The boy repeatedly squatted and rose with an enormous timber balanced across his back. His back muscles stood out in sharp definition. Every so often, he remained crouched in a horse stance.

He was Jung Yeonshin, the third son of the Jeong Clan Estate in Henan, who had turned fifteen that year.

"Young master, dinner is served!"

A servant called from far away, near the entrance to the training grounds. The thick-browed boy did not answer.

'I should finish first.'

Only after ten more repetitions did he lower the wooden pillar and casually pick up the shirt he had taken off.

He was not large, but even unflexed, the muscles covering his body brought diamonds to mind.

It was no ordinary physique. Not only did his body look unlike that of anyone his age, it was strange enough to make him seem a different species from ordinary people. Even he thought so.

'The Movement Art... It's fully established now.'

His martial art differed from the usual practice of sitting cross-legged and drawing in nature's energy through regulated breathing and circulation.

He had discarded his family's internal martial art, which told him to do nothing but sit and breathe pointlessly. He had dismantled its formula and reinvented it as the Movement Art, which accumulated energy through motion.

He could do this because he had manipulated qi with ease since childhood, and the durability and elasticity of the acupoints throughout his body, through which his internal energy flowed, were on an entirely different level from those of ordinary humans.

Once, he had believed that even half siblings shared affection. He had gone around suggesting that they try learning it.

Their replies had been perfectly sensible.

["You created a martial art?"]

["What if we suffer qi deviation practicing it? Will you take responsibility if we die?"]

["Do you think you have the makings of a Grandmaster?"]

Faced with their derisive laughter and heartfelt mockery, he gave up. The boy stopped devising martial formulas.

That day, his siblings had wounded him just as the indifferent head of the family had. It hurt all the more because they were right.

'A Grandmaster.'

In the martial world, the word Grandmaster meant something different from its everyday usage. It referred to the creator of a martial art worthy of founding a sect.

Even setting aside figures who had been Grandmasters in both religion and martial arts—Zhang Sanfeng of Wudang, and Batuo, Bodhidharma, and Huike of Shaolin—no martial artist would deny that the patriarchs who had created the orthodox teachings of the other Nine Great Sects were Grandmasters.

It was a lofty notion.

Jung Yeonshin had never even considered becoming a Grandmaster, nor had he attached much significance to creating martial arts.

He had simply wanted them all to grow healthier together.

Alone, he had steadily practiced only the Movement Art. Perhaps part of him had wanted to show them.

Its effects were clear. The parts of his body engaged during sword practice or physical training grew stronger. His internal power nourished his muscles and compressed them tightly. His present body was the result.

'I've reached Great Completion. Just now.'

He was certain.

The martial art he had casually named the Jeong family's Movement Art had reached the limit of its effectiveness. As he had realized through training, his body could grow no stronger than this.

Apart from Shaolin's martial monks, whose heights seemed beyond reach, a physique like his was probably rare even in Henan Province.

Assuming he was not merely a frog at the bottom of a well, gazing up at Henan's sky.

"Young maaaster!"

"Coming."

Jung Yeonshin answered offhandedly as the servant, looking increasingly anxious, urged him on. He knew why the man was acting that way.

The head of the Jeong Clan Estate was a stern, patriarchal man. Yeonshin's mother, his third wife, had passed away after a difficult labor.

It was an age rife with superstition, particularly in a backwater like this.

He was the child who had killed his mother in a difficult birth. No one in the family looked kindly on him. Not even its head.

'As long as they feed me well.'

Jung Yeonshin walked on, thinking little of it.

With no blood relative here who showed him affection, he had naturally come to devote himself solely to martial arts.

He harbored no grand ambitions of rising in the world or making a name for himself by traveling the martial world. He simply enjoyed delving into martial learning.

As he passed the quarters of the family's resident guests, he heard their children reciting their lessons.

"Recite chapter one, verse four of the main text of the Outline of the Great Ming."

"Our brethren, long of ear and short of stature, returned through the heavenly gate, destroyed the wicked Yuan, and founded the Great Ming alongside the founding emperor."

"Chapter one, verse eight."

"A gigantic evil spirit pursued our brethren, but by closing the gate in time, they were able to annihilate it."

The passages were familiar to Jung Yeonshin as well. He walked past with a quiet chuckle.

"You're late, you dullard."

Upon reaching the dining hall, he received a warm greeting from his eldest half brother.

