The mountain was in an uproar.
They were in the process of fending off an attack and dealing with its aftermath.
The main forces of the Zhongnan Sect had struck one of the branches of the Tyrant Sword Tribe and returned.
Jung Yeonshin and Heon Wonchang were able to meet the ruler of Zhongnan Mountain after a day's wait, accompanied by Elder Yeo Il-shin, who had shown favor to Jung Yeonshin during the Jung Clan's annihilation.
"You have done us a great favor."
The Sect Leader of Zhongnan was an exceptionally handsome man.
With sharp, blade-like ears and clad in a yellow robe, he exuded the aura of a hero of the age.
He was Gu Yang-cheon, known as the Nine Yang Duke.
Said to be the son of Sect's Sword Master and Yeo Il-shin.
Though reputed to be seventy years old, he appeared no older than thirty.
It was evident he was of mixed Han and Ming descent. His ears alone revealed it.
"Jung Hye-ah is a child privately watched over by Sword Immortal. Since you saved a disciple of our sect, it is only proper to offer a reward."
Like most of the Ming, he was strikingly handsome, enough to remind one of celestial purity, but his demeanor was different.
As befitting the head of a prestigious sect, he was composed.
Gu Yang-cheon gazed steadily at Yeonshin and two others before speaking.
"Tell me what you desire from our sect."
Jung Yeonshin sensed the slight tremble of Heon Wonchang beside him.
It seemed he had never expected such a reward.
It was as if he could hear the gears in Heon's head spinning furiously.
He hoped there would be no unreasonable demands.
Asking for elixirs might lower their standing as honored guests.
So, he decided to speak first.
"Allow us to assist in the fight against the Tyrant Sword Tribe."
"Hmm."
The one who responded was Yeo Il-shin. She looked at Jung Yeonshin with a complicated expression before closing her eyes slightly.
She wanted to ask about the Jung Clan massacre but chose not to waste this opportunity on a personal matter.
"I heard Master Yeonshin recovered my father's legacy."
Gu Yang-cheon said, showing a faint trace of emotion.
"My father did not even pass down his teachings to his own son because I belonged to another sect. It is ironic that it ended up in the hands of the Desolate Fortress."
"I only drew inspiration from the sword techniques. I have no intention of mastering or spreading the Nine Yang Unified Arts."
"Magnanimous. Interesting."
Perhaps convinced by Jung Yeonshin's calmness, Gu Yang-cheon seemed to gain some insight into his peculiar disposition.
In Jung Yeonshin's view, his grandfather Ma Yeonjeok's martial prowess seemed diminished compared to his prime.
Otherwise, the gazes of the Nine Yang Duke and Elder Sword of Zhongnan would not have felt so intimidating.
"I heard you passed on the sword formulas to Myohwa. That too is a great favor. Even if you ask to stand at the vanguard, I cannot refuse."
In martial sect battles, the vanguard represents the face of the sect.
The Sect Leader of Zhongnan had given him high recognition.
Gu Yang-cheon's deep gaze did not leave Jung Yeonshin.
Even one praised as the mightiest swordsman in the western realm could not be free of his father's shadow.
A faint trace of love and resentment seemed to flicker in his eyes.
Yeo Il-shin was the same. The child she had seen during the Jung Clan massacre had now restored her husband's sword techniques.
"The workings of heaven are mysterious. How could fate be so intertwined…"
"I have something to ask Elder. At the time, there was no chance to speak of it."
Jung Yeonshin's words caused her expression to stiffen.
* * *
The sword of Wei-Ji Myohwa rose straight, blocking the sunlight.
A graceful high stance. The sunlight filtering softly from the midday sky blended clearly with the crisp air of Zhongnan Mountain.
Yet, amidst the tranquility, her sword alone felt out of place.
The sword forms of the Nine Yang Unified Arts were single, decisive strikes.
It was strange that Jung Yeonshin had created a flow in swordplay through the repetition of single strikes.
Swish!
The sword path, meant to strike down nine suns at once, faltered.
The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan clicked his tongue while watching from the side.
"You're utterly unable to focus."
"Sorry. I must be causing distractions."
"Is Yeonshin the problem?"
Wei-Ji Myohwa shook her head.
"No, it's my own mind."
She had already acknowledged Jung Yeonshin's swordsmanship completely. Her mental disturbance did not stem from jealousy.
Her character was not so small-minded.
