By the next morning, preparations for the mission were complete. Jung Yeonshin received a travel pack containing assorted supplies, dry rations, and traveling funds. As the blue-robed warrior, he was to be responsible for them.

The characters embroidered on their Desolate Fortress uniforms were also covered with pieces of silk. The work was remarkably deft.

“You will be dealing with distinguished martial families. Given the danger of this mission, you will not change out of your uniforms.”

Do Yoowon of the Command Bureau nodded at Ma Jin’s words.

“The Desolate Fortress’s formal uniforms contain thread spun by a spiritual creature called the heavenly silkworm. It is exceedingly valuable, so there is only a single strand over each vital area, embroidered vertically. It should buy you the briefest instant against a horizontal slash or a thrust.”

“And reinforcing them with iron plates would never escape an expert’s eye. It would only draw needless attention.”

“N-no, you cannot ask us to cover these! They are everything to Young Master Jung and me!”

Heon Wonchang made a show of outrage. With his left hand, he stroked the character on his own right side, while his right hand caressed the one beneath Jung Yeonshin’s shoulder.

It was thoroughly bizarre. Yeonshin edged away.

Heon Wonchang put on a slightly tearful face.

“Wasn’t Mount Hua enough? I cannot agree to this. The Desolate Fortress and I are now one!”

“Quiet the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior down.”

At Ma Jin’s calm instruction, Baek Miryeo approached. Only then did Heon Wonchang shrink back.

He slipped farther away, muttering something unintelligible. His junior, Shin Sobin, shook her head.

“Didn’t he join at the same time as you, Senior Lightning Genius? I wonder whether we can really keep a low profile.”

“Young Master Heon is not what he seems. I think you’re worrying needlessly.”

“I hope so. This is my first mission, too, and we’re only now going to learn how to work together. All I’ve seen of your martial arts was that brief glimpse during the Promotion Exam, Senior Lightning Genius. I’m curious whether you can live up to your reputation out in the world.”

Shin Sobin’s lips curved into a bold smile.

Jung Yeonshin was not particularly interested. He only hoped they would not hold him back.

Becoming a blue robe was not the end. The black robes of the next promotion carried the standing of a captain. He had been told the gulf was far greater than the one between white and blue.

'I’ve taken one step. From now on, I cannot fail a mission.'

He remembered the anxiety he had felt when they failed to subdue the Blood Flame Cult’s Seventh Apostle. He never wanted to experience it again. That was why it did not matter whether the Hwangbo clan’s young clan head had Solar Divine Meridians or anything else.

He would simply keep accumulating merits. Jung Yeonshin clasped his hands in salute to Ma Jin.

“I will see you later.”

“Yes. The moment you complete your mission, we move against the Hwangbo clan. I will see you then.”

Ma Jin nodded. After a brief silence, he spoke again, the scar beside his mouth taking on an awkward cast.

“... A mission can fail. Think of your own safety first.”

Yeonshin knew those were not the words of the Radiant Demon Squad’s captain. He bowed silently to his uncle.

Ma Jin was different from his maternal grandfather, Ma Yeonjeok. Yeonshin could not keep pushing away someone who felt genuine guilt and kept trying to reach out to him.

He turned his gaze slightly aside.

“Do not push yourself too hard later either, Captain. I hear the Hwangbo clan head is among the foremost experts in Shandong.”

“This is war, not a sparring match. We’ll attack him together.”

Ma Jin answered with a faint smile.

Shaking his head as if disappointed by that response, Jung Yeonshin mounted the fine brown horse beside him. Feeling the saddle support him firmly, he patted the horse’s neck.

When he lived at the Jeong Clan Estate, he had imagined a thousand-li steed that would be his companion for life. Reality was different. At the Desolate Fortress, they changed fine horses so frequently that it was difficult to grow attached.

“Take good care of me until the post station.”

Leaning forward, he whispered to the horse. He gathered the reins as his seniors in the Radiant Demon Squad saw them off. Heon Wonchang and Shin Sobin rode up on either side.

“Off into the martial world again. It always sets my heart racing.”

Heon Wonchang grinned. After a brief glance at Shin Sobin, who was eyeing him dubiously, Jung Yeonshin flicked his reins.

It was his first mission as a blue-robed warrior of the Desolate Fortress.

* * *

Merely covering the Desolate Fortress’s insignia made him feel as though he had entered another world.

Was it because he had to lead the party without his seniors? He was no Heon Wonchang, yet he felt something missing. The backing that had inspired respect or fear in everyone was gone.

