The destruction of the Profound Truth Sect was a major incident. Lately, it had been on everyone's lips in Wuchang, day after day.

Martial sects that held regional supremacy extended their influence even into the livelihoods of ordinary people. That was especially true of unorthodox sects. Those established in cities tripled or quadrupled the tribute burden on the populace.

They collected protection fees under the pretext of keeping the peace. They took anything: copper coins, silver, daily necessities, even people. With each successive year of poor harvests, the government's control had plummeted.

It would take more than an ordinary incident to change the talk on Wuchang's streets.

"A Blood fiend?"

"Keep your voice down. I told you, this wasn't an ordinary Blood fiend. Those Namgoong clan warriors, in an instant..."

"That's right. They say it was one of that wicked cult's noble blood relatives. With martial prowess like that, it's entirely plausible. Watch your neck. You never know when you might become a sacrifice to their Blood Art."

People gathered in groups of four or five in corners of the marketplace, talking in hushed voices.

"Good heavens... The nights will be quiet now. I'd best stay home as soon as the sun sets."

"We'll have to, for a while."

"Quiet...!"

A middle-aged man whispered, his face startled. His alarm seemed to escape on his breath.

Silence was spreading toward them from farther down the street.

Three people were approaching. The woman in the middle was striking. With skin as white as white jade and close-fitting dark blue attire, she looked like a celestial maiden descended to the mortal world.

She was a martial artist everyone here would recognize: the Namgoong clan's Lord of Changling Blossoms, whose beauty, martial prowess, and accomplishments the locals had lately been praising.

"Then those two are..."

Someone murmured.

The rumors had already spread far and wide—a heartwarming story concerning Namgoong Mi, who had lost her guards to a Blood Flame Cult noble and been left utterly alone.

White Qilin Namgoong Hwashin and Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin had taken her into their party to protect an opponent they were to face in a duel to the death. The Wuchang martial artists present were said to have marveled at their magnanimity.

Two outstanding young talents of the Desolate Fortress.

They were bound to attract attention. Unless they met an untimely death on their travels, they would become some of the foremost masters in the martial world.

Word was gradually spreading of this strange journey shared by people destined to fight one another to the death.

"Your epithet was Lightning Genius, wasn't it?"

Namgoong Mi suddenly spoke. Her tone was level, yet condescending.

She no longer seemed to care how others saw her. Was that because she, too, knew there was nothing she could do about her situation?

This was not the tone she used in public.

Jung Yeonshin did not answer.

They had already exchanged brutal blows. The boy was not that shameless. It felt awkward to answer as though nothing had happened simply because she did not recognize his uncovered face.

Besides, she would soon be dead. He had no particular desire to talk to her.

"Now every little nobody thinks they can get on my nerves?"

Namgoong Mi spoke with a crooked curl of her lips. Her soft steps and bearing exuded composure. The dark blue folds of her practical, close-fitting attire might almost have been palace robes.

She maintained that air despite surely knowing that their 'protection' was merely a public pretext, and that she was effectively a prisoner of the Desolate Fortress.

"..."

Jung Yeonshin merely glanced at her.

She seemed born that way. Raised like royalty in Southern Zhili, she had built a solid world of her own upon her blood ties to the Namgoong direct line.

Even after such an ordeal, her attitude toward the world had not changed.

She did not know that the demon-masked figure in the pure-blood robe was Jung Yeonshin. Even most Desolate Fortress warriors would have struggled to imagine it.

'Pathetic.'

The boy wondered how he appeared to Namgoong Mi, whose eyes were raised in inborn arrogance.

Judging from the disposition he had already experienced firsthand, she seemed to regard him as no more than the nuisance who had triggered the life-and-death matches between the Desolate Fortress and the Namgoong clan.

'There's no reason to reveal it. That identity could prove useful on other missions, too.'

Jung Yeonshin maintained his indifferent expression. He did not treat Namgoong Mi as a person worth engaging with.

Only Namgoong Hwashin's face grew visibly uncomfortable at his half sister's behavior.

"Namgoong Mi. Mind your manners. Young Master Jung is our fortress master's direct disciple. His status is every bit as distinguished as yours."

"Our dear Hwashin. Your jokes have improved more than your martial arts."

