"Do you question the evaluation of your nature?"
"No."
"Are you curious about the testing method? It's simple."
The examiner spoke in a detached tone.
"Perform the fastest sword technique you can. One strike is enough. I'll watch and judge."
'Simple.'
Jung Yeonshin felt relieved.
He had expected a more complicated process.
Unlike Jung Yeonshin , Heon Wonchang, who looked nervous, seemed to think differently. But relying on a single strike to evaluate skill, though it might seem narrow-minded, could also be considered generous.
Jung Yeonshin had experienced firsthand how battles were full of variables.
It seemed this first test was merely a filter.
"Can I begin right away?"
He took a few steps back and asked. The examiner nodded.
"I-I'll go first!"
It was Heon Wonchang. He looked at Jung Yeonshin and mouthed an apology.
'I'm too nervous. Sorry.'
Jung Yeonshin, who didn't mind, gave a small nod.
Heon Wonchang stepped into the position and gripped the hilt of his sword.
He glanced briefly at the examiner, who stood with arms crossed, ready to observe at any moment. Then, his expression hardened as he took his stance.
Though it wasn't a particularly remarkable form, Jung Yeonshin sensed the pulse of energy rising from his entire body.
'Strong.'
It was a well-honed aura, sharper than any wandering swordsman they had encountered on the way to Yangyang.
'When energy is refined, there's no waste. You can put all your strength into the blade.'
While Jung Yeonshin was reflecting, Heon Wonchang drew his sword, and the air split apart.
"Whoa! That martial artist is different."
"I couldn't see it at all."
"I only caught a faint blur."
The spectators burst into admiration, and gamblers placed quick bets on whether he would pass.
"Not bad."
The examiner nodded.
Heon Wonchang's face lit up with a bright smile as the examiner took his numbered token.
Returning to Jung Yeonshin's side, Heon Wonchang whispered.
"In this first test, if the examiner takes your token, you pass. If he returns it and tells you to leave it at the reception desk, you fail."
"You've passed this test before?"
"Hmm. The second test, the sparring match, was always the problem."
"There's a third test too?"
"A meeting with the Lord of Desolate Fortress. Many martial artists come to Yangyang just for that. They hope to gain insight, a realization."
"I see."
Jung Yeonshin nodded and stepped forward.
Those who had reacted differently to the outcome of Heon Wonchang's test, as well as those who had doubted him earlier, now showed expressions of curiosity.
"Was he really an applicant?"
"A young swordsman with guts."
"Well, if he's from another region, when else would he get a chance to demonstrate his skills in front of the warriors of Desolate Fortress?"
"Even hearing a single word of advice would be a valuable experience."
Among the murmuring spectators, the gamblers didn't even bother placing bets this time.
Some watched with smiles, as if expecting nothing more than a performance.
Quietly placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, Jung Yeonshin looked at the examiner.
The examiner gave a calm nod.
"You may begin."
In the next moment—
"······."
Nothing happened.
The only change was that Jung Yeonshin's sword was already drawn.
It was as if the scene had skipped a frame while their eyes blinked.
Only the examiner, whose face stiffened for a moment, gave a nod.
"The future of Desolate Fortress is here."
An incredible praise.
The spectators and Heon Wonchang reacted with disbelief.
Some gaped with their mouths open, while others turned to their neighbors to confirm what they had just heard.
Heon Wonchang's dumbfounded expression was particularly amusing.
Jung Yeonshin, however, was surprised for a different reason.
'I didn't even see myself draw the sword.'
Apparently, the examiner had seen the swift strike that even Jung Yeonshin himself could not perceive.
Perhaps this was what they called Sight Arts—the martial art of seeing through an opponent's moves.
"Hand me your token."
"······Yes."
"Hmm. Number thirteen."
The examiner accepted the token, tracing the numbers on it with his fingers as if engraving it into memory.
There seemed to be a mix of emotions in the examiner's gaze as he looked at Jung Yeonshin .
He seemed to resign himself to something, closing his eyes briefly before giving a slight nod. It was a signal to leave.
"Well then."
Jung Yeonshin sheathed his sword and offered a formal salute before stepping out of the training grounds.
Heon Wonchang, who had been frozen in place, hurried to catch up.
The glances cast at him from up close were a bit bothersome.
"What is it?"
"Well, uh... might you be a descendant of some renowned martial clan?"
Jung Yeonshin smiled at the cautious question.
"Would that make any difference? From what I know, once we enter Desolate Fortress, martial skill, talent, and effort are all that matter."
"Ha... you truly intend to pass the Desolate Fortress trials."
"Isn't that why we're here? Not just me, but you as well, Heon Wonchang."
"...That's true. You're right."
Heon Wonchang fell silent.
Staying at a different inn, he didn't say much after that and eventually bid farewell.
Jung Yeonshin hoped to pass the second trial alongside that friendly and talkative man.
* * *
The intervals between the first and second tests were one week and two months, respectively.
By the time Jung Yeonshin had passed the first test, about three weeks remained until the second.
During that time, he trained in Jung Jung Clan Movement Arts, Swift Sword Technique, and his self-created Qi movement method, which he had named Scripture of Origin Ability.
