Jung Yeonshin’s companions, including Heon Wonchang, and the Martial Alliance warriors watched the pair, each with a hand on a weapon. In the distance, the sun hid itself between the walls of the gorge. Before they knew it, faint shafts of twilight reached them, brushing their faces like a curtain drawn across the closing day.

Jung Yeonshin received the first cup. Baek Seogun smiled as she poured with one hand.

“You may consider it an honor. Not even the Alliance leader has had me pour him a drink.”

The boy felt fulfilled by the baptism of swordsmanship stimulating his mind. Just before taking a sip, he spoke without fuss.

“I’ll accept it with thanks.”

Baek Seogun paused. Only for a moment. Then the corners of her mouth rose again.

“You truly do have Pan An’s blood.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just talking to myself.”

After draining the cup, Jung Yeonshin turned his head without thinking. The Supreme Flame Dragon came into view, wearing a peculiar expression. Did he realize how much that had sounded like his own manner of speaking? When their eyes met, he gave a little smile. An irritating smile.

‘I’m sending that bastard away first.’

It was tactically sound, too. There might be an ambush on the way back, so it made sense to send the Supreme Flame Dragon, the second strongest in their party, ahead as a scout. Heon Wonchang would be next, followed by the Young Sword Empress, Gongsun Min, and Murong Mingjun. He would have to drink at least five cups.

‘It’s a promise from a master of the evil and unorthodox paths... but it doesn’t feel like an empty one.’

He turned back and met Baek Seogun’s gaze. She had been watching him steadily. He sensed gray in her eyes—a weariness that reached him through the spiritual nature of his upper dantian.

Someone with deep ties to the Jeong Clan Estate could hardly have begun life among the upper echelons of the martial world. Henan Province was as vast as a distant kingdom. For a woman to earn the name Sword Exalted there, her life must have taken many difficult turns. He considered it with calm reason and felt it through the upper dantian in his head.

“You’ve been through a great deal.”

The words slipped out. It was an absurd thing to say. The person before him was the Sword Exalted of the evil and unorthodox paths. What right did he have to commend her? His upper dantian, unusually sensitive of late, had resonated with her life and goodwill.

As he lowered his cup and furrowed his brow, Baek Seogun’s expression grew peculiar.

“My turn to receive a drink.”

Without arguing the point, she took the boy’s cup. She was astonishingly fast. For an instant, her fingers blurred and warped, moving as though executing a grappling technique. Jung Yeonshin, in contrast, picked up the bottle gourd and tilted it slowly, reviewing her hand technique.

She had clearly united essence, qi, and spirit. Martial learning permeated even her smallest gestures. She might be capable of exchanging blows with the Desolate Divine Spear, Ak Surim.

‘That was like performing illusion swordsmanship with her hand.’

A technique that bewitched an opponent’s eyes. Its principles were unlike anything Jung Yeonshin had experienced. The tricks most lesser martial artists employed were mere feints, nowhere near the realm of illusion swordsmanship. The boy’s eyes shone.

‘Her qi arts merged with her swordsmanship. Then that swordsmanship became part of her body.’

Just then, Baek Seogun’s eyes softened. How had she interpreted his gaze? Bringing the cup to her lips, she spoke slowly.

“Your looks are accompaniment enough for wine. Now I understand how those young ladies felt looking at Pan An.”

“Did you sit me down to talk nonsense?”

“I had something useful to tell you. Such prowess at your age—if you’ve trained that relentlessly, you must have a clear goal. Surely it’s the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord’s head?”

“...”

“Spend long enough as a pillar of one of the great factions of the Thirteen Skies, and the rumors that reach you become increasingly privileged. I know a great deal about your enemy.”

Jung Yeonshin was silent for a moment. The Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord. His feelings remained what they had been when he created the Movement Art: he might hate the Jeong Clan Estate, but it was still home. Naturally, the person who had annihilated his family was his mortal enemy. That person had also reportedly helped subdue the Desolate Fortress’s Elder Council Leader.

Yet it was a name he had kept buried in his heart. His martial strength fell short of a peerless master’s, and the lifespan heaven had allotted him left little room for revenge. He had thought he would seek that enemy out if the day ever came when he wore purple robes.

But even Black was a rank people looked up to, a station that took him racing across the world. He could encounter a lord of the Thirteen Skies at any time. Quite apart from the enmity between them, information about the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord’s background was valuable.

“Tell me.”

The boy almost muttered it, his voice deep. Satisfaction touched Baek Seogun’s lips.

“He is of mixed blood: the Bai people of Yunnan and the noble race. The fruit of the Dali Kingdom’s royal family taking in one of the noble race. He was its crown prince.”

“The Dali Kingdom...”

Its royal house had been destroyed by the Desolate fortress master. She was the imperial family’s divine sword. On several occasions, she had erased the royal houses of small kingdoms and great factions that showed signs of rebellion.

That was why her name invariably came up whenever enthusiasts debated who was the greatest under heaven. She had displayed divine might that no army could withstand—truly absolute martial power, by all accounts. This meant the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord was a surviving scion of Dali’s royal house.

