The stream that escaped the lake shimmered, embracing the sun.
The boats of the Profound Martial Alliance's rising talents kept moving forward. Only their master had changed.
During this time, Jung Yeonshin listened to the story of Monk Won Jong.
It was a tale that flowed like gusts of wind along the waves.
"I was about your age. Back then, I was immature, with a body like a piglet. Unlike you, who already stood tall as a martial artist."
A gentle spring breeze blew. The old monk's voice seemed to seep into the trees lined along the riverbank.
"My family held great influence. My father served in the Forbidden City. That was until he was framed and exiled. It was only thanks to the emperor's grace toward a loyal subject that he barely escaped with his life. That, too, was nothing short of a miracle."
T/Note- Forbidden City refers to the Imperial Palace in Beijing, China.
"Then, in exile?"
"Our household fell into ruin. Naturally, it became a target for the Blood Flame Cult, which lusted after true energy. When I returned from playing war games with peers, no one was alive. Rumor had it that the Blood Flame Cult's leader had personally come. I... I wailed before my father's shriveled corpse."
His voice was filled with sorrow, a hatred that time had failed to erode.
"I was fortunate to catch the eye of my master, who was begging for alms, and so I ascended Mount Song. Even after becoming a monk, my anguish did not subside. I was aware of my lack of talent. So, I decided to think differently."
"Creating martial arts to defeat natural enemies…"
At Jung Yeonshin's murmur, Monk Won Jong nodded.
"Let us restore martial arts imbued with the Buddha's divine power, solely to annihilate the Blood Flame Cult. Then, let's teach it to my fellow monks. The talented monks of Shaolin would certainly embrace it. But even this plan brought torment. Creating it was one issue, but pushing my brothers into peril against the Blood Flame Cult leader seemed cruel."
Jung Yeonshin agreed.
The Blood Flame Cult leader was rumored to possess monstrous strength.
Though the masters of the Thirteen Heavens were said to rival the heads of the Nine Great Sects, the vast martial world held a few exceptional individuals.
The Blood Flame Cult leader, the abbot of Shaolin, and the Sword Master of the Desolate Fortress were among them.
The Tyrant Sword Tribe leader was also ranked as one of the world's strongest.
'Even if such martial arts were created, it would still be problematic.'
It wasn't as if the Shaolin monk could personally learn it and challenge the Blood Flame Cult leader.
The weight of leading the righteous sects at the pinnacle of the martial world was immense.
If defeated, the repercussions would be irreversible.
"That's how life is."
Jung Yeonshin spoke seriously, though only sixteen.
"No matter how hard you run, the end is never quite within reach. You can only step forward, one layer at a time."
Monk Won Jong, who had been staring at him, turned his head again.
"For someone who's lived less than a quarter of my years, your insight surpasses mine."
"My family also fell to the Blood Flame Cult. The Tyrant Sword Tribe and its leader joined forces."
"…You have shown me. The martial arts I was merely grasping at a starting point for—you revealed them. I won't ask how. Secrets of martial artists are not to be pried into. I have only one question now."
This time, Jung Yeonshin turned to look at the monk's profile.
The nameless river flowing seemed endless.
The old monk, gazing toward the distant horizon, embodied a life devoted to a single, unresolved torment.
A monk and martial artist who could never let go.
Monk Won Jong spoke.
"Tell me what I can do to help. The martial art that eradicates evil must see the light of day. With your talent, you will surely reach the realm of supreme masters in time."
"Thank you for your kind words."
Jung Yeonshin's face brightened.
He had recently felt inadequate. The Buddhist teachings briefly learned from Monk Gak Jeong were insufficient to refine the formulas.
Martial arts formulas typically organized the nature of thoughts to be imprinted in inner energy.
Even the three-element sword technique manuals in the marketplace included phrases like, 'Imagine splitting the heavens and earth when striking horizontally.'
In core energy cultivation, martial artists often described enlightenment as discovering more appropriate thoughts to guide their energy.
While Jung Yeonshin could deduce energy techniques from observing most tricks, delving into deeper thoughts could amplify power dramatically.
He eagerly sat closer to Monk Won Jong.
"You mentioned the tenth section of the Diamond Sutra. Doesn't it include the verse from the Ornamented Pure Land chapter?"
"…?"
"The phrase: 'Develop a mind that does not abide anywhere'."
"What?"
"I'm requesting a sermon."
* * *
A splendid festival boat drifted along the river and through time.
The Profound Martial Alliance's disciples were no longer rowing.
