Many had gathered at the commotion. Everyone following Jung Yeonshin and wiji myohwa had learned lightness skills, allowing them to witness the two experts' deeds, even if they arrived a little late.

Jung Yeonshin paid them no mind. All his attention was devoted to rescuing Heon Wonchang. He was utterly focused. Never before had he been so glad of the upper dantian in his head, which seemed to blaze with light. Only when they reached the hall did he find a moment to catch his breath.

"I heard you had earned your blue robes, but..."

wiji myohwa spoke. She had been visibly astonished by Jung Yeonshin's Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike and the change in his waves of force. He kept displaying martial arts and finesse he had not possessed when he fought the Tyrant Sword Tribe on Mount Zhongnan.

Not even half a year had passed. Seeing him again, she felt that even saying he deserved to be seen in a new light fell short. Surely there ought to be a limit to how much someone's abilities could improve while out of sight.

"So you truly weren't a white-robed warrior merely wearing blue robes. You have become a fully fledged blue-robed warrior now, Young Master?"

"Yes," Jung Yeonshin replied, taking a long stride forward.

wiji myohwa sighed inwardly. Thanks to the Zhongnan Sword Immortal, she knew how short his life would be.

'Like a flame.'

She had never heard of anyone advancing so quickly, even someone whose life was destined to end early. He alone walked through time at a different pace. She had heard of a young martial talent bringing Demonic Path masters to their knees in distant Xinjiang. Yet Jung Yeonshin could hardly be using sinister arts like that man in the rumors.

She resolved to be surprised no longer. Having understood the vastness of the world early in life, she had earned the title Sword Dragon. She had even overcome the inner demon Jung Yeonshin had stirred in her. She harbored none of the envy or disbelief anyone might feel. With clear eyes, she gazed at him beside her.

"Only now do I hear this wonderful news."

Her face was beautiful with its faint smile. Walking beside him, she continued.

"I only regret that the timing and our circumstances allow me no more than words of congratulations. Let us share a drink with Young Master Heon."

"... Thank you."

Jung Yeonshin expressed his gratitude calmly. Her words gave him strength. Heon Wonchang would be alive. Soon, they stood before the hall.

Clenching his fist, he put the formula of the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike into practice. He sensed many presences inside. Innocent people might still be alive in there. However unrestrained his actions appeared, he had to destroy the gate and nothing more.

'No.'

His brows drew together. The qi waves brushing his skin felt strange. It was as though a chilling tension held its breath within. Even the scent of blood seemed to seep out.

This was different from the previous sites. Beside him, wiji myohwa seemed to notice something amiss as well. As her lips tightened slightly, Jung Yeonshin felt the foresight of his upper dantian scatter without a trace.

THUD!

There was no time to waste. He first stamped his foot. The wave of force of Infinite Blossom Fist Strike's Formidable Wall surged explosively up from his toes. The instant the swiftly accumulated power of Burst Discharge gathered in his fist, he thrust out his arm.

BOOM!

A fierce gust erupted, swept along by the wave of force. The brief sensation of wood against his knuckles was driven away in an instant. Jung Yeonshin and wiji myohwa rushed through the shattered fragments, their eyes widening.

"What the—!"

"What now!"

Two groups of people started in alarm. They appeared to have split into factions, each keeping the other in check. The blood fiends with crimson hair stood closer to Jung Yeonshin. Across from them, people who seemed to be prisoners waited in hushed silence. For some reason, they were unbound and facing off against the Blood Flame Cult.

Heon Wonchang stood at their head. His skin had grown dry and rough, and he wore an expression Jung Yeonshin had never seen before. His handsome face was twisted like an evil spirit's.

At his feet lay a corpse whose blood-red hair still had a few black strands mixed through it. A Blood Master Swordsman. He had likely been the leader of this Blood Flame Cult branch.

Heon Wonchang held a dagger he seemed to have wrested from the cultists. His opening stance with the weapon in a reverse grip looked quite practiced. Blood drenched the blade. He appeared to have hacked the swordsman at his feet to pieces.

'He pushed himself too far.'

Jung Yeonshin could tell at once.

The Blood Flame Cult was an unorthodox faction that stole core energy. They would never destroy an energy core. That must have allowed Heon Wonchang to force his sealed pressure points open and retaliate. But it was no easy feat. Tearing apart another person's core energy lodged in the body's pressure points on the spot? Anyone with knowledge of internal arts would call it madness.

He must have suffered tremendous internal injuries. They might even be beyond recovery—so severe that, after killing a Blood Master Swordsman, he could not deal with a handful of ordinary cultists.

