Her expression soon turned blank—a look almost impossible to imagine on her usual face. Baek Miryeo was, after all, an expert renowned even outside the Desolate Fortress, a swordswoman famed for her bold, cold-handed strikes.

“Internal force. A puncturing technique, you say.”

She did not immediately lose her temper. Brushing her lips with a long finger, she sank into silent thought.

“That is difficult to accept. Any internal martial arts expert who has focused on cultivating internal energy will at least have learned the basics of puncturing techniques. Surely you do not take me for a fool who cannot even understand her own core energy?”

‘I didn't, but now I think you might be.’

For once, Jung Yeonshin could not voice his thoughts.

From what he could see, Baek Miryeo's energy circulation was yielding and subtle, and she gathered and released core energy faster than even his other seniors. But none of that mattered if she could not recognize it herself.

He saw no particular need to continue the conversation, so he changed tack.

“My apologies for troubling you with an unnecessary remark.”

They were not close enough for him to insist on offering advice at his own expense.

Yet his very lack of concern seemed to have pricked her pride. Her smooth brow furrowed.

An expert with extensive experience in the martial world would be skilled at psychological warfare, too. Clearly, she had read the thoughts behind his changed attitude. Jung Yeonshin slowly spoke.

“I'll take my leave.”

“... Very well. I'm sorry. And thank you.”

Leaving her behind, he headed toward the smaller training ground. If she would not accept his advice, that was that.

Her apology and thanks suggested otherwise, but if she held a grudge over something so groundless, she would be no better than his brothers at the Jeong Clan Estate. There was no reason to waste his mental energy on someone like that.

His martial arts had been improving by the day since he entered the Desolate Fortress. All he needed now was a chance to distinguish himself.

‘Let's work on chaining Energy Accumulation Discharge first.’

Jung Yeonshin pushed Baek Miryeo out of his thoughts entirely.

* * *

“Captain.”

“Speak.”

“Have you ever told Lightning Genius about the origins of my martial arts?”

“What madness is this? Do you think that makes any sense?”

Inside the Radiant Demon Squad's hall, Ma Jin frowned behind a soundproof barrier of emitted qi. Seated opposite him, Baek Miryeo looked grave.

“Then how...?”

“I see what happened.”

Ma Jin spoke as she murmured to herself.

“He must have seen through that martial art you keep tinkering with. Lightning Genius is special. Talent like his is rare anywhere in the martial world. Such things do exist—the noble race, the iron race, those supreme masters spoken of as contenders for the strongest under heaven. Lightning Genius simply possesses an equally unfathomable talent.”

“...”

“The Wave Swordswoman Baek Miryeo is secretly teaching herself the lost heavenly demon sacred arts? That is no reason to keep Lightning Genius at arm's length. He is the future of the Desolate Fortress in every sense. I cannot speak for those who have never seen him, but there is absolutely no reason to dismiss his words as advice from an inferior. I have never even heard of talent like his.”

“I know that, too.”

“Then what concerns you must be his character. As it happens, a minor mission has come down. A single blue robe could handle it, so two blue robes and two white robes making their debut in the martial world should do nicely. Go and see how Lightning Genius faces mortal danger alongside his comrades. See whether he is trustworthy.”

“Are you saying I should even discuss the heavenly demon sacred arts with him if his character proves sound?”

“There are limits to what you can learn alone, and I have no time to spare. If mastering the sacred arts is the only consideration, seeking his help is the right choice. The boy is fundamentally different. Whatever he finds, he tailors it to fit himself. That is the talent of a Grandmaster.”

“A Grandmaster...!”

Her eyes widened. Ma Jin continued steadily.

“You will have no need to worry about your legitimacy. Lightning Genius will establish a martial lineage of his own. His radiant demon arts alone make that clear. I've never seen anyone learn them that way.”

“That is astonishing, I'll admit.”

“Astonishing? That word cannot begin to describe his talent. He even enjoys the study of martial arts.”

“Hmm...!”

Baek Miryeo murmured. Ma Jin declared with certainty,

“Within five years, Lightning Genius will be captain of the Radiant Demon Squad. Go and examine the character of your future superior.”

* * *

The next day, Jung Yeonshin and Heon Wonchang were summoned to the main training ground.

