The Martial Alliance's forces had reportedly split into two groups: West Peak Road and Seven Multitudes Gorge. Neither was very far away—a three-day journey using lightness skill.

'Between the Sword Star's information and the rumors, the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon certainly has strength befitting an elder of a major sect. I have to face him myself,' Jung Yeonshin thought.

The Supreme Flame Dragon might stand a chance if luck favored him. But he would have to risk his life. Yeonshin had no choice but to divide their forces carefully.

The Supreme Flame Dragon had to go separately from him. The reserves of qi granted by his Solar Divine Meridians were enormous. Setting density aside, the sheer volume of his internal energy surpassed Yeonshin's. His range for detecting qi waves was bound to be exceptionally broad. If the group without Yeonshin discovered the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon, he would have to serve as their means of detecting the enemy and returning without engaging.

"Understood."

Having heard Yeonshin's explanation, the Supreme Flame Dragon gave a casual nod and grinned. He seemed to think he had been given a task worthy of the Hwangbo Clan's young scion.

The boy wanted to disabuse him of that notion. Somehow, the fellow was irritating even when all he did was breathe. Here Yeonshin was, desperate to live, while the Supreme Flame Dragon enjoyed his remaining days to his heart's content. He was a little envious, too.

"Respect the hierarchy," Yeonshin said.

"Ah, you mean a mere Nameless shouldn't get ahead of a white robe."

The Supreme Flame Dragon glanced at Heon Wonchang and smirked. Beside him, the great hero of Desolate Fortress puffed out his chest and cleared his throat for no reason.

By then, Gongsun Min and Murong Mingjun had settled their dispute.

"I'll hang it in my room and show it off to little sister Eon."

Gongsun Min murmured the words in a singsong voice.

Grinning, Gongsun Min gazed at the sword still hanging at Mingjun's waist as though it were already theirs. Apparently, they had agreed to hand it over once they returned. They were noble clan scions; some bargain must have been struck. Yeonshin had no desire to concern himself with its details. To turn a sword into a collectible just because he had used it for a single attack—different from the Seventh Apostle's peculiarities, but every bit as strange.

"This is how we'll split up."

The boy explained calmly, beginning with his plan to group himself with Zhuge Hyeon and the Young Sword Empress. He then said Heon Wonchang and the Supreme Flame Dragon should lead Murong Mingjun, Gongsun Min, and Ak Yerim.

His pitch-black eyes swept over them once. Gongsun Min and the other Alliance warriors did not avoid his gaze. Only their dominant hands twitched.

"You see all sorts of things when you're nearing the end of your life."

The Supreme Flame Dragon's lips curled. The wastrel Hwangbo young clan head could guess what they were thinking.

They were self-conscious, wondering how they looked to this unfathomable young master. The gaze of a master recognized as a genius tended to make lesser warriors shrink. It made them reconsider everything from the footwork attainment evident in their stride to the depth of their breathing. Even the foremost warriors of the younger generation, hailed as prodigies in their homelands, were no exception.

But none of that interested the boy in black.

"Don't engage the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon."

The young captain of the Radiant Demon Squad meant that they were not to let a thirst for glory drive them to draw their blades recklessly. There was no condescension in his voice. Both his expression and his tone were so calm that none of the young warriors who initially bristled could find anything to say.

A long arm rose among them. Ak Yerim raised her hand and stared steadily at Yeonshin.

"I don't understand. We're already a small force facing overwhelming numbers, and you want to split us up...?"

"The sooner we kill the Sword Demon, the fewer commoners will die. It'll be easier to mop up the Martial Alliance rabble once they fall into disarray, too."

Heon Wonchang answered with a slow shake of his head.

His manner was every bit as irritating as the Supreme Flame Dragon's. Her eyes sharpening, Ak Yerim spoke.

"That doesn't seem to be the only reason."

"You understand perfectly."

"What? Explain properly. Stop being sarcastic."

"There's a little over ten days until the founding ceremony. That's precious little time to travel from place to place and fight masters along the way. But spending too long out in the hinterlands leaves me deeply uneasy."

Instead of backing down, Heon Wonchang frowned and jabbed an accusing finger.

"Your acting chief strategist tried something underhanded during his meeting with our captain! And was that all? You told us to stay right in the middle of the Alliance and gave us the Court of Graceful Fragrance as our lodging, but it was a place where we couldn't even practice regulated breathing and circulation at night without worrying some crazed orthodox bastard might attack us. Outrageous doesn't begin to describe it!"

"... It was petty. I admit that. But what does that have to do with this?"

Ak Yerim lowered her lashes slightly and asked in a much calmer voice. The corners of Heon Wonchang's mouth rose.

"It means we can't afford to remain cut off from everything. Who knows what tricks your people at headquarters might pull? To put it bluntly, you could suddenly change the rules of the founding tournament, couldn't you? Move the schedule forward at short notice, for instance."

"What?"

"I can imagine how your Alliance feels. What wouldn't you do to stop the powerful, hostile captain of the Radiant Demon Squad from winning?"

