'What was that?'

He quickly lowered his head again. He could not fathom her look, but thought little of it.

'It isn't as though the Zhongnan experts are going to demonstrate their martial arts here.'

Seeing them in person and sensing their presence was enough. The transcendent air of Mount Zhongnan, the birthplace of Taoism, was indeed different from that of the Jeong Clan Estate's warriors, steeped in worldly grime. Just how profound were the effects of their internal cultivation methods, for him to feel that refreshing clarity on his skin?

"Raise your heads. I have not come to flaunt my seniority."

Yeo Il-Shin's voice still held a trace of laughter. Everyone rose and straightened up. Jung Daemyung, the head of the family, hastily wiped the cold sweat from his brow before speaking.

"You have traveled so far, and I have been most discourteous, leaving Zhongnan's sword immortals standing here. Please allow me to show you inside."

The Zhongnan experts followed the family head. As Yeo Il-Shin passed the household members, she gave Jung Yeonshin another peculiar look.

"I think she looked at me."

"Not you. Me."

The squabbling behind him grated on his ears.

What did it matter whom that illustrious Zhongnan elder looked at, or how? She would hardly take them as disciples.

Jung Yeonshin turned away. Heading straight for the training grounds, he considered his next step.

'The Movement Art has nowhere left to go.'

What should he train in now? Having brought one martial art to Great Completion and encountered the presence of Zhongnan's experts, he felt as though his perspective had changed. His desire for accomplishment was beginning to outweigh his aversion.

'The sword... Shall I start training with the sword now?'

What would it feel like to reach Great Completion in proper swordsmanship?

He headed for the training grounds, dissecting every part of the Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword formula he had seen as a child. His steps were light.

* * *

The household was bustling, but the training grounds, occupied by a lone boy, were utterly quiet. He held his sword at torso level in a middle guard. His breathing was calm.

Deepened by the Movement Art, a single inhalation filled him with a cloudlike fullness. Then came the exhalation, dissolving his stray thoughts like rain sweeping the earth clean.

Jung Yeonshin lost all sense of self. With a single breath, he had poured himself wholly into the sword.

Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword: Qi Blossoms, Plumes Overflow.

The sword moved.

Comprising three sword intents and twenty-one forms, the Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword was solemn and imposing. Though shallow in its understanding, it had adopted Zhongnan's sword arts unchanged, retaining the distinctive character of orthodox Taoist teachings. The original sect's martial art would be upright yet profound. The Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword was merely upright.

Unnatural. It was a worldly swordsman pretending to be a Taoist.

Jung Yeonshin sensed this instinctively, before he could even put it into thought.

What did a swordsman seek after leaving the Taoist gates for the secular world? Wealth and renown. A single stroke to kill anyone who barred his way would suffice.

What did a swordsman without depth need? Speed. His sword would have to be swift.

WHOOSH!

The sword's momentum changed. The blade that had swung with such weight grew light. Qi raced through the acupoints throughout his body, following a new intent. The Movement Art's core energy surged violently, contracting every muscle.

The principles of swift swordsmanship infused his sword art, and a new sword path opened naturally.

SWISH!

Startled by the iron sword tearing through the atmosphere, the night air scattered with a birdlike cry. This strike existed nowhere in the Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword. It was an entirely new sword technique.

"Hah."

He let out a long breath, overwhelmed by a sense of fullness. Jung Yeonshin looked down at his hand on the sword hilt. When he began, he had gripped it firmly with all five fingers, as prescribed by the Jeong Ancestral Divine Sword. Now his thumb and forefinger had relaxed just enough.

So this was how it worked.

"So this is speed."

The boy was elated. He had grasped the principles of swift swordsmanship on his own and created a sword move. This was different from the Movement Art, the internal martial art he had patiently completed as though stitching one stitch at a time. From a single passing thought inspired by the Zhongnan experts, he had fashioned himself a new plaything on the spot.

"This is fun. It really is."

