The woman who controlled the Martial Alliance's greatest source of funding had met the captain of Desolate Fortress's Radiant Demon Squad.

Their meeting instantly drew the eyes of even those who had been hastily clearing the way.

“Lady Ye? Didn't she originally have red hair?”

“You're behind on the news. They say she attained Great Completion in her mental cultivation method.”

“An advancement in controlled breathing? I don't follow.”

“Unmarried children of the Ye family never make their names known. Apparently, it's because their hair turns reddish-black, much like practitioners of Blood Arts. They say it turns black again once their cultivation is sufficiently refined, and that happened during the founding ceremony.”

“During the ceremony...! Were there many witnesses?”

“It happened before a large crowd. The heads of the noble clans and the Alliance Leader were there. Having proved her martial prowess on top of her pedigree and wealth, isn't that why she was appointed chief strategist for internal affairs?”

“Can we really dismiss it as a mere resemblance? It's far too similar...”

The man in yellow lowered his voice. The swordsman speaking with him smiled faintly.

“They say enlightenment comes upon a master without warning. You cannot conceal the nature revealed when you break through a barrier. The White Qilin, Namgoong Hwashin, was in danger during his match when she suddenly achieved a great awakening in the spectators' seats. The sight of that pure, clear qi washing her red hair pitch-black... Personally, it impressed me as deeply as the Eon Clan's fist arts. If anything, it dispelled even the slightest suspicion.”

“The White Qilin! Right, what happened to him? I heard he fought an established master from the Vast Source Sect!”

“Not merely an established warrior. The sect leader himself. A seasoned master in his forties...”

Jung Yeonshin had heard everything, even before the woman named Ye Harin approached him. The radiant wheel was the culmination of all the internal cultivation he had pursued.

If it moved of its own accord, even for an instant, he could never dismiss it lightly.

That was why he had remained still.

When she came within two paces, she briefly reminded him of the Seventh Apostle. It was her cheerful manner of speaking, strangely removed from the mortal world.

Had their voices been similar, his suspicions might have deepened.

But Ye Harin's masseter muscles on either side of her slender jaw were slightly broader. The space between her eyebrows and the bridge of her nose were wider by the barest fraction, too.

Those were regions containing nerves and the pressure points of the upper dantian. No face-altering disguise art could tamper with them.

Even so, he had to be certain.

He did not move even when she reached toward him. It was the same approach he had used to identify the power of evil and unorthodox practitioners at once.

He intended to check her own core energy through contact. Yet after that single pulse, the radiant wheel gave no further response.

Not even when her hand fully touched his. Unless some rare treasure capable of completely concealing one's nature existed in this world, she was most likely a practitioner of orthodox martial arts.

'Was it the Dharma power that reacted first?'

That could happen if she cultivated pure internal power. Yoo Hyun of Mount Hua had been like that, because he practiced the Violet Dawn Sacred Art, renowned among Taoists. Wiji Myohwa, who practiced Zhongnan's similarly Taoist martial arts, would likely be the same.

As the boy calmly gathered his thoughts, she spoke.

“You're less shy than I expected. You look rather tenderhearted beneath that unruffled expression.”

RUSTLE

Ye Harin stepped back with the corners of her mouth raised. Her index and middle fingers were the last to leave the back of his hand.

The fingers used for a sword-finger gesture. She truly was a martial artist who took her training seriously.

“Since I feel I've come off worse in this exchange, let me point out that it was my childhood name. I received another name at my coming-of-age ceremony. I can only share that on an important occasion.”

“Repeat the Sword Star's message properly,” the boy said.

Ye Harin's smile deepened.

“That really was all of it. Just the suggestion that it could wait until later. Whether you follow it is your decision. Who here has any right to dictate the actions of a Desolate Fortress Black?”

“Very well,” Jung Yeonshin answered briefly.