'They must have posed a threat to each other.'

It was easy to guess how long the standoff had lasted. The commoners huddled behind Heon Wonchang kept drawing their legs in and stretching them out again.

"There's another great hero over there."

Someone spoke. The martial artists who had followed Jung Yeonshin and wiji myohwa were peering inside. There were dozens of them. The Blood Flame cultists stood frozen, unable even to open their mouths.

"Hm?"

Just how absorbed had he been in keeping the enemy in check? Despite Jung Yeonshin smashing the gate, Heon Wonchang only now seemed to come to his senses. Their eyes met.

"Huh...?"

The expression with which he had glared at the cultists like a murderous demon changed abruptly. His face went blank, as though he had lost his wits.

"H-how did you get here so quickly?"

Those were Heon Wonchang's first words.

* * *

Every Blood Flame Cult branch in Xuzhou was wiped out. As dawn broke, the title Great Hero of Desolate Fortress began to circulate. It was an epithet praising Heon Wonchang. Dozens of Xuzhou martial artists had witnessed him protecting the commoners despite his battered body.

It was different from Jung Yeonshin's powerful martial arts. Many called Lightning Genius of Desolate Fortress a great hero as well, but Heon Wonchang was honored purely for his chivalry, not his strength.

"Destroying the Blood Flame Cult counts as a major achievement in Desolate Fortress, doesn't it? Since the imperial court has declared it an evil cult."

wiji myohwa sat with Jung Yeonshin at a table in the inn. She smiled faintly.

"With so many witnesses to your achievements, this affair should be recorded in full as well. I can also testify on your behalf."

"Thank you."

Jung Yeonshin's reply was brief. His heart was heavy.

Heon Wonchang's internal injuries were severe. Last night, he had fainted the moment he gave Jung Yeonshin a faint smile. When Jung Yeonshin took his pulse and examined his condition, he could not suppress a groan. The fine meridians throughout his body had suffered terrible damage.

'He might never be able to practice martial arts again.'

After carefully studying his expression, wiji myohwa spoke.

"Young Master Jung, you seem to have a reason you must pay particular attention to earning merit with your school. Am I right?"

"... You are."

Jung Yeonshin answered slowly. He could tell her this much. They had not been friends long, but he had felt the depth of Sword Dragon's character. Many in the fortress, including the Radiant Demon Squad, already knew about it. Even if he concealed his constitution, he could not fully hide his fixation on earning merit.

"There may be a way to restore Young Master Heon's health while also earning merit for Desolate Fortress."

As wiji myohwa spoke, Jung Yeonshin leaned toward her. She did not draw away, but continued.

"Our sect fought the Tyrant Sword Tribe for quite some time. Quite a few disciples suffered internal injuries like his. After a month or so, he will no longer be able to use his martial arts, but even a middling spirit medicine would change matters."

"Spirit medicine..."

"Ever since the Dragon-Phoenix Summit fell apart, the Namgoong clan and the Blood Flame Cult have been fighting a major conflict. Enough to call it a war. And the Namgoong clan is the closest major faction to Xuzhou. They are here in Southern Zhili as well."

Wisdom shone in wiji myohwa's eyes. Sword Dragon's experience of the martial world poured forth, carrying hope on the breath that brushed the tip of Jung Yeonshin's nose.

"Do them a great service. Among the Eight Great Families, the Namgoong clan is renowned as a martial clan of unrivaled uprightness. They will repay the favor without fail. There is only one question."

She continued, "Whether your martial arts are strong enough."

"..."

Show chivalry through martial prowess, and chivalry would be returned in kind. wiji myohwa had spoken of the very essence of the martial world.

'They're fighting the Namgoong clan? The Blood Flame Cult must be committing tremendous strength too.'

Annihilating them would earn Jung Yeonshin personal merit. Now, there was another benefit.

Earn enough distinction in battle for the Namgoong clan to consider it a debt, and receive a spirit pill in return? It would be exceedingly difficult. But he had no other option. Lightning Genius of the Radiant Demon Squad had decided on his next destination: from Xuzhou to Huizhou.

"Obtaining a spirit pill from another school... An ordinary achievement will not suffice."

Jung Yeonshin spoke quietly.

One martial art immediately came to mind: his sword song. At the Hwangbo branch estate, he had lost three days of his lifespan. He had decided to seal it away until his mastery of internal-energy circulation approached that of a black-robed expert. He had made that decision firmly, knowing that repeated exceptions might gradually leave him unable to restrain himself.

'This is the last time.'

