'A fragment of Bodhidharma's core energy?'

It was the treasure that had dwelled within the City of Master Artisans' treasure plaque. A halo of light spread through the boy's upper dantian.

Spiritual nature, they had called it. Something that elevated weapons into the realm of divine arms.

'This is...'

A firebomb exploded inside his head. That was how violent the inspiration was. It seemed to draw out every last measure of the boy's innate gifts.

Great Master Bodhidharma. Images of pure Buddhist martial arts surged upward, yet his Baihui point suffered no strain.

Was Bodhidharma's core energy making up for the disadvantage of his shortened life?

The instant he sat cross-legged, everything else was driven from his mind. Detached was the right word for it.

The battlefield, Ma Jin's left arm, the Desolate Fortress warriors being helplessly driven back, even the Seventh Apostle's bizarre behavior.

To complete a martial art capable of changing the course of battle, he could allow no gaps in his concentration. He quieted his mind.

He thought of adopting the mindset of a craftsman here in the iron race's City of Master Artisans.

The teaching the Tang clan head had cheerfully imparted came back to him vividly. It had been a conversation with Heon Wonchang.

["Put your soul into every hammer blow, and the weapon acquires spiritual nature. That is how the divine swords and wondrous weapons people speak of are made."]

["Made...? What exactly is spiritual nature?"]

["An intent so faint as to be almost imperceptible to human eyes, yet a power distinct from internal energy. A wondrous quality. Only craftsmen who have attained the requisite mastery can handle it."]

["Are you praising yourself?"]

["Imagine a chipped piece of metal repairing itself. How great an achievement it is to create such a divine weapon! Like the giant Pangu of the creation myth, we create life with human hands."]

What Jung Yeonshin sought to make now was also a wondrous divine weapon.

A foundation that would let him withstand the Fruit of the World Tree and carry him to a higher realm. He would breathe life into a martial art.

'The rate of qi accumulation is crucial. I have to approach this as though I'm creating the fastest, most stable mental cultivation method under heaven. Even if I can't truly achieve that.'

Immersed in meditation, Jung Yeonshin contemplated the Baihui point at the crown of his head.

It was as thick as the upper dantian connected directly beneath it. He felt the end of his life in its entirety, now little more than three years away.

To survive, he had to go beyond black and reach purple. Attaining the Divine Sword Squad Leader's rank was a separate matter.

Merely taking that position would not send merit points pouring into his lap.

He also had to establish grounds that would leave the Desolate Fortress Master no choice but to grant him the Fruit of the World Tree.

The world the boy saw had only three years left. There was a fixed deadline.

The moment would come when the world ended. He would die. That was why this very instant mattered.

'Today, I have to become the equal of the black-robed supreme masters.'

This mental cultivation method was his means to that end.

He had already devised the energy-circulation routes. His conception was meticulous.

From the Demonic Asura Blood Art to the Moon Spirit Harmonization Art, he had dismantled every formula of the internal martial arts that so many would covet.

He understood what effects arose from the circulation routes through his body's pressure points and the intent of each mental cultivation method.

He had broken down their effects and devised new routes.

The boy had finished his preparations before coming to the City of Master Artisans. By completing the circulation routes, he had built the framework.

All he awaited was the inspiration that would put the finishing touch on an internal martial art perfectly suited to his body.

Intent.

The union of mental imagery and energy circulation was called a mental cultivation method. The mind harmonized with the energy of nature to produce internal energy.

'All it needs is the final touch that brings it to life,' Jung Yeonshin thought.

He conceived the first formula. The intent of qi accumulation. With all his yearning, he sought to draw in and release the energy of the natural world.

The words came easily. For the boy, there was only one all-consuming desire.

[With the passing sunset, another day is lost.

The ebb and flow of sun and moon is like a current, yet this body is less than a salmon fighting upstream.

I yearn to defy heaven, yet follow its providence. However I struggle, I cannot turn against it.]

The formula of an internal martial art that did not yet have a name. Its first passage evoked the intent of the new mental cultivation method.

SHHHH...

A response came as he raised his intent alongside his circulating energy. Nature's qi began to rise with his inhalation.

That was no different from usual. What followed was the problem.

Worldly attachments.

