CHAPTER 198

Even after hearing Heon Wonchang's harsh words, no one responded.

The actions of Radiant Demon Squad Leader Lightning Genius left a deep sense of shame among the righteous martial artists. Reacting rashly to the provocation would only result in disgrace.

Everyone knew this. The place was filled with people either averting their gazes or simply staring blankly.

'Hmph.'

Desolate Fortress' Sacred Warrior tilted his chin in an ostentatious display.

It was a remark meant to console those who had fought against the alliance's masters. This attendant understood the leader's heart.

The expression "a funeral dirge" was fitting. It was a verse carefully crafted to sound that way. Yet, the context was peculiar.

For those who knew Lightning Genius's constitution, it conveyed something different.

Heon Wonchang believed that only he and Jung Yeonshin could grasp the deeper meaning here.

But he was wrong.

"That young man's words hold deep meaning. My house's master sought to grant peace to his adversaries. He acted with chivalry."

It was during this moment that the short-statured clan leader, Tang Yun-hwang, stepped forward.

First, the energy emanating from the small giant, a hybrid of the Iron Tribe, began to surge. It was overwhelmingly powerful.

He had come to repay a debt. This was the seed Jung Yeonshin had sown in his wanderings across the martial world. A truly formidable ally had arrived.

With neither strength nor justification lacking, the internal affairs of the alliance would now be left for them to resolve amongst themselves.

"The Tang clan will henceforth prioritize the safety of the Dark Flame King in Hanzhong above all else. Zhuge Clan leader, do not act recklessly. It would be wise to await the alliance's verdict."

A flicker of intrigue crossed Heon Wonchang's eyes as he listened with satisfaction.

Suddenly.

He caught sight of the young girl standing beside the leader. Her eyes widened slightly, her clear pupils darting back and forth.

It was right after he had uttered a remarkable verse.

The fearless spirit that had just declared her father's disgrace before the crowd had vanished.

She now glanced sideways at Jung Yeonshin, her lips slightly parted in a daze.

She looked utterly shocked, but even more so, deeply moved.

Seeing this unfold, Heon Wonchang's mind raced.

'She has seen enough of our leader's scars to break through his martial arts. If someone from the Zhuge Clan possesses such insight into Sight Arts, then her attainment must be extraordinary. It's possible to discern things from scars. But now, after hearing my words, she's making that expression…?'

Damn it, could it be…?

At that moment, Heon Wonchang's gaze met Zhuge Qing-ya's. The girl's face instantly turned expressionless.

She had swiftly regained her usual composure. Heon Wonchang thought to himself. A noble family is indeed a noble family.

'Cunning.'

As Desolate Fortress' Sacred Warrior, he pondered—could Zhuge Clan's precious jade branch truly be considered an enemy to be eradicated?

Then.

Zhuge Qing-ya, possessing the same keen intuition as her father, subtly shook her head.

The meaning behind the gesture was difficult to decipher. Her hair shimmered under the sunlight as it moved. Was she feigning ignorance?

'How can I trust that?'

Heon Wonchang furrowed his brows, harboring his deep-seated distrust towards the martial world's great sects.

Meanwhile, the situation inside the hall rapidly escalated. With Jung Yeonshin cradling the corpse of the Azure Qilin, events began to reach their conclusion.

This would not only affect the alliance but also cause ripples across the vast martial world, albeit slowly.

"A summit of the leaders must be called! The motion is for the Zhuge Clan leader's self-reflection!"

"Leader of the Forest Striding Squad, withdraw your troops. Our alliance will not bring harm to envoys."

This was how the power of noble families and great clans manifested in crucial moments. The heads of ancient and prestigious factions had extensive and influential networks.

There were those who wished to resolve the situation with moderation. Pretending to be outraged, they spoke of self-reflection and seclusion.

Their intentions were obvious. They aimed to protect the position of the Zhuge Clan leader.

Still, high above, the supreme master stood silently on the rooftop, overlooking the gathered crowd like a crane.

The Sleeping Dragon, the Zhuge Clan leader, was shrewd.

He knew there was nothing to gain from speaking now. He relied on the seeds he had sown, the loyal followers he had cultivated—to act in his stead.

