The fallen corpse of the Praying Mantis Sect's leader brought silence.
The reckless strike had clearly been effective.
The sinister smiles of the surrounding Praying Mantis Sect members had completely vanished.
"······."
The body of the Praying Mantis Sect's leader bore the overwhelming traces of sword strikes.
The pungent scent of blood rising heavily in the air made the unreal death all too real.
Jung Yeonshin turned his head away from the brutally sprawled-out corpse and opened his mouth.
He held the blood-dripping Desolate Sword firmly in his grip.
"Today, the Praying Mantis Sect's signboard will be shattered."
"What, what did you say?"
"C-crazy······!"
At last, the Praying Mantis Sect disciples, stunned, stepped back in shock.
Murmurs of unseen, unheard swordsmanship spread along with the oppressive silence.
In the narrow martial world they lived in, Jung Yeonshin's sword carried such meaning.
He pressed forward. He gave his enemies no time to think.
Though his energy was not fully restored after unleashing the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike, with the senses he had gained here, these opponents were manageable.
Step.
At his step forward, many of the cowards retreated in unison.
The loyalty of martial artists in the unorthodox world was different from the faith of chivalrous warriors.
They were men who bought and sold martial arts. Lives were traded for coins.
The exceptions were rare, as shown by what lay before his eyes now.
"Kill him! Let's kill him!"
"Madman, you go first."
"He's a monster we can't fight!"
"A divine sword······!"
A monster and a divine sword—such words made Jung Yeonshin realize that the martial world was not the same everywhere.
Such words would never be heard in the Desolate Fortress.
'There's nothing more to gain here.'
Jung Yeonshin began slashing once again. These were not the same foes he had first faced.
Their morale had crumbled, and his swift sword pierced through their weakened defenses.
The Praying Mantis Sect disciples could not withstand his swordsmanship.
At last, some of them began to flee.
"Argh!"
"It's over! This is annihilation!"
"Call the Execution Sword! The Execution Sword!"
Among the chaos, one of them shouted words that froze everyone in place.
Even Jung Yeonshin paused momentarily.
If the Execution Sword they called upon was one trusted by the unorthodox sects, it could only mean the Blood Master Swordsman of the Blood Flame Cult.
"Answer me. Was the Blood Flame Cult behind this? Were the abducted people offered to them?"
He seized one of the men's arms with a joint lock, snapping it, while pressing the sharp blade of his sword against the man's throat.
The man, drenched in cold sweat, shouted desperately.
"Y-yes! That's right! They're probably in the annex right now, sleeping! They always are!"
"You don't know true masters."
Could they not feel a fight of this magnitude?
"Please, spare me······!"
Faced with life and death, mercy had already been cast aside.
Without hesitation, Jung Yeonshin's blade swept across the man's neck.
The enhanced energy circulating through him carried the essence of the Limit Releasing Technique.
The layered energy filled the meridians of his right arm, waist, and lower body, forming the stance of an immovable ancient tree rooted deeply into the ground.
Clang!
A sudden strike clashed against the Desolate Sword. Not even the sound of air splitting followed.
At the same time, only the sight of crimson hair brushed past Jung Yeonshin's forehead.
The vibration that spread through his grip created a resonance stronger than anyone in the Praying Mantis Sect had.
"The Blood Execution Sword."
"You blocked that? Then this massacre must be your doing."
"Massacre? Such words should not come from the Blood Flame Cult."
Jung Yeonshin answered calmly, looking straight ahead.
He was the same as the one he had seen in Zhenping County.
Black and red hair mixed together, dressed in a blood-red martial robe, with bloodstains smeared around his mouth.
In his hand, he held an iron sword, exuding an ominous aura from head to toe.
Jung Yeonshin recalled Ma Jin's remarks when discussing his achievements.
He had joked that cutting down about five Blood Master Swordsmen would earn anyone, regardless of age, the rank of a Blue Warrior.
It was, of course, a joke.
The Blood Flame Cult was not an enemy one frequently encountered.
"Luck is on my side."
"What?"
"Only three remain."
"······."
Previously, someone like this would have charged at him the moment he spoke.
This time was different.
Sensing Jung Yeonshin's imposing presence, the man shifted his feet cautiously, stepping sideways.
It was true—the Blood Master Swordsman was a rare and powerful martial artist.
