The glow of internal power in Jung Yeonshin’s eyes quickly faded. Parting his lips slightly, he let out a long breath.

A wave of qi spread from him once before dissipating. It seemed heavier by as much as his core energy had increased.

“An elite martial artist by anyone’s standards. If not for that boyish face.”

“All the more so with that body. Even in this fortress, few physiques are so well honed.”

Several seniors teased him, saying that regardless of his age, he was now beginning to carry himself like a true master of Murim.

“Thank you.”

Yeonshin gave a clasped-fist salute to those who had stood guard for him. These seniors had protected him as he practiced regulated breathing and circulation at the main training ground.

They gave him an attention he had never known at the Jeong Clan Estate. Their care was so great it could almost seem excessive, and he treasured it dearly.

“You don’t know how much stronger you’ve become? That can happen.”

Ma Jin spoke, studying the boy closely.

“That is how increases in internal power work. What you can perceive through contemplation isn’t the whole of it. You have to use your body to understand.”

Yeonshin spoke with the faintest smile.

“Will you spar with me?”

His tone had changed. There was a little more ease in it now. That was how he had come to address his uncle.

Ma Jin, too, seemed pleased to see his nephew opening his heart as time passed.

“That would be good, too... but say your farewells first, then follow me.”

Ma Jin turned and immediately started toward the exit of the main training ground.

After standing blankly for a moment, Yeonshin turned to his comrades.

“Getting instruction from the captain just before your mission, are you?”

“You can never hear too much advice.”

“You’re facing Namgoong, after all. Those bastards lay claim to being the greatest lay martial house under heaven.”

“Lightning Genius, come back in one piece.”

The Radiant Demon Squad masters behind him smiled as they offered their farewells.

They sounded almost as though they were saying, “See you tomorrow,” but that was how Desolate Fortress warriors always parted.

Missions weighed heavily. More than a few comrades never returned. That was why their send-offs were lighthearted.

‘Their own way of wishing us well.’

It meant they hoped his return would be as certain as daylight the next day. It was a custom of the Desolate Fortress. Yeonshin calmly offered a clasped-fist salute and shouldered the pack beside him.

“Young Master Jung!”

“Yes, Young Master Heon?”

Yeonshin looked at someone who was as unfamiliar with the fortress’s customs as he was.

Heon Wonchang was grinning broadly.

The blue hero’s headband tied around his forehead fluttered lightly behind his head. Anyone who didn’t know better might think he was the one setting off on a mission.

“Just finish the duels and come back this time. If you take too long again, I might already be wearing blue. Surely a fellow recruit ought to witness your promotion? As I did yours.”

“You, wearing blue? Isn’t it a little early, Young Master Heon?”

“I’ve been concealing seven-tenths of my martial prowess. You had better not drag those duels out, Young Master Jung.”

After exchanging a few silly jokes, Yeonshin turned away.

He began walking in silence. The training ground’s surface, gouged by the masters’ forceful stomps, felt particularly rough.

This was his first mission without anyone from the Radiant Demon Squad accompanying him. They had missions of their own to carry out.

‘They said deploying that much strength against the Hwangbo clan had stretched them too thin.’

He had learned only after returning that the expedition to annihilate the Hwangbo clan had been a difficult decision.

He had heard that they had scraped together scarce manpower to make an example of the clan.

Murim was a world overlaid upon the realm, and the Desolate Fortress was the martial organization that protected the administrative districts from its inhabitants.

Powerful though the Divine Sword Squad’s seventeen squads were, their numbers were very small when set against the whole Central Plains.

People who shared the ideal of securing the common people’s livelihoods, whom the fortress could trust.

Masters with the martial prowess to stand against powerful warriors of the martial world.

A fortress warrior had to be both. Such people were difficult to cultivate.

Many outsiders strong enough to pass the desolate fortress trial were rejected under the Desolate Fortress Master’s scrutiny. Their dispositions were said to be the problem.

‘The Desolate Fortress restricts the freedom of martial artists.’

It was a potential enemy of every martial organization in Murim. Against the martial world as a whole, the Desolate Fortress was a minority.

