What sort of person was the Desolate Fortress’s captain of the Radiant Demon Squad?

It was one of the questions occupying the Martial Alliance. Whenever anyone considered who might dominate the founding ceremony, he emerged as a leading contender among the supreme masters. Of all the representatives of major sects visiting Martial Alliance headquarters, he wielded the greatest influence. They needed to learn both his martial capabilities and his character.

“Perhaps we should speak with the White Qilin.”

“Namgoong Hwashin...? Yes, he was renowned for his upright character. But he is a warrior of the Desolate Fortress now.”

“He keeps company with the man who killed his own elder brother. All that talk of his upright character, of the Blue and White Twin Qilins being the finest brothers in the martial world... I think it was all empty rumor. Anyone can put on a respectable face at something like the Dragon-Phoenix Summit, can’t they?”

“Couldn’t it simply mean he bears no grudges? I heard the duel between Lightning Genius and the Blue Qilin was a fair fight to the death. If anything, that makes Hwashin a model of the righteous orthodox path...”

“Young Master Gongsun, I suggest you first learn to distinguish friend from foe.”

Six people, including Murong Mingjun and Ak Yerim, walked on. Every one of them was young. The banquet was still two days away, and their destination was clear: the residence of the blind master who had won the hearts of countless Alliance warriors in a matter of months.

Lady Ye.

She was the niece of the Ye Sword School’s leader and the young mistress of the Ye Merchant Company. The company had contributed an enormous sum in gold toward the establishment of Alliance headquarters. Her standing was exceptional.

She possessed both a bold, openhearted nature and a beautiful face. Her extraordinary martial prowess, which belied the cloth covering her eyes, added to her appeal.

Warriors of noble clans were not wandering swordsmen. Some valued money above the sword. In other words, they knew precisely how powerful someone with both martial might and wealth could be.

Anyone might fall under her spell, man or woman alike. Many warriors were said to be lovesick over her. Even among the regional noble clans, more than a few kept track of her movements while pretending otherwise.

“The Ye Merchant Company must have access to excellent intelligence. I wonder what she thinks of Lightning Genius.”

“What I most want to know is Lady Ye’s name.”

“Didn’t she say her family has an unusual custom, and she can reveal her name only to her betrothed? Are you revealing your ulterior motives?”

“It was only a passing remark. Why so sensitive?”

They chatted as they walked over the neatly laid stone paving.

“Lady” was a respectful form of address for a young woman of distinguished family. For members of the Eight Families, including the Murong and Zhuge clans, to use it with genuine respect meant her status was far from ordinary. These were people who behaved like royalty in their own territories. Their respect was further proof of Lady Ye’s standing.

“We’re here.”

Murong Mingjun looked ahead.

The residence was strikingly ornate even by the standards of headquarters. Graceful curves swept down from the outer roof into the rafters. It rivaled the Court of Graceful Fragrance assigned to the Radiant Demon Squad captain—in other words, it was no less impressive than the residence the Alliance leadership had given him expressly to draw everyone’s attention.

“Lady Ye has been informed of our visit,” Murong Mingjun told the man standing beside the entrance.

The man was unusually burly for a servant, with a robust presence. He stood like a gatekeeper, his bearing disciplined.

After looking at him briefly, the servant turned his head to the side.

“May I admit them?”

“Yes.”

The answer was brief, the voice smooth enough to erase their slight displeasure with the servant. The core energy that tickled their ears along with the reply was oddly domineering, yet not unpleasant. It was a peculiar kind of internal power.

‘That isn’t the Ye Sword School’s internal energy. The rumors that she studied under a secluded eccentric must be true,’ Murong Mingjun thought.

CLUNK.

Without a word, the servant took the door handle and swung the door aside. Murong Mingjun studied his hand. It was callused.

‘He’s trained in martial arts, and to a considerable level. If he’s posing as an unarmed servant, he must be Lady Ye’s confidant... How very strange.’

