The martial artists murmured among themselves.
"Desolate… Desolate Fortress…?"
"That can't be. Why would the Desolate Fortress come to a place like this?"
"The eminent monks of Shaolin were with that bastard magistrate! Why wouldn't the Desolate Fortress come?!"
The disorder of the dark factions was on full display.
Back-alley thugs who learned low-level martial arts and became warriors were called the dark faction. They were rogues who failed to become proper martial artists.
At that moment, a burly, bald man grabbed the axe stuck in the table.
He seemed to have learned martial arts fitting for his natural strength. His drunken, bloodshot eyes glared at Jung Yeonshin.
"That brat is a master of the Desolate Fortress? And you call these people my brothers?!"
He grabbed the axe handle and hurled it without warning. The air-shattering sound was immense.
Heon Wonchang stood with his arms crossed, not moving an inch. He even smiled.
Crash!
Jung Yeonshin drew his sword and struck it down in the blink of an eye.
The axe shattered into pieces instantly. The force condensed from his sword created a gust of wind.
Fragments of the axe scattered.
"He used the strength of fist techniques in his sword strike…!"
Heon Wonchang, who had been calmly laughing, exclaimed in admiration.
It seemed he recognized the move as the second form of Infinite Blossom Fist Strike, Formidable Wall's Solar Eclipse. Perhaps it was due to the nature of creating martial techniques.
Jung Yeonshin had already reached the level where he could freely imbue his strikes with strength intended for different purposes.
'The Desolate Fortress, the Nine Great Sects, and the Thirteen Heavens are realms above the clouds.'
In that moment, he realized his martial arts existed in an entirely different world compared to the local martial arts of this region.
Compared to the Blood Fiend Demon Sword of the Tyrant Sword Tribe, these men felt no more than flies.
He didn't even need to layer his inner energy in extreme circulation. The axe throw felt absurdly light.
"Was throwing axes your method of conversation?"
As he lowered his sword and stepped forward, the dark faction men panicked. Jung Yeonshin ignored them and strode closer.
No matter what the others did, he couldn't let the bald man off easily. That throw was clearly an intent to kill.
He had grown so accustomed to using force lightly that it seemed almost natural.
It was nothing like the Praying Mantis Sect, who had to face Jung Yeonshin directly within their own ranks.
Countless innocents had likely suffered under these thugs.
"W-Wait, let's talk!"
The man, having lost the will to resist after witnessing Formidable Wall's Solar Eclipse, raised his hands. At the same time, Jung Yeonshin's sword gleamed.
The long blade radiated a brilliant white light, reflecting the despair on the man's face.
Slash—!
The spray of blood painted the air vividly, as if demanding an answer. The remaining men's faces turned pale.
* * *
Rumors spread that a bloodbath swept through the marketplace after the Jung Family Manor was destroyed.
A war among the dark factions had broken out over local commercial dominance.
Jung Yeonshin listened to the story.
The Jung Family's steward had established a trading company during the chaos, quickly growing it through impressive negotiation and distribution skills.
The primary goods were crops, and their quality, combined with skilled bargaining, allowed the company to expand beyond Xinye County.
However, the manor's lands and wealth were the foundation of the trading company. The dark faction martial artists couldn't resist targeting it.
With massive bribes to the magistrate to turn a blind eye, they raided the trading company, dismantling it piece by piece.
Thus, the Xinye White Martial Sect was born.
"Those bastards!"
Heon Wonchang was furious.
The courtesans who had been with the martial artists quietly returned to their brothel without screaming. They seemed accustomed to blood.
No one knew what the magistrate had been doing.
"I trust you'll handle this well."
"One day should be enough, right?"
"This concerns my family's land. I can assist if you ask."
For a master of Radiant Demon Squad, this task was insignificant.
The senior members patted Jung Yeonshin on the head or shoulders before heading to their rooms.
With his calm nature and steady strength, Jung Yeonshin had already earned the trust of the Radiant Demon Squad after just two journeys.
"Can I punish the magistrate myself?"
"You can, if you turn black."
Ma Jin answered Jung Yeonshin's question and continued.
"You've already annihilated the Praying Mantis Sect on your own. You're clearly stronger than you were then. Dealing with a dark faction sect in Xinye County shouldn't be difficult. Need more hands?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I'll handle it."
"I'll clean up the magistrate's mess once I return. I suspect there's much to uncover."
Jung Yeonshin expressed his gratitude with a bow. As he turned, Heon Wonchang grinned widely.
"I'll go with you. Sending young Jung alone on such a mission? The Divine Hero of the Desolate Fortress would cry."
"This isn't a heroic act."
"How is wiping out a dark faction sect not a heroic deed? Most people wouldn't dare try it."
"Should I add your name to the Fish Scale Land Register of the Jung Family?"