At the sight of that narrow-eyed glare, Jung Yeonshin's pectoral muscles gave a throb.

"It's been a while, Brother."

"If you're late, hurry up and sit."

Jung Namsan, the eldest son of the Jeong Clan Estate, snorted as he spoke.

Jung Yeonshin gave a slight nod and took his seat at the far end of the long dining table, surveying the gathering.

The head of the family sat at the place of honor, flanked by his first and second wives. Below them sat the others, from Jung Namsan, his wife, and their daughter down to Yeonshin's fifth sister.

It went against proper order for him to occupy the lowest seat when younger siblings were present. But between his father's indifference and the incessant demands of the first and second wives, he had long since become a member of the direct line in name only.

'It's made life easier, at least.'

With no important family position, he had neither duties nor responsibilities. They still fed him well, allowing him to concentrate on training.

'He's positively dying of happiness.'

The smiling head of the family had his eyes on Yeonshin's square-jawed second brother.

This dinner was an early farewell for the second son, who would soon depart to study the martial arts of the Zhongnan Sect.

It was a sect that vied for supremacy in Shaanxi Province, a region as large as many a small kingdom.

Now one of the Nine Great Sects, the illustrious Zhongnan stood alongside Mount Hua as one of the two great rivals for the honor of being Shaanxi's foremost sect.

To enter one of the world's Nine Great Sects as a formally registered disciple was an extraordinary honor.

Enough to warrant this lavish banquet even as failed harvests left the continent rotting away.

When the head of the family lifted his cup, the household followed suit.

"Ever since my late father, a disciple of Zhongnan's Sword Immortal, founded this house, I have devoted my entire life to making our clan prosper. Had I wished to win renown throughout the world, I, too, would have inherited Zhongnan's ultimate techniques! But how could I have forsaken the family enterprise? I am simply overjoyed that my son, at least, will follow my late father's footsteps up Mount Zhongnan."

"An auspicious day indeed."

"My warmest congratulations, Brother."

The head of the family claimed he could have become a Zhongnan disciple had he only wished it. The household flattered both him and his second son.

For a satisfying life in the martial world, it was better to be the head of a snake than the tail of a dragon.

The Jeong Clan Estate was a major landowner and the de facto keeper of order in the county. Within Xinye County, this martial family wielded power comparable to the magistrate's.

Here in their own neighborhood, they had no reason to envy the Nine Great Sects.

'Join Zhongnan at the bottom of the ladder, and you'd start by polishing the ancestral masters' memorial tablets.'

Jung Yeonshin simply ate his fill.

"Wouldn't you say Zhongnan these days stands half a step above Mount Hua?"

"Some outstanding young masters have indeed descended from the mountain."

"The Great Battle of Shaanxi certainly suggests as much. They say the Sky Sword Dragon beheaded the leader of the unorthodox band that had run rampant in Guanzhong. The Plum Blossom Swordsmen may be strong, but surely they cannot match our eldest martial brother, the Sword Dragon."

His second brother was already calling one of Zhongnan's rising generation disciples his eldest martial brother, as though he had joined the sect himself.

Jung Yeonshin gave a faint, incredulous chuckle, then froze as he reached for a pancake.

The head of the family was watching him with a disapproving gaze.

'Should I have joined in the flattery a little?'

His father slowly spoke.

"I hear my third son spends all day at the training grounds. How far have you progressed in the Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword?"

"I find the principles of our family art difficult to grasp, so even minor success has been hard to attain. I can only feel ashamed."

Jung Yeonshin straightened respectfully as he answered.

The Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword was the Jeong family's own martial art.

Like martial arts everywhere, it bore a grandiose name. In reality, it was a sword art assembled from a poorly understood, watered-down version of the opening forms of Zhongnan's Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven.

That was generally how lay disciples of Taoist sects such as Zhongnan and Mount Hua established martial houses of their own.

Strictly applying sect rules, it was indeed the grave crime of betraying one's master and dishonoring one's martial ancestors.

Reality was different, however. The parent sect generally turned a blind eye so long as suitable donations arrived regularly.

The parent sect received money and provisions, while the lay branch received protection under its name. Both sides benefited.

'The Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword was why I deliberately focused more on the Movement Art.'

He could see far too much that needed fixing.

What else could he do when even a cursory glance revealed a host of sword trajectories that failed to connect properly?