“He has the eyes of the noble race, too. And he must have mastered the Tyrant Sword Tribe’s eye technique, a high-level ultimate technique. There is no way he failed to recognize the gifts of your body and comprehension.”

“...”

“With the Ma clan of the Desolate Fortress on your mother’s side, he must have considered the possibility that you would join the Fortress. Why deliberately spare you when it was obvious his enemy would grow stronger? Because a child’s character moved him? Absurd. I think you would do well to consider it.”

“Do you have a reason in mind?”

“Who knows? Even I know no more than that. One thing is certain: your joining the Desolate Fortress cannot be entirely good for its master. If I were to liken the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord to an animal, I would call him a cunning bear.”

Then she held Jung Yeonshin’s gaze.

“Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

“No.”

“Because I hope you’ll broaden your horizons a little.”

“The Thirteen Skies have already tried to win me over.”

“I mean that good and evil are not clear-cut in the martial world. If you someday set out to avenge your family, the information I’ve given you will not be useless. This Sword Exalted of the evil and unorthodox paths has given a Desolate Fortress captain useful intelligence. Do not reject unorthodox martial artists out of hand. When they do something good, I hope you’ll look kindly on them.”

“Are you giving me advice?”

“There is no other way to survive long in the martial world. Put debts and grudges before all else. Do that, and people will gather around you. One day, they will save your life. Even I, the Martial Alliance’s divine sword, count the Low Gate’s master as a dear friend.”

“... I’ll keep that in mind.”

The Sky-Swimming Sword Demon’s strangely gentle manner felt unfamiliar. Was she trying to play nursemaid? Just what had she been at the Jeong Clan Estate? The boy tilted his head slightly.

Baek Seogun found Jeong Banak’s son endearing that way. Outstanding looks, an apparently upright disposition, and an unbelievable sword stroke—all at that age. Even his somewhat arrogant manner struck her as charming. Had she never encountered the Eight Illusions Divine Art, she would have looked after him. She almost thought that might have been enjoyable in its own way.

“You grew up upright. I’m glad your family fulfilled its duty before it vanished. Even had I been there, I could never have urged you onto the evil and unorthodox paths.”

“... You’ve received your cup. Let one of them go.”

“Ah.”

She gave a small exclamation, noting Jung Yeonshin’s brief silence.

“That’s right. I did make a promise. Yes, one of them may leave.”

“Supreme Flame Dragon.”

Jeong Banak’s son called softly.

At one edge of the ring surrounding the drinking table, a young man squatted, feigning indifference. His burned-away sleeves left both arms bare. A handsome young noble with deep shadows beneath his eyes—the young clan head of the annihilated Hwangbo clan.

“I’m not particularly inclined to go. Why not send the dead weight first? The Murong fellow, or that Gongsun whelp.”

“You’re dead weight, too.”

“Honestly, that’s not true. I can still last ten exchanges against you, Captain, can’t I? As the third strongest person here, I believe I’m qualified to watch our young captain’s back.”

“Ten exchanges, my ass. I was going easy on you because we were sparring.”

“How unlike you to get so prideful. Haven’t we gone twenty moves before? My martial arts are improving constantly, too.”

“That was before I acquired my new swordsmanship. I didn’t use Radiant River, either.”

“That unfamiliar swordsmanship did look immensely interesting. At any rate, stop bringing up terrifying things like Radiant River and send that Murong fellow over there first.”

“Murong Mingjun?”

“There’s been something unusual in his eyes for a while. Looks as though he intends to report every detail of your martial arts to the Alliance. Wasn’t our real mission to dominate the Martial Alliance’s founding ceremony? We can’t leave someone like him here. Judging by the mood, you’re about to have a bout with the Sword Demon, however light.”

He spoke softly. The fellow in pink martial robes flinched. After a glance at him, Jeong Banak’s son stopped arguing with the Hwangbo young clan head.

“As captain, I’ll send him away.”

“An excellent choice.”

They worked well together. Jeong Banak had never had a friend like that. Perhaps the closest he had come was when he taught Baek Seogun the Ten Precepts of Go. She signaled her subordinates with her eyes.

The Martial Alliance’s martial soldiers rose at once and led the Murong young clan head away. Held on either side as he descended the gorge, he could say nothing. He merely closed his eyes slightly, as though ashamed.

Once he was gone, the Hwangbo young clan head spoke.

“Even if he gets ambushed and killed, that’s entirely the Sword Star’s burden. We have no reason to worry that far. It’s not as though we belong to the Alliance.”

“I swore on my epithet. Do not sully my honor.”

Baek Seogun’s voice seethed with killing intent. She had reached the realm of manifesting intent through internal energy. As the Hwangbo young clan head stiffened, she turned back. By the time she met Jeong Banak’s son’s eyes, she was smiling again. The boy carried the fragrance of a tranquil estate from long ago.

They drank four more cups. The youngsters from the Gongsun clan and Diancang Sect went down first. Starting with those two, none was willing to leave easily. Alongside the Desolate Fortress warriors, they wanted to uphold their loyalty to the captain of the Radiant Demon Squad. That lasted until Jeong Banak’s son rebuked them as burdens.