The party crossed the threshold. Following the servant through the main hall, they entered a spacious study. A curtain hung before the seat of honor, preventing host and guests from seeing one another’s faces.

“You never struck me as shy when we met outside.”

Murong Mingjun smiled as he teased her. Lady Ye’s silhouette beyond the curtain took his breath away.

She reclined against the backrest, her long legs crossed. Waves of destructive core energy flowed from her figure with a terrifying allure. Had there been a sinister quality to those fluctuations of internal power, he might have mistaken her for an aristocrat of the Blood Flame Cult.

“Could we not meet face-to-face? That single sheet of silk is terribly bothersome.”

“I don’t want to look at ugly mugs even in my own home,” Lady Ye said.

She had no intention of drawing the curtain.

Her outrageous words suited her bearing astonishingly well. Even remarks bordering on abuse became the merry jokes of a bold hero when she uttered them. Her looks, presence, and background—all familiar to her visitors—made it so.

“But I’m pretty, aren’t I? Surely I’m all right? May I come inside, dear Ye? I want to see you.”

Ak Yerim deliberately put on a winsome air, tilting her head slightly from side to side. The answer was indifferent.

“Just tell me what you want.”

“Aww...”

Ak Yerim lowered her head dejectedly.

They had once gone on an outing together. With the great factions of the Thirteen skies running rampant amid the famine, Lady Ye had slain a Blood Master Swordsman who had nearly beheaded Ak Yerim. She had shattered his head with a single backhanded blow. It had been truly astounding.

The Yue clan of Shandong was an orthodox clan with a long history. Ak Yerim understood gratitude and wanted to repay her debt. But Lady Ye would allow no one past a certain distance. The invisible line was unmistakable.

That was why the Alliance’s young warriors could only swallow their yearning. She possessed an appeal unlike anything they had ever encountered, yet they could never grow truly close to her. Even masters from the Eight Families, such as Ak Yerim, Murong Mingjun, and Zhuge Hyeon, were no exception.

Nor could they compel her by force. The Martial Alliance was a recently formed coalition. Its sources of revenue had not been standardized, making budgets and accounts exceedingly complicated. Continued support from major financial backers such as the Ye Merchant Company was essential.

‘We’ve been tracing the flow, but we still can’t identify the source of her wealth. It’s been so long since I gave the order to my clan... When will they finally produce results?’

Murong Mingjun pushed his thoughts aside and spoke.

“We have come to seek your wisdom, my lady. We need an unconventional approach, something hidebound warriors like myself and Sister Ak could never conceive.”

“Wisdom?”

Lady Ye’s shadow tilted its head slightly. Her voice rose at the end, almost sounding incredulous. Murong Mingjun’s lips curved.

“The newly appointed captain of the Radiant Demon Squad has come as the Desolate Fortress’s envoy. You must have heard.”

“...”

“He is quite the headache. Since the Desolate Fortress is the very reason our Alliance was formed, we can hardly send him home unscathed. We must humiliate him somehow... but we can find no opening. Instead, he is building his reputation by teaching those who visit him. There’s no denying he’s an exceptional fellow.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Hmm? You mean the Radiant Demon Squad captain?” Murong Mingjun asked with a chuckle.

“...”

No answer came. Only the translucent curtain stirred faintly before them. The servant by the door alone flinched for no apparent reason. The indifferent expression he had shown Murong Mingjun, Ak Yerim, and the other noble-clan visitors faltered.

“Your words always exceed my imagination, my lady. But we cannot behead an envoy. A Black-ranked supreme master would hardly submit quietly, and if he chose to flee, he would not be easy to catch. Humiliating him will suffice.”

“He killed my betrothed,” Ak Yerim added. “I told you about him before, didn’t I? The Blue Qilin, Namgoong Sejin. He may have fallen victim to the Desolate Fortress’s characteristic ruthlessness. I cannot simply let his killer go. He must be an utterly wicked man.”

The boy from the Gongsun clan beside her sighed. No one looked his way.

