CHAPTER 248

The order to capture the official overseeing the Orthodox faction fell from the lips of the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad.

'What?'

Was this even possible? Even having witnessed it firsthand, it was difficult to believe such words.

In an instant, Wang Weishu, the regional magistrate, furrowed his jet-black brows. What had this lowly bastard just said?

The tribunal officer was the first to react. Immediately after cautiously observing the cold, stern eyes of Jung Yeonshin seated before her,

"Move!"

The crimson tassel tied to the sword guard at her waist suddenly fluttered upward. With her left hand gripping the hilt, she unleashed a powerful surge of energy.

It was the drawing technique of the Golden Crest Autumn Blossom Sword Style.

A renowned sword art among the upper echelons of Beijing, where a single draw scattered petal-shaped energy waves in all directions.

A sword technique practiced fervently by the upper-class officials of Beijing.

'Radiant Arts Leader is terrifyingly formidable, but his internal and external wounds are severe! The leader must be dealt with first, no matter what!'

As she urgently grasped her sword guard with her right hand—

From the ceiling to the floor, a white light suddenly flickered down in a long, slender arc.

Ssshhh.

It skimmed past the tribunal officer's shoulder. No noticeable presence, no sound—just a single streak of eerie, chilling killing intent.

Beyond the stark white haze, a figure had already lowered his stance, one knee bent, the knot of his Heroic Ribbon fluttering at the back of Heon Wonchang's head.

His expression remained indifferent. His sword, unstained by even a single drop of blood, rested lightly against the ground.

Beside him, the tribunal officer's right arm had been severed.

Puhak!

"Aaaargh—!"

Only belatedly did blood erupt from her shoulder. A terrifyingly smooth and refined stroke of a killing blade.

Heon Wonchang had seamlessly incorporated his swordsmanship into Radiant Arts Secret.

With a single strike, he had neutralized the tribunal officer who governed the ancient city of Xi'an. In terms of hiding presence and striking with perfect precision, none surpassed the Radiant Demon Squad.

It was the unmistakable blue rank of Desolate Fortress. Every Radiant Demon relentlessly followed their leader's example.

"Stop!"

Rising unsteadily, Wang Weishu roared.

But his command was not directed at the Radiant Arts Leader. He raised a hand behind him, halting the armored warriors who were pushing through the entrance of the inn.

"The one who slew the Ghost Spirit Sword has now spoken of immediate execution. You wretches, lay down your weapons and fulfill your duty as subordinates. Do you intend to harm a government official?"

"Some officials have quite the keen perception."

Suddenly appearing without a sound, Chung Myung smiled faintly, descending with astonishing speed and fluidity.

His Myung Clan Body Arts resembled an assassin's movements, yet bore an unmistakable strength.

A white radiance flickered along the sword blade he pressed lightly against Wang Weishu's neck.

"..."

A silence deeper than before settled over the already quiet inn. Through the window frame, faint sunlight cast shadows over drifting dust particles.

The warriors under Wang Weishu's command halted at the entrance. Their expressions all twisted with shock.

Wang Weishu swallowed hard.

"Their audacity pierces the heavens. This is no ordinary Demonic faction." 

He spoke in a low voice, his tone betraying a mix of wariness and intrigue. "Who… exactly are you?"

"That is none of your concern."

Jung Yeonshin, sitting alone with composed dignity, answered.

Wang Weishu let out a scoffing laugh.

He was well aware of the value of true martial prowess, just as much as he understood the weight of political power.

A man who commanded the finest warriors of the Murim Alliance without lifting a single finger.

His authority, encompassing both civil and military affairs, was undoubtedly extraordinary.

Perhaps his individual martial prowess and experience fell short of the Thirteen Celestial Demons or the Nine Great Sects' leaders, but he possessed a power close to theirs.

Seeing it firsthand only confirmed what had been uncertain before.

The tribunal officer, who once regarded the disciples of the Seven Major Sects of Xi'an with disdain, was now writhing on the ground, felled by a single stroke.

Thus, Wang Weishu puffed out his chest even more.

It was a world where the strong ruled the weak. If he wished to walk away from this alive, he had to present his authority in the most refined manner possible.

Unlike the previous regional magistrate of Unyangbu, who died in silence, Wang Weishu had both a distinguished background and a high-ranking position in an esteemed city.

He recited a line in a measured tone, as if quoting poetry:

"Do you even realize where you stand and what you have done? I was born and raised in the esteemed Wang family of Beijing, personally witnessing the Divine Sword of the Emperor in action. His Majesty himself bestowed upon me my official rank and even granted me the honor of remembering my face. No matter how exceptional your martial skill and subordinates may be, in broad daylight, you dare—"

Then.

