CHAPTER 159
Jung Yeonshin and his companions, having saved the commoners, entered Hanzhong without delay.
The guards' eyes widened at the sight of their robes adorned with the character for 'Desolate' and their Desolate Badges.
Martial artists of the Desolate Fortress were supposed to roam the martial world freely.
Naturally, they couldn't be tied to a specific residence by identification tokens, nor could they live as mere commoners like other martial artists.
The implicit support of the nation and the pretext of maintaining public order sustained the Desolate Fortress.
The golden tree engraving on the Desolate Badge doubled as proof of identity.
However, inspections often caused delays since it was such a rare item in all the martial world.
"We pay respects to the esteemed warriors of the Desolate Fortress."
Hanzhong was different. Perhaps because it was such a large city, they were allowed to pass immediately upon seeing the 'Desolate' character and the Desolate Badge.
Most of the guards' eyes lingered on Jung Yeonshin—not out of caution but reverence.
They seemed to recognize the authority signified by his attire.
"To have become the master of the Desolate Fortress at such a young age, you must possess talents beyond what ordinary people like us can imagine. However, Hanzhong has long been a stronghold of the Murim Alliance.
"The Zhuge Family has been working behind the scenes for decades, and this time they used the Desolate Fortress as justification to convene the meeting. Please be particularly careful."
A gatekeeper offered his advice. He was clearly well-informed.
Jung Yeonshin thought back to his first mission in Zhenping County, Shaanxi.
'The magistrate underestimated the Desolate Fortress. But the guards in Hanzhong are different.'
He returned the courtesy with a fist salute and passed through the city gates.
Immediately, the lively and noisy atmosphere brushed against his skin.
"Well-crafted porcelain!"
"Potatoes imported from the Western Regions!"
"Taste the world's finest delicacies at Dayun Inn!"
On both sides of the wide road stretched rows of stalls, forming a long marketplace. It was immensely bustling.
Even at a glance, hundreds of commoners and martial artists were busy haggling or wandering around.
It reminded him of the bustling streets of Yangyang, where the Desolate Fortress was located.
It suggested a great deal.
"The Murim Alliance's foundation is impressive. It seems capable of rivaling the Desolate Fortress."
Flame Dragon, walking on the right, commented while holding the reins of his horse.
"If a city housing the alliance headquarters is already this vibrant, it's hard to imagine how much more it'll grow, fueled by the logistics consumed by the alliance.
"As Hanzhong prospers, the symbolism of the Murim Alliance meeting will deepen. Famine is hell only for those who have nothing. Wealth and food in this world always gather in places of power."
His insight matched his status as the heir of a prestigious family, despite his laid-back and sly demeanor.
"Are you talking about me?"
Jung Yeonshin asked. Flame Dragon quickly shook his head.
"Of course not. I must always show respect to our leader, the master. I was just talking to myself."
"Behave yourself."
The young leader casually implied that he had heard everything. For someone outside the common folk, such expressions were hard to make without sounding awkward.
Lately, this had become even more apparent. Heon Wonchang chuckled, and Namgoong Hwashin's lips curled slightly upward.
Only the disciples of Dianqing Sect followed awkwardly, unable to join the conversation. Among them, one junior swordsman simply smiled naively.
While walking straight down the wide road from the gates of Hanzhong, the group dismounted and led their horses on foot.
As they walked, people began to stop upon recognizing the attire of the Desolate Fortress.
Some even ran ahead to spread the news.
Heon Wonchang spoke up.
"There will be countless disputes. The Murim Alliance surely didn't invite outsiders of dark or unorthodox sects, so the Desolate Fortress must be seen as a thorn in their side."
"This already feels tedious—the pretense typical of orthodox sects and the hidden thorns behind their courteous fronts. It's like the stifling air is sinking into my bones."
Flame Dragon lowered his gaze, looking slightly drowsy with faintly furrowed brows.
He continued speaking.
"Isn't it simple, though? We safely oversee the Opening Tournament and impress them with the dignity of the fortress. They won't openly harm us, and the Alliance itself might even protect us from assassinations. The host is responsible for the safety of their guests. We just need to mind appearances."
"That appearance is a matter of life and death, you fool. Over a hundred sects have reportedly signed the alliance's charter. Imagine the countless eyes that will be watching us."
Heon Wonchang had a knack for keeping Flame Dragon in check.
Though he occasionally recoiled at the aura unique to the heir of a prestigious clan.
Using his rank, Heon Wonchang often rebuked Flame Dragon on Jung Yeonshin's behalf.
"If only we'd had more time. With the mission in Sichuan, this white-rank would've gone directly."
