CHAPTER 158

The thud echoed ominously.

The body of the regional magistrate collapsed silently, bearing the sword wound that had sent her to death in a single strike.

Perhaps it was because her intentions in life had been hypocritical.

The sight of her dark blue official robe, miserably sprawled out and turning black as it soaked in blood, felt strangely natural.

To the commoners, it certainly appeared that way.

"Great hero, thank you...!"

"A member of the Mount Hua Sect in the Desolate Fortress? We are truly enlightened."

These were the ones freed by Heon Wonchang's swift actions. Each of them bowed their heads or offered deep salutations.

Amid the atmosphere, waves of intense praise followed. Many voiced their gratitude.

Yet, it was difficult to accept such thanks joyfully. The faces of those who had lost their wealth and families were marred by sorrow.

It was a reflection of the current world.

"Let's go."

The boy in the black long robe spoke. After hesitating for a moment, Yoo Hyun quietly approached his side.

"We'll head to the Murim Alliance together. It's not like we won't find it, but it's pretty chaotic there right now."

"Alright."

Responding briefly, Jung Yeonshin took the lead of the group, accompanied by the commoners who had seemingly been used as tools to suppress the swordsmen.

Heon Wonchang occasionally cracked jokes as he guided them.

He quipped that the presence of the Mount Hua Sect in the Desolate Fortress would prevent unruly martial artists from running rampant, and even promised to give his treasured hero band to any child who refrained from crying.

Several boats were docked at Zhongyang Port, one of which was remarkably large—capable of carrying fifty people.

Jung Yeonshin's group and the commoners boarded the boat all at once.

Instead of the weakened villagers who couldn't row, Flame Dragon and Heon Wonchang manned the oars.

Standing beside Flame Dragon, Jung Yeonshin urged him to row faster.

"You're too slow. Surely you're not thinking of slacking off here?"

"I'm heading straight for blue rank as soon as I return. It's utterly depressing."

When they stepped foot back into the village they had visited earlier, the disciples of the Dianqing Sect greeted them with ghostly expressions.

"The boy is gone."

It was Little Sword Queen Chui So-ok who spoke.

She referred to the village boy who had informed Yoo Hyun and Jung Yeonshin's group of the village's plight.

Ultimately, he had led martial artists into a tiger's den, without uttering a word about the magistrate's soldiers or hostages.

It was an act of offering prey.

Martial artists who practiced martial arts often possessed more than commoners.

In this chaotic world, "Green Forest Bandits" referred to martial artists who robbed others encountered along remote mountain paths.

They were unstoppable bandits—an inevitability of these troubled times.

The Zhongyang leader, however, had suffered defeat at the hands of the Radiant Demon Squad leader.

That village boy was also a reflection of this chaotic world. Yet, the fact that he had vanished without a trace, evading the eyes of the skilled Dianqing Sect disciples, was another matter entirely.

"He must have been a martial artist, specialized in concealing his aura, and blessed with exceptional talent."

Jung Yeonshin dismissed the matter briefly, gazing toward the mountain range stretching toward Hanzhong.

Rather than the village boy, his thoughts lingered on those he had slain this time.

Not all were martial artists.

Some were soldiers and officials who had aided in plundering the commoners.

The magistrate herself had willingly accepted death and even handed over a letter for the Murim Alliance gathering.

It was his first kill of a different kind—like when he had killed a martial artist from the Tyrant Sword Tribe at the Jung Manor.

From the moment he buried the bodies of the enemies, including the regional magistrate, until now, Jung Yeonshin had pushed aside any lingering guilt.

It was familiar. From the moment he sought the fruit of the World Tree, this had always been his path as a martial artist.

'I am the Radiant Demon Squad's leader.'

The boy closed and reopened his eyes, his sharp blue gaze regaining composure.

"Nameless disciple, bring me brush and paper."

Flame Dragon twisted his lips as he spread out the scholar's tools. Jung Yeonshin began to write a letter on the spot.

It was a letter to the Eastern Depot.

"The flow of the sword lingers in your handwriting. Truly the script of a martial artist."

Watching the swift brushstrokes, Flame Dragon let out a small exclamation.

"I could tell when you talked about the refined martial veins and all that. You must've copied plenty of martial manuals in your youth. Ah, you're still young."

"Take care of it."

Jung Yeonshin ignored Flame Dragon's remarks and instead addressed the Baiyan.

Tilting its head once, the white bird soared from the boy's hand, already carrying the densely written letter tied to its leg.

"Let's go."

Jung Yeonshin spoke as he watched the bird disappear.

The villagers, who had been gazing at the spirit beast in awe, quickly lowered their heads.

