Desolate Fortress martial robes bore the embroidered character for “desolate” on both shoulders and at the center of the back. Those looking from the front would have trouble recognizing them, unless they were particularly knowledgeable.

“Are you the magistrate of Pingyin County?” Jung Yeonshin asked quietly.

He had been told this operation had long been in preparation, and had received plenty of information. The Desolate Fortress investigated everything it could before dispatching the combat units under the Divine Sword Squad. Its intelligence gathering covered not only the Hwangbo clan’s main house, but the members and martial specialties of its branches as well.

“Can you not tell by looking? I am rather well known, after all.” The noble-race man answered with a smile.

He was strikingly handsome, enough to lend his official robes an air of nobility. Even while watching the unfamiliar warriors, he continued to let the women serve him wine. There was elegance even in the hand he extended with his cup. He was merely a wastrel in an official’s hat, yet he seemed a person of an entirely different stature.

The noble-race magistrate’s gaze passed over Jung Yeonshin and Baek Miryeo before settling on Chung Myung.

“Ah, one of my own people is here. Surely you are not joining in their game of playing chivalrous heroes? I would advise against it. Consider that a friendly warning.”

“...”

Chung Myung wore a peculiar expression and gave no answer.

The atmosphere in the estate was strange. The smell of wine filled the air, and everyone moving about gazed at the magistrate with reverence and affection. A few directed similar looks at Chung Myung.

‘There may be Han people who adore the noble race everywhere, but...’

Jung Yeonshin wondered if this was what debauchery looked like. It was an atmosphere he had never encountered even at the Jeong Clan Estate.

He slowly stepped forward and spoke.

“I know the head of the Hwangbo branch in Pingyin County is your first wife. Bring her here.”

“What poor manners. Have you never studied the Confucian teachings? Is that how your parents raised you?” the noble-race magistrate replied with an easy smile.

“A magistrate colluding with a martial clan. That is hardly the conduct of a gentleman. What respect do you expect?”

At Jung Yeonshin’s calm reply, the woman massaging the magistrate’s arm rose. Was she about thirty? Her languid, lowered eyes were striking. She slowly began to release waves of qi befitting her red, close-fitting martial attire.

“I am my dear husband Geum’s principal wife. Any warrior of Shandong will have heard of me. I am the Artisan Swordsmaiden, Hwangbo Mimi.”

That meant the magistrate’s surname was Geum. The form of address she had used referred to a husband.

The noble race had risen to prominence with the founding of the Ming. Women often occupied official posts from the lowest to the highest ranks, as well as key positions in the various sects of the martial world. He had heard it was entirely different from the Yuan era.

None of that mattered now.

“As head of the Pingyin Hwangbo house, I command you to curb your insolence. No. It is already too late. What would have cost you an arm will now cost you your head.”

As the waves of qi emanating from her grew stronger, warriors emerged from the surrounding halls. There were more than twenty. Whatever their dismissive words, they did not underestimate the force of the fist art that had destroyed their gate. They were indeed a branch of a prestigious clan.

Five of the Pingyin Hwangbo warriors began approaching first. Despite their sudden appearance, their bearing was steady, with something of tempered iron about it. They seemed to declare that, branch family or not, their roots lay in one of the Eight Great Families.

Jung Yeonshin did not look at them. He gazed steadily at the Artisan Swordsmaiden, then slowly spoke.

“Do you know Hwangbo Myeongrin?”

“What?”

“You talk about arms and heads exactly as she did.”

“You must have heard of her somewhere. She is a gifted child, accomplished enough to attend the Dragon-Phoenix Summit. However...”

A crimson smile formed on Hwangbo Mimi’s lips, as though they had been painted with rouge. She continued.

“Did you think I would let you off merely because you spoke as though you knew a member of the direct line? Not a chance.”

‘The world is going to ruin. Warriors ought to be training instead.’

Unbidden, a thought more fitting for some sect elder crossed Jung Yeonshin’s mind.

The image of the Desolate Fortress Master naturally came to him as well. Having reached the absolute heights of martial attainment, she needed no adornment; her grace alone made her beautiful. For a warrior, beauty lay in sublime martial skill.