Flame Dragon clicked his tongue.
"At this Opening Tournament, I'll need to earn substantial merit. I'll aim for a two-rank promotion unheard of in Desolate Fortress history and target the blue rank immediately."
As they spoke, the Murim Alliance headquarters came into view.
Its presence alone felt impregnable.
It was so vast that it couldn't be taken in with a single glance.
A massive, towering wall surrounded the land like a fortress.
Given Hanzhong's strategic position as a central hub, it was hard to imagine how they secured such extensive grounds.
It reminded Jung Yeonshin of the Desolate Fortress. It even had a moat.
For martial artists who had honed their bodies, moats meant little. It seemed more about displaying authority.
"This… doesn't it look far too similar to the fortress? It's almost uncanny."
Heon Wonchang murmured.
The bridge over the moat leading to the entrance was tremendously wide, enough for dozens to pass at once.
Guards escorted merchants transporting goods, caravans trading supplies, and martial artists affiliated with the alliance.
Though quieter than the entrance to Hanzhong, the solemnity was more pronounced.
"Desolate…? Desolate Fortress…!"
Someone froze upon seeing the group.
Jung Yeonshin's black robe with the golden 'Desolate' symbol stood out unmistakably.
Anyone from the Murim Alliance would recognize it instantly.
The atmosphere shifted in a heartbeat. Movement on the bridge ceased.
Amidst murmurs, familiar terms echoed—Desolate Fortress, black robe, Xinye, White Qilin, Flame Dragon…
"We've arrived at the place to declare our alliance."
Heon Wonchang laughed heartily.
His reputation as a regional lord in South Zhili was distant from Hanzhong, so no one recognized him.
The group crossed the bridge over the moat without interruption.
The guards at the entrance stiffened.
One of them stepped forward after Heon Wonchang moved beside Jung Yeonshin.
"Where are you from…?"
Perhaps to maintain appearances, they asked despite knowing the answer.
"We are from the Desolate Fortress. I am from the Radiant Demon Squad."
"...Present your register."
The guard turned slightly to call another subordinate, who approached with a brush dipped in ink and a ledger.
The disciples of Dianqing Sect entered first, with one junior swordsman winking before stepping inside.
"I am Heon Wonchang, a white-ranked martial artist under the Radiant Demon Squad of the Desolate Fortress' Divine Sword Squad. Known as the Desolate Fortress' Sacred Warrior. Here is my Desolate Badge."
Heon Wonchang, Flame Dragon, and Namgoong Hwashin verified their identities.
The crowd murmured upon hearing their names—renowned as the strongest prodigies of the Eight Clans.
Now, appearing as swords of the Desolate Fortress, their gazes were tinged with bitterness and hostility.
"Next…"
The gatekeeper hesitated.
He tensed, fully aware of the final person's identity.
The black-robed boy flanked by a Dragon and a Qilin—none other than Jung Yeonshin of Xinye. Recently, he had rapidly gained fame as a rising star among top-tier martial artists.
Those well-versed in the martial world refrained from mentioning the Black Swordsmen of Desolate Fortress.
The existence of a single individual, housing the strength of a legion, yet holding a status that involved killing even orthodox martial artists under the guise of justice for the people, was practically taboo in the White Path of Wulin.
The Leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, Lightning Genius.
This individual played a pivotal role in directing the three martial divisions of Desolate Fortress against the Hwangbo Clan and had personally participated in life-and-death battles with Namgoong's direct lineage.
It was ironic indeed. This formidable martial artist had been deeply involved in the very causes that the Murim Alliance claimed as the foundation of their coalition.
"…"
The bridge over the moat fell silent.
Hwooook—thud.
A young man dressed in green robes descended between the gatekeepers and the martial artists of Desolate Fortress.
He held a fan reinforced with steel blades, exuding an air of refinement alongside a scholarly demeanor.
Swwwwish.
He turned to face Jung Yeonshin, reversing his grip on the fan and clasping his hands in a martial salute.
"I am Zhuge Hyeon. Though it is presumptuous of me to intrude upon this first meeting, I have long admired the fame of the Leader of Radiant Demon Squad. With all due respect, I request a sparring match."
His words thickened the already palpable silence. The passersby turned their full attention toward the scene, eager to witness what promised to be a momentous event.
They no longer cast discreet glances at the martial artists of Desolate Fortress but openly stared, hoping to become spectators of a captivating clash.
"This is… quite unexpected. That's not like him…"
Flame Dragon muttered, seemingly familiar with Zhuge Hyeon as the eldest son of the Hwangbo Clan.
