“Blossoms Raining Across the Sky! Don't release your hidden weapons!”

“We must dispose of him quietly... Aaargh!”

Unexpected groans and screams rang through the banquet hall. The blades sent back at their owners swept through like a typhoon. A tremendous wave of force engulfed the spacious room. Amid the spurting blood, not one person could bring their martial arts to bear.

Having mastered Blossoms Raining Across the Sky, Jung Yeonshin had become the natural enemy of hidden-weapon experts. No one could approach him.

He did not even look back. The retired patriarch's condition was the most striking sight of all. He lay slumped in his chair, groaning as though the Dharma power of the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art had burned through his fine meridians.

Keeping his left hand extended to the side, Jung Yeonshin caught the ugly old man by the nape with his right and lifted him, meeting his eyes.

“Where is our Elder Council Leader?”

The boy asked without preamble. The instant he became certain of the spy's identity, a peculiar sensation passed through his upper dantian.

The closer death drew, the more uncanny the Baihui point at his crown became. The moments when it imparted something spiritual remained unpredictable, but the relevance and frequency were gradually improving.

“Heh heh.”

The retired patriarch laughed. Though facing Jung Yeonshin's eyes, he seemed to be gazing far beyond him.

“Do you know... why the Tang Clan cultivates hidden weapons and poison arts?”

His voice was remarkably lucid given his condition. He did not seem to expect an answer. Slowly, the old man continued.

“Because they demand fewer sacrifices than sword combat. The essence of Tang martial arts lies in avoiding clashes. Our ancestors had the foresight to fear that a stray blade might sever a family member's life. The uncertainties of swordplay are like fluttering petals. Even a powerful swordsman may lose his life to a weaker opponent's stroke of fortune.”

“You're admitting it in different words. I understand that you were involved with the Elder Council Leader and the Thunderclap Bombs.”

Jung Yeonshin did not indulge the retired patriarch's speech. He had already pressed a finger into a paralysis point at the back of his neck. He had to remain wary of the poison arts the bastard had mentioned. Now the retired patriarch could do nothing but move his mouth.

The old man seemed unconcerned. He simply continued with a foolish little smile.

“Concern for one's family means leaving the finest fruit uneaten, preserving it for those to come. It is a tenderness willing to endure accusations and specious claims that we cultivate cowardly methods. Our ancestors relinquished the honor of the orthodox path and wished instead for their descendants' safety and prosperity. That wish became the martial arts of the Tang Clan.”

He was finding a roundabout way to say that the ends justified the means.

Jung Yeonshin knew the breed well: scions of noble clans, consummate masters of dressing themselves up in fine words.

“You have no shame. Dharma power burned your internal energy from the evil and unorthodox paths. I can demonstrate the properties of my core energy whenever necessary. You have only two choices.”

The boy spoke evenly. There was no need to spell out the rest.

Suicide or confession. Those were the only ends available to a warrior of an orthodox sect who had plotted such villainy.

The retired patriarch's wrinkled lips curled upward. At last, his gaze truly met Jung Yeonshin's.

“You do not look like a dull child, yet you seem impatient. There is no ease in your eyes. What is pursuing you? You have caught the culprit, and my son is a splendid unfilial bastard who will choose integrity over his clan's reputation.”

“...”

“Ah... of course. Child without equal in all the ages. You have no time. Heaven is fair after all.”

It was not sarcasm. It sounded like the soliloquy of an old martial-world veteran dulled by the passing years.

The moment Blossoms Raining Across the Sky returned to the Tang Clan, its retired patriarch, Tang Taedok, had lost his reason to live. The fulfillment of his ultimate goal had instead left him drained.

His lifelong wish had been fulfilled through a boy from outside the clan, someone with whom he had shared no prior connection. Worse still, the secret art had gone to the son he had so firmly cast aside.

How must he feel? Jung Yeonshin had no interest. He had merely realized something startling.

The old man knew. He knew the constitution of this body.

His grip tightened on Tang Taedok's deeply wrinkled nape. The boy's previously calm eyes narrowed slightly.

'It was the Blood Flame Cult after all.'

The fortress's Elder Council Leader was a peerless swordsman of purple rank. He was said to be a veteran master comparable to the leaders of the Nine Great Sects. His martial prowess was far beyond the level at which he could simply vanish from the martial world against his will.

Now Yeonshin understood. The Blood Flame Cult Leader had survived and joined hands with Tang Taedok.

The intuition from his upper dantian, the Elder Council Leader's disappearance, the unorthodox internal energy Tang Taedok had cultivated, and the suspicion that the Tang Clan had manufactured the Thunderclap Bombs—all fell into place at once.

Meanwhile, Blossoms Raining Across the Sky, which had raged in every direction throughout the banquet hall, subsided.

No one remained standing.

Faced with a divine technique that was their natural bane, the Tang Clan experts lay scattered, each bearing substantial wounds. Some were down on only one knee, but even they were in no condition to move freely.

The dancers and musicians in the center had also been Tang Clan warriors. They lay fallen, struck by the very hidden weapons they had drawn.

