The Tang Clan's stronghold fell silent for a moment.

"..."

Jung Yeonshin had been right. There could hardly have been a more futile sight. The last Black-level master the Ten Perfections Sect had brought forth was dead, unable to avenge either her sworn nephew So Jinrang or her lover Dokgo Gwang.

The boy slowly released his grip. Leaving the Desolate Sword where it lay on the ground, he used both hands to lay Yeo Juha down.

To her, Jung Yeonshin was an enemy to be avenged. She had done him no other wrong. Since she had challenged him as a martial artist, he wished to accord her the same respect. He picked up her spear and laid it beside her. For his part, he had neither debts nor grudges with her.

With her eyes closed, Yeo Juha's face looked peaceful. Jung Yeonshin had used his core energy to relax the facial muscles that had frozen in shock.

TAP TAP!

Someone ran out from the Ten Perfections Sect's ranks: a young man with a powerful bearing. Perhaps ten years older than Jung Yeonshin, he wore a battle robe similar to Yeo Juha's, though his was blue.

"Senior Sister... Senior Sister..."

He murmured with a stricken face. They seemed to have studied under the same master. His manner toward his senior sister was deeply reverent.

Even through his grief, the glances he shot Jung Yeonshin were sharp with hostility. He looked ready to hack the boy to pieces on the spot. Yeonshin silently bore his gaze. It would be unfair to call this the behavior of a warrior of the evil and unorthodox paths. Anyone would have reacted the same way.

'If I lost Senior Chung Myung or Senior Baek...'

Jung Yeonshin thought that, in the young man's place, he would have attacked at once.

With that thought, he calmly reached down. The Desolate Sword rose of its own accord into his grasp—the attraction formula of Blossoms Raining Across the Sky. The hilt felt warm against his palm, still holding the heat of the waves of force unleashed during the brief but fierce battle.

"Hah...!"

The young man flinched as he lifted Yeo Juha in both arms to recover her body. Had he mistaken it for the legendary art of controlling a sword with qi? His face reddened without any prompting, and he turned and walked away.

The boy silently sheathed the Desolate Sword.

"Benefactor!"

The Tang siblings approached together, moving exceedingly fast with their Mobility Arts. Each held a piece of blue silk, as though to attest to their family's wealth, and tried to wipe Yeo Juha's blood from Jung Yeonshin's robes.

'What are they doing?'

Their eagerness to perform a servant's menial duties made him uncomfortable. He placed a hand on each sibling's shoulder and pushed them away. The Poison Dragon and Poison Phoenix yielded without resistance, an odd look in their eyes. They reminded him of a white cat that used to be fed leftovers at the wealthy Jeong Clan Estate.

'No. That white cat was a little cheekier.'

A frivolous thought. The boy put the name, which was also his junior Shin Sobin's nickname, out of his mind. It was then, as he pushed the siblings away and raised his head, that a voice spoke.

"Your unarmed forms were impressive. You have studied how to counter our sect's martial arts. I can see the malice in the way you have honed them."

The deep voice came from directly ahead. A middle-aged man in snow-white light armor approached slowly, his footsteps carrying a heavy resonance.

The boy knew instinctively that he did not wear the armor because he needed protection. It was a kind of ceremonial attire, a symbol of the authority of a sect leader taking the field in person.

"..."

He still gave off no detectable waves of qi. The middle-aged man—the Ten Perfections Sect Leader—stopped ten paces before Jung Yeonshin. His physique was imposing.

A large piece of one ear was missing, as though sliced away by a sword. Yet before the disfigurement could seem unsightly, he projected the spirit of an undefeated general. Without revealing his internal power, he etched a terrifying presence into the air. His eyes, by contrast, were gentle, their oxlike pupils holding only a jet-black gleam. It was chilling. His bearing recalled the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord, whom Yeonshin had first seen during the massacre at the Jeong Clan Estate.

The Ten Perfections Sect Leader slowly opened his mouth.

"Those counterforms of yours... If you developed them alone, you truly are a heaven-sent genius."

Despite the death of one of his sect's masters, his tone remained placid. So did his expression. What did this martial artist pursue? The peerless master's demeanor invited the question. His words betrayed none of his feelings. He was utterly inscrutable.

'Still... he doesn't seem to know about my heavenly affliction.'

He showed no sign of having seen through Yeonshin's constitution. So far, only three people had understood it at a glance: the Desolate Fortress Master, the Zhongnan Sword Immortal, and the Divine Sword Squad Leader... Was it a difference in martial attainment? Or perhaps it depended on the lineage and characteristics of the mental cultivation methods they practiced.

'Either way, he's a Purple-level master. Even talking about letting my guard down is absurd.'

Jung Yeonshin was grasping the Desolate Sword's hilt again when the sect leader suddenly grinned.

Looking over the boy's shoulder, he shouted, "Tang Unhwang! How far you have fallen! Is the best hiding place you could find behind a boy who looks barely fifteen?"

"You call that a provocation?"