Only three people stood in the spacious grounds: Baek Miryeo, with whom things were now somewhat awkward, Chung Myung, and Ma Jin.

“You have a mission.”

At Ma Jin's casual announcement, the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior trembled.

“At last, into Murim...!”

“Don't get carried away. You could end up dying far from home.”

“Ah! Yes, sir!”

“Baek Miryeo, Chung Myung, Jung Yeonshin, Heon Wonchang. The four of you will go. This involves the Blood Flame Cult. You had better leave the Desolate Fortress prepared.”

The moment Ma Jin mentioned the Blood Flame Cult, Jung Yeonshin's gaze darkened.

The burning estate. Blood dripping from the threshold. Red clothes and red hair...

He slowly spoke.

“You're sending two blue robes and two white robes on a mission involving the Thirteen skies?”

“You should hear the background first. Strictly speaking, this has nothing to do with the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters. We don't even know where that is.”

Ma Jin's explanation was not long.

“You know Huguang isn't the only region suffering poor harvests.”

Xinye, where the Jeong Clan Estate stood, had fared relatively well, but the wider Nanyang region was different. They said the amount of healthy farmland was dwindling throughout Henan Province.

According to Ma Jin, Shaanxi Province seemed to be in much the same state.

“Several years ago, commoners left starving by a failed harvest looted the estate of a local notable. They took more than grain. The family was reportedly driven out after suffering terrible abuse. Recently, the eldest son seems to have returned—with red hair, they say. And dressed in scarlet martial robes.”

“He joined the Blood Flame Cult...!”

Heon Wonchang's murmur was almost a groan.

Even among the Thirteen skies of the evil and unorthodox paths, the Blood Flame Cult was particularly shunned.

Rumors abounded, but it was generally accepted that the cult mass-produced warriors from its followers through a power of blood that straddled the boundary between sorcery and martial arts.

“Like practitioners of other demonic arts, the eldest son seems to have mastered the Blood Flame Cult's Blood Art quickly. They say he has settled in the village, which has recovered its ability to produce food, and periodically slaughters the livestock and ruins the crops.”

“Ruins the crops?”

The headscarf-wearing Chung Myung murmured. He was of the noble race, wasn't he? Jung Yeonshin recalled.

“He only touches the livestock and crops?”

“Yes. The cruel part is that he doesn't kill everything or dig up even what could be used for seed. He waits for things to grow, then does it all over again.”

“Doesn't that practically make him a great hero? He's nothing like the Blood Flame cultists I know.”

Heon Wonchang's eyes were round. He looked as though he had never heard of anything like it.

“A great hero? Are you serious?”

The Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior immediately flinched at Ma Jin's question. Baek Miryeo gave him a look of disdain.

Ma Jin continued.

“It's Zhenping County, at the southern end of Shaanxi. Normally, our Shaanxi branch could have handled it... but spirit medicine was recently stolen from Mount Hua, and the incident seems to be drawing in the entire martial world of Shaanxi. They have no resources to spare, so they want the main fortress to take this on.”

“Someone stole Mount Hua's spirit medicine? Surely you don't mean the Purple Radiance Pill, said to rival Shaolin's Great Restoration Pills?”

Heon Wonchang asked, his eyes wide.

“That would explain the uproar. That case may come to the main fortress before long, too. For now, focus on the mission at hand.”

“Yes, sir!”

He answered with vigor.

All manner of affairs from the martial world flowed into this place.

Even the composed Jung Yeonshin could now clearly feel that he was becoming directly involved in Murim. It was easy enough to imagine what the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior must be feeling.

Ma Jin seemed concerned about that as well. The hot blood of a newcomer to the martial world—anything could happen when youth, martial prowess, and pride in belonging to the Desolate Fortress came together.

“Chung Myung. Baek Miryeo. Keep a close eye on the white robes. Take care to bring them back safely.”

“Yes.”

“I'll do my best.”

Baek Miryeo's impassive expression contrasted with Chung Myung's easy smile.

Jung Yeonshin quietly gripped his sword hilt and pictured the murderous fiends of the Tyrant Sword Tribe and the Blood Flame Cult.