Jung Yeonshin had gathered them to one side, this time without sealing their energy centers.
The commoners aboard complicated matters. Killing Sword Blossom had been enough.
There was already a risk that the boatmen and women could be implicated.
'Cleanse the six senses and let the mind abide nowhere.'
Jung Yeonshin stood silently.
Other than when listening to Monk Won Jong's sermon, he meditated with his eyes closed.
His mere silence filled the captives with dread. Jung Yeonshin had beheaded the renowned Sword Blossom in one strike.
To the young disciples of Profound Martial Alliance, it appeared as the arrogance and confidence of someone destined to lead the Desolate Fortress's future.
He overheard whispers calling him a genius mistakenly bestowed upon the world. Jung Yeonshin inwardly gave a bitter smile. It didn't seem wrong.
"We'll disembark here."
He spoke to the boatmen.
Jung Yeonshin glanced at Monk Won Jong, who had already stepped ashore, then turned to look back.
Were they preparing to send him off?
The hesitant Profound Martial Alliance's disciples displayed behavior Jung Yeonshin hadn't seen before.
The noble teachings he knew did not produce such cowards.
'These aren't rising talents. That term means the best of their juniors, and it doesn't suit them.'
Profound Martial Alliance was one of the Thirteen Heavens. There must be true rising talents somewhere.
Disregarding them, Jung Yeonshin spoke.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Um?"
"Do you think riffraff deserve to remain with the people here? Ridiculous. Get off."
"…"
"You're coming to the Desolate Fortress with me. Your fates will be decided there. Consider yourselves lucky. You won't die immediately."
Jung Yeonshin decided to use their capture as merit. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner.
They had tried to kill Desolate Fortress' warriors, Shaolin monks, and innocent commoners.
Their affiliation with the Thirteen Heavens only added weight to their crimes.
Jung Yeonshin bound their arms behind their backs with rope. The supplies they had weren't enough, so he braided thick cords on the spot. It was called straw rope.
He had learned the technique as a Desolate Fortress warrior.
Some missions required capturing enemies alive.
Under Monk Won Jong's pleased gaze, Jung Yeonshin set off with the prisoners leading the way.
As they neared the main road, passersby glanced curiously.
Some captives paused, unable to bear the humiliation.
"Don't stop."
At the sharp killing intent promising to cut down escapees, they resumed walking.
Then—
"Aren't those Profound Martial Alliance's young masters?"
It was a caravan from a security agency, known for safely transporting goods and people through the treacherous central plains.
The middle-aged leader, approaching with a smile, suddenly froze.
He seemed to be in charge.
'A security chief?'
The captives seemed to know him.
Jung Yeonshin's prisoners had been ambushing nearby while enjoying a river outing.
It wasn't strange that they had acquainted themselves with the local security agency.
"This… What is this?"
"They committed crimes and are being taken to the Desolate Fortress. They are no longer free. We need no help, so move along."
Jung Yeonshin stepped forward. The man's face twisted in confusion.
An unfamiliar young boy was making a bizarre scene.
"Are you saying you belong to the Desolate Fortress?"
Without a word, Jung Yeonshin took out his identification plaque.
It was called the Desolate Badge.
The gold-plated wood gleamed under the sun.
The expression of the middle-aged man who saw the badge turned peculiar. Jung Yeonshin noticed immediately.
To this man, freeing the young masters of Profound Martial Alliance was important. Was he hoping to pick up some scraps?
It seemed his allegiance leaned more toward the nearby Profound Martial Alliance than the distant Desolate Fortress.
'Not everyone who mingles with the demonic sects is like this guy.'
Some might have no choice but to maintain relations.
Few could stand firm in the face of sharp, drawn swords.
Would this man draw his blade so recklessly? Such a man was just another outlaw. The man spoke.
"I can't believe this. Some supposedly powerful elders must've conspired foolishly and left this task to you. What a bunch of ignorant fools. If they truly knew the Profound Martial Alliance, they wouldn't dare."
Was it a misunderstanding born from rural ignorance? It had been the same with the Xinye White Martial Sect.
It seemed the difference between the Nine Great Sects and the smaller sects lay more in discernment than in martial strength.
Just as Jung Yeonshin reached for his sword hilt—
"Gold Escort Chief! What is going on?"
A young man opened the door of a carriage in the halted procession.
"Ah, Young Master! You shouldn't be out here when you're a guest."
The middle-aged man turned his head away from Jung Yeonshin and forced a smile.