At the same time, cries erupted.

"Great hero, please give us a chance to repay you!"

"Even a meal... No..."

A woman in a ragged skirt trailed off. There was no way she could serve a proper meal.

The noble boy in black had already distributed food and supplies seized from Zhongyang, but the desolate village didn't even have a proper stove.

Reconstruction had to come first.

"I'll stop by when we return. If this village stands again, I'll accept a meal seasoned with your hard work as a reward."

Jung Yeonshin spoke kindly. The villagers, including the woman, held his hand one by one, tears brimming in their eyes.

It was a fleeting moment of warmth in troubled times. Heon Wonchang also found himself surrounded by villagers, taking quite some time to break free.

"When you join the Alliance, you'll have to meet the leader first."

Little Sword Queen Chui So-ok said, giving Jung Yeonshin a peculiar look.

The boy silently nodded and mounted his horse. Flame Dragon, Heon Wonchang, and Namgoong Hwashin took positions at his sides and rear.

Behind them, the villagers clasped their hands or bowed deeply, offering prayers with Taoist and Buddhist gestures.

They treated him not as a person, but as a divine figure.

The boy felt a strange sensation. He had simply acted as a martial artist of the Desolate Fortress would.

Yet, it was the first time he had directly heard the commoners' praise.

He had always been too focused on missions and swift movements.

It was fortunate that the fruit of the World Tree was in the Desolate Fortress. He could experience this warmth while achieving merit.

Jung Yeonshin waved once toward the village before turning his horse.

'The Murim Alliance Leader is said to be a Sword Star.'

The boy pondered. Now, it was time to fulfill his original mission.

'A man called a star... How skilled must his swordsmanship be?'

He recalled his Radiance Sword Style, rooted in the cliffs of Mount Zhongnan.

Since many had witnessed his duels with the Namgoong Clan, his sword techniques were well-known.

It was necessary to strengthen them without drawing attention.

The martial world was full of mysteries. Jung Yeonshin didn't overestimate his odds of winning the Opening Tournament.

Even if he did win, he had to avoid disgrace in the leader's demonstration match as the Desolate Fortress' representative.

'The Great Executor was helpful. I'll test every inspiration against my swordsmanship—from now until the tournament ends.'

* * *

The Murim Alliance Headquarters in Hanzhong exuded peak grandeur.

The heat that had clung to summer leaves had dissolved into a crisp, clear atmosphere.

It matched the majesty of the towering halls and the energy of countless people.

"Master Zhuge, did you return those items to the Namgoong Clan?"

"Yes, they were borrowed items to begin with. We've retrieved all we needed."

"Were the traces properly visible?"

"In South Zhili, there's Mount Mao, isn't there? It seems the Taoist sorcerers of the Mao Mountain Sect, who were immediately summoned by the Namgoong family at the time, played their role well. Thanks to their spells, none of the corpses decayed, so examining the sword wounds on their bodies was a simple matter."

"Hmm..."

"The Divine Sword Squad leader's swordsmanship is truly a supreme and unparalleled technique. Even the cut surfaces entered the realm of secret arts. Without the family's inherited techniques, it would have been difficult to analyze. Also, the Radiant Demon Squad's leader's techniques... Upon analysis, they turned out to be far from ordinary secret skills. No wonder he rose to the seat of Desolate Fortress' squad leader at such a young age."

"…I heard the Namgoong elder was the only direct descendant who did not step into the duel. It must have been an act driven by overwhelming resentment. Even their willingness to transport the bodies of their son and grandson without resistance shows that."

"Namgoong has already been consumed by its branch families, hasn't it? It was merely their final struggle."

Middle-aged men, swords hanging from their waists, walked with confidence.

The roads paved with smooth stone, palace-like halls stretching out to the east, west, south, and north, and the golden sand glittering at the intersections of the paths...

There was even a temple built to invite Shaolin monks, though it now belonged to young martial artists.

"To be honest, this is the first time I've heard of the 'Dull Sword' since coming to the Alliance. It's a concept that doesn't exist in our region. If they mean to say 'striking later yet controlling first', isn't it just superficial elegance?"

"I agree. If you have the ability to overpower your opponent even with a delayed strike, why wait for their attack? It assumes you're already a vastly superior master. If it's a sword that cannot be defended against even when seen, it's already on another level. It can't be compared as equals."

Men and women, radiating brilliance, casually sat around, discussing martial arts.

They had unsheathed their glistening weapons, laying them out on the ground.

Clad in colorful martial robes woven with silk, they looked impeccable.

Their noble status kept them perpetually clean, and their mastery of true martial arts refined their skin, making it distinctly smooth.