"Here, of all places?"
Jung Yeonshin asked quietly, sensing Zhuge Hyeon's gaze. His sharp eyes briefly scanned the Beiming Sword at his waist, feeling the unmistakable scrutiny.
His heightened senses, sharpened by his upper dantian, caught the strength in Zhuge Hyeon's gaze. There was something peculiar about those eyes.
'Those eyes…'
He pondered.
Among the countless martial arts, there existed techniques called Sight Arts. These were disciplines dedicated to enhancing sight, pushing visual perception to its absolute limits.
Well-developed Sight Arts granted an unparalleled view of the battlefield, transcending mere martial skill.
'Something feels off.'
Zhuge Hyeon, the Fan Dragon.
It wasn't victory he sought. Rather, he seemed to be aiming for something, as if he had a larger scheme in mind.
This wouldn't be a fleeting encounter but part of a grander design.
Jung Yeonshin tilted his head slightly. What kind of scheme had he unwittingly walked into as soon as he set foot at the entrance of the Murim Alliance gathering?
The sensation was not dissimilar to what he had felt when confronting Zhu Yeon-jeong, the mistress of Desolate Ma Clan.
"A few light exchanges should suffice."
For now, he accepted the challenge.
Zhuge Hyeon's lips curved into a faint smile, a curious expression.
"I am deeply honored."
An impromptu space for sparring emerged atop the wide bridge over the moat.
In an instant, murmurs spread, and a crowd formed at the gates of the Murim Alliance's main hall, eager to witness the unfolding duel.
From the bustling streets of Hanzhong to the Murim Alliance's main hall, the crowd followed. The people surrounding the two were filled with curiosity as they spoke.
"The Desolate Fortress truly brings turmoil wherever it goes!"
"To think the Fan Dragon would personally request a duel. But isn't he being too respectful? Even if the boy has high status, he hasn't even reached twenty."
"Keep your mouth shut. You're completely ignorant. If you truly understood what that black robe represents, you wouldn't dare say such nonsense."
"To witness the swordsmanship of the Desolate Fortress' squad leader…! It's a blessed day!"
The duel between the young man and the boy, who had been staring at each other, suddenly began.
Whoosh!
Zhuge Hyeon took a light step forward. Despite its subtlety, his movement embodied profound principles.
Dust scattered from the gap between his sole and the ground, and a visible surge of force spiraled up his leg like a whirlwind.
Following his step was an immediate strike.
The steel fan snapped open, sweeping horizontally like a blade.
Ordinary iron fans were wielded like clubs, but the Zhuge Clan's fan techniques seemed fundamentally different.
Each rib of the fan carried a force that created swirling currents, like miniature whirlwinds.
'Interesting.'
A slight smile formed on the boy's lips as Zhuge Hyeon unleashed his technique.
The hem of Jung Yeonshin's black robe suddenly lifted. It was as if he stepped on air, leaping effortlessly.
He planted his leather shoes atop the steel fan ribs.
Tap.
His hands remained behind his back. He did not draw his sword.
Recalling the peculiar gaze Zhuge Hyeon had earlier and the instructions given by Ak Surim, the Divine Spear, Jung Yeonshin remembered his mission clearly.
All he had to do was humiliate them in some way. Whatever schemes the Murim Alliance harbored were irrelevant.
'Wind Body Footwork.'
He displayed the lightweight movement technique he had recently developed.
Releasing subtle waves of force through his entire body, he floated atop the fan ribs as if weightless.
It felt like riding on clouds.
The sensation of his body swaying along with his robes was exhilarating and entirely new.
Jung Yeonshin adjusted his balance in response to Zhuge Hyeon's fan movements and bursts of energy, shifting his center of gravity continuously.
It was as if he was gliding through the air alongside the ribs of the fan.
"What… is this…?!"
Zhuge Hyeon looked completely flustered. His straight eyebrows twisted into a frown.
"..."
The crowd, who had been buzzing with anticipation, fell silent.
Someone murmured the phrase "Crossing the Yangtze on a Reed".
It referenced the Buddhist legend of Bodhidharma, who crossed a river by riding a single reed.
Standing atop the Zhuge heir's fan was indeed comparable to standing on a reed atop the Yangtze's waves.
"Radiant Demon Squad leader! What are you doing…!"
A mid-level martial artist from the Shandong Ak Family shouted.
"When the Fan Dragon of the Murim Alliance challenged me to a duel…"
Jung Yeonshin's posture was calm and dignified. He stood indifferently at the tip of the fan, looking down.
His stance, hands still clasped behind his back, exuded an air of elegance.
