“Swimming through the sky? Anyone can do that.”

Jung Yeonshin clasped his hands behind his back and murmured. A brief silence followed.

The Martial Alliance expert, hurled a good ten feet from the watchtower, plummeted. Astonishment colored the breath that escaped him in a daze.

He fell limply like a bird that had lost its wings, but the strike had not killed him outright. His qi fluctuations were still perceptible, merely wavering unsteadily.

'Of course.'

The boy reflected that this was not controlling a sword with qi. Even Jung Yeonshin did not know that transcendent sword art. Its martial principles remained beyond his understanding.

The subtleties of Blossoms Raining Across the Sky had merely looked like sword control. Since the subject had come up, he had tried using them. In other words, the attack carried no wave of force from his martial power.

Nor was it a barrage of small blades severing blood vessels one by one, so it lacked the power to snuff out a martial expert's tenacious life in a single blow.

That was fine. It was deliberate.

“A sharp blade. You've maintained it well,” the boy said.

The young captain of the Radiant Demon Squad jerked his chin toward the fallen enemy in the distance, glancing at Murong Mingjun, who was staring at him in dismay. He meant for Mingjun to fetch the sprawled enemy while retrieving his sword.

Yeonshin murmured inwardly. The sight of you makes the crown of my head ache.

“What...!”

Murong Mingjun's eyes widened. Born into an illustrious family that honored the Xianbei of Liaodong as its ancestors, he had grown up as the heir to a most dignified regional noble clan of Murim.

He had never needed to bow to anyone but his family's elders. Even at Alliance headquarters, the leaders of small and medium-sized sects had fawned over him.

He had never imagined suffering such humiliation at the hands of a boy not yet fully grown.

'I was too hasty in holding that banquet.'

Even as humiliation stung him, he thought as befitted someone of noble standing. His emotions cooled.

He had rented the hall where Ak Yerim sought to test the Radiant Demon Squad captain's character, and personally sent the invitation. That seemed to have earned the captain's suspicion.

Outside the Alliance, Jung Yeonshin was different again. He conducted himself as a supreme master of an entirely different standing.

As Mingjun reluctantly set off, he felt a gaze boring into the back of his head. It carried a cold, arrogant presence.

'Let's see whether you can keep this up once we're back at headquarters.'

Mingjun hoisted the groaning Martial Alliance expert onto his shoulder. He saw a young man every bit as irritating as the captain nodding at him.

According to his subordinates' reports, the fellow changed the style of the hero's headband around his forehead every day. He was called Heon Wonchang, the great hero of Desolate Fortress.

“Our captain says that, though he borrowed your sword in the heat of the moment, his admiration outweighs his regret. The Murong clan's treasured swords certainly live up to their reputation. The propulsion of an emission formula alone was enough to break through that man's protective force qi.”

The words maintained appearances while needling the listener. They also elevated his captain.

He was reminding Mingjun that Yeonshin had subdued a Martial Alliance expert with a sword strike carrying no wave of force. The implication was to do whatever he was told without complaint.

“...”

Mingjun returned without a word and lowered the warrior to the ground. Concerned about bleeding, he left the sword in place.

Yeonshin looked down at the man. Even at a glance, his condition was poor. Only the tenacious vitality peculiar to martial artists was keeping him alive through the impalement.

Around then, the enemies lying in ambush charged.

THUD!

Harsh sounds of feet kicking off the earth rang out from every direction, resonating powerfully. This was no ordinary movement technique.

Clad in leather armor, the men raced forward like massively built warhorses. Pulses of core energy expelled from the Yongquan points in their soles produced strange shock waves. Their continuous reverberation sounded like hoofbeats.

The Martial Alliance. The martial army raised by the vassal prince of Henan Province.

After a short pursuit, they were finally clashing in earnest. Yeonshin recalled traveling with Namgoong Sejin.

He had witnessed the essence of orthodox swordsmanship, embodying the call to exterminate the demons. The sight of Sejin unleashing the king-style sword arts and unhesitatingly beheading the Alliance warriors remained vivid.

That meant Sejin, too, had considered them deserving of death. The Blue Qilin, Namgoong Sejin. Would he have been here with them if his family's affairs had not forced his hand?

The boy quietly moved his lips.

“Leave only two alive.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon and Heon Wonchang reacted instantly. This was real combat. Neither bothered to answer before moving.

The Nameless and White-ranked warriors of Desolate Fortress met the Martial Alliance's pursuit-blocking detachment.

WHUM!

Fluctuations of martial power arose on both sides, laden with intense heat and killing intent. The first screams came from the direction the Supreme Flame Dragon had taken.

