An afterimage of pure white light swept past. The wind, fierce enough to seem like a typhoon called down upon the earth, dispersed.

There were not even screams. The silence only settled deeper.

Thirty more corpses lay in the clearing on West Peak Road, accompanied by the metallic stench of blood that stained the undergrowth dark red.

The sight did not readily seem real. In life, they had been elite masters commanding the Martial Alliance's martial forces.

"..."

A chilling stillness lingered.

Every one of them had fallen to a single stroke. Each corpse bore only one straight line of a wound.

A swift, decisive engagement was usually a tactic employed by someone in unfavorable circumstances against an enemy with more room to spare. Judging by the outcome alone, however, they might have fallen to a peerless swordsman at his leisure.

And this had been a group evenly divided between the equivalents of the Desolate Fortress's Blue and White ranks.

SHING.

The boy swordsman standing alone at their center slowly sheathed his blade. His pitch-black sleeves rustled.

A Black-ranked warrior of the Desolate Fortress. The only supreme master present. The young captain of the Radiant Demon Squad presided over the bleak scene.

Zhuge Hyeon and Ak Yerim were speechless.

'Was that really a wave of force released from his sword? Its trajectory was bizarre, too. Unless he gave his mental image physical form through his sword path, how could such swordsmanship exist...?'

'What was that? What in the world just happened?'

It was truly astonishing, even after all the sword arts they had witnessed at the Martial Alliance.

It did not feel like the work of a human blade. Something uncanny seemed to accompany it, like the noble race's clan abilities.

There was only one sword art in the world that had reached the realm of supernatural powers. At least, only one that the two of them knew.

The Namgoong clan's king-style sword arts.

Swordsmanship whose waves of sword force displayed the might of a one-man army.

Even noble-race swordsmen who freely commanded the wind were said to be unable to escape the king's domain.

That was not limited to the swordsmanship of the Namgoong clan head or the Namgoong First Sword. The king-style sword arts mastered by the Blue Qilin, Namgoong Sejin, had also been acclaimed as an unrivaled art among the younger generation.

A blade unique beneath heaven. A sword art that made its wielder seem something beyond human.

Not anymore. It was no longer unique.

Something wondrous had blossomed from the high guard displayed by the captain of the Radiant Demon Squad.

Even with his clan's secret eye technique, Zhuge Hyeon had failed to analyze so much as thirty percent of it.

Nor did he feel inclined to try harder. He felt as though he had witnessed Namgoong Sejin's legacy.

'The captain has inherited the Blue Qilin's legacy—and freed himself from it.'

Sejin had become his immortal rival. From this day forward, Namgoong Sejin's stature would rise without end.

SNAP.

Zhuge Hyeon spread his fan wide and gazed steadily at Jung Yeonshin.

Was he organizing his insights? The boy stood with his head lowered and a hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

At his feet lay the middle-aged man in black combat gloves, astonishment frozen on his face.

Even in his final moment, he had not understood the swordsmanship. He looked as though he had realized only how hopelessly weak he was. And so he had died.

"I've finally put together one form."

Opening his eyes, the boy murmured quietly.

There had been no need to say it aloud. The spiritual nature overflowing within his body had drawn even his voice forth.

For a moment, Zhuge Hyeon doubted his ears.

'Put together?'

If he meant he had created that sword form here and now, it belonged to the realm of supernatural abominations.

It made no sense unless he was Bodhidharma or Zhang Sanfeng reborn.

The thought even crossed his mind that this might be an incarnation of the first leader of the Ming Cult, returned through the cycle of reincarnation.

Ak Yerim also wore an expression of disbelief.

The boy paid no heed to their reactions.

THWUMP!

He kicked off the ground. A wave of qi spread with a dull tremor.

Without warning, he had broken into a lightness-skill sprint. Zhuge Hyeon and Ak Yerim hurried after him.

"Do you believe the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon headed for Seven Multitudes Gorge?"

Zhuge Hyeon asked. Jung Yeonshin nodded without so much as turning his gaze.

"The man in the gloves was fairly strong. Someone an elder of the Martial Alliance could trust to guard his rear."

"Considering he still hasn't appeared, that certainly..."

Zhuge Hyeon's face darkened. He could not help worrying about Murong Mingjun and Gongsun Min.

Gongsun Min in particular was a young noble cherished by most of the Alliance's warriors. A bright, kind nature had endeared the young scion to everyone.

