“White robes won't be enough? What do you mean?”

“Ah, don't misunderstand. I don't have the authority to give you blue martial robes. Neither does our captain.”

“Then?”

“Just a moment.”

Chung Myung turned aside and rummaged through his belongings. Understanding dawned on Ma Jin's and Baek Miryeo's faces. Soon, Chung Myung pulled out his own blue outer robe and strode over to Jung Yeonshin.

“I'll lend you mine.”

The robe billowed as he draped it over Jung Yeonshin. Yeonshin glanced at the shoulder of the blue garment covering him, then looked up, thoroughly puzzled.

“I don't understand what this means.”

It was Baek Miryeo who answered him.

“White martial robes beneath a blue Desolate Fortress outer robe. It means you're a rising talent of the Desolate Fortress, vouched for on a blue-robed warrior's honor.”

A rising talent. In Murim, that designation was not given to just anyone. It was no casual compliment. It meant one of the finest among the younger generation walking the martial path. Receiving it less than half a year after entering the Desolate Fortress made it weigh all the more heavily.

She smiled. Though entirely free of ulterior motives, her smile was captivating.

“It grants you the authority to command all the Desolate Fortress's white-robed warriors. I was going to give you mine.”

“Yours is too narrow in the shoulders.”

Chung Myung gave a small smile and looked at Jung Yeonshin.

“If anyone asks, tell them the Radiant Demon Squad's Demonic Swordsman has acknowledged you. That should keep most people from picking a fight.”

“You may use the name Wave Swordswoman as well. Consider it as though I, too, have given you my robe.”

“... Thank you.”

Jung Yeonshin bowed his head slightly. The tickling sensation in his chest was unfamiliar. Watching from beside him with a somewhat conflicted expression, Ma Jin nodded.

“That seems to settle things.”

“As for Mount Hua's business...”

“We'll handle it. Though I can't say whether you'll return before we resolve the Purple Radiance Pill affair.”

Just then, Heon Wonchang cautiously raised a hand.

“May I accompany Young Master Jung? I may not be of much help to you or the blue-robed warriors, Captain, but it would be different for him.”

“... Permission granted.”

After a moment's consideration, Ma Jin agreed that he had a point.

“Do not forget that the matter at Zhongnan is now a Radiant Demon Squad mission as well. Investigate the fighting between the Tyrant Sword Tribe and the Zhongnan Sect, and consider how their war will affect the common people's livelihoods. You may intervene in any way you see fit. Above all, try to put your own lives first.”

“We will obey.”

Jung Yeonshin and Heon Wonchang cupped their fists in salute.

Now stronger than before, Jung Yeonshin turned his gaze toward the south-facing window. Mount Zhongnan, home to one of the Central Plains' renowned sword sects. It was where his second brother and young niece were studying martial arts. Was Hye-Ah doing well?

'The destruction of the Jeong Clan Estate. If I seek out Grand Elder Yeo Il-Shin, he'll tell me why, won't he?'

A war between the Thirteen skies and the Nine Great Sects. It was also a chance to discover how far his martial strength would carry him in the wider world.

* * *

Mount Zhongnan lay two days away. Only after spending two nights on the road did the pair change into their Desolate Fortress martial robes. They had held off out of consideration for Mount Hua's reputation.

Heon Wonchang, the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior, was reborn and let out a refreshing laugh. He glanced from one shoulder to the other at the characters for “Desolate” and grinned.

“Now, this is the life.”

“...”

Jung Yeonshin put Chung Myung's blue outer robe on over his white Desolate Fortress uniform. Heon Wonchang was already watching him enviously.

“White robes beneath a blue mantle. It suits you very well.”

“It feels a little strange.”

“I'm sure you'll get used to it quickly.”

“Thank you, Young Master Heon.”

“Hm? That wasn't empty flattery.”

Jung Yeonshin smiled faintly. He was grateful to have him. Only someone with genuine affection would accompany him on business so far removed from their original mission.

Before long, they reached the foot of Mount Zhongnan. From afar, they had admired its majestic, precipitous slopes. At the entrance, however, they felt the stern vigilance peculiar to the home of a martial sect. Martial artists stood guard.

