The enormous stone gate was still parting when the Poison Lord, Tang Unhwang, suddenly approached and spoke.

“Your surname is Jung, and your epithet is Lightning Genius, was it?”

“Yes, Clan Head.”

Jung Yeonshin answered calmly, his gaze fixed ahead. Even with the Tang clan head beside him, he could not spare him a glance. He would soon have to stake his life.

He hoped the Radiant Demon Squad was safe.

Tang Unhwang did not seem to mind. He gazed up at Jung Yeonshin before continuing.

“There is a refinement to your words and bearing. You hardly seem to have come from ordinary wandering-warrior stock. Have you heard of a man called Huanchu Daoren?”

“The author of Discourses on Vegetable Roots.”

The boy answered quietly.

The Jeong Clan Estate in Henan had been foremost in Xinye County. The family had feared that flaunting its influence would make it look like vulgar new money.

Thus, everyone of its blood had been required to possess an education. Even its unwanted son had not been allowed to abandon his studies. Along with the Outline of the Great Ming and the Four Books and Three Classics, he had skimmed Discourses on Vegetable Roots, however superficially.

Tang Unhwang’s thick beard rose on either side of his mouth.

“You are well read. It weaves the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism together nicely. It teaches one how to navigate life, and many of its sayings deserve reflection.”

“...”

“Though night and day change in tumult, that light remains throughout the world, like the unchanging myriad things. It speaks of the virtues of a gentleman.”

The boy knew the passage. He had memorized them all.

Yet it struck him a little differently now. Was that the difference made by the years one had lived?

RUMBLE!

The stone gate to the City of Master Artisans’ Winter District differed from those they had passed through. It was exceptionally large.

As the trap mechanisms slowly turned and the gate opened inch by inch, Tang Unhwang continued.

“Martial arts unleashed in haste leave nothing in reserve. In quiet times, one should prepare with movement within stillness; in urgent times, maintain the calm of stillness within movement. That holds true for swords and hidden weapons alike.”

It was advice from a supreme master. Profound wisdom resonated in his voice. Jung Yeonshin instinctively understood that this, too, was a fortuitous encounter.

The Supreme Flame Dragon abruptly cut in.

“You seem quite accomplished at talking in circles. Aren’t you simply saying that a short temper is a quick road to the grave? That’s as basic as it gets.”

“I heard rumors that the Hwangbo young clan head was unconventional in word and deed. So they were true. You are right. This young Lightning Genius seemed in need of a more relaxed mind.”

“Our temporary captain may be young, but he’s an old man inside. Surely he can manage that himself.”

He was angling for merit points.

Yet even blatant flattery took on a peculiar flavor when it passed through the Supreme Flame Dragon’s mouth. Tang Unhwang gave a hearty laugh.

“Those words are for myself as well. I have repeated them constantly. To avenge my wife fully, I must first stay alive. To take revenge and still preserve this life of mine.”

His voice was like wind sweeping over dry fallen leaves.

A man who had once been a peerless master now walked the martial world alone, burdened by internal injuries. All because he had lost his lifelong companion. How deep were the shackles of that suffering? Jung Yeonshin could not begin to imagine.

‘Discourses on Vegetable Roots. Though night turns to day, the light does not change.’

He took the Tang clan head’s words to heart and reflected on them just once.

‘Circulate core energy calmly. Stillness within movement for the sword path.’

Then Jung Yeonshin stepped toward the light of the City of Master Artisans’ Winter District. His steps quickened.

He passed unhesitatingly through the open gate, his run already becoming a lightness skill. Streams of the noble race’s wind coiled around his legs. It was the secret movement technique Chung Myung had taught him.

THWACK!

The floor of the vast cavern pushed firmly against his feet. Jung Yeonshin raced onward.

The pale lighting of the City of Master Artisans had grown brighter. Winter District was different. It was vast from the entrance onward, like a cavern inhabited by a great serpent awaiting its ascent to dragonhood.

He could not even see the ceiling. How far underground had they descended?

Behind him, he sensed the Wing-Returning Unit running silently at his heels. It was his only comfort.

‘There they are...!’

His view opened wide before he had exhaled even five times.

A devastated village.

A few more steps brought it into sight. It might as well have been a vast clearing. Not a single home stood intact, as though a typhoon had swept through the underground.

Within it, masters were trading sword strikes. There looked to be a good fifty of them, every last one an expert.

Their swift movement techniques raised whirlwinds all across the area. Every space within sight seemed to have become a battlefield. Fierce clashes erupted everywhere.

BOOM! THUD!

The air trembled as waves of force from Burst Discharge collided.

Stories of Murim masters fighting for more than seven days and nights were not uncommon, but to find this scene the moment they entered...