There was a faint trace of unease on his face. Jung Yeonshin quickly understood why.
The aura emanating from the wide-eyed young man was pure and righteous.
'At that age, with such character and position—he must be the Young Master of the Yitian Clan.'
They were nearly there. The Yitian Clan was said to act as a branch of the Desolate Fortress.
They must have already heard about the Xinye incident and were patrolling nearby.
Jung Yeonshin stepped forward.
"I come from the Desolate Fortress—"
"My word! I have the honor of meeting MasterLightning Genius first on behalf of our clan!"
The young master seemed to have scanned Jung Yeonshin's attire and the badge in his hand instantly.
With an excited face, he even used lightness techniques to approach.
Greetings and words of respect followed, accompanied by mention of Jung Yeonshin's achievements, as if he had heard them through city channels. He even forgot to exchange the customary martial salute.
While the middle-aged man's expression twisted, the young master of the Yitian Clan continued his enthusiastic display.
"I suspected it when I read the report about you taking the head of the Blood Fiend Demon Sword! A rising dragon has truly appeared! And now that I see you, even your eyes radiate exceptional presence!"
"Are you the Young Master of the Yitian Clan? Are there others from your house nearby?"
Unfazed by the young master's lively demeanor, Jung Yeonshin asked, maintaining clear order.
The young master's eyes briefly flickered with intrigue.
His demeanor calmed almost instantly, as if this was his true nature all along.
"Indeed. I am Hyun Yoo-ryang of the Yitian Clan."
He finally offered a slight smile and a formal martial salute.
"There are already many waiting. With your arrival, the Radiant Demon Squad dispatched on duty will complete our forces. A Shaolin monk is present as well. Radiant Demon Squad, a Buddhist monk, and now Sir Lightning Genius—it seems today is a day of great revelations."
"Thank you for the update. Now, if you'll excuse me briefly."
Jung Yeonshin pulled a gourd bottle from his robe.
Holding it in his left hand, he poured water into his right.
The people around him looked puzzled, but he stepped straight toward the middle-aged man acting as an escort chief.
The man sneered.
"I still don't believe you. You expect me to accept a single badge as proof of your identity? As if Ironclad Clan members only exist in the Desolate Fortress!"
"When Young Master Hyun stepped forward, I felt the energy emanating from you. It was all too familiar. You people can't hide it."
Jung Yeonshin fully activated his overlapping true energy technique, Limit Releasing Technique.
With a powerful push off the ground, his figure swept around behind the middle-aged man, his final words trailing in the wind.
His fingertips tingled as they cut through the air.
He reached out his dampened hand and brushed the man's hair, revealing streaks of red as black dye smeared off.
"This speaks volumes."
Jung Yeonshin murmured calmly.
Chaos erupted among the security agency members who had been watching nervously.
It was widely known that the Blood Flame Cult forbade concealing hair.
Even if the coloring wasn't due to dyes, such seamless concealment methods were unheard of.
Jin Yul, who had pretended to be an aristocrat, had also worked as an assassin for the Blood Flame Cult.
Whether or not the method was new, it was just as lethal as their shaven-headed cultists.
Blood Flame techniques were rumored to accelerate mastery quickly.
'If they can hide their hair, infiltrating sects and agencies will be far easier.'
Unlike the frozen Blood Flame Cultist, Hyun Yoo-ryang reacted swiftly. His face hardened.
Jung Yeonshin glanced at Monk Won Jong and spoke.
"You mentioned restoring the Shaolin's Steel Hand technique. I'd like to name it 'Azure Steel Hand' in the martial arts manual. Would you permit it?"
"Amitabha. It would be an honor."
The monk seemed to understand instantly, raising one palm in a Shaolin greeting.
His demeanor toward Jung Yeonshin had grown increasingly respectful, as if addressing a young grandmaster.
"These worthless scum! Do you dare act so brazenly—!"
The enraged Blood Flame Cultist spun around. The sinister energy rising from him was palpable.
Jung Yeonshin, however, welcomed it.
He sensed refined strength.
Could it be a Blood Master Swordsman technique? There might be other traces in the dyed strands of his hair.
'It doesn't matter how many there are now.'
With the security agency members, the Yitian Clan's young master, a Shaolin monk, and the Profound Martial Alliance disciples—
Jung Yeonshin slowly raised his hand.
His energy now carried the aura of a Dharma King.
It effortlessly deflected the Blood Flame Cultist's menacing energy.
"You are the scum here."
He spoke and moved at the same time.