NOVPUBJeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled the martial arts techniques he had encountered at Ipwang Fortress’s library of heavenly martial manuals. Except for the Jeong Family’s Core Technique, he had gifted all others.
His martial arts were constantly evolving. Techniques that stagnated in manuals were insignificant compared to his lifespan.
How much merit would he earn in return?
The intrinsic value of unique martial arts gifts was converted into merit points. Their worth was assessed based on the general increase in combat strength they provided.
This implied that evaluations weren’t solely reliant on the perspectives of top-tier masters.
It was a value system different from the worldview of martial artists. The imperial court, it seemed, had its own standards.
“The Demon-Destroying Azure Unyielding Palm returned with high merit because it had no prior practitioners. It was said to be thanks to its rarity as a Buddhist martial art.”
There was a reason Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled the merit of donated martial arts.
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together.
“I asked for your hand.”
Namgung Mi stood before him, a provocative smile gracing her lips.
Her damp hair cascaded down to her pale neck, and she gazed intently at Jeong Yeon-shin, as if she had never been irritated by the summer rain.
‘Could she have sensed something?’
Jeong Yeon-shin thought of his concealed identity as a disguised member of the Bloodflame Cult. If she discovered it, it would spell trouble.
He couldn’t help but wonder: would Namgung Mi’s head be worth as much as the Ultimate Polar Flower Fist? She was a direct descendant of one of the Eight Noble Clans.
Perhaps her value rivaled that of the Eight Malicious Demonic Blades of the Blade Specters. Even without considering her martial prowess, her worth alone justified it.
Namgung Mi’s smile deepened as she opened her mouth again.
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m just curious about how much you’ve trained in swordsmanship.”
“You’re openly measuring the achievements of an enemy?”
“Enemy? How could you possibly be my enemy? If anything, you might bring another wave of glory to the Namgung Clan.”
“You’re shameless. Your opponent is White Qilin So-hyeop.”
“Yet I’m more curious about you.”
She leaned in slightly, her expression dripping with allure. Her gaze, glowing faintly, reminded Jeong Yeon-shin of the Seventh Apostle. It was a sign she had ulterior motives.
“......”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t respond further and instead started walking. He had no reason to provide her with leverage.
“Perhaps you would’ve made a good pair.”
Namgung So-ga-ju’s unexpected remark caught him off guard. He smiled warmly, watching his younger sister and the boy, his demeanor soft in contrast to Namgung Mi’s.
Jeong Yeon-shin resolved not to exchange any more words with the siblings.
Walking in silence beside Namgung Hwa-shin, they soon arrived at the largest pavilion in Huizhou.
The walls extending on either side were as vast as fortress ramparts.
He had seen it once before while heading to the Yongbong Gathering, but its size still felt excessive for a single clan.
It was clear why people referred to such clans as Se-ga (Great Families)—the grandeur alone justified the title.
南宮.
“Namgung...”
Namgung Hwa-shin murmured as he looked up at the nameplate on the grand gate.
Jeong Yeon-shin quietly observed his companion. The usual resolute spirit Namgung Hwa-shin carried seemed absent.
Jeong Yeon-shin had easily defeated Namgung Mi thanks to the compatibility between the Jeong Family’s Core Technique and his ice techniques.
Could Namgung Hwa-shin defeat her? He would need to overcome her oath-bound loyalty to sorcery and her relentless cold energy.
“The Sovereign of Ipwang Fortress said this was about inheritance.”
The mission of the Ipwang Fortress expeditionary unit was meaningful only if they neutralized all opposition. Namgung leadership had to be replaced with a collateral line.
“It is an honor to welcome such distinguished individuals to the main family.”
Namgung So-ga-ju nodded to the gatekeepers and spoke with a smile.
His gesture toward the main gate exuded confidence. Jeong Yeon-shin returned a slight nod and stepped forward.
At last, they had arrived at the Namgung Clan.
***
Jeong Yeon-shin unpacked his belongings and took a bath to cleanse himself. Assigned to a guest room, he changed into a spare Ipwang Fortress combat uniform.
Shortly after, he was invited to a formal dinner at the Namgung Clan’s residence.
Was there a martial art to train one’s face into steel? Jeong Yeon-shin pondered this as he sat in the elegantly decorated room.
Men and women dressed in luxurious silk garments, along with Namgung So-ga-ju and Namgung Mi, surrounded the grand oval dining table.
Namgung Hwa-shin sat beside him.
He trembled ever so slightly, as if every one of the ten individuals present could detect it. It was evident at a glance—none among them were ordinary.