A woman standing beside the Radiant Arts Leader parted her lips. Like him, she was cloaked in an aura of cold, unwavering presence, her voice as frigid as a winter storm.

"You truly have no idea where you stand or what you've just said. Officials across the land may struggle to immediately update the wanted portraits of seventeen individuals, but—" 

She smirked, 

"you look utterly ridiculous."

"Seventeen? What nonsense is a mere escort guard spouting—"

Wang Weishu abruptly fell silent.

A brief pause.

His confrontation with the Ghost Spirit Sword, the peculiar behavior and speech, the nonchalant manner in which they treated a regional magistrate, the exceedingly young appearance, the mention of seventeen—

He was no fool.

Panic flared in his mind, swiftly morphing into terror that shot down his spine like a bolt of ice.

"There… seems to have been a misunderstanding."

Wang Weishu's tone shifted immediately. He had no choice.

He had walked right into the jaws of a tiger.

It was absurd. Was there anything more laughable than this?

To confess his crimes before the new Desolate Fortress' squad leader, whose name had already shaken the martial world after dominating the Murim Alliance Opening Tournament.

Ssshh.

Bringing both hands together, he raised them in a formal greeting.

Though normally a gesture done with the head held high, he bowed deeply, lowering his gaze.

Gone was his arrogant air as a noble official.

He erased all signs of pride from his posture, lowering himself as if paying respects to the late Emperor Dowager.

"The vast lands of Shaanxi have been completely overrun by the Demonic faction. The annihilation of the Zhongnan Sect was a grievous event. If one wishes to survive as an official, there are few other options…"

Slaaash!

A black streak of energy slashed past Wang Weishu's ear. A crystallized form of pure, refined energy.

Like a thread drawn from the depths of the abyss, the sharp force cut off his ear, causing blood to seep into his robes.

"Do not defile the ears of the one before you. The sensation will be the same next time."

Baek Miryeo elegantly extended and then curled her pale fingers.

Wang Weishu's excuse twisted into a scream.

Even as he writhed in pain alongside the groaning tribunal officer, his guards dared not intervene.

For they had witnessed the extreme reverence their commander had displayed just moments ago.

"What in the world…"

The leader of the navy-clad warriors standing at the inn's entrance muttered in disbelief.

This was far from the situation they had expected.

They had anticipated a casual drink, yet all that spilled was blood.

And in the glaring sunlight that illuminated the scene with merciless clarity, one by one, they were bound and captured.

With the outbreak of bloodshed, the inevitable events that should have unfolded now surged forward at breakneck speed.

The regional magistrate and the tribunal officer were thrown into the underground storeroom of the inn, essentially imprisoned.

There, they would face the Ghost Spirit Sword, now devoid of both arms.

Meanwhile, Shin So-bin and Kang Chang-mu retrieved a variety of documents, scrolls detailing the activities of the officials of Xi'an Prefecture.

They had infiltrated the government office with their Stealth Arts, seizing them without a trace.

As they finished assessing the situation, the magistrate and the tribunal officer's faces turned deathly pale.

After all, what had they displayed before the Desolate Fortress' squad leader?

There was no room for excuses. The fear that spewing sophistry might cost them their necks stiffened their expressions.

"One, not just one, but a whole chain of them caught up in this. Executing them all would be a hassle. Not to mention, I've heard the Eastern Depot has been grumbling. The eunuch Myeong-yeo has already fallen from grace."

Squatting on the damp underground floor, Chung Myung muttered to himself.

"Rather, rather than this, just kill me! If you release my blood meridians, I'll take my own life!"

Using the rank granted by the emperor, they had sought personal gain and deceived the people. The grave crimes of the Xi'an's officials would not end with mere decapitation.

The Great Ming Law was exceedingly severe. It would call for the execution of three generations. If this matter reached Beijing, their entire families might face punishment.

Wang Weishu was offering his own life in exchange for burying the issue.

But his timing was poor.

They had already fallen out of the Radiant Demon Squad's leader's interest.

"What should I do? This is beyond my authority."

Chung Myung grinned.

Above them, on the first floor of the inn, having finished interrogating the Ghost Spirit Sword, Baek Miryeo wiped the blood from her fingertips and reported to Jung Yeonshin.

"This won't be easy. Zhongnan Sect's disciple, Jung-hye is…"

The young Radiant Demon Squad's leader felt an immense sense of depletion. His entire body was gradually growing sluggish.