The possibility of Gongsun Min being killed was troubling in itself, and the repercussions for the Alliance Leader afterward were another concern.

Zhuge Hyeon was wary of his father. The clan head's cold devotion to the greater cause had weighed upon his childhood.

Only the Sword Star could keep the ruthless, ambitious Zhuge clan head in check. Yet responsibility for ordering this mission might leave him bearing a grave fault.

They could only hope for heaven's favor.

"We have to trust the Supreme Flame Dragon."

The young captain murmured. Zhuge Hyeon nodded.

Before the Lightning Genius appeared, the Supreme Flame Dragon had vied with the Blue Qilin for supremacy among the younger generation.

They had no choice but to trust the qi reserves granted by the Solar Divine Meridians and those keen senses.

'I told them repeatedly to avoid fighting. If they approached cautiously from the outskirts, they won't have clashed.'

So the boy thought.

WHOOOOSH!

He raced like a gale, enduring the pain spreading through his organs.

It came from the lower dantian beneath his navel and the region of his heart.

It was the same kind of internal injury the Divine Sword Squad Leader had suffered after swiftly subduing the Namgoong clan head. He had overexerted himself using swordsmanship he had yet to grow accustomed to.

He had done so to bring the fight to a quick conclusion. The brief moment he had spent with his eyes closed afterward had been to contain his internal injuries.

He suspected the gloved master he had killed was the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon's senior disciple.

As he wielded his sword, he had begun to surmise the Sword Demon's movements. He had needed to finish the battle quickly. Thinking of his companions, he could do nothing else.

He trusted the Supreme Flame Dragon's energy detection.

But the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon's subordinates he had faced were stronger than he had imagined.

They might not match Heon Wonchang, who claimed to be hiding seventy percent of his true strength, but the final thirty masters had been in a different class.

If the same held true at Seven Multitudes Gorge, there was no telling what complications might arise. It would not be strange if his companions were already facing the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon.

'If the Young Sword Empress can perform as well as the great hero Sword Dragon, they can escape.'

Was it because both were women, successor-disciples possessing exceptional swordsmanship?

He thought of wiji myohwa of the Zhongnan Sect, which, unlike Mount Hua and Diancang, had not come to the Alliance.

Perhaps she was somewhere out there now, walking the path of a chivalrous hero. The boy thought to himself.

Had there been more people in the martial world with hearts as kind as hers, even the famine years might have been bearable.

BOOM!

He drove his legs faster. The sensation of stone and earth being crushed together thrust back against his leather shoes. The force was violent. Streams of qi from the radiant wheel's rotation poured out beneath his feet.

His two companions gradually fell behind. The disparity in their martial prowess was laid bare.

'No!'

Ak Yerim bit her lip, recalling the letter she had received from her aunt.

The Desolate Divine Spear, Ak Surim. She had been dumbfounded by her aunt's talk of a young husband when the boy was not even twenty.

Having seen the captain today, she understood. He fully possessed the standing of a Black rank. Given Ak Surim's eccentric nature, she might have been serious.

'His character... I need to see more of it...'

She had just witnessed swordsmanship that evoked her dead beloved. A single stroke that seemed to honor the Blue Qilin's soul.

It had brought the captain's words back to her afresh. He had said that even if he reached Purple one day, he would still honor Sejin as an equal.

She wanted to see more. She had to.

FLAP!

But the captain's black robe continued onward without pause. His pace was difficult to match.

She could only feel the wind that had brushed past his pitch-black hems. Ak Yerim's expression grew forlorn.

At this moment, she could neither reach out to call him nor catch hold of him. The boy's retreating figure receded without a backward glance.

'At the founding ceremony, I'll be sure to...!'

Ak Yerim's lashes lowered slightly over her eyes. She could not keep up with him now. She resolved to wait for another opportunity.

THUD!

Unheeding, Jung Yeonshin channeled power into the Yongquan points in his soles.

Though he intended to repay Zhuge Hyeon for the insight he had given him, he did not turn back.

"The Sky-Swimming Sword Demon has different epithets depending on the region and sect! In the Martial Alliance and around Henan, he is also called the Sword Exalted! His command of sword paths is bound to be more seasoned than yours, Captain. I suggest trusting your senses over your experience!"