Each differed from Namgung So-ga-ju. Perhaps they considered illegitimate members non-existent.
No one paid attention to Namgung Hwa-shin. The eyes of the direct lineage were focused entirely on Jeong Yeon-shin.
“So, you are Seomye.”
Jeong Yeon-shin turned toward the speaker.
It was a middle-aged man clad in an old-fashioned, cobalt-blue long robe, a figure synonymous with the Namgung Clan itself.
His distinct facial features carried traces of Namgung So-ga-ju, Namgung Mi, and Namgung Hwa-shin.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze shifted to the hilt at Namgung Ga-ju’s waist. A faintly blue sword handle hung there.
Under the flickering lamplight, an engraving on the sword’s blade subtly appeared:
凌雲之志 南牆太高
"Even with aspirations beyond the clouds, one cannot surmount the southern wall."
The Namjang Sword, an artifact of legend, was said to symbolize the Namgung Clan.
Forged by the Iron Tribe, it was a peerless masterpiece of a divine sword, radiating an aura that seemed to envelop the Namgung Clan leader.
Perhaps sensing Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze, Namgung Ga-ju faintly smiled.
“Have you heard of the rebellion of the Ming Cult in the Tianshan Mountains? A former elder of this clan annihilated the cult’s three leaders. The emperor granted this family heirloom in recognition, though it hasn’t been drawn often since. For that, I must thank you. Few could rival the Sword Corps Captain in martial prowess.”
“I find it hard to accept such flattery from the clan leader. I’ve already heard apologies and thanks from So-ga-ju regarding the incident at Qingya Valley.”
Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly, subtly pointing out Namgung Ga-ju’s failure to apologize for the Qingya Valley debacle.
He immediately noticed Namgung Hwa-shin’s breathing grow uneven beside him. Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t help but feel pity.
“Even after seeing the Namjang Sword, you speak this way.”
A woman seated to Namgung Ga-ju’s left broke her silence. She was the most extravagantly dressed expert at the table.
“The walls that guard Nanjili are my husband and children. Ipwang Fortress concerns itself with the people’s welfare? If that were truly the case, they wouldn’t have sent a life-or-death duel invitation. This debacle occurred because of your limited scope. If you cannot see the broader world, how dare you speak of apologies?”
The speaker was the Great Madam of the Namgung Clan. Her brazenness surpassed even Namgung Mi.
“I understand now that Chang Ryeong-hwaju’s temperament is inherited.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke evenly, implying that Namgung Mi had inherited her mother’s character.
The Great Madam’s brows furrowed, unaccustomed to such insolence. Almost immediately, qi ripples radiated from five or six people nearby.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood without hesitation.
These people could do nothing to him or Namgung Hwa-shin at this moment. His presence here had been deliberate and open. This was an incident that had drawn the attention of the martial world.
As Jeong Yeon-shin entered the Namgung Clan grounds, he had felt countless presences trailing him—agents from the Nine Great Sects, bat-like spies from the Hao Clan, and representatives of the Thirteen Heavens faction.
“Last time, you discarded me after I fought as your ally. Now, I’ve walked into your inner sanctum as an unarmed enemy, and yet you restrain yourselves from attacking. Your patience as a noble family is remarkable. Perhaps it is the eyes of the martial world fixed on this duel that stay your hand.”
“So-ga-ju, don’t let this boy leave so easily.”
The Great Madam spoke coldly, her words drawing a grimace from So-ga-ju. He had endured the conversation with visible discomfort.
“This is now my matter to handle! Elder relatives, please, I beg of you...”
At that moment, a resounding shockwave erupted from beyond the towering ceiling. The furniture trembled violently, and the entire hall quaked.
[“You wretched brat! What nonsense are you spewing—!”]
An elderly voice reverberated through the space like a thunderous earthquake, carrying immense energy.
Six Harmonies Transmission. It was a transcendent technique capable of projecting one’s voice across the heavens and earth.
CRASH!
The ceiling collapsed, and a figure clad in a purple long robe crashed into the center of the dining table like a bolt of lightning.
The storm of qi swirling from his robust frame seemed to suffocate the entire room.
A mist-like cloud of dust rose belatedly. From within the haze, an old man stood.
“Repeat yourself.”
The voice that had used the Six Harmonies Transmission now rumbled with anger.
His eyes were as sharp as blades, and his towering physique radiated overwhelming presence.
A pure white beard extended to his chest, regal as a renowned calligraphy brush.