It was obvious that if he formally began studying it, he would find it unbearable not to revise the sword art.

Sometimes, wounds suffered early in life determine a child's patterns of behavior.

That was true of Jung Yeonshin.

His siblings' ridicule had irrationally driven the boy to devote himself solely to the Movement Art.

The head of the family clicked his tongue.

"Your eldest and second brothers already have Great Completion within sight. Your effort is commendable, so I will inquire no further. But you ought to reflect on whether you truly are applying yourself at the training grounds."

"I will take your advice to heart."

Jung Yeonshin even clasped his hands in a martial salute and waited until his father's gaze moved away. He paid no heed to how his brothers and sisters regarded him.

'Caring would only get me hurt.'

He turned his attention back to dinner.

Popping a piece of expertly fried Lantian chicken leg into his mouth, he listened with half an ear to the conversation around him.

"With the trouble among Guanzhong's unorthodox factions and all the rest, the situation is troubling. Chief Steward."

"Yes, my lord."

"How is our network of informants coming along? I hardly expect anything on the level of the Beggars' Sect or Hao Faction. But shouldn't we at least be able to approach the major sects' covert networks?"

"I believe we should be able to manage something here in Xinye, at least."

"Good. Very good."

It happened then.

"Masters of the Zhongnan Sect have arrived!"

It was the voice of Zhang, the gatekeeper. In an instant, the dining hall descended into chaos.

They had received word that someone would come to fetch the family's second son, but had not known when to expect them.

"Quickly, show them in! No! I'll go myself!"

All trace of his earlier solemn dignity vanished as the head of the family scrambled to his feet and prepared to welcome his honored guests.

Everyone else present did the same.

'I'm curious.'

Jung Yeonshin disliked fuss. Ordinarily, he would have quietly slipped away to the training grounds.

But this was one of the Nine Great Sects. Masters of Zhongnan were another matter.

When else would he have a chance to see renowned martial artists from a great sect whose fame spanned the world?

"Which eminent master could it be?"

"Surely not the Sky Sword Dragon? Or someone of the elders' generation?"

For once, his expectant siblings looked like children.

Barely noticeable amid the crowd, Jung Yeonshin accompanied them to the main gate.

The head of the family, who had raced ahead using his lightness skill, was bowing to three people with his hands clasped in a martial salute.

"I hardly know how to receive the honor of your personal visit to so humble a house. I am Jung Daemyung, the head of this family."

The three returned his martial salute. The woman at their head had an extraordinary appearance.

Her hair shone like molten gold, and her ears were long as leaves.

Even her exquisite yet alien features, like those of a celestial maiden descended to earth, were secondary to those.

"The noble race...!"

The eldest son, Jung Namsan, murmured almost in a groan. Glancing over, Yeonshin saw him staring with an utter lack of decorum and inwardly clicked his tongue.

'So the noble race really do look the way the books describe. Fascinating.'

Xinye County had once been renowned as a hub of trade and travel. But after a battle between strange beings altered the terrain near the end of the Yuan dynasty, it had remained a small backwater.

It was not easy for country folk to encounter the noble race.

These "brethren of the Central Plains," said to have descended from heaven and founded the Ming alongside its founding emperor, could supposedly only be seen in Beijing, in the military, among the Nine Great Sects, or in illustrious martial clans.

'I heard a physician of the noble race visited our home when I was born.'

He knew no details.

He could not ask the master of the estate, and all the servants likely to know the circumstances shied away from him.

"I am deeply moved by your hospitality. I am Yeo Il-Shin, an elder of Zhongnan."

The Zhongnan elder of the noble race smiled. It was a smile so beautiful that merely seeing it felt refreshing, yet no one present with any real knowledge could bring themselves to smile back.

'An elder of the noble race from one of the Nine Great Sects?'

Then she was a founding contributor to the Great Ming Empire. The noble race was said not to age.

She must have played a major role in driving out the Yuan alongside Zhongnan's great ancestral master.

"I-I failed to recognize an immortal!"

It was not only the head of the family.

Both the household behind him and the resident guests who had emerged from various quarters to watch clasped their hands and bowed. Some even prostrated themselves.

'Isn't that a bit much?'

Jung Yeonshin clasped his hands in a martial salute and bent at the waist just far enough to be proper. When he raised his head slightly, his eyes met Yeo Il-Shin's.

She was regarding him with a peculiar look.