The Radiant Demon Squad captain's office was a curious place. The scents of ink, steel, and oil mingled, a peculiar fragrance drifting over the furniture, including a table carved from stone.

The wall where Ma Jin's sabers had once hung was now filled with treasured swords from the Desolate's Ma Clan. There were more than ten. The expensive stone racks were completely full.

Blades were consumables, their edges generally bound to chip. The Ma clan's letter accompanying the gifts mentioned that very point. These were gifts for the new captain, it said, to be used during sparring practice.

The letter explicitly pledged unconditional support for Jung Yeonshin. It bore the names of Ju Yeonjeong, Ma Se-In's mother, and the main family's elder council. Those once so haughty had pledged their support as though signing a joint declaration. They claimed to want nothing in return.

'Connections and status really are everything.'

To think it could all be resolved so easily.

Seated at his desk, the boy considered two reasons. The first, of course, was the change in Radiant Demon Squad captain. Each of the Divine Sword Squad's seventeen captains was a supreme master who could wield real power in any major sect. As members of the fortress's upper ranks, they were regarded throughout the martial world as its leadership.

His status had changed so drastically that no one could now take issue with his origins or rashly scheme against him. Every martial house had to choose one of two stances: stake everything on opposing him, or treat him as an honored guest. Such was Jung Yeonshin, captain of the Radiant Demon Squad.

"... Well done. That is how you approve a document. Your handwriting is quite elegant, Yeonshin. I needn't worry about your correspondence."

The second reason was Ma Jin's appointment as clan head. Sitting across from him, his uncle was handing over the Radiant Demon Squad captain's duties. Ma Yeonjeok's circumstances were effectively those of a man who had washed his hands in a golden basin and retired. He needed to recuperate. Yet Ma Se-In, who was being groomed as the next clan head, was still terribly young.

For Jung Yeonshin, his contemporary and already a fully accomplished martial artist, to occupy a captain's seat was extraordinary. He had to be considered an exception, alongside the young cult leader of the recently insurgent Ming Cult, a grandmaster of sorcerous martial arts.

'Se-In must be under quite a burden, too. The pressure to grow must be intense.'

Ma Jin would serve as clan head until Yeonshin's friend came of age. The qi-powered prosthetic arm being made by the iron race of the City of Master Artisans was reportedly nearing completion. Losing his left arm had left a flaw in his entire meridian network? By the time Ma Jin stepped down as clan head, he would surely demonstrate the skill to return to service under the Divine Sword Squad.

The boy, who had felt his approaching end once again at the captains' meeting, felt a fresh sense of relief. He often imagined what would happen if he failed to overcome his heavenly affliction and died. Each time, his attachment to his comrades and blood relatives grew stronger. He merely took pains not to show it. They would all remember him after his death. They were precious to him.

'What a relief.'

Warmth suddenly flickered in the boy's eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted briefly, too. It was a rare sight, but Ma Jin's practiced eye technique managed to catch it.

"You little rascal."

His scarred face softened remarkably, quite unlike the next Ma clan head famed as the Hell Slaughterer. It was not the expression of a supreme master who had boasted an undefeated record, but of an uncle looking at his nephew. With a hint of a smile, Ma Jin continued his advice.

"Wherever you go, the higher you rise, the more people value a balance of scholarly and martial accomplishments. You needn't become a great scholar, but some judge a man by his grasp of common principles and the quality of his handwriting. They are chiefly people from ancient, distinguished houses or the imperial court. You'll be dealing with them until you're sick of it."

"The imperial court?"

"Our fortress's captains have special authority. If a corrupt official obstructs your mission, your Black rank permits you to execute them on the spot."

It was an immense privilege, directly contrary to the Great Ming Code and the current court's policies. Jung Yeonshin recalled the noble-race magistrate who had caused such chaos at the Hwangbo branch family. As the branch head's husband, he had tried to interfere with the boy's mission. Had Chung Myung, who belonged to the same race, not been there, it would have put him in serious difficulty.

