CHAPTER 123

The Seventh Apostle's eyes softened slightly. It was uncertain whether she had noticed Jung Yeonshin's lips move.

She took a light step.

With just a slight turn of her body, it seemed as though she was pulling in the night air, slowly blending into the darkness of the cave.

There was an aura of elegance in her movements.

The Seventh Apostle turned her head and once again gave a playful wink with her crimson eye, but the boy only blinked once.

Not knowing how to respond, he merely observed her mysterious poise.

'Blood energy envelops her entire body. Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown… Has her will become one with her internal energy?'

Footwork, body technique, and lightness skill—he realized he had yet to master any of them properly.

For now, he was relying on Chung Myung's movement principles and the shared techniques of the Desolate Fortress.

Creating the forms of steps and movements was another matter entirely.

"We're setting out." 

Ma Jin said .

The experts of the Desolate Fortress, along with members of the Tang Clan, the Beggars' Sect, and the residents of City of Master Craftsmen, began to move.

They stepped out of the City of Master Craftsmen. The once solid ground had softened.

It was the aftermath of the experts' internal energy surges.

With each step, the sound of crushed stone echoed emptily.

Behind them, the eerie remains of the Thirteen Heavens' warriors lay scattered.

Walking beside Ma Jin, Jung Yeonshin fell into deep thought.

He didn't know how to sort out his feelings about the Seventh Apostle. The complexities of grace and resentment were tangled.

Crossing swords regardless of life and death was not the issue. That was simply how martial artists pursuing mastery interacted.

The real problem was the missing Elder Council leader.

It was said he had been chasing the Seventh Apostle's trail. There were questions to be asked.

And then there was her identity as one of the Blood Flame Cult's limbs.

When he entered the main hall as a grand master, the Blood Flame Cult's three apostles had mentioned the Zheng family.

Since the apostles knew about it, the one who authorized the extermination order had to be the Blood Flame Cult leader.

A noble of an unorthodox cult was no more than a sword wielded by its leader. Treating her as an enemy was only natural.

If they were to cross swords, there could be no hesitation.

But the matter of the City of Master Craftsmen was different.

'She did save my life. Without the True energy of the Grandmaster Bodhidharma….'

They would have been annihilated.

Jung Yeonshin, who had yet to master Radiant Wheel Energy, was weak.

He couldn't have matched Dokgo Gwang, the Sword-Thirst Demon. He pictured himself barely lasting a few exchanges before falling to the sword force.

His internal injuries had even left him subdued by the Seventh Apostle.

She could have killed him instead of granting him a miraculous chance.

A fragment of true energy imbued with Bodhidharma's spirit was treasure enough to bring a storm of bloodshed the moment its existence leaked outside the City of Master Craftsmen.

The Thirteen Heavens' sects had pushed Radiant Demon Squad to the brink just to obtain it.

The Bodhidharma's Sacred Relic.

It was said all martial arts under heaven originated from Shaolin. The relic contained the spiritual essence of Shaolin's founding patriarch.

Yet instead of keeping it for herself, she had given it to Jung Yeonshin?

It wasn't something one could do with an ordinary mindset.

'There seems to be no other explanation.'

The boy pondered.

The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult. She had persistently asked him to create techniques, and even handed over the sacred relic.

She prioritized the completion of martial arts over power. It was the attitude of a pure seeker of martial arts.

Could she really be a noble of the Blood Flame Cult, infamous for absorbing essence? He didn't know. She was full of mysteries.

He recalled the teaching that one must approach grace and resentment in Jianghu with clarity.

Grace and grudges must be clear. What should he do?

"Uh… Young Master."

A cautious voice interrupted his thoughts.

Looking up, he saw the figure of a small boy walking beside him—Tang Yeohwa, the Venomous Dragon.

Next to him was Tang Ryeo-ryeo, the Venomous Phoenix.

Tang Ryeo-ryeo fiddled with her short hair that draped over her neck. Her timid demeanor was different from when they first met.

