“... What do you mean by blood?”

“You seem to know already. You have some nerve, child.”

The Desolate Fortress Master's green eyes were tranquil. Jung Yeonshin, who had been overwhelmed by her presence, slowly nodded.

“I am indeed related to the former Divine Sword Squad Leader. I am his daughter's son.”

“He will soon take the head seat of the elder council, yet he remains a stubborn child. I see you carry a wound.”

“It is nothing you need concern yourself with, Fortress Master. Merely a trivial family matter.”

“Such things are not trivial. Your well-trained body may conceal it, but you seem to have lived only fifteen years or so. Still... it is true that an outsider has no say in the matter. Family must settle its own affairs.”

“Forgive me.”

Jung Yeonshin's face showed not the slightest apology or discomfort as he spoke. To his mind, the transcendent presence of an absolute master was one thing; prying into his family affairs was quite another.

Perhaps sensing his thoughts, the Desolate Fortress Master's lips curved up ever so slightly.

“I like you. You came here seeking something, yet you refuse to bow. That spirit of yours is amusing.”

'She saw through me, just as I thought.'

It was no surprise. His Baihui point, at the upper dantian, was abnormally open—a condition Jung Yeonshin had discovered for himself. There was nothing strange about an unrivaled master like the Desolate Fortress Master seeing through it at a glance.

“Could even someone like me live if I ate the fruit of the world tree?”

“Its effects have been somewhat misrepresented, but yes. It should be more than sufficient to grant your wish.”

“Is it possible for me to obtain it?”

Her smile deepened a little at his bold question.

“That depends on you.”

“That is enough for now. Thank you.”

Jung Yeonshin cupped his fist in salute, then asked one more question.

“Am I now a warrior of the Desolate Fortress?”

“Yes. You may go down now, future Divine Sword Squad Leader.”

He could not tell whether she was merely teasing him or truly acknowledging his potential. It also sounded as though she meant he could obtain the fruit of the world tree if he became the Divine Sword Squad Leader.

Leaving her with a smile that looked faintly playful, Jung Yeonshin walked out of the wood-filled study.

When he reached the ground floor, Heon Wonchang rushed to greet him in a flurry of excitement.

“What in the world happened up there? Please, tell me! You took an especially long time, Master Jung. What did the Desolate Fortress Master say to you? Did you at least pass?”

“It was personal, so I cannot really discuss it. I did pass. But why are there so few people left?”

“Everyone who was standing around in a daze has left, except Young Master Namgoong! I'm so anxious I could die!”

In other words, everyone but the White Qilin, Namgoong Hwashin, had gone home. When Yeonshin turned his gaze, their eyes met, and Hwashin smiled and nodded in greeting.

Jung Yeonshin returned the greeting and turned back, only to find Heon Wonchang already climbing the stairs like a man on his deathbed.

“There's nothing to it. Good luck.”

Heon Wonchang waved limply at Jung Yeonshin's encouragement.

* * *

“Hahahaha! The Desolate Fortress! I am the Desolate Fortress Sacred Warrior!”

Heon Wonchang had passed. Considering where they were, he was cheering in a breathy whisper, a sight that inspired very little confidence. They had become friends, however briefly, so it was good news. Still, Jung Yeonshin honestly could not fathom the criteria for admission.

“The Desolate Fortress opens its doors rather wider than I expected.”

“What do you mean?”

Heon Wonchang blinked.

Rather than answer, Jung Yeonshin watched a scholarly-looking middle-aged man approach.

“Welcome to the Fortress. I am Gi Daeseung of the Command Bureau. Please follow me. I will show you to your lodgings, where you will stay until your assignments are decided.”

“When will our assignments be decided?” Jung Yeonshin asked.

“The captains will each be selecting from among you. You should expect it to take a full seven days and nights. Now that you are warriors of this fortress, I can tell you... Ah, let us talk as we walk.”

Jung Yeonshin, Namgoong Hwashin, Heon Wonchang, and one other successful candidate, a swordsman—the four who had passed their interviews with the Desolate Fortress Master followed the scholar Gi Daeseung.

“Hmm. Do you know what the Desolate Fortress primarily does?”

“Prevents martial masters from plotting rebellion?”

“You are not wrong, Young Master Heon, but that is our overarching duty rather than our primary activity. There is other, more detailed work that we perform regularly: preventing or suppressing conflicts in the martial world once they reach a certain scale. Young Master White Qilin should be familiar with that. The Namgoong clan's undertakings have been thwarted by the Desolate Fortress time and again.”

“Yes.”