'So nothing stands in my way now.'

He felt a sense of release. Silently, Jung Yeonshin listened to Ma Jin's explanation.

"You need only satisfy two conditions: plausible circumstances and few witnesses. Afterward, a chain of events that never existed will be created. With frightening naturalness, at that. Of the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, both directly under the emperor, whichever can operate more easily in that region will work behind the scenes. They'll establish that the death had nothing to do with the Desolate Fortress."

It was truly terrifying. He had already known something of it, but hearing it directly exceeded anything he had imagined. The Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard reigned as reapers even in Beijing, home to the Forbidden City. They exercised extralegal powers surpassing the Great Ming Code. Jung Yeonshin had often heard that even high-ranking officials called them kings of the underworld. The emperor's blades worked in concert with the Desolate Fortress's captains. Such power was rare under heaven.

Yet Ma Jin looked somewhat grave. The scars on his forehead drew slightly together, a trace of concern in his expression.

"I mentioned handwriting for a reason. Yeonshin, you mustn't let those court bastards look down on you. Make one wrong move and they may push you around."

"What do you mean by that?"

"They're people, too. They value convenience. If you behead a high official during a mission, you saddle them with a considerable nuisance. Imagine how tiresome it is to fabricate evidence clearing the fortress and announce a cause of death. Sometimes they must take the blame for what we've done themselves. They can't be endlessly friendly toward us. It is a political burden, after all."

"I understand."

Jung Yeonshin nodded slowly. Ma Jin continued.

"They are loyal to the Son of Heaven, but enjoy tremendous discretion. They may impose restrictions on your mission to suit themselves. It has happened often enough. There are very few people above Black rank, aren't there? A captain would be embarrassed to complain to a squad leader or the fortress master, so many new captains simply swallowed their frustration and made themselves miserable. The captain of the Suncheon Wing was no different when he first took office."

"What about you, Uncle?"

The boy's question came abruptly. Ma Jin's lips curved slightly.

"Eunuchs from the Eastern Depot came to see me. Although the power of the Brush-Holding Grand Eunuch—the head of the Eastern Depot—reached the heavens at the time, they found little fault with me. It must be because your uncle has a more domineering presence than the Suncheon Wing captain. I did from the start."

"..."

"Seizing the initiative is nothing complicated. You need only be strong in speech or martial arts. If necessary, crush them with your martial skill."

"... Is that really permitted?"

"Their duties and ours are clearly defined. There's no need to fear that a contest of wills will ruin a mission. You, especially, have no reason to bow to them, Yeonshin."

"...?"

"The current emperor studied under the fortress master. She is both his teacher and a royal ruler of the Ming. Our seventeen captains are that very fortress master's treasured swords. Moreover, you learned martial arts from her just as the Son of Heaven did. Your standing is not beneath that of the Eastern Depot or the Embroidered Uniform Guard."

Ma Jin pointed to a portion of the document on the desk. At the bottom was the official seal reading "Radiant Demon Squad Captain," evidence of Jung Yeonshin's approval of the squad's supplies. If an unranked disciple such as the Supreme Flame Dragon, or a white-robed warrior, delivered it to the Command Bureau, the money and goods corresponding to its entries would be sent to Jung Yeonshin.

"You have the strongest backing of any newly appointed captain in history, Yeonshin. But the pride and self-regard of those court creatures encompass all under heaven. A clash is inevitable. It will be a struggle for control."

There was a reason Ma Jin offered this advice now. A message had arrived telling Yeonshin to clear today's schedule and attend the imperial grandson residing in the fortress. The Ming emperor's grandson and heir. A direct member of the imperial bloodline who learned martial arts from the Desolate Fortress Master, he was said to bear ultimate responsibility on the court's behalf for matters involving the fortress and government officials.

He had given Jung Yeonshin the first inspiration for his sword song just after his promotion to blue robe. They had not met since. Yeonshin departed on his mission tomorrow. To race unimpeded through the martial world as a Black-ranked warrior of the Desolate Fortress, he needed to be able to cut down even officials who stood in his way. This meeting was to introduce someone who would work with him from now on.

