CHAPTER 155

Little Sword Queen's group traveled together, but the mission force from Desolate Fortress only numbered four.

Jung Yeonshin took the lead, with Lazy Flame Dragon, possessing a domineering martial art, riding on the right, and Heon Wonchang, acting as an advisor, guiding from the left.

Namgoong Hwashin took the rear, owing to his naturally calm temperament and stable swordsmanship.

"It feels like my eyes are opening every day. Desolate Fortress must consider looks and martial prowess as equals."

This was what Little Sword Queen's junior said upon departure. No one responded.

Even Malevolent Sword and Dance Sword averted their gazes from the eldest sister of their sect.

Relations with Jung Yeonshin's group were still awkward. They were companions in travel, not comrades.

'They said another shadow will follow us. I'm guessing it's Senior Ak.'

The Murim Alliance was a tiger's den. Even if the trio excluding Heon Wonchang possessed extraordinary martial power, the Alliance surpassed Desolate Fortress in scale.

Since it was a diplomatic mission, they couldn't mobilize a force equivalent to a military unit. Yet, the General Affairs Bureau of Desolate Fortress wouldn't simply leave a promising new squad leader unattended.

Support had been promised, following at a distance.

Radiant Demon Squad was likely excluded. Few seniors were in good condition.

For now, Chung Myung, who had mostly recovered, was assigned as Radiant Demon Squad's vice-leader. The conversation before their departure was still fresh in Jung Yeonshin's ears.

—Feels like just yesterday I lent you my long robe. Anyway, the Radiant Demon Squad needs some rest. Even if this mission only sends a small team as envoys, you'll probably need to pull members from other units when you return.

It had been a voice tinged with laughter.

A private conversation, yet Jung Yeonshin took his senior's advice to heart.

—The Lightning Genius' lineage has spread across all the military units. Your reputation is good enough now, but next comes fame. How much your name echoes through the martial world matters a lot. What's left for swordsmen besides martial arts and reputation? The name 'Lightning Genius' must grow bigger for the other squad leaders to accept you.

Jung Yeonshin's old friend, a noble swordsman, had always been both carefree and slightly cynical.

His words spared no sentiment.

—You're up against men who've been wielding swords in the shadows for decades, maybe even centuries. Just look at the Obeying Heaven Squad leader. They call him 'The Monster of Mailing River's Grand Canyon'. These people wielded black-level martial arts and built reputations over long years. Their names carry trust and time.

The Obeying Heaven Squad leader was a man of clear boundaries between public and private matters.

He fully acknowledged Jung Yeonshin's achievements and martial prowess but remained firm about Namgoong Hwashin's transfer.

That was likely why Chung Myung had brought up the topic of reputation.

—Have you seen anyone in the martial world who doesn't recognize our former squad leader? Desolate Fortress' leaders have overwhelming standing. Their involvement in incidents and accumulated achievements aren't just one or two.

It was a description of the world Jung Yeonshin had to live in.

—Normally, it'd be hard to catch up, but this mission might narrow the gap significantly. Depends on how you handle it.

The Murim Alliance's Opening Tournament was a huge opportunity.

'Since all the sects from the orthodox faction gather under the alliance, one success will have double the effect…'

Saaaa—

Suddenly, an autumn breeze swept across his face.

His thoughts, buried in the clear autumn wind, didn't continue further. Jung Yeonshin grasped the reins and spurred his horse.

The group pressed on tirelessly.

Although there were relay stations in Hanzhong, their destination, no station roads existed between Yangyang, where Desolate Fortress stood, and Hanzhong.

The paths beneath the horses' hooves did not run straight.

Three days, four days, five days… Detours were inevitable.

They passed through several ruined villages.

"This place is doomed, too."

"So many people need help…"

"White-robed senior, if you keep handing out silver coins, we won't have enough funds left. Shaking off the clingers is also troublesome."

It was undoubtedly an age of chaos.

In a world where famine already fueled plunder, food was scarce.

It wasn't something Jung Yeonshin had deeply felt growing up. Regardless of their family's customs, the Jung clan was a wealthy landowning household.

Even after entering Desolate Fortress, he never worried about food. The famine hadn't yet affected the most powerful sect under heaven.

For now, money could still buy food—though at a high price.

Furthermore, the places where Desolate Fortress' warriors traveled were few—respectable inns, government offices, or entirely desolate fields and forests.

It was the same for Jung Yeonshin. Lodging varied between camping outdoors, luxury inns, branch offices of Desolate Fortress, and Sichuan's Tang Clan.

The places he had passed before reaching the black-level rank had not yet shown the famine's effects prominently. Sichuan, isolated in a basin, was one of the most fertile lands in the world.

Even its capital had been crowded with spectators watching Jung Yeonshin's battles.

But the western regions, visited after a long time, seemed different.

Rumors spoke of rampant bandits and martial sects acting like warlords. The sights from Jung Yeonshin's horse confirmed it.

Those without a single copper coin or the means to sustain themselves through hunting resorted to looting.

The famine's reach had spread throughout the world—visibly so.

'It's especially bad here.'

