Silence flooded the grounds. An immense astonishment spread from the spectator stands holding nearly a thousand people to the watchtowers occupied by martial artists trained in Mobility Arts. Few seemed to realize that the founding ceremony's tournament had just ended.

But only for a moment. Cheers erupted first from those who knew little of such matters.

“Wooooooo!”

“The young master actually did it!”

“To think I'd live to witness such a sight! Isn't he magnificent!”

“All those renowned orthodox martial artists he defeated...”

The crowd could not guess what had happened. Only a handful of supreme masters could surmise the single method that might explain it. Yet there were things that became harder to believe precisely because one possessed broad experience and profound insight. The scene they had just witnessed was one of them.

“The Lord of Martial Fists' internal-energy barrier was intact when the blow landed.”

“A puncturing technique, then? Through the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist's protective force qi... Is that possible?”

“His control of core energy has already reached flawless perfection. I cannot even guess how many directions he moved that single strand of internal energy in. That would mean he treated a point as a plane and applied multiple rotations... Even as I say it, I find it difficult to accept. He generated Silk-Reeling Force with such precision in that instant?”

“Even catching the right instant to strike makes no sense. Not unless his calculations border on foresight.”

“A Black of Desolate Fortress at that age. There was good reason for that appointment...”

“The Lord of Martial Fists was far too careless. The Radiant Demon Squad captain was clearly at a disadvantage, yet while she prattled on, the boy had already found the beginnings of a way through her defenses. A born fighter with martial talent unmatched through the ages. She should never have given him time.”

“Talent capable of overturning a disparity in martial prowess... Truly astonishing.”

The crowd filling the stands numbered a thousand. Among them were masters unaffiliated with the Alliance who had come as casually as if on an outing. Martial artists who stood between the two paths and masters of factions that had not joined the Martial Alliance exchanged interested observations on martial principles. Beneath their discussions lay admiration for the new Radiant Demon Squad captain. Some wore peculiar expressions, displeased by Desolate Fortress's growing strength.

“The Alliance is unprecedented in scale. I thought even Desolate Fortress would hesitate for a while... Now there's no telling how the balance of power will shift.”

“The Martial Alliance has only two viable choices. Take an even harder line to preserve its dignity, or seek peace with Desolate Fortress.”

“Peace? Desolate Fortress is a great faction that knows nothing of negotiation. Wouldn't that be difficult unless they sent hostages?”

“A marriage alliance is worth considering. The noble clans use it often enough. If an important Black-rank figure were matched with someone prominent in the Alliance, who knows?”

“I doubt the Alliance is quite that desperate... But we shall see. The waves that Radiant Demon Squad captain has stirred will spread far.”

Meanwhile, silence reigned in the leadership pavilion beneath its splendid white awning.

“...”

No one ventured to speak. They merely watched the clan heads and the distinguished elders representing the leaders of the various factions for a reaction.

The Zhuge clan head, a figure of lofty bearing, remained silent, his face concealed behind a white-crane fan adorned with deep-blue tassels. His snow-white robe and equally pale skin exuded an especially chilling air. It looked less like petty anger than the brooding of an absolute ruler whose plans had gone awry.

The Martial Alliance's founding ceremony had become a stage for Desolate Fortress's propaganda. A newly appointed captain had displayed his might in the very heart of the Alliance, ultimately conquering its founding tournament as well.

Not one of the undertakings Lightning Genius, captain of the Radiant Demon Squad, had attempted here had offered any assurance of success or victory: the request to defeat the Sky-Swimming Sword Demon from the Sword Star, who remained secluded in his quarters, and the match against the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist, who had been supplied with counters to Lightning Genius's martial arts.

The very reason they had permitted the young supreme master's exploits and arranged this stage had come to nothing. The Alliance had stumbled from the outset.

“Just give him the Great Restoration Pill and send him away. It wasn't ours to begin with.”

The speaker was a middle-aged swordsman with prominent eyes. Clad in a dark-pink robe, he was the Murong clan head, the finest swordsman in Liaodong.

“The longer that brat stays, the more ill fortune seems to gather over Hanzhong. With the entire martial world watching, neither clan heads nor elders can do anything to him. Sending him away is the answer.”

“...”

“Quite a few of those you sent to devise counters have struck up friendships with the Radiant Demon Squad captain, Clan Head Zhuge. We should get rid of him before he wins a following among the orthodox factions. I hear that, unlike his insolence on the platform, he's gentle and honest by nature. That's some consolation. Now that he's conquered the founding tournament and earned our Alliance's recognition, concealing our guilty secrets will become a dreadful nuisance if he starts prying into our affairs.”

