Jung Yeonshin's thoughts raced like lightning. Despite his thick, grown-out hair, the crown of his head felt cool. His wide-open Baihui point allowed countless thoughts to pass through.

An intuition struck him. If he prolonged this fight, defeat was certain. The energy detection of his upper dantian told him so.

The mood of the crowd surrounding the great tournament platform suggested much the same. He had glanced at them on his way up. The senior figures of the noble clans, those acclaimed elders of Murim, wore astonishingly composed expressions—as though twenty-three matches had been enough to complete their assessment of Lightning Genius, captain of the Radiant Demon Squad.

'I know that better than you do.'

His opponent ranked among the finest swordsmen even in Mount Hua, said to be home to sword immortals. He had settled on two exchanges not because he held the advantage, but because he was at a disadvantage.

There were as many ways to fight as there were martial arts scattered across the world. Variety was indeed the word for it. Some contests ended in a single exchange, while struggles lasting hundreds were hardly rare. He had heard of fighters with both the external conditioning and energy reserves to battle through an entire night.

'The Sword Saint must have practiced an incredible number of sword moves. And his years must have given him a deep mastery of every one.'

He was said to be Ma Jin's equal before his uncle lost his arm. He was not someone a newly appointed Black rank could fight at length. The years he had spent mastering Mount Hua's peerless swordsmanship made all the difference.

The higher one's martial prowess rose, the wider one's world became. The round table where Desolate Fortress's captains sat, in the Hall of the Sword That Seeks Peace, had made that real to Yeonshin. The domain of the Black ranks was vaster than anything he had ever experienced. Mount Hua's Sword Saint, the Perfected One Cheon Joo, was proof enough.

“Hmm.”

The middle-aged swordsman's widening eyes rapidly drew closer. The young captain tightened his grip on his raised sword hilt as a single leaping step of Wind Body closed the distance.

WHOOOOSH!

A fierce wind scoured his face. His brief time in the air felt unusually long.

Before his feet even touched down, Yeonshin slashed downward in midair. A long flare of light followed the blade's descent. It was the nameless first form, a swift-attacking sword move honed by cutting down well over a hundred Martial Alliance warriors.

Wherever he struck, it bolstered his sword force. Wherever the target, he could strike first. A pressure resembling the king-style sword arts pushed forward with his descending blow.

CLAAANG!

Sparks flew violently. A savage vibration hammered his hand. For an instant, he nearly lost his grip on the hilt.

Though his swift sword had unleashed its full, unfettered speed, Cheon Joo raised his blade horizontally and blocked. The moment his Plum Blossom Sword offensive fell a step behind, he had switched straight to a defensive move. Between the locked swords, a colorless blossom given tangible form shattered. His handling of his swordsmanship was extraordinarily seasoned.

It had become a contest of sword force. Planting his feet, Yeonshin tightened his sword hand. Streams of energy from the radiant wheel within his heart pushed against the ground through the Yongquan points in his soles. The platform began to crumble beneath his feet.

Then Cheon Joo subtly turned his foot. It was a minute sideways step. Earth scraped finely beneath his white silk shoe, and pale dust rose like steam. A faint ripple of martial power spread toward Yeonshin.

Plum Blossom Steps Treading into Radiance.

The locked blades twisted. That tiny foot movement redirected Yeonshin's sword force. Cheon Joo spun, his movement as splendid as drifting petals.

The Taoist's sword and the boy's each traced a circle. Sunlight rippled over the blades as they skimmed past one another's collars. It was an exchange between consummate swordsmen, so natural they might have rehearsed it.

At the same moment, a wave of qi sprouted at Cheon Joo's feet. It rose straight as the stem of a plum tree. The qi from his footwork wound around his trouser hems and climbed, seemingly lending strength to his lower body.

It happened in an instant. Before his opponent could launch his next move, Cheon Joo's sword blurred. Its blade was moving at a tremendous speed. His sword strike swept in horizontally, carrying the martial power that had risen from his feet.

SWISH!

The form Plum Blossoms and Dancing Butterflies raised a bitter wind. Yeonshin dropped backward as though lying down.