Namgoong Mi's lips curled upward.

"The disciple of a supernatural abomination that lives because it cannot die is distinguished? The word 'noble' must have become a joke."

"What did you say?"

"How long will the Desolate Fortress Master remain above the clouds? The great martial sects aren't fools. The Hwangbo clan, the Blood Flame Cult headquarters, and now our family. Who comes next? Her actions are outrageously arrogant and excessive. Do you think the Eight Families and the Thirteen Skies will simply sit and wait?"

"..."

Namgoong Hwashin fell silent, his expression grave.

To Jung Yeonshin, he looked far too soft. Was it because of the sorcery-like conditioning in loyalty he had undergone while being raised from childhood to lead Sword Night?

It was frustrating to see him lose even a petty argument with his mother's enemy standing right before him.

With a derisive little laugh, Namgoong Mi turned her head and glanced at Jung Yeonshin.

"That goes for you too, little boy. I doubt you've inherited all of her true martial arts. Those creatures tied to the imperial family would never give away everything they possess. How are they any different from our Eight Families, to whom blood relations are everything? You pitiful half-trained thing."

"Eight Families is an odd choice of words."

Jung Yeonshin spoke calmly.

"What?"

"It should be Seven Families now. No, I think Six Families has a better ring to it. What do you think? Their numbers dwindle so easily, after all."

"Did you just..."

She apparently had not imagined such a reply. Namgoong Mi's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth with a contemptuous smile, but Jung Yeonshin quietly cut her off.

"Remember what a formal duel means. However base your clan's character, we treat you with courtesy because our own dignity as martial artists depends on the opponents we face. If the person I stake my life against carries no weight, how hollow would that be?"

"..."

"If you don't understand, feel free to keep prattling. It will only mean that's the limit of your capacity."

Jung Yeonshin turned away again as he finished.

He caught a brief glimpse of Namgoong Mi's face, her fine brows deeply contorted, but his only thought was that the conversation had gone on too long.

She was not worth more than ten breaths of his time.

"A half-trained wretch presumes to speak of capacity?"

After that single sneering retort, Namgoong Mi remained quiet for a while.

Arrogant and unreasonable though her behavior was, she was still a daughter of a prestigious martial family. Once her opponent invoked dignity, she seemed to have nothing more to say.

After that, her expression changed subtly whenever she looked at Jung Yeonshin.

Her haughty manner, as though regarding an inferior, remained unchanged. Yet he occasionally detected signs that she was scrutinizing his entire body.

Namgoong Mi, Lord of Changling Blossoms. Had she sensed something?

The demon mask briefly came to mind, but he dismissed the thought. The noble in the pure-blood robe and the Radiant Demon Squad's Lightning Genius were different.

'Even their tones are different. I wasn't trying to provoke her with what I said, either.'

He decided it was nothing to worry about.

Amid all this, the boy suddenly offered Namgoong Hwashin an apology.

"When I spoke of the Namgoong clan..."

"No, it's all right. I found it rather refreshing."

Namgoong Hwashin laughed cheerfully and waved a hand. Both of them ignored Namgoong Mi's snort.

And so their strange party took shape.

The Namgoong half siblings, Jung Yeonshin, and even the Seventh Apostle, her red eyes gleaming in the distance.

Their association would last only until the life-and-death sparring matches against the Namgoong clan.

Namgoong Mi and the Seventh Apostle had to die. Yet the winds of the turbulent martial world were said to be merciless. Rather than just those two, all four of them might fall.

'The Seventh Apostle. The Blue Qilin.'

Jung Yeonshin considered his two principal targets. He hoped he and Namgoong Hwashin would complete their mission unharmed.

* * *

To reach Huizhou in Southern Zhili, where the Namgoong clan was located, they had no choice but to pass through Huangzhou.

That was how the post-station route ran. It was the only road from Wuchang in Huguang Province to Southern Zhili.

The party entered a sizable inn.

"We should spend the night here, then press straight on at a forced pace. Some troublesome rumors seem to be spreading."

"You said Huizhou was just beyond this road, didn't you? That sounds best."

After exchanging those words with Namgoong Hwashin, Jung Yeonshin walked toward an empty table. Namgoong Mi and Namgoong Hwashin followed at once.