It was not that the fortress was small. The world was vast. The Central Plains were a chaotic land crowded with the Thirteen skies, the Nine Sects and Eight Families, and numerous mid-ranking sects.

“So that’s why Namgoong accepted the challenge so confidently.”

Having reached an enclosed stone chamber at the smaller training ground, Yeonshin faced Ma Jin.

“Yes. This is very different from the Hwangbo clan affair. For one thing, these are one-on-one duels, and they’re powerful enough to know a great deal about our circumstances. They believe the outcome is uncertain if we compete with only a select few. Namgoong is unmistakably stronger than Hwangbo. Strong enough to be called the greatest lay martial house under heaven among the orthodox factions.”

“...”

“I’ll have to visit Sichuan soon myself. Because of that Thunderclap Bomb that hurt you so badly. Information is circulating that the Sichuan Tang Clan is secretly manufacturing explosive bombs. The Command Bureau told me to investigate.”

“The Tang Clan... I’ve heard Sichuan’s martial world is dangerous. Isn’t it a place where even Radiant Demon Squad masters can’t be sure of surviving if they get caught up in its turmoil? They say it has the Sichuan Tang Clan, which contends for first place among the Eight Families, three of the Nine Great Sects, and three major factions of the Thirteen skies.”

Yeonshin tossed out the words with feigned nonchalance. He was speaking as a nephew.

At the end of the Yuan and the beginning of the Ming, supreme lightness-skill masters implicated in treason had easily shaken off the imperial warriors pursuing them and disappeared.

The incident had dealt a severe blow to the Ming imperial family’s dignity.

That was why the Desolate Fortress, which carried out missions in the martial world, was not publicly affiliated with the authorities.

Nowhere carried a greater burden of mission failure than Murim.

It meant that shrewd martial artists did not hesitate to kill Desolate Fortress warriors. Killing to silence a witness was the phrase for such occasions.

“I know what you mean. I’m more concerned about you.”

Ma Jin smiled faintly.

“I, the captain of the Radiant Demon Squad, survived without trouble until I reached black rank. This is no place for a blue-robed fledgling to worry about me.”

“Without trouble?”

That wasn’t true. He had reportedly lost his testicles on the mission to rescue Baek Miryeo when she was a girl.

Yeonshin glanced unwittingly at Ma Jin’s groin, then hurriedly looked away.

Ma Jin frowned and spoke as though he hadn’t noticed.

“You showed a new palm technique. In your duel with the White Qilin.”

“Yes. I’ve been refining it lately.”

Yeonshin recalled the combination of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike and the Demonic Asura Blood Art. It used a sorcerous formation to harness the repulsive force of two utterly opposed powers.

Its precision fell short of its astonishing power, and that had not been easy to change.

“The black-ranked masters who watched your duel that day would have grasped its strengths and weaknesses from a single move. The form lacks precision. Correct?”

“... Yes.”

“It’s good to see you admit it so readily. Let me offer some advice. What is the foundation of your martial arts at present?”

“The Movement Art.”

Yeonshin answered without hesitation.

“Yes. Gak jung, the little divine monk, said it was comparable to the Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic. If one of the Shaolin Eighteen Arhats acknowledged it as such, your Movement Art is indeed peerless. Haven’t you been neglecting that training lately? While filling your internal-energy reserves.”

“Ah.”

Yeonshin nodded. It was training he had never skipped at the Jeong Clan Estate.

Things like repeatedly squatting and standing with a log across his back while circulating core energy.

“I’ve already brought it to Great Completion, so I didn’t particularly...”

Yeonshin’s reply was brief.

“Great Completion...?”

The conversation stopped for a moment. As Ma Jin gazed down at him, Yeonshin waited silently.

“... Your qi pathways will be more durable than you imagine. I mean you can afford to be bold in experimenting with martial arts. You’re different from ordinary internal-energy masters. Your entire body is solidly built, so you needn’t worry too much about qi deviation.”

Ma Jin continued slowly.

“Every one of Shaolin’s seventy-two martial arts is renowned as a divine technique, but some sound bizarre when you hear how they’re trained. Burning Sand Palm and Iron Cloth Shirt, for instance. They plunge their hands into fire-heated sand and throw themselves off cliffs. They don’t worry about internal injuries while forging an unbreakable body. That’s because they’ve tempered their entire bodies with the Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic.”