"This is better, really. It should be preferable to meeting someone from the Eastern Depot or the Embroidered Uniform Guard alone for the first time. Rumor has it that His Highness favors you."

"Favors...me?"

They had barely met. His eyebrows rose slightly in puzzlement. Ma Jin smiled faintly.

"His Highness has few pleasures in life. Anyone who can play music with a sword wins his favor, regardless of status. It's a feat even the masters of internal qi arts in the imperial palace cannot readily demonstrate."

"Ah."

Jung Yeonshin thought of his sword song. It was a supreme art he did not use. It ate away at his lifespan. He had set it aside, believing he could not ease the strain on his Baihui point until he united essence, qi, and spirit and reached the realm of Three Flowers Gather at the Crown. Perhaps he should count himself fortunate that he had caught the imperial grandson's eye before then.

"This is a condition you must fulfill before venturing into the martial world. Only after establishing a system of cooperation with the court can you fully carry out your duties as a Desolate Fortress captain."

Ma Jin did not seem greatly concerned. Was it because he had seen Yeonshin kill the Sword Scorpion Demon and the Pure Demon Divine Hand in succession at the City of Master Artisans? He concluded calmly.

"Establish a relationship, one way or another. It is your most important preliminary task."

"Yes."

The boy rose.

* * *

He arrived at an exceptionally splendid hall, accompanied by an attendant in luxurious silk clothes. When he had been promoted to blue robe, he had come with several other warriors. Now he was alone. The attendant kept glancing at the boy in the jet-black robe. It was a curious look. His uneven black cuffs seemed to trouble the attendant immensely.

"Captain, please take the utmost care with your conduct."

Jung Yeonshin nodded silently at the attendant's words.

This was the residence of the emperor's grandson and heir. Its rafters bore both a deep indigo hue and the sunlight. As befitted the home of so august a personage, it was exceedingly quiet. Even the sound of a gentle breeze sweeping the ground was distinct.

"The captain of the Desolate Fortress's Radiant Demon Squad."

The attendant stepped inside and announced him. A quiet reply soon sounded: "Show him in."

At the same time, the dark-brown double doors opened. There was no sign of anyone taking their handles. They moved of their own accord, like the Desolate Fortress Master's manipulation of objects through empty air. As the view slowly unfolded, Jung Yeonshin crossed the threshold with measured steps. Two pairs of eyes watched him.

"It has been some time."

The incomparably handsome young noble spoke slowly from his grand armchair. The emperor's grandson and heir. The third heaven of the Ming.

His ears resembled the tips of treasured swords. He was shorter than Jung Yeonshin. Yet he had been invested as imperial grandson and heir despite the crown prince being alive and well. The air gathered between his thick brows was extraordinary. It was not a matter of his martial attainment; the man himself seemed difficult to fathom. Cool and indifferent, he looked down upon Jung Yeonshin with perfect naturalness. His gaze was peculiar. Both eyes flashed as though holding pitch-black lightning.

"Jung Yeonshin, captain of the Radiant Demon Squad, greets Your Highness."

The boy paid his respects without flourish.

"A captain already. Remarkably swift, at your age."

The imperial grandson spoke amid sunlight slanting through the window. He addressed Yeonshin as though he alone existed beneath heaven.

"Congratulations on joining those who shape the realm. I have nothing in particular to discuss with you privately. Speak with Myeong Yeo. He is the Brush-Holding Grand Eunuch's right-hand man."

He closed his eyes as though intending merely to listen. The man standing beside him with his hands folded stepped forward.

"Your Highness's words humble me beyond measure. I scarcely deserve the praise of being called the Grand Eunuch's right-hand man, but shall receive it as encouragement to devote myself all the more to affairs of state."

