It was said that the intuition of masters sometimes surpassed the realm of understanding. This time was different.
Many wore expressions of disbelief despite witnessing it with their own eyes. Even the masters of the Zhongnan Sect were no exception.
The sight of the young swordsman holding the head of the Elder of the Tyrant Sword Tribe—no one could have imagined such a thing.
"The Blood Fiend Demon Sword... Is it really that old master?"
"How, how could such a thing happen? At the hands of such a young boy?"
"The Demon Sword has passed away? Even that is hard to believe..."
The scene, defying common sense, robbed the martial artists of their will to fight.
Even the Tyrant Sword Tribe was not exempt. A phenomenon beyond comprehension.
What Jung Yeonshin had created was just that—something incomprehensible to the human mind.
At that moment,
Heon Wonchang suddenly stood up. The dust on his robes was shaken off as his energy surged, as though he had never been knocked down.
With a hero's ribbon tied around his forehead, his tall frame and handsome features radiated confidence as he boldly declared,
"A guest of Zhongnan Sect! Jung Yeonshin of Desolate Fortress!"
Even his voice carried energy.
It was stronger than Jung Yeonshin had expected, and the power embedded in Heon Wonchang's voice echoed in all directions, resonating with astonishing intensity.
"He has severed the head of the Elder of the Tyrant Sword Tribe—!"
An earth-shaking roar erupted. It was surprising how such internal strength had been concealed.
This was a moment of great achievement.
Heon Wonchang made sure to clearly announce their identities, securing recognition for their accomplishments.
It was a display of quick thinking befitting a Desolate Fortress warrior.
"Master Jung truly...!"
"The Blood Fiend Demon Sword has fallen!"
"Waaaaah!"
The young masters of Zhongnan Sect were stirred, their faces filled with admiration and excitement.
Some even erupted in cheers never heard before.
"That boy!"
"He actually did it!"
The swordsmanship of Yeo Il-shin and the Zhongnan Sword Immortal began to demonstrate their full effectiveness.
They relentlessly pushed forward against the bewildered enemies, unleashing their momentum.
The tide had turned violently, like a waterfall, driven by the young warrior from Desolate Fortress.
The Tyrant Sword Tribe was helplessly pushed back, suffering fatal blows from all directions.
In the midst of it all, Jung Yeonshin locked eyes with the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader.
Even as he parried the sword of Zhongnan Sect's Lord, he cast a profound gaze at the boy, as if engraving his image into memory.
'Wait.'
A towering force, difficult to even look up to. At that moment, just meeting his gaze felt like it shook one's soul.
Time was certainly Jung Yeonshin's enemy. But it was also a boundless ally that promised strength.
'Four years should be enough for you, too.'
The leader of the Tyrant Sword Tribe would not die here today. Jung Yeonshin turned away.
The Tyrant Sword Tribe was ultimately defeated. It was a great victory for the Zhongnan Sect.
Battles between the Thirteen Heavenly Sects and the Nine Great Sects were exceedingly rare.
The mere fact that they clashed and a decisive outcome was reached was extraordinary. It was said the central plains were already stirring.
At the forefront of the rumors was the Zhongnan Sword Immortal, who demonstrated a godlike presence.
It was due to his severing of an elder's arm and killing five others among the elders.
The reputation of the Cloud Sword Dragon, Wei-Ji Myohwa, also soared as she commanded disciples and confronted mid-level masters.
And whispers spread about the young master from Desolate Fortress.
A sixteen-year-old swordsman had slain an elder of the Tyrant Sword Tribe—an unbelievable tale to most.
Those who knew even a little about the martial world scoffed at the story, causing the rumor to spread slowly.
However, one thing was certain—the nickname "Lightning Genius" had begun to make its way through the world.
"The Nine Sect masters knowing is enough. Who cares what ignorant fools say?"
Thud!
Heon Wonchang slammed his fist on the table.
He had just returned from a tavern at the foot of the mountain, fuming with indignation.
He said he had overheard people in the market denying the existence of the young master from Desolate Fortress.
He claimed he almost broke their noses.
Jung Yeonshin paid it little mind. He had no interest in things that weren't practical.
He only had eyes for the fruit of the World Tree at the end of his journey.
"Does fame help with missions?"
"Of course it does! It's helpful! It might even get you a free drink at a tavern!"
Heon Wonchang finally brought a smile to Jung Yeonshin's lips.
They savored their victory. Even familiar forest paths now felt refreshed with the scent of new earth.
