They said a master's intuition sometimes transcended understanding. This was different.
Many wore expressions of utter incomprehension despite seeing it with their own eyes. Even Zhongnan's masters were no exception.
A boy swordsman stood holding a Tyrant Sword Tribe elder's head. None of them could have imagined such a sight.
“The Vicious Rakshasa Swordsman...? Is that truly the old master?”
“How, how could this happen? At the hands of a child like that?”
“The Rakshasa Swordsman is dead? That alone is hard enough to believe...”
The sight defied all common sense, robbing the warriors of their will to fight.
Even the Tyrant Sword Tribe was no exception. It was something supernatural.
That was the situation Jung Yeonshin had created—something beyond human comprehension.
Just then, Heon Wonchang sprang to his feet. A wave of qi surged from him, shaking even the dust from his clothes as though he had never been knocked down.
With his hero's headband fluttering about his forehead, he squared his shoulders as if to show off his tall frame and handsome features, then shouted.
“Zhongnan's honored guest! Jung Yeonshin, the Desolate Fortress's Lightning Genius!”
He had even imbued his voice with core energy.
His internal power was stronger than Jung Yeonshin had thought. Laden with that power, his voice echoed in every direction, displaying astonishing attainment.
“Has beheaded an elder of the Tyrant Sword Tribe!”
An immense roar erupted from him. It was a wonder where he had been hiding all that internal energy.
An extraordinary feat had just been accomplished. By clearly declaring Yeonshin's identity here and now, Heon Wonchang made certain he received credit.
It was quick thinking worthy of the Desolate Fortress's Divine Hero.
“Young Master Jung truly...!”
“The Vicious Rakshasa Swordsman is dead!”
“Woooo!”
Zhongnan's young masters were swept up in emotion. Reverence and joy shone on many faces.
Some even let out cheers louder than ever before.
“That boy!”
“He has finally done it!”
Yeo Il-Shin's and the Zhongnan Sword Immortal's sword strikes began to take devastating effect. They unleashed their momentum, pressing their bewildered enemies without respite.
The Lightning Genius of the Desolate Fortress's Radiant Demon Squad. The turning tide this one boy had brought about surged as fiercely as a waterfall.
The Tyrant Sword Tribe was driven back helplessly. Blows from which recovery would be difficult struck them on every side.
Amid it all, Jung Yeonshin stared at the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord. Their eyes met.
Even as he parried the Zhongnan Sect Leader's sword, the lord looked at the boy anew, as if to etch him into his memory.
'Just wait.'
This was a man so powerful that even looking up at him was difficult. For now, merely being subjected to his gaze seemed to shake Yeonshin's very soul.
Time was certainly Jung Yeonshin's enemy. Yet it was also a friend that would grant him boundless strength.
'Four years should be enough for you, too.'
The mighty Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord would not die here. Jung Yeonshin turned away.
* * *
In the end, the Tyrant Sword Tribe retreated in defeat. It was an overwhelming victory for Zhongnan.
Battles between the Thirteen skies and the Nine Great Sects were anything but common.
The mere fact that two such powers had clashed and reached a clear outcome was momentous. Word had it that the Central Plains was reacting.
Rumors spread wildly from Xi'an.
At their forefront was the Zhongnan Sword Immortal, whose display of might had been enough to astonish the world. He had severed the Tyrant Sword Tribe Elder Council Leader's arm and slain five elders.
The fame of Sword Dragon wiji myohwa, who had led the disciples against the enemy's seasoned masters, rose once again.
And word of the Desolate Fortress's young master spread from person to person.
A swordsman of fifteen or sixteen had slain a Tyrant Sword Tribe elder. Anyone would find it hard to believe.
Those who claimed even a little knowledge of Murim reportedly scoffed at it, slowing the rumor's spread.
Still, one thing was certain: the epithet Lightning Genius had begun making its way into the wider world.
“It is enough that the masters of the Nine Great Sects know! Let ignorant fools prattle all they like!”
THUD!
Heon Wonchang slammed his fist onto the table.
He had returned from a drink at an inn below the mountain and was venting his indignation. Apparently, he had heard people in the marketplace dismissing the young master of the Desolate Fortress.
He said he had nearly broken those ignorant fools' noses.
Jung Yeonshin paid it little mind. Matters of no practical use held little interest for him.
Standing at the edge of his life, his eyes were fixed solely on the Fruit of the World Tree.
“Does fame help with missions?”
“Of course it does! It certainly helps! You can get an extra cup of wine at an inn, at the very least!”
Heon Wonchang finally managed to bring a smile to Jung Yeonshin's lips.
They enjoyed the days following their victory. Even the familiar paths they walked seemed to offer a fresh scent of earth.