Just how long had they been fighting? Even the pursuit seemed to have ended, giving way to an all-out battle.

‘The Radiant Demon Squad. Where are they?’

He scanned the battlefield as he ran.

There were many bodies.

Heaven, they said, was indifferent and without mercy. Some of Jung Yeonshin’s seniors were bound to be lying among them.

The boy was no longer inexperienced in the martial world. He had not expected everyone to survive. He had already been informed at the Desolate Fortress that two white robes had died. He could only hope there had been few further casualties.

‘Senior Oh Yugwang. Senior Du Cheongcheon.’

It was a futile hope. As his field of vision rapidly expanded, the bodies of his white-robed seniors came into view.

None of those still moving wore the Desolate Fortress’s white martial robes. He could only conclude that the white robes had been wiped out.

The entire Radiant Demon Squad seemed to have barely fifteen people left. The blue robes of Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo were covered in blood as they fought desperately.

SHING!

He recalled what Hong Joogeom had said before the Wing-Returning Unit was formed: draw the Desolate Sword at the head of the unit.

There was no time to think about giving orders. The boy had drawn his sword before he realized it.

“Hm? Who goes there?!”

“Desolate...! It’s the Desolate Fortress!”

The nearby enemies’ voices carried an eerie chill. Jung Yeonshin was charging into the battlefield, his hand tightening around his sword hilt, when it happened.

At the heart of the fierce battle—

CLANG!

The left sleeve of a black robe went flying. A powerful forearm shot upward on its own.

The Radiant Demon Squad captain’s scar-covered left arm had been severed. As it flew, it whipped up a storm of force he had not yet released.

He had been holding off two enemy supreme masters alone.

“Captain of the Radiant Demon Squad! They said you were a contender for the strongest of the black robes. You have certainly lived up to your reputation!”

The blond, blue-eyed man from the Western Regions who had cut off Ma Jin’s left arm with the edge of his hand shouted.

Powerful fluctuations of internal power carried the foreign middle-aged man’s voice. His intent was clear. He had spoken to raise his side’s morale.

Ha Yulgeuk, the Pure Demon Divine Hand.

He was an immensely renowned supreme master. Even his massive build set him apart. He stood six chi tall, his blue eyes filled with authority.

A sleeveless, pitch-black coat hung down his back—the distinctive attire of the Pure Demon Alliance.

The Pure Demon Alliance of Sichuan.

A great sect of the Thirteen skies. It was the resurgence of a Demonic Cult lineage that had been exterminated at the founding of the Ming.

Among their number, the Pure Demon Divine Hand could be called the leader of the Thirteen skies’ elite gathered here.

He was the man who had severed Ma Jin’s arm, even if it had taken a joint attack. His monstrous qi waves seemed to slice into the skin. This was the realm of the Desolate Fortress’s black robes.

It did not matter. Thought vanished from Jung Yeonshin’s mind.

BOOM!

Core energy exploded from the Yongquan points in his soles. The stone floor burst apart beneath the stunned boy’s feet.

WHOOSH!

He accelerated abruptly, breaking away from the Wing-Returning Unit on his own. In an instant, Jung Yeonshin hurtled toward the heart of the battle.

But the enemies reacted quickly. These were the warriors who had been driving the Radiant Demon Squad back. Six men and women turned toward the boy.

The Ten Perfections Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance. The secret martial arts of those great sects filled the space before him. Fists, spears, and sword strikes thrust toward him, every one extraordinary.

The dim light of the Radiant Sword Art surged from Jung Yeonshin’s fingertips. He swung the Desolate Sword like a club.

CRACK! BOOM!

He broke them all. Groans burst from his enemies’ mouths.

Fragments of blades, a severed arm—everything fell behind Jung Yeonshin. He could not slow his run for even a moment.

Fortunately, they were small fry. The enemy’s blue-robed equivalents seemed wholly intent on annihilating the Radiant Demon Squad.

THWACK!

He reached the center in an instant, having made full use of the advantage of surprise.

“Yeonshin!”

The one-armed Ma Jin cried out in alarm. He was being driven helplessly back by the Pure Demon Divine Hand and the Ten Perfections Sect’s supreme master.

“Reinforcements?”

The aging man standing shoulder to shoulder with the Pure Demon Divine Hand murmured.

With a light step, he moved to block Jung Yeonshin’s path. Amid the chaotic battlefield, he alone carried himself with ease.

He was a warrior of the Ten Perfections Sect. His appearance was distinctive: a dark-blue battle robe worn like a great general’s, and a greatsword in hand.

With unusual attire and supreme martial prowess, it was difficult not to become famous in the martial world.