The boy spoke amid the steel petals that had already risen around him. A few steps behind him, Tang Unhwang had extended a hand, unleashing his supreme art to cover his clan's Teacher.

WHOOOOSH!

"..."

A heavy silence briefly settled over them. Only the vortex of force pouring from Tang Unhwang battered the air with its mighty power. The Ten Perfections Sect Leader's eyes widened slightly, and his grin deepened. He looked ready to burst into uproarious laughter.

"Blossoms Raining Across the Sky!"

He chuckled for a moment before continuing.

"Yes, I have heard the rumors well enough. An incredible marvel occurred on Kuizhou's main avenue, they say. The events were so preposterous that I took that much to be true. You finally restored the Tang Clan's secret art. And that, too, was the work of the young master those imperial watchdogs are raising."

"I thought you would be a man of few words."

Jung Yeonshin had already assumed his swordsmanship's opening stance, lowering his body with his hand resting on the hilt.

The Ten Perfections Sect Leader did not answer. He simply continued saying what he wished.

"No matter. There is something more important. To think the affair in the City of Master Artisans would end in such failure. Were you the ones who snatched Bodhidharma's treasure plaque?"

"The Blood Flame Cult took it."

The boy lied without batting an eye, imagining that he was borrowing Heon Wonchang's and the Supreme Flame Dragon's shamelessness. It was easier than he had expected. But the sect leader did not seem to believe him. Was that the result of long experience in the martial world?

"No matter. Whether it is the Tang Clan or the Desolate Fortress's branch, I need only search it myself. Know this: I will slaughter everything that stands in my way."

"Let's get out of here."

The Supreme Flame Dragon suddenly appeared beside him and whispered. Jung Yeonshin did not even reply.

He merely drew the Desolate Sword in silence and raised it into a middle guard. He felt as though the wind brushing its edge split in two. Having killed Yeo Juha with ease, he was still in peak condition.

The Ten Perfections Sect Leader approached without even drawing his sword. Both corners of his mouth stretched into a broad grin. His gentle-looking eyes made his face all the more frightening.

"Even if you do not stand in my way, you will die. Thanks to you lot, my sect has fallen into decline. We must now speak of rebuilding, so I intend to exact a hefty price in blood."

WHOOSH!

The boy listened no further. He could not surrender even the first strike to a master capable of matching a purple robe. Behind him, Tang Unhwang's Blossoms Raining Across the Sky reacted instantly. The moment Jung Yeonshin's sword strike emitted its pale light, blossoms of hidden weapons surged forward alongside him, guarding his advance.

"Good. Very good!"

The Ten Perfections Sect Leader roared with hearty delight. His long strides carried the spirit of an absolute master. The air around him groaned as though an earthquake were shaking the atmosphere.

He had already witnessed the Lightning Genius's palm technique. Even among supreme arts, its power stood out. It demanded his full concentration, his eyes half-lidded in focus. Combined with Blossoms Raining Across the Sky, that palm technique was exceptionally dangerous. If it struck him amid the whirling hidden weapons, even a Lord of the Thirteen Skies would struggle to emerge unscathed. His eyes took in Jung Yeonshin and Blossoms Raining Across the Sky, to the exclusion of all else.

Then it happened.

CRUNCH!

A pale face rose behind the Ten Perfections Sect Leader, as though declaring their battle over. It belonged to a man so beautiful it was chilling. As his glossy, snow-white hair fluttered, the Blood Flame Cult Leader's fangs unleashed monstrous waves of qi. It all happened in an instant. The moment the surge of internal power began, his teeth sank into the sect leader's neck.

"Aaaagh!"

A peerless master's scream rang out. The sight defied belief.

With his teeth buried in the Ten Perfections Sect Leader's neck, the Blood Flame Cult Leader's eyes flashed crimson. That terrifying blood-red light grew ever deeper.

Blood Art. Essence absorption.

Though they stood in the same peerless realm, he had exploited an utterly unguarded opening. He looked more like a fiend than a human. The speed at which his fangs drained essence was staggering. The Ten Perfections Sect Leader's waves of qi were visibly fading.

"Heh heh heh."

A sinister laugh seeped through the Blood Flame Cult Leader's teeth, as though echoing from an abyss.

The surrounding air seemed to freeze. Anyone would have been struck dumb at such a moment. The Blood Flame Cult Leader did not waste that opening. Still biting the sect leader's neck, he released tremendous waves of qi beneath his feet.

BOOM!

Immense internal power erupted from the Yongquan points in his soles. Holding the Ten Perfections Sect Leader from behind, he shot upward like an arrow, almost as though he were flying. The steel flower-rain of Blossoms Raining Across the Sky was swept up in the surge and scattered in every direction. Behind Yeonshin, Tang Unhwang gave a bewildered groan.

'The Blood Flame Cult Leader. He's buying time to absorb his essence.'