The archaic diction peculiar to the imperial court flowed like water. His sword-tip ears stood out. A eunuch of the noble race. The boy sensed an unusual wave of qi. The eunuch standing on the dais was plainly a master.

'He must have learned the Virgin Art they say eunuchs cultivate. I've heard it's tremendous martial arts, given the great price it demands. Just how profound is it?'

As that faint curiosity stirred, Myeong Yeo's eyes narrowed slightly and curved upward while he gazed steadily at Jung Yeonshin. The eunuch of the Eastern Depot, the Ming court's intelligence agency, smiled at the boy with his eyes.

"The sight of a young hero seems to broaden my horizons."

"I am the Radiant Demon Squad captain."

Jung Yeonshin calmly offered a fist-and-palm salute. He did not bow low as he had before the imperial grandson. Myeong Yeo's lips formed a curious curve.

"Since you depart tomorrow, we should attend to pressing business first. I venture to put you to a test, Captain."

"A test?"

"I wish to understand your abilities a little more precisely. Of course, I watched your promotion duel closely. But it was woefully insufficient for a precise analysis of the new Radiant Demon Squad captain, either as a commander or as a martial artist."

Myeong Yeo's tone was gentle, his voice rather thin. It seemed to be because he had been castrated as a child.

"This is most important. One cannot judge a person from a single test. In what circumstances you are vulnerable to which martial arts; the extent of your powerful strikes, changing moves, feints, and the mobility of your Mobility Arts. I must know everything."

"..."

"It is for the efficient allocation of resources. Our Eastern Depot must invest a great deal of effort in each of the Divine Sword Squad's seventeen captains. I ask for your understanding, Captain."

"Do you, perhaps, reject the imperial civil service examinations?"

Jung Yeonshin posed the question calmly.

"Oh, dear."

Myeong Yeo smiled.

"Even the civil service examination system has three examinations: the provincial, metropolitan, and palace examinations. If we consider your promotion the equivalent of passing the provincial examination, you might think of this as the metropolitan examination. Of course...a mere provincial graduate hardly compares to a Desolate Fortress captain."

"Is there a palace examination as well?"

"That would be actual service. I, too, am curious how much our young captain will contribute to the people's welfare."

His eloquence was formidable, befitting a eunuch who survived the most perilous political arena under heaven.

'Just as I thought. They were only friendly to Uncle.'

Clearly, this was different from Ma Jin's first days in office. The boy accepted that inwardly, though he felt sorry toward his uncle. Even then, Myeong Yeo continued speaking.

"The Martial Alliance's founding ceremony. A boy newly risen to Black rank entrusted with such a momentous affair...? Those who do not accept the records at face value all react much alike. They say the same thing.... 'Discomfiting.'"

Discomfiting. It meant something was unsettling and suspect. The emphasis lay on troublesome confusion, but it was a seldom-used word. It offered indirect proof of the attitude the Eastern Depot, which pursued absolute perfection, held toward a teenage captain.

"Your duel was certainly impressive, Captain. But my powers of observation are poor, and there was something I could not quite discern."

Myeong Yeo spoke while looking down at Jung Yeonshin.

"That sword strike which ended the duel. It truly puzzled me. Did you simply pour in internal power acquired without effort through spirit medicine, or did a momentary flash of instinct produce a sublime sword path?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does. It is a matter of consistency. The density of the qi you emit is unusually high, young Captain. If you gained your rank solely through exceptional skill in one-off attacks, supporting you will demand great effort from both me and the Eastern Depot. It would be another matter if you could unleash such a strike at any time."

As he spoke, Myeong Yeo gestured.

WHOOOOSH!

A hazy wind arose indoors. Internal power spread through the air in an instant, making the atmosphere vibrate. It branched into numerous strands like a skein of thread and began to toy with its surroundings. Gusts that seemed almost tangible swept over the furnishings. It was difficult to imagine this happening without the imperial grandson's prior permission.

"I ask this of you, Captain."

Myeong Yeo spoke with a smile.