It was just that the martial skills she had built up through a lifetime of effort suddenly felt meaningless.
It was closer to emptiness than envy.
"That sword technique, Radiance Sword Style, is no less than the Nine Yang Unified Arts. Am I correct?"
"You are."
The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan answered briefly, needing no further explanation for Jung Yeonshin's martial arts.
"It was beyond the level of initial completion. While sparring with me, he surpassed initial completion and quickly reached Intermediate, then Advanced Completion…"
"Creating such progressive martial arts and mastering them without prior experience—his achievements overwhelmed my Nine Yang Unified Arts."
"That child has already achieved your goal."
Wei-Ji Myohwa lowered her sword and looked at the Sword Immortal. He spoke slowly.
"He is a grandmaster who transcends his age. It is natural for one to excel quickly in techniques they themselves create. All human crafts and studies are the same. The creator's body fits them best. There is no martial art in the world exempt from this."
"He must have an unmatched talent, beyond even my reach…"
"Bodhidharma of Shaolin and Master Sam Bong of Wudang were the same. Sharing an era with such grandmasters can be a blessing, depending on your perspective. After all, you inherited the Nine Yang Unified Arts."
"...You're right. It is an unparalleled grace."
Wei-Ji Myohwa smiled faintly, a smile of resignation.
Her inner turmoil, tempered by her training as a disciple of Zhongnan, subsided forcibly.
Her pride as a swordswoman and her youthful vigor warned her not to be left behind, but she knew she could not keep turning her back on Jung Yeonshin forever.
In the near future, Wei-Ji Myohwa would be looking at Jung Yeonshin's back. She decided to accept that.
The gentle breeze brushed against her silk-like hair.
However, the grip on her sword did not immediately regain its strength.
Preparing to step down from her generation's pinnacle was no easy task. Her energy felt drained.
"…I was hesitant to say this."
The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan sighed. Although Jung Yeonshin might feel like a grandson, he could not compare to Wei-Ji Myohwa, whom he had practically raised as a granddaughter.
"You must keep this to yourself."
"Pardon?"
"It's about Yeonshin. His Baihui acupoint…"
Wei-Ji Myohwa looked puzzled as he continued.
"It was a subtle change. But it's different each day. He's absorbing the forces of nature excessively. It's not good. Even top-tier masters would struggle to handle it."
"What do you mean…"
"He doesn't have many days left. Yet, he struggles so desperately, as if trying to leave his mark upon the world."
With these shocking words, Wei-Ji Myohwa's eyes widened.
The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing blankly at a cloud-covered mountain peak.
"Regardless of his martial skills or age, I felt a sense of respect for him. I speak of Yeonshin."
* * *
After the discussion with Gu Yang-cheon and Yeo Il-shin.
News arrived that the Tyrant Sword Tribe had sent a battle challenge. It was brief but intense.
"Let us face each other three days after Yushui."
It was near the end of February.
In the martial world, a formal battle meant an all-out clash that could determine the fate of sects.
It was completely different from the sporadic skirmishes they had experienced so far.
A direct confrontation between the Thirteen Heavens and the Nine Sects. It was an event that shook the martial world.
The time was too short for sects across the Central Plains to respond. The day of the decisive battle approached swiftly.
Whoooosh—
The vast plains of Guanzhong were swept by fierce winds.
It was said this was the place where Wei-Ji Myohwa had once slain a sect leader and earned the title of Sword Dragon.
Jung Yeonshin stood among the disciples of Zhongnan Sect, looking straight ahead.
The group of about two hundred radiated sharp and intense energy.
The Tyrant Sword Tribe, one of the Thirteen Heavens. A sect that pursued the most tyrannical form of power in the world.
At the forefront stood a man Jung Yeonshin remembered vividly.
The Leader of the Tyrant Sword Tribe. His expressionless face was all too familiar.
He still planted his massive sword into the ground, exposing his aura without restraint.
Even from a thousand steps away, the overwhelming waves of energy surged forward.
Now that he had properly trained in martial arts, Jung Yeonshin could comprehend the absurd level of strength this man had built.
"That man is your enemy, isn't he, Master Jung?"
Heon Wonchang glared at the opponent, speaking as if he knew the story.
Somehow, their bond had grown deeper, and there was no sign of hesitation in him.
For the first time, Jung Yeonshin saw in him the qualities of a true hero.
