The sound of flowing liquid was clear.

"..."

Jung Yeonshin, captain of the Radiant Demon Squad, gently tilted the wine bottle. The cup filled with Dukang wine at an exceedingly slow pace.

A minute tremor ran through the cup held by Eon Hwaryeon, the Lord of Martial Fists. The wine, infused with core energy, bore down in a mighty wave.

Her fingers, wrapped around the cup, kept it from shattering. This was a contest of core-energy control—a battle of wits between supreme masters.

The boy had deliberately struck first to conceal his disadvantage.

Masters who had united their essence, qi, and spirit could draw in and release internal energy faster than Jung Yeonshin.

The realm in which core energy cultivated through breathing, a finely honed body, and the spiritual nature of the upper dantian harmonized as one was called Three Flowers Gather at the Crown.

The three flowers became one. Thus did martial monsters who could send internal energy racing at the speed of thought walk the domain of Black rank.

'They've trained for decades at the very least.'

Jung Yeonshin, who owed his present martial prowess to the extraordinary capabilities of his upper dantian, faced Black-rank opponents with senses bordering on foresight.

He had to begin executing his forms sooner than his opponent merely to meet them on equal terms.

Every fight from Sichuan to here had been that way. Even when he appeared to exchange moves evenly—or overwhelmingly in his favor—a fierce struggle lay beneath his actions.

Temporarily exhausted by Blue Flame, First Form, he could not afford to trade blows now.

A supreme master of the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist's caliber might seek to exchange a move at any moment. She was powerful enough to roam this harsh world freely, to eat her fill and train even in a famine. With a worthy opponent before her, she had no reason to restrain herself.

That was why he had used pouring wine as a pretext to draw her into a contest of internal energy: to keep her from noticing the new Radiant Demon Squad captain's weakness.

The density of the Dharma-Surpassing Radiant Wheel Art surpassed that of most masters on his level. She would hardly dare judge his other capabilities from it.

Eon Hwaryeon let out a faint huff, a breath tinged with laughter.

A thin smile touched her lips. Lounging in her seat, she looked up at Jung Yeonshin as qi spread in transparent ripples and swept upward past her eyelashes.

It was a surge of the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist's internal energy. Her powerfully rising core energy squeezed the wine cup, holding it together.

The blue veins standing out on the back of her hand testified to the sublime level of this silent contest.

CRACK.

The cup suddenly fractured. Clear liquid trickled down a line spreading from its base.

The dripping wine filled the room's silence.

The young Radiant Demon Squad captain wordlessly righted the bottle.

Ak Yerim's eyes widened slightly. The Eon Clan's Foremost Fist had failed to receive his wine.

Would the same scene unfold if their positions were reversed? That was difficult to judge for now.

"There must have been plenty of fools," Eon Hwaryeon began, "who brought up your age, only to be struck dumb all over again. I don't need to have seen it to know."

"..."

"I'm surprised for a different reason. To think a child would lecture me to my face on drinking etiquette. Live long enough, and you really do see everything. It's clearly a paltry provocation, yet hearing it from your mouth feels peculiar. You have a temperament well suited to my clan."

"Provocation?"

"I mean you're a born fighter. An effective provocation has always been a consummate technique. Bait an attack and secure the right counter, and you ultimately take control of the exchanges. You can anticipate the direction of your opponent's move and choose your counter beforehand. With your internal energy, that response would be truly fearsome. I'll have to be careful."

She finished unhurriedly.

Insight flashed through her languid voice. It was chilling.

The power of the Eight Great Families flowed beneath her wine-flushed face. Unlike the Nine Great Sects, there was nothing aloof about it. It was closer to confidence that she could smash whatever stood in her way.

The discerning eye of a master from an eminent clan that had amassed wealth, power, and martial might in the secular world was frighteningly accurate. It was honed for conflict.

"You're inferring how I fight from my words and actions."

Jung Yeonshin sounded amused. The person before him offered something new.

He was reminded that other supreme masters assessed their opponents in this way, too.