Jung Yeonshin quickly judged that letting him go would lead to disaster. The muscles throughout his body compressed. The radiant wheel's core energy raced through him. Stimulating in sequence the Chengfu points beneath his buttocks, the Yinmen points just below them on the backs of his thighs, and the Yongquan points in his soles, the boy borrowed Chung Myung's footwork.

"Stop him!"

"Block him with your bodies!"

At the same instant, red figures descended upon Jung Yeonshin. There were far more than one or two. They had approached cautiously under cover of the melee, while he had been forced to focus his energy detection entirely upon the battle. Ten Blood Master Swordsmen charged without warning, seemingly intent on buying their Cult Leader time.

Prevented from leaping, the boy's eyes flashed white.

'Radiant Sword Art...!'

The Desolate Sword flashed. He unleashed his full strength in an instant, tracing a half-moon with its snow-white blade. Core energy compressed tightly within his triceps and biceps burst forth explosively. Through the broad horizontal sweep, he felt the blade shatter bones and chew through flesh.

SPLASH!

"Don't get any closer!"

"Treat the Grand Preceptor as an Apostle's equal!"

Three Blood Master Swordsmen fell dead from a single sword move. The aftermath of the slash spread farther still. Those injured by its wave of force retreated in disorder, clutching their abdomens. Groans rose from all around as blood dripped to the ground.

Clutching the left side of his chest, Jung Yeonshin tried to leap again. Spinning the radiant wheel so violently in that brief instant had strained his heart. It felt as though his chest were tearing apart.

At the same moment—

"Ahahahahaha!"

Mad laughter resounded. The Blood Flame Cult Leader's ecstasy seemed to wash over every direction. The waves of qi surging from his voice alone were immense. Had he already assimilated the Ten Perfections Sect Leader's core energy as his own? Even for a ringleader of the evil and unorthodox paths, such mastery of internal energy was hard to believe.

Landing atop a hall's roof, the Blood Flame Cult Leader flung the Ten Perfections Sect Leader away. He did not so much as glance at the figure falling helplessly below.

The Grandmaster of Blood Art. The master of the Blood Flame Cult.

The smile on his slender face held a demonic allure. Standing arrogantly with his feet together, he turned his head to survey his surroundings with unmistakable elegance. The refinement of his bearing recalled a nobleman of Beijing.

'He used this gathering of the Desolate Fortress, the Tang Clan, and the Ten Perfections Sect... as an altar to advance his own martial arts.'

Because of the retired Tang clan head, Tang Taedok, Yeonshin had sensed that the Cult Leader would appear. He had not expected such a dramatic entrance.

Now he understood why peerless masters were called natural disasters. The man had swept in and disposed of Jung Yeonshin's formidable enemy in an instant. The sight drove home the vastness of the martial path. The Ten Perfections Sect Leader, too, had been a Lord of the Thirteen Skies.

'The peerless realm. Is this Five Qi Return to the Origin?'

The boy knew instinctively. He was too late.

Then it happened.

A strand of wind brushed his cheek, as though it had been waiting for this very moment. Fluttering purple robes obscured Jung Yeonshin's vision. When had he arrived? A warm voice called the boy's name.

"Yeonshin."

"Grandfather...?"

Jung Yeonshin's eyes widened slightly. An imposing old man stood with his back to him. Unlike the Blood Flame Cult Leader's, the white hair stirring in the breeze was coarse and lusterless.

"Only now have I realized that time passes differently for you and me."

His voice was heavy with sorrow. The words also startled Jung Yeonshin. His grandfather had discovered his constitution.

"I had hoped to speak with you at length... but fortune and timing will not align. Pursuing the Blood Flame Cult Leader while contemplating the Movement Art has brought me to this."

"...!"

"Yeonshin. Our first time is to be our last. I am ashamed."

Ma Yeonjeok's voice sounded softly.

"Etch your grandfather's lesson into your eyes. You must eat the Fruit of the World Tree, must you not? I will show you, in full, the realm you must reach. You will surely attain it someday."

"Ma Yeonjeok, you ridiculous old man. Still, you are worthy of being called my nemesis. I shook you off once, yet you managed to catch up."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader looked down with a smile.

The two peerless masters' sudden arrivals appeared to be the culmination of a lengthy chase. What twists and turns had taken place along the way? For the first time, the boy faced a situation entirely beyond his control. All he could do was gaze at his grandfather's back.

HUMMM.

Ma Yeonjeok lowered his hand at an angle. A treasured sword had appeared like a phantom and was already in his right hand. It was unlike the current Divine Sword Squad Leader's mysterious, magnificent formless sword. The straight, snow-white blade was unmistakably Moonkeeper, famous as Ma Yeonjeok's beloved sword.

And yet it evoked the very same feeling. He was strong enough to take on the entire martial world. His was prowess that could, quite literally, contend for all under heaven.

"Yeonshin. From this moment on..."

The old man in the long purple robe parted his lips. Fierce, dominating spirit began to fill his voice, as though he had briefly borrowed back his youth. From between his wrinkled lips came words like a lion's growl.

"Watch the Divine Sword Squad Leader."