He still did not know why they had attacked the Jeong Clan Estate. But that no longer mattered. The clan had already been destroyed, and the bloodbath had planted a sword in the heart of even its unwanted son.

If he met them, he would kill them.

‘Take good care of your heads. I'll be cutting them off.’

He stroked his sword hilt.

* * *

The four of them mounted up, left Xiangyang immediately, and rode swiftly northwest.

It was a forced march at a pace that silenced Heon Wonchang, who seemed to have expected a leisurely tour of the martial world. Apparently, Desolate Fortress missions were always like this.

They could freely use the post stations throughout the Central Plains, and core energy allowed them to remain in the saddle for long stretches. There was no time for leisure.

There was, however, no post road linking Huguang and Shaanxi, so they had to travel at a pace that preserved their horses' stamina.

They reached Zhenping County ten days after leaving Xiangyang.

“Uuugh.”

As the county magistrate welcomed them, Heon Wonchang slid limply from his horse. The problem seemed more mental than physical. Baek Miryeo clicked her tongue.

“You couldn't begin to imagine what it's like when martial artists use the post roads.”

“...!”

Jung Yeonshin glanced at Heon Wonchang's suddenly pale face, then turned his attention to the magistrate.

‘He doesn't look underfed.’

And here they had said a Blood Flame cultist was wiping out their food supplies. The magistrate's round face lacked a healthy sheen, but otherwise showed no sign of deprivation. Only his expression, as he looked at them, held a mixture of relief and irritation.

“Do you know how long it's been since I sent that urgent dispatch? And you only arrive now? How infuriating!”

“...?”

“Well, you're here now, so dismount! I had thought to show you some respect as the swords of the Great Ming Empire, but to think you'd take your sweet time like this! Can you even catch the man? With just this handful of people?”

“What's this about?”

Jung Yeonshin asked Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo. They looked accustomed to this, even bored.

Tapping the back of his headscarf, Chung Myung slowly spoke.

“Some of these officials haven't a clue. They think the Desolate Fortress is their personal broom. Only the first time something like this happens, mind you. There are so many counties in the Central Plains that plenty of them have never even seen a real martial artist.”

“Wh-what? You insolent wretch! How dare you!”

“May I seal his mute point?”

“Go ahead. Let's finish this quickly and leave.”

“What nonsen—!”

Before Chung Myung had even finished speaking, the official's voice cut off. Jung Yeonshin had pressed a core-energy-infused hand against the point between his spine and skull.

Taller than the official, he looked down at him with indifferent eyes.

“I don't take orders from you.”

Sweat beaded on the official's forehead. Leaving the trembling man behind, Jung Yeonshin turned away.

Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo were watching him with pleased expressions. Suddenly, he felt self-conscious.

“Master Jung, you've been learning pressure-point techniques as well? Good heavens.”

Heon Wonchang marveled.

Pressure-point sealing was a method of precisely stimulating another person's acupoints with a hand infused with core energy.

Not every martial artist could perform it, but for Jung Yeonshin, who had mastered the workings of the human body through the Movement Art, it was a natural subject of study.

“I've thought this for some time, but it's getting harder and harder to address you as a mere gentleman. From now on, I'll call you Young Master. Young Master Jung!”

“Suit yourself, Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior.”

Even that mild joke made the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior grin from ear to ear.

They tethered their horses in the government office's stable and headed down. Chung Myung draped an arm over Jung Yeonshin's shoulders.

“You know the rule that the government and martial world don't interfere with each other? When it comes to the authorities, we're actually freer than other martial artists. The imperial family granted us that freedom. You're welcome to put fools who think we're shackled in their place like that. That's the kind of organization the Desolate Fortress is.”

“Sealing his mute point was quite gentle, wasn't it?”

Heon Wonchang chimed in.

“That doesn't mean you should go too far,” Baek Miryeo said as she walked alongside them.

Then she added quietly, “You handled that well.”

“Thank you.”

He had spent a fair amount of time traveling with Baek Miryeo to Zhenping County. Her encouragement now seemed to ease much of the remaining awkwardness.

Jung Yeonshin smiled faintly, then narrowed his eyes.

“There, below the village.”

“Hmm?”

“A Blood Flame cultist.”

Before he had even finished speaking, he kicked off the ground and broke into a sprint.