Jung Yeonshin abruptly pulled on the reins, bringing his horse to a halt. The rest of the group followed their young leader, lining up behind him.

The western edge of Unyangbu, Huguang Province.

Thick smoke rose from a small village by a lake. Cries could faintly be heard.

It was more devastated than any place they had passed. And Hanzhong, where the Murim Alliance resided, was just around the corner.

A suffocating silence filled the air—traces of a raid.

"..."

Clip-clop.

Jung Yeonshin urged his horse forward again, slowly heading toward the village entrance.

"What was the Wudang Sect doing? They should be the closest orthodox faction."

The Little Sword Queen remarked. Heon Wonchang responded immediately.

"Talking about security and blaming martial sects is the issue. What about the government?"

His tone suggested dissatisfaction with both sides.

Now that he thought about it, Heon Wonchang had always harbored subtle disdain for major sects.

Jung Yeonshin hoped to someday hear this old friend's life story—before he died.

The sound of hooves echoed briefly until they neared the shattered wooden fences.

No one spoke. Lazy Flame Dragon pointed at a mark.

"That's the trace of a martial art. Look at the indentation there. They were attacked by martial artists."

His tone was slightly playful, as if trying to lighten the mood.

Having roamed extensively as the spoiled heir of the Hwangbo family, he seemed familiar with such sights.

Jung Yeonshin remained silent.

Bandits operating so close to the Murim Alliance and Wudang Sect required more than ordinary martial skill or courage.

As they crossed the broken fence, a boy ran toward them. He was about Jung Yeonshin's age.

Fleeing from the half-destroyed village, his ragged appearance didn't hide his determined gaze.

"Great warriors! Are you from Desolate Fortress?!"

At that moment, Jung Yeonshin felt a faint sense of satisfaction. The rough 'Desolate' character embroidered on his shoulder seemed to be doing its job.

Now, even from the front, anyone could recognize him.

Unless he had to change into civilian clothes, Heon Wonchang wouldn't need to intervene anymore.

Hearing a faint clicking of the tongue from behind, he felt a slight surge of triumph. This outfit was his.

"What happened here?"

Snapping out of his brief thoughts, Jung Yeonshin asked carefully.

It was a stark contrast to his demeanor when dealing with martial artists.

Dianqing Sect's disciples and Lazy Flame Dragon audibly drew in breaths, seemingly surprised.

"…Unique in both martial arts and temperament."

Lazy Flame Dragon murmured playfully.

"If this young dragon were born a commoner, he'd have been protected by the young squad leader. How tragic—living a short life and having his family wiped out."

Though somewhat self-mocking, his words carried a poetic charm.

Jung Yeonshin ignored it, looking down at the boy.

The village boy stared back at the black-clad youth on horseback, his face filled with anger and sorrow.

There was no need to ask further. He had lost his home and family.

"Tell me about your enemy."

Jung Yeonshin spoke.

With Hanzhong almost within reach and some time to spare, it seemed only right to hear the plea of the common people as a squad leader of Desolate Fortress.

This village was clearly attacked by warriors of the Jianghu. It was not something to be ignored.

* * *

The eldest disciple of the Mount Hua Sect thought of a curse he had once heard. It was a phrase used by the wandering performers of the Namsadang Troupe of Haedong.

'Get screwed.'

After some deliberation, Mount Hua's Hidden Dragon, Yoo Hyun, reached a conclusion. The phrase, 'Get screwed', was meant to convey the idea of being thwarted or sabotaged.

Taken literally, he had been utterly, royally screwed.

He had arrived early at the main headquarters of the Murim Alliance gathering.

Staying in his assigned quarters had become excruciatingly dull.

None of the young martial artists of his generation, who were gathered here in the Murim Alliance, seemed worth his attention.

The older martial artists, on the other hand, were all captivated by a blind beauty known as "Lady Ye".

As if they had fallen under the spell of a nine-tailed fox described in the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

'The bastards from the noble families are disgusting, and the practitioners from the Nine Great Sects are too sluggish to have even arrived yet.'

He contemplated breaking away.

Exploring the vast surroundings with his Boshin Technique sounded like a far better use of his time.

Under the pretense of training in the Mount Hua Sect's secret technique, Hidden Fragrance Drift, he took several of his older martial siblings for a stroll. That's how they ended up on the border of Shaanxi.

That was when they saw the village—half in ruins.

The plea of a young boy, left all alone in the desolate village, was the start of it all. They listened to his tear-soaked account.

It was clear the perpetrators were martial artists. This couldn't be ignored.

The village boy's desperate plea was the beginning. They listened to his tear-soaked testimony.

He said the village had been plundered by a sect based on an island in the lake.

"They weren't followers of Primeval Celestial or Buddha. They built a manor on the island and came periodically to loot us. Whenever the pigs or calves, or crops, were ready to harvest, they'd come and take everything. If we resisted, they'd beat us to death…"

"What?"

The disciples of Mount Hua Sect, filled with righteous indignation, bristled with fury.

"Recently, they took the last of our food. Said they needed to entertain martial artists clad in iron armor…"

"How do you know they were martial artists? They could have been soldiers."

