The Hwangbo clan had a long history.

Rising to prominence in Shandong in the final years of the Yuan, the Hwangbo bloodline had settled at the province’s heart: Jinan.

Over the years, grandmasters had honed the clan’s martial arts. The united bloodline grew ever stronger. It was an age of turmoil, and they seized vast Yuan estates wherever they could.

They continued until the noble race, said to have descended upon rays of light, rose to power.

In return for submitting to the new Ming dynasty, the Hwangbo family came to be recognized as a regional noble clan.

A martial clan had been born. For generations afterward, they conducted themselves as the rulers of Jinan.

“Mom. When’s my brother coming back?”

A girl of about fifteen drove an axe down with a thud beside the household tools and left it there.

Her family had made a living chopping wood in Jinan’s Pingyin County for two generations.

Martial arts were said to be difficult to learn, but those who could read often kept books on qi circulation and controlled breathing.

The Three Powers Heart Method promulgated by the imperial court had increased people’s capacity for labor.

They said even an ignorant peasant could draw in small amounts of qi from the air. It was a secret art of the noble race that imbued bodies and soil with strength, making people mighty laborers and fields fertile.

A middle-aged woman sitting nearby twisting straw rope spoke. Her hemp clothes were shabby, but her tone was refined and her enunciation clear.

“The Hwangbo clan took him, remember? Let’s wait patiently. Your brother might even come home a martial artist. If he becomes so much as a gatekeeper for a powerful family, at least we won’t go hungry.”

“The trees on the hill out back haven’t been any good lately. Mr. Ma keeps knocking the price down. Why didn’t they drag him off?” the girl complained.

She was quite skilled with an axe for her age, but she was no mighty strongman.

The Three Powers Heart Method was wondrous, but it was closer to a health-preserving art. That she could do as much work as a grown man was due to her exceptional aptitude.

It was enough that Mr. Ma, who seemed to have ties to the Hwangbo clan, had begun pressuring her to become a disciple.

Startled, her mother whispered, “Dragged off? Watch your tongue. They say warriors have ears as sharp as bats’.”

“They’re all off feasting with the magistrate, aren’t they? It’s nice that those idle bastards who kept pestering me got dragged off too, but at this rate we’re going to starve. Firewood sells for next to nothing, and there’s hardly any food. What little there is, the magistrate and those Hwangbo bastards snap right up.”

“I told you to watch your tongue!”

The middle-aged woman screamed in a breathy whisper, then steadied her breathing.

“The Hwangbo clan is a distinguished family that protects us. They did even in your grandfather’s day, when he passed the civil service examination.”

“It’s always Grandfather with you!”

“He said people outside Jinan have their labor stolen by martial artists all the time. At least that doesn’t happen to us. If your late father hadn’t been a gambler, we’d have lived comfortably.”

“Stealing people’s labor? That’s exactly what those Hwangbo bastards are doing. Think how much my brother could be earning if he were here.”

“Honestly, child! You’ll get us in terrible trouble insulting the orthodox factions!”

With a smack to her back, the girl left the house grumbling.

“What’s orthodox about bastards who kill every righteous hero? You use words all wrong, Mom! And you’re the one who taught me to read!”

Her mother’s scolding leaked through the cracks around the closed door. Ignoring it, the girl set off down the road.

Perhaps because she was walking aimlessly, she reached the Hwangbo residence in Pingyin County—the largest estate in the village—without quite realizing it.

She glanced up at the great manor and was just turning hurriedly away.

“Huh?”

“Perfect timing.”

The voice was deep and resonant. A powerful hand seized her by the scruff of the neck and hoisted her up.

“Just when I thought those Desolate Fortress thugs would wipe out an entire branch family.”

“M-Mr. Ma?”

The girl was spun around. The middle-aged man in yellow silk wore an indifferent expression.

He walked toward the shattered gate, murmuring, “You could pose a question to those fellows. What is chivalry?”

* * *

Sword song. The power displayed by the sword’s sound technique had been monstrous.

“What is this...?”

Hwangbo Mimi, the Artisan Swordsmaiden, gazed blankly around the estate.

The dead and unconscious lay strewn everywhere, one after another.