The boy was a little different. Simply processing everything his senses took in was demanding enough. Eon Hwaryeon, the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist.

The patterns in the faint fluctuations of her internal energy, the shape of her arms exposed by her sleeveless robes, the flow of core energy she had used to receive the wine—all were clues to unraveling the woman called the Lord of Martial Fists.

'Her martial arts are direct. Her punches will be incredibly fast. If she's made her name throughout the world as a fist master, she must have cultivated extraordinarily solid protective force qi, too.'

Swift martial arts and tightly woven protective force qi came to mind first.

As a supreme master called the Jinju Eon clan's foremost fist, she would also have learned secret techniques contrary to her principal arts.

He had to account for the subtleties of Harmonizing Force found in the Wudang Sect's taiji fist arts, or methods of projecting waves of force like Shaolin's Hundred-Pace Divine Fist.

Jung Yeonshin tried to determine which muscles she would chiefly use. Nothing immediately suggested itself.

Eon Hwaryeon's entire body was remarkably evenly developed. She carried the bearing of a fully realized fist master. No obvious weakness presented itself.

If anything, he welcomed it.

Displaying the same sword move repeatedly in hostile territory was foolish.

That remained true even if the boy enjoyed seeing counters to his martial arts. He could not indulge that pleasure in the presence of the Eight Families' heads, whom he still found difficult to handle.

"I've heard about your fist techniques," Eon Hwaryeon said with a smile.

"I'd like to see the move that ended the Namgoong line. I intend to stick so close that you won't be able to use that iron skewer of yours. Unless you've learned something like the Eight Great Cloud Dragon Forms, you'll have to answer with fist and palm arts."

Her meaning was clear. She was speaking of Radiant River.

She showed no restraint even before Ak Yerim, who had been Namgoong Sejin's betrothed. Utter self-supremacy suited her well.

She continued, "You may consider it an honor. I'm saying I have no objection to pressing bodies with you in a close-range exchange. It would be different if you were some sorry-looking fellow. Someone like you is worth going all out for."

Her double meaning carried a teasing insinuation.

The notion that men and women should remain apart did not apply in Murim. Ever since the noble race had helped establish the Ming dynasty, martial artists' standing had ceased to depend on gender.

Anyone who properly learned martial arts could become strong, regardless of age or sex. It was a world where the weak had to endure any provocation.

Just as the boy had lectured her on drinking etiquette, her words were a provocation.

"Now, let me pour you a drink."

Eon Hwaryeon deployed a grappling technique. Extending her fingers, she disrupted Jung Yeonshin's wrist position and took the bottle.

The sequence was extraordinarily fluid. Its subtleties would have been difficult to counter in a single move even had he resisted in earnest, but the boy made no particular attempt to oppose her.

He merely brushed his sword hilt with his left hand to prevent her from seizing the vital point at his wrist. From that position, an upward cut with a reverse grip would take her wrist off.

She placed a wine cup in his hand and laughed.

"How am I supposed to drink with you when you're so frightening? The Radiant Demon Squad captain has his sword in hand as though he's ready to kill."

"Giving a fist master complete control of my arm would be stupid," the boy replied calmly.

Eon Hwaryeon's smile widened as she tilted the jade bottle toward his cup.

Its mouth tapped the rim, and clear Dukang wine flowed out.

This time, there was no sign of anything unusual. Unlike the boy, she seemed not to have infused it with internal energy.

"Child, I have no wish to spend my time bickering. Life is too short even for pleasure. Chivalry, etiquette—it's all fleeting. There are so many encumbrances in this martial world. You'll understand in another ten years. You don't seem a foolish child, so by then you'll surely think back on my words at least once."

"Thank you," the boy replied.

Words that spoke of a time beyond three years from now were generally well-wishes to him.

He had finished assessing his last worthy opponent in the founding ceremony and had been about to leave. She had offered him some kind words just as he was turning to go.

Eon Hwaryeon's long eyebrows dipped, then rose.

"If you appreciate my advice, drink a cup. It feels a little unfair that I'm the only one getting tipsy."