He practiced all three in the mountains outside the town where his inn was located, and focused on refining the Scripture of Origin Ability in his room.
Though inventing new techniques had its allure, he believed it was wiser to hone what he already had, given the upcoming combat trial.
Bimu, a sparring match where martial skills were tested.
The final Desolate Fortress Trial concluded with a demonstration of one's martial prowess alongside a partner.
Jung Yeonshin devoted all his remaining time to training. Meanwhile, Heon Wonchang didn't visit him even once.
-Murmurs and chatter.
And now.
"This place..."
Inside Desolate Fortress, there were dozens of grand and ornate halls.
All the martial artists walking by exuded an overwhelming presence.
Clusters of pavilions stood alongside breathtaking natural scenery, with a distant horizon stretching beyond sight.
While following the guide, Jung Yeonshin saw others in the same situation as himself.
"This is the world's greatest martial academy..."
"They say those in white uniforms are novices, but how can their auras be so imposing?"
"Isn't that obvious? Even wearing white guarantees a promising future."
"I wonder what hidden dragons will emerge this time..."
"I, Cho Mulyang of Huangshan, will soon spread my wings as a dragon!"
Though they seemed like strangers, they chatted easily. Jung Yeonshin, meanwhile, spotted a familiar face.
The person noticed him too, his expression brightening as he approached.
"Jung Yeonshin! You've grown taller!"
"Heon Wonchang, you look well too."
"Had a small breakthrough, perhaps."
Heon Wonchang, still sporting his signature yellow dragon headband, rubbed the area under his nose.
"Still, there's no telling. Winning isn't what matters here. They say you only need to catch the attention of the masters observing the matches, even if you participate in just one of the two bi-mu rounds... but that's the hardest part."
"You could win the match and still fail?"
"Exactly. And it's clear the judges' standards will be even higher today."
"Why's that?"
"Looks like you haven't heard the rumors. They say the White Qilin will be participating today."
"The White Qilin? The Namgoong Clan?"
"Precisely. He's already famous. Rumor has it he wiped out an infamous bandit gang before turning fifteen, killed the swordmaster of the Unorthodex Faction, The Shrouded Assassin... and by eighteen, he defeated all his peers at the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly of the Eight Great Clans. That gathering is for forging connections among elites, yet no one disputed the story, so it must be true."
For once, Jung Yeonshin couldn't hide his surprise.
A martial artist strong enough to earn the title of Qilin, a legendary beast—was indeed exceptional.
Hearing such stories made his journey into the martial world feel all the more real.
"If he's a prodigy of the Namgoong Clan, why would he need to come to Desolate Fortress? Isn't he already complete?"
"Probably because he's a concubine's son. He can't inherit the clan leadership."
Heon Wonchang leaned closer and whispered.
Jung Yeonshin frowned at the breath against his ear and quickly stepped back.
Laughing as if they'd never been strangers, Heon Wonchang continued.
"The Lord of Desolate Fortress is said to be of noble blood, holding his youthful appearance for over two centuries. Even becoming a Captain here is more prestigious than being the head of one of the Eight Great Clans. In fact, their authority might be even greater. They oversee the order of the martial world at the very center of Zhongnan."
"Is it really that significant?"
"Desolate Fortress has a hand in every major incident across the martial world. Didn't you know that? Or are you from some remote village?"
Jung Yeonshin said nothing and kept walking.
Heon Wonchang followed, smiling like an older brother watching over a younger sibling.
"Wait here. When your name is called, proceed to the training ground."
The attendant left behind about thirty hopeful applicants.
They had stopped in a small garden behind the massive training ground.
On the opposite side, another group had gathered.
Green sprouts pushed through the earth, and flowers bloomed in clusters, but no one paid attention to the scenery.
Some meditated with closed eyes, while others stared blankly into space.
Jung Yeonshin circulated his Qi with subtle movements, waiting patiently.
One by one, names were called from both groups.
They sparred in the center, surrounded by seated Desolate Fortress martial artists.
Winners left toward the north with heads held high, while those heading south slumped in defeat.
"How do they even manage..."
Heon Wonchang couldn't hide his nerves.
"Everyone here passed the first trial, so none of them lack talent. Even I was called a martial prodigy back home."
He tried to sound lighthearted, but his tension was clear.
"To be selected among such talents, and to display martial arts in front of Desolate Fortress's masters..."
"Isn't it thrilling?"
"Hm?"
"Being recognized for talent is exciting. It's far better than being dismissed as strange."
"Jung Yeonshin..."
Heon Wonchang began to respond when—
"Nanyang, Hanem Province! Jung Yeonshin from Xinye, step forward!"
An attendant rushed in and called out.
"I hope we meet again. Here, in Desolate Fortress."
Jung Yeonshin rested his left hand on his sword and walked out with measured steps.
From behind, Heon Wonchang shouted,
"We definitely will!"
The first match was underwhelming.
His opponent, seemingly self-trained in some remote village, was odd from the start.
The martial world had many schools and doctrines, but those without formal training often lived in their own realities.
In this world, survival was the only law.
"A moth flying into the flame without knowing its fate!"
The swordsman grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
The moment the match began, Jung Yeonshin struck the opponent's mouth with the scabbard.