“What a ridiculous brat. You dare say that to my face?”

The Phantom Thief's lips curled upward.

Jung Yeonshin paid him no mind and kept walking. He did not stop advancing.

He had heard of the Phantom Thief. The man was said to be a master of grappling techniques. His epithet did not mean he fought like a man possessed. He was called the Phantom Thief because he stole like a ghost.

“Do you know what my epithet means?” the Phantom Thief asked with a smile.

He likes to hear himself talk, Yeonshin thought.

Yeonshin gave no answer as the distance closed, but the Phantom Thief kept talking.

“They call me the Phantom Thief because I take anything I please. I took that witless eye of your senior martial brother's, too.”

“Senior martial brother?”

The man laughed loudly at his question.

“No, I suppose he isn't. The Desolate Fortress is a rootless gang, after all. You cannot even call your master your master. The captain of the Radiant Demon Squad who taught you must be no different. That dullard will be wandering through the hills and fields for nothing.”

“What are you after? Didn't you take the Purple Radiance Pill?”

Yeonshin paused to ask. They were close now.

Perhaps five steps apart. He could even see the calluses on the Phantom Thief's hand as it repeatedly opened and closed. One leap would leave him more than enough strength to cleave the man's body apart.

“The head of the man you cannot call your senior martial brother. The azure-eyed demonic swordsman.”

Waves of qi spilled from the end of his empty left sleeve. Yeonshin could not understand his reasoning.

“You would risk Mount Hua's Sword Saint and our captain returning early?”

“You know nothing of what a hand means to a martial artist. Enough. I indulged you because I heard you showed some promise, but you're no different from the other fools.”

This time, the Phantom Thief stepped forward.

He seemed to be declaring that he would let no one else claim Chung Myung's head inside the inn.

The power rolling off him was far from ordinary. He would be able to exchange at least a few moves with a blue-robed master.

HUM!

Yeonshin focused his mind on the Movement Art he had already set in motion.

The formula of the Radiant Sword Art unfolded in his mind. At the same time, core energy budded in his grasp like a blossoming sun.

There was no need to wait. He immediately slashed upward with the Desolate Sword. A faint streak of light rose in the blade's wake.

SWISH!

The strike missed. It was the first time since he had created his swordsmanship.

True to his epithet, the Phantom Thief's movement technique was positively ghostly. He twisted aside and surged forward with astonishing speed. The hand that followed bent like a snake, sinister waves of qi streaming from it.

It looked ready to coil around Yeonshin's sword hand.

'A grappling technique. Remarkably refined.'

He took in the Phantom Thief's technique.

Grappling techniques infused with internal energy had a long history. They were said to have originated with a general of a long-fallen kingdom.

A means of displaying martial prowess in the barracks had passed to constables, then the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and finally Murim.

Every refinement was devoted to restraining an opponent's arm and leaving them defenseless. Even now, with the advancement of core-energy circulation methods, that underlying principle remained unchanged.

THUD!

Yeonshin twisted, ducked, and drove his body forward.

It was a body check, a move that used the torso to strike, common even in back alleys.

A brief whirlwind swept around his entire body. The force waves of Vortex, carried in his movements, shattered any opening for his opponent to get behind him.

It was Vortex of the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike, blended with Chung Myung's teachings. The Phantom Thief retreated a long way, his eyes narrowing.

“A movement technique of the noble race? No. Those are martial arts the Han people cannot imitate in the first place. Only the form is the same. This is something new.”

“You talk too much.”

“I looked into you,” the Phantom Thief continued without pause.

“The Blood Flame Cult is a fearsome power. It responds appropriately to any budding threat that might grow into a formidable enemy. It sends assassins, of course, but it also delves into the past. They dug up every last detail. Even that you came from the destroyed Jeong Clan Estate in Xinye County, Henan. The Hao Faction suffered for it and coughed up the information.”

“...”

“Child of the Jeong Clan Estate. I hear you buried your household in the mountain behind it. What do you suppose has become of that place by now? You have made quite an enemy of the Blood Flame Cult.”

“What?”

“You took the head of a cult swordsman? Did you think they would leave your home alone? They dug up the mountain. And then they burned it all.”

Yeonshin adjusted his grip on the sword hilt. He remembered the servant who had called him to breakfast every morning.

His father, who had acknowledged his son at the very end of his life, came to mind as well. The household that had shunned him returned in a surge of love and hate.

“You. Your hair is black, and you don't look like a cultist. Are you an Apostle?”