Iron Plank Bridge. The flat of the sword filled his vision, blotting out the sun as it swept over the tip of his nose. A few black strands that had failed to fall clear were instantly severed and scattered. The formless core energy surrounding the blade was sharp as a divine sword.

'His flank is open.'

Cheon Joo's side was close. The boy's eyes flashed as he bent backward. He infused radiant wheel qi into the Yishe point near his spine. His spinal muscles contracted with fierce martial power, and he snapped upright with the agility of a supreme master.

Meanwhile, he circulated a formula through his left fist. As wind brushed his ears, the third move of Infinite Blossom Hand took shape. Fist Blossoms.

WHOOF!

Formless waves of core energy bloomed from his fist, rising in clusters like flowers opening one after another. Force struck force, creating further waves of qi as it advanced. A crushing close-range strike.

RUMBLE!

It met Cheon Joo's left hand. His open palm shifted and descended in a floral pattern. Shock waves lifted his sleeve; vibrations rang through bone. Mount Hua's Falling Blossoms Palm Strike. It struck down every cluster of force waves from Fist Blossoms.

His ability to wield internal energy through the unity of essence, qi, and spirit allowed his hand to move half a beat faster than the boy's. The afterimages of the fist were crushed wholesale.

Yeonshin's outstretched wrist ached. This was on an entirely different level from the Falling Blossoms Palm Strike he had seen Yoo Hyun perform when he wore white. Orthodox martial arts accumulated over a supreme master's years were this solid.

“I remember that fist move. It resembles our sect's martial lineage.”

Cheon Joo spoke as he put more strength into his palm technique.

BOOM!

The final impact thundered. After the repeated collisions against his fist, the boy slid backward. His black hair and robes streamed with the recoil.

Distance opened between the two supreme masters. A faint cloud of dust rising at their feet brushed against the silence.

Then the people filling the watchtowers and viewing stands reacted.

“... The waves of force reach all the way here and cut at my face. And I couldn't even see what happened.”

“Are they truly human?”

“They're supreme masters of the Nine Great Sects and Desolate Fortress. They've already shed their human limits...!”

The crowd could not hide its astonishment at this contest of higher realms. Even someone who spent a lifetime traveling the Central Plains would scarcely witness such a fight once.

Yet the young captain's gaze cooled.

That made four exchanges.

For the first time, the boy had failed to secure a swift victory. Mount Hua's Sword Saint was a fully realized martial artist.

Confronted directly, the wall of the Nine Great Sects stood as high as their chivalric spirit. Martial prowess and the Way were bound together, they said, to form the martial way. Their arts had a depth and texture different from those of the noble clans.

Yeonshin had felt it from the moment he stepped onto the platform. Seeing Cheon Joo's sword-bearing stance, he had detected dense, unbroken waves of martial power. His own overall strength was no match for one of the foremost swordsmen of the Nine Great Sects.

Not yet.

There was nothing strange about that. Such was the standing of the leader of the Plum Blossom Swordsmen, acknowledged generation after generation for hundreds of years. As Mount Hua's representative, he commanded the martial world's awe. In the present age, he was a worthy rival to Ma Jin, the Hell Slaughterer.

A transcendent swordsman who had attained Three Flowers Gather at the Crown.

Their ages alone differed greatly. Unlike the boy, he had also united essence, qi, and spirit, harmonizing his body, internal energy, and the spiritual nature of his upper dantian into one. It was said to be a realm in which core energy moved at the very moment of thought.

Most of Desolate Fortress's Black ranks had reached it. They were unlike Yeonshin, whose upper dantian was disproportionately powerful. The boy was simply unusual in having earned his black robes through the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art alone. Against someone of the great Mount Hua's Sword Saint's caliber, a difference in martial attainment was only natural.

The Alliance leadership clearly regarded the Nine Great Sects warily, but seemed to acknowledge their martial strength without reservation. Placing Cheon Joo late in the founding ceremony's lineup to stop the Radiant Demon Squad captain showed as much.