“Your knowledge rivals Young Master Heon’s, Captain. To know Shaolin’s divine techniques in such detail...”

“Heon Wonchang?”

Ma Jin frowned once at Yeonshin’s joke, then shook his head.

“The point is, don’t worry about circulating power for your new palm technique. It should be enough to circulate your core energy without restraint and refine its precision. I know you’re absorbed in creating a mental cultivation method, but the palm technique will be more useful for the moment.”

“That certainly makes sense.”

Nodding, Yeonshin respectfully offered a clasped-fist salute.

“Thank you for the advice. It’s time I went.”

“... Yes. The swords of the Namgoong direct line are fearsome. Don’t let your guard down. Take their heads and come back.”

The long scar on Ma Jin’s face twitched. The movement seemed tinged with worry.

It was unlike a black-ranked master who must have spent so long living with the fortress’s customs.

“I’ll be back, Captain.”

Yeonshin bowed once and turned.

At the same time, he expanded his energy detection to check his preparations.

Desolate Sword, Northern Radiance, Thousand-year Silk martial robes, money pouch and pack... and his martial arts. He was now newly outfitted with them all.

His preparations were complete. It was time to set out on his mission.

* * *

On the road out through the fortress’s main gate, Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin and White Qilin Namgoong Hwashin walked along the government highway, each leading a horse.

The young blue-robed experts of the Desolate Fortress drew the eyes of passersby, but Yeonshin paid them no heed. The situation was too peculiar.

“Where did the two of them go?”

“All I heard was that they were given a mission to pass through another region first...”

Namgoong Hwashin shook his head as though at a loss.

“What?”

This was not how the mission had originally been assigned.

Yeonshin’s maternal grandfather Ma Yeonjeok and the fortress’s Elder Council Leader were supposed to accompany them as members of the dueling delegation.

The Divine Sword Squad Leader and the Divine Sword Unit were to join them along the way as a participant and escort respectively.

‘Until they join us, two rising-generation disciples are traveling alone?’

Yeonshin was somewhat dumbfounded. How long had it been since the Blood Flame Cult had hunted him?

It was strange that the fortress was leaving him exposed again. Could these be the Desolate Fortress Master’s orders?

‘They do say a journey through the martial world without hardship isn’t good for martial attainment, but...’

He asked,

“Do even the Elder Council Leader and the head of the desolate’s ma clan carry out missions?”

“I don’t know.”

Watching Namgoong Hwashin smile awkwardly, Yeonshin realized something anew.

The White Qilin had taken the desolate fortress trial with him.

Normally, they would still be at the bottom as white-robed warriors. It was hardly a stage at which one could know all the fortress’s affairs.

Their circumstances were the same. Sharpening his energy detection a little further, Yeonshin spoke.

“We should hurry. I’ve accumulated debts and grudges with quite a few of the Thirteen skies. One wrong turn could make us miss the deadline.”

“That sounds wise.”

Hwashin nodded readily, and they mounted together.

NEIGH!

They immediately spurred their fine horses onward. There was no need to discuss the route.

It was no longer unfamiliar to Yeonshin, and for Hwashin, their destination was home.

The wind of another beginning blew toward them. The strong breeze sweeping their faces and the jolting rise and fall felt invigorating.

They galloped unhesitatingly along the road, where the early-summer sun beat down in a shimmering haze.

Hwashin spoke with a smile.

“You’re a skilled rider.”

“You seem even better, Young Master Namgoong.”

The ride remained refreshing for a full hour. The route was straightforward.

From Xiangyang, where the Desolate Fortress stood, to Huizhou in Southern Zhili, there was only one route if they wished to follow the post roads.

Was that why?

Suddenly, Yeonshin sensed a certain inevitability.

A breeze laden with vivid crimson seemed to caress his cheek, as though it had waited for this very moment.

The qi waves spreading from far ahead were deeply familiar. Irregular, yet strangely refined.

Had their source been waiting there for a long time?

‘Weaker than usual. The qi waves are shallow.’

