'The Movement Art was born when I gave it a name and an identity.'

Jung Yeonshin reflected on this. There was only one reason part of the Movement Art's formula, which he had composed in childhood, had come to mind. An art ingrained in the body was the most powerful weapon of all, and he reviewed it before a formidable enemy.

The boy could recite a formula of over three hundred characters in his mind as swiftly as lightning. Creating an internal martial art during combat, however, seemed difficult after all.

A mighty enemy stood before him.

The aging swordsman, Sword Scorpion Demon Dokgo Gwang. A supreme master of the Ten Perfections Sect.

Clad in a battle robe like a general, he radiated a presence as forbidding as his attire. He ranked among the finest warriors of one of the great sects of the Thirteen skies. That meant he could contend with the Desolate Fortress's black robes.

The wrinkles around his eyes would measure the depth of his experience in the martial world.

'He's the strongest enemy I've ever faced in a fight to the death.'

That was Jung Yeonshin's assessment.

He was on a different level from anyone Yeonshin had ever fought with his life at stake. Even Blue Qilin Namgoong Sejin.

Overwhelming as the king-style sword arts were, the energy emanating from this seasoned master felt more terrifying. It was not a matter of the quality of his martial arts. His attainment was simply that high.

"Exceptional young talent, what are you doing? Fortune favors our side. You have no time to spare."

"..."

Jung Yeonshin did not rush in merely because Dokgo Gwang had invited him to attack.

Given time to think, the boy's chances of victory increased, however slightly. He could discern his opponent's nature and devise ways to counter him.

All thanks to that damned Baihui point.

'His sword commands a wide area. His internal energy is tremendous, too. His waves of force will have an incredible range.'

Jung Yeonshin took in his opponent's entire body. He had the feeling that closing in with his fist and palm arts would cost him his head.

He could see no opening in the enemy standing with his greatsword lowered. His qi waves were exceptionally dense.

And so he opened with the Radiant Sword Art. He had no other choice.

He slid the sole of his foot against the ground, twisting it sideways as he shifted his weight onto it.

The Movement Art contracted his calf muscle and imbued it with explosive strength. It was enough to make the stone floor feel almost soft.

At the same time, the fine meridians throughout his body responded. The sword art's formula drew out the Movement Art's core energy. It was a sword formula he had gleaned from the cliffs of Mount Zhongnan.

The hilt of the Desolate Sword in his right hand abruptly warmed—the precursor to a sword move manifesting in an instant.

TAP!

He stepped out and unleashed his sword strike. It swept horizontally from in front of his body outward.

The air split. The pure-white blade traced a straight line with a hazy streak of light.

CLANG!

The Desolate Sword collided with the greatsword. Monstrous power surged down the blade.

The vibration shook the hilt, making his gripping hand ache.

'His sword force is on another level.'

Jung Yeonshin clenched his teeth, his trembling hand still gripping the hilt.

He knew at once. He was outmatched in internal-energy reserves. The years they had spent accumulating qi were worlds apart.

It was a marvel he had not been cut in two along with the Desolate Sword at the instant their blades met. Such was the force of that sword.

"Your skill is remarkable. You are more than you seem."

Dokgo Gwang spoke, his neatly grown beard pulling to either side. His lips drew into a tight line. It was a warrior's astonishment—but also his composure.

He had spoken with their swords still locked. He could not have done that against an equal.

'I can't win with internal power. I have to win through skill.'

Jung Yeonshin did not prolong the deadlock. He twisted his body at once.

SCREEEECH!

The Desolate Sword slid down Dokgo Gwang's greatsword. The sensation transmitted into his hand was extraordinarily rough.

Something beyond the blade itself enveloped the sword: core energy given tangible form.

It meant the man had mastered a true greatsword art. In Murim, greatswords existed to break shields of core energy. They crushed armor made of internal energy—Protective Aura, protective force qi, and the like—with sword qi and sword force.

Jung Yeonshin's mastery of Protective Aura was not particularly deep. The instant that sword touched him, it would cleave through flesh and bone.

'I'd better avoid clashing blades.'

The thought passed through Jung Yeonshin's mind as he wheeled like a leaf on the wind. Dokgo Gwang's heavy kick brushed his waist.

A massive qi wave erupted near his flank. The aftershock of the Burst Discharge, like an exploding Thunderclap Bomb, sent his upper body reeling.

At the same time, the man's kick became a forceful stamp. Planting his foot, he swung his sword as though to bisect Jung Yeonshin at the waist.

It seemed laden with monstrous core energy. Unable to withstand the sword force, the air howled.

It was terrifying. While releasing internal power surpassing Yeonshin's, he was turning every movement of his body into an attacking form.

WHOOOOSH!

The boy bent sharply backward at the waist as though lying down. It was the Iron Plank Bridge maneuver.

He had already made this form, commonly used by Murim masters, second nature.

The broad blade swept above his eyes with a stormlike roar. Its sword force was tremendous. The tips of his hair were caught in the strike and whipped upward.

'Now.'

Sky-blue qi light flashed through Jung Yeonshin's eyes. He contracted the great muscles running from his buttocks to his thighs.