Unlike the Praying Mantis Sect members, he could sense Jung Yeonshin's energy.
Jung Yeonshin didn't wait.
Taat!
His foot struck the ground, once again infused with energy.
By the second step, he unleashed True Step.
With a heavy resonance, he charged in, executing the Swift Sword of Radiant Demon Arts.
A streak of light collided with the opponent's sword.
Clang!
Thanks to seizing the initiative, he put significant force behind his attack.
Though blocked, he had clearly overpowered his opponent.
He decided to end it here. This was not an easy opponent.
He was still in the heart of the Praying Mantis Sect. The longer the fight dragged on, the lower his chances of winning.
In an instant, Jung Yeonshin's sharp senses, honed through countless battles, scanned his opponent from head to toe.
His piercing gaze traced even the gathering energy in his opponent's left hand, preparing a palm technique.
'Right now.'
Instinct took over. Instead of clashing techniques, he chose to reach the end first.
The decision, transcending thought, transformed into energy that coiled around the Desolate Sword.
He combined the Swift Sword of Radiant Demon Squad with the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike.
His sword and body became one, folding the space between them.
Thud-!
With minimal force, he pierced straight through.
This was the essence of the Swift Sword—to ensure survival without depth.
Tiny droplets of blood scattered into the air.
"Huff······!"
The ominous energy unique to the Blood Flame Cult began to dissipate.
The eyes of the second Blood Master Swordsman widened in disbelief.
In such places, he had the presence of a grim reaper.
To die like this was unfathomable.
Jung Yeonshin could feel the man's despair directly through the vibrations of his sword.
With venomous eyes, the Blood Master Swordsman opened his mouth.
"Y-you······."
"I don't listen to the last words."
His arm muscles tensed sharply. Without even channeling energy, he tore the blade sideways, turning away.
The dying sound of his opponent collapsing faded into the background.
"Do not run away."
He spoke quietly.
The men, who had been silently retreating as if they had mastered the stealth techniques of the Noble Clan, froze in place.
His voice, devoid of any core energy, completely dominated the Praying Mantis Sect.
In front of the people of Lianhu County, Jung Yeonshin shattered the Praying Mantis Sect's signboard.
While some rejoiced, trampling the broken pieces, others broke down in tears, clutching the bodies of their emaciated family members.
A dozen corpses had been discovered in the annex and backyard of the Praying Mantis Sect.
It was just like Zhenping County. Despite the unexpected accomplishment, the feeling was bitter.
With a large sack slung over his back, Jung Yeonshin glanced behind him.
Some had survived, but the Praying Mantis Sect disciples who had lost their right arms were being trampled by the villagers.
Although they had practiced unorthodox martial arts, their energy cores had been shattered.
Unable to control their bodies and missing limbs, they were completely crippled.
"The Tyrant Sword Tribe should be under the jurisdiction of Zhongnan Sect."
What had they been doing all this time? Jung Yeonshin's murmuring prompted a reaction from Jangsan, who had been wiping away tears.
He had just finished wrapping his daughter's body in cloth and carrying it on his back.
"Isn't the Zhongnan Sect at war with the Tyrant Sword Tribe?"
His bloodshot eyes and faltering voice conveyed his sorrow.
Jung Yeonshin's brow furrowed.
"Zhongnan, with the Tyrant Sword Tribe······?"
He had never heard such rumors before.
The conversation came to an abrupt halt. Memories of his only niece and the Zhongnan Sect masters flashed through his mind.
At the end stood the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader, an absolute force who had destroyed an entire family.
Even now, the reason remained unknown.
"When did this start?"
"I don't know exactly. I only heard that the martial halls under Zhongnan began packing up and heading to Zhongnan Mountain······."
"······."
Jung Yeonshin fell silent.
If their opponent was the Tyrant Sword Tribe, Zhongnan Sect would have to risk everything.
A head-on clash would not end with just one or two masters dying.
There were plenty of reasons for such a conflict.
The Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader had once cut off the ear of Zhongnan's Great Elder, Yeo Il-shin.
Whether before or after, it wasn't the first time they had crossed swords.
Even the annihilation of the Jung family, which Jung Yeonshin still didn't fully understand, was suspicious.
The timing was too convenient—the Zhongnan Sect masters had been staying at the Jung estate when it happened.
His young niece, Hye-ah, bore no fault.
