CHAPTER 122

The air in the City of Master Craftsmen grew heavy. An unusually cold breeze swept past the martial artists of the Tang Clan and Beggar's Sect.

The atmosphere brushing against the cave walls emitted rough, dull sounds.

It reflected the emotions of Hu-gae from the Beggar's Sect.

'Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin. Radiant Demon Squad's Blue Rank, a temporary leader of the martial force.'

Conflicting emotions surged simultaneously—reverence and wariness. As a martial artist, he was in awe.

The accomplishment was far too rapid, and to fathom the depths of his martial arts required plunging into an abyss.

To Hu-gae, the boy's strength clearly surpassed the realm of rising talents.

'The Black Rank of Desolate Fortress. Before long, the Divine Sword Squad may have a new leader.'

There was more. Simply accumulating martial power differed from defeating top-tier masters in battle.

It showed an innate talent for combat, implying mastery of techniques surpassing his martial level.

To find another martial artist of Lightning Genius' age who had reached such heights would require searching through history.

Even then, only a handful might emerge—names like Bodhidharma, Zhang Sanfeng, and the founding master of the Ming Cult.

Thus, it was awe-inspiring, a rare marvel. Those who walked the martial path could hardly resist such feelings.

However, the perspective of those who oversaw the martial world differed. The Beggar's Sect was one of the Nine Great Sects.

It was a sect tasked with preserving chivalry and order in the martial arts world.

The emergence of a boy with monstrous strength inevitably raised alarms.

'The martial alliance's gathering is approaching. Even if only nominally, Desolate Fortress' masters must be invited. If that boy attends, will any peer be able to face him?'

None came to mind easily.

Few sects welcomed the achievements of Desolate Fortress' martial artists.

Unless they were one of the Nine Great Sects dedicated to cultivating spiritual refinement, most sects would instinctively reach for their swords.

Even without wrongdoing, Desolate Fortress sought to suppress the martial world under the guise of protecting the people.

Their vision of order amounted to martial oppression.

Excluding sects rooted in religious traditions, Hu-gae knew that most orthodox martial artists shared this sentiment.

"Do they think I've harmed the common folk? Did some innkeepers complain? Heroes drink and occasionally draw their swords—so what? The world is full of evildoers. Desolate Fortress is sacrificing the greater cause for the lesser."

Hu-gae couldn't help but agree, at least partially.

"Desolate Fortress. One particularly sharp blade has dulled, but another sword is sharpening its edge—absurdly young, a newly forged treasure. Truly unfair."

He grumbled quietly, referring to Radiant Demon Squad and Lightning Genius.

A mere rising talent had killed elite martial artists of great sects—not one, but two. Who would believe it?

The defeated, Dokgo Gwang and Ha Yul-geuk, were comparable to the leaders of the Eight Major Clan's martial forces.

'Even the smallest ripple in the martial world's balance could shift due to this unbelievable prodigy.'

Scratching his back, Hu-gae pondered while trying to get a clearer view of Lightning Genius.

He was obscured by the presence of Desolate Fortress' warriors, their formation intimidating.

"You seem to be scheming something sinister."

A soft footstep echoed. Hu-gae turned his head. Tang Ryeo-ryeo of the Tang Clan gazed at him quietly.

"Sinister? What do you take the Beggar's Sect for? Call it foresight and strategy. We beggars protected the commoners while others fought."

He responded slyly, causing Tang Ryeo-ryeo's brows to knit slightly.

She couldn't deny it. As Radiant Demon Squad's energy waned, the Beggar's Sect protected the residents of the City of Master Craftsmen.

Most of the surviving Iron Tribe had been safeguarded, now huddled together.

Only the desolate land of the City of Master Craftsmen remained empty.

Hu-gae grinned and said,

"Before nitpicking others' faults, examine your own conduct. Weren't you too fixated on Lightning Genius out of fear that the 'Full Sky Flower Rain' technique might be lost? Though your men helped us, who would have thought a Tang heiress would call me sinister?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Do you think I didn't notice you sizing people up? Worried he might obstruct the martial alliance's formation?"

"Then tell me, does your grandfather know about your prolonged journey?"

"Does that matter?"

Tang Ryeo-ryeo brushed her hair behind her ear and replied.

Her demeanor reflected the pride of a noble daughter from a renowned family. Hu-gae's smile deepened.

"If your fixation on Lightning Genius stems from 'Full Sky Flower Rain', I can understand. What could be more important than a treasured technique of your clan? How many martial artists with Lightning Genius' potential exist?"

"..."

"Yet I urge you to watch your words. Didn't the Tang Clan also vow in the alliance charter to no longer tolerate oppressive tyranny after the incidents with Hwangbo and Namgoong? Your sharp words might harm the trust among allies. I doubt the grandfather would approve."

Hu-gae continued with a smile.

"Let's keep our distance. The Tang Clan makes me uneasy."

His leisurely tone carried a veiled blade. Tang Ryeo-ryeo remained silent.

She judged that this was not the place to trade sharp words, surrounded by Desolate Fortress' warriors.

Perhaps it was because the truth would soon come to light. Hu-gae's nerve seemed almost ridiculous.

At that moment—

"Hey, my household's been wiped out, so why are you all making a fuss?"

