CHAPTER 129

"Face me using only techniques, without internal energy. I will show you that the profundity of our martial arts is not inferior to Desolate Fortress."

When So Jin-rang challenged Jung Yeonshin to a duel, Jung Yeonshin readily accepted.

It was a decision made with awareness of the Malevolent Sword, Gal Sa-ryang.

A supreme master capable of standing against the black-robed warriors of Desolate Fortress.

The Ten Perfection Sect' Primordial Art of Ten Thousand Sects was said to lack the distinct traits of unorthodox martial arts.

Could it be because victory was uncertain at the threshold of the Radiant Wheel Technique?

It was like a sharp prick, as if both the upper dantian and the wheel of light gave simultaneous warnings.

Not So Jin-rang, but that man—he needed to be dealt with.

And then—

"That confidence. Were you born with qualities beyond human reach? I bet you never envied the bloodlines of noble families."

Step.

So Jin-rang took a step forward. His expression seemed indifferent, but the intent emanating from his entire body was different.

The composed and sharpened atmosphere approached like the edge of a blade, his gleaming eyes reflecting the pinnacle of skill.

"I can see why you're wearing black at your age. No martial art would be beyond your grasp."

He continued speaking as he took deliberate steps forward.

Since they had agreed not to use internal energy, he refrained from executing a forceful leap using his cultivation.

Jung Yeonshin remained still, waiting for him. He paid no attention to the words being spoken.

The Crescent Moon Sword, So Jin-rang, approached without hesitation.

"Desolate Fortress raised you as a weapon. How many elixirs have you consumed, how many diverse secret techniques have you mastered? You've probably studied all seventeen martial arts of the Divine Sword Squad."

"..."

Yeonshin's gaze swept over his opponent's lower body. The way he pressed down on the ground with each step hinted at a habit of concentrating strength in the life gate acupoint beneath his feet.

Even the act of drawing his sword carried weight.

Srrrng.

The sound of the blade being drawn seemed to carry the weight of years.

With a crescent moon blade strapped to his back, So Jin-rang raised the sword he had drawn and smirked.

"I may lose to you in this exchange of techniques. However, the accumulated strength of a noble family will plant fear in your heart. That will suffice—because you will one day face a great enemy who will clash fiercely with our sect."

Such audacious words, Yeonshin thought.

The young man quietly raised his sword.

"The bloodlines of noble families…" 

Jung Yeonshin spoke slowly, stepping forward.

"Talk too much."

The hilt of the Desolate Sword clenched tightly in his grip.

The strength in his hands felt solid even to himself—muscles honed through the Jung Clan Movement Arts.

Even without internal energy, he embodied the unity of sword and body—Body-Sword Unification.

The sword and his hand were as one.

Thud!

A single light step was enough. The ground firmly supported his foot.

Even without internal energy, the step resonated heavily within his body.

With the Desolate Sword, he twisted his waist in a flash.

At the same time, he swung the blade horizontally. It was a spinning slash that advanced forward.

Shhhkk!

The air tore apart with a sharp sound. The strength of the step spiraled upward and became embedded in the strike.

Clang!

He created a shockwave without internal energy—an attack technique he hadn't used in a while.

He struck down So Jin-rang's descending blade from above and advanced. Jin-rang's eyes widened.

Huff—

He was pushed back by the Desolate Sword. The force that flowed through Jin-rang's hands and into the blade was palpable.

Yet, he did not resist. Instead, he bent his arms and stepped back half a step.

A diagonal retreat, narrowly avoiding the blade that came within reach of his nose.

As his robe fluttered slightly, the boy and Jin-rang brushed shoulders.

'A mastery of flowing defense. Such precise redirection without internal energy.'

Jung Yeonshin thought. This man, too, was a swordsman unaffected by thunder bombs.

He sensed something during the clash—the man had trained in swordsmanship properly. Unlike the boy, Jin-rang's skill was the result of long, deliberate effort.

Flutter!

Their blades clashed again, spinning like interlocking gears.

The Desolate Sword and an unnamed blade of the Ten Perfection Sect emitted a sharp, resonant sound.

Vibrations traveled up their swords. Both sides felt it.

'This is...'

Yeonshin's eyes narrowed.

It was Jin-rang's defensive swordwork. He blocked with the flat of the blade instead of the edge.

The Desolate Sword that came crashing down stopped against Jin-rang's shoulder. He had used his blade as a shield.