He could only hope that his second brother, Jung Jungsan, was protecting her properly.
'I must go to Zhongnan.'
Ma Jin would surely allow it.
The Thirteen Demonic Skies were supreme in the unorthodox martial world.
They were bound to interfere, and cutting down the Tyrant Sword Tribe's masters would be an undeniable merit.
Jung Yeonshin now had the backing of Desolate Fortress.
He also possessed the strength to stand against most martial artists.
'I can earn merit as well. It's time to find out.'
Why had the Jung family fallen?
What connection did the Tyrant Sword Tribe and Blood Flame Cult share?
And why had they destroyed his family?
Zhongnan Sect might have the answers.
"You have released my daughter's soul along with her grievances······."
"Young master, I cannot thank you enough! Truly······!"
"This man's name is Jung Yeonshin of the Jung family! Do not forget it!"
"Master Jung! Master Jung!"
Jangsan and the villagers thanked him repeatedly as he turned to leave.
When they offered to host a feast in his honor, he declined, telling them to use the food for the funerals instead.
From that moment, people began murmuring his name, as if branding it into their memories.
Resting one hand lightly on his sword's hilt and gripping the end of the sack on his back with the other, Jung Yeonshin moved quickly, passing the hills beyond Lianhu County.
It was then that he spoke.
"Did you find traces of the Twin Demons?"
Jung Yeonshin paused as he asked, his voice calm.
The nearby bushes rustled, and two figures emerged.
One was a swordsman exuding sharp energy, and the other was a young Taoist boy who carried an air of distinction.
It was the Heavenly Swordmaster of the Mount Hua Sect and Yoo Hyun, the heir of Mount Hua Sect's leader.
"It doesn't seem to be the Praying Mantis Sect."
Perhaps because he had witnessed the destruction of an entire clan, the Heavenly Swordmaster's tone was far more respectful than before.
He no longer treated Jung Yeonshin as just another promising talent but as a legitimate force from Desolate Fortress.
Jung Yeonshin nodded and spoke.
"I see. That's unfortunate."
"I was impressed by your martial prowess. It felt as if I stood before the future leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, or perhaps even the Divine Sword Squad."
The Heavenly Swordmaster patted Yoo Hyun on the back of the head.
As his Taoist cap wobbled, Yoo Hyun grimaced slightly and glanced at Jung Yeonshin.
His previously languid expression now looked unusually sharp.
"It was my first defeat. I can't stop thinking about it—I even fell off my bed remembering your Five-step Lightning Technique."
"Your first defeat?"
Jung Yeonshin tilted his head slightly.
Yoo Hyun waved his hands.
"All my seniors and juniors are older than me. The only ones my age are useless in martial arts."
"No peers in Mount Hua?"
"I'm the only disciple of my generation in the main line."
"So?"
At Jung Yeonshin's indifferent response, Yoo Hyun glanced downward.
"······Why don't we befriend each other? You seem interested in Mount Hua's martial arts anyway. Huguang isn't far from Shaanxi."
"There's no reason for me to visit Mount Hua."
"Uh······."
"But if you come to me, I won't turn you away. Just bring a new martial art each time."
Yoo Hyun, clearly unused to rejection, looked flustered.
However, Jung Yeonshin's final words brightened his face.
On the way to Xian's gathering point, Jung Yeonshin endured Yoo Hyun's chatter.
Unlike Heon Wonchang, Yoo Hyun talked endlessly, mainly about martial theories.
The orthodox principles of the Nine Great Sects and Sect martial arts proved helpful to Jung Yeonshin.
Occasionally, the Heavenly Swordmaster's remarks provided moments of near-revelation.
'This could be useful. A visit from Mount Hua might be worth it.'
After a full day's walk, they arrived at their first inn in Xian.
That was where the peace ended.
Jung Yeonshin entered Ma Jin's room.
"Your energy flow has shifted slightly again."
"You were slashed across the back. Sit down, I'll apply golden wound balm."
"Ma Jin, the mission······"
With Chung Myung, Baek Miryeo, Ma Jin, and Heon Wonchang watching, Jung Yeonshin spoke of his plan to go to Zhongnan.
Just as Ma Jin was about to voice his concerns, Jung Yeonshin opened the sack and poured out its contents.
"Ah!"
"······!"
Inside were the head of the Blood Master Swordsman and the shattered Praying Mantis Sect's signboard.