“You think every martial artist in the Blood Flame Cult practices Blood Arts. This really is your first journey into the martial world.”

“Fine.”

What did it matter which martial arts a dead man had learned? Yeonshin muttered.

He raised his power once more. Core energy filled his eight extraordinary meridians and circulated through them.

With the Classic of Initiating Transcendence operating on the principle of layering, the intensity of his qi waves began to surge.

The senses of martial artists facing a fight to the death went beyond ordinary bounds.

They were said to feel their opponent's mind more intimately than a lover's. The Phantom Thief's lips twisted upward.

“A brat like you intends to kill me? I'll bury you with the azure-eyed demonic swordsman's one remaining eyeball.”

The instant the man mentioned Chung Myung's eye, Yeonshin's thoughts entered a different realm.

'When do the people of Murim, the people of the martial world, despair?'

The first occasion would be when their master, their martial siblings, or they themselves faced death.

The second would likely be when their bodies could no longer practice martial arts.

Then what came next? What could shock these martial-arts-obsessed people as profoundly as those first two things?

Severing limbs was not enough. Revenge. An emotion second only to his desire to survive.

“Hup!”

The Phantom Thief exhaled sharply. At the same moment, his elusive movement technique unfolded again.

The hand said to steal anything under heaven unleashed the exquisite principles of his grappling technique.

Yeonshin took a step and moved his right hand on the sword hilt.

Like lightning winking out, the Desolate Sword vanished into its sheath. He faced his enemy completely barehanded.

He extended his right hand. It was a grappling technique that looked identical to his opponent's.

The Phantom Thief snorted as though he took it for arrogance, but then his face was obscured.

The shadow of Yeonshin's hand had formed a strange afterimage.

It was a small movement. A single gesture deflected the Phantom Thief's grappling technique.

“...!”

Its trajectory clearly belonged to the realm of advanced martial arts. The combat path itself was on another level.

Moving later, arriving first. Yeonshin's slower hand seized the enemy's wrist before the other could reach him.

At the same time, the monstrous strength of the Movement Art came into play. It had been a long time indeed.

His crushing grip alone completely immobilized his opponent. There was no need even for pressure-point sealing.

“You, how could you!”

Cold sweat beaded on the Phantom Thief's face.

He seemed unable even to think of kicking. It was hard to believe he had ever been so composed.

“This seemed like a better way to do it. Your technique wasn't all that refined.”

Yeonshin spoke indifferently.

The Phantom Thief's expression verged on outright panic. It seemed tinged with terror, too.

He had just watched his exclusive martial art stolen in an instant and brought into bloom in his enemy's hand.

“Shall I teach you the formula?”

At the quiet question, the Phantom Thief's head twitched. This time, Yeonshin smiled.

As if he would ever tell him. The man seemed to realize it soon enough, his expression gradually changing from yearning to despair.

Yeonshin had stolen his life and shattered it.

'So this is it.'

He had discovered his own way to cast martial artists of the evil and unorthodox paths into the abyss.

The martial arts of those who walked this world were also called “accumulated achievement.” They were the very lives their practitioners had painstakingly built over long years.

All he needed to do was negate that.

He simply had to perform their martial arts in a better form, right before their eyes as they exchanged blows.

The Phantom Thief's wrist crumbled in his right hand.

SHING.

Listening to the man's screams, Yeonshin drew the Desolate Sword upward from his waist in a reverse grip with his left hand.

* * *

He went upstairs into the inn carrying the Phantom Thief's head.

Blood Flame Cult masters had attacked the inn alongside the thief, but they had already been dealt with.

Ma Jin had returned and routed them with the Mount Hua masters. Every member of the Radiant Demon Squad except Yeonshin had also joined the fight. Afterward, Ma Jin had apparently perched on the windowsill to watch Yeonshin's battle.

“You...”

The scar crossing Ma Jin's face kept twitching.

He opened his mouth several times as though he had seen something he should not have, then sighed.

Yeonshin paid no attention to the complicated emotions on his uncle's face.

“I've earned a great deal of merit. Please make sure it's properly recorded.”

He held out the Phantom Thief's head as he spoke. In his other hand was a wooden case he had taken from the man's clothes.

Inside the little box lay spirit medicine possessing an energy unlike anything he had seen.

The Purple Radiance Pill. If merits were graded, this would rank among the highest.

Ma Jin even looked somewhat dazed as he spoke.

“... You won't be far from the blue robes now. You'll be able to request a promotion examination soon. It will be the fastest ever. The youngest, too, of course.”