He spoke without restraint. He alone said what he pleased before the Zhuge clan head. He was alluding to the affair involving the Martial Alliance and the dead prefect—the one remaining cause for concern after the founding tournament's disastrous outcome.

The Zhuge clan head merely nodded in silence. Contempt seeped into his eyes as he watched the fallen Eon Hwaryeon. Fist practitioners from the Eon clan were approaching her, giving the Radiant Demon Squad captain a wide berth.

Fresh blood trickled from Eon Hwaryeon's lips, her heart meridian ruptured. To one side, Lightning Genius stood holding the flag amid the crowd's cheers. At this moment, the boy stood at the center of the world. For now, he did.

After glancing at them, the Murong clan head turned toward the stands. The Radiant Demon Squad captain's subordinate, who had denounced Eon Hwaryeon earlier, was cheering.

“That fellow.”

A chill entered the Murong clan head's eyes.

“He looks familiar somehow. Quite apart from this affair, something about him has been bothering me. I cannot recall where I've seen him. It won't have been a pleasant acquaintance.”

“He's an insignificant good-for-nothing. Judging by his conduct, his origins seem lowly as well.”

Murong Mingjun spoke from the neighboring seat, dressed in pale-pink martial robes. Following his father's gaze, he glared at Heon Wonchang. He continued slowly.

“He's little more than an idle braggart. As for his martial prowess...”

He broke off. He examined Heon Wonchang with the eye technique he had obtained from the tomb of an unidentified Heavenly Demon. A strange sensation stopped him from making a firm pronouncement. This was different from the Radiant Demon Squad captain, whose strength lay beyond Murong Mingjun's ability to judge. What he saw was clearly all there was, yet the supreme eye technique seemed to urge him to look more closely.

“You haven't learned it in vain.”

The Murong clan head glanced at his son.

“He showed exceptional hostility even among Desolate Fortress's envoys. Keep watch on him too until the Radiant Demon Squad captain leaves.”

“... Yes.”

Murong Mingjun lowered his head slightly.

The elders of the Alliance's two greatest pillars were authoritarian in this way. It was true of both the Murong and Zhuge clans. The rising generation with claims to succession had no choice but to obey their clan heads.

Murong Mingjun was even competing for precedence with his sister, who remained at their ancestral home. The Murong clan's eldest daughter had recently strengthened her position by bringing in a master of the noble race as a husband who would join her household. That member of the exalted race was an accomplished expert who possessed a secret method for enriching the clan's soil in years of poor harvest.

'I must distinguish myself.'

His dignity was his father's dignity. That was how the younger generation of renowned clans was raised. He could not compromise their standing with rash words or actions.

“I will watch him closely, along with the Radiant Demon Squad captain.”

Murong Mingjun spoke again. His father gave him an indifferent glance, then spoke on the Zhuge clan head's behalf.

“At any rate, let us finish the remaining proceedings within two days and send him off. Only the Sword Star will be sorry to see him go.”

The crowd did not leave. Their excited chatter filled the clear sunlight with clamor. The Alliance leadership, confident that the Eon Clan's Foremost Fist would win, had taken the initiative in announcing the program. Although the match between the Sword Star and the Radiant Demon Squad captain was scheduled for tomorrow, today's final event still remained.

The Martial Alliance's founding ceremony was a festival that had been widely publicized for a long time. Notices posted throughout the Central Plains had drawn tremendous attention. They had announced well in advance that Shaolin's Great Restoration Pill would be offered. Many had gathered in the hope of catching even a trace of the fragrance of the spirit pill bestowed upon the champion.

“Is that...”

“That peerless spirit medicine is inside there.”

“Doesn't the air seem purer?”

The people murmured among themselves.

After Eon Hwaryeon had been carried away on the backs of the Jinju Eon clan's masters, the Martial Alliance's chief strategist for internal affairs ascended the platform. Her long robes fluttered, catching the brilliant white sunlight. Lady Ye held an antique wooden box in both hands.

With a soft footfall, she approached Jung Yeonshin. The boy watched her silently, his flag lowered at an angle. As the clear autumn breeze brushed the Radiant Demon Squad captain's black robe, the two came face-to-face.

“It's the Great Restoration Pill.”

Her lips moved.

“I've checked it myself. It's genuine.”