“The Blue Qilin?”

Lady Ye repeated the name. A strange interest seemed to color her voice. Ak Yerim brightened.

“Yes, yes, that’s right. Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin...”

“It must mean a great deal.”

Lady Ye interrupted her, a curious anticipation rippling through her voice.

“The summer of his sixteenth year. That was when the Radiant Demon Squad captain took part in the Namgoong clan’s duels. Isn’t that an age when everything leaves a deep impression? And according to my... secret informants, the young captain is alluringly cruel and chillingly arrogant. Try mentioning the Blue Qilin to him yourself. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“You mean he’s like someone from the Blood Flame Cult? I knew it... The Ye Merchant Company’s covert network really must be extensive. Surely your agents aren’t as capable as the Beggars’ Sect’s? But... what do you mean, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it?”

“It means get out. I have something to lie back and savor.”

* * *

“I am Ak Yerim of the Yue clan of Shandong.”

As she addressed the Radiant Demon Squad captain, wrapped in that rather handsome skin of his, Ak Yerim’s heart pounded with hatred.

This boy had taken from her the man she had loved all her life. After hearing of Namgoong Sejin’s death, she had spent a long time refusing all food and drink. Ironically, what had driven her to eat and train again was the thought that she would one day see Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin once more.

“Jung Yeonshin, captain of the Radiant Demon Squad,” the boy replied.

She knew. She knew all too well. She had long since burned his likeness into her eyes. She could recall it even in her dreams.

The rising talent who had slain the Blue Qilin, Namgoong Sejin.

She had expected to meet him somehow among the upper ranks of the martial world. She had been right. At last they had met—after he had risen to a position where she could not even put a sword to him.

She resented the heavens. What if the Alliance had declared war on the Desolate Fortress the moment it was founded? She could have mobilized all her clan’s strength to avenge her beloved.

“I understand you witnessed the Blue Qilin’s final moments. I was his betrothed,” Ak Yerim said slowly.

A sadistic impulse stirred as she gazed down at the boy seated with such dignity.

Did he know the worth of the man he had killed? That noble character and those fine looks could have made him a symbol of the righteous orthodox path. He could never know how heartbreaking it had been to feel Sejin’s face against her breast as he wept after sending his younger brother Hwashin away from the family.

“The man I knew was a hypocrite. He was forever hiding his family’s shame behind seemingly fair and upright conduct.”

A man who would have become a great gallant hero was now a lonely ghost by his hand. What did he think of Sejin? Had it ended with nothing more than a grand commendation for merit from his Desolate Fortress? How satisfied had he been after killing him?

How contemptible the Desolate Fortress was, to count even the murder of a gallant hero as a worthy deed.

“I wonder what you think, Young Master. You fought him to the death as an accomplished warrior yourself. Surely you felt the nature of Namgoong Sejin’s character more deeply than anyone.”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm her as she spoke. She could only whisper the words on her breath.

If he agreed with her, she, Ak Yerim of Shandong, would lower her estimation of him without limit. It was the powerless revenge of an orthodox warrior who followed the righteous path. He was no better than a wandering swordsman whose only distinction was his formidable skill.

This was how distinguished families took revenge. They began by stripping away their opponent’s dignity.

All the Alliance warriors present knew anyway. Ak Yerim was not truly disparaging the Blue Qilin. She was merely probing the captain, offering him an excuse to justify the outcome of his own duel. Murong Mingjun and several other warriors nearby were watching with interest.

“You. You speak too lightly of the Blue Qilin. You are tarnishing his dignity.”

Unbelievable words escaped the Radiant Demon Squad captain’s lips. Ak Yerim looked at the boy’s face. His dark, sharply defined brows were drawn together. He looked distinctly angry.

“I have no interest in the schemes of lesser warriors.”

The Radiant Demon Squad captain slowly rose. Fluctuations of internal power began to rise around him, sharp beyond measure. He had not even touched his sword hilt, yet it felt as though he were releasing the force waves of sword strikes without a blade.

