The Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown was said to be a state where internal energy manipulation had reached its peak.
That was the meaning of the unity of essence, energy, and spirit. Internal energy followed the speed of thought. It was a state that troubled Jung Yeonshin, who had to survive in a world of supreme masters.
'Strangely enough, the slow ones are the fastest.'
There was a limit to predicting the rapid attacks of top martial artists. He had painfully realized this when he had nearly died to Ghost Spirit Sword and Shaanxi's Number One Demon.
Unless there were variables like Baek Seo-gun's Sword Control or opposing internal energies, he had a high chance of losing. Their accumulated martial arts were that profound.
During battle, the constant activation of the Radiant River was the first solution Jung Yeonshin devised.
A technique that collided opposing energies using the mysteries of spell formations to create lightning, Azure Qilin had named it.
Consistent application was the first step. By maintaining an always-charged explosive force, he wouldn't have to worry about the casting speed of a finishing blow. His combat response would increase dramatically.
He had trained for this.
He altered the energy nature of the Shaofu, Laogong, and Zhongzhu acupoints in his palms. Using Jung Clan Movement Arts, he strengthened the elasticity of his meridians and acupoint pathways. The power of repetition was immense.
What once seemed impossible became reality after a month of dedication.
The longer the battle lasted, the greater the strain on his body. But for Jung Yeonshin, who pursued swift battles, it was an acceptable price.
He could also greatly reduce the noise of his energy waves. It was worth using for ambushes.
'I was foolish. There was a reason why everyone else did it the same way.'
There was nothing wrong in the Four Books and Three Classics that Desolate Divine Spear so often preached. Jung Yeonshin reflected on himself once more.
A person must remain humble, just as he had always done.
"..."
Silence spread as a single move created a heavy stillness.
The snow, which had gathered in patches, gleamed unnaturally white.
The cold winter wind brushed past the blades of grass, stretching outward until it reached beyond the hills where battle had erupted.
Behind Jung Yeonshin, Jang Sun-il stood awkwardly, inhaling sharply without reason.
The young man who had thrown the spear looked as if he couldn't believe his own eyes.
Soon, his right hand drooped in a sign of despair. His combat spirit had completely vanished.
With difficulty, he spoke.
"The encirclement here… is the strongest."
"What?"
"If you come this way, it will not end well."
He answered as if speaking to himself, his voice barely more than a groan, yet he could not meet Jung Yeonshin's gaze.
Now that the nearby mountain range had become a vast battlefield, the Radiant Demon Squad's leader of Desolate Fortress was a terrifying variable.
For anyone in Mount Taebaek, that was undeniable. To those unaware of Jung Yeonshin's identity, it would be a disaster.
The young spearman felt an inexplicable unease from the black-cloaked boy standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
He simply could not comprehend his palm technique. His voice trembled unconsciously.
"You must not come… You must not come here…!"
"What nonsense is that?! Time is of the essence! If this continues, we'll be annihilated!"
An angry voice rapidly approached. It seemed to be a senior member of the spear-wielding sect.
At the same time, the laughter of a woman rang out.
Sneering words drifted through the transparent breeze—mocking, belittling.
Even the scent of blood-laden energy rode upon the wind.
'A demonic faction is fighting another demonic faction.'
Jung Yeonshin turned quietly. His entire body's energy sank into sharp stillness.
Jang Sun-il, who had been slightly opening his mouth, flinched.
"Let's go."
"Oh, y-yes! Are your hands alright?"
"They just feel a little cool."
His companion was a mountain village boy. Since they were of the same age and the boy was no warrior, Jung Yeonshin's tone became lighter.
Just as when he spoke to Yoo Hyun, it was more comfortable than coldly dismissing the warriors of the martial world.
"Let's go. Staying here will be troublesome."
"Huh? Uh—huh?"
Jung Yeonshin grabbed Jang Sun-il by the waist and slung him over his shoulder like a sack.
With his growing limbs and slightly broadened shoulders, it was now possible.
A sense of satisfaction welled up. Even the teasing of his companions, who had once mocked his chopstick-like arms, felt momentarily tolerable.
