"It's Dan Jeongjeong!"

He learned the girl's name on his way out of Pingyin County.

Dan Jeongjeong had had her pressure points sealed by a martial artist and been seized by the scruff of her neck. She was a commoner. Anyone would have worried about lingering harm.

Jung Yeonshin had been privately concerned, but there was no need. She was perfectly composed after her release. Even the carnage the Radiant Demon Squad had wrought could not shake her strong spirit.

"Did you know tofu skin dried in spring tastes wonderful?"

She kept treating Jung Yeonshin, who was her age, with warm familiarity and offering him dried tofu skin. He took only one bite before leaving Pingyin County.

They would likely never meet again. With talent and strength of mind like hers, he thought she would do well.

"Our Lightning Genius would make the finest husband."

Was he trying to repeat the teasing at the Heavenly Sword Clan?

Chung Myung spoke with a broad smile, but this time no one answered. Back then, he and Heon Wonchang had bantered back and forth. Not now.

WHOOSH!

They began running the moment they left Pingyin County. The three blue-robed Radiant Demon Squad experts scattered streams of wind as they raced with their lightness skills.

Their destination had been decided the instant the message arrived. Unlike his seniors with their deep reserves of power, Jung Yeonshin needed a fine horse from a post station to travel long distances.

Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo said they, too, preferred using the post roads to conserve internal energy.

An untimely sandstorm swept over the main road. The earthen dust spreading beside and behind them spoke of their urgency.

Jung Yeonshin asked as he kicked off the ground alongside his two companions.

"Are those martial families strong enough to defeat five white robes? Most sects shouldn't have posed a problem, unless they were among the Nine Great Sects or Eight Great Families. Though the earlier battle with the Blood Flame Cult must have taken its toll..."

The faster their lightness skills carried them, the fiercer the wind. He had to infuse his voice with core energy.

Chung Myung's reply came with the same distinctive hum of internal energy.

"They couldn't use their full strength. That's obvious, since some were taken alive."

Jung Yeonshin let out a brief sigh. Chung Myung's words immediately brought something to mind: the moment he had demonstrated his sword song while requesting a solo mission.

He understood now what shaking the brain could do to an expert's fighting ability.

"Because of the aftereffects of my sound technique..."

"Because those white-robed kids' martial arts weren't good enough. If you're weaker than your enemy, you have no choice but to leave your fate in their hands. That's the martial world."

Chung Myung's words were cold. Running beside them with her usual impassive expression, Baek Miryeo spoke.

"Whatever the reason, this falls to the blue robes to resolve. We must split up at the post station. The main force has no men to spare. Destroying one of the Eight Great Families is no small undertaking. We have to do this ourselves."

"You said they headed down to Southern Zhili? The blood fiends."

"There are several routes we need to consider. About four," Chung Myung said.

As a member of the Desolate Fortress's noble race, he carried a treasure in his head: a map of the Central Plains said to be more valuable than most secret martial manuals.

It was a privilege on par with those of the Black Captains. Jung Yeonshin, who was taught only the local geography for each mission, was different.

"The Blood Flame Cult. Martial clans."

Jung Yeonshin fell silent after repeating their enemies' names.

He remembered when he had just passed the desolate fortress trial and joined. A scholar from the Command Bureau had explained that, although the Desolate Fortress was called the imperial family's sword, martial artists who harmed its warriors were not guilty of treason.

Its warriors did not belong to the imperial household. The reason, he had said, lay in their enemies' lightness skills and movement techniques.

Early in the dynasty's founding, there had been cases where the court proclaimed that a traitor's nine degrees of kin would be exterminated, only to fail to capture the culprit.

Equating affairs of state with the suppression of martial artists left ample room for the imperial family's dignity to suffer.

A question suddenly occurred to Jung Yeonshin.

"Still, isn't the Desolate Fortress the greatest power in the martial world? What gave those clans the confidence to ambush us?"