Even ordinary gamblers gathered in Hanzhong knew how fearsomely solid the strength of an orthodox martial lineage built over centuries could be.

Yeonshin, however, felt puzzled. He should have been driven back much harder. If Cheon Joo possessed the prowess his senses perceived, he was still more than Yeonshin could handle.

Yet Falling Blossoms Palm Strike had failed to break through Infinite Blossom Hand powered by radiant wheel qi. Despite no sign that Cheon Joo was holding back, they had briefly seemed equal.

'He had internal injuries before we even began.'

No other explanation came to mind. He had discovered something no one else had noticed. A question naturally followed: when, and against what opponent, had he suffered them?

Had Cheon Joo noticed his expression? He spoke.

“We are equals. Our circumstances are the same. All that remains is a contest of skill.”

“...”

Only the Radiant Demon Squad captain, who had personally exchanged blows with him as a fellow supreme master, could understand those words.

Within the domain of Black ranks, Yeonshin lacked years, while Cheon Joo was internally injured. Thus they were equal, Cheon Joo said. His firm grip on his hilt suggested he truly believed it.

Such was the upright spirit of the Nine Great Sects.

The people surrounding the platform watched the two supreme masters face off with bated breath. The knowledgeable and the ignorant, warriors who had attained mastery and common folk who knew not a single move—all were witnessing something they would scarcely see again in their lives.

Only the senior clan figures watched with a deeper gleam in their eyes. The Zhuge clan head, his gaze flashing as he studied the platform, spoke.

“The Radiant Demon Squad captain's martial power is greater than expected. I did not think he could meet Cheon Joo's internal energy on equal terms. Even without cultivating the violet dawn sacred art reserved for the sect leader's direct lineage, Cheon Joo is a master of extraordinary sword force.”

“No matter. Mount Hua's Sword Saint's swordsmanship lives up to its reputation. The captain cannot withstand him for long.”

The Murong clan head answered, his eyes also gleaming. Neither turned toward the other. Employing a secret eye technique alongside the Murong clan head, the Zhuge clan head continued.

“The captain's first sword move was so refined that even I was surprised. It bridged the interval between their swords with incredible speed. That form lies beyond my experience. But instead of continuing its flow, he used a palm technique for his second move...”

“Which means he has few sword moves of comparable quality. That boy's swordsmanship is exceedingly thin. It cannot match the depth of an illustrious school's forms. Supreme swordsmanship that answers every contingency and encompasses even close-quarter combat accumulates with time. If that child meets the contest head-on, he will lose within five exchanges. If he evades it, he will lose his honor.”

Certainty colored the Murong clan head's deep voice. The Zhuge clan head nodded.

“It is time for him to fall. The Eon Clan's Foremost Fist will not get his turn. Still, having displayed such prowess at his age before the whole world, Desolate Fortress must be said to have achieved its intended results. Our Alliance has already suffered a loss.”

“At least the Great Restoration Pill will not fall into the hands of the imperial watchdogs.”

“Cheonga, you may cease your task.”

At the Zhuge clan head's words, Zhuge Cheonga, seated behind him, stopped breathing. The fingers anxiously stroking her long black hair froze as well. The tips of her neatly combed hair trembled.

“I remain disappointed. To discover nothing with such attainment in your eye technique. Had the match not taken this turn, you would have been severely punished. Foolish girl.”

“... I am sorry.”

Her reply was quiet.

Lady Ye, seated to one side, did not spare them a glance. Her red eyes, concealed behind a white blindfold, held only the platform. She stroked her cheek with pale fingers and sent a sound transmission to the Ye family head beside her.

“How much would it cost to break that up?”

“I do not believe this is a matter of money.”

“My Grand Preceptor was creating a new sword move. This stuffy gathering is nothing beside that. What use is any of this when I'm so excited? Have you bought off that Eon wretch?”

“We are approaching him discreetly. However, his continued lack of response suggests we may need to exceed our budget. We should avoid that. If we draw on any more funds, the relationship between our Cult and the Ye family...”