At the head of the hall, Tang Taedok glanced past Jung Yeonshin's shoulder, and his smile deepened.

“Talent unparalleled through the ages...! Child of the Desolate Fortress, you truly are like a comet.”

“You've lost your mind.”

The boy's quiet reply failed to stop Tang Taedok's muttering.

His identity as a spy had been exposed, and his lifelong wish had been fulfilled in vain. His aged voice rang out without purpose.

“To shine through martial prowess, then fade with time—that is your heavenly destiny. I see it all the more clearly now that we face each other so closely. The Origin-Reversing Three Yang Art distinguishes medicine from poison even at a distance. That anatomical diagram was wrong. Yours is a body that traverses two hundred years in twenty. Through you, heaven's impartial law is made manifest. What truly beautiful martial talent.”

“...”

“I see why those evil cult wretches covet you. Any leader of a sect would do the same. The Desolate fortress master, that woman like a nine-tailed fox from the Classic of Mountains and Seas, must cherish and shelter you dearly. How soft is her embrace?”

“She is my teacher. Keep her out of your mouth.”

Tang Taedok chuckled.

“The way of the world makes it difficult for a child like you to grow up righteous. What a marvel. In any case, you are right. I have few courses left open to me. If I care for my clan, I must beg for leniency. Would it not be disastrous if word spread that the Tang Clan had colluded with the Blood Flame Cult?”

“Tell me. Where is he?”

“You ask where he is, not whether he lives... Your tone is so unyielding, so certain. How curious. How very curious. Another property of your upper dantian, I suppose? I should like to open your head. I sorely need to study the pressure points.”

Madness glimmered in those aged eyes. He really had lost his mind.

At this point, it was beyond Jung Yeonshin's purview. He could hardly torture a martial clan's retired patriarch in the heart of its own estate.

“Enough. Don't tell me.”

Without hesitation, the boy dragged the old man by the nape. Rendered helpless by direct exposure to the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art, Tang Taedok was hauled away without resistance.

STEP.

He passed the retired patriarch's experts as they lay groaning on the floor. No one stood in his way. He carried himself like a black-robed expert, said to be the equal of the commander of a sect's elite masters.

Beneath Jung Yeonshin's hand, the hem of Tang Taedok's golden robe dragged along the floor.

But this was no occasion to run rampant without regard for others. Jung Yeonshin propped Tang Taedok at an angle against a pillar in the banquet hall.

The old man gave a dry chuckle and looked up at him.

“Decisive in your methods, yet versed in worldly conduct. You are no fool relying on martial talent alone.”

“Quiet.”

His reply was unruffled.

Jung Yeonshin had paid attention to his reputation ever since entering the Desolate Fortress. He needed to reach the Divine Sword Squad Leader's rank. The observation that he understood worldly conduct was correct. He had no intention of creating a disadvantageous situation with his own hands.

CREEEAK.

He opened the door and stepped outside alone. Servants carrying wine bottles and dishes stared at him in alarm. They seemed to have been lingering outside after hearing the fierce battle and its surging waves of force.

Jung Yeonshin spoke calmly.

“I must ask you to summon the clan head. An unfortunate incident has occurred.”

“Y-yes, of course!”

No one dared peer inside.

After receiving the introductory skills of Blossoms Raining Across the Sky, the Tang clan head had made a declaration: Lightning Genius of the Desolate Fortress was the Sichuan Tang Clan's teacher.

That meant he was no outsider to the clan.

The Tang Clan's family precept—to repay kindness twofold and enmity tenfold—demanded a clear distinction between debts and grudges. Now that Jung Yeonshin held an exalted position within the Tang Clan as well, its household found him difficult to approach. His unusual status as a Desolate Fortress warrior had become all but irrelevant.

Two servants hurried away with short, quick steps.

Jung Yeonshin eased back against the doorpost. With his head tilted slightly upward, he remained still for half a traditional quarter-hour.

The boy gazed blankly as the summer sunlight sank beneath the dusk. A pale glow spread with the gathering twilight. It covered his whole body like a translucent blanket, tinting his hair a soft chestnut. Shadows fell along the high bridge of his nose.

The three remaining servants stood respectfully, stealing glances at him. Somehow, they managed it while maintaining the elegant deportment expected of servants in a distinguished household.

“...”

Since taking the radiant wheel into his body, Jung Yeonshin's bearing had changed. His presence grew more distinct with each passing day.

So did his features. He was a growing boy. More and more, his face showed the blood of the Master of the Jeong Clan, who had been called Pan An, and his mother Ma Yeonsang, the woman who had won such a man's heart.

Jung Yeonshin knew he was rather good-looking. It meant little to him, but it was a fact.

If it helped him attain the Divine Sword Squad Leader's seat, he was willing to put this face to use. Just as debating the sword had taught him how to entertain others.

'She told me to grow my hair once I became a master.'

Was it because of the servants' sidelong glances? The Desolate fortress master's words suddenly came to mind, then faded.