"I'm giving him instruction."
Jung Yeonshin did not consider this mockery. For him, it was a proper contest of martial techniques, testing each other's refined skills and philosophy.
It was the boy's only source of enjoyment.
He lingered atop the fan for a moment longer, stepping down at the perfect timing—just as the Ak Family martial artist prepared to thrust his spear.
By disrupting the opponent's breathing, Jung Yeonshin calmly released his hands from behind his back.
Now, he seemed no different from any other boy his age.
"While weapon techniques are important, mastery of movement should come first."
A brief silence followed.
The overwhelming spectacle had captivated the onlookers, who could not tear their eyes away from the black-robed boy.
Regardless of age, gender, or status, they all appeared mesmerized by the unprecedented display.
"I chose the right genius. Truly wise advice."
Flame Dragon broke the silence with applause, nodding as he spoke.
Jung Yeonshin saw right through him.
Whether the admiration was genuine or not, it was clear Flame Dragon's flattery played a significant role.
As the heir to a traitorous family, his reputation heavily depended on the leader's approval.
"Covering incompetence with flattery is disgraceful—typical of sycophants."
"..."
Jung Yeonshin turned to the gatekeeper.
"We'll enter the main hall. Lead the way."
"…Follow me."
The leader of the gate guards, still dazed, turned to guide them.
Zhuge Hyeon stood frozen, unmoving, while the Ak Family martial artist appeared hesitant to take risks by engaging the young leader of the Desolate Fortress.
He merely signaled the guards to disperse the spectators.
For a moment, only the sound of footsteps echoed.
The black, blue, white, and plain robes trailed behind as the group approached the large entrance.
Even as the crowd was pushed back, their gazes lingered on the group's retreating figures—slow and strangely tranquil.
Summer was long, but it had an end.
Now, autumn had arrived.
Bright red leaves fell overhead.
A gentle autumn breeze swept past Jung Yeonshin's group, its subtle touch, like a painter's brush, seemed to accentuate the boy's aura of strength as the squad leader of the Desolate Fortress.
* * *
The Murim Alliance's leadership had deliberately sent the Fan Dragon. Victory wasn't the goal.
From the start, no one expected Zhuge Hyeon to win.
It was enough to test the accuracy of the traces obtained from Namgoong Se-jin's corpse—the traces related to the Desolate Fortress Divine Sword Squad's techniques.
Ultimately, they sought to analyze the techniques of Radiant Demon Squad's master swordsman.
The Murim Alliance was filled with sharp-eyed observers.
The Zhuge Clan's insight techniques were famously intricate, accompanied by their tactical formations.
The Murong Clan was no less capable, having acquired insight techniques from the tomb of an unknown Demon Lord connected to the Ming Cult.
"He didn't even draw his sword?"
A middle-aged man with piercing black eyes muttered.
Zhuge Cheon, the Master of Wind and Water Techniques, leader of the Zhuge Clan's Heavenly Division, now temporarily acted as the Military Chief of the Alliance while the Alliance Leader and Zhuge Clan head were away reviewing the recovered sword techniques.
"The Desolate Fortress' Squad Leader requests an audience."
A refined voice spoke from beyond the elegant curtain.
It belonged to a servant directly trained by the Zhuge Clan. Zhuge Cheon responded immediately.
"Let him in."
Granting entry, he reached for the stones on his chair's armrest, scattering them strategically.
The air grew heavy in an instant.
It activated the Zhuge Clan's protective formation, rivaling the Blood Flame Cult's techniques.
The Heavy Wind Wall Formation—designed to safeguard the hall during its construction—was now in effect.
It formed invisible walls outside and razor-sharp winds inside.
It was a domain of mystic arts.
From beneath the curtain, a pair of black leather shoes appeared.
The servant and Jung Yeonshin must now face the formation.
Such physical barriers were rare and nearly impossible for martial artists to bypass through ordinary means.
A skilled mystic could create untouchable domains, even against masters.
'Blatant hostility might be a poor strategy…'
Zhuge Cheon pondered.
Testing temperament through provocation was one of many methods, and in the martial world, it often proved effective.
The Opening Tournament would last long.
Understanding the boy's nature and exploiting his weaknesses was crucial.
Martial techniques were powered by will, and disrupting the boy's focus could yield valuable insights—or expose embarrassing flaws publicly.
"Let him in."
Zhuge Cheon said again, raising his voice deliberately.
Whoosh—
Suddenly, a hand pierced through the green silk curtain.
It was the form of a straight knife-hand.
For a moment, Zhuge Cheon felt an eerie, divine chill.