“They seem to be Zhongnan warriors. The rumors of fighting with the Tyrant Sword Tribe must be true. They've come all the way down to the foot of the mountain instead of guarding their own gates,” Heon Wonchang whispered.

As the two approached, two of the four guards stepped forward.

“Would you state your sect, your names, and your business?”

“As you can see, we're from the Desolate Fortress.”

Heon Wonchang answered leisurely, angling his shoulder forward before giving Jung Yeonshin a look. He seemed to be leaving the responsibility to him as the Desolate Fortress's rising talent.

At the mention of the Desolate Fortress, even the warriors at the rear strode closer. Jung Yeonshin spoke.

“I am Jung Yeonshin of the Radiant Demon Squad.”

“And I am Heon Wonchang, also of the Desolate Fortress's Radiant Demon Squad.”

“Hmm...!”

The guards let out low murmurs after looking over their clothes.

Their reaction alone made it clear. Given its position and founding purpose of restraining Murim, the Desolate Fortress was hardly welcome among the martial sects.

“Do you intend to prove your identities with clothing alone?”

One of the Zhongnan disciples spoke, his tone oddly sharp.

For the moment, the two Radiant Demon Squad members took their golden identity plaques from inside their robes. The Desolate Fortress plaques lay revealed in their hands, gilded and engraved with a vivid golden tree design. They were said to have been made by an iron race smith, whose kind were even rarer than the noble race. Anyone who saw the delicate, flowing engraving would believe it.

“The Desolate Fortress is a mighty organization. Young warriors like you, acting on your own authority? Who would ever...”

Someone ushered the sharp-tongued disciple back. The warrior, apparently his senior martial brother, spoke.

“Unfortunately, our sect is at war. Please understand that we cannot simply take strangers' claims about their identities at face value.”

“Why, you people!”

Angered, Heon Wonchang roused his qi. A distinct wave of energy spread out, briefly stirring the air. He had passed the desolate fortress trial without difficulty and fully adjusted to his role as a white-robed Radiant Demon Squad warrior. Contrary to his usually frivolous manner, he had real substance.

“...!”

“They really are from the Desolate Fortress!”

As Heon Wonchang took satisfaction in their reaction, the Zhongnan disciple who had stepped back shouted.

“How dare you behave with such insolence on Mount Zhongnan!”

“What is wrong with these people...!”

Heon Wonchang looked utterly incredulous.

Watching them quietly, Jung Yeonshin felt a sense of déjà vu. He remembered the Jeong Clan Estate. When he had said he was creating and practicing martial arts, the first thing to appear on his young siblings' faces had not been disbelief. It had been surprise and envy. Just like these men.

'The fighting against the Tyrant Sword Tribe must not be going well. Their pride as one of the Nine Great Sects has been wounded, and now a pair of youngsters has shown up, confidently calling themselves Desolate Fortress warriors.'

Heon Wonchang's display of strength had only made things worse. Warriors of the Nine Great Sects were said to be famous for their self-discipline. Whether it was the circumstances combined with youthful hotheadedness or something else, these Zhongnan disciples seemed no different from young martial artists in the secular world.

“I cannot believe it. People as young as you, passing yourselves off as Desolate Fortress warriors. Especially at a time like this.”

The tone grew firmer still. It was stifling. Guarding the gates might be an important responsibility, but the senior figures who led a sect did not stand watch. Those guarding Zhongnan's mountain gates and approaches were all young. They had the vigor of youth, coupled with the lofty pride of disciples of a great, prestigious sect like Zhongnan.

“You...!”

Had he remembered that Yeonshin had family here? Even now, Heon Wonchang glanced at him and swallowed his anger. Yeonshin appreciated it. He was just about to step forward.

“Even if they really are from the Desolate Fortress, that is a problem in itself. How could anyone trust these two enough to send them to our great Zhongnan? It seems the illustrious wisdom of the mighty Desolate Fortress is a thing of the past.”

The scathing remark came from someone who had remained silent until now. The fierce set of his narrow eyes suggested no ordinary temper. He had plainly crossed the line. Jung Yeonshin reached for the sword hilt at his waist.

“Perhaps you should reconsider your words and actions. You've insulted warriors of another organization for no particular reason.”

His voice was calm.