The smell of burning flesh accompanied them. From Wonchang's side came the slicing sound of air being cleaved.

Meanwhile, Yeonshin inclined his head slightly. The man impaled by the flying-sword application of Blossoms Raining Across the Sky was heaving for breath.

He did not look as though he would live long. The sword borrowed from Mingjun had pierced his abdominal cavity from below.

It had cut through his stomach beneath his chest, grazed his liver, and emerged through his back. With only warriors present, there was no hope for him. Vitality bolstered by internal energy was barely sustaining his breathing.

The man seemed to know it. In contrast to his heaving torso, his eyes were calm.

They were the eyes of a martial artist facing the River of Three Paths in the underworld. Even on the brink of death, the spirit of a martial expert remained powerful.

Yeonshin spoke.

“I hear you fill your bellies with plunder while training in martial arts. Walking the martial path in a famine must be no easy task.”

“Kill... me.”

The man spoke between labored breaths. Had he cultivated his mental cultivation method to a considerable level?

His breathing was astonishingly even for someone mortally wounded. Yeonshin watched him silently, then spoke.

“You were defeated by the captain of Desolate Fortress's Radiant Demon Squad. Remember that.”

He stood proudly. The man lying at his feet looked up at him, and the boy lowered only his eyes a fraction to meet his gaze.

“I am the Fortress Master's direct disciple. How does it feel to be pierced by a true qi-controlled sword? An ultimate technique you could never learn in your lifetime.”

“Black rank at your age... and sword control besides. Hard to believe.”

The man smiled faintly. His rambling words came in broken fragments.

“The Radiant Demon Squad captain of the rumors... really does exist.”

“I've shown you courtesy. Are you willing to answer my questions?” Yeonshin asked calmly.

Only then did a certain emotion cross the man's face. The captain had identified himself by his martial renown and named his ultimate technique.

A Black-ranked supreme master of Desolate Fortress whose name was spreading throughout the world had paid him respect. A warrior of the evil and unorthodox paths might go an entire lifetime without experiencing such a thing.

“Hah.”

His feeble exhalation ended in a laugh.

Death was upon him. An indescribable emotion was inevitable. Even a monster from one of the great factions of the Thirteen skies was a warrior, and a human being. Slowly, he spoke.

“I'm on my way out... No military discipline left to uphold. What do you want to know?”

“Your routes.”

“There are two. West Peak Road, Seven Multitudes Gorge...”

“How many? Give me each.”

“One hundred fifty. Two hundred.”

“Which group is the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon with?”

“I don't know.”

“What?”

“The Sword Demon frequently goes into the mountains to train. He takes no interest in leading us. His two disciples decide our destinations. I have no way of knowing which group he joined.”

His speech grew smoother. The final rally before death.

It was the moment a martial artist's last breath of internal energy poured out with his remaining vitality. Yeonshin compared his account with the document the Sword Star had given him.

He brought the precious map to mind and reviewed the information. The troop numbers and pattern of movement roughly matched. It seemed trustworthy.

For a moment, the boy silently looked down at him.

The fallen man's breaths were fading. Whatever lingering attachment he had to life, he seemed satisfied as a warrior.

Yeonshin thought of his uncle. Ma Jin, the Hell Slaughterer. The imposing reputation his uncle had earned racing through Murim was immense.

It had been so even before Yeonshin joined. The captain of the Radiant Demon Squad was renowned throughout Murim, distinguished by his radiant demon arts, his sublime weapon skills, and his fame as a chivalrous warrior who protected ordinary people's livelihoods from martial artists.

That was why this Martial Alliance expert was closing his eyes with a contented expression.

Someone exalted had graced his final moments.

'Yet he belongs to a band of evil and unorthodox warriors who stole people's rice, destroyed their families, and showed no mercy to commoners' lives.'

Suddenly reminded of the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord, the boy spoke evenly.

“Actually, that wasn't controlling a sword with qi.”

“What...?”

“It was an unremarkable emission formula. You have no intention of apologizing to this village's people, do you? When you open your eyes in the Hell of Sword Trees, tell them you were sent there by a boy not yet twenty.”

“...!”

The man's eyes widened.

Yeonshin's cool gaze passed over his torso. Well-developed muscles were contracting around the puncture wound.

He had trained his external arts to a considerable level, one difficult to attain without far more than adequate meals.

He was an inhuman creature that had fed on the blood and tears of commoners.

The boy spoke again.

“A body built on plunder. Pathetic.”

His tone was icy.

The Radiant Demon Squad captain had judged his worth. Those words would carry great significance for any warrior.

Beside him, the Young Sword Empress caught her breath just as the man's eyes slipped slightly out of focus.

THWACK!