Just then, the Supreme Flame Dragon abruptly reached out and took Jung Yeonshin's cup.

"Captain, let's drink somewhere else. I'll teach you drinking etiquette."

White light flickered in the eyes of the Hwangbo clan's poppy addict.

It was the Hwangbo clan's secret eye technique. Though inferior to those of the Zhuge and Murong clans, it was still a consummate art of the Eight Families.

Years of pleasure-seeking had taught the Supreme Flame Dragon the tricks of drug-peddling internal-energy practitioners.

The instant Eon Hwaryeon tipped the bottle, a white current peculiar to a mind-bewildering drug had spread out.

She had gripped a different part of the bottle from Jung Yeonshin and applied internal energy, dissolving a drug she had previously affixed there with her power. Anyone unaware of the trick would inevitably dismiss it as vapor.

It was not a lethal poison. It merely induced sleep, unconsciousness, or numbness.

A potent poison capable of instantly killing a supreme master could not be administered so easily.

However, the moment he raised his internal energy to resist, he would expose his own core energy unguarded.

That was different from Jung Yeonshin's localized release of radiant wheel qi when he tested Eon Hwaryeon.

He had come to scout her out and nearly had his own capabilities laid bare instead.

"As if even a wholesome drink would be enough for him, and you offer this foul stuff..."

Blazing Yang Core Energy rose from the Supreme Flame Dragon's hand. The wine bubbled, then rose in a thread of vapor.

The white plume reached the ceiling before mingling with the breeze and dispersing. Off to one side, Ak Yerim covered her lips with a hand.

Ignoring her, the Supreme Flame Dragon sneered.

"Pulling this kind of shit. Have you no pride?"

"The world really is unforgiving. It's hard to live in peace."

Eon Hwaryeon smiled sheepishly, as though she had merely made a drunken mistake. The shameless, languid smile suited her surprisingly well.

"Let's go."

Jung Yeonshin slowly turned away. There was nothing to gain from arguing here. Hanzhong was the territory of the Zhuge Clan and the Martial Alliance.

A petty trick by Eon Hwaryeon would be covered up without a second thought. Having Heon Wonchang publicize it would be troublesome, too.

The most effective retaliation would be to crush her with his martial arts at the founding ceremony and take the Great Restoration Pill.

That was when Eon Hwaryeon abruptly spoke.

"Child. When you rescued Mount Hua's sect leader's direct successor-disciple, there was quite an uproar over the prefect's death. That official had maintained good relations with our Alliance."

"..."

"I hear the prefect's head was taken off in a single stroke... Would you happen to know anything? They say that Mount Hua disciple claimed never to have seen the prefect. Even though every trace of the prefect's movements pointed to that remote island. It was quite suspicious. Just like your silence now."

Her voice was like a snake's whisper. Above her flushed cheeks, Eon Hwaryeon's half-lidded eyes held the black-robed boy.

There was something peculiar about the way she waited for an answer. She brought to mind a fist master on the verge of unleashing a concentrated straight punch.

Her clear gaze swept down the back of his neck. However hearty and carefree she might appear, Eon Hwaryeon was unmistakably a member of the Eight Families.

The letter the Zhuge clan head had sent to the prefect.

It promised to overlook the plundering of commoners in exchange for assistance in the exchange of goods between Hanzhong and Yunyang.

It was evidence that a local government office and a martial faction had colluded during a famine. The Alliance appeared to have searched desperately for it since Yoo Hyun's return.

An official of the prefect's stature had no reason to destroy a document that could choke the Alliance.

Eventually, they had come to suspect the Radiant Demon Squad captain who had rescued Yoo Hyun.

"You mean the island where they penned up commoners like livestock."

The boy spoke, turning only his head a little.

"What a laughable thing for someone called the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist to say. If the prefect was there, that means the prefect was involved in plundering the people. If you assume that and still insist on finding the prefect, doesn't that suggest some corrupt connection between you? How dare you try to interrogate me?"

"That's an unusually long speech from you. Because commoners are involved? You speak just like a Desolate Fortress warrior."