'Self-reflection, is it?'

Unacceptable. 

Heon Wonchang signaled to Lazy Flame Dragon with a glance. The eldest and nameless disciple of Radiant Demon Squad chuckled as he reached into his robes.

"Look here."

A letter was drawn out. A document obtained from a corrupt magistrate's corpse.

It was proof that the Zhuge Clan leader had turned a blind eye to the forces of the Profound Martial Alliance in exchange for favor with the regional magistrate.

Lazy Flame Dragon held up the letter, summoning an invisible, razor-sharp energy.

Swish.

The seal was broken. The contents unraveled before all.

Everyone present had refined their martial arts to a high level, so reading small characters from a distance was an effortless task.

From the dragon-like brushstrokes to the personal seal of the Zhuge Clan leader at the bottom of the document—

"...!"

Snap.

Suddenly, the Zhuge Clan leader closed his fan.

A small gesture created an afterimage.

The force emitted from the ribs of his fan lashed out to shred Lazy Flame Dragon's hand, but Ak Surim's long spear shattered the attack completely.

The expressions of those who had spoken of the Zhuge Clan leader's 'self-reflection' twisted into horror.

"Since when does a scholar belittle Radiant Demon Squad's merits? Stay out of this."

Her hair danced wildly as she scoffed. Standing beside her, Xiahou Wei-jin bared his teeth in laughter.

He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, barely restraining his fierce nature.

Inside the alliance's very heart, the subordinates of the young leader expanded the domain of Desolate Fortress.

This was the finishing touch.

With the corpse of a former rival in his arms, Lightning Genius had both justification and strength. His subordinates stood by him, his senior warriors shielded him.

Only now could the Radiant Demon Squad Leader Jung Yeonshin bid farewell to the Azure Qilin.

"That is indeed the script of the Chief Strategist. The seal is imbued with his energy…"

"He flattered the regional magistrate, throwing dignity aside."

"Such disgrace, even worse than Desolate Fortress…"

The alliance, a confederation of factions, had its flaws—one of which was its slow decision-making. However, this also made it easier to shift responsibility.

Masters within the alliance who had long despised the Zhuge Clan leader seized the moment. Even among the righteous sects, internal strife existed.

The overwhelming power of the Zhuge Clan had suppressed others, preventing them from stretching their wings.

Now, events triggered by the Radiant Demon Squad Leader intertwined, reshaping the balance of power.

Hoo—

With a sigh eerily reminiscent, the Zhuge Clan leader closed his eyes. He was the head of a righteous martial clan.

Unlike the leaders of demonic sects, he retained his composure even in the face of ruin. With a serene expression, he descended into the abyss.

But no one sympathized. None dared to.

Between silence and commotion—

The affairs of the alliance had fallen out of outsiders' hands. After paying his respects to his clan's young master, the Tang Clan leader began restoring order in the hall.

Jung Yeonshin stood quietly, sensing the chilling presence of Namgoong Se-jin.

As autumn neared its end, a few maple leaves drifted down, brushing against their faces before falling.

They were red and translucent. The sunlight scattered faintly over the leaves, reminiscent of a child's palm.

The young man, who had perished resisting the hierarchy of the turbulent martial world, now found rest in the embrace of his former adversary, shaking the entire faction system in his wake.

* * *

The Sword Saint Hyun So-baek was a man from Taekju, located in Shaanxi Province. His family had no ties to the martial world of Jianghu.

The Shaanxi martial realm was devoid of any prominent sects or grand martial clans.

It was only in recent years that the land had become a hotspot for opportunists chasing quick fortunes, all thanks to the discovery of an ancient, unnamed Heavenly Demon's tomb over a decade ago.

Around that same time, Hyun So-baek had already begun traversing the martial world of Henan Province.

He was much like the heroic figures of countless folk legends.

At the age of twelve, an inexplicable desire to dominate the world gripped him.

With nothing but a single travel bag, he left home. By sheer luck, he ended up under the wing of a wandering swordsman known as the Eternal Spring Swordsman.

He started as a sword servant, tending to blades and assisting the swordsman. They called him Sword Boy.