“A promotion examination... I've heard of it. I'd like you to explain it in detail another time. There seems to be something more urgent now.”

“Yes. Mount Hua has suffered a blow.”

He followed Ma Jin to another guest room. The inn was nearly half demolished.

Yet the proprietor actually looked pleased. Apparently, he had been promised compensation in the names of the Desolate Fortress and Mount Hua.

“Hmm.”

Yeonshin let out a low murmur. The boy lying as still as death on the bed looked familiar.

Yoo Hyun, the Mount Hua sect leader's direct successor-disciple.

He was the spirited young man who had promised to visit the Desolate Fortress after crossing hands with Yeonshin.

“He drew on every last bit of his core energy. To protect his senior martial brother.”

Standing beside the bed, Sage Cheon Joo glanced at Yeonshin as he spoke.

The sharp features of the man known as Mount Hua's Sword Saint had crumpled.

Yeonshin understood why. The energy core was not a porcelain bowl.

It was an organ that held a trace of energy from birth. They said it would suffer damage if completely emptied.

Some called that minimum reserve “innate core energy.”

He remembered hearing that, since it was no different in nature from internal energy, it could be drawn out and replenished.

Yeonshin spoke cautiously.

“If his core energy is depleted, can't you simply replenish it? I understand it's fairly common.”

“You're right. The disciples who showed the same symptoms are already back on their feet.”

“Then Yoo Hyun's internal energy...”

“We cannot help Hyun. As the sect leader's disciple, he learned the violet dawn sacred art. Not all Mount Hua martial arts are the same. The internal-energy cultivation is entirely different.”

Cheon Joo spoke gravely. His expression did not change even at the sight of the Purple Radiance Pill in Yeonshin's hand.

They needed a master who could release its energy and pass it on to the unconscious Yoo Hyun.

“You have indeed done us a great kindness by recovering it. The energy of the Purple Radiance Pill could substitute for the violet dawn sacred art. But releasing the energy of a spirit pill requires delicate work. The half a traditional hour Hyun has left is nowhere near enough...”

Cheon Joo broke off. Beside him, Ma Jin's lips were moving.

He seemed to be using sound transmission. Cheon Joo's eyes widened as he looked at Yeonshin.

“Did you get permission for me to do it?”

Ma Jin nodded at his question.

“Yes. Swallow it now. This, too, will count toward your merit.”

Yeonshin did not ask what he had said. He could already guess. It went back to his victory in the sparring match against the heavenly squad warrior.

He had absorbed the Desolate Fortress's standard-issue spirit pill at astonishing speed.

He had finished before Ma Jin could even place a hand on the Gate of Life pressure point at the center of his lower back to help him.

The captain of the Radiant Demon Squad was said to be a worthy rival to Mount Hua's Sword Saint. Did they share the trust of close friends?

Cheon Joo, who had agreed at once, seemed to possess remarkable boldness himself.

“Then I'll begin.”

He turned Yoo Hyun onto his stomach. After arranging the boy's hands neatly, he sat cross-legged beside him.

With Cheon Joo's tacit approval, Yeonshin took out the snow-white spirit pill and swallowed it.

The Purple Radiance Pill slid into his body with a fragrant scent.

'Do spirit medicines that dissolve as soon as you swallow them even exist?'

The stray thought lasted only a moment. He set his core energy in motion from the Stone Gate pressure point, where the lower dantian lay.

As the greater circulation carried it through the pressure points of his upper body, the Purple Radiance Pill crumbled, and a corresponding amount of energy began to rise.

The moment he increased the power, he understood. The Purple Radiance Pill was spirit medicine specialized for a particular method of circulating core energy.

He had heard that the art of making spirit pills grew with history, just as martial arts did.

One year came to mind. That was how long someone who had not studied Mount Hua's internal-energy cultivation would need to settle the pill's core energy into their body.

Extracting its energy and refining it into core energy were separate matters. The finer the spirit medicine, the greater that gap was said to be.

'Without a year of closed-door training... this would be no different from someone else's core energy driven into me with a puncturing technique.'

That seemed to explain why the Blood Flame Cult members and the Phantom Thief had not consumed it immediately.

'I'd be better off spending that time practicing my own martial arts. Still, I can make use of it while sending the energy to Yoo Hyun.'

It was a rare opportunity.

It seemed the time had come to fully open his middle dantian, which had only barely begun to open. He recalled Baek Miryeo's words.

He needed to hold an immense amount of energy within his body. The Purple Radiance Pill would provide more than enough.