Namgoong Hwashin gave a brief nod.

Jung Yeonshin glanced at him, puzzled to find his expression more composed than expected. As he had left such an illustrious clan to come here, there did indeed seem to be circumstances an outsider would struggle to understand. Gi Daeseung was no ordinary man either, to say such a thing to his face.

“No one knows how a fight in Murim might escalate. Let so much as a rumor spread that the Heavenly Demon's tomb has been discovered, and bloodshed sweeps across the Central Plains. If those coveting peerless martial manuals and spiritual medicines merely fought among themselves and left it at that, it would be one thing. But the very movement of warriors rising up from every region is a problem.”

Gi Daeseung sighed briefly before continuing.

“Brutal martial artists make no distinction between other martial artists and ordinary people when they run amok. The resulting lawlessness is appalling. Witness those hellish scenes, and you would think yourself in a world entirely separate from the Great Ming Empire. Some unknown Heavenly Demon's tomb summons the King of Hell.”

“The Heavenly Demon's Tomb Uprising...”

Heon Wonchang murmured the words, his face looking strangely grave.

Gi Daeseung nodded.

“It has been seventeen years now. Nor are the evil and unorthodox paths the only problem. Throwing one's weight around or fighting over profit is hardly rare among the orthodox factions of the righteous path, including the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Families. It is worse among established regional sects and gangs, or sects that pass their martial arts down to only a few disciples. Diverse as these groups are, their individual members vary even more widely. Leave them unchecked, and the common people suffer. When that breeds unrest, or tribute fails to arrive on time, the governance of the realm is disrupted.”

“...”

“That is why the imperial family provides vast wealth, spiritual medicines, secret manuals, and masters to this place, the Desolate Fortress. That is the work you will do. You must behead martial artists who disrupt the people's livelihoods.”

“I knew that much already. But why explain all this when we asked about our assignments?” Heon Wonchang asked.

“Because we are short of people. More precisely, talented people with great potential whom we can trust and put to work are rare. There is so much to do, and such a vast territory to cover.”

“Plenty failed today alone. I passed, though.”

“... And so, it takes time to assign the chosen talents where they are best suited. About seven days and nights. Ah, here we are.”

After briefly looking nonplussed, Gi Daeseung pointed to a building. It, too, was a lavish hall.

'The Jeong Clan Estate was a stable by comparison.'

As Jung Yeonshin reflected on this, Gi Daeseung cupped his fist in salute to them.

“I wish you success. Go inside, and the attendants will show you around.”

* * *

Seven days and nights passed.

Their lodgings were even more luxurious than they appeared from outside. As if to prove the immensity of the imperial family's support, each of them had an elegant room entirely to himself. There was even a training ground behind the hall, allowing them to practice whenever they pleased.

At last, they moved. Their assignments had been decided, and they were heading to the private quarters and training grounds of their respective units among the seventeen squads.

“May fortune favor you in battle.”

“I wish you success as well, Young Master Namgoong.”

With their farewells exchanged, they parted ways.

In the meantime, a strange rumor had been circulating through the Desolate Fortress: the captains of the seventeen combat squads under the Divine Sword Squad had sparred over the right to recruit new warriors.

“My men came back from watching the desolate fortress trial and raised a racket. The White Qilin and Lightning Genius—they said we had to bring back one of the two.”

Ma Jin, leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, one of the Divine Sword Squad's seventeen squads, bore a terrible scar. The fearsome mark slanted down across his face from left to right. It was a wonder he had survived such a wound, and his entire body carried a rough, powerful presence to match.

“You. Lightning Genius.”

He looked at Jung Yeonshin.

The light in his large, piercing eyes seemed to attest to formidable internal power, but Jung Yeonshin had said everything he wished even in the presence of the Desolate Fortress Master.

“Yes.”

An ordinary answer. Ma Jin nodded at the sight of his utterly unchanged expression.

“You've got spirit. Your sort doesn't die easily.”

They were at the Radiant Demon Squad's training ground. It was an impressive place, spacious enough to hold a good five hundred people, with a wide variety of weapons standing along one side. The hall beside it was also enormous, on an entirely different scale from the building where they had waited for their assignments.

Around them, some thirty men and women sat or stood as they pleased, watching the two new recruits.

“A combat unit under the Desolate Fortress's Divine Sword Squad is equivalent to a sect in the Central Plains. You will learn martial arts and carry out missions here in the Radiant Demon Squad. Everyone here is your senior martial brother or sister.”

“Captain Ma, I have a question!”