Even as a child, Hyun So-baek was known for his loyal and trustworthy nature. His sincerity and sense of duty earned him the trust and affection of even his rough-tempered master and companions.

Amid the ever-present uncertainty of survival faced by wandering swordsmen, he took every opportunity to learn energy circulation techniques and practical swordsmanship from them.

It wasn't long before his extraordinary talent became apparent.

He combined the Three Talents Heart Method, which had been widely distributed by the Ming imperial family, with the Five Elements Mental Art passed down by the Eternal Spring Swordsman.

He infused strength into his body and the earth, transforming himself into a champion wrestler and slightly enriching the fields, elevating the secret techniques of noble clans and the crude heart techniques of wandering warriors into Samra Mujin Heart Technique.

A talent capable of establishing a legacy on his own.

—Do not live a fleeting life. Swing your sword in the direction of your will.

Time passed, and amidst the corpses of his comrades, those were the last words left by the Eternal Spring Swordsman.

Blunt words, imbued with the sorrow of a wandering warrior. Words that pushed the young sword attendant into the martial world of masters.

Martial arts possess the power to turn people into beasts.

Even with government forces and Desolate Fortress in place, the demonic veins of the martial world multiplied like insects.

A world where a single sword could fill one's stomach and an evasive foot technique could let one escape death. The land was endlessly vast, allowing such things to happen.

Hyun So-baek fought countless battles and helped the common people.

After clashing with insignificant rogue factions, he became an archenemy of the Thirteen Celestial Demons. By then, Hyun So-baek had refined the wandering swordsmen's techniques into his own unique swordsmanship.

As the years passed, his swordsmanship became increasingly refined. Eventually, it transformed into a supreme martial technique, with few who could stand against it.

It was due to his Sword Talent, an innate gift that made his aptitude lean more toward swordplay rather than internal arts.

Tongcheon Mura Sword Art.

Thus, the Sword Saint emerged.

Wherever he passed, achievements followed. In a decisive battle, he even beheaded the leader of the Profound Martial Alliance.

His experience and fame accumulated to an astonishing extent. He was more than qualified to be nominated as the leader of the Martial Alliance's righteous faction.

Even knowing he was being positioned as a mere figurehead, he accepted it.

Having wandered the continent with the outcasts, he had witnessed a world in turmoil. He believed that a righteous faction should live up to its name.

And now.

"I owe you many apologies. My shame is not small."

Hyun So-baek had achieved a great victory.

He had completely ousted the Zhuge Clan leader and now stood before the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad. The one wielding the fan had belonged to the righteous faction and thus had to leave it.

He was accompanied by Eun Clan's First Fist. The leader of the Murong Clan had secluded himself, unable to handle an alliance that had joined forces with Zhuge's direct descendants.

Above all else, the squad leader of Desolate Fortress stood at the center of everything.

"On the contrary, I must thank you. If the Sword Saint had sided with the Zhuge Clan leader, the situation would have become even more chaotic."

"That's not the case. My reputation has already been trampled by worldly affairs. I sided with the Zhuge Clan leader to observe the Divine Sword Squad Leader's martial arts. One darkens when near ink, and so, I too am already a hypocrite. Even after winning the alliance, I cannot be free from the burden of keeping Desolate Fortress in check. If I must comfort and lead the anxious righteous factions… Hmm, I certainly have become more talkative."

It was a conversation between a rising master and an elder who had reversed the effects of aging. It was calm yet bitter.

In the garden, where autumn leaves were more splendid than flowers, standing amidst the crimson scenery, the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad held his sword downward, draped in a black robe that was sleeveless on the left side.

The energy surrounding him was steady and subdued, but at times, sharp waves rippled through it. Each time they did, the red leaves at his feet split apart on their own.

His entire body exuded an aura of full-body force release, razor-sharp and precise, fitting for a true swordsman.

The observers marveled.

"Our Lightning Genius has changed again? He's advancing faster than the previous grandmaster. That old man will be grinning ear to ear when we return."

"I'm not sure about his progress, but his sword stance does have a certain dignity. Who knows, perhaps one of our ancestors was among his lineage."

