Jung Yeonshin drank slowly. As he circulated his Movement Art while drinking the Lightning Immortal Treasure Liquor, something strange happened.

New core energy began filling his middle dantian, little by little. He examined his body. There was no change whatsoever in the Baihui point at the crown of his head.

‘This is why.’

He had to keep vain hopes at bay. That was why he would not let himself take comfort in the Desolate Fortress Master’s kindness.

He had not expected much, but he felt a little strength drain from his body. At times like this, even the middle dantian’s abilities were of little use. Something good had happened, yet his spirits sank.

The Desolate Fortress Master came into view, wearing an enigmatic smile. For the first time, he found her irritating.

Jung Yeonshin looked around and clasped his hands in salute.

“Thank you, honored heroes, for witnessing my coming-of-age ceremony.”

There was something picturesque about the humble courtesy of the boy who had just displayed such boldness. One by one, approving smiles appeared on the guests’ faces, and they offered their comments.

“So he is of Desolate’s Ma Clan blood.”

“Indeed, the spirit of an illustrious clan does not forsake its descendants.”

“He means to stand alone rather than rely on his clan? Isn’t that the bearing of a Grandmaster?”

“He’ll establish a school of his own one day.”

Jung Yeonshin saluted once more and descended from the dais. Passing his maternal grandfather, Ma Yeonjeok, whose eyes were twitching, he stopped before Ma Se-In.

The boy was down on one knee, so Yeonshin had to look down at him.

Ma Se-In’s face was steeped in emptiness. His thick eyebrows drooped over a dazed expression.

Jung Yeonshin thought he could understand a little of what he felt. Having been the first to set aside his pride, Ma Se-In must have acknowledged him completely.

‘Otherwise, he could never have brought up the succession.’

It had been a decision that would determine the course of Ma Se-In’s entire life, yet Jung Yeonshin had brushed it aside with a cup of liquor.

Drinking the Lightning Immortal Treasure Liquor he had earned himself, he had spoken of Murim. Walking the martial world alone.

He meant that he was content to be a warrior of the Desolate Fortress, roaming the world on his own. Anyone would have felt deflated.

Jung Yeonshin spoke.

“I think you’ll make a good clan head.”

“What...?”

He walked past Ma Se-In, who flinched and raised his head. Today had made one thing clear.

His maternal grandfather, Ma Yeonjeok, fell short of the Zhongnan Sword Immortal. He had distanced himself from the adopted grandson he had chosen as heir and set his sights on Jung Yeonshin instead.

Had he been able to see through the state of Yeonshin’s upper dantian, he would have behaved differently.

‘The Sword Immortal seemed to have noticed my constitution.’

Dealing with his troublesome maternal family brought the Zhongnan Sword Immortal and Wiji Myohwa to mind. Those peaceful days of training.

Spending the rest of his life on a famed mountain filled with immortal serenity, like Mount Zhongnan, did not seem so bad.

‘May the rest of that life be at least thirty years.’

Praying to the Buddha and the Primordial Heavenly Lord, he left the banquet hall. Ma Jin had somehow come out ahead of him and was waiting.

After making sure no one was nearby, Jung Yeonshin asked outright, “Captain, have you never married?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you the eldest son of the Ma clan’s direct line? You must still be in your prime, yet they’re making such a fuss over the succession. I can’t think of any reason that makes sense.”

“...”

The scar crossing Ma Jin’s face twisted this way and that. For some reason, he seemed to be struggling.

Just then, Chung Myung leaned into view beside Jung Yeonshin and smiled. He, too, had watched Yeonshin’s coming-of-age ceremony.

“Shouldn’t Lightning Genius know? I’ll tell him.”

“... Go ahead.”

Chung Myung waited until Ma Jin had turned away and gone quite some distance.

Jung Yeonshin gave each of them a puzzled look, then put both his questions and his eyelids to rest. He could not afford to waste even a moment. He was examining his middle dantian when Chung Myung spoke.

“When the captain was still a white robe, he returned from a mission holding Miryeo’s hand.”

“You mean Senior Baek Miryeo?”

He opened his eyes. Chung Myung smiled at him casually.

“Yes. She was a little thing back then. About this tall, I think?”

Patting his waist, Chung Myung continued.

“He said he’d brought her from a sect whose teachings were passed down in secret. Said she would become a major asset to the Desolate Fortress. But that wasn’t the issue. The mission was in Xinjiang, a battleground crawling with remnants of the destroyed Demonic Cult.”

“The Demonic Cult?”

Jung Yeonshin echoed the words without thinking. As he understood it, the cult had perished together with the Kunlun Sect, once considered one of the foremost of the Nine Great Sects.

It had helped found the Ming, only to become a religion that deluded the masses.

He had often heard of the ancient heretical cult. Supreme figures of the evil and unorthodox paths known as Heavenly Demons had frequently emerged from it to run rampant.