"Think of them as sword blades and make your way to me. Any means will do. Evade them or shatter them. I shall analyze your true martial arts."

"Utterly pathetic."

"What was that?"

Myeong Yeo's expression turned peculiar. The boy did not retract the words that had slipped out.

'Why bother?'

He merely glanced over the streams of wind unfolding before him in tangible form.

The eunuch Myeong Yeo. He appeared to be a member of the noble race who had chiefly trained in discharging internal power. Such a person was rare in Jung Yeonshin's circle. Senior Chung Myung was a master of swordsmanship, while the Desolate Fortress Master was too exalted for him to readily ask for instruction.

'Something is coming to me. This seems like a good opportunity.'

The boy stepped forward without hesitation, his upper dantian blazing white. His Baihui point, which had been shining frequently of late, stirred with a refreshing sensation inside his head.

WHOOSH.

Before a single stream of wind could even graze his chest, he flung open the Jianliao point beneath his right shoulder while contracting the deltoid in the same area. Minute movements of muscle and fine meridians produced a Burst Discharge. The firm internal power of the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art erupted briefly, nudging Jung Yeonshin's shoulder aside.

He glided into a step, evading naturally. It was as though he even showed the oncoming wind which way to pass him. His reaction was on an entirely different level of speed.

As Myeong Yeo's eyes widened, Jung Yeonshin took another step. Wind surged toward him in two streams, one from the side and one from the front.

The instant he relaxed the erector spinae along his back and the psoas major in his lower back, the Shenshu point on his right lower back blazed with Radiant Wheel qi. This was a Burst Discharge produced through relaxation. His body, honed by the Movement Art, coordinated the minute muscles around the pressure point.

His whole body slipped through two rotations, passing both attacks. He moved like a drifting leaf. The formula for the movement technique he had long pondered was taking concrete shape. One step, then two, his feet touched the ground ever more lightly, as though divinely inspired.

His pitch-black robe fluttered only with the movement of his body. Myeong Yeo's waves of force, which he had likened to sword blades, could not even brush its collar. Wind whooshed past. The movements he had modeled on Chung Myung's teachings were changing. The boy's unique reaction speed, muscle movements, and control of internal power produced an elegant motion.

A unified formula flashed in his upper dantian. It was as though incessant lightning bolts illuminated his mind. The inspiration granted by the workings of those wind-borne waves of force was tremendous, enough at last to transform martial knowledge he had yet to systematize.

'Wind Body.'

As the breeze seeped into his mind, those two words arose. The name of his movement technique. The movements he had used without a name were woven into a clear formula. A system was fashioned for Jung Yeonshin alone. It was the moment Wind Body, a movement technique within his Mobility Arts, was born.

He planted his foot. Before he knew it, he stood directly before Myeong Yeo. Dust burst up from the boy's final footstep. A vortex of force wound around his trouser hems and rose briefly, then unraveled every one of Myeong Yeo's wind streams with a small explosion.

WHOOOSH!

Myeong Yeo staggered. As the one who had unleashed the martial art, he had suffered its recoil.

"What is the matter?"

The imperial grandson asked from his seat beside them, where he had been gazing steadily up at Jung Yeonshin. There was something peculiar about his posture, chin propped on his hand and elbow on the armrest. He seemed untroubled by the boy's approach.

"I...khh...!"

Myeong Yeo could not answer. His pale throat kept working. He seemed to be swallowing blood.

'Has he suffered an internal injury?'

Jung Yeonshin considered it. Wind Body, his new movement technique. He had received a tremendous gift just before setting out into the world. A faint trace of goodwill appeared on his face. He was grateful to the eunuch Myeong Yeo, who had effectively brought him a martial art. The new Radiant Demon Squad captain's eyes softened considerably.

"His core energy appears to be discomfited."

The boy answered for him. They were in the presence of the imperial grandson, a direct member of the imperial bloodline. He thought this would be better than something as blunt as saying the man had suffered an internal injury. Taking his hand from his chin, the imperial grandson began to laugh loudly.