Carrying gratitude in his heart, Jung Yeonshin stepped forward.
He approached the position where Gu Yang-cheon, the Sect Leader of Zhongnan, was watching the frontlines.
At that moment, someone stepped forward from the Tyrant Sword Tribe and shouted.
"The third disciple of the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader! I, Wei Mu-hyeok, challenge anyone who dares to face my sword!"
It was a proposal for a vanguard duel.
Such battles between mid-level experts were common in martial conflicts, serving to test each side's strength and morale.
Jung Yeonshin had already experienced one through Yoo Hyun of the Mount Hua Sect.
"I will now present my request, Sect Leader."
"Senior Disciple."
Gu Yang-cheon turned his head, locking eyes with him.
"As the one who recovered the legacy of the Sword Sect's Great Elder, the father of the Sect Leader and husband of Elder Yeo, I request the honor of representing the Zhongnan Sect as a guest."
"Master Jung."
Wei-Ji Myohwa, who had often shown complex expressions when looking at him, now gazed at him with a mixture of emotions.
Jung Yeonshin gave her a slight bow and then looked back at Gu Yang-cheon.
'I can do this.'
It was a position unfit for Wei-Ji Myohwa to step into.
He was slightly older than Wei Mu-hyeok and carried a reputation that set him apart.
Gu Yang-cheon slowly nodded.
If victory was necessary, there was no one among his peers more qualified than Jung Yeonshin.
"Go ahead."
"Thank you."
After bowing respectfully, he stepped forward.
From where she stood among the elders of Zhongnan Sect, Wei-Ji Myohwa's eyes followed his back.
Her gaze did not waver from the figure advancing ahead.
There stood a grandmaster, burning himself to leave his mark on the world.
"Truly, a remarkable young man."
The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan sighed as his words dispersed into the wind.
"Zhongnan Sect's fate is sealed."
Wei Mu-hyeok's first words upon facing Jung Yeonshin.
He seemed about seventeen or eighteen, a youth transitioning into adulthood.
Dressed in a flamboyant crimson robe, wielding an equally dazzling sword, Jung Yeonshin recalled seeing him briefly during the Jung Clan massacre. One of his enemies.
Wei Mu-hyeok scanned Jung Yeonshin from head to toe and sneered.
"You. I see now. You're from the Jung Clan, right? Such futile defiance. I should have killed you back then, but I'm glad you came to me now."
"Didn't you fail to do anything at the time?"
"A martial artist dies by the sword. What justification would the previous Swordmaster have had to interfere? He would have only tarnished his own reputation. If you're relying on something like that again, I pity you."
As the direct disciple of the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader, his entire demeanor exuded arrogance, like that of a noble.
'A disciple of the Sect Leader. I can avenge my clan and earn merit.'
Jung Yeonshin silently drew his sword.
His gaze extended past Wei Mu-hyeok to the Sect Leader of the Tyrant Sword Tribe standing far behind.
His sharp, chiseled face remained as indifferent as ever.
"Now, die."
With those words, Wei Mu-hyeok lunged with his sword. He didn't care where his opponent was looking, such was the nature of a sect that valued brute force.
Clang! Whoosh!
The explosive clash of energy sent a fierce gust of wind across the field. Their swords locked without yielding an inch.
Wei Mu-hyeok's expression shifted, surprised by the equal strength.
"Not bad."
Jung Yeonshin did not respond. Having mastered true swordsmanship, he could now see the flow of the blade's energy.
So too could he see the flow of his opponent's sword.
Suddenly, he recalled the time when Chung Myung tested him upon first entering Radiant Demon Squad.
He slowly opened his mouth.
"A Ming I knew once said this. They judge others' aptitude through the winds of the sword."
"What?"
"So this is what they meant."
The moment Jung Yeonshin smiled, chills ran down Wei Mu-hyeok's arms.
Radiance Sword Style.
The Desolate Sword in Jung Yeonshin's hand captured the sunlight.
At the same time, a faint light burst forth, pushing the locked swords apart.
"What the—?!"
Jung Yeonshin's hand did not stop.
With his body wrapped in wind, he advanced, cutting past his opponent.
From the neck downward, a diagonal slash shimmered white.
Wei Mu-hyeok's head fell.
Thud.
His body collapsed where it stood.
Without sparing a glance at the corpse, Jung Yeonshin sheathed his sword.
"..."
For a moment, silence blanketed the plains.