Jung Yeonshin and Namgoong Mi sat side by side at a table for four. Namgoong Hwashin took the seat opposite them.

The arrangement was deliberate. Jung Yeonshin trusted Namgoong Hwashin's eyes, honed through long practice of his clan's supreme eye technique.

The White Qilin's gaze was sharp as he watched his sister, both blood relative and enemy. He looked ready to strike the instant she made a rash move.

Namgoong Mi herself seemed unbothered. After ordering food from the waiter, she gazed at the copy of the Diamond Sutra Jung Yeonshin had taken out.

"A Buddhist scripture? You fancy yourself a Buddhist?"

As always, Jung Yeonshin ignored her.

They were close to Huizhou now, which meant they were within the Namgoong clan's sphere of influence. News of the matches must have spread more widely here than anywhere else. They needed to guard against unexpected developments.

Even this inn was abuzz.

"Business is booming, I tell you. Martial artists are gathering from all over the land."

"It's the Desolate Fortress against the Namgoong clan. When else would we get to see the martial arts of such lofty figures?"

"Will the Divine Sword Squad Leader and the Namgoong clan head truly pit their strength against each other? I can hardly believe it. I doubt I will until I see it myself."

"The Namgoong clan had better win. If the Desolate Fortress puts up a strong showing..."

"Even prices here in Huangzhou will fluctuate. For our merchant company to survive, things are best left unchanged."

It seemed to be an everyday topic here already.

There was no particular reason for them to speak deliberately for the Desolate Fortress warriors to hear. These were simply their usual conversations, all manner of which reached Jung Yeonshin's party.

Those who had noticed Jung Yeonshin and Namgoong Hwashin's martial robes had already fallen silent.

Those who had not kept talking.

"It's been a long time since the Namgoong young clan head last revealed his swordsmanship, hasn't it? His opponent is that young talent called Lightning Genius, yes? The one who rendered great service during the Blood Flame Cult incident."

"Isn't this a contest to decide who will one day stand at the pinnacle of the martial world? I wonder which of them is truly the finest of the rising generation."

"The young clan head is the young clan head. How could you measure him by the standards of mere rising talents?"

Listening beside Jung Yeonshin, Namgoong Mi's lips curved smoothly upward. She turned her head slightly toward him and spoke with a breathy laugh and a faint smile.

"They aren't wrong. With those eyes that see only what's right in front of you, our Namgoong clan must seem no different from an unorthodox sect. But to the common people, at least, we truly are an orthodox clan without equal. When floods strike, we distribute grain for relief. When unorthodox vermin run amok, Namgoong warriors step in."

"..."

"A mere rising talent cannot withstand the king-style sword arts of our house's direct line. And my elder brother has cultivated them to a level of attainment that is difficult even to fathom. Isn't that reason enough for your defeat? Moreover, there is nothing our Namgoong clan neglects when it comes to the people's welfare..."

Namgoong Mi spoke with a faint trace of amusement.

"I'm saying you can close your eyes in peace beneath my brother's sword."

"Doesn't your mouth hurt? Talking such nonsense."

His indifferent reply deepened her smile. The expression on her white face was strange.

"Or..."

"...?"

"You could surrender beforehand and enter our house's service. I'll let you wash my feet, and nothing more. I mean it."

Wash her feet. He had said something like that while posing as a Blood Flame Cult noble.

'Is she testing me?'

Or was it simply another meaningless display of spite?

Jung Yeonshin was considering the intent behind her words when it happened.

WHOOSH!

Dozens of razor-sharp currents abruptly swept in—a black gale carrying a human form.

Jung Yeonshin and Namgoong Hwashin reacted to its astonishingly swift approach. Rather than drawing their swords, they activated their core energy first. The incoming waves of qi were so powerful that they seemed about to tear their bodies to shreds.

But the uninvited intruder was not targeting them.

BOOM!

Ebony hair swirled with a clear sheen.

A hand shot through the air like a swift sword and clamped around both of Namgoong Mi's cheeks. Its fingers were every bit as white as her skin.

An uncanny pulse spread from the movement as the hand lifted Namgoong Mi into the air. Such overwhelming martial prowess.

"You."

The Seventh Apostle's red lips curved into an arc.

"What did you say?"