Jung Yeonshin had never seen such behavior before. Both siblings were acting strangely.

The boy quietly observed them.

"What is it?"

"Uh, Young Master. No, Sir. I mean…"

Tang Yeohwa stuttered. Perhaps it was because he had witnessed the boy defeat the Sword-Thirst Demon and the Pure Demon Alliance.

His words and actions were extremely careful, even reverent.

The glances he stole at Jung Yeonshin's face were filled with admiration.

Tang Ryeo-ryeo furrowed her brows, as if frustrated by her brother, but even she couldn't meet Jung Yeonshin's eyes directly. She muttered softly.

"Master Jung. Would you consider coming to our family estate with the people from the Desolate Fortress? If you need many physicians, there are few places in Sichuan that can match the Tang Clan. It's also the closest to the City of Master Craftsmen."

The Tang Clan of Sichuan was known for venoms and concealed weapons. Any prestigious family mastering venom techniques had to also excel in medicine.

Venoms and antidotes were inseparable.

"The Tang Clan? Can we trust them?"

Heon Wonchang interjected abruptly.

It was due to the Radiant Demon Squad's mission—to investigate whether the Tang Clan was manufacturing thunder bombs.

They were suspected rebels, and walking into their den might be like stepping into a tiger's jaws.

But the decision was Ma Jin's to make.

Jung Yeonshin showed his uncle the stone fragments in his hand.

The swirling forms, created by suction and release techniques, were strange.

Ma Jin, his scarred face reflecting disbelief, recognized the entrance technique of Full Sky Flower Rain.

"Well, I suppose this was bound to happen…"

Letting out a hollow laugh, he spoke.

"Then let's summon the Tang Clan to the Sichuan branch of the Desolate Fortress. It's too risky to enter their estate directly. With our current condition, we don't know what mechanisms or venom formations might be hidden."

Ma Jin's gaze swept over his subordinates and his empty left shoulder with a bitter expression.

Jung Yeonshin silently nodded and looked at the Tang siblings.

"..."

To treat the Tang Clan's martial experts as mere physicians was bold.

But the siblings didn't object.

Standing before an ultimate martial artist wielding Full Sky Flower Rain, they couldn't.

The rain of flower petals had long been the Tang Clan's greatest aspiration.

No martial artist would prioritize pride over the legitimacy of their techniques.

Ma Jin's request had to be accepted. Tang Yeohwa and Tang Ryeo-ryeo nervously chatted away.

"They'll probably bring every medicine and antidote they have. It's been their lifelong dream…"

"Don't worry, Master Jung. The Tang Clan never acts rashly before absolute techniques. We're clear about grace and grudges. We'll treat you according to Jianghu's rules and ethics."

Jung Yeonshin thanked them, but his gaze shifted backward.

A middle-aged woman with a missing left arm smiled at him.

Wu Yu-xiang—his senior and Radiant Demon Squad's companion. She had treated him like a son.

"Yeonshin, relax your brows. A man with a harsh expression won't attract followers. Even if he's as handsome as Song Yu of Chu state, he won't amount to much. You're aiming for the black rank now."

"Senior …"

"No sulking. You're going to grow into a great man."

Wu Yu-xiang gently patted the back of his head with her rough, calloused palm. It felt incredibly soft—Radiant Demon Squad's warmth.

"Your grandfather will arrive soon. We need to prepare a human-skin mask."

Tang Clan's head muttered quietly, watching the siblings.

It referred to the Grand Elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan.

At that moment, a smooth voice lingered in Jung Yeonshin's mind.

—Be wary of the leader, young and mighty Grand Master.

Seventh Apostle's transmission faded quickly, leaving behind an odd tone.

Concern when mentioning the leader, amusement when calling him young and mighty.

Jung Yeonshin didn't bother looking for her.

The Radiant Wheel had already told him.

The message came from outside his sense, like the cry of a bat.

'I need to be mindful of internal energy.'

Pondering the Seventh Apostle's words, the boy fell into thought.