His mind was cluttered. With his present breathing, he could not complete the exchange of energy. The qi dispersed before it finished accumulating.

The residual powers throughout his body were all disparate as well.

The Movement Art, Moon Spirit Harmonization Art, Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike, Demonic Asura Blood Art... It was because his internal martial art was not yet complete.

He needed one final insight to link their flows together.

'I have to weave them together with the teachings of the Diamond Sutra.'

Great Master Bodhidharma's spiritual nature was with him. Might he be able to do it now?

KEEEEN!

His upper dantian honed every sensation in his body and strengthened the intent guiding his core energy.

Through his Baihui point, which kept opening endlessly regardless of his will, a truly infinite power flowed into him.

As his consciousness heightened, Jung Yeonshin's own innate energy rose as well.

WHOOOSH!

His Baihui point filled with light. Even the fragment of Great Master Bodhidharma's spiritual nature filled it and broke through.

At this very moment, it was widening once again. He paid it no mind. That was all right.

Great Master Bodhidharma's manifestation body mingled with Jung Yeonshin's intent. A perfect harmony.

He recalled the teachings of the Diamond Sutra.

'Let the mind arise without abiding anywhere. Let the mind flow where it will. Simply know, without attachment.'

Then mental imagery would finally take shape. Devotion cultivated through the mind was what made an internal martial art.

'Ah.'

To truly experience what one already knew was also enlightenment. The flower of light inside his head blossomed fully.

It spun tautly like a wheel, drawing nature's energy into itself.

With his eyes closed, the boy thought.

... His worldly attachment was nothing other than the desire to burn through his brief cycle of life.

Then it was only right to borrow the Buddha's wheel and use it as a stepping stone.

'That is why it is the Radiant Wheel.'

At that thought, the energies scattered throughout his body blazed incandescent in a single hue.

His eyelids were shut, yet his vision turned white. The brilliance was almost painfully dazzling.

But he paid it no mind. The boy's consciousness continued to whisper.

If his ordained fate was heaven's law, then someday he would surpass that law.

'That is why it is Dharma-Surpassing.'

Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel.

He bestowed a name upon his internal martial art. Before the mysteries of the world, he defined its identity.

At last, the finishing touch brought it to life. Bodhidharma's spiritual nature and Jung Yeonshin's overlaid the formless martial art.

The Movement Art was a martial discipline for tempering the body.

What he sought to create now was different. He fused the profound principles of the Movement Art with the functions of a mental cultivation method.

Qi accumulation and energy circulation, operating at all times.

A torrent of light rose within him. It raced through his fine meridians, main meridians, and pressure points.

One immense quality imbued every energy within his body, sending them surging. The core energy of the Demonic Asura Blood Art became numinous.

The Movement Art, Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike, and Moon Spirit Harmonization Art melted into one in the furnace of his internal martial art.

Blood-art core energy and orthodox core energy.

Like different beasts transforming into spirit beasts, his internal power acquired spiritual nature and became core energy of an entirely different order.

Jung Yeonshin knew instinctively that they could smoothly merge into one at any time, or violently divide into two.

It was a wholly different realm.

'Now that you are one...'

He clearly envisioned the outline he desired. With his consciousness, he seized the spiritual nature and molded it into a tangible form.

At the same time, he gave it a concept he could clearly recognize whenever he wished. Just like the craftsmen of the City of Master Artisans.

'I shall call you Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Qi, and make you the measure by which I face the world!'

He shouted with his soul. An immense echo reverberated through the realm of his mental imagery.

HUMMM!

"What just happened?"

"Acting captain! Are you all right?"

Baek Miryeo's and the Supreme Flame Dragon's voices brushed his ears.

The white currents enveloping the cross-legged Jung Yeonshin converged on a single point.

Around his solar plexus—his middle dantian. A whirlwind raged.

The wheel turning within his mental imagery grew distinct. It settled inside his heart and took shape.

HUMMMM!

The resonance was deafening.

A ring of light. The driving force of his new internal martial art.

He had taken it straight from Buddhist mythology. The wheel of the Wheel-Turning Sage King was said to advance without hindrance.

It raced onward, shattering mountains and rocks to spread the teachings.

'This is my divine weapon.'

Jung Yeonshin opened his eyes. There was something he could feel distinctly without even looking inward.