"One of two things. We're rather ruthless, aren't we? They must have thought their children wouldn't come back unharmed. What wouldn't a parent do after losing all reason? Though some family heads may have given up on their children."

"And the other?"

"They know. They know the Desolate Fortress has no strength to spare."

"Hmm."

"That sort of insight gets our warriors killed far from home. Two kinds of sects can oppose the Desolate Fortress: small and middling sects that think their little world is everything, and great factions that keep abreast of the wider world."

"Only the ones in between can't touch us," Chung Myung muttered.

Jung Yeonshin studied the face of the man who had spoken of dying far from home. His handsome features were expressionless.

This was a senior known to have a bright future. Even when he went around saying that people died because they deserved to, no one reproached him.

It was unfamiliar to see him quietly angry beneath such a calm exterior.

Chung Myung spoke again.

"There are seventeen combat units under the Divine Sword Squad, right? Our Radiant Demon Squad is among the strongest of them. We're often compared to the finest elites of the Nine Great Sects, like the Plum Blossom Swordsmen. The problem is that number, seventeen. It's painfully awkward."

Just then, Baek Miryeo slipped soundlessly closer and stroked Jung Yeonshin's head.

She seemed to have acquired a taste for it ever since he had called her his elder sister during the Purple Radiance Pill mission. Her touch was cool and gentle. Even at their racing pace, her hand never wavered.

Rubbing her fingers deep through his hair, she spoke.

"The problem is having to watch over the entire Central Plains. Governing a martial world the size of fifteen or sixteen small countries? It's an absurd duty. We're always short-handed."

"Any sect with reasonably quick access to news and a little insight knows that. They aren't easily frightened."

Chung Myung added this as he began increasing his speed. The wind battered their ears more fiercely.

Jung Yeonshin fed more core energy into the Yongquan points beneath his feet and spoke.

"This mission will have quite an impact, then. We've diverted forces we couldn't spare to destroy one of the Eight Great Families."

"Exactly. It's unlikely to happen again."

They already treated the Hwangbo clan's destruction as a foregone conclusion.

It was not merely because they had witnessed the strength of the three combat units at close quarters. They had done their part in the mission. Their minds were elsewhere now.

Jung Yeonshin spoke cautiously.

"... I don't understand why they took them away instead of killing them. Do you think he's still alive? Young Master Heon."

"Normally, it would have ended in death. If you've defeated a Desolate Fortress warrior, you kill them to silence them. Who would leave them alive? That's why taking prisoners is different. They must have a purpose," Chung Myung replied.

Three white-robed warriors, including Heon Wonchang, had been captured. It had not been the work of the orthodox martial clans.

They only needed to recover their children; there was no reason to invite further trouble. The report said the Blood Flame Cult had taken them.

"What purpose?"

At Jung Yeonshin's question, Baek Miryeo's black eyes flicked toward him. Chung Myung's blue eyes did the same.

"I suspect they're the ones who've been pursuing you since the Dragon-Phoenix Summit. Their route connects."

"The captured white robes may be nothing more than a means to an end. Could the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike be the issue? It looks like they're determined to kill you, whatever it takes."

It made sense. These men had even deployed Thunderclap Bombs. His seniors' conjectures struck home.

'If I create more martial arts to neutralize the likes of the Thirteen Skies...'

The words killing to silence someone came to Jung Yeonshin's mind.

Yet it was difficult to be certain they had done all this solely to target the Desolate Fortress's Lightning Genius. That was why the party needed to split up and scour northern Southern Zhili.

They arrived at the post station while discussing their routes. Officials also stopped there to sleep during their travels.

They lightly vaulted over its broad roof and landed below. As the youngest, Jung Yeonshin stepped forward and showed his Desolate Fortress plaque to the caretaker, who jolted awake from a nodding doze.

"It's genuine! Take them!"

Jung Yeonshin immediately borrowed a horse and mounted, lost in thought.

They could use the nation's post stations this easily, yet they did not belong to the imperial household. The privileges allowing the Black Captains and Chung Myung to kill officials were much the same.

