The heir of the Ma Clan's expression changed the moment he saw Jung Yeonshin. His complex emotions were evident.
It wasn't just anger and shame. His words, spoken as he approached, made that clear.
"Would you spar with me?"
"Your name?"
"...I am Ma Se-in. We didn't even exchange names back then."
"It seems your mindset has changed."
Jung Yeonshin gazed at his maternal grandfather's grandson.
Rumor had it that he had defeated the white-clad warriors of Martial Arena one after another.
He had every reason to be proud, yet he maintained courtesy despite his haggard appearance.
Was this the strength of noble families, born from such self-reflection?
What he thought of Jung Yeonshin's skills and qualities was unclear.
Ma Se-in cupped his hands respectfully.
"I learned a lot from our last encounter. I gained much. Give me another chance."
"We'll see."
Jung Yeonshin, returning the bow, pondered.
He had to complete his next mission without fail. To obtain the blue martial robe without wasting time, he needed to act decisively.
Whether the boy before him would offer new inspiration was a secondary concern.
'I can't build the framework of the Radiance Sword Style with uninspired ideas.'
This was different from when he created the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike. The Radiance Sword Style was a technique inspired by the path of a legendary swordmaster, a former supreme expert.
There was a martial arts archive accessible to the warriors of Desolate Fortress.
It was impossible for Jung Yeonshin not to have visited it. He wasn't relying solely on martial arts he had created.
Even in his newly devised techniques, the martial arts of Desolate Fortress were embedded in every movement.
He had stripped down the principles and logic of martial arts to build a foundation for creating something new.
The body movements inspired by Chung Myung were also taking shape as a supreme body technique.
However, martial arts that perfectly matched his body, like the Radiance Sword Style, Splendid Wings Step, and Infinite Blossom Fist Strike, couldn't be created on demand.
The fact that martial arts recorded in books felt lifeless was another issue.
It was simply that no inspiration had struck to weave a system of martial arts that satisfied him.
He needed lightning to strike his mind. Yet divine inspiration didn't come at just any time.
"I suppose it could broaden my horizons."
Ma Se-in's proposal for a spar wasn't bad.
The Desolate Fortress's swordsmanship was likely of a level rarely seen even within Desolate Fortress.
Just then, a light breeze stirred. Jung Yeonshin felt his robes flutter slightly.
"You're the new recruit? Spar with me."
Chung Myung had approached unnoticed, tapping Jung Yeonshin's shoulder and staring at Ma Se-in.
His black eye patch over his left eye had an air of antiquated elegance.
Ma Se-in's face lit up.
"The Azure-Eye Demonic Swordsman…!"
"It's One-Eyed now."
Chung Myung chuckled playfully and turned to Jung Yeonshin.
"Mind if I take this one?"
"Do you come to Martial Arena often?"
"If I don't, I'll fall behind. There are too many monstrous experts in this sect."
"It's because of your eye, isn't it?"
"Yeah. I need to gradually regain my senses. A swordsman's vision is half gone, after all."
Chung Myung spoke cheerfully, appearing to be in good spirits.
For someone of such skill, he would make an excellent sparring partner. Jung Yeonshin nodded.
As the two walked side by side toward the training ground, Do Yu-won muttered.
"Strange. So the rumors are true. The Azure-Eye Demonic Swordsman only associates with those he deems worthy."
"Senior Chung Myung?"
When asked in confusion, Do Yu-won nodded.
"He is truly a cold person. Even the records show that. He's ruthless to martial artists, not to commoners. Both aptitude and character are judged harshly. He openly disrespects people, and many hypocritical orthodox warriors have lost their heads because of him. That's why he's called the Demonic Sword. His standards are severe."
"I don't see that at all."
"That's probably because your aptitude is exceptional. Most blues avoid him, and whites don't even dare. The heir of the Desolate Fortress is in trouble."
Do Yu-won clicked his tongue.
'But he didn't treat Heon Wonchang badly either.'
While pondering Do Yu-won's words, the match concluded.
Ma Se-in had tried to exploit the blind spot in Chung Myung's left field of vision, but the blue-level martial artist's prowess was truly extraordinary.
Chung Myung seemed to have replaced his blind spot with heightened senses.
Without even looking, his left palm struck Ma Se-in's solar plexus. It was a remarkable palm technique.
Ma Se-in coughed up blood and collapsed.
And then, something unexpected happened.
As if he had realized something from Chung Myung's strike, Ma Se-in suddenly sat cross-legged and smiled.
It was clear to anyone that he had gained insight.
No sooner had he fallen than warriors in orange robes appeared and surrounded the area. They seemed to be Desolate Fortress guards.
Chung Myung, stepping back slightly, chuckled and returned. Glancing at Jung Yeonshin, he remarked.