The sensation pressing into his upper dantian's energy detection tickled. It was an intense goodwill, entering through the Baihui point that had opened still wider of late.

It came from Ye Harin, smiling before him. It felt as though candy were melting in his mind. She was a deeply peculiar person.

Inwardly shaking his head, the boy slowly stepped away.

Just then, Ye Harin folded her hands behind her back, gathering her flowing white sleeves.

“The White Qilin entered the founding tournament in your place. He should be preparing for his next match.”

“... Thank you.”

“We'll be seeing each other often. Ensuring you're treated with due respect has become my responsibility. An envoy from a great faction outside the Alliance requires very careful attention.”

She smiled, adding that he should not turn her away if she dropped by unannounced.

Jung Yeonshin paused briefly, then resumed walking.

The Supreme Flame Dragon, who had been surveying the Alliance warriors, immediately followed. He dipped his head slightly beside him.

“She seems imperious, but she doesn't cross the line. When she touched you earlier, she deliberately relaxed her forearm muscles and drained every trace of power gathered in her qi and blood. She seems to practice orthodox arts, but her control over internal energy was remarkable.”

“...”

“So that was the famous ‘Lady Ye.’ They say there are precious few young fellows here who aren't in love with her. I can see why even those orthodox little bastards, raised on nothing but supposedly refined things, lose their heads.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon prattled on, seemingly trying to lighten the mood. His eyes narrowed roguishly as he stole a glance at his captain's expression.

Shaolin's Great Restoration Pill. He knew what the founding tournament's prize meant to Jung Yeonshin.

The boy had given the Lesser Restoration Pill awarded for the Sichuan mission to his grandfather, Ma Yeonjeok.

The Command Bureau had bestowed the spirit pill when tallying his merits. They had said the captain could use it as he pleased. It had been obtained from Shaolin and kept until someone worthy of the reward appeared.

He had left it beside his sleeping grandfather's head.

After nearly perishing together with the Blood Flame Cult Leader, Ma Yeonjeok had been reduced to a mummylike state and frequently lost consciousness.

'The Lesser Restoration Pill isn't enough.'

The Great Restoration Pill, whose renown in the martial world was second only to the fruit of the world tree, would be different.

He did not hope to restore his grandfather's martial arts in one stroke. He wanted to see him move about freely.

The sight of him standing against the Blood Flame Cult Leader amid raging blue flames remained vivid in his eyes. It had been etched into him as the love of blood kin, something he had never received before.

This was not something he would abandon over the Alliance leadership's scheming. His grip tightened on his sword hilt.

He had not released it even after Ye Harin touched his hand. Blue veins writhed across its back as the boy spoke.

“Focus on the founding tournament first.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon chuckled softly, as though pleased.

“I like seeing your talent poured entirely into one thing, Captain. There's a thrill in wondering what will happen. But didn't they say the tournament has already begun?”

“What does that matter?”

It was not Jung Yeonshin who spoke, but Heon Wonchang. His eyes flashed as he walked with the other two toward the Court of Graceful Fragrance.

A colorless radiance passed through his pupils—the gleam of internal power. He had been fuming ever since hearing that the founding ceremony had begun.

“I'll teach these bastards the meaning of shame. All you need do is wield your sword, Captain.”

“How convenient,” the Supreme Flame Dragon muttered.

The Alliance warriors standing blankly behind them gradually receded into the distance, as did the spectators who had come from outside.

They had witnessed the headquarters' chief strategist for internal affairs conversing with Desolate Fortress's Radiant Demon Squad captain.

The sight of people so far above them mingling was enough to cow ordinary martial artists.

Only the young lady of the Ye family wore even the faintest smile.

She alone openly stared after the young captain.

'Whatever that old Sword Star babbles about, my Grand Preceptor's wishes come first. I've delivered the message. That's enough.'

Leaving her smooth smile behind, the Radiant Demon Squad party soon entered the Court of Graceful Fragrance.

