Jung Yeonshin thought it was not good. The martial world was harsh. Arrogance was an emotion that hastened a short life.
It was not a mindset worthy of possessing even before tasting the fruit.
One must not truly believe it just because many people hailed them as a genius.
'Just give me the fruit. I'll do anything.'
He hypnotized himself, recalling the curved smile and deep green eyes of the Lord of Desolate Fortress.
A feeling as if falling into an abyss.
While silently pleading for the fruit of the World Tree, the door of the hall opened.
* * *
They said it was an unprecedented matter. There was talk that the Crown Prince had requested it personally.
Some sharp seniors commented.
Lacking a justification to meet the Lightning Genius privately, they used the excuse of commending Ming's sword.
"So, you are the blue-ranked warriors promoted this time."
Jung Yeonshin met the third sky of the Ming Dynasty.
Do Yu-won didn't even need to give advice. The man was already famous for being capricious.
"I am the Crown Prince of this nation."
An extraordinarily handsome young nobleman stood before them.
His ears, sharp as the tip of a treasured sword, looked familiar. Perhaps five and a half chi tall(1.83m)?
He seemed to be about the same height as Jung Yeonshin, who had grown significantly recently.
Under his thick, jet-black eyebrows, his eyes gleamed like dark thunderclouds.
In the sunlight streaming in brightly, he seemed to stand alone as if he were the only presence.
His gaze swept over the blue-ranked warriors paying their respects, carrying a natural dignity.
Was it the aura of someone born to rule over the world?
He had already told them they could lift their heads, but Jung Yeonshin was the only one who actually did.
'It's not like he'll build up merits for me.'
Even the Emperor, renowned for his peerless martial arts, treated the Lord of Desolate Fortress with the respect due to a king.
It was said that she had taught martial arts to both the Emperor and the Crown Prince.
An ancient Grand Master (Taesa) of the Ming Dynasty. Even with the Crown Prince's authority, he could do nothing about the fruit of the World Tree, making this meeting meaningless to Jung Yeonshin.
His loyalty was the same. Survival came first, and everything else followed.
'I should start asking the Lord for guidance soon. Should I request mental cultivation techniques after all?'
Lost in thought, he suddenly locked eyes with the Crown Prince. Those pitch-black eyes held a strange curiosity.
"You."
The Crown Prince of the Great Ming Empire opened his mouth.
"Can you play music with a sword?"
"...?"
"It's not uncommon for renowned swordsmen to resonate their swords. But a sword song is different. It belongs to the realm of true energy control. They say one must have innate talent to turn sword resonance into music."
It was an abrupt statement that left him silent. Suddenly, the Crown Prince laughed heartily.
"I've heard that your talent is exceptional, so I decided to ask. Aren't we of similar age?"
His behavior was shocking. His words and demeanor exuded overwhelming confidence.
It felt as if he was declaring that no one in the world could challenge him.
"Losing what I possess is rare for me, and even rarer when it comes to my interests. But they say the Lord has taken notice of you. I also felt it while studying under her. A sense of envy rose in my heart."
"...I am deeply honored."
"No. It is my fault. Such a thing should be unthinkable for the Crown Prince. It is a flaw, an imperfection. I wanted to confirm your talent, hoping this shame might lessen even a little."
The Crown Prince's gaze was intensely straight.
It was clear he had trained in supreme martial arts, possessing the characteristic sharpness of a master, but there seemed to be something more.
'Presence.'
Jung Yeonshin thought.
While Wei-Ji Myohwa of Zhongnan Sect was called the Cloud Sword Dragon, this man seemed sufficient to be called simply a dragon.
There was a reason why both the Crown Prince and the Heir Apparent of Ming were addressed as 'Your Highness'.
He had no idea. This was the kind of presence possessed by one who unified the world through bloodlines.
"But it seems I asked for too much. Sword songs are among the most luxurious entertainments in the world, practiced only by royalty. How could I ask you? Even I only learned it briefly from my father, the Heir Apparent. My apologies—it is embarrassing."
With a slight smile, the Crown Prince clasped his hands behind his back and turned around.
"All of you may leave. It was a pleasant meeting."
* * *
"What was the Crown Prince like? I've only ever seen him from afar."
It was after all the events had concluded.
Shin So-bin leaned in with her small face. Radiant Demon Squad and the others had not gone to bed and were waiting in the lodging.
A banquet had been prepared in the Great Martial Hall. Perhaps this was the influence of the Radiant Demon Squad on the Lord of Desolate Fortress.
"Well, he dismissed us too quickly."