His purple long robe was lined with a stiff collar that stood tall, reflecting the man’s unyielding nature.
‘Grandfather...’
Jeong Yeon-shin stared blankly at Ma Yeon-jeok. He wasn’t the only one.
The martial masters of the Namgung Clan were all visibly shocked. Even Namgung Ga-ju’s right-hand elder stiffened.
“...The Sword Corps Captain.”
“Namgung Elder. Are you still trapped in the past? How long has it been since I passed the Divine Sword to the next generation?”
Ma Yeon-jeok, the former lord of Ipwang Fortress, spoke curtly.
Turning to the Great Madam, he narrowed his eyes. She had no justification for persecuting his grandson.
“Ungrateful wretches dare to scheme against my grandson’s life! The fortress lord did not order the eradication of the Namgung strays!”
“My wife misspoke. Please quell your anger, Ma Ga-ju.”
Namgung Ga-ju’s calm voice interrupted, his demeanor serene despite the waves of energy rippling through the hall.
Ma Yeon-jeok shot him a sharp glare but spoke again, suppressing his fury.
“The duel will take place on the seventh night. Prepare yourselves humbly.”
“As you wish.”
Namgung Ga-ju replied smoothly.
Finally, Ma Yeon-jeok turned toward Jeong Yeon-shin. His gaze faltered slightly, as if checking his grandson’s reaction. In an instant, his demeanor softened.
“I regret not accompanying you from the start.”
“No, Grandfather. I heard you were on an assignment from the fortress lord.”
“I completed it early. When I entered Huizhou, I saw a formidable blood fiend stalking you from a distance. It prevented me from intervening easily.”
“A blood fiend...?”
“It appeared to be an apostle of the Bloodflame Cult.”
Ma Yeon-jeok clicked his tongue in annoyance and continued.
“Do not worry. The elder of the fortress is pursuing her. Even if he’s a clumsy old man, his strength is certain. Soon, he will return with her head.”
“The fortress elder...”
“Let’s move to another place. How can one meditate and regulate their qi amidst such filth?”
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded silently and followed Ma Yeon-jeok. Namgung Hwa-shin trailed closely behind, casting a brief glance back.
***
Jeong Yeon-shin unpacked his belongings at the largest guest inn in Huizhou. Everything, from the bedding to the drinking water, was of the highest quality.
He let himself relax, surrendering to the flow of time and mindfulness.
During this brief respite, Namgung Mi sent him a proposal for a sequential duel.
She suggested starting with the youngest participants, with the victor continuing to fight in subsequent matches.
The plan seemed intended for Namgung Hwa-shin and Jeong Yeon-shin to be defeated first, forcing them to surrender.
“What a petty scheme from those who don’t know their place. Even the Namgung lot has their limits. And to think they allow such arrogance to go unchecked,” Ma Yeon-jeok scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain as he skimmed through the letter.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at Namgung Hwa-shin.
“I believe we should accept. What do you think, Namgung So-hyeop?”
If they agreed, White Qilin’s chances of taking the stage would disappear. Namgung Hwa-shin would only get his turn after Jeong Yeon-shin’s inevitable defeat against So-ga-ju.
For Jeong Yeon-shin, this was preferable. Having traveled with Namgung siblings, he was acutely aware of Namgung Hwa-shin’s mental state being the real issue.
As the head of the Namgung assassins, Namgung Hwa-shin had been groomed as a shadow enforcer. However, a sorcery-induced prohibition against harming direct lineage members had deeply ingrained itself into his psyche.
Expecting White Qilin to achieve a dramatic victory was a futile hope. Reality didn’t align with heroic tales.
‘This belongs in a legend,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
“......”
Would he bring shame to Ipwang Fortress? Or would he struggle and achieve vengeance for his mother on his own?
After much contemplation, Namgung Hwa-shin agreed to the sequential duel. This would likely be his only opportunity to overcome the shackles of his past.
That evening, Jeong Yeon-shin silently stayed by his companion’s side for a long time.
Days passed. As Jeong Yeon-shin refined his martial techniques, the festival of the seventh evening finally arrived. Perhaps because he had been tirelessly active during this period, his focus sharpened to the point of entering an entirely different state of awareness.
‘The fourth technique of Shihwa Muguk Hand... I think I can perfect it in live combat.’
On the day of the life-and-death duel between Ipwang Fortress and the Namgung Clan:
Jeong Yeon-shin lounged on his bed, reclining with ease. He suddenly closed the book of the Diamond Sutra he had been reading. The words “Reside nowhere, but bring forth the awakened mind” folded shut with it.