“Why you invited me, what you find so entertaining—none of it amounts to anything beside the Blue Qilin. Even if I attain Purple rank, he will remain my equal. Let me make this clear.”

The new captain’s pitch-black robes fluttered. The waves of qi drove home the meaning of that black robe once more. In the Desolate Fortress, they said, only captains were entitled to wear it.

“From this day forward, none of you rising-generation disciples are to speak to me. You lower my standing.”

It happened as the boy moved his lips.

WHOOSH!

A sword burned itself into Ak Yerim’s vision. Its blade was descending straight toward her.

How close was it? She had not even seen him draw. That keen line washed out every color around it. A single blade filled her entire vision.

Her heart hammered. Every sense in her body seemed to insist that this was real. The sword wind brushing coldly over her skin certainly was.

For an instant, she could not believe it. He would kill her here? Her?

WHOOOOSH!

Ak Yerim dropped to the floor without thinking—the worst possible response from a warrior. That was how overwhelming the sword strike felt.

But nothing happened. Only a faint breeze slipping through a gap in the window caressed the banquet hall’s silence.

Dazed, she lifted her head and met the eyes of the boy standing with his hands behind his back. He had never drawn his sword.

His bearing was haughty enough for her to understand Lady Ye’s words. Alluringly cruel and chillingly arrogant. Exactly as her secret informants had described him.

“The Blue Qilin remained standing.”

The Radiant Demon Squad captain brought his hands out from behind his back as he spoke. Then he brushed his sleeve and lowered his eyes slightly. He seemed to be reflecting on something. A memory of the Blue Qilin? Or perhaps he was reviewing the technique he had just unleashed.

Ak Yerim’s eyes widened.

‘That was a feint? That?’

Suddenly, she became aware of her surroundings. She had not been the only victim. There were several others. Murong Mingjun, for one, had sunk into a deep crouch with his sword half drawn. He seemed slower to realize the truth than Ak Yerim, who had been meeting the captain’s eyes.

“What...?”

“How many people did that just affect? Could it be the sword of the heart?”

Belatedly, the banquet hall stirred.

The Radiant Demon Squad captain defied expectation at every turn, both in his defense of the Blue Qilin and in the technique he had just displayed. For these gifted young warriors of the righteous orthodox path, it was difficult to accept. It did not feel real—not even when a strikingly handsome swordsman opened the banquet hall’s doors and entered.

“Captain.”

The White Qilin, Namgoong Hwashin, approached with a dignified bearing. Was this the proper etiquette toward a captain? He immediately dropped to one knee before the Radiant Demon Squad captain and clasped his hands in a martial salute.

He seemed unconcerned by the many familiar faces around him. It was befitting of a young man nobler than anyone else present.

“He looks so much like the Blue Qilin. There’s no choosing between the brothers’ looks.”

“More importantly, that impeccable deference... Is the White Qilin truly the Radiant Demon Squad captain’s sword?”

Those who belonged to no faction murmured among themselves.

The White Qilin thought nothing of lowering himself, despite being one of the foremost young masters from a distinguished family. It dealt another blow to those hesitantly rising around them. Across the room, Murong Mingjun straightened, his brows drawing together.

Namgoong Hwashin did not spare him a glance.

He spoke.

“I waited until the matter was settled.”

“There was no need.”

The boy’s stern gaze softened considerably. It was a world apart from how he treated the Supreme Flame Dragon and the other noble-clan warriors. Namgoong Hwashin smiled faintly.

“The Sword Star has requested a meeting.”

“The Sword Star? The Martial Alliance Leader?” the boy asked.

“Yes.”

Just then, Heon Wonchang abruptly rose from his seat. After a quick look around, he approached his young captain and briskly dusted off the character for “Desolate” on his shoulder. Then he looked from Ak Yerim to Murong Mingjun and smiled.

“Enjoy yourselves.”