The radiant wheel within his heart was beating.

* * *

When Jung Yeonshin raced ahead alone and broke formation, Namgoong Hwashin led the Wing-Returning Unit into battle. Four blue-robed experts, including Hong Joogeom, rushed out after Jung Yeonshin.

No one but the White Qilin was fit to act as deputy leader. They could hardly entrust the role to the Supreme Flame Dragon.

"The Ten Perfections Sect bastards brought their finest elites!"

"Their skills are exceptional! Avoid crossing blades—take the exchange with the Swift Sword Formula!"

The Wing-Returning Unit soon scattered. There were too many enemies of equal strength.

The fundamental difference between the Thirteen skies and the Desolate Fortress lay in their numbers of warriors.

The Desolate Fortress was overwhelmingly larger than any individual great sect of the Thirteen skies, but against all of them combined, it was outnumbered.

This was the latter case.

'We have to take the leaders' heads,' Namgoong Hwashin thought. It was the natural conclusion.

He turned his gaze toward the very center of the fierce fighting.

Jung Yeonshin, vomiting blood, was pulled away by the azure-eyed demonic swordsman, and the Blood Flame Cult's Seventh Apostle carried out some sort of trick.

On this battlefield, it was impossible to predict even the next instant. Namgoong Hwashin's emotions lurched wildly.

Amid it all, the azure-eyed demonic swordsman Chung Myung struggled to deflect Sword Scorpion Demon Dokgo Gwang's greatsword. It did not look easy.

The Desolate Sword of the swordsman counted among the finest blue robes had already lost much of its edge in motion.

His movements were sluggish. He was barely holding out with the noble race's innate ability to summon wondrous winds.

'They must have been at a disadvantage for more than seven days and nights. It's amazing he's held out this long.'

An impressive senior.

Chung Myung was a very famous master.

He drew a firm distinction between those he liked and those he did not, and enjoyed the unspoken influence that came with being a pure-blooded member of the noble race.

Yet even that man, always so at ease, had been reduced to this.

'If we crumble any further, we'll truly have no chance of winning.'

Namgoong Hwashin ran, swift as an arrow. The azure sky seemed captured in his fluttering blue robe.

Unleashing the secret movement technique of the Boundless Flowing Body to its fullest, he reached the center of the battlefield in an instant.

His skin tingled from the Sword Scorpion Demon's formidable qi waves.

"The Desolate Fortress. A den of demons indeed."

The beard covering Sword Scorpion Demon Dokgo Gwang's lips curled upward. He had just violently knocked Chung Myung's Desolate Sword aside.

The noble-race swordsman somersaulted far backward through the air. The sword force was terrifying.

Even the newly arrived Namgoong Hwashin's hair whipped wildly.

"Far too many exceptional young talents. The imperial family's sword must not be so sharp. You should all die here," Dokgo Gwang said.

Murderous intent tinged his indifferent tone. He swung his greatsword forward again. The stroke was heavy. Though he was no member of the noble race, the wind bursting from his sword swept forward like a cannonball.

BOOOM!

Namgoong Hwashin met the sword wind with his Desolate Sword. He could not dodge.

His white-robed junior Shin Binbin had followed him and was hovering anxiously out of concern for him.

The colliding waves of core energy scattered in every direction, sweeping dust outward across the floor of the vast cavern.

"Urgh!"

A groan escaped him. The wave of force Jung Yeonshin had endured was truly heavy.

It hardly felt like a human being's ultimate technique. It was clearly a level above Namgoong Hwashin. This was the realm of the black robes.

Chung Myung returned at once, and his sword path and Namgoong Hwashin's traced twin trajectories.

CLANG! CLANG!

Dokgo Gwang's greatsword had a blade seven-tenths the length of his height.

It was an unconventional weapon—an unusual armament used by only a few even among martial artists—yet he wielded that enormous blade with overwhelming naturalness.

Alongside irresistible power, exquisite precision lived in every sword form. A single thrust took off the upper part of Chung Myung's ear.

BOOM!

Only his quick reaction had limited the damage to that.

The noble race's wind had carried Chung Myung's evasive movement, yet mere fragments of martial force exploding from Dokgo Gwang's sword form had drawn blood.