“Yes. A dangerous place for a white robe in any number of ways. The captain volunteered because he wanted promotion to blue robe. He completed the mission, but while fighting an internal martial arts master from Xinjiang...”

Chung Myung trailed off. Even the smile that always hung on his lips faded. Seeing Jung Yeonshin’s expression urging him to continue, he sighed and spoke again.

“He was hit with a puncturing technique. In a vital spot. He’d aimed a kick at the man’s face, but the bastard dodged and closed in.”

“What?”

“He said the bastard was vicious. Several of the seniors on that mission went on to become captains too. Even the Azure Heaven Squad Captain, who doesn’t get along with him, never brings it up.”

“...”

“Captain Ma hasn’t been able to function as a man since. That’s why fierce Miryeo regards him as her benefactor. How could she not?”

“I understand.”

He had heard that masters frequently used movement techniques to launch themselves into the air in combat. Anyone who learned the Radiant Demon Arts was bound to use kicks, and raising a leg to kick meant exposing the vital spot between one’s legs.

Murim was a harsh place. Crippling injuries were far from rare.

An image of an inexperienced, white-robed Ma Jin formed in his mind. Jung Yeonshin slowly spoke.

“The Kunlun Sect’s Eight Great Cloud Dragon Forms. Shaolin’s Buddha’s Radiance Riding the Qi Current.”

“Hmm?”

“I understand they’re movement techniques that let you maneuver in midair. I’d like to see them.”

Chung Myung smiled.

“As it happens, our next mission will probably be in Henan. We’ll be working with Shaolin, so if heaven favors you, you might get to see it. Buddha’s Radiance Riding the Qi Current, I mean.”

* * *

He was given a month’s rest after his coming-of-age ceremony. It was meaningless. Jung Yeonshin wanted to keep taking missions without pause.

“It wouldn’t hurt to establish ourselves in Henan ahead of time.”

Ma Jin sat at the head of his office. He received Jung Yeonshin’s unchanged gaze with a peculiar awkwardness. Unconcerned, Yeonshin asked, “What exactly is the mission?”

“Annihilation. On this mission, we’ll cut off one of the Blood Flame Cult’s arms. With luck, we’ll discover where their headquarters is.”

He took a sip of tea and continued.

“While you were catching the Phantom Thief, I fought an Apostle. His hair had turned entirely black. Not a single crimson strand remained. A monster surpassing the Blood Master Swordsmen. We’ve traced his movements.”

“He went from Shaanxi to Henan?”

“Whatever he’s plotting, they say his trail went cold at Pingdingshan in Henan. That’s Shaolin Temple’s territory.”

“Isn’t Shaolin on Mount Song in Zhengzhou? That’s quite a distance.”

“It’s the foremost orthodox sect. They say all martial arts under heaven come from Shaolin. There are few sects or gangs in the Central Plains untouched by its teachings. Its lay-affiliated sects are beyond counting. You could consider all of Henan Province within its sphere of influence. Being from Henan yourself, you should have a feel for that.”

Ma Jin averted his eyes as he mentioned Yeonshin’s origins. As his maternal uncle, he seemed troubled.

Jung Yeonshin nodded, though something else surprised him. This was the first time he had seen a supreme master of the Desolate Fortress show such respect for a martial sect.

This was an age when belonging to a group became one’s very identity. He had heard that few Desolate Fortress masters viewed the martial world from anything other than the perspective of the common people’s welfare.

To them, martial artists were potential rebels with power, ruffians who disrupted public order.

‘Shaolin of Mount Song. Truly a sect whose reach spans the world.’

Its strength and prestige eclipsed those of any other in the martial world. For the first time in a while, Jung Yeonshin felt his heart quicken.

Mount Song was the birthplace of the Central Plains’ martial learning. What inspiration would Shaolin’s arts offer him?

“But if it’s the Blood Flame Cult, couldn’t Shaolin handle it?”

“The warrior monks may cry ‘Destroy evil and uphold justice’ and ‘Exterminate the demons,’ but this is the Desolate Fortress. We can’t simply sit idle. We’ll take their heads ourselves. There’s the Apostle, of course, and more than one or two Blood Master Swordsmen.”

“Who will be going?”

“Radiant Demon Teams One and Two will accompany me.”

Radiant Demon Team One. Ma Jin had formed it after the Purple Radiance Pill mission in Shaanxi.

Jung Yeonshin, Heon Wonchang, Chung Myung, and Baek Miryeo had been grouped together. The Radiant Demon Squad had been reorganized into teams, he said, to make coordination easier.

“Doesn’t our team need rest?”

“They’re all like you. They either enjoy earning merit or traveling the martial world.”

The former seemed to mean Jung Yeonshin and Baek Miryeo; the latter, Heon Wonchang and Chung Myung.