Jung Yeonshin gave a vague answer. The fragrant smell of the feast seemed to stimulate his energy center.
After going through events he had never experienced before, his hunger grew stronger.
Today, even Jung Yeonshin couldn't avoid drinking.
Despite being mindful of his inner energy circulation, he accepted a drink brought by Heon Wonchang after much consideration.
Shoaxing wine.
A precious liquor brought from distant Xiangyang to Yangyang.
Heon Wonchang had rushed to Yangyang's best tavern to acquire it.
'Is this supposed to be good?'
The sentiment behind it and the taste were separate matters.
After taking a sip of wine along with the senior's toast, Jung Yeonshin unconsciously furrowed his brow.
The seniors burst into laughter. Even Shin So-bin, the junior, looked at him as if he were a child.
"A blue-ranked Lightning Genius."
"Too short a time for such a drastic change."
"Didn't he achieve great merits? We were amazed at the Blood Fiend Demon Sword, but the Seventh Apostle…"
They all chatted noisily.
Even the masters of Desolate Fortress, revered by the world, were no different from commoners once they started drinking.
In the midst of this, Jung Yeonshin recalled the task the Crown Prince had mentioned.
To him, it felt more like an assignment. It was just that a spark of inspiration had struck his mind.
'A sword song, he said. Playing music with sword resonance.'
He had heard many rumors since coming to Desolate Fortress. Once, there was a tale about sound-based martial arts.
It was a famous story in the martial world.
A swordsman supposedly played the guqin to face a hundred enemies.
By plucking the strings a few times, he burst the ears of his opponents.
It wasn't hard to guess the principle.
'True energy.'
In the end, it was core energy. The problem was how much one could amplify the utility of true energy in the air.
That was where the difference between top-tier and third-rate martial arts lay.
'Maybe it's possible to create sound-based techniques with a sword.'
If successful, handling multiple enemies would become much easier.
"Drink up!"
"We're out of snacks here!"
Was every drinking party like this?
The banquet was no longer about celebrating the Lightning Genius—it was just people having fun. Surprisingly, it put him at ease.
Jung Yeonshin entertained Heon Wonchang's drunken ramblings while continuing to devise sound-based techniques.
Thus, the noisy day came to an end under a gentle moonlit night.
* * *
Even the next day, the schedule continued. This time, it was a reward for the blue-ranked promotion.
"Choose quickly. Every one of these is a treasured blade."
The man stood slightly above Jung Yeonshin's waist. With a bushy beard and short limbs, his arms were incredibly thick.
Even through his clothes, his muscles looked stronger than Jung Yeonshin's, who practiced internal techniques.
"Still, a sword must fit the hand, right?"
"They were made to fit anyone. No one can blame the weapon before reflecting on their own martial skills."
It was as if the hidden pride in the blacksmith's bearded face radiated through his words.
It was said that rather than focusing on the short stature of the Iron Tribe, one should look at their skills.
'They even make divine swords, after all.'
Jung Yeonshin scanned the armory with Chung Myung. Every weapon looked extraordinary. It really seemed like he could pick any one of them.
Chung Myung, wearing a faint smile, spoke up.
"Still, you should be careful. This is a one-time promotion reward. They say you can choose another when you reach the black rank, but still."
"Hey, Demonic Sword. Is this kid really blue-ranked? I can't believe it. I've never heard of such a case. No matter how indifferent our clan is to the outside world—"
"Can't you tell by the uniform?"
Chung Myung's firm response silenced the Iron Tribe man.
It seemed the nickname "Demonic Sword" carried some notoriety, though it was unfamiliar to Jung Yeonshin.
He nudged Chung Myung's arm.
"Hmm?"
"What about that one?"
Jung Yeonshin pointed to a sword displayed on the rack. Both its blade and sheath were pure white.
Compared to the Desolate Sword at his waist, which was completely black except for the blade, this one would create an interesting contrast.
"Beiming, huh? That one's a good one."
The Iron Tribe man responded, treating the sword as if it were alive.
After getting permission, Jung Yeonshin approached and grabbed the sword. Feeling the texture of the grip for a moment, he then drew the blade.
Srrng—
A dazzling, pure-white blade emerged, rippling with patterns like waves. Jung Yeonshin infused it with his energy through his right hand.
He immediately sensed its superior quality. The energy flowed smoothly, dancing along the blade.
Bringing the blade closer, he brushed it with his left hand. At that moment, a faint blue spark flashed before his eyes.
"...This might even play a melody with its resonance."
"You?"
The Iron Tribe man scoffed. Perhaps because his clan supplied weapons to the Imperial family, he seemed familiar with sword melodies.