Even then, the assault did not stop. After the thrust came a slash, straight to the side.

The massive blade bore down on Namgoong Hwashin.

At that instant, Namgoong Hwashin was pushing the ground backward beneath him.

The sword strike's wave of force ripped apart the front of his blue martial robe with a tearing shriek. He had barely evaded it.

The Namgoong clan's Infinite Steps.

'We can't win. His breathing is different.'

He thought this as a sharp ache ran through his chest.

A master's breathing testified to the level of their martial arts. They released a form on the exhalation and raised their internal energy anew on the inhalation.

That cycle of executing sword forms was the measure of a swordsman's ability.

Dokgo Gwang's breathing clearly surpassed both Namgoong Hwashin's and Chung Myung's. The number of sword strikes he unleashed in a single instant was different.

Power, finesse, breathing.

It was hopeless. He could not keep up at all. Once again, he felt the helplessness that had become so familiar of late.

It had been the same when Jung Yeonshin killed his half brother Namgoong Sejin, and when Divine Sword Squad deputy leader Ak Surim knocked him unconscious.

'If only I were a black robe.'

The Desolate Fortress's black robes occupied the realm of supreme masters. Even across a territory comparable to a small kingdom, they would struggle to find a worthy opponent.

It was usually from this realm that irreverent, self-crowned epithets such as Sword King and Fist King arose.

"The lands outside suffer one poor harvest after another, but today's City of Master Artisans offers a splendid yield. To think I would take so many heads of the Desolate Fortress's rising masters. Fortune favors me. This makes up for the treasure plaque that Blood Flame Cult witch stole. It was the Pure Demon Alliance's debt anyway."

Dokgo Gwang spoke with arrogant composure, his greatsword planted in the ground.

He was taking his time. His manner said he had no reason to hurry.

Ignoring it, Namgoong Hwashin steadied his breathing.

This was no time to ponder the secret agreement between the Ten Perfections Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance. Chung Myung approached, breathing wearily.

"White Qilin, was it? I remember you. A promising junior."

"Senior Demonic Swordsman."

"The Ten Perfections Sect trains in all eighteen categories of weapons. An unrivaled master from the military founded it. In a way, they're rather like the Radiant Demon Squad. My radiant demon arts fall short of his weapon skills. I've even seen him suddenly throw a dagger while wielding that greatsword. He's proficient with fists and feet too, so watch your distance. He's a monster you can't solve by moving into close-quarters unarmed combat either."

"... Yes."

"He doesn't seem particularly fond of his subordinates. The Tang clan head's running wild, yet he's perfectly relaxed. You can never quite figure these Sichuan bastards out. Well, we're grateful for it. Let's look for an opening. Though I'm... worried about the captain."

Chung Myung glanced across the battlefield. The one-armed Ma Jin moved precariously.

He was struggling to evade the Pure Demon Divine Hand's fist and palm arts.

Dokgo Gwang laughed.

"Words and conduct befitting the exalted noble race. You know nothing at all. To master all eighteen branches of our sect's martial arts, one must survive the brink of death. If the diminished Tang clan head obliges them, I should be grateful. How much stronger will the surviving disciples become? I'm already keeping track of the proper timing, so you need only show me the Desolate Fortress's martial arts."

There was a barb in those words.

The Ten Perfections Sect was also famous for its countering forms. It was said to exploit the gaps in great sects' martial arts with every sort of weapon.

Here and now, he was simply toying with them. He was making full use of the martial world's principle that the strong reigned supreme.

Why was the Ten Perfections Sect counted among the Thirteen skies? His words and actions laid bare the ways of an unorthodox master.

It happened then.

ROOOAR!

An overwhelming roar of displaced air resounded from behind them. It was like a gale echoing through a deep gorge.

At the same time, a pure-white flash shot between Chung Myung and Namgoong Hwashin. A storm struck them a moment later.

WHOOOOSH!

It was Jung Yeonshin, pure-white radiance streaming from both eyes. This was no leaflike movement technique.

As though unable to contain his overflowing power, he charged forward, tearing the very air apart.

Dokgo Gwang's eyes flew wide as he raised his greatsword.

CLAAANG!

An explosion shook the cavern. The Desolate Sword collided with the greatsword. It was not over.