Regardless of gender, they appeared pristine and noble.

"There are those who speak of martial arts that don't exist. Take the Thousand-Pound Hammer, for instance. How can a human body create weight that doesn't exist?"

"That's likely a matter of interpretation. In Guangxi's martial world, it refers to a secret technique for properly grounding one's lower body. It integrates stance, steps, and inner energy manipulation into one method. I've heard that Wudang's Taichi also focuses on solidifying one's balance while adjusting the opponent's center of gravity. Am I wrong?"

The men and women engaging in conversation were all outstanding in appearance. They seemed completely detached from the famine outside.

The Murim Alliance Gathering was an unprecedented exchange—a feast for the most esteemed martial artists.

The world was vast, and it was exceedingly rare for martial artists from prestigious families across the Jianghu to gather in one place.

They had been too busy acting like royalty in their vast homelands.

Until now.

Here, they met peers of equal standing. How could they not be excited?

It was at that moment.

"Isn't it about time we got moving? The elders gave us orders."

Murong Mingjun spoke. A prodigy of the Northern Murong family, he was renowned for his refined swordsmanship north of the Yangtze River.

He was also the young master of the Murong family.

"There's news that the Savage Horde entered Hanzhong about an hour ago. Let's move out now."

"The order was given to me."

A young man with a scholarly demeanor stood up. His green robe suited him perfectly, his elegant appearance akin to bringing spring into the autumn air.

Several of the women, who had been discussing martial arts, turned their gazes toward him.

He was Zhuge Hyeon, the Fan Dragon.

"The elders instructed me to observe the Radiant Demon Squad's leader's swordsmanship. I didn't expect to become a sacrificial pawn, though."

Zhuge Hyeon muttered.

A boy with piercing eyes smiled faintly.

"Well, if a mid-tier master were to face the Radiant Demon Squad's leader and lose, the Alliance's reputation would plummet... But most of all, it's because Zhuge's techniques are exceptional. Who knows? You might even put up a fight."

"We'll see."

Zhuge Hyeon let out a bitter smile.

"Regardless of age, the opponent is a squad leader of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress. Judging by the rumors, there's no way such a prestigious faction would appoint an amateur as its squad leader. Either way, I'll lose, so make sure you arrive a moment later. I'd rather not show you my disgrace."

He spoke while stepping onto the balcony of the temple's second floor.

Step.

With a single stride, the wind surged. He vanished like a gust, his form soaring into the distance.

It was an awe-inspiring movement technique. Men and women alike let out brief exclamations.

"He's erased the boundary between footwork and lightness skills. Truly the Fan Dragon. No matter how you look at it, he doesn't seem like someone who'll fall easily..."

"He's been steeling himself ever since he admitted defeat to the King's Blade. His closed-door training must have paid off."

Some looked on expressionlessly, but Murong Mingjun quietly grumbled.

'A bothersome guy.'

He knew Zhuge Hyeon's direct ties to the Alliance's elders were solid. He, too, needed to earn his father's trust.

Despite their different thoughts, they were part of a righteous coalition.

The young martial artists decided to follow Zhuge Hyeon's request, respecting their opponent as martial artists of the orthodox path.

They spent the next moment continuing their discussions.

"Where is Lady Ye?"

"I don't know. She doesn't seem to be participating today."

"It looks like Brother Ak has fallen lovesick. Don't be too obvious."

"Don't act like I'm the only one!"

Stories about the most famous woman in Hanzhong, laments about scheming elders, ambitions of dominating the martial world, budding romances, and finally, topics returning to martial arts...

For passionate martial artists, even a moment felt short. They stood up in unison.

"I saw a portrait of the Radiant Demon Squad's leader. Do you think he's as handsome as they say?"

"Appearance aside, I'm more curious about his martial skills. How strong must he be for the Alliance elders to mobilize even their shadow network to track him?"

"There were strange rumors, involving the young master of the Hwangbo clan and Namgoong Hwashin..."

Their steps, befitting the Alliance's rising stars, were swift. They reached the main hall in no time.

'Hmm?'

Murong Mingjun sensed something unusual. A massive crowd blocked the view ahead.

Even the vast entrance of the Alliance Hall, ten times wider than a fortress gate, was packed.

Not only Alliance members but also merchants and escorts from Hanzhong had gathered.

"What's this...?"

"Is that... a person?!"

The murmurs were faint compared to the crowd, indicating their complete focus.

Murong Mingjun leaped onto the wall for a better view.

'...!'

Standing atop Zhuge Hyeon's fan was a boy exuding overwhelming composure—a figure of absolute mastery.

It was an unbelievable sight.

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