It was Heon Wonchang, who, in a different sense from Jung Yeonshin, had not been overwhelmed by that imposing presence. At the moment, he looked beside himself with excitement.

“Speak.”

Ma Jin nodded.

The Radiant Demon Squad had brought in two of the four new recruits. While waiting for his assignment, Jung Yeonshin had heard that Ma Jin was a contender for the strongest of the Desolate Fortress's seventeen captains. Seeing him today, he thought the reputation seemed well earned.

Meanwhile, Heon Wonchang was pouring out words with the same excited air.

“Thank you for allowing my question! When you say we will learn martial arts in the Radiant Demon Squad, does that mean everyone shares the same martial arts?”

“No. Your private martial arts remain yours alone. Only the Radiant Demon Squad's martial arts are taught and learned here. Sharing anything else is not compulsory.”

“Ah! In any case, the famous radiant demon arts...!”

His face brimmed with emotion. The golden-dragon hero's headband he had not removed even after entering the Desolate Fortress fluttered as though reflecting its owner's feelings.

'The radiant demon arts.'

Jung Yeonshin had heard of them too. The Radiant Demon Squad was, after all, particularly famous even among the Divine Sword Squad's seventeen squads. It had once clashed with Mount Hua's twenty-four Plum Blossom Swordsmen, that sect's most elite masters, without suffering a single casualty.

That incident had lent weight to the claims of those who proclaimed the Desolate Fortress the greatest under heaven.

“If you want to survive, you will have to train hard.”

Ma Jin spoke with utter seriousness, his face looking as though it belonged to a general on the northern frontier.

“The Desolate Fortress is an imperial sect, but attacking one of its warriors does not constitute treason. That is why you must learn, train, and grow endlessly stronger here. Fail, and you die.”

“Why does it not constitute treason?”

Jung Yeonshin asked. Before Ma Jin could reply, Heon Wonchang spoke up.

“From the imperial family's perspective, treason must be rooted out and punished by exterminating the offender's nine degrees of kinship. Otherwise, the empire's majesty cannot stand, and the imperial family's absolute authority is tarnished. At least, that is how they see it.”

“... Crazy bastard.”

Ma Jin chuckled, but did not stop him.

“But the martial world has plenty of strange characters. There are more than enough who have lost their reason while practicing demonic arts, or whose lightness skills are so elusive and swift that they can attack officials and still escape into remote mountains and valleys. That is why the dignity of the imperial family cannot be bestowed on Desolate Fortress warriors. They are not ordinary officials—their very duty is to clash with martial artists.”

Jung Yeonshin gave a small nod.

Despite his usual frivolous appearance, Heon Wonchang sometimes displayed flashes of keen intelligence. This happened mostly when he spoke of sect histories or the balance of power. The same was true of his deductions about the imperial court's intentions from the state of the martial world. Between that and his hostility toward the great sects, he seemed to have a past at odds with his normally lighthearted manner.

“Heon Wonchang isn't wrong. That is why you must become strong. That fellow came back from a mission after taking a sword wound from the Namgoong First Sword. He could tell you better than I can.”

Where Ma Jin pointed, a handsome man in a blue headscarf sat sprawled casually. His features were strikingly distinct, yet his expression was gentle. His entire air was free-spirited, and a breeze kept brushing the trailing ends of the scarf behind his head, making them sway. Even at a glance, he was clearly no ordinary man.

“Those king-style sword arts were terrifying.”

He waved a hand as he spoke.

It was impossible not to be surprised. The king-style sword arts ranked among the world's foremost sword arts, a peerless discipline said to be taught only to the Namgoong clan's legitimate heirs. Even in the countryside, Jung Yeonshin had heard the name.

'And isn't the Namgoong First Sword a master counted among the strongest in Southern Zhili?'

The man in the headscarf did not project a particularly powerful presence, but a closer look revealed that the rippling waves of qi around his body were under meticulous control. In the first place, the very fact that he had returned alive from an encounter with a supreme master like the Namgoong First Sword was evidence of his skill.

“Well then, shall we take a look at Lightning Genius first?”

The man in the headscarf sprang to his feet. Ma Jin stepped back, as though this had already been arranged.

The man strode toward Jung Yeonshin. For some reason, the sword dangling from its carelessly fastened position at his waist drew the eye. He grinned.

“If you've made it here at your age, you must have quite a bit of talent. Shall we have a look? At your aptitude for the sword, I mean. I'm very good at checking that sort of thing.”

“Did you say you are good at judging talent?”

Jung Yeonshin found himself asking without thinking.