The fighting had stopped. It remained still until the servants, who had withdrawn the moment combat began, leaving only the laden tables behind, cautiously showed their faces.

“Wh-what?”

“Why are they lying down? They’re bleeding.”

“They aren’t moving. Are they dead?”

As their shrill screams rang out at the sight of the carnage, waves of qi began flowing from the Artisan Swordsmaiden’s hand resting on her sword hilt.

For all her finery, her hands could not conceal the marks of training.

She was undoubtedly an exceptional swordswoman. Her lips barely moved over clenched teeth, yet even her voice carried killing intent.

“How dare you.”

“... Sound techniques are among the rarest martial arts under heaven.”

The magistrate muttered. Gone was the aloof pleasure-seeker who had wanted to watch a bloody fight accompanied by music.

Now, his eyes heavy and somber, he could only stare at the three members of the Radiant Demon Squad.

They had gained a few breaths of time. Jung Yeonshin inhaled slowly.

The Moon Spirit Harmonization Art was also a method of breathing. Recalling the Desolate Fortress Master’s long, slender breaths when she had taught him brought calm to his mind.

'I pushed too hard.'

The core-energy control required to perform sword song was extraordinarily precise. It taxed his senses to their limit.

He had to load outward-projecting core energy onto sound produced with internal energy.

The technique drew enormously on the faculties of his upper dantian. It could almost be called a divine feat.

“You wanted to discuss refined pleasures, didn’t you? Why have you fallen silent?”

Though Jung Yeonshin spoke with feigned composure, he felt utterly exhausted.

It was as if someone had stuffed a waterlogged cloth inside his head.

This was his first time using sword song at full power. He had to, if he wanted to kill martial artists instantly.

That held true even for those weaker than him.

Their natural Protective Aura was still a barrier of internal energy. To pierce their ears with the sword’s resonance and kill them, he had no other choice.

'I can’t use it twice. To think even once would be this hard.'

His body, which had been in peak condition, suddenly felt sluggish. Among masters, they said, the slightest difference decided life and death.

If any of his enemies equaled or surpassed him, he would have a difficult battle ahead.

'Hm?'

As the breathing of the Moon Spirit Harmonization Art let him examine his internal state, Jung Yeonshin went blank for a moment.

The top of his head. His crown.

It was unmistakably different from that morning. His innate senses detected the change within the day.

His Baihui point had widened further. It seemed to be three days’ worth.

'My hand.'

In the midst of a real battle, his index finger trembled. Not from a lack of strength, but from a momentary surge of panic.

An instinctive fear of death suddenly seized him. For a moment, the abyss swallowed him.

Moving core energy was like using one’s muscles.

They said anyone who could release and withdraw internal power freely, without straining their will, was already a peerless master.

The internal-energy realms called Three Flowers Gather at the Crown, Five Qi Return to the Origin, and Ascending the Peak of Perfection were steps in that process.

That was different from Jung Yeonshin’s innate senses. It meant climbing an enormous mountain.

'I’ll find a solution later.'

He had a life-and-death battle before him.

He forced his attention back, struggling to shut his anxiety away in a corner of his mind.

Just as he had crammed away the shock of his first killing when the Jeong Clan Estate was destroyed.

'Think about the martial arts first. Would I need to reach at least the Black rank’s level to avoid the backlash?'

Jung Yeonshin owed much of his control over internal power to his inborn upper dantian.

He manipulated core energy through his senses alone, without any fundamental change in his internal-energy realm.

Exceeding his limits was bound to bring a reaction.

“Gold tassels. So you’re the Desolate Fortress Master’s disciple.”

Hwangbo Mimi, the Artisan Swordsmaiden, muttered as she slowly approached.

The scene surrounding her was the reward for the price Jung Yeonshin had paid.

The aftermath of the broken encirclement was truly overwhelming.

A blue-robed warrior had single-handedly demolished the fighting force of a branch of one of the Eight Great Families.

“...”

How did Jung Yeonshin look to her, standing tall without a word?

The Artisan Swordsmaiden’s steps were cautious. She seemed to have begun using her footwork, yet he could sense no particular surge of force.

He simply watched her steadily.

'Hwangbo Mimi, the Artisan Swordsmaiden.'

She was, after all, the head of a branch family.

He had to set aside the image of her with rouge on her lips, showing affection to her husband alongside his other wives and concubines.

He had no reason to think her accumulated martial skill was shallow.

Jung Yeonshin stood here because he had exploited his enemies’ carelessness. He could never allow their positions to be reversed.

SHING.

He gripped the Desolate Sword’s hilt and slowly drew it.

“Artisan Swordsmaiden. I remember what you said.”

“... Serving the Desolate Fortress does not ennoble your lowborn blood. You have no right to speak to me.”

“You mentioned an arm first. You unorthodox scum.”

Jung Yeonshin spoke quietly. His head was ringing.

His overworked upper dantian felt incandescently hot, but he sent Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo a sound transmission.

He was treating this as a solo assignment.

He meant for them not to interfere. To advance beyond Black and attain purple robes—could the road there be anything but carnage?

There would be battles that left him hovering at death’s door. He needed experience wielding his martial arts in a condition as poor as this.

That was why he said, “Come.”

At that moment, he sensed people crossing the estate’s threshold in the distance. He was in no position to concern himself with them.

WHOOSH!

A heavy wave of qi surged from the Artisan Swordsmaiden’s blade as it bore down on him.

The blade was exceptionally broad. Just as his blue-robed senior from the Annihilation Squad had told him.

The martial art inherited by this Pingyin branch employed heavy swordsmanship. Its sword movements were firm and difficult to shake.

A straight wave of martial force shot toward him with tremendous sword force.

He wondered how many times she had circulated her core energy on her approach. This was a thoroughly prepared strike.

CLANG!

The instant he met it with the Desolate Sword, he nearly lost his grip. That was despite trying to deflect as much of its force as possible.

At the same time, his dulled senses sharpened once more.

TAP!

He retreated one step.

At the same time, instinct shone. Twisting his elbow, he guided his opponent’s wave of force to the internal oblique muscles at the back of his waist.

His knees bent naturally. The impact of the sword blow traveled through his gluteus maximus to the backs of his thighs.

At that point, his opponent’s strength became Jung Yeonshin’s own wave of force.

Powerful energy surged explosively from the leg he had drawn back.

CRUNCH!

Without lifting his foot and stamping it down, he had produced a forceful stomp. It took only an instant.

The motions of every muscle that had channeled the force reversed in a flash.

The power blazed up to the hand gripping his sword hilt, releasing a heavy, invisible wave of martial force.

The air shook. He was answering heavy swordsmanship with heavy swordsmanship.

Fragments of martial force burst from his sword hand, raising a powerful gust. He swung the Desolate Sword upward.

BANG!

“Hup!”

The Artisan Swordsmaiden’s sword flew from her hand just as she brought down her second move.

She had not been careless in the slightest.

This was Jung Yeonshin’s perception—the martial might of Lightning Genius.

Her face, momentarily stunned, flashed past the edge of his vision. The instant he sent her sword flying, he rotated with Silk-Reeling Force.

Jung Yeonshin, too, had immediately prepared a second strike.

SLASH!

He distinctly felt resistance through the blade.

The Desolate Sword returned in a dim flash, blood staining its surface. The Artisan Swordsmaiden’s right arm fell away.

“Ugh!”

She gasped and staggered backward.

Jung Yeonshin flicked his sword clean.

In this moment, he was the stronger one. He was clearly looking down upon the head of the Hwangbo branch family.

His talent was not limited to learning. His ability to fight sharpened even when he was utterly exhausted.

His senses held a strength that could not be measured by his level of martial attainment.

“Perhaps he’ll venture into the martial world alone next time.”

Chung Myung’s amused voice came from behind him.

Jung Yeonshin strode forward.

Blood dripped from the lowered tip of his sword. Ahead of it stood the Artisan Swordsmaiden, frantically striking pressure points on her right upper arm to staunch the bleeding.

He slowly parted his lips.

“You said it yourself.”

He stepped forward impassively and raised the Desolate Sword a little. This was the moment he would single-handedly destroy a branch of the Hwangbo clan.

It seemed more than enough in exchange for three days of his life. At the very least, it was not a feat a blue robe could normally accomplish alone.

Already, the Desolate Fortress Master’s face came to mind.

“After the arm, you mentioned the head,” he said.