The Movement Art's power settled firmly into them.

SWISH!

Dokgo Gwang's arm lay at the end of his sword's straight upward thrust. He targeted the opening before the man could recover from his horizontal swing.

The Radiant Sword Art's hazy light streaked into a straight line.

Then it happened.

Pressure burst from Dokgo Gwang's hand around the greatsword's hilt. There had been no motion to herald it.

A colorless wave of core-energy force spread in an instant.

WHOOOM!

Like a rampart suddenly rising, it came toward Jung Yeonshin as though to crush him.

Already lowered almost flat to the ground, the boy's hand stopped in the midst of sharply driving the Desolate Sword upward. For an instant, his entire body shook along with his sword.

If he lost his balance, he was finished.

Jung Yeonshin braced his left hand against the ground and lifted one foot. He kicked as swiftly as a sword flashing from its sheath.

In that fraction of a moment, he had channeled core energy into the Taichong point above his big toe.

He, too, used Burst Discharge. Imbuing his kicking technique with internal power, he delivered a short, sharp kick.

KRAAAASH!

The collision sounded as though the air itself were being crushed. They contested Burst Discharge in the domain of masters.

Dokgo Gwang now held his sword in a high guard, ready to chop Jung Yeonshin in two, while below him the boy braced acrobatically against the ground and kicked upward.

The martial forces colliding between them swept in every direction. The floor of the vast cavern split like furrows in a field, and dust rose amid fragments of stone crumbling around them.

It was a contest of core energy, a battle of Burst Discharge.

"Hmm?"

Dokgo Gwang's brows drew together slightly, his composure disturbed. The vortex of internal energy, which had seemed ready to explode at any moment, stopped expanding.

The boy's discharged force had severed his stormlike wave of force strand by strand. It was as though a wind blowing in a different direction had entered the raging whirlwind.

Such a marvel was all but impossible—unless the boy had devised and unleashed a counter to a circulation of core energy he had never seen before.

And this exchange of forms had taken place in a mere instant.

Dokgo Gwang shuddered. Was this what it felt like to behold a young spirit beast, an imugi?

"Ah, what a pity you have had so few years."

Having confirmed that the disparity in their internal power let him kill the boy whenever he wished, he paused before bringing his sword down and sighed.

Sword Scorpion Demon Dokgo Gwang had been bested in finesse. Only his strength was overwhelming. He could only regret having to kill the boy.

Jung Yeonshin pushed harder with his raised right foot.

THOOM!

He exerted force against the vortex of martial force, as physically solid as a real wall. His whole body was driven away.

The left foot supporting him slid backward, carrying him out of his position. As it did, bright-red blood trickled from his mouth. He had been unable to withstand the immense pressure.

Jung Yeonshin regained his balance and stood still. He had suffered an internal injury. The pain was severe, his organs seeming to throb inside his belly.

The boy's expression grew grave.

'I couldn't overcome the absolute disparity in internal power.'

That was true despite the density of the Movement Art's core energy. This was not an opponent he could overcome solely through a Movement Art that tempered the body.

For a master of that caliber, even a single strand of core energy held monstrous power.

"Had you accumulated even another year of achievement, who knows how this might have gone? Your perception and talent are truly hard to believe."

Dokgo Gwang spoke. Jung Yeonshin gazed steadily at him.

He could feel the supreme master's composure, masked as the magnanimity of the strong. It was an attitude in keeping with Murim's laws. Conduct difficult to fault.

"You are far too dangerous to let grow into a sword of the imperial family. Outstanding young talent, you must die here."

"..."

Jung Yeonshin silently lowered his stance, contemplating his next form.

Just then—

THUMP!

A hand gently gripped the back of his neck. It was as hard as rock. At the same time, a familiar qi wave washed over him.

A ripple of internal power like a gentle breeze. It could only be Chung Myung of the Radiant Demon Squad.

"It's admirable that you made it this far, and astonishing how strong you've become, but..."

The swift whisper brushed his ear. He sensed core energy being refined throughout the man's body even as he put words into an exhalation.

Nothing was wasted. It was the breathing of the noble race's internal martial arts.

"What would we do if our youngest died here?"

The swordsman pulled Jung Yeonshin back and flung him behind him. The boy had no intention of being forced away.

He landed at once, pivoting on his left foot. Just as he was about to leap back with the rotation of Silk-Reeling Force, a bloodless hand, wielding an icy hand technique, barred his way.

Baek Miryeo stood firmly with her back to him. Traces of fierce combat marked her long blue robe in many places. Her long hair, loose and disheveled, testified to the battle's intensity.

"Yeonshin. Treat your internal injuries first. Get your priorities straight."

Concern lay within her indifferent tone. This was not the voice she used to address the captain of the Wing-Returning Unit.

Baek Miryeo of the Radiant Demon Squad's First Team sounded just as she had when addressing the white-robed Lightning Genius.

"To think I'd see our temporary captain lose. Well, he was a worthy opponent. It would be stranger if you'd won. Sword Scorpion Demon Dokgo Gwang is a master who could dominate all of Sichuan. A powerful man who rarely finds his match."