“Enough. Just prepare some thick cloth. I'm going to be beside my Grand Preceptor now.”

While everyone else held their various conversations, Yeonshin and Cheon Joo continued their own. With swords lowered, they measured the distance, quietly circling each other in a wide ring.

“You said Ma Jin should be well. Now that our swords have met, I understand. There is anguish in you. You have hidden it deep in your grip. Regrettably, I cannot yield.”

“...”

“We could not allow every one of the Nine Great Sects to remain outside the Alliance. Deeds done in the name of orthodox Murim must not be undertaken recklessly. That is why our sect leader sent me down.”

To keep the noble clans in check.

Cheon Joo bore a greater cause of his own. If the formation of the Martial Alliance was inevitable, he intended to guide its strength in the right direction. That would only be possible if the Nine Great Sects won before the eyes of all.

“Out of respect for you, I shall not lower my guard.”

His clear voice rang out, belying his middle age. It spoke to the extraordinary purity of his internal energy.

Cheon Joo smoothly turned his longsword upright in a reversed position. His feet stopped. A shower of formless qi waves gathered like flower buds along the long blade. His sharply honed internal energy seemed to pour out without limit.

The prelude to his swordsmanship was beautiful, so sublime it felt like a spell.

“Blossoms Adrift in Hidden Fragrance!”

The shout, unmistakably tinged with admiration, came from the Alliance leadership. Someone seemed to have blurted out the move's name without thinking.

It was evidently well known. Yeonshin, too, remembered hearing of a single strike that threaded together every subtle principle of Plum Blossom Sword. Mount Hua and its neighbor, the Zhongnan Sect, were said to have each gained a peerless sword move after their frequent discussions of the sword.

The boy silently watched Cheon Joo assume his opening stance. The Sword Saint's circulation of internal energy was unbelievably fast. The chance to interrupt him passed in an instant. His move was essentially complete the moment his power rose.

“Come. This is a contest between members of the righteous orthodox path,” Cheon Joo said quietly.

The world was not easy. So the youngest black-robed expert felt.

Everyone had a clear position. Just causes were clashing here. Unlike Shaolin and Wudang, Mount Hua often intervened actively in worldly affairs, seeking no material gain and working only to help the people live in peace. They did so despite ranking among the strongest of the Nine Great Sects. They deserved respect. No one could fault them.

But surely the same was true of a boy trying to safeguard his maternal grandfather. The heart of a grandson who had never known familial affection was no less pure than theirs.

'I want to live happily.'

Facing the Sword Saint, Yeonshin sensed the world. The upper dantian in his head communed with nature. A strand of indifferent providence plunged into his crown, making him look anew upon the troubled martial world.

Those heavens had stolen his lifespan, then tossed him talent as though giving alms. When he tried to reclaim his life, they took his uncle's arm. They sought to take his grandfather's life as well. Such was this world.

Even a man of the Nine Great Sects who wielded his sword for chivalry stood in his way, because Murim's interests were entangled.

The turbulent boy hated his troubled life. At times, the world he fought against to survive felt overwhelming. That was why he had named his internal art Dharma-Surpassing: to live a little more easily, and a little longer.

HUMMM.

The feeling beginning to inhabit his hands now was no different. It was intent honed into a single line. His pure, singular resolve became a formula, resonating through the fine meridians of his body.

'Even if the inexorable laws of all creation tighten around my head, I will one day transcend them.'

He muttered inwardly toward the heavens, with the arrogance of someone who had never felt a limit to his creation of martial arts.

'Do not stand in my way.'

He whispered it within, remembering his grandfather wreathed in blue flames.

That whisper kindled radiance in his mind. A flower bud woven from light.

Just as the Sword Saint had discerned Yeonshin's inner state, the boy sensed life's harsh trials in the Saint's Plum Blossom Sword. Beyond them flickered the Blue Flame his grandfather had burned his very life to produce.

He smoothly raised Northern Radiance before his eyes in both hands. A long exhalation condensed white along the length of its blade. A faint haze of the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art's light seeped from his breath.

The boy's lips moved. May my steps through the martial world never cease.