Belatedly, the shout of the Fan Dragon, Zhuge Hyeon, rang out behind him.

Two days passed that way.

He ran alone for two days and two nights. Even he was surprised by his stamina.

The internal-energy endurance bestowed by the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art was truly tremendous. It harmonized perfectly with the body he had forged through the Movement Art.

He could distinctly feel his growing body racing toward completion.

The boy reached a cliff that curved into an immense wall of stone. He planted his feet on one side of a low hill. A fierce wind swept over him.

The hair he was growing for the Desolate Fortress Master's viewing pleasure fluttered with his black robes.

The view opened wide. Twilight was settling beneath a gorge that wound endlessly into the distance.

The crimson rays of dusk felt especially cold.

'Here.'

The boy gazed steadily ahead. Encampments like the one he had seen on West Peak Road occupied every peak.

They were heavily guarded.

They had even raised banners like soldiers of the imperial military. How could a mere vassal prince provide support bordering on treason and remain unscathed?

It would hardly be strange for the imperial house to declare him a traitor.

He had been told that a Black rank could scarcely remain free of politics. Since he needed to take care in his conduct, it was a question worth considering.

'Not now.'

Jung Yeonshin stepped forward without hesitation. He climbed a nearby peak.

He arrived at the lowest encampment, at the entrance to Seven Multitudes Gorge.

The wind striking the gorge buffeted five barracks. An enormous stone wall rose on one side.

He was discovered immediately. He had made no effort to conceal himself.

"An intruder. What's some greenhorn doing here?"

"You idiot! Can't you see that? That's the character for 'desolate'!"

"Isn't that a Desolate Fortress captain...?"

"The captain of the Radiant Demon Squad! It's the Lightning Genius!"

WHOOOOSH!

Some fifteen Martial Alliance warriors bearing spears and blades appeared in an instant.

Each landed on the stone ground with swift Mobility Arts.

Their synchronized movements raised a powerful headwind. The hems of Jung Yeonshin's black robe billowed as he stood still.

"The reinforcements have arrived early. The Sword Exalted is still enjoying himself."

"Reinforcements. An apt description. A Black rank of the Desolate Fortress is certainly worthy of being called a one-man army. That means he alone possesses the same fighting strength as all of us."

The leather-armored martial soldiers spoke with oddly relaxed expressions.

Though soldiers in the Martial Alliance's forces, at their core they were martial artists versed in martial formulas.

Their conversation possessed at least a modicum of refinement.

"Go into hiding, young Black rank. For now, your martial prowess frightens us, so we are willing to let you leave."

"The Sword Exalted is a truly fearsome supreme master. A novice captain like you would find it difficult to sustain a prolonged exchange with him."

"High though the walls of the Desolate Fortress may be, they cannot match our Martial Alliance's spirit. These encampments spanning the sheer cliffs of Seven Multitudes Gorge are—"

It happened in an instant.

Black robes closed the distance of three jang in a single moment. Jung Yeonshin seized one soldier by the face.

It was the man who had been spouting whatever came to mind to buy time. He had not even perceived the speed of the Wind Body movement technique.

"...!"

Shock spread through their ranks.

Immense power surged from the palm wrapped around the soldier's face. A section of the peak shook violently.

A humming sound accompanied it. The gorge's gale was resonating with the palm technique's wave of force.

Stream after stream of spiraling martial force ruthlessly shredded the advice to hide.

HUMMMMM!

They had said the Sword Exalted was enjoying himself. That meant he was putting pressure on Yeonshin's companions.

Even a single breath was too much time to waste.

THUD!

He kicked off the ground, still gripping the man's face. Wind brushed his cheek as he drove the soldier's head into the side of the stone wall.

A heavy tremor reverberated all the way to his feet. Overwhelming power blossomed in the boy's right hand. At last, fear crossed the soldier's face.

"Please, reconsi—!"

He did not listen. He drove Radiant River's formula to its limit. The Blood Art and Dharma power infused into the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art surged to their peak in an instant.

Jung Yeonshin unleashed the formula through the center of his palm.

Blue veins writhed across the back of his hand. Irresistible power erupted like a thunderbolt.

BOOOOOOM!

With the deafening blast, an entire section of the gorge shook. Cracks raced across the cliff that had stood so firm.

The tremendous explosion became an echo that spread in every direction.

It was the captain of the Radiant Demon Squad calling for the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon.