His opponent had lost both her sword and her arm. Jung Yeonshin was about to cut off the Artisan Swordsmaiden’s head when a shout rang out.

“You lawless wretch!”

The magistrate charged from far behind her, whipping up a gale. The pale green skirts of his official robes fluttered like butterfly wings. With the movements peculiar to the noble race, he swept past the Artisan Swordsmaiden and spread his arms wide to shield her.

“You dare harm my principal wife? The Desolate Fortress is the imperial family’s sword! Since when does a mere blade cut down its own master?”

“You’re putting the Hwangbo bloodline on the same footing as the imperial family?”

Jung Yeonshin’s gaze held even less feeling than if he were looking at rubbish by the roadside. He had never expected to feel this way toward a member of the noble race. At least, he could never have imagined it back at the Jeong Clan Estate.

The magistrate bit his lip.

“... You can do nothing without cutting me down first. Give up. How could you harm me, the magistrate of Pingyin County? You aren’t even a black-robed warrior!”

WHOOSH!

Another gust blew. Jung Yeonshin glanced sideways. Chung Myung was already standing beside him. His ever-present smile had vanished without a trace.

“We need only follow our people’s laws.”

As Chung Myung spoke, his expression changed. His eyes remained the same, but his lips curved into a smile.

“Her Majesty the Grand Empress Dowager decreed that members of the noble race serving the Desolate Fortress may execute officials of the sixth rank or below, regardless of their own standing. A county magistrate is seventh rank, isn’t he? I thought it an absurd privilege, but missions do turn up occasions to use it.”

“You would truly...!”

“They say even our people become an eyesore when they mingle with the Han people and succumb to worldly ways. No one will object if I take your head. At worst, I might be summoned to Beijing for a little while.”

The magistrate, who had savored the deaths of chivalrous warriors to musical accompaniment, lost his good cheer. His handsome face turned deathly pale.

This surprised Jung Yeonshin too. The noble race’s immense influence in the Ming Empire was a given, but he had never known they possessed authority one would expect only of a black-robed warrior of captain rank. Was it because noble-race blood ran so thick in the imperial lineage itself?

“Whew.”

The magistrate suddenly sighed. Calm returned to his face, and he smiled faintly.

“I nearly disgraced myself on my way out. Without elegance, how could one speak of the refined pleasures of wine, song, and dance?”

“What more is there to say? Go without disgracing our people.”

“Ah, naturally.”

The moment Chung Myung drew his sword, the magistrate’s smile deepened.

“I suppose I must be going. There is no one under heaven who would not welcome me.”

Jung Yeonshin looked back. A surge of qi was rising near the shattered gate. He had sensed a presence there that had grated on his nerves since his fight with the Artisan Swordsmaiden. As he had suspected, it was no ally.

“Desolate Fortress!”

The middle-aged man was enormous, with a long scar across his cheek. In one hand, he held a girl by the scruff of her neck. She looked about Jung Yeonshin’s age. Her mute and paralysis points appeared to have been sealed; she hung rigid in his grip, unable to speak.

He roared, “You scum who throw Murim into chaos with your twisted talk of chivalry!”

The magistrate brightened at his shout and eagerly chimed in.

“I must call you Hwangbo Majun now, rather than Mr. Ma! To think such a crisis would come! With a warrior of the main house gracing us with his presence, I, Geum, am relieved of a great burden!” he cried.

He was not wholly cheerful, seemingly troubled by the lost right arm of his principal wife, the Artisan Swordsmaiden Hwangbo Mimi. Even so, relief was spreading across his face.

The man called Hwangbo Majun did not answer. He ignored the magistrate completely, as though he had never thought much of him.

Hoisting the girl higher, he looked straight at Jung Yeonshin.

“Young warrior! A blue robe of the Desolate Fortress at your age—you must think nothing in this world is worth fearing! All the more so with that emblem on your shoulder! The Fortress Master’s direct disciple, are you? I can see just how drunk you are on honor and status!”

“... Aren’t you the one who’s blind? Holding an obviously innocent commoner like that.”

Jung Yeonshin tilted his head slightly as he spoke.

He was already gauging the distance. Too far. The man was highly trained. Even Chung Myung, whose movements were faster than his own, could not rush him and save the girl in time.

Hwangbo Majun smirked.

“The Hwangbo bloodline always acts for a greater cause. What would half-baked martial artists living off government stipends know? You Desolate Fortress dogs, so eager to lop off the heads of martial artists, have crawled all the way into Jinan.”

“Did you just say a greater cause?”

Jung Yeonshin looked between Hwangbo Majun and the girl with slightly upturned eyes. His gaze asked the question he left unspoken: Have you no shame?

Hwangbo Majun thrust his chest out farther.

“Murim’s greater cause is lofty and pure. You are nothing but ruffians splashing filth over the martial world. Interfere no more in the world of those who seek enlightenment through martial arts.”

“...”

He had heard of people like this. This was a world where culture and ideas did not circulate freely, especially in Murim. Eccentric, single-minded people abounded. The pursuit of martial arts was a solitary path of training. That, people said, was why the martial world’s reclusive eccentrics caused such upheaval whenever they finally emerged.

The man was holding a hostage while preaching chivalry. The teachings of Confucius and Mencius would get nowhere with him.

Of course, the Desolate Fortress did not address martial artists through the principles of the Four Books and Three Classics either. It simply put them to the sword.

‘The Hwangbo clan must be even worse. They call themselves the royal house of Jinan, or something like that. They’ve consolidated their power by gathering their blood relatives around them.’

His thoughts were cut short when Hwangbo Majun shook the hand gripping the girl’s scruff and spoke again.

“Your notion of chivalry is utterly alien. Whenever someone breaks imperial law, you swarm in and cut off their heads. Were there no chivalrous souls among those you sent to the next world? Let me tell you this girl’s story.”

“Go ahead.”

As he answered, Jung Yeonshin circulated his core energy. Standing there with apparent composure, he prepared his overlapping chain form. He hoped the wave of force from the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike’s Burst Discharge could knock the man off balance.

“This child’s grandfather was a man named Dan Muhyu. He served as magistrate of Pingyin County before that magistrate took office.”

The girl could only stare wide-eyed, but her jaw seemed to tighten. Hwangbo Majun continued without concern.

“An upright man, straight as bamboo. He fearlessly confronted an unorthodox martial artist who was threatening commoners in the marketplace. I hear he invoked the Great Ming Code and thundered that he would throw the man into the government prison.”

He grinned.

“One palm strike burst his belly and sent him flying. That unorthodox fool knew nothing of the world either. He must have thought he could simply flee with his lightness skill, but he faced the wrath of our main house, which had intended to maintain order in Jinan together with the magistrate. And so we avenged this child.”

“You’re playing her benefactor while holding her by the neck?”

“She is extraordinarily gifted. She accumulated a considerable amount of qi with nothing more than the Three Powers Heart Method. It would be a waste for her to die here, but I have always wanted to see the true face of your Desolate Fortress. She is the granddaughter of a former magistrate who governed this county with great virtue. What will you do with her?”

“Mmph! Mmmph!”

The girl groaned and squirmed faintly. She seemed to have undone a little of the pressure-point sealing herself. He had said she was gifted at qi accumulation; perhaps she truly did possess an innate feel for controlling qi.

“Well, look at that.”

Hwangbo Majun glanced at her with newfound interest, then raised his hand high. The girl dangled from it.

“Withdraw now, and this child lives. You will also prove the Desolate Fortress’s chivalry, its claim to protect all people from Murim. But if you refuse...”

His eyes swept over those before him. Did he mean that he could no longer tolerate the Desolate Fortress throwing its weight around? His face seemed to betray disgust as he went on curtly.

“Never speak of the people’s welfare again. The Hwangbo clan maintains order in Jinan. You pathetic, half-baked heroes.”

“Every word is true!”

The magistrate was smiling now as he voiced his agreement.

“How much longer must we listen to this?”

Jung Yeonshin spoke abruptly. At the same moment, pitch-black smoke rose from beneath the back of Hwangbo Majun’s head.

“What...!”

Baek Miryeo stood behind him, her face cold. Black currents enveloped her like flames rising from the abyss. A light as dark as the night sky filled her eyes.

Her hand slid upward. In stark contrast, it had turned as white as snow, and it closed around the back of Hwangbo Majun’s neck. He could not even resist.

Her blue Desolate Fortress sleeves fluttered amid tangible, ink-black core energy. Though her uniform was the same as theirs, it looked different on her. It evoked the black robes of a celestial maiden, as though the Mystic Lady of the Nine Heavens had descended from legend.

Baek Miryeo’s lips moved.

“One of the Eight Great Families, aren’t you? How sordid.”

Her voice was low.

She had subdued him utterly, slowing his reactions with her mysterious qi before sealing his paralysis point in a single move. Apparently, he had never been an elite warrior of the main house at all, merely someone assigned to watch the branch family.

Chung Myung smiled broadly.

“The Radiant Demon Squad, heavenly squad, and Annihilation Squad have gone to your main house. Your clan is probably being wiped out as we speak. The captains will have smashed it to pieces.”

“Wh-what?”

The instant the magistrate froze, Jung Yeonshin spun. As naturally as a leaf riding a gentle spring breeze, he turned and swept past the magistrate. At the end of that fleeting movement technique waited the Desolate Sword. Its blade flashed cold beneath his hand.

SLASH!

Jung Yeonshin felt it clearly through his grip. The sensation of slicing flesh and cutting through bone announced the mission’s end.

“...!”

Had she tried to call him lowborn once more? The Artisan Swordsmaiden Hwangbo Mimi’s lips had formed that shape. It was futile. Her mouth twisted in horror, and her head dropped.

“The Desolate Fortress does not negotiate with traitors.”

Jung Yeonshin spoke as he looked down at the Artisan Swordsmaiden’s head.

The magistrate belatedly turned and reached out in fury. There was no sound. A gleaming blade burst through his abdomen. Chung Myung’s Desolate Sword had pierced him from behind.

“I-I should end like...”

“We’ve only been here a short while, but I’m already sick of you.”

Even while killing a man, Chung Myung’s voice remained clear and fresh. Those were likely the last words the magistrate heard. The wave of force Chung Myung released through his sword was brutal. Bloody tears welled in the eyes of the corpse impaled through the belly. His insides seemed to have been utterly destroyed.

‘Chung Myung can be ruthless, but not usually to that extent.’

Had he become all the more merciless because the man was one of his own people?

It was not over. Jung Yeonshin looked back, his eyes widening.

“G-gah.”

A sinister chill wafted from Baek Miryeo’s snow-white hand, still gripping Hwangbo Majun’s nape. At the same instant, his neck snapped as easily as crumbling ice.

“Ah!”

The captive girl somehow landed without falling on her backside. With that small cry, silence settled over the estate.

Sunset had arrived before they knew it. The sunlight cast a hazy glow, as though slowly drawing darkness over itself and retiring to bed. A bleak wind blowing through the martial world flicked past the leaves of the ash tree beside the pond.

The affair had come to a close. The magistrate and the Artisan Swordsmaiden were dead. The Hwangbo branch’s warriors had been annihilated as well. The cleanup was not the blue robes’ responsibility. The Desolate Fortress would send people.

With the Desolate Sword sheathed, Jung Yeonshin walked past the Dan girl. He wanted to say something to this girl his own age who had been through such an ordeal. Without stopping, he spoke slowly.

“You have a gift for martial arts.”

“Huh?”

The girl whipped her head around, but Jung Yeonshin did not look back.

Baek Miryeo was smiling faintly, the tangible black core energy already gone. Her eyes, once entirely ink-black, had regained their whites and dark pupils. Only her snow-white hands remained unchanged. She reached out and stroked Jung Yeonshin’s head. Along with that cool touch, her soft sleeve brushed his ear.

“The Desolate Fortress is not a sect that preaches chivalry. If you wish to become a chivalrous hero, one day you will be hurt.”

“... Thank you for the advice.”

Jung Yeonshin answered with his eyes gently closed. Whatever else had happened, this mission was a success. He had earned another major distinction. With the captains personally attacking the Hwangbo main house, there would be no opening for his party to intervene there.

Just then, a bird flew in as though it had been waiting for the affair to end. Every strand of its sky-blue plumage gleamed as it settled on Chung Myung’s finger. It seemed to be a spirit beast. It was different from the one the Hwangbo clan’s second young master had used. A mysterious fragrance emanated from its tiny body.

Chung Myung untied the small message fastened to its leg.

“Did Shin Sobin write this? The writing is packed in tight.”

He immediately unfolded the message and scanned it, tilting his head slightly.

“Has something happened?” Jung Yeonshin asked calmly.

“No. It isn’t from the group attacking the main house.”

“Then...?”

“Well, the white robes were holding those rising generation disciples from the Dragon-Phoenix Summit, remember? Their families must have pulled out all the stops. It seems they finally found them.”

“Their location?”

“Right. Apparently they fought the Blood Flame Cult too. There were three battles: martial clans, the Blood Flame Cult, then martial clans again. It says they suffered a crushing defeat while reorganizing their lines. Even Heon Wonchang was taken prisoner.”