The Fish Scale Land Register was a record of land ownership.
It was a joke about offering Heon Wonchang a piece of land, but he shook his head seriously.
"A true hero accepts no payment."
Heon Wonchang only seemed carefree within the Desolate Fortress. Jung Yeonshin often thought this recently.
Perhaps Heon Wonchang was truly the great hero described in stories.
He even looked the part—a handsome man with a bold, cheerful appearance. The hero's band tied around his forehead suited him perfectly.
'It doesn't feel real, though.'
The two quickly headed toward the Xinye White Martial Sect, which wasn't far.
They arrived without even needing to use the Desolate Fortress's light movement technique.
The grand wooden gate of an old manor stood firmly closed.
"It's too nice to cut down."
Despite his words, Heon Wonchang had already drawn his sword.
He advanced like a northern wind in a single step.
His refined energy formed sharp waves, and the sword's piercing sound rang out as his strike shattered the gate.
Crash—!
Wooden splinters scattered in the gust that surrounded Jung Yeonshin.
Beyond the now-open view, martial artists armed with various weapons stood ready—they had been prepared.
It was said the large sects hesitated to clash with the Desolate Fortress.
Smaller sects, however, were often too uninformed to grasp the true power of their opponents.
Chung Myung's words about calling such ignorant people "fools" crossed his mind.
The Xinye White Martial Sect indeed appeared full of confidence.
"Fools without fear! You came here alone? You'll both rot as fertilizer for our lands!"
The speaker's imposing stature suggested he was the sect leader.
"What are you waiting for? Kill them!"
Jung Yeonshin didn't stop his advance.
With a faint flash of light, his Radiance Sword Style sliced past the sect leader's neck.
* * *
While they destroyed the henchmen's energy cores and gathered documents related to the Jung Family, four people crossed the sect's threshold.
Their gazes swept across the scene, filled with shock and disbelief.
It was clear why—the groaning, fallen dark faction warriors were numerous.
"Hah, we're already too late."
"What… what happened here…?"
Two monks, a middle-aged man, and a county magistrate in official robes had arrived.
It seemed they had already heard rumors.
"Y-You're from the Jung Family, aren't you?"
The plump magistrate recognized Jung Yeonshin.
Even with infrequent meetings, their faces were familiar.
The martial world and local officials weren't entirely separate.
During shortages, martial artists often assisted in maintaining order, while officials provided business and tax benefits in return.
"The Desolate Fortress? You're one of them?"
"Master Jung!"
The middle-aged man stepped forward, beaming.
"You truly became a warrior of the Desolate Fortress! A blue robe—unbelievable!"
It was the Jung Family's steward.
Rumors about Radiant Demon Squad's Rising Star had yet to reach Henan Province.
"I heard the steward was struggling."
"We were too weak."
The steward smiled bitterly. Jung Yeonshin narrowed his eyes, sensing a different aura.
It was clearer and heavier—a change impossible without proper training in orthodox martial arts.
"Did you join an orthodox sect?"
"Yes. I became an external disciple of Shaolin Temple at this age. Truly, I was blessed."
It was truly astonishing. How long would it take to recount the twists and turns that led from losing the trading company to becoming a Shaolin disciple?
The expression on the steward's face, revealing his complex emotions, was enough.
It seemed he had sought the strength of Shaolin to defeat the dark factions in Xinye.
Even during the Jung Family Manor's downfall, his exceptional qualities stood out. It felt like such talent had been wasted at the manor.
The steward introduced the elderly monk standing silently beside him.
"This is my master."
"I am Won Jong."
The monk said.
The old monk, clad in a yellow kasaya, raised his right hand before his chest.
It was a gesture known as Ban Jang, unique to Shaolin greetings.
The wrinkles on his face spoke of the years he had lived as he stared intently at Jung Yeonshin.
"So, you are Venerable Won Jong. I am Jung Yeonshin of the Desolate Fortress."
Jung said, clasping his hands in a martial salute.
At that moment—
"Your skills are truly remarkable! I am Gak Jeong!"
A young martial monk, who had been leisurely inspecting the surroundings, approached.
He was extraordinarily handsome, with a well-shaped head and long, benevolent ears that left a strong impression—a prominent Shaolin martial monk.
Judging by his appearance, it was hard to gauge his standing without a proper conversation, but it was clear he wasn't of elder rank.
Little Divine Monk Gak Jeong—his name was already well-known.
He was one of the Eighteen Arhats of Shaolin and a master of Shaolin fist techniques. Not an ordinary late-stage prodigy.
"Master, may I speak with this gentleman?"
"Do as you wish. But before that—"
Venerable Won Jong fixed his gaze on Jung Yeonshin with languid yet piercing eyes.
"You there. Do you have any connection with our temple?"
"This is my first time meeting masters of Shaolin."