The war between great sects had concluded for the time being, and they had even slain masters of the Tyrant Sword Tribe.
As warriors of Desolate Fortress, their mission had been accomplished—and more.
The masters of Zhongnan Sect treated both Jung Yeonshin and Heon Wonchang with warm regard.
There were few days that could feel more satisfying than these.
"Rather, you should think about sects like Beggars' Sect or Hao Clan. If you plan to travel the martial world, you can't overlook the information they provide. I don't know if you've ever received help from the Beggars' Sect, but their treatment of you will be different now."
Wei-Ji Myohwa spoke while sipping tea with them.
Her small smile was more beautiful than the spring flowers blooming around them.
"The Nine Great Sects are said to exist above the clouds, even within the martial world. Naturally, commoners find it incredibly difficult to learn about their affairs—unless it's a major incident like this one."
"I see."
Jung Yeonshin replied, sipping the golden tea.
Wei-Ji Myohwa's face softened with a gentle smile.
"So, people often avoid accurate information and believe strange rumors instead. But the Beggars' Sect is different. That's why they're sometimes grouped with the Nine Sects. They have precise knowledge. I even saw a few beggars practicing lightness skills outside the battlefield."
Beggars practicing martial arts? It must have been the rumored ways of the Beggars' Sect.
Heon Wonchang nodded in satisfaction.
"There will be more journeys in the martial world, so that's enough for now."
"Master Jung's matter, but Master Heon is satisfied? Desolate Fortress's camaraderie is different from what I've heard. So, which of you is the senior disciple?"
"Senior?"
Heon Wonchang widened his eyes as if hearing the word for the first time.
Jung Yeonshin's interest was piqued.
"I learned the Martial Radiance Technique first."
"Ha! We were taught simultaneously by the master! Just because your achievements came first doesn't mean you're the senior. Desolate Fortress isn't some unorthodox sect!"
"Isn't a bond of mentorship enough?"
"Seriously?"
Time flowed with pleasant conversation.
With the Zhongnan Sect suffering minimal casualties, the mood was heartwarming.
Wei-Ji Myohwa's occasional affectionate gaze, like that of an older sibling, accompanied the setting sun.
The next day.
Jung Yeonshin was bestowed the Floating Cloud Plaque.
It was said to grant the highest courtesy when presented to Zhongnan Sect's affiliated clans.
Even at Jung Manor, a branch of Zhongnan, he could act as a benefactor without giving anything in return.
"In addition, if the main sect's sword is ever needed, do not hesitate to send word. Even if it's a political matter involving Desolate Fortress, we'll help once."
Said Gu Yang-cheon, the Nine Yang Duke. A faint warmth lingered on his otherwise expressionless face.
It was said Zhongnan had absorbed a significant portion of the Tyrant Sword Tribe's territory, according to the Zhongnan Sword Immortal.
With the demonic sects retreating and orthodox sects protecting the people, donations would pour in without coercion.
Thus, as the sect's leader, Gu Yang-cheon acknowledged Jung Yeonshin's contributions as invaluable.
"I humbly accept."
There was no reason to refuse. A day might come when it would be needed to carry out a mission or challenge the position of the Divine Sword Squad Leader.
Jung Yeonshin, who had placed the cloud-engraved wooden token in his bosom, opened his mouth.
"Well then, I believe it's time to hear it."
"Hmm. You are qualified."
Yeo Il-shin, sitting next to Gu Yang-cheon, nodded.
At last, the secret behind the extermination of the Jung Family Manor began to flow out.
"It all started with the World Tree."
"The World Tree, you say?"
"Yes, the divine tree that supports the world. All principles of creation and existence are firmly established through the mystical World Tree. It inevitably draws heavily upon the earth's energy, and the land of the Jung Family Manor was exceedingly fertile. Wasn't it said that they were the great landlords of Xinye County? The roots of the divine tree stretched close enough to reach their grounds."
"······."
"All universally acknowledged elixirs are the same. They are created through mysterious methods aligned with the principles of creation. It's a matter separate from martial arts or sorcery."
"Then the reason for the Jung Family Manor's extermination was······?"
"It is said that the formidable martial arts of the Lord of Desolate Fortress are sustained by consuming the fruits of the World Tree. The Tyrant Sword Tribe and the Blood Flame Cult completely hostile to Desolate Fortress—had more than enough reason to wipe out a small martial clan. I've heard that Xinye County has become a wasteland at their hands."
