Several days passed as Jung Yeonshin devoted himself to training.
Chung Myung occasionally cast strange looks at him, but given his free-spirited and detached nature, he let it slide.
The art of the Noble Clan's mobility arts, which Jung Yeonshin was mastering day by day, was too captivating to divert his focus elsewhere.
Lightness techniques are about speed. Naturally, achieving proficiency in nimble body movements influences their mastery.
It didn't take long for the inspiration he gained from Chung Myung's movements to crystallize into guiding principles.
Though he had only constructed the framework for channeling core energy, leaving much room for improvement, as the founder of the art, he inevitably grasped its essence.
"A practitioner learns and acquires, but a grandmaster creates and masters. Even a first step by the latter cannot be equated to the achievements of the former."
Baek Miryeo said .
While tracking the traces of the Blood Flame Cult and guarding against reinvasion, Radiant Demon Squad's group also observed Jung Yeonshin's movements transforming day by day.
Jung Yeonshin, unconcerned about who might be watching, didn't bother to hide his training, but others refrained from spying on his practice.
Instead, they only speculated on his progress based on the principle that higher-level martial arts naturally refine a warrior's bearing.
"The qualities of a martial art founder… I can't deny it, but it's hard to believe even while watching. Our leader has chosen to focus on protecting himself instead."
Since spotting Jung Yeonshin beneath the net hammock, Chung Myung had taken to sleeping inside the government office.
A month had passed since their encounter with the Blood Flame Cult.
They had gained nothing. Not that they hadn't seen the enemy again.
The village's cows, horses, pigs, and chickens continued to die off, little by little.
It became clear that the Blood Flame Cult's aim was not simply livestock slaughter but to cut into the villagers' nerves.
Yet, they never approached the farmland, likely because Chung Myung was keeping a sharp watch.
Chung Myung cared little about how many livestock died, satisfied only with playing the role of a menacing scarecrow.
This caused disputes.
When Baek Miryeo mapped out patrol routes, Chung Myung would climb into the net hammock, claiming he needed to soak up sunlight.
Frustrated, Baek Miryeo alternated between taking Heon Wonchang and Jung Yeonshin along with her.
"That bastard. He's definitely not alone. He knows our patrol routes inside out. Another horse was killed this time."
The remote placement of the government office's stable, influenced by the local magistrate's aversion to smells, was an issue.
A single horse was of immense value, especially in Zhenping County, where resources were scarce.
Heon Wonchang, who had approached unnoticed, looked up at the net hammock.
His expression was far from pleasant. Having received fundamental martial teachings, he had grown comfortable around Jung Yeonshin.
"How can you be so nonchalant? Are you really of the Noble tribe? A horse has died!"
"Yesterday, it was a pig."
Jung Yeonshin remarked in passing.
"Our tribe are friends of the forest, not of horses and pigs."
Unless you die, that is. Chung Myung added.
"Then I'll make sure to wipe out their entire lineage myself."
Jung Yeonshin chuckled and walked away toward the washing area.
It was said that Noble Tribe's raised in Desolate Fortress were typically free-spirited and unburdened by heavy blades.
Contrary to the typical image of celestial beings, they were different.
As a martial artist of Desolate Fortress, Jung Yeonshin increasingly came to understand the world.
After washing up, he found a feast prepared. The plump magistrate rubbed his hands nervously, eyeing them.
The thought crossed Jung Yeonshin's mind that, should this man rise to the capital, he'd likely turn into a sycophant. However, considering the magistrate had spent a month witnessing martial artists dashing across the fields like shadows, he understood the behavior.
"P-please, help yourselves."
The magistrate forced a smile. After avoiding them for a while, it seemed he had made up his mind about something.
Having little interest, Jung Yeonshin sat with the Radiant Demon Squad's group and discussed their plans.
How should they restructure their surveillance network? How many allies could they count on? Given the vastness of the surrounding mountains, should they proceed with searches and raids?
Through these discussions over the past month, Jung Yeonshin had come to realize something.
There are many kinds of battles in the world, and the short, decisive duels preferred by most masters are not so easily achieved in reality.
After finishing his meal, he spent some time training before retiring to his now-familiar bedding.
The call of a scops owl, like the sound of a short bamboo flute, filled the tranquil night of this novice journey into the martial world.
The next day, Jung Yeonshin set out alone. It was easy to gain permission from Baek Miryeo and Chung Myung.
They underestimated the martial skills of the reluctant allies who wouldn't dare descend from Desolate Fortress, fearing its elite warriors.
The two masters placed high confidence in Jung Yeonshin's chances of defeating the Blood Flame Cult in direct combat.
A fast runner would struggle to overcome his current level of martial prowess.
'Strange.'
To the eyes of the Jung family, Desolate Fortress might as well have been a realm of immortals.
Being fully recognized by the blue-robe Warriors sometimes felt oddly surreal.
'Not bad, though.'
Whether it was thanks to his rapid progress in mobility arts or just his mood, he felt lighter on his feet as he ascended the mountain.
Unlike Chung Myung, he couldn't afford to take it easy.
Until the previous day, he had focused on mastering his techniques, but he couldn't continue doing only that.
Frustrated, he decided to climb to the mountain's peak for a full view of the area.
Considering it an extension of his training, he explored paths his group hadn't searched before.
It was near sunset when he finally discovered a strange hut in front of a cave.
It looked like a door or passageway.
After a month of effort, the group's work had borne fruit.
'So that's it. The smoke was escaping through another opening. I suspected they weren't surviving solely on fasting pills, but this explains why we couldn't find them.'
Without much thought, he turned away.
If an unavoidable situation arose, he wouldn't hesitate to risk his life.
However, in a moment of calm, he had no intention of creating unnecessary variables.