One of Yoo Hyun's juniors asked. The village boy replied immediately.

"They called themselves the 'heroes of the Profound Martial Alliance.' Isn't the Profound Martial Alliance part of the Thirteen Heavens?"

"...They're a major sect based in Henan, but what are they doing here at the edge of Huguang?"

From that moment, the disciples of Mount Hua began discussing among themselves.

"The distance from one end to the other isn't that far."

"Even so, it's suspicious. What nerve do they have to act like this with the Murim Alliance's inaugural ceremony nearby?"

Despite their misgivings, Yoo Hyun's group crossed to the island in the lake. The village's tragedy had been too horrific to ignore.

Martial heroes were meant to avenge the wronged. As disciples of a Nine Great Sect, they couldn't turn a blind eye.

The sudden emergence of the Profound Martial Alliance coinciding with the Murim Alliance's formation was also concerning.

It seemed to foreshadow something ominous. They needed to uncover clues.

'We were too overconfident in our strength.'

Yoo Hyun reflected bitterly. His hands were tied behind his back.

They were in the training grounds of a well-built manor. Yoo Hyun and his three juniors sat back-to-back, surrounded by sneering faces—at least twenty of them.

Among them, a woman in navy official robes and a man wielding a massive blade stood out.

A married couple.

'A strong martial sect partnering with the regional magistrate, taking hostages—how do we even win against this? When power and martial strength rot together…'

He hadn't realized the magistrate of Unyangbu was involved. The situation had become dire.

They weren't opponents to be taken lightly, yet here they were, completely captured. The enemies had threatened the villagers as hostages.

"This is quite the dilemma."

The woman in the official hat finally spoke—the most powerful figure in Unyangbu.

She was the regional magistrate.

From the moment someone begins martial training, they start shedding physical limitations, including gender differences.

It wasn't uncommon for female masters of unorthodox sects to slaughter a hundred men with ease. The innate potential of internal energy made no distinction between men and women.

The majority of the Thirteen Heavens' leaders were women, and the head of Emei Sect, one of the Nine Great Sects, was a Buddhist nun revered across the world.

In an era where noble clans were revered as descendants of immortals, the practices of the Song Dynasty had crumbled. Noblewomen had entered officialdom.

Since the founding of the Ming Dynasty, the Dowager Empress, a noblewoman, had overturned social norms by directly influencing imperial politics.

Women were allowed to take civil service exams.

The prominence of noble clans and martial arts caused drastic societal change.

Countless noblewomen passed regional exams, became scholars, and distinguished themselves in imperial exams.

The current Grand Scholar of the Hanlin Academy was the sister of the head of the Zhuge clan.

A female magistrate was no longer remarkable—what mattered was that this couple was both corrupt: one a rogue martial artist, the other a greedy official.

"My wife is right. Truly a dilemma. If we hand them over to Profound Martial Alliance's masters, word of us capturing Mount Hua disciples might spread… But we can't just let them go either."

The man next to her spoke—the owner of the island and the leader of Zhongyang Sect.

He was also the beast who led the plundering raids.

"Killing them and covering it up seems best. Even if there's an investigation, my wife can deflect it. Who would dare question a magistrate's word?"

"You've been repeating the same thing for days."

Yoo Hyun replied nonchalantly. His exceptional talent often made him view matters lightly.

"Isn't it obvious that neither side wants to draw first blood? Honestly, if your wife weren't a high-ranking official, do you think you'd still be alive in my hands? If she were just a county magistrate, your head would already smell like plum blossoms. Ever heard of 'Sword Fragrance'?"

"This brat doesn't know his place…!"

"Silence, Mount Hua disciple. We spared your life because of our acquaintance, but your insolence is excessive."

The magistrate stopped her furious husband. Yoo Hyun smirked and bowed slightly, openly mocking the corrupt officials.

It was the most defiance he could muster at the moment.

But to the magistrate, who had navigated treacherous political waters, his resistance barely registered.

"In times of famine, status matters little. But order, through law and sword, is what allows commoners to live properly. I understand your chivalry, but the judgment of those who govern must be broader. Don't impose your shallow standards."

She spoke, looking down on the common folk completely.

Yoo Hyun gave no reply.

Another day passed like that.

His internal energy had begun to dissipate under poison, and hunger gnawed at his stomach.

Even the plum blossom emblem on his Mount Hua uniform seemed to shrink, reflecting his pitiful state.

Then, it happened.

Step.

A pair of black leather shoes entered his downcast view.

"You've picked up bad habits. Lazy Flame Dragon even hit you for this."

A boy's voice rang out.

"…?"

"You've made a habit of wandering off without your elders. That's how you end up dying in foreign lands."

His tone was calm and measured.

"…!"

Yoo Hyun snapped his head up.

What he saw was a figure he couldn't believe had appeared at this moment.

A boy with a sword at his waist.

The sunlight blazed behind him, forming a halo around the black cloak draped loosely over his shoulders.

On his shoulder, the character for 'Desolate' glimmered in golden embroidery.

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