The Seventh Apostle's eyes curved softly. Whether she had read Jung Yeonshin's lips, he could not tell.

She took a light step. With only a slight turn of her body, she slowly concealed herself in the cavern's darkness, as though drawing the night air around her. Her movements possessed an uncanny grace.

Turning her head, she winked one crimson eye at him again, but the boy merely blinked. Unsure how to respond, he simply studied her uniquely mysterious Mobility Arts.

'Blood-art core energy enveloped her entire body. Three Flowers Gather at the Crown... Is that a realm where intent and internal energy become one?'

Footwork, movement techniques, lightness skills. He recognized that he had yet to properly create any of them. For now, he was using the principles behind Chung Myung's movements and the general-purpose Mobility Arts from the Desolate Fortress's Gold-Piercing Martial Repository.

Creating the actual forms of steps and bodily movements was another matter entirely.

"We're moving out," Ma Jin said.

The Desolate Fortress masters, the Tang Clan, the Beggars' Sect, and the residents of the City of Master Artisans began moving together.

They were leaving the city. The once-solid ground had grown loose beneath their feet, battered by the masters' raging waves of force. The crunch of pulverized stone echoed hollowly with their steps. Behind them, the corpses of the Thirteen Skies masters lay in bleak silence.

Walking beside Ma Jin, Jung Yeonshin sank into thought.

He did not know what to make of the Seventh Apostle. Their debts and grudges were tangled indeed. Their having exchanged potentially fatal blows was not the issue. Such were the relationships between masters pursuing the depths of martial learning.

The real problem was the Elder Council Leader, whose whereabouts remained unknown. He had reportedly been pursuing the Seventh Apostle. She needed to be questioned about that.

The same applied to her position as the Blood Flame Cult Leader's servant.

When Yeonshin had entered their headquarters as Grand Preceptor, the Blood Flame Cult's Third Apostle had mentioned the Jeong Clan Estate. If an Apostle knew of the incident, the only person who could have authorized the order to exterminate the family was the Cult Leader.

The evil cult's nobles were swords wielded by its leader. It was only right to treat her as an enemy. If they fought, he would have to strike without hesitation.

Yet what had happened in the City of Master Artisans was another matter.

'She did save our lives. If I hadn't had Great Master Bodhidharma's core energy then...'

They would all have been wiped out.

Before mastering the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art, Jung Yeonshin had been weak. He was no match for Dokgo Gwang, the Sword Scorpion Demon. He could picture himself lasting a few exchanges before being overwhelmed by the man's sword force.

His internal injuries had even allowed the Seventh Apostle to subdue him. Instead of bestowing that extraordinary opportunity upon him, she could have killed him.

A fragment of core energy containing Bodhidharma's spiritual nature would provoke bloodshed the moment word of it spread beyond the City of Master Artisans. Two great sects of the Thirteen Skies had driven the Radiant Demon Squad into a corner to obtain that treasure.

Great Master Bodhidharma's manifestation-body treasure plaque.

All martial arts under heaven come from Shaolin, as the saying went. This was the spiritual nature of the Grandmaster who had founded Shaolin's Chan tradition.

She had given Jung Yeonshin a treasure of unparalleled rarity instead of keeping it herself? No ordinary mind could have conceived of doing so.

'There doesn't seem to be any other explanation,' the boy thought.

The Blood Flame Cult's Seventh Apostle had been asking him to create a divine technique all along, and now she had even handed him the manifestation body. She valued perfecting her martial arts above energy itself. It was the attitude of an ascetic devoted solely to pursuing the martial path.

Was she truly a noble of the Blood Flame Cult, whose members habitually drained others' essence? He did not know. She was nothing but questions.

They said one needed clarity when dealing with the debts and grudges of the martial world. Both the kindness and the enmity were clear. What should he do?

"Excuse me... Young Master."

The voice was cautious. He raised his head to find a short boy beside him: Tang Yeohwa, the Poison Dragon. Walking right beside him was Tang Ryeoryeo, the Poison Phoenix.

She was smoothing the short hair covering her nape, her hesitant manner nothing like when they had first met. Jung Yeonshin had never seen people behave this way toward him. Both siblings were doing it.

He gazed steadily at them.

"What is it?"