He had entered Desolate Fortress to survive and claim the fruits of the World Tree.
If he were to die meaninglessly, those fruits, or anything else, would be rendered worthless.
Crushing the dirt underfoot with measured tension and excitement, Jung Yeonshin suddenly changed his mind.
"You there?"
He came face-to-face with a red-haired man, who was ascending with the body of a young boy impaled on his teeth.
An unfamiliar face, shabby clothing, yet unmistakably blood-red hair.
The Blood Flame Cult.
Just as the rumors described. Stories of those who drained the vitality of children to enhance their martial power.
Despite being declared a heretical cult by the empire, its influence had not waned.
The Blood Flame Cult's blood arts were said to be practiced through countless methods, so gruesome that even the masters of Desolate Fortress shuddered at the thought.
Confronted with the reality of the rumors, Jung Yeonshin examined the man's physique, stance, and aura.
'An accomplice. The one who had been covering for the Blood Flame Cult.'
Slowly, his hand moved toward his sword.
"A kid with a sword, sharp killing intent, and the 'Desolate' character engraved on pristine robes…"
The man, eyeing Jung Yeonshin up and down, curled his lips into a grin.
"Just as I heard. Thanks to the brat from Desolate Fortress, I can earn some merit. I'm not like the cowardly brothers who fled from you. Curse your bad luck—"
Swoosh—!
In a flash of blinding white light, the man's head flew off.
The boy's lifeless body slipped from his grip.
Headless, the man's body stood momentarily before collapsing behind the child.
Jung Yeonshin, now standing beside the corpse, flicked the blood off his sword.
"Let's end this now."
He murmured.
Calling this bad luck? It didn't matter how many more there were.
If they couldn't even react to his blade, their numbers were irrelevant.
Even if this was his first mission involving the Blood Flame Cult, it certainly wasn't one that should take an entire month.
These people could not be left alive.
Utilizing his Limit Releasing Technique, he dug a grave.
After closing the boy's eyes and burying him, he didn't pile on too much dirt.
Though the victim likely wasn't from Zhenping County, Jung Yeonshin planned to ask the magistrate to find the child's parents once the mission was complete.
Still gripping his sword, he turned toward the hut.
As he channeled his energy, a cool breeze began to swirl around his steps.
His movements grew lighter with each stride.
The grass beneath his feet seemed to rise, untouched by his weight.
The sound of his steps faded away, as natural as the Noble clan's grace, until he reached the hut.
Boom!
His advance changed with a sudden stomp.
The once-peaceful grass flattened underfoot.
The Desolate Sword surged with immense power, cutting through the hut along with the Blood Flame Cult member inside.
Slash—!
"Urgh!"
"W-what?!"
Amidst the swirling dust and shattered wood fragments, two figures emerged—one, bisected and gasping, the other frozen in shock.
Both clutched corpses in their arms. This wasn't just Zhenping County's problem.
'Radiant Demon Art, Swift Sword Style.'
There was no need for words.
His condensed energy surged, sharpening his movements as it coursed through his veins.
Crack! Slash!
The Desolate Sword, guided by fierce intent, delivered strikes powerful enough to shatter and cut through flesh.
The vibrations traveling up his arm reflected Jung Yeonshin's barely-contained rage.
As blood sprayed, painting the scene in crimson, Jung Yeonshin sneered.
"You revere survival of the fittest? Fine."
The cultists, now resembling the corpses they had once toyed with, crumpled to the ground.
Beyond the hut's ruins, faint torchlights illuminated a cave entrance.
It was practically a Blood Flame Cult branch.
So, the cultists in Zhenping County were merely pawns.
'Can I handle this alone?'
He calculated his odds before entering.
Raging blood and survival instincts were separate matters, after all.
However, perhaps due to the noise he made at the entrance, the depths of the cave began to stir.
A sinister, powerful aura pulsed outward, like waves of pressure rippling through the air.
[Kill him!]
A voice boomed, like a hammer pounding his chest.
Simultaneously, footsteps echoed from all directions.
'Two, three… five.'
Five henchmen and one presumed branch leader.
Rumors claimed that Blood Flame Cult branch leaders, known as Blood Master Swordmans, were no ordinary warriors.
Their blades were said to both instruct and destroy.
But before he could assess whether he could take on the leader, the cultists charged.
"How dare you!"
"Pay in blood!"
Among the five red-haired cultists was the one from Zhenping County.
Momentarily surprised, he then sneered, gripping his blade tightly as he charged, emboldened by his comrades.
Jung Yeonshin did not retreat.
Instead, he stepped forward again.
Boom!
The reverberation of his stomp on the stone floor silenced their approach.
The cultists faltered, but Jung Yeonshin paid them no heed.
Infusing his Desolate Sword with Stormwind Blade, he spun, letting the Noble clan's wind dance through his strikes.
The first cultist he ever killed was from the Blood Flame Cult, but this time, his blade was on another level.
Swoosh—!
The silver arc of his blade cleaved through three bodies in a single stroke.
Their eyes, frozen with intent to kill, dimmed as they fell.
The surviving two were struck with terror.
The Zhenping County cultist tried to retreat, but Jung Yeonshin's blade, now an unstoppable storm, fell upon him.
Crunch—
The sound of flesh and bone being torn apart marked the end of his revenge.
"What the—?!"
The last cultist stumbled back but failed to dodge Jung Yeonshin's lightning-fast strike, falling with a gaping wound across his chest.
Wiping his blade clean, Jung Yeonshin fixed his gaze deeper into the cave.
What would it mean for a Desolate Fortress swordsman to slay a Blood Master
Swordman on his first mission?
He didn't care.
Step.
With each slow step, the clear ring of his sword resonated.
The Desolate Sword hummed, as if wishing luck upon its sole companion's impending battle.