"It's an art so divine that unless you're practically bonded with your weapon, you can't even dream of it. Even top masters can't mimic it without talent, let alone someone holding a blade for the first time."
"Quiet."
Chung Myung interrupted.
Jung Yeonshin had already closed his eyes.
Even without swinging the sword, he understood.
He could feel how to move the blade, how to subtly alter its path to harmonize with the air.
It was something separate from experience.
It would take time to become as familiar with Beiming as he was with the Desolate Sword, but he instantly grasped what kind of blade it was. It was a natural talent.
At that moment, he felt a familiar energy wave approaching from afar.
A lofty presence, as if ready to soar into the sky, could it be the Crown Prince he had seen earlier?
Soon, the Iron Tribe man frowned.
"I told you to hurry and choose. The Crown Prince is coming."
It wasn't a coincidence.
They said royal processions were always extreme.
It was either completely secretive or known by everyone. In Desolate Fortress, a place full of top masters, it was impossible not to notice if the Crown Prince wasn't hiding or traveling incognito.
Jung Yeonshin had never seen imperial martial arts before. Perhaps he could gain some inspiration, which is why he had chosen this particular timing.
"The Crown Prince has been wandering around a lot lately?"
Chung Myung asked in a curious tone. The Iron Tribe man nodded.
"After the Crown Princess passed away, he turned to martial arts for solace. They say he's trying to ease his grief through the sword."
"The Crown Princess..."
Jung Yeonshin unintentionally repeated.
He examined the Beiming Sword briefly, then casually asked Chung Myung.
"If I gain the Crown Prince's favor, could it help when challenging for a leadership position, like commanding the Divine Sword Squad?"
"Of course, it's better than having no connection. That position isn't won by strength alone."
Chung Myung smiled slightly as he answered. Jung Yeonshin nodded.
That was good enough.
He had already practiced with the Desolate Sword. If he was aiming to create a sound technique that could fight a hundred foes, there was no reason he couldn't master a sword melody.
He stepped out of the armory.
Wuuuung—
As soon as he infused energy into Beiming again, the sword emitted a mysterious vibrating sound.
It was like the cry of a newly hatched flood dragon, followed by a resonating melody spreading outward.
"Wha—!"
Even the Iron Tribe man's startled voice was drowned out by the sound.
* * *
The Ming Dynasty was an empire born from the union of the Ming Emperor and a royal consort from the Ming Tribe.
The Ming Tribe was revered as an immortal lineage, and it was said that the Empress's bloodline granted longevity to their descendants.
The throne changed hands only through wars or assassinations.
The current Emperor was powerful, having ruled unchallenged for many years.
Thanks to Desolate Fortress, no supreme masters dared to target the Imperial family, and as time passed, the Emperor became more relaxed.
He once faced the 108 Arhats formation of Shaolin alone to test his skills.
The Crown Prince had held his title for decades, with no clear justification to ascend the throne.
Crown Prince Zhu Yun-myeong was born late in his father's life.
As the son of a fading prince, he had to watch his father gradually lose his vigor.
Whenever his father calmed his mind, he would practice sword melodies. But at some point, those melodies stopped.
"Sword melodies..."
The Crown Prince murmured, walking toward the Desolate Fortress armory.
"Who else would practice such an extravagant art?"
Having lost his mother, the Crown Princess, early, he often spoke to himself—a habit so well-known that his attendants no longer reacted.
It was then.
Under the fading twilight, a boy in a blue martial robe, his long coat fluttering, stood with a sword lowered in his hand.
He had seen him before. Wasn't this the one called the Lightning Genius?
Even the Lord of Desolate Fortress, whom the Crown Prince admired, received daily reports about this young swordsman.
Was it intuition?
A story came to the Crown Prince's mind.
In the Spring and Autumn period, a legendary musician once called someone his "Zhiyin"—a true friend who perfectly understood his music.
"A sword melody...?"
The Crown Prince heard the resonance from the boy's sword. Without realizing it, his steps quickened.
And then he saw it.
It felt as though his ears had opened naturally.
Wuuuuung—
The cry of a newly awakened flood dragon gradually transformed into the roar of a dragon.
It was a resonance that seemed to long for something distant, carrying a sense of sorrow that felt almost mournful.
The sword melody, as if rising from a dragon's throat, drew even the Crown Prince's old memories to the surface.
He recalled the sword melodies played by his father, when he had still been full of life.
Lost in that distant memory, the Crown Prince muttered softly, as if sighing.
"Was there someone who could be my Zhiyin...?"