"Ah, Young Master. No, great hero. Well..."

Tang Yeohwa stumbled over his words. Was it because he had witnessed Yeonshin defeat and kill the Sword Scorpion Demon and the Pure Demon Divine Hand? Extreme caution colored his every word and movement.

His furtive upward glances seemed filled with admiration. Watching beside him, Tang Ryeoryeo furrowed her brow as though finding him pathetic. Yet when she lightly stepped forward herself, she could scarcely meet Jung Yeonshin's eyes either. She merely murmured,

"Young Master Jung, might you and the people of the Desolate Fortress come to our clan estate? If you need many physicians, there are few places in Sichuan that can match the Tang Clan. We're also the closest to the City of Master Artisans."

The Sichuan Tang Clan was a martial family specializing in poisons and hidden weapons. Any distinguished martial family that cultivated poison arts inevitably possessed a thorough knowledge of medicine as well. Even the greatest divine physician could not separate poison from medicine.

"The Tang Clan? Can we trust the Tang Clan?" Heon Wonchang abruptly interjected.

It was because of the Radiant Demon Squad's mission: to investigate whether the Tang Clan was manufacturing Thunderclap Bombs. Suspecting them of treason, he seemed afraid they would be crawling straight into a tiger's jaws.

The decision, however, belonged to Ma Jin.

Jung Yeonshin held out fragments of stone before his maternal uncle. They were already swirling in a strange pattern through the formulas of attraction and release. Bewilderment crossed Ma Jin's scar-covered face.

The captain of the Radiant Demon Squad had broad experience of the martial world. He recognized the introductory skill of Blossoms Raining Across the Sky.

"Yes. I suppose even this could happen..."

With a hollow chuckle, he continued.

"Then we can summon the Tang Clan to the Desolate Fortress's Sichuan branch. Entering the Tang Clan's stronghold ourselves would be a risk. With our forces in this condition, we cannot know what trap devices or poison formations might be hidden there."

As he spoke, Ma Jin glanced bitterly at the empty space below his left shoulder and then at his subordinates. Jung Yeonshin silently nodded and looked at the Tang siblings.

"..."

They were truly treating the Tang Clan masters, who lorded over vast Sichuan, as mere physicians.

Yet the siblings could say nothing. Before them stood a supremely powerful master who possessed Blossoms Raining Across the Sky. That rain of flowers filling the heavens had long been the Tang Clan's cherished dream. No master would put pride first when faced with a divine technique symbolizing the legitimacy of their martial lineage.

They had no choice but to accept Ma Jin's request. Watching Jung Yeonshin's reactions, Tang Yeohwa and Tang Ryeoryeo began chattering.

"They'll probably come carrying every medicine and poison they can lay their hands on. It's been our elders' lifelong ambition..."

"You may rest assured, Young Master Jung. The Tang Clan would never do anything foolish with our family's peerless secret art before us. We also draw a clear distinction between kindness and enmity. We'll treat you in accordance with the martial world's principles and propriety."

Jung Yeonshin thanked them. His gaze had already drifted behind him. A middle-aged blue-robed expert who had lost her left arm was smiling at him.

Oh Wolhyang. His senior in the Radiant Demon Squad. The woman who had treated him like a son.

"Yeonshin, dear, stop frowning. People won't follow you if you look so unapproachable. Even if you're as handsome as Song Yu of Chu, you won't become a great leader that way. You're looking toward the black rank now, aren't you?"

"... Senior Oh."

"Such a long face. And you're going to grow into such a fine young man."

Oh Wolhyang came up behind him and stroked the back of his head with her remaining hand. Her palm was thick with calluses, yet it felt extraordinarily gentle.

It was the warmth of the Radiant Demon Squad.

"Father will be paying us a visit. I'll need to make a human-skin mask."

The Tang clan head, who had been silently watching the siblings from one side, muttered to himself. He meant the retired head of the Sichuan Tang Clan.

At the same moment, a silken voice tickled Jung Yeonshin's mind.

"Beware of the Cult Leader, my big, young Grand Preceptor."

The Seventh Apostle's sound transmission briefly rang out and faded. Her voice was curious. Concern colored her mention of the Cult Leader, while amusement accompanied the words "big" and "young."