* * *

Jung Joongsan was a young man with rugged features, dressed in cotton Daoist robes. He was the Jeong Clan Estate's second son, and a disciple of the Zhongnan Sect.

Lately, he found himself spending more and more days wondering how he had ended up in this plight. The destruction of the Jeong Clan Estate might have been like a natural disaster, but the human heart did not see it that way. Though no disciple of Buddhism, he found himself thinking of karma.

“Perhaps this calamity befell us because I was such a foolish, worthless older brother.”

He had also begun talking to himself more often. He sat leaning against the roof ridge of Zhongnan's Patrol and Inspection Pavilion.

The view before him was peaceful indeed: wispy clouds making gentle ripples in the blue sky, the Qinling Mountains stretching out in long skirts beneath them, and several stalks of bamboo rising above the fence.

Seated on the pavilion roof, he tapped his foot. The clear clink of the blue stone tiles gave him a small measure of satisfaction. At the same time, an elderly voice thundered from below.

“You rascal! I told you to set out the rice water, and you've forgotten again to sit about at your leisure!”

“Ah!”

He hurriedly jumped down and bowed his head to the man who had shouted. An elderly swordsman with a stern, exacting face sat on the edge of the open hall, watching him disapprovingly.

“My apologies, Elder.”

“You make me sigh. Nothing in this damned sect is what it should be anymore, neither swordsmanship nor disciples.”

Only someone of exceptionally high martial seniority could speak that way. Jung Joongsan bowed even lower. Zhongnan might be fighting the Tyrant Sword Tribe, but he was not a warrior who could count toward a Great Sect's fighting strength. Naturally, he had ended up attending to an elder.

The old man clicked his tongue.

“Our sect is having trouble obtaining supplies. Go down the mountain and procure some grain. I cannot add to the burden on our food stores. We must sweep away those Tyrant Sword scoundrels soon.”

“Yes!”

“Tormenting your innocent granddisciple again today, Elder Jong?”

At the woman's sudden voice, the old man's expression softened a little.

“Ah, Myohwa. You've come.”

“Huh?”

Jung Joongsan's eyes widened at the figure approaching with soft steps. Was she around twenty? Her appearance stood on the threshold between girlhood and womanhood. Her beautiful features and sharply defined eyes were striking. The curious feather ornament tying back her jet-black hair caught his attention first.

The skirts of her loose blue martial robes fluttered in the breeze as she walked. A white treasured sword hung from her jade-adorned belt. She was Wiji Myohwa of the Zhongnan Sect.

She was also called the Sky Sword Dragon, meaning a sword hero above the clouds. This was an age when the epithet “dragon” was bestowed on men. There was a reason Jung Joongsan, who had never seen the Sky Sword Dragon, had referred to her as his eldest martial brother at his farewell at the Jeong Clan Estate.

Wiji Myohwa was different. A woman called a Sword Dragon, she was Zhongnan's strongest rising talent. To Jung Joongsan, she was someone he dared not even meet in the eye.

“Just as well. I needed someone to carry things. Junior Brother Jung...? Come down with me.”

She turned briskly, trailing off over his name as though she could not remember it. When the old man jerked his chin as if to ask why he was still standing there, Jung Joongsan hurried after Wiji Myohwa.

They exchanged not a word until they reached the foot of Mount Zhongnan. Jung Joongsan felt intimidated by his renowned eldest martial sister, though she was younger than him, while Wiji Myohwa seemed simply uninterested.

“Huh...?”

Suddenly, Jung Joongsan let out a bewildered sound. He nearly rubbed his eyes, as though he had seen something impossible.

Wiji Myohwa stopped short, and together they watched his senior martial brothers receiving visitors. The atmosphere was growing increasingly hostile, but that was not what mattered to Jung Joongsan.

“Yeonshin?”

“Hm? Do you know someone there?”

At last, Wiji Myohwa showed interest in him for the first time.

“Urgh!”

What unfolded before his eyes was truly shocking. Before his own younger brother, who was already sheathing his sword though Joongsan had never even seen him draw it, the sword of a senior martial brother he held in awe went flying backward.

Suddenly, a gale erupted beside him. Wiji Myohwa had kicked off the ground and charged.