Jung Yeonshin momentarily lost his words. Yeo Il-shin sighed with a face full of regret and gently continued.
"We happened to be nearby when we received a letter from the Lord of Desolate Fortress, asking us to protect the Jung Family Manor. We ultimately failed, however······."
"······."
"I can only feel deep guilt toward you, Jungsan, and Hye-ah."
* * *
Shouldn't the living go on with life?
For now, they decided to eat the fruit of the World Tree. Complex circumstances and paradoxes were set aside.
They offered no help in terms of survival.
It would not be too late to question the Lord of Desolate Fortress after becoming the Divine Sword Squad Leader. After all, she was said to live an eternal life.
The sky was clear. A boundless expanse of blue covered the world without a single cloud.
Jung Yeonshin and Heon Wonchang packed their belongings and stood at the entrance of Mount Zhongnan.
Many people had gathered to see them off. The reputation they had built in the Zhongnan Sect was not small.
"Grow up and come find me. Once you become a master, you'll be able to visit Desolate Fortress."
He consoled his crying nephew.
When he looked at his second eldest brother, Jung Jungsan, he saw an indescribable expression.
A face filled with both regret and pride. Jung Yeonshin responded with only a slight nod.
They were still not close enough to face each other without reservation.
Wei-Ji Myohwa, standing in front, parted her red lips.
"Would it be alright if I went next time?"
"If there is no mission, I will ask for the martial teachings of the Cloud Sword Dragon."
Her lips curved into a smooth arc. The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan let out a hearty laugh.
"The younger generation of Jianghu is forming bonds. It's a pleasing sight. To an old man who should start thinking of retirement, this is truly gratifying."
In Jianghu, retiring after settling grudges and debts is called "washing one's hands with golden water." Jung Yeonshin shook his head.
"You look like you could live another hundred years."
Laughter erupted here and there. They had now become like a family.
The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan smiled kindly.
"Yeonshin, I hope you fulfill your aspirations."
It was a statement laden with many meanings. Jung Yeonshin calmly cupped his hands and then mounted the fine steed gifted by the Zhongnan Sect.
As always, Heon Wonchang rode alongside him.
He did not look back when leaving. After half a day's ride, they arrived at a village.
The setting sun cast a glow, as if reluctant to fade, draping the scene in hues of crimson silk.
They left their horses and entered an inn. It was a lively place.
"There are quite a few wanderers here."
Heon Wonchang, seated near the entrance, muttered.
It was so crowded that they had to share a table with some middle-aged men. They exchanged polite nods.
The expression of the innkeeper, who took their orders, was not pleasant.
It seemed the people wielding swords and causing a ruckus were to blame.
Among them, some wore silk martial outfits, likely scions of martial families.
It was unusual for so many martial artists to gather in such a small village.
There seemed to be some kind of incident, but the boastful wanderers, eager to show off their skills and discuss rumors, naturally provided explanations.
"······So you're saying the Mount Hua Sect secretly received help from Desolate Fortress? The Nine Sects and Desolate Fortress are fading like a setting sun. Only the Zhongnan Sect, who defeated the Tyrant Sword Tribe, still holds sway in Shaanxi!"
"You must be new to Jianghu. Let me tell you, one must keep their mouth shut in this world to live long."
It was a young nobleman who seemed to be a martial family scion. Despite his refined appearance, he remained remarkably composed.
Two women, who seemed to be his companions, nodded faintly with smiles.
The loud wanderer at the adjacent table frowned.
"I told you, I'm not new! Tell me where I'm wrong! Otherwise, how could they fail to capture a single Tugwi? I heard Radiant Demon Squad, famous for his Azure Eye Demonic Sword, lost one of his eyes! Desolate Fortress's so-called Blue Masters? Turns out they're all just empty titles!"
Just as he scanned the room for agreement, it happened.
Thump!
It was incredibly fast. A chopstick, thrown without a sound, pierced the table entirely.
The force imbued in it was so strong that the end trembled, causing cracks to spread from the point of impact.
All eyes turned toward the entrance. A boy in a long blue robe stood there, calmly looking at the wanderer.
"That story."
A flash of sky-blue light crossed Jung Yeonshin's eyes.
"Tell me in more detail."
His voice was quiet, but it carried the inner energy of the Jung Clan's Martial Arts. No one in the room failed to hear it.
The once noisy inn filled with swordsmen fell silent in an instant.
Heon Wonchang subtly reached out and straightened Jung Yeonshin's robe, revealing the embroidered character 'Desolate' in white thread on the blue robe.