The Supreme Flame Dragon, already back, kicked the man in the head. A brief crack of bone sounded against his instep.

Death was instantaneous. His neck twisted, and he died.

“Well, let my foot get dirty, at least. Just make sure you give this young master plenty of merit points, Captain.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon grinned as he spoke.

He looked like someone who had seen a great deal of actual combat during his days as the Hwangbo young clan head. He showed no hesitation in killing an enemy who had lost all means of resisting.

Despite his jocular words, every aspect of his conduct carried resolve.

Enough so that Yeonshin suspected he would have to put him in the vanguard on occasion, however reluctantly, once they returned to the Fortress and reorganized the Radiant Demon Squad.

'Can he advance two ranks at once, from Nameless to Blue? Will I have to pull some strings as captain?'

It was worth considering. Showing none of those thoughts, the boy gave a curt order.

“... Clean up.”

“Clean up.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon looked around at the young Alliance warriors as he spoke. This was a place for honoring the dead commoners.

He meant that he had done the fighting, so they could remove the enemy corpses. Beside him, Wonchang nodded leisurely.

Silence still lingered.

Ak Yerim's disapproval was plain. The slight crease in her smooth forehead said enough.

Her opinion of Yeonshin had been poor from the start. She could hardly welcome the sight of him mocking an enemy incapable of resistance.

Yet she alone was frowning.

Zhuge Hyeon and Murong Mingjun remained composed. Their perspectives were broad. They had studied scholarship as deeply as martial arts.

They could surmise the feelings underlying the young captain's words and actions.

'The disposition of a proud gallant hero? The clan head won't like that.'

'If his character permeates his swordsmanship, an art rich in feints would be ideal against him.'

They laid out paper, brush, and ink in their minds and recorded the boy's deeds.

How this incident would be used depended on the future course of the Martial Alliance, the Zhuge Clan, and the Murong clan.

“So Blossoms Raining Across the Sky can be used that way, too? How do you concentrate the power of qi absorption on a single point?”

Young Sword Empress Chwi So-ok sounded as though she was talking to herself, but was openly asking him.

Curiosity filled her languid eyes. She was simply expressing her interest in martial arts.

Her gaze met the young captain's.

From Sichuan until now, the boy had ignored the Diancang Sect's Young Sword Empress.

Despite his cold treatment, Chwi So-ok had merely smiled vacantly and asked for a lesson.

Ceaselessly. Again and again.

Yeonshin suddenly recalled Diancang's Sun-Shooting Sword Art. It was a sword art said to pierce the sun with the tip of a blade.

An ultimate technique renowned throughout the world. The boy considered that the Radiant Sword Art had no thrusting forms.

“Oh? Want to give it a try? My sword qi is always ready.”

The Young Sword Empress brightened. Her perception was uncanny.

Yeonshin was a little tempted himself. He was in the midst of weaving together a new sword art.

Swordsmanship from one of the Nine Great Sects would be a tremendous help. After killing the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon, it would be worth serious consideration.

“Later.”

The boy shook his head and continued.

“West Peak Road and Seven Multitudes Gorge, he said. We'll split up. I'll divide the party. Killing the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon takes priority, so...”

It happened then.

“Young Master Murong.”

Gongsun Min, about Yeonshin's age, stepped forward, staring intently at the sword Mingjun had pulled from the corpse.

Greed showed on Min's face, ill-suited to the keen light flashing like lightning in those eyes. There was considerable earnestness there, too.

“Sell me that sword.”

“What?” Mingjun asked.

“How much is a Murong clan treasured sword worth...? I did bring quite a lot of gold.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know all about it. That blade carried the Radiant Demon Squad captain's Blossoms Raining Across the Sky. Tell people it's a sword wielded by Lightning Genius, the Hidden King Among Blossoms of Sichuan, and no wealthy collector would spare any expense. It's an incredible collectible.”

“...”

“Let me have it. Please.”

An ill-timed squabble broke out.

It was said that many martial artists lived in worlds of their own. The world was vast, and uniform education rare.

However lofty the teachings of the Four Books and Three Classics, the values of nobles who had become superhuman through martial cultivation differed starkly from one another.

Some were refined; others were barbaric and willful. Such were these troubled times.

The same held for the incredulous Mingjun and Gongsun Min, who had gone so far as to seize the sword's hilt.

Even among the Martial Alliance's experts, each person's behavior was difficult to predict.

'Create a new sword art while killing the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon, dominate the founding ceremony, then cross swords with the Sword Star... '

He could enjoy the process so much more without the Alliance warriors.

Keeping silent for a moment, Yeonshin decided he would take only Zhuge Hyeon and the Young Sword Empress.