The residence was not wrapped in its usual tranquil silence. A faint smell of blood hung in the air.

As the servants started in surprise at the boy and young men who had abruptly arrived, Jung Yeonshin spotted Namgoong Hwashin in the courtyard.

He was bent over a small pond, wetting his hands.

The blue-robed expert's bearing was disheveled. With one foot propped on a rock, he wiped clotted blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He seemed to have tried to compose himself after sensing their arrival. Realizing he was too late, he gave an embarrassed smile.

“I'm glad you're safe,” Namgoong Hwashin said.

The boy gazed at him.

“... I heard you took to the platform in my place.”

“I've been fortunate in my matchups, so I haven't lost. I was also pleased not to face any rising generation disciples. Every opponent, including the most recent, was an established warrior who offered me a valuable lesson. In any event, I hear most of the younger warriors have already been eliminated. It's mainly middle-aged and older masters who remain.”

His tone was soft and measured. Was this the expression his elder brother, the Blue Qilin, had once shown him?

His smile was as faint as the ripples stirring the pond beside him. Yet he looked exhausted.

“...”

The autumn wind brushed distinctly against the boy's face. Jung Yeonshin felt its translucent touch.

An invisible wisp of breeze lingered briefly in the silence. Ripples spread across the pond in overlapping layers.

The boy thanked him.

* * *

The next day.

News of the Desolate Fortress party's return drew little attention.

The Alliance warriors who had seen them near the main gate knew shame. They could only keep quiet.

Nor did the Martial Alliance leadership go out of its way to publicize the defeat of the rival Martial Alliance.

These were days of celebration, meant to raise the Alliance's morale and win the people's hearts. The Martial Alliance's founding tournament was truly a festival of martial prowess unfolding in Hanzhong, Shaanxi.

“Radiant Zen Sword! Foremost Hero of Ruzhou! Come forth and broaden the horizons of your fellow martial artists!”

The voice, infused with internal power, rang out resoundingly. Zhuge Cheon, the middle-aged acting chief strategist in dark green martial robes, had personally stepped forward.

He stood atop the enormous circular dueling platform that symbolized the Alliance's legitimacy within orthodox Murim. Deafening cheers filled the surroundings.

“Waaaaaah!”

A crowd that looked to number nearly a thousand surrounded the platform. Their fervor made it feel as though summer had returned.

The wooden watchtowers rising on every side were packed with people. It was a wonder they held.

A middle-aged man in yellow robes climbed onto the platform. He was Seop Uncheol, the Radiant Zen Sword, a local warrior born and raised in Hanzhong.

His thick, swordlike brows and exceptionally keen eyes attested to his distinction. He was also well known as the husband of the Zhuge clan head's younger sister.

So Jun, the Foremost Hero of Ruzhou, approached from the opposite side with an equally outstanding presence.

The moment he took a step on the platform, those who had failed to find seats nearby and climbed the spectators' towers swayed once.

The wave of qi carried in his footwork had caused it.

Established masters possessed a presence unlike that of the rising generation.

They were the true contenders for supremacy in the founding tournament.

“With so many dragons and tigers here, was there really any need to force the schedule forward?”

“We had to account for every possibility.”

“And what of public opinion?”

“Hanzhong already belongs to our Alliance. Speak of the greater cause, and the shame will fade.”

“The strategist is right. Besides... it was never as though we lacked masters below elder rank who could face the Radiant Demon Squad captain. The commanders of the noble clans' combat units alone are middle-aged men enjoying their prime. Hasn't Mount Hua's Sword Saint descended from the mountain as well?”

“We would do well not to raise that subject. Pitting a boy master not yet twenty against them was Desolate Fortress's ploy from the outset. A defeat would have been an utter disgrace for us, and even a victory would not have been an unqualified one.”

This was the Martial Alliance leadership's viewing section. Beneath a splendid awning, quiet conversation passed through the broad shade.