Dokgo Gwang, the Sword Scorpion Demon.

He was a swordsman of the great sect said to have synthesized the martial arts of eighteen kinds of weapons. He reportedly led the sect’s foremost strike force and was considered exceptional even within the Ten Perfections Sect.

“What remarkable bearing for a stripling. Your refined core energy is truly extraordinary. What is your name?”

The Sword Scorpion Demon’s question seemed sincere. Admiration showed in the gaze sweeping over Jung Yeonshin’s body. It bordered on astonishment.

“And you have tempered your body well. No—yours is a vessel unlike any I have ever seen. Why have you come here now? Had you lived longer, you might have become a peerless master capable of contending for supremacy under heaven.”

“...”

Jung Yeonshin did not answer. He wanted to examine his maternal uncle’s injuries on the other side, but the supreme master before him had an overwhelming presence.

The weaker fighter had no leisure to spare. At this moment, the Sword Scorpion Demon and the Pure Demon Divine Hand were the strong ones. No one could protest even if they appraised Jung Yeonshin and expressed pity for him.

Ma Jin faced the Pure Demon Divine Hand with one arm gone.

The Radiant Demon Squad’s seniors seemed hard-pressed simply to hold off the two great sects’ experts. They were outnumbered.

Behind him, he sensed the Wing-Returning Unit joining them one after another. Yet he immediately sensed that even this was not enough. They had merely shifted from a losing defense to a feeble offensive.

They lacked the masters needed to turn the tide.

The Tang clan head was slaughtering the Thirteen skies warriors who had clustered together in an instant, but even if he came here, facing either the Sword Scorpion Demon or the Pure Demon Divine Hand would be his limit.

The retired head of the Sichuan Tang Clan’s scheme had left him with internal injuries.

‘I have to do it,’ the boy thought.

The main experts of the Desolate Fortress, the Pure Demon Alliance, and the Ten Perfections Sect were locked in fierce battle here.

Three supreme masters whose fame reached across the world had gathered in this place. Unwittingly, he had stepped onto a proving ground. He had to win here.

“Come.”

The Sword Scorpion Demon smiled as he spoke.

Jung Yeonshin raised the Movement Art to its utmost. Then he began tuning every muscle in his body.

* * *

High on a rock wall far from the battlefield, beggars lounged at ease.

Every one was a Beggars’ Sect expert with several knots at the waist. They surveyed the battlefield in a leisurely fashion.

“This is rather awkward. The Radiant Demon Squad was being pushed back harder than I expected. Even against twice their number in equally strong forces, they should have been able to hold out if they’d stayed on the defensive.”

The Beggar Heir addressed the Beggars’ Sect experts who had accompanied him.

“It seems to have been because of the City of Master Artisans’ residents. The Radiant Demon Squad appears to have gotten them safely away somehow. Though that would have left them open.”

“Well, naturally, if that’s what they did. They tried to rescue hostages with insufficient strength... Still, we beggars could learn from the Radiant Demon Squad’s chivalry.”

They answered, their insolently sprawling postures suiting them perfectly.

“I can’t see a good opening. Great Master Bodhidharma’s treasure plaque seems to have already fallen into the Pure Demon Alliance’s hands... Oh dear, the Forest-Slaying Sword has it. Even a Radiant Demon Squad blue robe wouldn’t push him back easily. Is there no way for us to take it?”

The Beggar Heir stroked his chin once and muttered.

Just then, a woman’s voice spoke.

“I have a question.”

A shaft of red light swept over the beggars with her words. It was a subtle yet chilling light from her eyes. The uncanny qi waves blooming around her were immensely powerful.

“What...?”

The Beggar Heir and his companions raised their heads stiffly. They had instinctively sensed a master they could not oppose.

Cries of astonishment immediately burst out.

A woman stood with her feet planted against the vertical stone wall, looking down at them. Her Mobility Arts were terrifying.

Her flowing, ebony hair and crimson eyes were striking. A pure-blood robe redder still enveloped her entire body. She was at once bewitching and aloof.

Her ruby-like eyes regarded the Beggars’ Sect experts at leisure. They swallowed hard.

“About the fragment of the manifestation body’s core energy said to be in that treasure plaque...”

Her lips moved slowly.

“...”

“Would it be good for you? A boy about this tall is going to eat it.”

She asked while lifting her white-jade hand slightly. At a glance, the gesture seemed innocent.

“... Of course, of course it must have wondrous benefits! Surely some spiritual power would bloom within the body? If it is Great Master Bodhidharma’s legacy, it should at least do no harm!”

The Beggar Heir answered with desperate haste.

“Mm. I see.”

The corners of the Seventh Apostle’s mouth rose slightly.