"The Martial Alliance wouldn't stoop to that. Who doesn't know it would make us the laughingstock of the world?"

"Would it, now? Surely that would be better than showing everyone the alternative. Your Alliance's masters all getting beaten by our Fortress's young supreme master, I mean."

"..."

"That's why we can't let this drag on. Do you understand now, Lady Warrior of the Ak Clan—no... young warrior? Don't complain about how I address you. Our captain calls sky sword dragon wiji myohwa a great hero, and however I look at it, your standing seems lower than the Sword Dragon's."

So spoke Desolate Fortress's Silver Tongue. That was what Heon Wonchang was openly called within the Radiant Demon Squad. It was something of a minor epithet, though he alone insisted on Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior. In Yeonshin's eyes, both suited him.

'Could the Supreme Flame Dragon and Young Master Heon both rise to blue rank at the same time? Young Master Heon's martial arts have improved considerably, too.'

The boy approached with a slightly lighter step and tapped Heon Wonchang's shoulder, keeping the insulted Ak Yerim from rashly drawing her spear.

"I've said my piece, Captain."

Heon Wonchang gave a crisp martial salute, his posture conspicuously respectful. He seemed determined to needle the Alliance warriors a little more by any means he could. The boy slowly parted his lips.

"We split up here."

"The way I see it, Captain, you've got quite a knack for bad luck."

The Supreme Flame Dragon slung his travel pack over one shoulder as he spoke.

"You might run straight into the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon as soon as you arrive. You, not me. With rumors of qi-controlled swordsmanship going around, he's bound to be an incredibly powerful old monster. Don't go rashly thinking of charging in alone. If you want to walk the martial world unchallenged, you must always keep something in reserve. Get surrounded while facing a hostile supreme master, and there's no way out."

"Advice a lesser warrior ought to remember."

Yeonshin meant that he understood perfectly. The Supreme Flame Dragon, who had lived among the upper echelons of the martial world since birth, grinned.

"I'll come find you, provided I don't die. West Peak Road lies west, and Seven Multitudes Gorge is roughly northwest."

"That's a roundabout way of asking me to come help. The Sword Demon is your captain's prey. Don't overdo it," the boy replied.

Sunlight lay over the smoke rising all around them. Outside the ruined village, the party scattered in two directions. They were setting out to hunt the followers of evil and unorthodox paths who were fanning the flames of chaos. No one was watching them—of that there was no doubt. Yet every leader of the Martial Alliance was keenly focused on their mission.

THUD!

Dust swirled as the young masters drove their feet against the earth with their lightness skills. The common people's grievances ran deep. Leaving the bleak, dead village behind, a gust full of life swept outward: gallant heroes racing ahead, the spears and swords of vengeance strapped to their backs and waists.

* * *

Day after day, a festive mood filled Martial Alliance headquarters. The public notices posted virtually throughout the Central Plains were proving effective. It seemed every warrior in the martial world had heard of the Alliance's formation. They came in staggering numbers.

"What a pity. A supreme master from Desolate Fortress fought the Zhuge Clan's Fan Dragon, you say? I should have come a month earlier."

"Don't speak of that lightly. Rumor has it the Alliance's masters are everywhere in the marketplaces. One wrong word could get you into trouble."

"Why is that?"

"The young master from Desolate Fortress wore a black robe. Didn't you say you were from Southern Zhili? You must have heard the name Lightning Genius."

"Of course. Don't tell me...?"

Wealthy men and commoners who had heard rare tidings also arrived in an unending stream. The scarcer food became, the greater the value of martial strength. Great power could draw both gold and provisions. Soon the Martial Alliance would truly surpass Desolate Fortress in might. Having gathered half the martial world, the Alliance was a spirit beast that laid golden eggs.

Heroes of every stripe filled Hanzhong. The inns and private homes around headquarters were packed. In the taverns, night and day lost all distinction. Busybodies with epithets of their own, sword commentators who committed the sparring matches of warriors to prose, and martial artists without enough renown to enter Alliance headquarters all gathered there. Voices debating the affairs of the martial world rang loud.

The scale surpassed even Desolate Fortress. Dozens of merchant companies were said to have brought wagon trains, hoping to establish themselves in Hanzhong. Few were not eagerly awaiting the founding ceremony. It was a year of poor harvests, a time when people yearned for the strength to protect even a grain of rice. In taverns rented out in their entirety, the merchants' discussions never ended.

"Can people like us really watch the founding tournament?"

"I'm quite a competent reader, you know. Not some peculiar merchant like you who can do sums without even knowing the Thousand Character Classic. If the notice on the wall is true, we'll be allowed to see the Martial Alliance ourselves."

"Oh...! Then we can find some capable warriors. See them with our own eyes, too. Though we could hardly hope to hire the masters who distinguish themselves in the tournament..."

"More than that, I want to see how masters wield their blades. If I can learn to recognize even their opening stances or their bearing, I won't get fleeced next time I hire a wandering warrior."

"I'll have to keep that in mind myself."