"Yet your body is very peculiar. It is refined as if you've practiced the Yijin Sutra."
The Yijin Sutra—a martial art so famous that few martial artists were unaware of it. Its origins were widely known.
It was said to have been devised by Bodhidharma to strengthen the bodies and core energy of monks.
Among Shaolin's Seventy-Two Ultimate Arts, it began with the Yijin Sutra and returned to it in the end.
Even the steward and Gak Jeong widened their eyes.
"Now that you mention it…"
Gak Jeong's voice trailed off as he examined Jung Yeonshin's physique. The steward, still amazed, remained silent.
Although the steward knew that Jung Yeonshin had honed his body for nearly ten years through his family's Jung Clan Movement Arts, he didn't speak carelessly.
"Master Jung, I do not believe you could have stolen and learned our temple's sacred arts. Such a thing is impossible."
Gak Jeong finally spoke.
"But an idea has occurred to me. I can see that your methods may be highly practical in the secular world. However, to someone like myself, who has dedicated his life to martial arts and Buddhist practice, your techniques seem a bit excessive. Since it's clear you'll become one of the greatest masters in the world someday, this humble monk cannot help but feel concerned."
"What exactly are you suggesting?"
"In martial arts, we speak through combat. Among Shaolin's Seventy-Two Ultimate Arts, I have trained in Iron Sand Palm and the Yijin Sutra. While the Yijin Sutra also involves core energy cultivation, it seems you've similarly refined your body through external techniques. Why don't we test our physical refinement? Whoever wins must honor the other's request. If you agree, I'll give you this."
Gak Jeong pulled out a wooden box from his kasaya and opened it.
A sharp herbal fragrance filled the air as a small round pill was revealed.
"This is the Bright Pure Pill. I passed down my clan's secret techniques to Shaolin's Medicine King Hall, and they created this medicine."
"Bright Pure Pill?!"
Heon Wonchang, who had just returned from gathering valuables to distribute to the villagers, shouted in surprise.
While the Great Revitalization Pills and Minor Revitalization Pills were widely renowned, Shaolin's Bright Pure Pill had recently gained fame.
It was said to quickly heal disrupted energy channels, thanks to the combination of Shaolin's medical skills and the secret techniques of Gak Jeong's clan.
'This is quite a rare medicine.'
Even if one suffered internal injuries, they could immediately fight again after taking it. Perhaps this reflected Shaolin's fairness.
Their willingness to offer medicine first, even while attempting to correct someone, left a strong impression.
Such generosity was uncommon in other martial sects.
Jung Yeonshin stared into Gak Jeong's clear eyes and then nodded.
When he accepted the wooden box, Gak Jeong grinned widely.
"Venerable Gak Jeong is giving me a gift. I'll do my best."
"Haha! Thank you for humoring my meddling. But who knows? You may end up using that pill right away."
It was an amusing provocation—implying that Jung might suffer internal injuries while exchanging strikes with Gak Jeong.
Given Shaolin's formidable martial arts and Gak Jeong's reputation, it was entirely plausible.
"What is your request, Master?"
"If I win, you must listen to one hour of my Buddhist sermon."
"…?"
"What? Did you think I'd ask you to shave your head and become a Shaolin disciple?"
Gak Jeong, who was stretching his limbs, struck Jung Yeonshin as an enigmatic figure.
He seemed to embody both the competitive spirit of a martial artist and the detachment of a Buddhist disciple—a strange yet appealing personality.
"Let's begin."
"Agreed."
As Jung Yeonshin assumed his stance, he intuitively knew—
If core energy were involved, he would be no match for Gak Jeong.
But in terms of physical refinement, it was different. He had mastered the Jung Clan Movement Arts after years of singular focus.
He thought it might be a fair match.
Crash!
The bout began with a flurry of dazzling punches and kicks. Fists and legs carved intricate trajectories, striking at every angle.
Only Jung Yeonshin's eyes moved deliberately as he absorbed every essence of Shaolin's techniques.
Splat! Thud!
A punch to the shoulder was no light blow. Without using core energy, Gak Jeong's martial arts still radiated immense power.
Jung Yeonshin refrained from launching a meaningful counterattack even after twenty exchanges.
Then, suddenly, Gak Jeong's robes fluttered sharply as he lunged forward with precise steps.
It appeared to be Dragon Fist, one of Shaolin's Five Animal Fists.
Boom!
The rising punch exploded against Jung's solar plexus. It was as if he was embodying a dragon's ascent.
Despite lacking core energy, the strike kicked up a cloud of dust. It seemed strong enough to kill.
"Hmm?"
Instead, it was Gak Jeong who staggered back two steps. His feet left deep imprints in the dirt.
Jung Yeonshin remained standing calmly, unmoved from where he had started.
"… …"
"Have you finished, Master?"
He asked quietly.