Jung Yeonshin did not bother looking for her. The radiant wheel had already told him: like a bat's cry, the sound transmission had come from beyond the range of his energy detection.

'I should pay attention to qi accumulation.'

The boy thought this as he mulled over the Seventh Apostle's words.

* * *

The Desolate Fortress's Kuizhou branch, eastern Sichuan.

A man stood atop a hall's roof with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the city. Dressed in blue martial robes, he seemed to relish the feel of their hems fluttering in the wind.

Even from a distance, the robes bearing the black character for "desolation" inspired admiration. A group of children walking down the street with sweets in their mouths stared blankly up at him.

'I hope nothing goes wrong.'

Jang Ildo, the Kuizhou branch's only blue-robed expert, spared them no glance. He was the branch leader.

He accommodated masters of the Divine Sword Squad's seventeen squads who came from the main fortress, and tended to the local people's welfare with his branch's own forces as far as their strength allowed.

Every sect in Sichuan's Kuizhou Prefecture treated Jang Ildo, the Towering Sword, with the utmost courtesy. Sect leaders often rushed out in their stockinged feet to greet him. This was true even though the Kuizhou branch's strength fell far short of the main fortress's combat units.

With the Desolate Fortress behind him, such respect was only his due.

'Things have felt strange lately.'

Recently, the attitudes of the various martial sects had undergone a curious change. It had probably begun after rumors spread that the Namgoong direct line had been slaughtered by a rising disciple of the Desolate Fortress and the Divine Sword Squad Leader. Or perhaps it had been after the Hwangbo clan's extermination.

It was not something Jang Ildo could do anything about just then.

Born in Sichuan, he had been content with becoming a blue-robed warrior of the Desolate Fortress. While living in that quiet contentment, he had been truly horrified when the Radiant Demon Squad and the other masters from the main fortress arrived.

Few of them could walk uninjured. The crowd of rarely seen iron-race people following them had been another surprise.

'The main building became a madhouse.'

Before fleeing outside, he had instructed the servants and his subordinates to attend to their guests with the utmost care. After sending a mounted messenger to request physicians from the Sichuan Tang Clan, he had grown somewhat nervous.

He would have to host both the masters of Sichuan's foremost clan and warriors from the main fortress. It was a thoroughly troublesome business.

Yet there was another reason he now stood alone upon the sloping, curved roof. A letter had arrived from the main fortress.

—The martial world is in turmoil, so I have donned my long purple robes. Let the Kuizhou branch leader prepare to receive the former Divine Sword Squad Leader. You must also keep an even closer watch on the rabble of the Tang Clan and the Thirteen Skies.

His nerves had been on edge from the moment he read those words. A forgotten legend was coming in person, and today was the expected day of his arrival.

He could spare no thought for the distinguished figures in the halls below: the main fortress's masters, the iron race, the Tang Clan's direct descendants, the Beggar Heir, and the rest. Though he was intensely curious about the boy called Lightning Genius, now was not the time to think about him.

Jang Ildo anxiously bit his lip. He had displayed no such behavior before the Radiant Demon Squad captain, nor even when facing the retired head of the Sichuan Tang Clan.

That morning, the moment brilliant white sunlight settled over the highest roof, he had climbed up to stand upon its gleam. He was there to receive the man who had once been the second most exalted figure in the martial world.

Was it his imagination? He sensed a terrifying presence from the road stretching beneath the clear blue sky, despite the day's crystalline clarity.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Hh...!"

Jang Ildo's body jerked. He tried to draw his sword, only to find himself restrained. A moment later, a dull ache spread through the back of his neck. Only his eyes could move.

An old man stood beside him before he knew it. His straight white beard reached down to his solar plexus. The long purple robe draped over his sturdy frame had a stiff, upright collar. It suited his vigorous, sharp-featured countenance remarkably well.

"Is all well at the branch?"

Ma Yeonjeok asked the question slowly. Brilliant light flashed in his pitch-black eyes. He seemed capable of reining in his energy, yet deliberately chose not to.

Jang Ildo moved his eyes up and down. Cold sweat trickled down his neck.

An unapproachable personage had finally arrived at his branch. The martial power pressing against his skin was tremendous. Combined with the man's past renown, it felt like facing an irresistible storm.