"I hear a master from Desolate Fortress is participating as an envoy, too. That's the second thing—or perhaps the first—we ought to watch closely. If Desolate Fortress makes a good showing here, there's no telling how the balance might shift. People follow a striking spectacle. Trade might pour into Xiangyang, where the Fortress itself stands, rather than here in Hanzhong."

"I wonder. Isn't the Martial Alliance the one staging this grand affair? I hear the Zhuge Clan, which was already based here in Hanzhong, is at its heart. Surely they wouldn't have invited Desolate Fortress without confidence they could win. They must have their calculations."

"True enough, but... the rumors about Desolate Fortress's young supreme master are extraordinary."

"I know. I've gathered information from as far as Sichuan. If we're to spend money and establish connections in advance, we need to predict the outcome. Let's compare what we've heard. The names I hear most are Lightning Genius, the Hidden King Among Blossoms; the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist; and Mount Hua's Sword Saint. They look like the strongest contenders to me, too. The elders won't be competing."

"The leader of the Plum Blossom Swordsmen has come down from Mount Hua? That noble swordsman? I had no idea! Are they trying to stop the noble clans from dominating...?"

"Which would you back if you were investing? To my mind, Eon Hwaryeon, the Eon Clan's foremost, seems the safest choice. The Zhuge Clan will surely pit Lightning Genius against the Sword Saint first."

"... A difficult choice indeed."

This was the center of upheaval. A new order was budding in the martial world.

* * *

Four days passed. Jung Yeonshin was accompanied by a man and a woman: Fan Dragon Zhuge Hyeon and Spear Phoenix Ak Yerim. The Young Sword Empress, whom he had originally intended to bring, had joined Heon Wonchang and the Supreme Flame Dragon instead. Just as the groups were about to separate, Yeonshin had changed the arrangement out of concern for the other party's strength.

'The Young Sword Empress will be more help than the Ak Clan spear practitioner. Young Master Heon and the Supreme Flame Dragon have to survive.'

He had made that decision as captain of the Radiant Demon Squad. Black was a rank that required him to command. He had considered the balance of strength between the two groups. With the Young Sword Empress among them, the Supreme Flame Dragon could make even better use of his power. Before creating the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art, Yeonshin could not have guaranteed even a sixty-percent chance of defeating him. The party headed to Seven Multitudes Gorge should therefore be able to handle masters of major sects.

The Supreme Flame Dragon, an unranked disciple. Both possessed talent of the highest order, but the years between them made a significant difference. At the Dragon-Phoenix Summit, Yeonshin had taken the upper hand because they had competed purely in perception. Even after growing further since then, he remained a difficult opponent. It would not be strange for Yeonshin to lose three or four bouts out of ten. There were too many variables in a fight.

How the sequence of unleashed forms matched up against an opponent's, the flow of internal power that day, the minute bodily changes caused by the state of the fine meridians... The world of masters was exceedingly complex.

'The Supreme Flame Dragon's rotten character makes him good at provoking people. If he got to me, I'd be starting half a move behind.'

The boy thought this as he glanced at Ak Yerim, whom he had taken in exchange for the Young Sword Empress. It had been a good decision for Heon Wonchang's party.

The Young Sword Empress was said to be a swordswoman comparable to wiji myohwa. Rumor even claimed she had mastered the Diancang Sect's Sun-Shooting Sword Art to its utmost. If she coordinated well with the Supreme Flame Dragon, Heon Wonchang, and the others, they could reasonably hope to survive even against a supreme master of Black rank.

"What?"

Ak Yerim shot him a sidelong glare when she noticed the captain's gaze. Yeonshin answered casually.

"I'm saying it's good you came."

"What utter nonsense...!"

The boy stepped forward in silence, paying no heed to her startled reaction. They had just reached their destination: West Peak Road in Hanzhong Prefecture.

It was broad. The undergrowth had been cleared on both sides of the expansive road, leaving the mountain ranges on either side plainly visible. Rather than an official highway, it was better described as a temporary encampment—a place where armies, merchant companies, and escort agencies stopped for a night on long journeys.

The tents pitched on the evenly packed earth gave the place a forbidding air. Warriors stood guard here and there. Unlike ordinary martial artists, they wore leather armor. Some organized force had taken up residence.

Yeonshin narrowed his eyes. It took little guesswork to recognize them: the Martial Alliance's martial army.

"They seem to have made it an outpost."

Beside him, Zhuge Hyeon spoke, drawing the iron fan at his waist slightly as his eyes flashed. He seemed to have activated a secret technique of the Zhuge Clan. An extraordinary presence rose from him as he scrutinized the camp.

Could he see through the tents? Yeonshin could sense uncanny qi waves behind Zhuge Hyeon's handsome eyes. He had channeled internal power into the Tongziliao points near his eyes. It was an exquisite eye technique, a discipline that seemed to border on sorcery.

'An eye technique.'

Interest lit the young captain's eyes. Slowly, he spoke.

"Give me the broad strokes. We'll finish this in one swift battle and leave."