“Never have I felt as powerless as I did today. I shall give serious thought to improving my martial arts.”

The lad in the hero’s headband also departed with reluctant steps. Only the Hwangbo young clan head remained stubborn.

“Ah, do your worst. There’s precious little fun in life anyway.”

“...”

The Martial Alliance subordinates stared incredulously at him as he lay spread-eagled on the ground.

Jeong Banak’s son seemed very slightly drunk. Had his body been poor at holding liquor before he cultivated martial arts? Shaking his head, he murmured that they would die around the same time anyway.

‘What?’

The words raised a question in Baek Seogun’s mind. She gently loosened her grip on the wine bottle.

“If I accept any more, you’ll remember me as a foolish old woman. Drinking together only brings out the wine’s flavor when both hearts are in accord.”

“Then?”

The young captain of the Radiant Demon Squad raised an eyebrow.

“Shall we settle this as martial artists? If you gain the advantage for even one move, I shall withdraw to Henan. Consider it my own courtesy to a direct descendant of the Jeong Clan Estate.”

“I accept. You need to save face with the Martial Alliance leader, too.”

Jeong Banak’s son answered calmly. She shook her head.

“Do not take this lightly. You are a Black of the Desolate Fortress—a rank against which I can scarcely afford to hold back. Once our swords cross, the outcome will be hard to predict. Losing a limb would be getting off lightly. You truly could die.”

“I know.”

“Do you? I’ve seen many prodigies called promising. Not one had ever seriously considered their own death. Every last one believed they would someday become the greatest under heaven.”

Baek Seogun spoke quietly, arms folded, as she gazed at the Jeong Clan Estate’s young master. Her words were no provocation.

The Sky-Swimming Sword Demon was a supreme master of the evil and unorthodox paths. She had lived acknowledging kindness in moderation and engraving grudges into her bones. Even for Jeong Banak’s son, she could hardly violate her duty as an elder of the Martial Alliance. She hoped the boy would have no regrets at the end of a clash between supreme masters.

“... As captain...”

The boy slowly parted his lips.

“I have never taken life and death lightly.”

“Such gravity in your voice. Very well. I’ve rambled on too much.”

Baek Seogun answered gently, studying the young master. When she returned, she would have to investigate Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin properly.

“...”

Silence passed between them. Seated opposite each other with the drinking table between them, they gazed at one another without a word. The sudden stillness ran deep.

A gust swept past the two hundred Martial Alliance warriors and the Supreme Flame Dragon, curling around the wine cup. The wind sounded as it caught and wandered along the rim where Jung Yeonshin’s and Baek Seogun’s lips had touched.

SHING!

At that instant, sword resonance rang from Baek Seogun’s waist. A sharp streak of light slipped free of its sheath on its own. In the same split second, Jung Yeonshin gripped his sword hilt backward with his left hand and drew it upward—a reverse-grip draw. The Sword Exalted’s flying sword, a fraction faster, drove on without hesitation and struck the divine sword Northern Radiance.

CLANG!

The shock wave hurled the young Radiant Demon Squad captain backward. He immediately somersaulted through the air and righted himself with extraordinary elegance. It was a peculiar movement technique, as though he had cultivated the noble race’s powers in his own fashion. With a little more refinement, it might rival the Kunlun Sect’s Eight Great Cloud Dragon Forms.

‘Whoever raised him...’

Feeling pleased, Baek Seogun gestured again. The formula of the Eight Illusions Divine Art once more produced the power to control a sword with qi. Her sword cried out as internal energy flowed neatly into it across the empty air.

Hand-Guided Sword. With her left hand behind her back, she swept her right hand down through the air.

CLANG! CLANG-CLANG!

The flying sword’s long trajectories tangled with the short sword paths of Jung Yeonshin’s swings. Streaks of pure white crossed pure white, repeatedly obscuring the sunset. Core energy and Burst Discharge intersected. Impacts exploded with thunderous reports, battering the space around them. As martial forces collided, scattered waves of sword force scored hairline cracks in the ground.

She dominated the distance between them. A flying sword’s range far exceeded a spear’s, approaching that of an arrow. Ordinary methods could not bring anyone within reach of her.

Baek Seogun stood proudly, watching. The boy’s jet-black sleeves fluttered as he struck with a forceful sword. The handsome captain of the Radiant Demon Squad could not reach her. Naturally.

“Hooo...”

Until the boy took a long breath in. Baek Seogun’s eyes widened. She saw an inhalation that remained steady despite his ceaseless motion. It seemed to operate independently of his vigorous Mobility Arts. Such a thing was scarcely possible—unless he was breathing through a divine technique.

‘Could it be?’

And it did not end with his breathing. Black robes streamed out behind the boy. A wave of qi began to bloom in resonance with the autumn wind. His sword, already raised above his head, gave off a strange reverberation, like a gale sweeping through a cave.

A familiar quality spread from his body, now one with his sword. A sudden pulse brushed against her like the wind. An ethereal wave of qi emanated from the young Radiant Demon Squad captain’s opening stance. It was no different from what Baek Seogun had received from the noble race: the spiritual nature that elevated martial arts into the realm of supreme arts.