CHAPTER 58

The opponent lost both her sword and arm. It happened when Jung Yeonshin was about to strike Hwangbo Mei-wei's neck.

"You ruthless scoundrel!"

The magistrate, who had been standing far back, surged forward like a whirlwind.

The light green hem of his official robe fluttered like a butterfly.

Moving with the distinctive grace of the Ming clan, he passed by Hwangbo Mei-wei and spread his arms wide to block her.

"How dare you harm the main wife of this household? Desolate Fortress is the sword of the Imperial family! How could a mere blade presume to cut down its master?"

"You're saying the Hwangbo bloodline is equal to the Imperial family?"

Jung Yeonshin responded in a flat tone, her eyes more indifferent than if he were looking at trash on the roadside.

He never thought he would feel such contempt for a Ming clansman. At least, not back when he was still at the Jung household.

Magistrate bit his lip once.

"...You can do nothing without first cutting me down. Give it up. I am a magistrate, the magistrate of Pingyin County. How do you intend to harm me? You're not even one of the black ranks!"

Whoosh!

The wind blew once more. Jung Yeonshin cast a sidelong glance.

Chung Myung was now standing by his side.

His usual smiling expression was completely gone.

"Let's just follow the clan's law."

Chung Myung said, his expression shifting as he spoke. Though his eyes remained sharp, his lips curled into a smile.

"The Grand Empress Dowager once declared that Desolate Fortress's Ming clansmen could execute officials below the sixth rank regardless of status. Magistrates are seventh rank, aren't they? I thought it was an absurd privilege, but it seems to have its uses after all."

"You, you truly..."

"If our clan were to mingle with the Han people and become corrupted, that would be disgraceful. No one will object to taking your head. At most, we'll be summoned to Beijing for a brief inquiry."

The magistrate, who had claimed to enjoy the arts of drinking and music while observing the deaths of wandering swordsmen, lost his composure.

His handsome face turned pale.

Even Jung Yeonshin was surprised this time.

The authority of the Ming clan was already a given in the Ming Empire, but to think they wielded powers akin to the black ranks...

Perhaps it was because their imperial blood was deeply mingled with the Ming clan's lineage.

"Phew."

Suddenly, the magistrate let out a sigh. He soon regained his composure and smiled faintly.

"I almost embarrassed myself on the way out. How could one speak of refined pleasures such as drunken feasts and music without maintaining dignity?"

"There's nothing more to say. Just leave without tarnishing your Ming clan's honor."

"Ah, of course."

The moment Chung Myung drew his sword, the magistrate's smile deepened.

"I must be going. There's no one under the heavens who wouldn't welcome my presence."

Jung Yeonshin turned his gaze to the rear. From the direction of the shattered gate, a wave of energy surged.

He had sensed a presence that unnerved him even during the fight with Hwangbo Mei-wei, and it turned out to be no ally.

"Desolate Fortress!"

He was an imposing figure. A middle-aged man with a long scar running down his cheek.

In one hand, he held the scruff of a young girl's neck. She appeared to be about Jung Yeonshin's age, but her pressure points seemed to be sealed.

She couldn't speak, and her body hung stiffly, completely frozen in his grasp.

The man roared like a beast.

"You disgraceful fools who spout twisted ideas of chivalry and disturb the martial world!"

The magistrate, whose face lit up at the sound, chimed in.

"Shall we now address you as Hwangbo Ma-jun rather than Mr. Ma? Such a crisis has indeed arrived! With a warrior of your stature gracing us, I, Jin, feel greatly relieved!"

The magistrate shouted, though he did not seem entirely at ease.

Though Deep Abyss Sword Hwangbo Mei-wei, who was called the first wife, didn't look entirely cheerful as if concerned about her right arm, relief seemed to spread across her face.

Hwangbo Ma-jun, however, did not respond.

He completely ignored the magistrate, as if harboring disdain for him.

Lifting the girl higher, he fixed his gaze squarely on Jung Yeonshin and spoke.

"Young warrior! Wearing the blue insignia of Desolate Fortress at such an age, you must think there's nothing in this world to fear! Especially with that shoulder emblem. The direct disciple of Desolate Fortress' Lord? I can see right through you—drunk on honor and status!"

