bloodshed. We will withdraw."

The man, dressed in dusty silk martial robes, continued.

"Doesn't that golden embroidery signify your exalted status? Our only crime was to obey the Pure Demon Alliance under duress. Please show us understanding."

It was a curious attitude. He kept his back rigidly straight, as though trying to preserve his pride even while pleading. It betrayed the insularity peculiar to Sichuan's Murim.

"..."

Jung Yeonshin swept his gaze over them. One and all, they averted their faces, unable to meet his eyes. They seemed thoroughly accustomed to Murim's law of the strong devouring the weak.

'They said they straddle the orthodox and unorthodox paths.'

There were many such neutral sects in the world. They operated on the boundary between the two paths, acting according to their sects' interests. Think of them as unorthodox factions that watch the authorities' reactions, Chung Myung had said.

Jung Yeonshin slowly parted his lips.

"You chose the wrong line to walk this time. You've crossed it."

"Shall we kill them, sir?"

The Supreme Flame Dragon's voice sounded just behind his neck. He could sense it without looking back. The Wing-Returning Unit's masters stood arrayed behind him. They had been there since he began speaking with Heon Wonchang. That was why the Brilliant Prosperity Sect warriors, at a loss for what to do, had finally spoken first.

Heon Wonchang, too, had been stealing glances behind Yeonshin while explaining the situation. At the sight of the Supreme Flame Dragon, his mouth fell open in shock.

"The Hwangbo young clan head...?!"

"You know me. I don't know your name. I only remember your face. Vaguely."

"What, what is going on?"

The boy spoke calmly.

"Young Master Heon."

"Young Master Jung, these people..."

"How badly are the Radiant Demon Squad seniors injured? The worst case."

"... Senior Oh lost her left arm."

A fierce pain shot through Jung Yeonshin's lower lip. He had bitten it without realizing. The blue-robed senior Oh Wolhyang had immediately come to mind. She was the middle-aged woman who had treated him like a son.

"Wing-Returning Unit."

The boy called to them in a low murmur.

HISSS...

For an instant, Heon Wonchang saw an illusion of the Lightning Genius's long blue robe turning crimson. It was as though he wore the pure-blood robe of the Blood Flame Cult's Grand Preceptor.

'His internal energy cultivation is advancing to the next stage...!'

The thought filled him with tremendous shock.

Waves of the Demonic Asura Blood Art spread irregularly from Jung Yeonshin's body. Colorless heat haze rose in eerie bursts. He had deliberately roused it, seeking its domineering temperament.

He had to move forward, but the City of Master Artisans was sealed off. Leave enemies at his back? Anyone would call it foolish, no matter how few they were. As a captain of the Desolate Fortress, he had reached the moment for a decision.

Slowly, Jung Yeonshin parted his newly reddened lips.

"Kill them. All of them."

STEP.

Having given the order, the boy started down the path alone, toward the distant cluster of homes in Spring District. Bathed in the subterranean city's soft light, he walked straight ahead. No one impeded him.

SLASH! SPLATTER!

"Gah!"

"You, you bastards...!"

The air grew scorching hot. The Supreme Flame Dragon leaped forward at once, smashing enemy heads with his fists. Wildly distorted wind burst outward. Within it, colorless sword qi from the White Qilin, Namgoong Hwashin, soared in every direction. This was the Boundless Heaven Sword Technique, executed at the pinnacle of mastery.

As the keen winds of the Wing-Returning Unit masters' swords swept in and cut down their enemies, the Tang warriors, including Tang Ryeoryeo and Tang Yeohwa, and the Beggars' Sect experts stared blankly at Jung Yeonshin's back. The path was opening wide. Only the footsteps of the boy walking through its very center rang out distinctly.

"Wing-Returning Unit. Lightning Genius."

The Beggar Heir slowly murmured the names.

Meanwhile, far away...

"Ah."

The voice was crystalline. The exclamation was almost a moan. It came from atop a towering stone wall.

The Blood Flame Cult's Seventh Apostle swept her long black hair back over her shoulder. She had completely concealed her terrifying qi waves. Reclining sideways upon a distant jutting rock, she gazed at her little Cult Leader with a face lost in rapture.

"You've changed again. My Grand Preceptor."

Her ruby lips moved.

She remained motionless for a long time, her crimson eyes following her young Grand Preceptor—hers alone—to the very end. She savored it all: his flawlessly honed body, the truly noble waves of his Blood Art, and the sight of him walking calmly onward after ordering their extermination.