The Supreme Flame Dragon approached with a faint smile and an unhurried stride.

His appearance was anything but relaxed. Just how much blazing yang power had he unleashed?

Both sleeves had vanished without a trace. Sword wounds and bloodstains covered the bare flesh they exposed.

"I'll stand guard for you."

He took his place beside Baek Miryeo, his back as solid as a volcano.

Farther out stood the Tang siblings and the other Tang Clan warriors. Of the Wing-Returning Unit, Hong Joogeom guarded the rear.

Everyone else was locked in fierce combat.

"Founding master, regulate your breathing and circulate your energy."

The boy knew he had no choice.

"All right."

Recovery did have to come first. He decided to trust Chung Myung. When he had first joined the Radiant Demon Squad, he had heard that Chung Myung had briefly held his own against the Namgoong First Sword, who had defected to the Thirteen skies.

'Then, here, I can work on the new internal martial art...'

He recalled the transformation of core energy he had been too busy rushing onward to attempt. It was ironic.

If he had time to regulate his breathing and circulate his energy enough to soothe his internal injuries, he would have time to create an internal martial art alongside it.

Just then—

"The treasure plaque! The treasure plaque's been taken!"

"Southeast of the entrance! There, over there!"

"An absolutely terrifying master! Form ranks!"

Shouts of alarm rang out in the distance. An uproar spread across the already chaotic battlefield.

Jung Yeonshin had not even sat cross-legged yet. An immense power rushed toward him amid irregular ripples of core energy.

The presence was elegant and sinister, like a bat with the wings of a divine bird.

'It's coming this way!'

FLAP!

It reached him the instant he perceived it, accompanied by a bodily scent like blood.

"I've missed you."

Black hair billowing like silk briefly obscured his vision. The owner of that uncanny qi stood before Jung Yeonshin's face.

Her red lips traced a smooth curve. Her eerily gleaming crimson eyes curved gently with her smile.

The Blood Flame Cult's Seventh Apostle.

In a single instant, the defensive formation of the Desolate Fortress masters had been penetrated.

"Wha...!"

Jung Yeonshin saw the useless Supreme Flame Dragon turn in astonishment.

Baek Miryeo reacted faster, but the wound through her back had left her movements sluggish.

At a flick of the Seventh Apostle's fingers, the Tang siblings and Hong Joogeom stiffened and fell. Finger wind from her fingertips had sealed their pressure points.

By then, Jung Yeonshin was already attacking. His blue sleeve fluttered.

A gale gathered around his outthrust fist. Formidable Wall, the second form of the Infinite Blossom Hand, shot forth with ferocious power.

"Your talent, your presence, your expression, your body. Every time we meet, they've been polished to an even greater brilliance. Up close, you shine. It's truly, truly intoxicating."

The Seventh Apostle whispered as she extended a hand slightly and caught and deflected Jung Yeonshin's punch.

FLAP!

The pure-blood robe draped around her spread wide.

Rising of its own accord in the storm of core energy, it veiled their surroundings in crimson. It lasted only an instant.

At its center were Jung Yeonshin and the Seventh Apostle. No one could see them.

At the same time, her hand slid down his punching arm. Was it because she was not human?

Her hand was soft, as though she had never trained in fist and palm arts.

She pushed his elbow inward and covered his lips with her other hand. It happened in an instant.

"...!"

Something foreign entered his mouth.

The Seventh Apostle's fingers, which had lingered briefly on his lips, slid down his cheek, all the way to his neck.

He tried to twist his body while employing the Movement Art. Too late. His internal injury had slowed his reaction.

Until the moment her hand pressed lightly against his Adam's apple and withdrew, he could not counter a single move.

Her speed was tremendous. Every exchange had taken place in the realm of the Desolate Fortress's black robes.

"Live out your natural lifespan. It's a fragment of Bodhidharma's core energy."

The Seventh Apostle's lips moved. Returning of its own accord, the pure-blood robe wrapped around her once more.

"We still have to finish, don't we? Our wager, I mean. See you later."

With a soft smile, she kicked off the ground. For an instant, the wind spreading in every direction seemed tinged with red.

No one could stop her as she soared with her sublime Mobility Arts. The Supreme Flame Dragon landed belatedly, his eyes blank with bewilderment.

"What in the...? Captain, are you alive?"

"Stand guard."

Jung Yeonshin spoke curtly. He could do nothing else.

The moment whatever the Seventh Apostle had fed him entered his body, tremendous inspiration billowed like clouds.

He knew instinctively. Without this, he would not escape the City of Master Artisans.

"Senior So! To the rear!"

"Form ranks! The radiant demon arts don't work on the Pure Demon Alliance bastards!"

The battlefield was in chaos. The number of warriors guarding him had dwindled sharply.

Only the injured Baek Miryeo and the unranked disciple, the Supreme Flame Dragon, remained nearby.

Jung Yeonshin closed his eyes and sat cross-legged.

At that same moment, a flower of light bloomed in his upper dantian. Its radiance filled his mind.