"That kid's not entirely hopeless."
"So this is Desolate Fortress. Everyone looks familiar with it."
"You might outshine them all in Radiant Demon Squad, but there are many who were once called prodigies."
Do Yu-won, seemingly uneasy about facing Chung Myung, bowed slightly.
Jung Yeonshin, responding in kind, once again felt the power of Desolate Fortress.
Despite losing an eye, Chung Myung's martial prowess hadn't diminished much, and Ma Se-in, who initially seemed arrogant, had quickly transformed.
Humility made realization easier to attain.
It was astonishing. Almost unbelievable.
'This is no time to be picky about inspiration.'
Jung Yeonshin stepped toward the training ground of Martial Arena without hesitation.
* * *
"The Lord wishes to commemorate your coming of age."
It was at sunset, as he returned to the Radiant Demon Squad quarters, that Ma Jin suddenly brought up an unexpected topic.
"Does he intend for Desolate Fortress to host my coming-of-age ceremony?"
"Yes."
Ma Jin nodded, and Jung Yeonshin frowned.
'The General Office did ask about the rites.'
The Zhu Xi Ceremony, the first rite of passage in Confucian traditions, was typically held at twenty years old for scholars of the Great Ming Empire. But things were different in the martial world.
The harsher the region's martial arts environment, the earlier the ceremony was held. The age standard varied widely.
It reflected the urgency for young martial artists to leave their mark before meeting an untimely end.
But Jung Yeonshin didn't care. For him, life itself was a legacy.
"When is the next mission?"
Ma Jin sighed.
"The Lord set it after the ceremony. He acknowledges your talent and potential."
"Not sure what to think."
Jung Yeonshin couldn't fathom the fortress lord's intentions.
Recognition of his talent? Then granting him a divine fruit from the World Tree would suffice.
This formality suggested either a hope for him to rise through ranks or that the fortress didn't need him urgently.
For now, he couldn't be sure.
Jung Yeonshin had no intention of holding onto fleeting hopes.
The fortress lord was an ancient ruler with clear boundaries, evident from how she treated her long-time friend Ma Yeonjeok like a blade.
"I'd rather not. In one hour, I could contemplate dozens of changes in sword techniques. Decline it."
"The Lord offers a reward—a wine called Lei Xian Treasure Brew. A single sip ensures lifelong health."
Jung Yeonshin's demeanor shifted instantly.
"I'll do it."
"...Only one participant can drink it. This ceremony exalts strength. Most participants have yet to earn white robes, but this time's different. A couple of whites, older than you by two or three years, are joining because of you."
"It's not a problem."
Ma Jin's bewildered expression was of no concern. After all, one could never be sure—perhaps this might slow down the opening of his Baihui acupoint even slightly.
* * *
"The Lord has disrupted the order."
The hall was vast and luxurious, with seats lined up on both sides.
At the farthest end above, Ma Yeonjeok murmured.
His ornate, purple robe completely covered the armrest. Below him, Ma Jin's scarred face twisted.
"Was this meant to be hosted by the main family?"
"There's no room for such considerations."
Ma Yeonjeok replied calmly.
Until now, the ceremonies for boys and young men had followed entirely different procedures from those of noble scholars.
Even if there were complicated rituals such as divination, hair-knotting, and the donning of the cap, the content differed.
Was it the boldness unique to martial artists? There was no solemn atmosphere here.
Even their attire was simply the uniforms of Desolate Fortress. Among them, Jung Yeonshin, wearing a blue robe over white garments, stood out the most.
After lengthy formalities, one by one, they ascended the platform.
The Lord of Desolate Fortress, dressed in green armor, personally placed the caps upon their heads.
Of the twenty-five participants, only three were white-robed warriors.
Most of them had grown up in Desolate Fortress. Jung Yeonshin and Ma Se-in, who had entered from the Desolate Fortress Exam, were exceptions.
"Congratulations."
The Lord's red lips moved gently. Her smooth smile deepened as she brushed Jung Yeonshin's cap once.
"Lightning Genius does not take a courtesy name."
Her clear, resonant voice prompted murmurs of agreement from the spectators.
It meant he would not adopt a new name upon coming of age.
Some martial artists who quickly earned titles took those names as their courtesy names.
For Jung Yeonshin, 'Lightning Genius' had become the name he would carry for life.
When the ceremony concluded, the crowd began to chatter lightly. Many seemed to have come simply to relieve their boredom.
"Now, only the finale remains."
"The finishing touch is left."
"I wonder who will drink it this year."
"Based on accomplishments alone, Lightning Genius surpasses nearly every white robe. Hasn't he advanced without rest? Even Namgoong Hwashin, the White Qilin, has only just completed his first mission."
"That may be true, but the talents of heirs from martial families are extraordinary. The heirs of Ma Clan and the Shin Clan must also be exceptional."