After practicing his newly acquired swift sword technique a few more times, Jung Yeonshin suddenly looked up. The sky was pitch-black, like a spread of ink-dark silk. Clouds must have covered the heavens; neither stars nor moon were visible.

'I'd better sleep now if I'm going to practice the Movement Art at dawn.'

Smiling with satisfaction, he went straight to his bedchamber. His body, honed by the Movement Art, had not shed a single drop of sweat. Feeling no need to wash, the boy went straight to sleep.

* * *

After rising early and finishing his dawn training, Jung Yeonshin headed straight for the breakfast hall. Ordinarily, he had a servant bring his breakfast and ate alone, but today was different. His father would surely dine with the Zhongnan experts, and there was no telling how long they would stay.

'A little shamelessness is nothing.'

Hadn't merely observing their pure, lucid presence given him inspiration? Having tasted a great accomplishment, the boy put on his thickest skin and joined the family breakfast.

He paid no attention to the household members casting startled glances at him. His eyes went to the Zhongnan visitors seated in the places of honor.

"Ahem. Since you're here, sit down," Jung Daemyung said, clearing his throat.

It would have been difficult for him to rebuke his own child in front of such renowned martial artists. That was precisely what Jung Yeonshin had counted on.

The meal began.

Trying not to be obvious, the boy stole glances at Yeo Il-Shin and the other Zhongnan disciples. What training would it take to acquire that unchanging presence they exuded? A person's qi ought to change in character with their emotions, yet their lucid presence seemed to carry the pure essence of Mount Zhongnan itself. He found it wondrous.

Then his eyes met those of Yeo Il-Shin, the noble-race elder. She smiled softly.

"Your son's eyes are remarkably clear. He looks very intelligent indeed."

"Ahem...! My sincerest apologies. My third son still lacks discipline..."

Alarmed, Jung Daemyung leaned back slightly and glared at Jung Yeonshin. The boy lowered his head a little and picked up some vegetables to eat.

Strangely, Yeo Il-Shin's gentle smile weighed on him more than Jung Daemyung's blatant scowl.

Something was different.

'It isn't just clear. It's dense. Is that what they call supreme internal power?'

This was his first time seeing a level at which the core energy condensed within a body naturally expressed itself outside it. The power was invisible, yet unmistakably palpable. He felt as though the limits of his understanding of how strong internal energy could become had just been shattered.

'The Movement Art isn't the end. It can develop further.'

The vegetables stopped on their way to his mouth. He had glimpsed the beginnings of a new martial art.

Come to think of it, all Jung Yeonshin had refined through the Movement Art so far was his own flesh. Foolishly, he had not realized there was a next step. Amid everyone's indifference and quiet hostility, no one had told him.

'The body is a vessel. To have a presence like that, I need to refine my qi.'

What he had done was not wrong. It had allowed him to focus wholly on tempering his body, thoroughly preparing the ground through which his core energy flowed.

Essence first, qi afterward. First polish the vessel, then fill it with water. Now he simply had to pour in the qi.

Jung Yeonshin had just fully grasped a principle at once utterly fundamental and supremely profound. The Movement Art could go further. It would evolve once more, transforming into a new martial art.

'This time, it'll be a true internal art.'

He hummed inwardly. All manner of inspired fragments struck his mind like lightning. Countless ways of drawing in the qi between heaven and earth through controlled breathing intertwined, weaving a framework.

'What should I call the art that comes after the Movement Art?'

For an instant, the boy's eyes shone sky-blue. Only Yeo Il-Shin of Zhongnan witnessed it. A questioning look arose on her otherworldly, beautiful face.

* * *

"This land is better than I expected."

"Indeed. With earth qi this rich, the Tyrant Sword Tribe would certainly covet it."

The speakers were the two Zhongnan disciples who had accompanied their elder to attend her.

The three martial artists, Yeo Il-Shin among them, were drinking tea in the guest chamber provided by the master of the Jeong Clan Estate. The room had been neatly appointed, seemingly with their status as disciples of one of the Nine Great Sects in mind. Together with the delicate fragrance of tea, it offered a certain charm.