He spoke again.

“I saw the marketplace on my way here. It is true that you have been conscripting the common people for private labor. You have extended your power in Murim to their livelihoods. Aren’t you ashamed as martial artists?”

Throughout this exchange, Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo had remained back. They had said they wanted to broaden their youngest blue-robed member’s experience of the martial world. They had agreed earlier that they would not intervene unless the situation became genuinely dangerous. He could not imagine how he would repay the kindness of his Radiant Demon Squad seniors.

Then everyone in the estate laughed at Jung Yeonshin’s words. The magistrate and the Artisan Swordsmaiden laughed especially loudly, without even covering their mouths.

“Child, you have been listening to far too many foolish tales of the martial world. Power is simply power. Distinguish between the martial world and the common people’s lives? How could anyone do that?”

The Artisan Swordsmaiden spoke with a broad smile. The noble-race magistrate chimed in.

“A martial clan is also a regional noble clan. What is wrong with enjoying luxuries befitting its history in the place where it has settled?”

“A member of the noble race, denying imperial law. Your first wife will lose her head today.”

Jung Yeonshin’s reply only drew more ridicule. This time, even the slowly advancing warriors burst into laughter.

“You have no appreciation for refinement. So typical of self-proclaimed chivalrous heroes. Attend me.”

The magistrate lightly clapped his hands.

“Yes, Lord Magistrate!”

People who appeared to be musicians came bustling out from all around and took their places. They carried plucked strings and wind instruments, including zithers and jade flutes. It was like watching a performance of Peking opera.

At the magistrate’s gesture, the music began. At the same time, the Hwangbo branch warriors drew their blades and closed in. They seemed to treat even a fight between warriors as entertainment.

‘Remarkable.’

Jung Yeonshin stood still.

He recalled something he had heard at the Desolate Fortress, where news of every kind from across the world converged. It concerned certain high-ranking figures who had sampled every pleasure. Their final amusement, it was said, was watching murder.

The scene before him was just that. He knew at once: this was no recent development.

“A boy swordsman capable of smashing the estate’s gate. Such talent seems rather a shame to waste.”

“Does that not make it all the more entertaining?”

The Artisan Swordsmaiden had already returned to her seat and was exchanging smiles with the magistrate. They even shared a cup of wine.

‘How can it be so different?’

Jung Yeonshin recalled entering the village. He had liked the simple rustle of grass that welcomed their party. This place was different. He felt suffocated.

“I can’t bear listening to this.”

He muttered the words without realizing it.

The melody now flowing through the estate did possess the refinement the magistrate spoke of. Even Jung Yeonshin, who knew nothing of music, could sense it. That made it all the more repugnant.

Shandong was vast, and Jinan was said to be its center. There would be many local martial artists, among them the chivalrous heroes these people had mentioned.

“Go in peace.”

One of the men spoke as he raised his drawn sword. He seemed to feel at least a little guilt. By now, he had closed to within ten paces of Jung Yeonshin.

“You seem practiced at this. I will have to reconsider the Eight Great Families. Aren’t you all just unorthodox scum?”

Jung Yeonshin spoke as he reached for Northern Radiance’s hilt.

Many righteous martial artists must have come here, outraged by the common people’s forced labor. It seemed they had killed them all. The music flowing so naturally into his ears. The warriors advancing with footwork that seemed to keep its rhythm.

He decided to strike first.

THUD! WHOOSH!

He lifted his foot slightly and stamped it down, sending concentric gusts of wind sweeping outward. The martial power he fully roused ran deeper than before.

He had been continually circulating the Moon Spirit Harmonization Art while devising a new mental cultivation method. The rate at which this peerless divine art accumulated qi was truly different. He could already sense a small but noticeable change.

That single stamp changed everyone’s expressions. At the same instant, Jung Yeonshin leaned forward. Wind exploded beside his ears, and the scene before him rushed closer. His movement took only an instant.

Ripples of core energy began spreading from the hand gripping his sword hilt. He was already right before his enemies. He circulated his core energy according to the formula. Dazzling sunlight shimmered at the culmination of the Radiant Sword Art’s draw.