'The Great Ming Code means nothing. So many things stand above the law.'

The world was complicated, but this was no time to dwell on it. They had to separate at once.

"Finding the white robes comes first, but don't get caught in a war between factions. The Namgoong clan is at war with the Blood Flame Cult. Those unorthodox bastards spread a Heaven-and-Earth Net in Huizhou, right in their own backyard. Of course they'd be furious."

His tone was light. Chung Myung winked, his legs stretched casually atop his horse.

Jung Yeonshin was accustomed to listening closely to his seniors. Even when their words did not sound important at first, he took every one as something directly tied to his life and accomplishments.

"Since the blood fiends captured them, they should remain alive for ten days. Those creatures steal core energy through their Blood Art. Warriors of our fortress are rare prey."

Baek Miryeo spoke as she mounted her fine horse with an elegant movement. She flicked back the ebony hair falling below her ear and looked at Jung Yeonshin, concern in her black-jade eyes.

"What are you worrying about? The destruction of the Hwangbo branch will be recorded among Lightning Genius's accomplishments. He's more than qualified for a solo mission."

Chung Myung smiled and gestured with his chin.

It was time to part.

Jung Yeonshin gave a brief clasped-hand salute from horseback and whipped his mount onward without looking back. One mission followed immediately upon another.

He had been told that rescuing comrades would also count as an accomplishment. That meant little to him.

At this moment, accomplishments were not what his heart spoke of.

He hoped Heon Wonchang would remain safe until the day he was called the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior.

* * *

Jung Yeonshin headed south from Pingyin County. Southern Zhili lay immediately ahead.

Chung Myung's spirit beast fulfilled its role as a messenger pigeon. The blue-robed experts who had finished their missions agreed to spread out across vast Southern Zhili.

They had an abiding confidence in their martial strength. Their rank allowed them to speak of solo missions.

Reinforcements would inevitably be slow. Huguang, where the Desolate Fortress itself stood, was too far away. The force sent against the Hwangbo clan would have to resolve this.

'What a splendid city.'

He had been assigned Xuzhou in Southern Zhili.

Five days had passed since he parted from his blue-robed seniors of Radiant Demon Team One. He had been showing his Desolate Fortress plaque to county magistrates at their offices, asking about suspicious-looking people.

He was told there were Blood Flame cultists roaming the cities, declaring they feared nothing under heaven. Such was the might of the unorthodox Thirteen Skies.

He heard that even when soldiers went out to apprehend the cultists, they simply escaped with nimble movement techniques. Sometimes they instead emitted waves of qi and threatened the soldiers.

As the cult's influence grew, the blood fiends grew more arrogant. Their actions in Huizhou, disregarding the Namgoong clan, were proof enough.

The discipline peculiar to their heretical cult was reportedly giving way to lawlessness.

The time Baek Miryeo had estimated was steadily dwindling. He was in a hurry.

Jung Yeonshin stood before what was said to be the city's largest pleasure house. Lanterns hung above and below its entrance, blazing in five brilliant colors.

'If the ones here aren't them... '

For now, he cleared his mind.

Xuzhou was a large city. The warriors guarding the door seemed to have a useful knowledge of the martial world. They recognized the character for "desolate" in Desolate Fortress.

"Desolate? That Desolate?"

"When he's that young?"

The five men wavered in confusion. Ignoring them, Jung Yeonshin pushed the doors wide open.

CLATTER!

The antique wooden doors swung apart, revealing an orange-lit interior.

He had heard that the ground floor of such enormous pleasure houses was a place for guests to socialize.

Many eyes swept over Jung Yeonshin at once. He could feel energy in their gazes. Every one of them belonged to the martial world.

"Who might that child be?"

"Desolate? Is he pretending to be from the Desolate Fortress?"

"Boy! There are better ways to show off your reckless courage!"

"And in blue, no less!"

Raucous laughter erupted.

All sorts of people sat amid the lantern light beyond the windows that drove back the dusk.