Inwardly shaking his head, the boy dispersed the idle thoughts. He had merely kept her advice in his heart. Right now, it was a distraction.

Then—

'Ah.'

He sensed people in the distance and immediately lowered his gaze.

Three small figures were approaching. They seemed to have deliberately dismissed their attendants.

The Tang clan head and the siblings known as the Twin Poisons of Dragon and Phoenix.

The sight of them had grown quite familiar now. There was even talk that the siblings were beginning their contest for succession. The clan was returning to normal.

Their expressions alone made that clear. Their delicate faces were peaceful, yet full of life.

“Benefactor, did you need something...?”

Jung Yeonshin glanced at Tang Ryeoryeo as she asked demurely, then clasped his hands in salute to the Tang clan head.

He had to cast a stone into the still waters of the peace they had found. It was an unfortunate situation.

“The retired patriarch was a spy for the Blood Flame Cult.”

He sent the words through sound transmission. Poison Lord Tang Unhwang's eyes widened as though they would tear.

* * *

The retired patriarch, Tang Taedok, was an exceptionally accomplished martial artist. Without the advantage of an opposing affinity, disabling him through a single meeting of palms would have required, at the very least, the purple realm.

That was simple common sense.

The Dharma power of the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art.

Tang Unhwang had received its intricacies through direct contact with Jung Yeonshin's palm. He knew the spiritual sensation suffusing the Radiant Wheel Art's internal energy. When Yeonshin demonstrated its wave of force before his eyes, the matter became clearer still.

“Confine the retired patriarch... and prepare to punish his grave crimes by beheading.”

Poison Lord Tang Unhwang's command was stern.

He concealed nothing. He exposed every crime of the father who had become his clan's shame. While thanking Jung Yeonshin for the consideration he had shown by reporting the matter through sound transmission, he spared no effort to reveal the whole affair.

Poison Lord.

It meant a gentleman adept in poison arts. True to his epithet, he was a great hero.

His conduct instead brought the Tang warriors together. The retired patriarch's authority collapsed, and the Tang clan head once again ruled the household.

Events proceeded swiftly.

The Tang Clan experts obeyed their head's orders. Dozens of elite warriors scoured the surrounding area, searching for the cavern where the Desolate Fortress's Elder Council Leader was imprisoned.

The elusive footwork of the Heaven-Treading Nine Firmaments Movement Art unfolded everywhere. These were masters trained in the Tang Clan's secret eye techniques. Even the distinctive energy detection of the Origin-Reversing Three Yang Art was brought to bear.

The retired patriarch had clammed up once the clan head chose not to conceal the affair, but it seemed his hideout would soon be found.

In the meantime, Jung Yeonshin received various medicinal pills through the servants—Tang Unhwang's repayment for his kindness. The boy immediately tasked Namgoong Hwashin and Heon Wonchang with transporting them to his seniors, who would still be lying in their sickbeds at the Desolate Fortress's Kuizhou branch.

“Keep yourself safe until we return. Even setting aside the Ten Perfections Sect Leader for now, who knows how the Pure Demon Alliance Leader will react? I'll hurry back after unlocking seventy percent of my true strength.”

That was Heon Wonchang's farewell as they parted for a time.

He was right.

Now that Ma Yeonjeok's whereabouts were unknown, no expert at the Tang Clan where Jung Yeonshin was staying could contend with a Lord of the Thirteen Skies. They had to assume that both the Pure Demon Alliance Leader and the Blood Flame Cult Leader would appear in one way or another.

Here, the Tang Clan's stronghold held both vitality and tension. Even the sunlight brushing brightly over the rafters seemed to weigh heavily on the household's shoulders.

'I have to grow stronger.'

Throughout this time, Jung Yeonshin focused on qi accumulation while turning his radiant wheel.

In the center of a training ground with stone steps extending in every direction, a swirling wind lifted earth and leaves before converging on the boy's body.

Possessing the properties of the Movement Art, the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art had a stability no ordinary mental cultivation method could match.

WHOOOOM!

Simply turning the radiant wheel gathered an amount of energy incomparable to before.

Meanwhile, Jung Yeonshin's mind dismantled the martial arts of three great factions in exhaustive detail.

The Blood Flame Cult, the Pure Demon Alliance, and the Ten Perfections Sect.

He had already experienced enough of them.

He had once gambled on a single move from a Tyrant Sword Tribe elder and successfully devised a counter. What, then, if he prepared beforehand?

Never in his life had he taken advance measures and devoted himself entirely to neutralizing martial arts. He had no idea how effective it would be against peerless masters like the Lords of the Thirteen Skies. Still, Jung Yeonshin did everything he could.

'Even against someone two or three levels above me, catching them off guard can let me almost keep pace for a single form.'

He broke down, one by one, the waves of force from their qi arts, the movements of their Mobility Arts, and the forms of their fist and palm arts and swordsmanship.

He was redefining his Burst Discharge to tear through their openings, while compiling which flows of the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art's waves of force he should release against which opponents.

The upper dantian within his head repeatedly blazed white, anticipating a brief, decisive battle.