A jovial voice accompanied a surge of scorching energy. A strong arm rested on Hu-gae's shoulder.

The Flame Dragon had suddenly appeared. The atmosphere shifted instantly.

His blazing Yang energy heated the air.

"Like a headless chicken."

He spoke while leaning on Hu-gae.

His languid tone silenced the crowd.

The overwhelming heat and might made him seem invincible, beyond the reach of rising talents.

"..."

Hu-gae remained silent. Even the Beggar's Sect members didn't step forward. Flame Dragon was already a widely renowned prodigy.

His display of martial prowess today had been nothing short of shocking.

Excluding Lightning Genius, Radiant Demon Squad, and the Tang Clan's master, no one could rival him.

Thus, Flame Dragon stood in silence, offering a crushing pressure that gripped everyone's nerves.

No one doubted his ability to reduce Hu-gae to ashes.

"Wow, look at this. Fascinating, truly. Perhaps the only joy left in my life."

Muttering like a lunatic, Flame Dragon stared at Jung Yeonshin.

Even then, faint ripples of light flowed from the boy's body.

"Thrilling. Absolutely exhilarating."

It was a sight that embodied the vastness of martial arts. Flame Dragon smirked.

Hu-gae remained frozen until Lightning Genius completed his meditation.

Not until the boy opened his eyes and Heon Wonchang rushed over with his sword did Hu-gae dare move.

"Take this, young master."

Grinning, Heon Wonchang handed over the blade.

Lightning Genius' lips curved into a slight smile.

Heon Wonchang's cheerful manner was always uplifting.

"You've achieved something truly astonishing. Your progress in martial arts is incredible…"

His praise had only begun.

The senior warriors of Radiant Demon Squad surrounded Lightning Genius, offering respect rather than casual gestures.

Despite their losses, they smiled proudly.

Grief was hidden and endured—it seemed they had long mastered coping with sorrow.

Their experiences ran deeper than Lightning Genius'.

'I need to learn that…'

The boy thought as images of fallen comrades flashed before him.

He steadied his heart, knowing it was not yet time to let down his guard.

It was because there were so many wounded. The right thing to do was to leave the cave quickly and find a physician.

For a brief moment, they had simply been unable to contain their joy at reuniting.

"Please wait a moment!"

From one side, the Iron Tribe of the City of Master Craftsmen approached. There were about a hundred of them. Their heartfelt words of gratitude came first.

They bowed deeply in unison, their postures radiating profound respect.

Boundless gratitude.

Their sincere appreciation was palpable. Their gazes alternated intensely between Jung Yeonshin and Ma Jin.

It was not the way one looks at a person. It was reverence—worship.

These were people who had lived their lives in confined spaces.

To them, the Black Rank seemed like a divine realm.

"Could this young master be the reincarnation of Lu Dongbin…?"

[Note- Lu Dongbin is the name of a famous figure in Chinese mythology and Taoism. Lu Dongbin is one of the Eight Immortals (Ba Xian) and is known as a legendary Taoist adept, poet, and swordsman.]

Someone murmured, invoking the name of one of the Eight Immortals in Taoist legends.

Chung Myung, standing nearby, nudged Jung Yeonshin playfully, agreeing as if it were true. Baek Miryeo added a short comment, joining in.

Their playful smiles showed a shift in demeanor. Many of the seniors had changed, but Radiant Demon Squad's group remained the same.

The boy jabbed Chung Myung's injured abdomen with his elbow and flicked Baek Miryeo's back with his finger.

The seniors cried out in protest.

Meanwhile, the leader of the Iron Tribe stepped forward.

"Please, please, tell us what you desire. We will repay you in any way we can."

Jung Yeonshin spoke immediately.

"A prosthetic arm."

"Pardon…?"

"I heard that the energy of Bodhidharma was refined into a treasure. Then, is it impossible to craft a prosthetic arm powered by internal energy? I've heard this place is full of mystical tools."

"Ah."

The chief, a burly man with a thick beard, suddenly brightened.

A positive response followed. However, they could not begin work right away.

Even among their group, many were injured. The war between factions that ranked among the most powerful in the martial world had taken its toll.

Fragments of weapons had wounded some, while others had lost limbs.

"There's not a single unscathed person."

The Tang Clan's leader clicked his tongue.

He cast a strange look at Jung Yeonshin while scanning the devastated City of Master Craftsmen area he had once hoped to take under his influence.

"It's best to look for physicians outside. Follow me, all of you."

But preparation time was necessary. They carried the bodies of their comrades and hurriedly applied hemostatic ointment to the wounds of the injured.

Jung Yeonshin bowed his head in silent prayer before the bodies of his seniors.

"..."

Suddenly.

The boy felt a certain gaze.

A faint halo stirred within his heart. He detected an unfamiliar yet distinct energy.

'This is….'

He turned his head. He had to look far, all the way to the distant stone wall.

The figure that came into view was familiar—a slender frame with eyes that gleamed like crystallized blood.

Amid the harsh gusts sweeping through the cave, her eerie gaze peered through long, fluttering black hair.

It was the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult. Her jet-black hair and the hem of her crimson robes fluttered wildly.

She narrowed her red eyes in a teasing squint.

"What now."

The boy muttered.