Xuzhou in Southern Zhili was said to have an unusually large number of small and middling martial families. That was because the Namgoong clan, whose influence reached across all Southern Zhili, lay to the south. This was orthodox territory.

There seemed to be at least fifty people, their complexions varying from drunken red to the clear color of sober skin.

"I've never seen anyone like him."

"Tell us your sect!"

Armed women smiled at Jung Yeonshin, utterly relaxed in their seats.

Now that he looked, there were few courtesans. It seemed to be because women from martial families were present as well.

The place was being used as a banquet hall.

Xuzhou's finest pleasure house was indeed lavish, its luxurious furnishings touched with elegance. It was a fitting place for men and women of the martial world to socialize, regardless of age.

He had not seen so many martial artists gathered since the great battle between the Tyrant Sword Tribe and the Zhongnan Sect.

The sight felt unfamiliar to Jung Yeonshin.

STEP.

He took a step forward. The small, otherwise unremarkable footfall carried a strange power.

Something that reached beyond hearing into energy detection drew their gazes. He was releasing his presence.

"..."

With each step, silence began to settle around him.

A blue-robed expert of the Desolate Fortress.

His waves of qi compelled silence even without conscious intent.

Those who had been calling out fell quiet. Swelling questions and silent astonishment spread.

Jung Yeonshin walked straight ahead. He could see men rising one by one in a corner.

Though all of them had black hair, he sensed them immediately. His mastery of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike grew by the day. He was becoming acutely sensitive to sinister core energy.

"So there's a branch here," he said.

He knew from the strength of their qi waves. One Blood Master Swordsman and five Blood Flame cultists.

"You're like fire ants. You must have branches everywhere. You can't be the only ones."

He did not slow his steps as he spoke.

The young man grinning with apparent confidence in his martial strength was the Blood Master Swordsman. He looked like a young nobleman, without a single scar on his face.

Still smiling, he spoke.

"So you're the one? Blessings come to those who never neglect their offerings! This will bring me one step into the realm of an Apostle!"

Jung Yeonshin ignored him and spoke.

"You want to kill the wielder of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike."

The instant he circulated the formula interwoven with Buddhist teachings, a refreshing energy drove out the pleasure house's smell of liquor.

Pure, deep waves of qi began spreading from his right hand, held at a downward angle. A soft blue radiance encircled his straightened knife-hand.

It remained wholly blue, untouched by the sunset glow of the surrounding lanterns.

"You bastard!"

A sinister presence exploded from the Blood Master Swordsman's body. His fingertips blurred as he snatched the sword hilt at his waist.

He drew and slashed upward as though blood were bursting forth. The wave of force from his sword surged in an instant, fierce as a tempest.

His attainment was sufficient to justify mentioning the rank of Blood Flame Cult Apostle.

Jung Yeonshin also struck downward with the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike. His combat path was clear. A smooth smile formed on his opponent's lips.

He seemed intent on severing the hand aimed at his head.

BOOM!

It was the sound of destruction, not collision. The gale of martial force pouring from the man's sword was crushed outright.

Halfway through the move, Jung Yeonshin shattered the entire wave of qi and smashed the sword to pieces.

He followed the straight combat path all the way down. The instantaneous move reached completion at the man's head.

THWACK!

Jung Yeonshin felt it through the edge of his hand. It had sunk very deep. Amid fragments of blue martial force, the crown of the man's head caved in.

"..."

The man collapsed, brushing his shoulder. His face still wore its smile.

Four more Blood Flame cultists stood behind him. Had they intended to charge together?

Their expressions were difficult to describe. They stood awkwardly, unable to attack.

Their branch leader had died in a single move.

Even the martial artists who had sprung to their feet, seemingly sensing the Blood Flame Cult's distinctive qi waves, remained speechless for a moment.

"Spread the word," Jung Yeonshin said.

"Lightning Genius of the Radiant Demon Squad is here."

With those blunt words, he shook his hand once. His blue sleeve fluttered.