Crescent Moon Sword.

Three words representing spear, axe, and sword. A title embodying weaponry.

The successor of the Ten Perfection Sect. A sect said to weave eighteen martial arts into divine techniques through cultivation.

Despite the absence of internal energy, his adaptability and skill justified challenging Jung Yeonshin without shame.

"How easy has your life been?"

So Jin-rang whispered. He held firm against the Desolate Sword pressing down on his shoulder with the flat of his blade.

His trembling legs stood tall, exuding the spirit of an unorthodox swordsman.

"Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin."

"..."

"A disciple acknowledged by the Tang Clan's leader—a so-called martial prodigy of the younger generation. Such martial arts are laughable and shallow. Like the heroes of delusional tales, you attain skills easily and discard them just as easily. Do you think you'll keep rising forever? You'll fail to open the ultimate realm and stop at its threshold. Men like you, exceptional in one aspect, can never unify their essence, energy, and spirit."

His words dripped with venom.

His middle dantian throbbed near his heart. It was a sneer laced with hostility.

So Jin-rang stared into the boy's calm eyes, their swords still locked.

No effect.

Jin-rang realized it was futile—empty words.

They were closer to curses uttered in fights to the death.

He didn't mind. Expressing his pent-up emotions was enough.

The boy before him had slain the Sword-Thirst Demon.

Having deflected the strikes of such a master was achievement enough.

Even if Jung Yeonshin killed him out of anger, Jin-rang felt he had said what needed to be said.

If he could press down with words, that was enough.

"When a blade, honed over decades, gains spirit, it transforms into a divine art. That's the foundation of all traditional techniques. What I spoke of as cultivated strength. You... you don't understand the value of time. You never will."

He spat provocative words at a master he couldn't handle.

Oddly satisfied, Jin-rang briefly closed his eyes before opening them again.

He had vented his inferiority complex. Now, whether the boy killed him or not, it no longer mattered.

"..."

Their eyes met. Jin-rang froze in shock—no less than when the Sword Fist Demon was slain.

For the first time, he saw a change in the boy's perpetually calm eyes.

There was a flicker in them.

Was it residual internal energy trembling within his eye veins?

A colorless gleam.

A fragment of madness hidden beneath a mask of composure.

Anxiety, fear, hatred, rage—expressions of someone cornered by an unstoppable force.

The sword trembled on its own, reflecting the light in his eyes.

'Did I really sense that?'

Jin-rang wondered.

He felt a sudden curiosity but shook his head inwardly.

This boy, clad in black, was already a master. He must have imagined it.

And then—

"...!"

The Desolate Sword, which had been pressing against So Jin-rang's blade, suddenly tilted to match it.

It moved in sync with So Jin-rang's slight, breathing-induced upper-body movements, pulsating as if it were alive.

It happened in an instant—an astonishing shift in grip.

Their blades met flat against each other. If Yeonshin swung upward, Jin-rang's head would surely be severed.

Allowing such a shift in sword stance left no room for resistance. It was a fatal position.

Changing grip mid-combat was something that simply shouldn't be done.

Redistributing strength while rotating the sword's edge dispersed power, making it impractical.

Unless it was some divine technique that perfectly synchronized with an opponent's breathing rhythm, following the flow of their internal energy.

'I'm going to die.'

So Jin-rang thought. It was already too late to respond. Without using internal energy, escape was impossible.

Reputation or survival. Standing at the crossroads, he chose.

As the minor head of the outland sect, even after his lofty words to the boy, his life came first.

The power accumulated through countless elixirs surged forth.

Before he could even think, his internal energy spread throughout his meridians, rushing through his entire body.

In that instant, his entire body brimmed with tremendous force.

Thud!

A dull impact struck his abdomen—Jung Yeonshin had kicked him. The strength concentrated in the tip of his foot was immense.

"Huff." 

Jin-rang gasped as his upper body bent slightly forward.

Even then, he didn't take his eyes off the boy's face. He saw the expression.

'This brat.'

Yeonshin's lips twitched slightly, and the faint narrowing of his brow exuded an ominous intensity.

For a master swordsman like the boy from Desolate Fortress, who rarely showed emotion, this could only mean anger.

Clang.

Jin-rang's thoughts were correct. Yeonshin simply let go of his sword.

Contrary to his initial intention, he hesitated to kill.