"...Aren't you the one who sees nothing? Grabbing an innocent civilian like that."

Jung Yeonshin tilted his head slightly as he spoke.

He was already measuring the distance.

Too far. That man had trained extensively.

Even if Chung Myung, who was faster, charged forward, he wouldn't be able to rescue the girl in time.

Hwangbo Ma-jun smirked.

"There is always justice in the Hwangbo bloodline's actions. What would half-baked martial artists who live off the empire's grain know? Desolate Fortress, with your obsession for cutting off the heads of Kangho's warriors, you even dare crawl into Jinan."

"Did you just call that justice?"

Jung Yeonshin alternated his gaze between the girl's slightly raised eyes and Hwangbo Ma-jun as he asked.

His expression conveyed disdain, how could he not feel shame?

Hwangbo Ma-jun puffed out his chest even more.

"The justice of the martial world is noble. You are mere rogues who stir up filth in Kangho. Stop meddling in the world of martial cultivation."

"..."

Such men existed.

This was a world where cultural and ideological exchanges were rare.

Especially in the martial world. It was full of eccentric, single-minded individuals.

Martial arts training was a solitary pursuit.

It was said that reclusive martial artists who emerged from their seclusion often caused storms.

Taking hostages while preaching chivalry.

Confucius and Mencius had no place in conversations with men like these.

Of course, Desolate Fortress didn't converse with martial artists using Confucian principles either—they wielded swords.

'The Hwangbo clan must be even worse. Didn't they call themselves Jinan's royal family? Consolidating their power through blood ties.'

Jung Yeonshin's thoughts were interrupted when Hwangbo Ma-jun shook the girl in his grasp and spoke.

"Your so-called chivalry feels completely alien. Whenever you claim someone has violated imperial law, you rush in to cut off their heads. Were there no true chivalrous warriors among the humble folk? Let me tell you this girl's story."

"Go on."

While responding, Jung Yeonshin began circulating his inner energy.

He stood calmly, preparing the layered ripple technique of Infinite Blossom Fist Strike.

He hoped the force would disrupt his balance.

"This girl's grandfather was Dan Mu-hyu, who served as the magistrate of this Pingyin County before magistrate Jin took over."

The girl's clenched jaw seemed to tighten further.

Hwangbo Ma-jun continued without pause.

"He was a man of unyielding integrity. He confronted rogue martial artists who terrorized the markets, threatening to imprison them under imperial law."

He sneered.

"One strike of palm technique burst his stomach. That rogue thought he could escape with light-footed techniques, but he had to face my clan's wrath, for he had disrupted Jinan's order. We avenged this girl's family."

"You claim to be her savior while holding her hostage?"

"She's highly talented. Despite practicing the trivial Three Talents Heart Method, she's already accumulated substantial inner energy. It would be a waste to kill her, but I've always wanted to expose Desolate Fortress's hypocrisy. She's the granddaughter of the previous magistrate. What will you do?"

It was the magistrate, now even smiling, who responded.

"How much longer must we listen to this?"

Jung Yeonshin suddenly spoke.

At the same time, pitch-black smoke rose from behind Hwangbo Ma-jun's neck.

"What...!"

Standing behind him was Baek Miryeo, her face cold and unyielding.

A dark aura, like flames drawn from the abyss, swirled around her body.

Her eyes were filled entirely with a blackness as deep as the night sky.

Swish.

Contrasting the black aura, Baek Miryeo's hand, pale as snow, seized the back of Hwangbo Ma-jun's neck. He could not resist.

The blue sleeve of Desolate Fortress fluttered, charged with solidified dark energy.

It was the same uniform, yet the martial robe she wore felt different.

It seemed like the return of a celestial maiden, draped in dark robes as if she had stepped out of legend.

Baek Miryeo's lips moved slightly.

"The Eight Great Clans? How pathetic."

Her voice was low.

She had completely overpowered him, suppressing his response with a mysterious force before striking his pressure point in an instant.

He didn't even seem to be a true elite warrior of the main family, merely someone assigned to monitor a branch family.

Chung Myung grinned.