The war between the great sects had reached a conclusion, and they had even slain masters of the Tyrant Sword Tribe.
They had more than fulfilled their duties as warriors of the Radiant Demon Squad.
Zhongnan's masters treated not only Jung Yeonshin but Heon Wonchang as well with warmth. It would have been difficult to imagine happier days.
“More importantly, you should think of groups like the Beggars' Sect and the Hao Faction. You cannot do without the information they provide when traveling the martial world. I don't know whether you've ever received help from the Beggars' Sect, Young Master Jung, but they will treat you differently now.”
wiji myohwa spoke as she shared tea with them.
Her faint smile was lovelier than the spring flowers beginning to bloom around them.
“It is embarrassing to say so myself, but people say the Nine Great Sects occupy a realm above the clouds, even within the martial world. Naturally, it is very difficult for ordinary people to hear news of them. Unless something as momentous as this happens.”
“I see.”
Jung Yeonshin answered with a sip of golden Jingwei Fu Tea.
Watching him, wiji myohwa smiled with her eyes.
“So people often reject accurate accounts and believe strange tales instead. But the Beggars' Sect is different. There is a reason people group them together as the Nine Great Sects and One Gang. They will know exactly what happened. I saw several beggars trained in lightness skill outside the battlefield.”
Beggars who had learned martial arts? They must have been members of the Beggars' Sect, whom he had only heard about.
Heon Wonchang nodded in satisfaction.
“This will not be our only journey through the martial world anyway. That is satisfying enough.”
“It is Young Master Jung's achievement, yet you are the one satisfied, Young Master Heon. The camaraderie of the Desolate Fortress is different from what I have heard. Then which of you is the senior martial brother?”
“Senior martial brother?”
Heon Wonchang's eyes widened as though he had never heard the term before.
Jung Yeonshin was intrigued as well.
“I learned the radiant demon arts first.”
“Now, hold on! Did we not receive the captain's instruction at the same time? Greater attainment makes you the senior martial brother? The Desolate Fortress is not some unorthodox sect without proper traditions!”
“We don't even have master-disciple relationships. Surely that much is acceptable.”
“Must you really do this?”
Time passed in pleasant conversation, free of worry for once.
Their great battle had ended in complete victory with few casualties for Zhongnan, leaving everyone in a warm mood.
The sun set as wiji myohwa occasionally looked at Yeonshin with a lovely smile, as though regarding a younger brother.
The next day, Jung Yeonshin was bestowed the Zhongnan Sect Leader's floating cloud token.
He was told that presenting it at any lay sect under Zhongnan would earn him the highest honors.
The Jeong Clan Estate had also been a branch of Zhongnan. In places like that, he could be treated as a benefactor without ever having done anything for them.
“Furthermore, should you need our sect's swords, do not hesitate to ask. Even if it concerns the Desolate Fortress's political affairs, we will help you once.”
The Western Heaven Sword Supreme, ouyang shin, spoke. A faint warmth touched his otherwise expressionless face.
According to the Zhongnan Sword Immortal, they had absorbed a considerable portion of the Tyrant Sword Tribe's territory.
When the unorthodox factions withdrew and an orthodox sect began protecting the people's livelihoods, donations flowed in without coercion. From a sect leader's perspective, Jung Yeonshin's contribution had been immense.
“I gratefully accept.”
He made no attempt to decline. The day would come when he needed it, whether on a mission or when challenging for the position of Divine Sword Squad Leader.
Tucking the cloud-engraved wooden token into his robe, Jung Yeonshin spoke.
“Then I believe it is time I heard the truth.”
“Mm. You have every right to hear it.”
Seated beside ouyang shin, Yeo Il-Shin nodded.
At last, the hidden story behind the Jeong Clan Estate's destruction emerged.
“It all began with the world tree.”
“Did you say the world tree?”
“The divine tree that sustains the world. All the principles of creation are firmly established through that wondrous tree. It necessarily consumes a great deal of the earth's energy, and the Jeong Clan Estate's lands were extraordinarily fertile. You were great landowners in Xinye County, were you not? Fertile enough that the divine tree's roots folded the distance to reach them.”
“...”
“All substances universally recognized as spirit medicine are much the same. They are created through wondrous processes, according to the principles governing all life under heaven. That is a different matter from martial arts or sorcery.”
“Then the reason the Jeong Clan Estate was destroyed...?”
“There is a saying that the Desolate fortress master's formidable martial power... is maintained by eating the world tree's fruit. The Tyrant Sword Tribe and the Blood Flame Cult are wholly hostile to the Desolate Fortress. It seems that was more than enough reason for them to wipe out one weak martial family. I hear Xinye County has now been reduced to wasteland at their hands.”
Jung Yeonshin was speechless for a moment. Yeo Il-Shin sighed, her expression suggesting she wished she could comfort him, then continued.