So many seniors from the Radiant Demon Squad had died or been injured. He had witnessed his uncle's arm being severed right before his eyes.

The mental home he had failed to protect—the Jung Family Manor—had been shattered, pillars and all.

As the mounting fear squeezed his Baihui acupoint, he had pushed it aside, burying it in the corner of his mind.

Yet this man had dared to scratch at that raw wound.

Snap!

Closing the distance, Yeonshin grabbed Jin-rang's wrist.

The hand that held the sword was effortlessly seized.

In the instant he sensed the flow of energy, Yeonshin activated the Radiant Wheel in his lower and upper left body.

His right hand carried no internal energy—instead, it carried emotion.

Repressed fear and rage toward destiny.

Thud!

His fist struck Jin-rang's abdomen. It was solid—hardened muscle.

Yeonshin's lips curled slightly.

The sensation of punching Jin-rang's bare flesh felt absurdly similar to the unmoving heavens after spending a life brimming with hardships.

Even as a defensive energy shield formed around Jin-rang's stomach, Yeonshin struck again without hesitation.

Crack!

The thin but firm sensation of internal energy armor scratched at his hand.

It didn't matter. A sadistic satisfaction coursed through him.

Gripping Jin-rang's wrist, Yeonshin kicked at his shin every time Jin-rang attempted to regain his stance.

Jin-rang could do nothing but endure the barrage.

Formidable Wall.

The second technique of the Infinite Blossom Fist Strike.

Formidable Wall. Formidable Wall. Formidable Wall—repeated endlessly.

Inspired by the overwhelming strength of demonic masters, the fist technique burst forth without internal energy.

It was enough to disrupt Jin-rang's balance and seal his sword techniques.

This too was strength gained in exchange for the 'value of time'.

Yeonshin addressed his own body inwardly—damned bastard.

"..."

The once chaotic street fell silent, as if frozen in time.

The only sounds were the muffled impacts of form- and style-less strikes pummeling the successor of the Ten Perfection Sect.

Clothes fluttered, and Jin-rang's pitiful groans lingered in the stillness.

The reputation of the Thirteen Heavens was shattering.

If internal energy was excluded, the boy's physical prowess was nearly unrivaled on the Grand Avenue.

Watching from behind, the Malevolent Sword, Gal Sa-ryang, felt it keenly.

With an innate sense that surpassed mere training, he recognized it as something extraordinary.

Ever since Yeonshin first clashed swords with Jin-rang, Gal Sa-ryang had not taken his eyes off the boy.

'I have to kill him here. If not now, then never.'

Silently, Gal Sa-ryang gathered his energy.

Envisioning his attack pattern, he grasped his blade like a flash of light.

He reversed his grip—Flying Blade Technique.

He prepared to unleash his blade immediately.

Judging by the boy's lack of mastery over Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown, he hadn't yet achieved the unity of mind and internal energy.

Instead, he wielded absurd strength through divine techniques and innate talent, flaunting the power of a grandmaster.

This made it feasible—the youngest black-robed master?

Wasn't he now demolishing the Ten Perfection Sect' successor with a single hand, not even imbuing it with internal energy?

'Honor of my sect. A sprout that will one day become a formidable enemy. If I must choose, I pick the latter.'

But Gal Sa-ryang too was distracted.

While thinking of Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown and evaluating Yeonshin, he had momentarily let his guard down.

To kill a black-robed master, no effort could be spared.

He lowered his posture slightly and focused his mind into a single point.

The boy in the black robe, mercilessly battering Jin-rang, became the sole focus of his vision.

'Still, I feel uneasy. Will this work? If I don't finish it in one strike, I'm finished. I must give it my all.'

Srrng!

The sharp intent of Gal Sa-ryang's technique sharpened further.

The Flying Blade Technique.

The sword energy gathered in his grip, drawing in the spirit of a swordsman who once dominated Sichuan's martial world.

He was just about to release the blade.

Chirrrr!

Suddenly, a storm of silver butterflies burst forth.

Without doubting the skills of the Tang Clan's leader, Yeonshin had focused only on his enemies.

The sudden flash of Full Sky Flower Rainn closed the distance in an instant.

Splat!

Blood sprayed from Gal Sa-ryang's body.

Hundreds of steel needles pierced him.

It was both dazzling and devastating.

In that moment, countless bloodied petals marked the end of the Ten Perfection Sect.