Ak Surim, the Desolate Divine Spear, and Xiahou Wei-jin, the Thousand Fist Dragon Force Minister, sat idly on a rock, watching.

Behind the Sword Saint, the representatives of the alliance stood upright.

The Tang Clan leader, the Sword Sage of Mount Hua, Yoo Hyun, the Little Sword Queen, Zhuge Hyeon and Zhuge Qing-ya, Ak Yerim, Murong Mingjun, Gongsun Min, and the heads of Namgoong's collateral lines.

Among them, the position of Lady Ye, the Grand Strategist of the Alliance, was subtly different.

Despite being part of the Alliance, she stood closer to Jung Yeonshin, the squad leader of Desolate Fortress.

With her arms leisurely folded behind her back, her raven-black hair cascaded down, standing at such an ambiguous distance that no one could openly criticize her.

"What do you think, Clan leader? Can the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad gain enlightenment?"

"My insight into swordsmanship could never compare to the Sword Sage of Mount Hua. I only worry for his safety."

"As a junior, I would love to hear both of your esteemed opinions. I have only trained in Four Symbolic Sword Styles, so my knowledge is not broad… I've never seen sword techniques like that before. Is the rumor true? They say Leader Jung creates his own martial arts. Even Miss Ak mentioned it before…"

Several young successors of martial clans had gathered as representatives of their factions.

The faction leaders were absent, but they had assembled to officially witness the final ceremony of the Opening Tournament.

A Sect Founding Ceremony was the most revered event in any martial clan. The ritual itself symbolized the legitimacy of the sect.

Even in the wake of recent chaos, it could not be completely disrupted. At least one exchange of swords had to take place.

The Sword Saint and Lightning Genius.

The aged swordsman, with the face of a young man, looked forward to this day.

Even while placating the powerful for the greater cause, he welcomed the emergence of new talent.

The moment he recognized Jung Yeonshin's talent and fated hardship, he sighed deeply. He hoped such a promising star would not fade into oblivion.

Had their paths crossed earlier, he might have taken him in as a disciple.

'Squad leader of Desolate Fortress, I do not know your true intentions.'

Sword Saint Hyun So-baek had never taken a disciple. He had lost his own master, Eternal Spring Swordsman, far too soon.

The martial world was treacherous. He feared that bringing a disciple into his sect would only result in them sharing the same sorrow.

Now, having met someone in the opposite position, he wondered—what was in the heart of the squad leader of Desolate Fortress, who had taken in a disciple that might not live long?

"Come in."

Hyun So-baek spoke, quietly drawing his sword. It had been a long time since his blade left its scabbard without making a sound.

The sword, carved from a single piece of wood, exuded a solemn grace.

A sense of expectation quietly arose.

Hyun So-baek pondered—when was the last time he felt intrigued by another's swordsmanship?

Perhaps the passage of time had dulled his memory, eroding it into a vague blur.

Or perhaps, it was simply because he himself was a wandering swordsman with sword talent worthy of being the leader of the Righteous Faction.

It was difficult to find inspiration in weaker techniques. A sword art had to contain extraordinary ingenuity.

Even the Profound Martial Alliance's former leader's techniques had only left him feeling displeased, so he did not wish to burden the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad.

No matter how extraordinary his talent, it was better not to say too much.

'That was a foolish thought.'

Hyun So-baek cast aside his expectations. He chose to act as a senior in the martial world.

"Refine your swordsmanship to its fullest."

As the high-ranking masters in the hall fell silent.

Step.

Lightning Genius silently took a step forward, raising Beiming, the Divine Sword forged by the Tang Clan.

He assumed an upper stance. The pristine blade traced the clouds before halting.

For a moment.

A chilling silence fell.

'Something is different.'

Hyun So-baek instinctively sensed it.

From the Radiant Demon Squad leader's blade, a pale energy began to unfurl.

The air twisted, forming a spectral aura around the blade, extending down the sword hilt, flowing into his right hand, and faintly teasing the edges of his jet-black robe.

Wind enveloped his entire being.

It was the Winter Gale.

An unnamed sword technique was on the verge of claiming its name.

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