'I’ve heard Desolate Fortress experts face contempt in Murim, too.'

So Jung Yeonshin thought. Having yet to experience it himself, he could hardly be expected to feel the same way.

Their destination was Huizhou in Southern Zhili. A slightly roundabout route of post roads led there from Xiangyang. Unlike their previous missions, they would not have to give their horses lengthy rests.

The party rode swiftly. True to her direct descent from a distinguished martial family, Shin Sobin was an accomplished rider. Riding for long stretches was another matter entirely, yet that posed no obstacle to her either.

Heon Wonchang also kept an excellent pace. He said a leisurely tour of the martial world was best enjoyed after finishing the mission.

Twenty days passed. Jung Yeonshin lacked the internal power to cross provinces using lightness skill. The two white robes were no different. They had to rely on horses.

Nothing of note happened before they reached the vicinity of Huizhou, despite reports that forest bandits and river stronghold pirates were everywhere. Heon Wonchang claimed to have encountered countless such people on his journey from Shanxi to Xiangyang for the desolate fortress trial. Their uneventful journey made Yeonshin wonder whether it had all been bluster.

'I’m getting a feel for it.'

Throughout the journey, Jung Yeonshin practiced his sword song, gradually seeking to develop it into a sound technique. He was also dismantling the formula of the Moon Spirit Harmonization Art. It seemed he could devise a new internal cultivation art before the Dragon-Phoenix Summit ended, at least.

HUMMM.

He was in a spot overlooking the highway leading toward Huizhou. Beneath an unusually large ginkgo tree beside the road, Northern Radiance hummed across his crossed legs.

The Desolate Sword was absent. He had left it with Chung Myung because he needed to conceal his affiliation.

'Making the sword resonance louder has become easier.'

Infusing a sword with internal energy to keep it from breaking easily was a common method—among experts, at least.

Jung Yeonshin went further. He sensed the essence of sound. Applying the principles of the Classic of Initiating Transcendence, he separated his core energy into two strands and fed them into the blade. As the fine waves of qi grew more violent, the sound grew louder.

VROOOM!

The mysteries of core energy were astonishing. Manipulation so exquisitely delicate that even his innate senses struggled with it produced a resonance unlike anything he had heard. He could control the pitch.

If he infused the spreading melody with outward-projecting core energy, it would become a sound technique.

'In the end, this martial art’s power will depend on how much internal energy I have, too.'

There were other problems. Sound techniques, too, were said to be profound martial disciplines. With so little time spent training, Jung Yeonshin’s sword song could scarcely distinguish friend from foe. He thought of Heon Wonchang and Shin Sobin.

Send a sound transmission telling them to protect their ears with internal energy just before he unleashed it? How wonderful it would be if every fight allowed him that much leeway.

Even so, he felt a great sense of accomplishment. It would prove highly effective when he fought many opponents alone.

“You called it a sword song, right? It really does draw a lot of attention.”

It was Shin Sobin, dressed in white. Her jet-black eyes sparkled with interest. She approached with light steps, placed her hands on her knees, and bent forward. Her long, tied-back hair spilled down in a glossy cascade.

Jung Yeonshin wondered why she grew her hair so long when she was not even an expert. It looked all too easy to grab in close combat.

“Sorry.”

Letting those thoughts drift away, he apologized.

Huizhou was an enormous city. It was said to be so prosperous that merchant caravans carrying goods such as fine tea leaves and silver coins constantly traveled in and out. The relatively safe highway was, naturally, no exception. Many passersby on the road opposite glanced their way.

“I enjoy listening to it! It has quite an elegant charm.”

Heon Wonchang beamed as he tore into his dry rations. Perhaps because the character meaning “desolate” was covered, he seemed oddly pleased to receive attention.

Just then, some people slowly approached.

“They look to be attending the Dragon-Phoenix Summit. How utterly inconsiderate.”

“Making a sword resonate in broad daylight, without even a fight? What could that be but showing off their paltry martial arts?”

They were a young man and woman with extraordinary bearing, dressed in luxurious yellow silk martial robes. Jung Yeonshin first looked at the swords at their waists.

Martial artists. They appeared to come from a family of no ordinary standing. The young man wore a hero’s headband around his forehead, as Heon Wonchang did, while the woman’s eyes tilted slightly upward. Both looked about twenty, their faces still retaining a trace of youth. A group that appeared to be their attendants followed behind.

Before Heon Wonchang could say anything, Jung Yeonshin stood.