"They will certainly come. The plan to counterattack is sound, but... I remain concerned about the losses this family may suffer," Yeo Il-Shin said.

"We are keeping our energy detection active at all times."

"Surely we can intercept and defeat them before they cross the walls?"

Both men, each past thirty, wore confident expressions.

Sensing the fighting spirit radiating from her sect's disciples, Yeo Il-Shin said no more. They were elites of Zhongnan, one of the world's Nine Great Sects. Their confidence could hardly be called reckless bravado.

She changed the subject.

"Do you like the boy who will become your martial nephew?"

"I am not sure."

"Nor am I..."

Their responses were matter-of-fact.

After more than two hundred years of life, one could gauge even a stranger's character and potential from their bearing, words, and conduct. To Yeo Il-Shin's eyes, too, the Jeong family's second son showed nothing particularly extraordinary.

"If anything, the third son's eyes were steadfast."

"I thought the same."

"Even at a glance, I could see his potential was far from ordinary. He may one day win renown as the sword representing this family. A formally registered disciple of our sect cannot inherit the family enterprise. Perhaps that is why the family head deliberately chose to send his second son."

Though Yeo Il-Shin was speculating, her tone verged on certainty. Surprise appeared on both disciples' faces.

"He is that remarkable?"

"Goodness. Then surely we ought to bring the third son to the sect instead..."

"That would violate our rules. Our sect has already chosen its formally registered disciple. Even if we reversed our decision now, the family head would not agree. Nor should the great Zhongnan Sect conduct its affairs so lightly."

At the grand elder's quiet rebuke, the disciples bowed their heads.

Leaving them to reflect on their careless words and conduct, Yeo Il-Shin tapped the table with her long fingers.

'He is certainly a peculiar child.'

She had sensed a strange disposition in him all along.

It was not the sort of gift her noble race described as being "beloved by nature." Had it been, things visible to Yeo Il-Shin alone would have surrounded the boy. This was something of an entirely different order.

'He alone seemed especially distinct between heaven and earth.'

Supreme masters of the internal arts like her communed with heaven. The core energy that had pierced the Baihui point at her crown was wondrous indeed. Through the upper dantian, it sometimes bestowed abilities akin to foresight.

For Yeo Il-Shin to sense something so different about him? The child was certainly extraordinary in some way. But this was not the time to dwell on it.

"The Tyrant Sword Tribe is a formidable enemy. Do not let your guard down. Hone your sword qi."

* * *

After breakfast, Jung Yeonshin received a visit from the Chief Steward. He could guess the reason. The man was looking at him with an awkward expression on his otherwise dignified face.

"Chief Steward."

"Third Young Master."

"I don't know what I've done wrong. I've been thinking that more and more lately."

"Third Young Master."

"My mother's strength gave out when I was born? Is that reason enough to forbid me from even showing my face before the family's honored guests?"

"... It is the master's wish."

At the Chief Steward's reply, Jung Yeonshin saw the strain on his face and fell silent. The Chief Steward was a good man. Whatever his own wishes, he was the hands and feet that managed every household matter, great or small, according to Jung Daemyung's will as master of the estate and head of the family.

At times like this, he found himself longing for his mother's family, whom he had never even met. But the Jeong Clan Estate would not let him go to them. His maternal family had ties to an immensely powerful force. Though they had never sought out their grandson after his mother's death, the household members who mistreated Jung Yeonshin were always wary and uneasy about them.

"I'm sorry," the boy said.

A fleeting look of pity crossed the Chief Steward's face.

"... I understand that your training grounds are short of training materials, Young Master. I will have them replenished."

"Thank you. I'll look forward to it."

Jung Yeonshin turned away, reproaching himself. Gaining new insights every time he saw the Zhongnan experts had made him betray a childish impatience. It was unlike him.

'Let's just put together an internal art.'

He calmed himself, breathing according to the Movement Art's formula.