The boy spoke from horseback. A brief exchange immediately began between the two geniuses.

“Young Master Namgoong.”

“That sinister energy? I felt it.”

“Yes. It’s Blood Art core energy.”

“It doesn’t seem to be merely a Blood Master Swordsman.”

“It’s an Apostle.”

“An Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult?”

“Yes. Probably the Seventh Apostle.”

“I’ve heard all about her. That you lived together.”

“You know how to joke?”

“I’m human, too. More importantly, those qi waves are strange for an Apostle’s power.”

“If she’s weakened, this is an opportunity. If she has her original strength, it’s already too late. She’ll catch us with her lightness skill.”

“What would our chances be if we fought together?”

“I don’t know. All we can do is fight loudly and hope the fortress’s supreme masters notice.”

He spoke honestly.

His internal power had increased after consuming the spirit pill awarded for his missions.

But in the world of masters, an inch of difference meant a disparity in martial strength. Yeonshin was cautious.

He lived a life pursued by time. Without pushing his body to its limits, he could hardly give a definite answer.

Did they have a chance?

‘Still, if those markedly weakened qi waves are genuine...’

THUMP!

Judging the distance, Yeonshin leaped from his horse. His field of vision abruptly widened.

As Hwashin rose into the air at the edge of his vision, he saw someone emerge from the forest, now considerably closer.

She wore flowing red robes.

Ebony hair and a single red eye.

Her body had changed little. Perhaps her hair was a little longer.

But her appearance was different because of the blood trickling from her mouth. The dark crimson blood looked unfamiliar on her.

Blood Arts possessed regenerative properties, yet she seemed unable to repair her internal injuries.

WHOOSH!

They had decided they had no choice but to clash. Yeonshin and Hwashin immediately unleashed a storm of lightness skill.

The scenery flashed past, and the Seventh Apostle’s face rushed into view.

THUD.

“Your headquarters should be in ruins.”

His feet scraped the ground, raising dust.

As the moisture-laden wake of their lightness skill blew back against them, Yeonshin stopped precisely ten paces away and spoke.

“What do you want, coming all the way to Xiangyang?”

“... You weren’t home.”

Slowly, the Seventh Apostle parted her bloodstained lips.

She had worn a faint smile from the moment she faced Yeonshin. For an instant, she even looked pitiable.

Her pitch-black hair stirred in the dusty wind.

“So I came to find you.”

Her lips moved. Opposite the black eyepatch, her red eye shone.

“What happened to you?”

Thoroughly used to her prettily cloaked madness, Yeonshin asked indifferently.

“Are you worried about me?”

Her smile brightened. With that deepening crimson smile, she seemed not to spare Hwashin a thought.

“They’re a little rough, you know. Your black-ranked masters.”

Her speech broke off. It meant her internal-energy breathing was unstable.

There had been fortress masters he had not seen during the incident at the Blood Flame Cult headquarters. Had they done this to her?

Then it happened.

“I’ve found you, so it’s all right. Come here.”

STEP.

She staggered toward him with a smile. Even at a glance, her internal injuries were severe. Nothing about her seemed quite right.

Yeonshin raised a hand to stop Hwashin from intervening.

Fortunately, he stopped. It was trust.

Likely earned through Yeonshin’s growth, his blue rank, his completed missions, and the friendship they had built.

‘Something’s strange.’

He stood still, watching only the Seventh Apostle’s expression and qi waves, until her faint breath touched his neck.

RUSTLE.

With unsteady breaths, she embraced him. He could distinctly feel their clothes brushing gently together.

“Come back and create a divine technique for me. My very own young Grand Preceptor. My little Cult Leader.”

The Seventh Apostle whispered, tickling his ear.

‘If it works on her, it should work on the Namgoong clan’s direct line as well.’

Yeonshin thought within her embrace.

“Your young Grand Preceptor...”

He spoke calmly. He had not expected to test his new palm technique in real combat so soon.

As he put the formula into operation, an eerie surge of core energy rose from his right hand.

It took only an instant. The dusty wind spreading beneath his feet began to shimmer gold in the sunlight.

“...is gone now.”

A thunderous roar erupted with the boy’s words.