“I was thoughtless. Your words strike deeply home.”

As he clasped his hands in a courteous salute, the pair’s postures changed. They returned the greeting in precisely the same manner, as if they had studied etiquette for years. Though almost reflexive, their movements were disciplined.

“... You admit your fault readily enough. Not a bad sight.”

“Perhaps it is because we let our irritation show through our qi fluctuations. He must have been frightened.”

Both were arrogant yet refined, enough to immediately bring the Dragon-Phoenix Summit to mind. Many rising talents from distinguished martial families were said to be attending. These two were likely among them.

“Your name and sect?”

The man asked with his chin slightly raised.

Even the great families of the world were said to contain all sorts. The same held true of how they observed propriety. While some were humble, like Sword Dragon Wiji Myohwa, stories of arrogant young talents from distinguished orthodox backgrounds were hardly rare.

'They seem to belong to a martial family.'

Jung Yeonshin considered it. Martial nobles who acted like kings in their own regions could well behave this way. This was an age when gatherings like the Dragon-Phoenix Summit were infrequent. Having lived like royalty in their own little worlds, perhaps it was only natural that incidents like the Hwangbo clan’s forced labor abuses occurred.

The young man raised his eyebrows slightly.

“What are you thinking so hard about? Speak without concealment.”

“I am Gu Gwa of the Truth-Seeking Sect.”

“Truth-Seeking Sect? I’ve never heard of it. A nobody of no pedigree, then.”

The woman beside him spoke mercilessly. Faint contempt appeared on both their faces, and their tone changed. The young man’s thick eyebrows twitched as he spoke.

“Indeed. As you can see, we are blood members of a distinguished orthodox family. You have heard of the Hwangbo clan, I presume? I know every orthodox sect attending the Dragon-Phoenix Summit. If yours stands somewhere between orthodox and unorthodox, I cannot simply let you go.”

“You need to be set straight. You might misuse your ability to produce sword resonance.”

The woman stepped forward to add her words. She seemed thoroughly accustomed to satisfying her feelings by throwing her weight around.

“...”

The Hwangbo clan? Huizhou was only a short distance away, true. Even so, for a moment Jung Yeonshin could not believe it. He was so taken aback that only belatedly did he recall the portrait in the description of the young clan head Ma Jin had given him.

The faces resembled each other.

At the banquet celebrating his promotion to blue robe, he had heard Ma Jin speak drunkenly of how his sister—Jung Yeonshin’s mother—had left him and married into the Jeong Clan Estate through circumstances that were truly absurd.

He had said fate in the martial world was like a sudden storm. Was this situation much the same?

He felt the qi fluctuations of Heon Wonchang and Shin Sobin intensify as they watched from behind.

He had expected this to take a long time, but perhaps he could finish quickly. He offered thanks to the Buddha and the Primordial Heavenly Lord.

There was no particular reason to hold back. He had to contend with the Hwangbo clan’s young clan head and make him mobilize his family’s strength. From the outset, this mission had required him to cross blades within orthodox territory.

'I should make certain I have clear justification.'

First, he lowered the hands he had clasped in salute and opened his mouth.

“You dare speak of pedigree?”

Jung Yeonshin let his true nature show without concealment.

“The Hwangbo clan may be renowned, but your conduct is rude even after hearing my sect’s name. Is that the etiquette of the martial world? Your insults have tarnished my sect’s honor. We have each spoken of the other’s faults. What else do martial artists use to continue such a discussion?”

“What...?”

Was this something they had never experienced? For an instant, both faces went blank.

Jung Yeonshin sensed spectators beginning to gather around them. He continued in a clear voice.

“I first offered a courteous apology. Even in the face of your outrageous words and conduct, I gave my name and sect. Yet you invoke the Hwangbo clan and call me a nobody? Could you endure that in my place? I challenge you to a match.”

“What a glib tongue you have.”

The young man’s lips curled upward. He raised an arm, pushing back the woman, whose delicate brows were drawn together. Veins bulged on the forearm revealed beneath his sleeve. He appeared to have trained his qi and blood to an extraordinary degree.

“Very well. I disliked the very idea of inviting sects that straddle orthodoxy and unorthodoxy to the Dragon-Phoenix Summit. My epithet is...”

“I am not interested. Come.”

Cutting him off, Jung Yeonshin slowly closed his hand around Northern Radiance’s hilt.

Suddenly, he recalled the Martial Alliance’s Sword Flower, whose head had gone flying.