* * *

Eastern Sichuan Province, the Desolate Fortress's branch office in Qizhou.

A man stood atop the roof of a pavilion, his hands clasped behind his back as he overlooked the city.

Dressed in blue martial robes, he seemed to relish the fluttering sensation of his garment in the breeze.

The bold black character for "Desolate" was emblazoned on his attire, a symbol of reverence even from afar.

A group of children wandering the streets, chewing on sweets, stopped in their tracks and gazed up at him in awe.

'Let's hope nothing unusual happens.'

The sole elite martial artist of the Qizhou branch, Jang Il-do, paid no attention to the children.

He was the branch leader.

Tasked with accommodating the Seventeen Grandmasters of the Divine Sword Squad dispatched from the main fortress, he also managed the region's public welfare as much as the branch's limited resources allowed.

Known as Jang Il-do, the Towering Sword , his name commanded the utmost respect across all martial clans in Qizhou.

Clan leaders often rushed out barefoot to greet him. Even though the branch office's strength paled in comparison to the main fortress' martial forces, the respect was well warranted.

With Desolate Fortress backing him, such deference was only natural.

'Lately, things feel... off.'

The atmosphere among the martial clans had been shifting subtly but noticeably.

Perhaps it started with the rumor that the Namgoong family's direct bloodline had been annihilated by the Desolate Fortress' Divine Sword Squad leader and Lightning Genius.

Or perhaps it was after the fall of the Hwangbo family.

Either way, it wasn't something Jang Il-do could do much about.

Born in Sichuan, he had found satisfaction in life as a blue-robe warrior of the Desolate Fortress.

Content with his modest life, he was utterly startled when high-ranking figures like the Radiant Demon Squad leader and other warriors from the main fortress suddenly arrived.

There were few who could walk without injury. The sight of the rare Iron Tribe following in droves was equally astonishing.

'The main house must be in ruins.'

While fleeing, he had instructed the servants and subordinates to treat them with utmost care.

After sending a courier to request physicians from the Sichuan Tang Clan, he felt a twinge of tension.

It was because he had to host the top experts of the Sichuan First Family along with martial artists from the Desolate Fortress. It was a troublesome situation.

Yet, the reason he now stood alone atop the gently sloping roof was different. A letter had arrived from the main sect.

—The martial world is in turmoil, and the purple robe has been donned. The branch leader must prepare to receive the former head of the Divine Sword Squad. Additionally, greater vigilance is required against the Tang Clan and the Thirteen Heavens' rabble.

His nerves had been on edge ever since he read those words.

It said that a forgotten legend would personally visit. The date of arrival was today.

Even with top experts from the main fortress, the Iron Tribe, Tang Clan elites, and Beggars' Sect lieutenants gathered below in the pavilions, they did not concern him.

He was curious about the boy rumored to be exceptional, but now was not the time to dwell on that.

Jang Il-do anxiously bit his lip.

Not even when facing the Radiant Demon Squad or the Grand Elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan had he displayed such unease.

That morning.

When the first rays of white sunlight touched the tallest roof, he stood atop it, stepping over the shimmering light.

It was to welcome the man who had once been the second most revered figure in the martial world.

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he felt an ominous presence emanating from the road stretching out under the clear sky. It was a terrifyingly transparent day.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Gasp…!"

Jang Il-do's body jolted. He reached for his sword but was immediately subdued.

A stiff sensation crept up the back of his neck. Only his eyes could move.

Beside him stood an old man.

His straight, white beard reached down to his chest.

He wore a sturdy-looking body wrapped in a purple robe, its upright collar accentuating his sharp and commanding appearance.

"Is there any trouble in the branch?"

Ma Yeonjeok asked slowly, his jet-black eyes gleaming intensely.

Even though he clearly possessed the ability to contain his energy, it seemed he deliberately chose not to.

Jang Il-do's eyes darted up and down. Cold sweat trickled down his neck.

A figure of overwhelming force had finally arrived at his branch. The weight of his presence was overwhelming.