"Radiant Demon Squad, Heavenly Squad, and Annihilation Squad have already headed to your main house. By now, they're likely wiped out. The Masters must have torn them apart."

"W-what?"

The moment the magistrate froze in place, Jung Yeonshin's figure spun.

His movement, smooth like a leaf riding a gentle spring breeze, brushed past the magistrate.

At the end of his swift steps, the Desolate Sword gleamed with a sharp, cold light.

Slash!

Jung Yeonshin felt it clearly in his grip—the sensation of cutting through flesh and bone marked the end of his task.

"...!"

Was she about to call them lowborns again? Hwangbo Mei-wei's lips seemed to shape those words.

It was pointless.

Her lips twisted in horror before her head fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"Desolate Fortress does not negotiate with traitors."

Jung Yeonshin said, staring down at Hwangbo Mei-wei's severed head.

The magistrate, who turned belatedly, reached out with a furious expression, but there was no sound.

A cold, gleaming blade burst through his abdomen.

Chung Myung's Desolate Sword had pierced his back.

"M-me, like this..."

"I haven't even known you long, and I'm already sick of you."

Even as he killed, Chung Myung's voice remained lighthearted.

It was the last thing the magistrate heard.

The energy Chung Myung unleashed through his sword was devastating.

Blood welled up in the corpse's eyes, as though his insides had been completely shattered.

'Chung Myung's strikes are always precise, but this is another level.'

Was it because the opponent was also from a noble clan that he was so ruthless?

It wasn't over.

Turning back, Jung Yeonshin's eyes widened.

"Urgh...!"

From Baek Miryeo's pale hand, which gripped Hwangbo Ma-jun's neck, a chilling cold radiated.

In the same moment, his neck crumbled like shards of ice.

"Ugh!"

The girl who had been held captive managed to land on her feet without falling, stifling a small cry.

The manor fell silent.

The sun was already setting.

The dim sunlight cast hazy beams, as if gently wrapping itself in the coming night.

A chilling breeze swept through the leaves of the pondside ash tree.

The incident had come to a close.

The magistrate and Hwangbo Mei-wei were dead.

The warriors of Hwangbo's branch family had also been annihilated.

The cleanup was not the task of the blue-rank members. Reinforcements from Desolate Fortress would arrive.

Jung Yeonshin sheathed his Desolate Sword and brushed past the girl from the Dan family.

He wanted to say something to the girl, who had been through such a harrowing experience.

Without stopping, he spoke slowly.

"You... you have talent for martial arts."

"Huh?"

The girl snapped her head around, but Jung Yeonshin did not look back.

Baek Miryeo, who had already erased the solidified black energy, was smiling faintly.

Her eyes, once entirely black, had regained their whites and dark pupils.

Only her pale hand remained unchanged.

She gently stroked Jung Yeonshin's head, her soft sleeve brushing his ear with a cool touch.

"Desolate Fortress is not a sect that preaches chivalry. If you aim to become a true hero, you'll face pain one day."

"...Thank you for the advice."

Jung Yeonshin replied, closing his eyes briefly.

In any case, the mission was a success.

Another significant achievement had been made.

As for the main house of Hwangbo, which the Masters had attacked directly, there was no room for interference.

It was then.

As though waiting for the end of the incident, a bird flew in.

Its sky-blue feathers glistened as it landed gracefully on Chung Myung's finger.

It seemed to be a spiritual creature.

Unlike the ones used by Hwangbo's second son, this one exuded an unusual scent.

Chung Myung untied the small letter attached to the bird's leg.

"Did Shin So-bin write this? The writing's packed tight."

Scanning the letter quickly, Chung Myung tilted his head slightly.

"Is something wrong?"

Jung Yeonshin asked calmly.

"No. It's not from the team that went to deal with the main house."

"Then...?"

"You know the descendants of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering that the white-clad ones were holding? Looks like their clans put in a desperate effort. They finally found them."

"The location?"

"Yeah. They even fought Blood Flame Cultists. There were three battles—first martial clans, then the Blood Flame Cult, and then the martial clans again. They reorganized their formation but ended up suffering a major defeat. Even Heon Wonchang was captured."