He glanced at the young spearman.
"You."
"Uh…."
The now-empty-handed spearman flinched. Though flustered, he had thrown a killing move upon first meeting. That said enough about the way he had lived.
He could hardly complain if he received rightful retaliation. If not from Jung Yeonshin, he would likely meet his end at the hands of the Seventh Apostle, who was currently unleashing the overwhelming force of Demon Roaring Blood Art.
Jung Yeonshin's lips moved.
"If you come this way, you will die."
"...!"
Without another glance, Jung Yeonshin stepped forward.
'Wind Body.'
Whoosh!
A surge of wind exploded from the Yongchuan Acupoint on his sole.
As soon as he pushed off the ground, the clamorous noise behind him merged into a single distant hum.
Perhaps only then did they realize something had happened. Faint killing intent belatedly rippled through the air.
* * *
Bright noon.
It was called Mount Taebaek because people wore white clothes year-round.
Among the peaks of the Jinryung Mountain Range, there was not a single summit untouched by perpetual snow. Even poets like Du Fu and Li Bai had visited, leaving behind their verses in admiration of its mystical beauty. The adjacent Seven Maidens Peak was no exception.
Thud.
A sedan chair was placed atop the white peak.
Even with his eyes narrowed against the glare, a man of refined scholarly demeanor sat inside.
Beside him, a silent swordsman gazed down at him.
"Is this effort truly necessary?"
She asked.
"There is a person who must be killed. There is no greater threat in the current martial world."
The man curled his red lips into a smile, rolling a long box between his fingers. A faint scent of medicinal herbs lingered in the air.
"Hmm."
"The speed of his growth is unnatural. Anyone dealing in information must think the same. It's just that in such a vast world, the importance and accuracy of rumors vary greatly."
His tone was peculiar, almost melodic. The rhythm of his speech carried an eerie refinement.
The swordswoman glanced at the wooden box in his hands.
'Thousand-Year-Old 'He Shou Wu'…'
She spoke again.
"No matter how exceptional Lightning Genius may be… Hasn't it only been about a year since he emerged? Would it not be wiser to focus on the Young Lord of the Ming Cult? I've heard that many spies in Xinjiang were exposed and killed."
The man chuckled languidly.
"Perhaps you did not see the last urgent report from those spies. The Obeying Heaven Squad was annihilated. Squad leader Ha Do-un died a most miserable death. Regardless of the methods, how could one who accomplished such a feat still be considered a mere seed?"
"The Obeying Heaven Squad…! But the weakened Ming Cult… how?"
"It is said he mastered dark arts and reached enlightenment early. His martial arts system is utterly bizarre. In any case, this is Shaanxi, so let us return to the main subject—Lightning Genius."
The man tucked the wooden box into his robes and continued.
"He was already under the scrutiny of the Blood Flame Cult. Upon closer examination, it seems he possesses Bodhidharma Power Martial Arts. Since no one from Desolate Fortress has demonstrated it before, it is likely a secret art. An astounding martial talent."
He sighed.
"From Sichuan to the Murim Alliance, and now here in Shaanxi… Do you know how many times I have reviewed his files?"
"You did well to send word to the Tyrant Sword Tribe. But was it truly necessary to inform the Blood Flame Cult? Ever since their cult leader disappeared, their factions have split, and the current Blood Demons are completely uncontrollable."
"The rebellion was led by the First Apostle. The First Apostle is taking the lead in reorganizing things. Regardless of their internal strife, crushing a single young black-clad warrior will be no problem."
His fingertips idly scratched the armrest. His movements were as delicate as his scheming.
He spoke again.
"There are rumors that the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader is personally coming. And if the rumors are not baseless, he is utterly furious. Who wouldn't be? Losing a nanny to a mere fledgling junior."
"The fate of Lightning Genius' niece was well-handled. It seems Shaanxi's Number One Demon, Wei Guk-sang, followed orders well. But do you think the Radiant Demon Squad's leader of Desolate Fortress will come here over mere rumors of the Thousand-Year-Old 'He Shou Wu'?"
The man smiled.
"I left a single root behind on purpose. The Radiant Demon Squad's leader will come without fail."