“All right,” the boy said, looking at the wooden box she held in both hands.

There lay the fruit of the considerable time he had spent at the Alliance. He had earned ample merit. All that remained was to safeguard his maternal grandfather's health.

As he smoothly accepted the box, their hands brushed beneath it. A soft touch grazed the side of Jung Yeonshin's finger. Her fingertips were unusually delicate for a martial artist, despite the considerable mastery of footwork evident in her steps.

She spoke playfully.

“My congratulations, young Captain.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

Thanks to Fan Dragon Zhuge Hyeon, Gongsun Min, the Young Sword Empress, and Perfected One Cheon Joo, he no longer held prejudices against everyone in the Alliance. They were different from its other distinguished figures. Even now, a feeling flowed toward him that seemed to soften his upper dantian with warmth. Lady Ye's goodwill was pure. She had been consistent from their first meeting until now.

'I don't know her innermost thoughts, but I should return the kindness.'

Jung Yeonshin spoke calmly, thinking of the people he had befriended. He intended to invite not only Zhuge Hyeon and Gongsun Min, whom he had just recalled, but Perfected One Cheon Joo, Yoo Hyun, and the Young Sword Empress as well.

“Come to the Court of Graceful Fragrance before I leave, and I'll serve you Longjing tea. I have plenty prepared,” the boy said.

At that moment, Lady Ye's exhalation deepened briefly. Her ruby-red lips curved upward a little. How were the eyes beneath that white silk looking at him? Quite apart from his upper dantian's energy detection, she was beautiful.

'Beautiful?'

The boy repeated his own thought with a sullen inward protest. Once, while looking at Ak Surim, the Desolate Divine Spear, he had felt the reality of death. Along with an ache in his knees had come a peculiar feeling, something he had never experienced before. He had become inexplicably conscious of a woman. He was growing older. Now the feeling was even clearer than it had been then.

Had all those who started families—had his own mother—lived with such cumbersome feelings? It was strange and frightening. To the boy, natural change meant only that his doom had drawn nearer.

Death stroked his spine.

Jung Yeonshin gazed at Lady Ye as she met his eyes. Her snow-white blindfold seemed like her eyes themselves. Sunlight shimmered across it, indifferent to his confusion, and he looked away without realizing it. As though turning away from the annihilation drawing closer with the end of autumn.

“You invited me, didn't you? I really will come, you know?”

“If you don't send word ahead, my companion will turn you away.”

“All right. I'll send a letter first.”

She answered with a smile, a pure, crimson smile.

The curve of Lady Ye's lips seemed to awaken the crowd anew, bringing home the fact that the founding tournament was over. Another cheer rose, louder than ever. The cries rang out as though they would fling the heavens open. The joys and sorrows of the gambling-loving people of the Central Plains seeped into the blue sky.

“Captain of the Radiant Demon Squad! Such strength in a young master who follows the path of chivalry!”

“Lightning Genius won! I'm a wealthy man now!”

“I lost everything!”

“Thank you for broadening my horizons!”

Amid the tremendous cheering, the boy heard Lady Ye's soft footfall distinctly.

“Rest well today. I'll see you tomorrow.”

She turned slowly. She seemed to be wearing formal attire today; her long skirt brushed lightly across the floor. A quiet laugh escaped her. Her jet-black hair fluttered as though smiling in her stead, its color contrasting with the white folds of her courtly dress. Lady Ye walked lightly away.

The black-robed boy stood alone on the platform. In his left hand he held the wooden box containing the Great Restoration Pill; in his right, he held the great hero of Desolate Fortress's white Desolate Banner lowered at an angle. The cheering swelled without end. Respect and goodwill, anger and joy at the outcome of the founding tournament all swirled through the grounds.

* * *

The next day.

Seated upright beside the pond at the Court of Graceful Fragrance, the boy received three visitors. They were eminent figures rarely encountered anywhere. Even the two relatively younger visitors were no exception. Their faces shone in the autumn sunlight. Among them was the distinguished swordsman of Mount Hua.

“Apart from my personal business... I've come to offer you a clue to unifying your swordsmanship into a coherent whole. Linked forms are the foundation of swordsmanship. Loosely strung-together moves won't suffice if you mean to withstand the Sword Star's blade,” said Perfected One Cheon Joo.

Mountain birds sang on the branches overhead, their notes clear. One day remained until the “Sword Star's instruction”—the face-saving measure the Alliance leadership had prepared against an unfavorable outcome.