Combined with his legendary reputation, it felt like facing an unstoppable storm.

A Purple Robe Martial Artist of the Desolate Fortress had come to Sichuan.

The major sects of Sichuan had yet to make their move.

* * *

"Step down from the Radiant Demon Squad's side. You should return to the main house."

Ma Yeonjeok spoke. It was in the presence of Jung Yeonshin and Ma Jin.

The soft scent of tea filled the cozy room.

Seated in front of the wooden tea table, Ma Yeonjeok continued speaking.

"You did well to annihilate the rabble of the Ten Perfection Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance. However, we cannot allow a gap in strength. Radiant Demon Squad should maintain the lineage of Radiant Demon Arts, but it must be restructured."

"The Iron Tribe's craftsmen said they would create an artificial arm. A prosthetic that reacts to internal energy."

Jung Yeonshin responded quietly. For the first time, Ma Yeonjeok's brow furrowed.

Unable to scold his grandson, he turned to Ma Jin and barked.

"You lost your left hand. The energy meridians from the lung channel, which ran from your hand through your entire body, are completely severed. It will severely impact the circulation of your internal energy. How long will it take to recover your strength before you lost your arm? The situation in the Central Plains is unstable. Instead of remaining a leader, you should focus on rehabilitation."

"..."

Ma Jin did not argue.

He simply closed his eyes with a heavy expression. Ma Yeonjeok's face was equally grim.

For a while, the room fell silent. The aroma of tea felt unusually loud in the stillness.

Slowly.

Jung Yeonshin reached into his robe.

He pulled out a small, old book. The texture of the paper looked ancient.

Jung Clan's Dynamic Arts.

The handwriting, messy as if written by a child, spelled out the title.

The small book gently nudged aside the three teacups on the table.

"This may be useful for both Uncle and Grandfather." 

Jung Yeonshin said.

"It's a martial art that strengthens the body. I planned to offer it as a contribution anyway, so I don't mind if you review it first."

"...!"

Both Ma Yeonjeok and Ma Jin immediately realized the truth.

Their years of experience in Jianghu told them it wasn't something given lightly. It was the opposite.

Ma Jin slowly spoke.

"Isn't this the foundation of your martial art?"

"Yes. I'm confident in its effectiveness."

At his nephew's answer, Ma Jin paused.

Ma Yeonjeok's eyes widened as Ma Jin, with great effort, continued.

"It's remarkable. Along with your martial skill and achievements… you're worthy of the black rank. Even without further accomplishments."

"Review the manual before discussing it further. I'll take my leave. The principles of the technique resemble breathing patterns."

His words, though stiff, carried a hint of embarrassment. The boy abruptly stood up, opened the door, and left.

Ma Jin, watching him quietly, opened the first page of the manual with one hand.

Ma Yeonjeok had already moved close, his shoulder pressing against Ma Jin's.

The two of them read through the opening passage of the Jung Clan's Dynamic Arts.

[Those who sleep are dead. They forget life. If the internal energy accumulated through breathing falls into dormancy, the internal strength also withers. I cannot understand this. Stagnation is death. Why would one stop circulating energy? The internal strength within the body's meridians must move ceaselessly. It must form an infinite cycle, flowing from the Dantian to the Liver Meridian and back again. Then, the internal energy becomes like a mother. Even if I cannot see her or feel her while sleeping, she will wrap me warmly. There is no need to seek comfort outside. If one gently caresses the Dantian's Sea of energy with the will of a mother, the internal energy flowing through the body will return to the Life Gate point on the back. During this process, it strengthens bones and muscles, massages acupoints, and continuously moves—thus, it is called Dynamic Art. Such is the mindset required to harness the energy. Even if I resent it, I am still a Jung. Though I have never seen her, my mother existed. She must be watching from the heavens. Since she chose the Jung family, this must be called the Jung Clan's Dynamic Arts.]

"..."

A heavy silence swept through the room, drowning out even the scent of tea.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.