Still gripping the hilt, Jung Yeonshin twisted his legs. With their blades locked, his wrist worked a deft maneuver.

He diverted the force to the side. It was the force-transforming sword form he had devised immediately after the Thunderclap Bomb attack.

Dokgo Gwang's greatsword swept past Jung Yeonshin's head and dropped. The boy did not even blink.

He raised his brows toward the flank now exposed before him. White light blazed from his eyes.

'Is he human...?!'

For the first time, Dokgo Gwang's eyes widened. He felt a sword force he could scarcely suppress anymore.

Could a human being change this much? He hurriedly detonated the core energy at his Yongquan point.

His leg rose at once, moving with extreme speed. He intended to release a Burst Discharge through a crushing knee strike.

At that instant, Jung Yeonshin's left hand emerged. He had been preparing this form since rising from his cross-legged seat.

He had begun executing it on his way over. For this one instant, its characteristic weakness—the time required to execute it—had become meaningless.

Its other flaw was precision, but Jung Yeonshin extended his hand without concern.

Its combat path led in a straight line to Dokgo Gwang's flank.

Radiant River.

The immense power swirling in his palm was staggering. Its mere aftereffects extended a destructive dominion over the surrounding space.

The earth around them shook violently. Streams of spiraling force gouged, pounded, and collapsed the cavern floor.

They did so until the moment of impact.

With overwhelming power, he compensated for the imprecision of his strike.

For an instant, Namgoong Hwashin saw his elder brother. He felt the king-style sword arts.

The figure of Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin seemed to merge and overlap with the spirit of Blue Qilin Namgoong Sejin.

It was an instant. A realm where a single move made all the difference.

A colorless shield of core energy formed at Dokgo Gwang's waist. His control over internal energy was astonishing.

It was protective force qi, its texture so hard that it looked like glass.

For a moment, Dokgo Gwang's gaze met Jung Yeonshin's.

"...!"

Dokgo Gwang's eyes widened as though they would tear apart.

A master's sudden flash of insight. He sensed his own death.

The boy's indifferently shining eyes advanced without hesitation, pure-white radiance churning over his palm.

KABOOOOOM!

A direct hit. It exploded upon touching the core-energy shield at his flank. For an instant, the City of Master Artisans shook.

The monstrous impact resounded in every direction. The echoes pressed upon the air as though they had taken physical form.

It was not over. Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin burst through the immense cloud of dust.

Blood and dust swirled together behind his streaming robe.

Beyond the pale opening he left behind, Dokgo Gwang's upper body was flying through the air. He had died instantly.

He wielded light. He was living up to his epithet. His Mobility Arts had become astonishingly fast.

Fast enough to slip between Radiant Demon Squad captain Ma Jin and the Pure Demon Alliance's Pure Demon Divine Hand in an instant.

CRACK!

The knife-hand strike descending toward Ma Jin's right arm was stopped. A smaller hand had caught it.

Jung Yeonshin's grappling technique. He had seized a strike from the Pure Demon Alliance supreme master's fist and palm arts.

"What... are you...?"

The blond, blue-eyed Pure Demon Divine Hand asked, his voice breaking into clipped fragments.

Sensing the ominous qi waves, he had been trying to finish his fight quickly.

He and Ma Jin were the only ones who had not stopped fighting when Radiant River exploded.

Silence had already fallen.

The fighting on the battlefield had stopped.

The gazes of masters from great factions—the Desolate Fortress, Pure Demon Alliance, Ten Perfections Sect, Tang Clan, and Beggars' Sect—as well as warriors from countless smaller sects, converged without a sound.

On this spot, at the very center.

"You are extraordinary. I must kill you here."

The Demonic Path master's words were that blunt and audacious.

Pure Demon Divine Hand Ha Yulgeuk poured core energy into his knife hand. Terrifying waves of demonic-art qi sprang forth.

They were strong enough to send the surrounding air into erratic currents. Yet Jung Yeonshin's hand did not budge.

Only his grip tightened.

Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Qi.

An energy that constantly held the Dharma power of Buddhism.

"..."

Jung Yeonshin said nothing.

Holding the knife hand that had taken his maternal uncle's arm, he flashed pure-white radiance from both eyes.

The young Grandmaster had begun to breathe through a divine technique.