He had concealed it from his companions, but the recoil was severe. The harsh drawback of an explosive martial art that prioritized short-term battles was becoming painfully evident.

Adding to the issue was the communication received from Jin Myeongjo, the leader of the Blood Preservation Squad, and the secret messengers of Desolate Fortress.

[Linzubu of Shaanxi, Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader has left the main sect, heading south alone. His subordinates cannot keep pace.]

[Hanzhong Prefecture, Blood Flame Cult's First Apostle has appeared, moving north with terrifying lightness skill.]

[At the center, Fengxiang Prefecture, Yeoryeong Sect's First Sword has emerged. Shaanxi's Number One Demon, Wei Guk-sang has crushed Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword Formation and fled.]

[Mount Hua's Sect Leader, Starlight Sword Deity, Yulha Nangnang, has descended the mountain wielding the Violet Dawn Sacred Sword.]

'I have to prepare, whether it's recovery or forging the fourth sword form.'

Facing supreme martial artists was inevitable, but he had been born with the fate to shatter such constraints.

Shaanxi was a battlefield for great sects.

At any moment, he could come face-to-face with another master of the highest order.

'I need to devise the next Sword Thunder Flash Art form, one that won't strain my body.'

Several ideas surfaced.

By now, the inspirations for Jung Yeonshin's martial evolution were limitless.

Rumors of the orthodox martial sects like Shaolin and Wudang, insights from Desolate Fortress' bloodline and elders, or even the fleeting sensations of wind brushing against his skin.

His upper dantian, glowing white within his mind, whispered to him—nothing was impossible for him.

'Of course. You should be the one to say that.'

As he sorted through the flashes of inspiration, his gaze settled on Baek Miryeo's lips.

"Hmm…?"

Suddenly, a thunderbolt struck his Baihui Acupoint at the crown of his head.

A sharp, electrifying sensation coursed through him, tilting his vision sideways.

At the same time, his sight blurred.

Alongside the muffled, disintegrating sound of Baek Miryeo's scream.

— Lightning Genius!

* * *

Nine days prior, at the Radiant Demon Squad Pavilion.

Lady Ye of the Murim Alliance had grown rather close to the nameless disciples of the Radiant Demon Squad. Her friendly nature played a large role, smiling as she approached them while they trained in Radiant Arts Secret.

Desolate Fortress had always been a militant faction. It could not have been otherwise.

Fights were often settled in the Martial Moon Hall, their dueling grounds.

A martial collective of warriors who hunted and killed their own kind.

The children, having witnessed Lady Ye sparring against their seniors, naturally accepted her.

Conversations about their squad leader often arose.

Since Desolate Fortress' Lord had personally admitted her into their territory, they had no reason to suspect she might be a threat.

"If you ask why the squad leader hasn't formed ties with the Ma Clan… isn't it just because he doesn't need to? With that face, that age, and that level of martial prowess, even Lord of Fortress cherishes him. What's there to regret? Besides, the Ma Clan already has an heir. Ma Se-in. He's known as Shield Hero now."

"He's pretty close with squad leader."

"He's a good person! His mother's the real problem."

"Yeah, exactly." 

They nodded among themselves as they spoke.

And so, after much chatter, they revealed a rough outline of their squad leader's movements to Lady Ye.

"His mother?"

"She was terrible, she tormented the squad leader before. There was even a huge incident last time. Right now, she's imprisoned in a remote corner of the Ma Clan. She's from an imperial collateral lineage. Her name is Zhu Yeon-jeong."

"Zhu Yeon-jeong…?"

That afternoon.

Seated in a secluded pavilion, Lady Zhu Yeon-jeong's right arm was severed.

A shrill scream echoed through Desolate Fortress' twilight.

Her throat was about to be slashed next when a figure wearing a black prosthetic hand descended like a streak of light, deflecting Lady Ye's hand blade.

Thus, the second strike was thwarted.

Lady Ye, glancing at her opponent's face, showed no signs of lingering attachment.

Whether it was an escape or a leisurely stroll, her movements were hard to discern. She merely drifted away, her sleeve torn by Ma Jin's Radiant Demon Arts.

And Ma Jin made no effort to stop her.

"The Fortress' Lord must have given her tacit approval. They call her the Chief Internal Strategist of the Murim Alliance's Internal Army. It's hard to grasp her intentions."

"How foolish. There's no one in the world as simple as me."

That was the end of it.

Lady Ye vanished from Desolate Fortress without a trace.

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