A sense of victory, taken for granted over entire lifetimes, flowed with dignified ease.

These were Murim's regional nobles, living in their own world, in their own way.

Off to one side, a middle-aged swordsman in Mount Hua robes furrowed his brow. His eyes were closed and his arms folded, but his face betrayed his discomfort.

The Young Sword Empress, attending as the Diancang Sect's successor-disciple and representative, was no different. Her blank expression could not quite conceal her unease.

Yet the Martial Alliance's founding tournament was a torrent heralding the course of the age. There was little the sects cultivating the Way in the mountains could do.

“The Radiant Zen Sword and the Foremost Hero of Ruzhou. Which one did you bet on?”

“I've already put half my remaining fortune on Mount Hua's Sword Saint and the other half on the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist... Still, merely watching these two fight should be an eye-opening experience. I suspect the Radiant Zen Sword's swordsmanship will prove a little sharper. He was once called Hanzhong's greatest martial prodigy.”

“People around Ruzhou Prefecture might disagree.”

As the crowd conversed excitedly, Seop Uncheol and So Jun faced one another.

The excitement surged in an instant. Cheers rose without end.

This unparalleled festival of the Central Plains, now in its fourth day, was about to resume once more.

Then—

CRASH!

A flag plunged diagonally into the center of the platform. A fierce wave of force bored into the ground.

Dust swept outward in concentric circles, the pulses of martial force carrying explosive core energy.

A white robe tied to a steel flagpole snapped violently in the air, displaying the character for “Desolate” emblazoned across its back for all to see.

“The captain of Desolate Fortress's Radiant Demon Squad! Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin, who took pity on the common people of Hanzhong!”

A young man's voice rang out, charged with core energy seemingly drawn to its utmost.

It bore the same nature as the colorless power shimmering from the flag planted in the platform. The voice continued, echoing in every direction as though its owner had mastered the Lion's Roar.

“Has returned after driving back the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon and the Martial Alliance's martial army!”

It was a tremendous roar. For an instant, the very air seemed to shake.

An unexpected incident had erupted, in a manner almost unimaginable within the orthodox martial world.

For all its headlong audacity, the sight stirred the grand ambitions of those watching. Murmurs spread in every direction like a tidal wave.

In the time it took hundreds of martial heroes to blink, a black-robed boy stood beneath Desolate Fortress's white flag. His Mobility Arts were astonishing.

The backwash of his fearsome lightness skill swept over them a moment later.

As his pitch-black robe and black hair streamed together, the young captain slowly parted his lips.

“I was to participate as an envoy, but my own shortcomings have delayed me. Was your Alliance not formed to oppose Desolate Fortress in the first place? What meaning could this hold without me? Would you not agree?”

He conducted himself wholly as a Desolate Fortress Black. His voice was arrogant indeed.

So were his bearing and disposition. The young supreme master stood proudly between the Radiant Zen Sword and the Foremost Hero of Ruzhou.

His smooth chin slightly raised, he looked down upon the crowd below the platform.

“The Radiant Demon Squad captain?”

“Those Mobility Arts...!”

The boy paid the two established masters no heed.

With one hand behind his back, he wrapped the other around the robe-flag of the great hero of Desolate Fortress. Then he pulled the flagpole from the ground and spoke.

“Desolate Fortress does not shy away from a challenge.”

With those words, he drove it straight back down.

THUD!

A deep, heavy tremor resounded. A circular wave of internal power spread from his feet, accompanied by a hazy gust.

The flagpole stood perfectly perpendicular to the platform. Shaken by the impact, the flag fluttered, proudly displaying the character for “Desolate.”

“I fully acknowledge responsibility for my lateness. Thus, from this moment onward, I shall personally take part in every match.”

The Radiant Demon Squad captain curled his lips.

“You need not fear the shame of fighting me in relays.”

“...”

For several breaths, time froze as though the world itself had stopped.