SWISH!

The instant the streak of light flashed, two heads flew off. They did not even have time to scream.

‘It’s not over. There are many enemies.’

Waves of qi erupted from Jung Yeonshin’s body. Part of the force surging in every direction reached Northern Radiance and became a chilling sharpness.

With another stamp, he swept his sword sideways, the aftermath of the strike gouging the ground. The sensation of the blade cutting through another man’s neck traveled into his grip.

SPURT!

His swordsmanship had now reached a level where blood did not gush forth until a breath after the cut. Amid the rising dust, he shouted.

“The Desolate Fortress’s Radiant Demon Squad has come to punish you!”

His roar carried internal energy. Everyone in the estate recoiled in terror. They were utterly panic-stricken. Three corpses had been made in the blink of an eye. The lively music stopped at once.

“The Desolate Fortress...! Wait, wait!”

The noble-race magistrate sprang to his feet and waved his hands. Cold sweat had appeared on his handsome face, making it glisten.

“I have committed a grave, truly grave discourtesy! Please forget everything I have said! I am of the noble race! How could I deliberately disrupt the imperial order?”

His eyes darted nimbly about. First, he scanned Jung Yeonshin, whose changed stance had exposed the embroidered character for “desolate” below his shoulder. His gaze also reached Baek Miryeo and Chung Myung, standing there impassively.

A look of resignation seemed to settle over his face. Seeing Chung Myung, a member of the noble race, appeared to have convinced him.

“... My wife was acting on orders from the main house. And as a magistrate within Jinan, I too was powerless to defy the Hwangbo clan.”

“Do you expect that to make sense? You apparently feel no shame in taking back everything you said.”

“I ask for leniency. As I understand it, you cannot kill an imperial official. If the branch family and I attack together, you will find it difficult to leave unscathed.”

As he finished, waves of qi spread from the magistrate’s right hand. His internal energy was deep enough to make his considerable training immediately apparent.

“Now he is threatening us.”

“The guilty party is turning on his accusers.”

At last, Baek Miryeo and Chung Myung stepped forward.

“If you are from the Desolate Fortress, you must have come knowing everything. What choice do I have?”

Meanwhile, the magistrate’s smile had regained its ease. He lightly patted the shoulder of his first wife, the Artisan Swordsmaiden, who was glaring murderously at Jung Yeonshin.

“My wife.”

“... Yes.”

Hwangbo Mimi snapped her fingers. The instant the sound rang out, seemingly infused with internal power, another thirty-odd warriors poured out of the various halls. Jinan was an enormous city, and even a branch overseeing a single county possessed martial forces befitting its role.

“...”

The stillness that momentarily settled over the estate did not feel like silence. The presence of the Hwangbo warriors filled the grounds.

“Would it not be best for you to withdraw?”

The magistrate addressed Chung Myung, who had come to stand beside Jung Yeonshin. His robes were already fluttering, as though he had roused all the internal energy in his body. His attempt at persuasion came across as a threat.

“You spoke of refinement.”

Jung Yeonshin glanced around at the warriors beginning to form a ring around them.

“I too have been practicing a melody lately.”

As he spoke, a vibration stirred in Northern Radiance. Its resonance steadily grew. Circulating his internal energy at full power throughout his body, Jung Yeonshin glanced at Baek Miryeo and Chung Myung. They gave slight nods.

WHEEEEE!

A long cry rose from the blade. In that instant, invisible waves of core energy surged out and swept in every direction.

“Hup!”

“Urgh...?”

The sight was truly unreal. Dozens collapsed in every direction with brief groans. Dull thuds sounded all around.

The sword resonance quickly faded, but its aftermath did not. The entire encirclement had fallen. The Hwangbo branch warriors lay sprawled on the ground in various positions. Dead with their eyes wide open, they stared emptily at the sky.

Only a handful remained standing, among them the magistrate and the Artisan Swordsmaiden.

“So unorthodox scum can appreciate refinement.”

Jung Yeonshin glanced around and spoke.

“It seems to have left quite an impression.”

He sheathed Northern Radiance as he spoke.