“Understood. I’ll take my leave, then.”

“Get some rest.”

Leaving Ma Jin, who had finished arranging the force, he stepped out of the office.

By the time he came downstairs and outside, vermilion shadows lay across the sky. He headed for his room without stopping at the training ground and immediately sank into bed.

A lively commotion reached him. The seniors in another room seemed to be drinking together. Farther away, he could sense clashes in the training ground. Singing sword resonance, powerful shouts, laughter washing away fatigue, the clinking of cups...

Sunlight, softened by the window paper, brushed the side of his face. It was the touch of the sunset hanging at day’s end.

The crown of his head grew hot. It was always like this at this hour. When had it begun?

His upper dantian invited nature’s energy inside and set it dancing. The more it played, the larger the house grew, regardless of its owner’s wishes.

It happened when the boundary between day and night blurred.

The laughter of his seniors enjoying their drinking and singing grew louder. They seemed to be having fun.

Suddenly, he imagined shouting at them to stop.

Jung Yeonshin closed his eyes. Blue robes appeared in his darkened vision.

It felt as though cold water had struck him. Every sense in his body returned to reality in an instant.

No one was watching now. He curled up in his bed.

‘Just one more.’

One final mission stood between him and promotion to blue robe.

* * *

The wind swept fiercely over his cheeks as his horse galloped along. From atop the fine steed, Jung Yeonshin glanced around.

‘Proof of how important this mission is, I suppose.’

Eight others rode beside him. He had never gone on a mission with so many.

A formidable company. Nine masters of the Desolate Fortress’s Radiant Demon Squad.

“I can’t tell whether that’s an inn or a tavern. We’ll rest there.”

They entered the market street. Ma Jin’s voice resonated deeply, as though imbued with a strand of core energy.

Passersby hurrying along with anxious faces brightened at the sight of the Desolate Fortress uniforms.

The Desolate Fortress was by no means an organization confined to Huguang. It was said to enjoy greater popular support than most imperial inspectors. It broke the swords of the martial artists threatening people before their very eyes.

The company stopped in front of a tavern. It was quite large, though its framework looked shoddy. Even so, it was the finest building nearby.

Heon Wonchang dismounted and surveyed the area.

“This is Xinye County? It’s different from what I’ve heard.”

To travel through Henan from the Desolate Fortress, they had no choice but to pass through Xinye County. They had already passed the former site of the Jeong Clan Estate.

It was utterly ruined. The Phantom Thief’s words appeared to have been true. Not a single tree remained on the hill behind it.

‘He said they burned it all.’

Baek Miryeo glanced at Jung Yeonshin’s expressionless face. Then, stroking her long, pale fingers, she spoke.

“With the local pillar gone, the Underworld was bound to run rampant. Back-alley thugs will be running everything.”

Just then, voices rang out.

“... With the Jeong Clan Estate gone, this place is paradise. The boss was stunned, I tell you. The money from those woodlands they monopolized is just...”

“The Blood Flame Cult did us a favor. Maybe I’ll join them if I get kicked out of the gang.”

“A coward like you learning the Blood Art? Don’t make me laugh!”

The boisterous voices carried outside. This was the largest tavern in Xinye County, and the identity of the men gathered inside was obvious.

The mere fact that they discussed joining the Blood Flame Cult so casually showed they lived with no thought for the consequences.

Jung Yeonshin’s brows drew together.

‘The money from the woodlands.’

He remembered the day he had left to join the Desolate Fortress. The Chief Steward had said he would manage it. That money was not meant to fall into the hands of Underworld scum.

“Let’s go in.”

While Chung Myung entrusted the horses to a waiter, Jung Yeonshin took the lead. Even the masters of Radiant Demon Team Two followed, watching the mood of their youngest member. They were good people.

He pushed aside the lightly swaying bead curtain and stepped inside. The noise briefly ceased.

Contrary to its exterior, the room was very spacious. First he noticed a bald man holding an axe, another performing tricks with a dagger, and others with their tunics hanging open.

Men in all manner of dress grinned, each with a courtesan at his side. They looked like Underworld martial artists, but not one face was familiar. They all seemed to be from elsewhere.

Jung Yeonshin stepped forward and spoke calmly.

“You lot. Explain what happened to the Jeong Clan Estate’s land.”

“What?”

One man snickered. Just as he opened his mouth, seemingly about to call him a brat, Heon Wonchang suddenly stepped inside.

He turned the fabric below Jung Yeonshin’s shoulder toward the front. His skill surpassed most grappling techniques. By now, Yeonshin knew what this was: a method his experienced seniors used to bypass needless trouble in the martial world.

The man’s lips froze at the sight of the character for “Desolate.” Murmurs rippled through the room.

“Go on. Say what you wanted to say.”

Jung Yeonshin spoke without paying it any mind.