Excitement gradually built up. Jung Yeonshin returned to his seat and fixed his gaze on the platform.
By then, the Lord of Desolate Fortress was already pouring the wine into a white cup.
'Lei Xian Treasure Brew.'
Life returned to his eyes.
Even as he met the Lord's deep green gaze, his spirit did not waver. She smiled faintly and spoke.
"This is my celebratory drink for you. It shall be awarded to the one who takes it first."
The Lord's robe began to flutter. It felt as though green waves rippled outward from her body.
"Take it if you can."
Whoosh—!
An overwhelming pressure surged outward. It felt as though he was being dragged into a deep abyss.
Even taking a single step forward felt daunting. It was almost laughable.
And yet, this wasn't even a fraction of the true power of the Lord of Desolate Fortress.
'Surely last year wasn't this intense?'
Those who had not yet become formal warriors of Desolate Fortress were pushed back and collapsed.
It was remarkable that no one suffered internal injuries. It seemed the seated guests were unaffected as well.
Such precise control over energy was almost divine.
"Urgh!"
A groan escaped someone's lips.
At that moment, only three remained standing—Jung Yeonshin, Ma Se-in, and a nobleman from the Shin Clan.
Yet, only one took a step forward.
Jung Yeonshin felt the mystical winds radiating from the Lord's entire being.
The streams of energy that brushed past his body sparked new inspiration in his mind.
As if his very soul was being drawn into the Lord's gaze, insights that could shatter barriers in his core energy emerged naturally.
This was resonance. A faint azure glow flickered in Jung Yeonshin's eyes.
His first step wasn't the Splendid Wings Step. He merely adapted to the flow of energy as naturally as possible.
Its purpose was different. The Splendid Wings Step was designed to control spacing.
Now, a second step revealed itself.
Step.
Waves of energy rippled outward from his foot.
The colorless waves gently pushed back the Lord's green winds.
It was the Splendid Wings Step, a step that pierced through momentum.
His cap flew off, and his long hair unraveled dramatically. No one in the hall dared to speak.
With strands of black hair cascading down, he finally ascended the platform.
"You may savor it."
The Lord stepped down, her lips curling slightly.
It was then—
"A ruler of none but oneself! Every martial artist dreams to be like you!"
Ma Se-in, kneeling on one knee and bleeding from his lips, shouted. His eyes were red.
Whether from enduring the pressure or being overwhelmed with emotion, it was unclear.
Perhaps his smooth path thus far had affected his state of mind.
"But the world of martial arts is not as you think! Why do clans, families, and alliances exist?"
"..."
"I've decided to follow my grandfather's will. Challenge me for the seat of the Desolate Fortress heir. With the support of the main family, your position will rise again."
"What are you saying?"
Jung Yeonshin was dumbfounded. This was a public setting. Even if he spoke the truth, this wasn't the place for it.
And it wasn't just any matter—it concerned family affairs. His lack of discretion was absurd.
Yet, Ma Yeonjeok didn't stop his grandson.
He simply fixed his gaze on Jung Yeonshin's mouth.
Ma Se-in continued.
"Set a date and compete with me. Defeat me honorably, and you can become the heir. It's worth far more than this wine. Take my place. What's the value of a single man with an elixir? The position of leading a clan, wielding a hundred swords, is worth far more than any medicine."
It seemed his emotions were stirred by another loss. Jung Yeonshin couldn't tell whether these words were Ma Se-in's own or Ma Yeonjeok's will.
Perhaps both.
"Grandfather wants you to replace me. Don't refuse. I know you dislike the idea, but you shouldn't. Being the head of a martial family outweighs anything else. That's human society, and it's the truth of the martial world."
After a long sigh, Ma Se-in finished speaking.
Jung Yeonshin looked at his relative as if he had lost his mind.
To say such things here? Did he think he would be forced to accept due to the public setting?
Whoever planned this clearly had no shame.
Jung Yeonshin didn't nod. Their goals were too different.
'Maybe I would have if a single clan's power could claim the fruit of the World Tree.'
But that wasn't possible. And being bound by a family would stifle his inspiration.
He knew himself.
Even Ma Yeonjeok hid the truth about his life expectancy from others.
Jung Yeonshin didn't want to beg anyone for his life without reason.
He spoke quietly.
"You spoke of the truth of the martial world. I know it well—I'll tell you."
Jung Yeonshin stood alone on the platform, his blue robe flowing.
With the air of a lone swordsman who had weathered harsh trials, he reached for the cup.
"This..."
He lifted the cup he had seized for himself.
"...is the martial world."
His words rang clearly, and silence filled the hall.
Amidst the hush, only the sound of the Lei Xian Treasure Brew sliding down his throat echoed.