She chuckled and waved a hand.

"Off you go, then. I'll see you on the platform tomorrow."

"I wonder what it feels like to be beaten with words and fists at the same time. I've never experienced it... Hmm. In any case, Foremost Fist, do survive and tell me."

With those parting words from the Supreme Flame Dragon, the two descended the stairs.

Ak Yerim pressed her lips together, her expression conflicted.

Leaning at an angle against the wall, Eon Hwaryeon spun the cracked wine cup between her fingers.

"That'll put some spring in my punches. Those two really know how to get under a person's skin."

"..."

"It's been a while since I pounded someone to a pulp. I should try that Great Restoration Pill while I'm at it... I hope the Alliance Leader goes easy on me."

Among supreme masters of equal standing, self-belief was almost indispensable. Theirs was an exceedingly delicate world.

A move unleashed without firm intent could never carry its full strength.

Eon Hwaryeon's lips curved. Her smile held anticipation.

* * *

Brilliant white sunlight settled on the pavilion roof.

Zhuge Cheonga bathed and purified herself.

It was an important day. Today would determine the means by which she could cut down the tyranny of her father, the Zhuge clan head.

If Lightning Genius, the Radiant Demon Squad captain, could not handle Eon Hwaryeon, the Lord of Martial Fists, she would have to devise a new plan.

The girl earnestly hoped it would not come to that.

She arranged her black hair, bound with sky-blue silk, behind her neck and neatly straightened her clothes.

Her pale blue sleeves brushed softly through the air. The fabric had an indigo cast, and the garments were closer to ceremonial robes than martial attire.

Her elder brother, Fan Dragon Zhuge Hyeon, knew nothing.

Utterly absorbed in the Radiant Demon Squad captain's matches, he had left early that morning to secure a spot with a good view even within the Alliance leadership's tent.

In the meantime, Zhuge Cheonga had gone to confirm that the Blue Qilin's body remained intact and in its place.

With over a hundred factions involved, the Alliance's affairs were complicated. There was no telling when the Namgoong clan might change its mind and retrieve the corpse.

'I'm sorry. You'll be able to rest now.'

After paying her respects once more, she headed for the founding ceremony's tournament platform.

The streets within the Alliance were deserted. The girl walked through nothing but dust-laden gusts. Everyone seemed to have gone to broaden their knowledge by watching the supreme masters fight.

With no one in sight, it felt terribly lonely. Like the look in the Radiant Demon Squad captain's eyes when she had faced him before.

'He has to win.'

Zhuge Cheonga thought as she walked.

He had to conquer the founding ceremony. Her plan depended on the great fury of a powerful man acknowledged by the assembled heroes.

With a righteous cause, he had to establish his convictions through force.

But Eon Hwaryeon's renown as the Lord of Martial Fists was far too great. The epithet Eon Clan's Foremost Fist was not far from adequate to describe her.

Her name was well known among the Eight Great Families.

Even her affair with the widowed Zhuge clan head had not embroiled her in any great scandal. That was how powerful she was.

Everyone in the Alliance was under her father's influence.

'Please.'

As Zhuge Cheonga clasped her pale hands, cheers reached her ears. She could see the crowd surrounding the platform, almost completely hiding it from view.

Core energy infused her steps. With a lightness skill, she reached the platform in an instant.

TAP.

She nimbly ascended a watchtower reserved for distinguished guests.

Zhuge Cheonga hurriedly turned her gaze.

How many exchanges had they already fought? The two figures at the center of the platform came into view.

Eon Hwaryeon was retreating with evasive footwork, while Jung Yeonshin pursued with earth-shaking stomps.

A spiraling gale burst from the young Radiant Demon Squad captain's hand. Colorless waves of force whirled.

They surged forward explosively, smashing and pulverizing the platform floor.

Even the pitch-black skirts of the boy's long robe, fluttering behind him, seemed terrifying.

Everything she saw seemed to proclaim the stature of a Desolate Fortress captain.

ROOOOAR!

The girl had arrived at an extraordinary moment.