A purple-robed master of the Desolate Fortress had come to Sichuan, before the province's great sects had even begun to move.

* * *

"Step down as captain of the Radiant Demon Squad. I think you had best return to the family estate."

Ma Yeonjeok spoke with Jung Yeonshin and Ma Jin both present. A delicate fragrance of tea drifted through the cozy room. Seated before a wooden tea table, he continued,

"You did well to wipe out those vermin from the Ten Perfections Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance. But we cannot leave a gap in our fighting strength. The Radiant Demon Squad should preserve the martial lineage of the radiant demon arts, but it must be reorganized."

"The iron-race master artisans said they would make prosthetic arms. Extraordinary devices that respond to internal energy."

Jung Yeonshin answered quietly. For the first time, Ma Yeonjeok's brow furrowed. Unable to bring himself to rebuke his grandson, he turned on Ma Jin instead, all but shouting.

"You have lost your left hand. That means the pressure points of the Hand Greater Yin Lung Meridian running from your arm through your body are completely gone. That will profoundly affect the circulation of internal energy throughout your body. How long will it take to regain the control over internal energy you had before losing your arm? The state of the Central Plains martial world is far from ordinary. Rather than remain an inadequate captain, shouldn't you devote yourself to rehabilitation?"

"..."

Ma Jin did not argue. He merely closed his eyes once, his expression grave. Ma Yeonjeok looked no happier.

Silence lingered for a time, until even the fragrance rising from the teacups seemed clamorous.

Slowly, Jung Yeonshin reached inside his robes. He took out a small book whose paper was exceedingly worn.

Movement Art of the Jung Clan.

The handwriting was untidy, as though written by a child. The Movement Art.

The little booklet gently pushed aside the three cups on the tea table.

"I believe this will help not only you, Uncle, but you as well, Grandfather," Jung Yeonshin said.

"It's a martial art that's good for strengthening the body. I was going to donate it for merit points anyway, so it makes no difference if you two read it first."

"...!"

Both Ma Yeonjeok and Ma Jin realized that was not the truth. Their long experience in the martial world told them so. He was not showing it to them because he happened to be donating it. It was the other way around.

Ma Jin slowly parted his lips.

"Isn't this the martial art that built your foundation?"

"Yes. I'm certain of its effectiveness."

He fell into a thoughtful silence at his nephew's answer. As Ma Yeonjeok's eyes widened, Ma Jin struggled to continue.

"This is an immense contribution. Together with your martial prowess and your achievements to date... it would merit elevation to the black rank. Without earning any further merit points."

"You can decide after you've read the secret manual. I'll take my leave. The intent in the formulas is rather like a diary."

It was his stiff way of saying he was embarrassed. The boy abruptly sprang to his feet, opened the door, and left.

After gazing after him, Ma Jin opened the secret manual's first page with his one hand. Ma Yeonjeok's shoulder touched his from the side. Before he knew it, the old man had abandoned all dignity and squeezed into the seat beside him.

Their eyes traveled down the Movement Art's formulas, beginning with the opening passage.

[Those who sleep are dead, for they forget life.

If the core energy accumulated through breathing sleeps deeply, internal energy likewise withers. I cannot understand it.

Stagnation is death. Why stop circulating energy? The internal energy in every meridian of the body must move without ceasing.

From the energy core to the Foot Reverting Yin Liver Meridian, it must form a circle of endless circulation.

Then core energy becomes a presence like a mother.

Even when I cannot see it, even when I sleep and cannot feel it, it envelops my entire body. It embraces me with such warmth.

So that I need not seek affection outside myself.

When I caress the Sea of Qi point in the lower dantian with the intent of a mother, the core energy sweeps through my entire body and returns to the Gate of Life pressure point on my back.

Along the way, it strengthens bone and muscle and firmly massages the pressure points. Because it moves without rest, it is a Movement Art.

Only by adopting this mindset when guiding core energy will it take effect.

However much I hate it, my surname is Jeong. Though I never met her, I had a mother. She must be looking down from heaven.

Since you chose the Jeong Clan Estate, Mother,

it is only right to call this the Movement Art of the Jung Clan.]

"..."

A deathly silence swept away even the fragrance of tea. For a long time, neither man could say a word.