Jung Yeonshin made an inward vow. He reached his decision because he could both restore Heon Wonchang's martial arts and earn merit for annihilating the Blood Flame Cult. This would be his last sword song before reaching the realm of the captains.

The main force sent against the Hwangbo clan would still be in Shandong. The Eight Great Families held vast territories. Dealing with the main house and a few branches alone could hardly be called wiping out a clan.

'I'll only send word to the blue-robed seniors who have come down to Southern Zhili. I can leave a message at a government office.'

Given Heon Wonchang's injuries, even waiting for them to join him was a luxury.

Jung Yeonshin decided to begin by revising his martial art right there. Still seated, he immediately sank into meditation.

'The sword song's lethal range is separate from the reach of the sword resonance.'

With the power of his upper dantian, his mind began dismantling the formula piece by piece.

'I just need to limit the emitted core energy so it doesn't spread as far as the sword's sound. Even if I can't select individual targets, I should be able to define a rough area.'

He placed his awareness upon the lightning ceaselessly flashing through his mind. He became wholly absorbed. It was a world no one else could fathom.

"Young Master?"

Even wiji myohwa's questioning voice swiftly faded from his inner world.

* * *

A long gorge lay along the boundary between Huizhou and Chizhou. It was called Clear Night Valley. It was said that, during the founding of the dynasty, a peerless expert of the noble race had fought some evil spirit there, lighting the night with sword radiance.

Now it was broad daylight. The blazing sun shone indifferently upon the blood spattering everywhere.

CLANG! BOOM!

Tremendous sword force collided, and stamping feet shook the ground on every side. Hundreds of crimson-haired martial artists clashed with warriors clad in blue. The battle line stretched so far that it scarcely resembled a conflict between martial sects.

"That Apostle bastard. He refuses to make a move."

Amid it all, the place where the Namgoong clan's leaders stood carried an air of old-world refinement. It was removed from the urgency of the front. The distinctive bearing of an eminent house remained unbroken even on the battlefield, flowing with aloof dignity.

"How long must we stand by?"

The young man standing with the clan elders asked the question. His eyes sloped gently downward, lending him a kind appearance. He was the Namgoong clan's heir.

He had already drawn his sword. His martial robes, woven from luxurious blue silk, suited him perfectly. His looks and martial skill were so outstanding that the people of the martial world called him the Blue Qilin.

"The Blood Master Swordsmen and two Apostles are waiting for an opening. Do not act rashly."

The Namgoong clan head spoke with his back to them, dressed in snow-white robes.

"Our people can handle the ordinary cultists even without us. As the young clan head, you must remember this. Victory is not the central concern when the clan goes to battle. Devote yourself to safeguarding the lives of our family."

"He's right. We have to strike back the moment their true experts step in if we want to keep casualties down."

His irritating younger sister supported their father's words.

How could the mere sight of her peeking out her bronze face be so infuriating? Blue Qilin Namgoong Sejin gritted his teeth.

"The warriors dying right now are our family."

His voice escaped between his white teeth. This time, even his sister had no reply.

"Remember the resolve you showed when you cast Hwashin out. As the head of a clan, do not let individuals occupy your thoughts."

The clan head's tone did not change.

The fighting grew fiercer, yet the enemy leadership still did not step forward. Those bastards standing atop a peak beside the gorge, looking down in arrogant composure, were unbearably galling. Two Apostles and thirty Blood Master Swordsmen. Despite their formidable strength, whenever the Namgoong clan's greatest experts challenged them, they withdrew, scrupulously maintaining their distance.

"How many days has it been? Do they mean to keep wearing us down?"

Namgoong Sejin bit his lip. His father, the clan head, must be deeply troubled too.

The Blood Flame Cult's strength was immense. Once, when a clan elder could no longer endure it and stepped forward, fifteen Blood Master Swordsmen had pushed into the battle line. It was mockery. A warning not to act recklessly. They were exploiting the weakness of a noble clan whose members were all blood relatives.

They seemed intent on overwhelming the clan with numbers before committing their experts, but the Namgoong clan had yet to find a suitable countermeasure. The fighting had continued for over a fortnight. Morale among the warriors on the front was poor, even though the clan's strongest experts remained unscathed.

Then it happened. Suddenly, the clan head and several elders turned their heads. Namgoong Sejin, whose five senses were unusually keen, did the same.

Something was rapidly approaching from behind the Blood Flame Cult's lines. From very far away.

WHOOOOM!

It gradually spread toward the gorge. Was it the cry of some enormous bird said to have roamed the skies in ancient times? A resonance began slowly, then spread with gathering speed. A sound no one had ever heard before arrived on the battlefield.