“Today is the day! My, how exciting,” someone remarked.
“Who’s your bet on?”
“Surely, the Namgung Clan in Nanjili. It’s hard to name anyone in the world who could beat So-ga-ju among younger masters.”
“That’s meaningless. What about the Ipwang Fortress Sword Corps Captain?”
“And what of Namgung Ga-ju?”
While So-ga-ju had lamented a poor harvest just a few days ago, Huizhou was now enjoying unprecedented prosperity.
People from across the martial world had flocked to witness this earth-shaking duel. Warriors, merchants, commoners, and even royals gathered in droves.
The city was alive with chaos, reaching a fever pitch. Gambling on the outcome was rampant, and the streets seethed with a frenzied energy.
“Jeong So-hyeop.”
Namgung Hwa-shin called to him, his expression grim. Jeong Yeon-shin rose slowly from his seat.
‘Namgung Mi isn’t the issue.’
The boy’s thoughts turned to So-ga-ju. The very idea of him sent a burning excitement through his mind.
The fear of death, the competitive spirit of a martial artist, and his intrigue in the supreme martial art, the Emperor Sword Form, all coalesced.
It no longer mattered. He could see nothing else.
When Jeong Yeon-shin stepped out of the inn, the bustling cityscape unfolded before him. The unfamiliar faces of the Sword Corps Captain and the strongest members of the Seventeen Divisions blurred into the background.
Before he knew it, he stood in the heart of Qingya Valley, where he had once been captured by the Seventh Apostle.
―――!
The vast gorge was filled with people.
“Chang Ryeong-hwaju! Just one glance this way! I adore you!”
“Seomye of Ipwang Fortress! Don’t you dare harm our lady!”
“Seomye Jeong So-hyeop! Restore justice to the martial world!”
The scene resembled an army preparing for a decisive battle, with the crowd thundering like a storm. It was as though all of the martial world had gathered here.
“I’ve been curious about you, but I suppose I’ll have to examine your corpse instead.”
Namgung Mi stood with a sly smile, already in position for the duel. She was surrounded by Namgung Clan members and warriors of the Sword Corps on all sides.
“You and Hwa-shin... I could never feel any fondness for either of you.”
Her lips curved into a taunt as the blade in her hand gleamed brilliantly. The frosty energy radiating from it surged forward with chilling force.
Wooong!
Jeong Yeon-shin raised his Jeong Family Core Technique to its peak. Since the battle against the Seventh Apostle, he hadn’t invoked this power to such an extent.
He envisioned the enemy before him as one of the Seven Apostles of the Bloodflame Cult. Only by doing so could he end this quickly.
The Grandmaster-level Donggong activated, filling his eight extraordinary meridians and twelve standard meridians with blazing energy.
Namgung Mi stepped forward with mysterious footwork. Her movements were light, her next step unpredictable.
It was said that the Namgung Clan’s martial artists studied the Book of Changes and mastered the eight trigrams, incorporating these principles into their techniques.
In an instant, Jeong Yeon-shin unleashed the Circular Step of Hwanikbo. It was the same move he had used to break through the Swordmaster’s momentum during his ascent in Ipwang Fortress.
Step.
The wind from his footwork swept away all surrounding energy. His stride unraveled the illusions before him.
Namgung Mi’s elegant movements halted abruptly, as if a curtain had been pulled back.
“Ah...?”
Perhaps her upper dantian had perceived the shift. Terror clouded her once-beautiful face.
The incomplete techniques she had shown earlier had only planted overconfidence in her. She had underestimated him far too much.
‘We’re no longer comrades.’
Kiing!
A streak of light gathered in Jeong Yeon-shin’s right hand as he drew his sword like a comet and struck upward.
The blade of the Ipwang Sword plunged into Namgung Mi’s protective qi, shredding it apart.
The trajectory of the Gwanghwa Sword Style cut through without hesitation, and in an instant, a streak of white severed her neck.
The hilt in his hand relayed the sensation clearly. Her head had been fully severed.
Hwaaaah!
The resulting force whipped through the air, creating a gale. The Ipwang Sword carved a crescent-shaped arc before returning smoothly to its sheath.
Namgung Mi’s lifeless body fell as Jeong Yeon-shin’s blade slid back into place.
It had taken one strike.
“I’m not interested in who you are,” he muttered calmly to the corpse.
The vast Qingya Valley fell silent, as if all the flames had been extinguished.