It was the moment a young Grandmaster placed his wish upon a single sword.

HUMMM!

The flower of light blossomed fully in his mind. A trajectory of radiance appeared in his upper dantian.

Intent carried to its utmost transformed into a numinous quality. It was called spiritual nature. Something that could transform a soft lump of iron into an unbreakable divine sword flowed from his mind, along the meridians of both arms, to the Palace of Toil points in his palms.

Auspicious spiritual nature overlaid the current of core energy.

“Hmm...!”

Cheon Joo, who had been waiting for the boy, gave a low sound. The sword's force was dazzling in its qi waves alone. The ripples reaching his energy detection announced the birth of an unprecedented sword move.

A mystery of the martial world. The sole province of a Grandmaster who had opened the heavens.

An opening stance capable of containing a divine technique had taken shape. Sensing that its momentum had reached its peak, Cheon Joo attacked.

It was a horizontal strike accompanied by the Mobility Arts of Drifting Hidden Fragrance. A shock wave of core energy silently exploded from the Yongquan points in his soles, and Mount Hua's white Taoist robes dispersed forward like a delicate scent.

HUMMMM!

Cheon Joo's blade trajectory tore the wind apart. Translucent waves of sword force rose like clouds. Buds of core energy along the blade opened into colorless blossoms.

Mount Hua's Blossoms Adrift in Hidden Fragrance.

The essence of Plum Blossom Sword unfolded amid dozens of cold streaks of sword light. A strike unmistakably within a true virtuoso's domain raced toward Yeonshin.

KRAAASH!

The surge of martial force swallowed his upper body in an instant. Gasps burst from the viewing stands. Lady Ye shook off the Ye family head's hand and rose toward the platform.

At that moment, the boy was translating the sword path in his mind into movement with both hands. A two-handed sword strike.

Northern Radiance, now dyed vivid blue, moved. An illusion arose of black sleeves overlapping in layer upon layer. Transparent martial power swirled around his arms as they extended with his sword.

It was the third form of his nameless swordsmanship. A single unbroken line of radiance inscribed itself upon Blossoms Adrift in Hidden Fragrance. It cleaved straight through.

CLANG-CLANG-CLAAANG!

The vibration in his hands was tremendous, threatening to tear his grip apart. The sword resonance was deafeningly loud.

Unheeding, the boy thrust the hilt forward. His swing was precise, yet powerful. He deflected sword force, shattered the budding waves of force, and crushed the sword paths extending one after another.

Northern Radiance's trajectory bent onward in a single line. It took only an instant. At last, Mount Hua's Sword Saint's sigh reached its tip.

A dull sensation traveled along the blade. Yeonshin immediately relaxed his hands. The form's waves of force surrounding his arms scattered upward like leaves.

Then the plum blossom cloud of Blossoms Adrift in Hidden Fragrance slowly settled.

“Ah!”

Someone outside the platform let out a stifled cry.

The fight had ended.

The front of Yeonshin's clothing had been sliced wide open down to his waist. His black outer robe and the tunic underneath were all but stripped away. Two sword cuts marked his firm chest.

They were so shallow they seemed likely to close quickly, but blood ran down his sharply defined abdomen. The trousers of his black martial attire darkened further.

Cheon Joo stood with his sword lowered, his Taoist robes spotless. Only his white collar hung in severed tatters. But just above it, the boy's blade rested against his neck.

He had been subdued by a virtuoso's sword strike. It spoke to the precision of the form.

After silently studying the boy for a moment, Cheon Joo spoke, his eyes deep and still as an abyss.

“There was something unfamiliar in that exquisite movement. I know you created that sword move here, in this very place. With a single strike, you have made me understand Ma Jin's decision.”

“...”

“What is the form called? If it has no name yet...”

“Blue Flame, First Form.”

The young Radiant Demon Squad captain spoke as he sheathed his sword.

“There is nothing else.”

“...”

Wind blew through the silence. The boy captain closed his eyes, his upper body bare. His hair brushed the exposed skin of his shoulders and fluttered freely.