“We happened to be nearby when we received a letter from the Desolate fortress master. She asked us to protect the Jeong Clan Estate. In the end, we failed...”
“...”
“I can only feel deeply sorry toward you, Joongsan, and Hye-Ah.”
* * *
Didn't the living have to go on living?
He decided he would eat the Fruit of the World Tree first. He set aside the tangled circumstances and the irony of it all.
None of that would help him survive.
It would not be too late to question the Desolate fortress master after becoming Divine Sword Squad Leader. She was said to live forever, after all.
The sky was clear. A cloudless blue stretched over the entire world.
Jung Yeonshin and Heon Wonchang packed their bags and stood at the foot of Mount Zhongnan.
Many had gathered to see them off. The goodwill they had earned at Zhongnan was considerable.
“Come when you're older. Once you become a master, you'll be able to visit the Desolate Fortress.”
He gently reasoned with his niece, who clung to him in tears.
When he looked at his second elder brother, Jung Joongsan was watching him with an indescribable expression. Regret and pride filled his face. Jung Yeonshin merely gave him a slight nod.
They were not yet close enough to treat each other without reserve.
Standing before him, wiji myohwa parted her red lips.
“Would it be all right if I visited next time?”
“If I'm not on a mission, I'll be the one asking to learn from the Sword Dragon's martial arts.”
Her lips curved into a graceful smile. The Zhongnan Sword Immortal laughed heartily.
“The Yangtze's newer waves have formed a friendship. A fine sight indeed. It is a true delight to an old man who ought to be thinking of washing his hands in a golden basin.”
Washing one's hands in a golden basin meant settling one's debts and grievances and retiring from the martial world. Jung Yeonshin shook his head.
“You look as though you'll live another hundred years.”
Laughter broke out all around. By now, they were entirely like grandfather and grandson.
The Zhongnan Sword Immortal smiled kindly.
“Yeonshin. I hope you achieve your wish.”
His words carried several meanings. Jung Yeonshin calmly offered a martial salute, then mounted the fine horse Zhongnan had given him.
As always, Heon Wonchang was at his side, their horses facing the same way.
He did not look back as they left. After half a day's ride, they reached a village.
Sunset spread across the sky, as though the sunlight were glancing back in reluctance to leave.
Silk woven of vermilion light softly tinted Jung Yeonshin's vision.
They left their horses in another's care and entered an inn. It was a boisterous place.
“Quite a few wandering warriors here.”
Heon Wonchang murmured as they sat together near the entrance.
The place was so crowded that they had to share a table with some middle-aged patrons. They exchanged silent bows of greeting.
The waiter who took their order looked unhappy. It seemed to be because of the sword-bearing people making a racket all around them.
Among them were men and women in silk martial robes who looked to be the children of martial families.
It was unusual for so many warriors to gather in a small village. Something seemed to be happening, but there was no need to ask. The wandering warriors, fond of boasting of their prowess and discussing rumors, talked freely enough.
“... Mount Hua secretly received help from the Desolate Fortress. The Nine Great Sects and the Desolate Fortress are setting suns now, that's what I'm saying. Only Zhongnan, which supposedly beat the Tyrant Sword Tribe, can still throw its weight around in Shaanxi!”
“I tell you this because you are new to the martial world: Murim is a place where keeping your mouth shut lets you live longer.”
The speaker was a young gentleman who appeared to come from a martial family. His attire set him apart enough to warrant an overbearing attitude, yet he was quite courteous.
Two sword-bearing women seated with him, apparently his companions, nodded with faint smiles.
The wandering warrior who had been blustering at the table opposite frowned.
“I told you, I'm no novice! Am I wrong? Otherwise, how could they fail to catch one Phantom Thief? I hear the azure-eyed demonic swordsman, the Radiant Demon Squad's pride and joy, lost an eye! A blue-robed master of the Desolate Fortress? Turns out it was all an empty reputation!”
He was looking around for agreement when it happened.
THUNK!
The speed was tremendous. A chopstick tore soundlessly through the air and drove deep into the table.
The force carried within it was so powerful that its exposed end quivered, and cracks spread through the tabletop from the point it had pierced.
Every eye turned toward the entrance. A boy in a long blue outer robe was calmly watching the wandering warrior.
“That story.”
A sky-blue gleam flashed through Jung Yeonshin's eyes.
“Tell me more.”
His words were quiet, but carried the core energy of the Movement Art. No one present could have failed to hear them.
The inn, which had been filled with the clamor of armed patrons, fell silent in an instant.
Heon Wonchang casually reached over and turned the fabric at Jung Yeonshin's shoulder slightly forward.
The character for “Desolate,” embroidered in white thread on the blue robe, came into view.