"I've gone through his movements so thoroughly that he almost feels like an old friend, but from what I know, he's not the type to turn his back on his kin. What we should be concerned about… is that mysterious 'Ascension' unique to those monstrous beings."
"The Young Lord has turned Mount Taebaek into hell itself. Do not worry."
The swordsman spoke slowly, his words carrying the insight of a seasoned warrior.
* * *
Night had fallen.
The darkness in the mountains was unusually deep.
As if it had always been so, the silent night hills absorbed even the occasional clanking of metal, dyeing the two boys' pupils in pitch black.
Perhaps because the mnemonic verse Jung Yeonshin recited each night was the Jung Clan Movement Arts, the unbroken silence felt like a mother's embrace.
Tap. Crackle.
The Three Samadhi True Fire flickered in his hands, lighting the campfire.
Jang Sun-il did not particularly try to stop him. He had come to understand his companion's martial prowess.
Even amidst the chaos of Mount Taebaek, he was undoubtedly a rare master. To warriors of sufficient caliber, he would be regarded as a reaper.
"..."
They sat across from each other, the fire between them.
Jang Sun-il, who had been lowering his head for a while, finally looked up.
"May I ask you something?"
"Speak."
"Why are you trying to obtain the Thousand-Year-Old 'He Shou Wu'? They say properly cultivating with it grants tremendous power, but you're already strong enough. I've never heard of skills like yours before. You're terrifyingly strong."
"My niece is sick."
"Oh…"
The mountain boy, quick-witted as he was, slightly parted his lips in surprise. He hadn't expected that answer.
"And you? Why are you trying to eat dirt?"
Jung Yeonshin asked quietly.
"My family was wiped out by demonic faction bastards. When I came home, all I found were corpses."
"..."
Jang Sun-il spoke in an even tone.
"It's common these days. They come demanding tribute as if they were government soldiers, but when there's no food, they start brandishing their blades at innocent people. We were just scapegoats for a famine. I'm going to find them and take revenge. The soil where the Thousand-Year-Old 'He Shou Wu' grew should carry quite a bit of energy for me."
His tone was as if he were speaking about someone else's story.
The Radiant Demon Squad's leader silently took in Jang Sun-il's expression.
"Do you know which sect they were from?"
"I don't. I don't know if they were mere drifters who lived off scraps or proper warriors from some esteemed sect. But they are my irreconcilable enemies. I'll meet them someday. I have to."
The boy muttered.
Jung Yeonshin suddenly thought of the Blood Flame Cult and the Tyrant Sword Tribe.
'The Blood Flame Cult has been running rampant.'
He wasn't particularly curious about why the Seventh Apostle was here.
Ever since he had received her favor, he hadn't known how to deal with her. That was the only thing that troubled him.
The enmity and debts of the martial world swirled like the rapids of the Yangtze River, opaque and turbulent.
Now, he finally understood.
Only after becoming deeply entangled with someone who carried both grace and enmity in equal measure.
'…If not for her, I would have died in the City of Master Craftsmen, along with everyone else.'
His uncle, Returning Wings Squad, and his benefactor in Radiant Demon Squad—all were good. What was he supposed to do?
It was then.
"You're using fire."
"You must be quite confident."
A man and a woman's voices rang out. They came from beyond the fire's glow, out of the darkness.
Step.
Unhurried footsteps followed.
Two figures approached together, stepping into the light as if parting the soft radiance of the campfire.
The white martial robes they wore stood out starkly against the night air. The hue was strikingly otherworldly.
Their faces were soon revealed.
Twins. A brother and sister, eerily identical.
Their long, pale blue-white hair shimmered with internal energy, and their sharply defined features bore an air of innate authority.
Their somewhat exotic appearances were strikingly beautiful.
"Oh."
A small exclamation slipped from the woman's lips. It came the moment her gaze met Jung Yeonshin's.
"To think I'd find such a sight here. It's like seeing the reincarnation of Ban-ak of Jin. My brother might not know, but I do."
"I've studied as well. Stop pretending you're the only one well-versed in this land's history and politics. In any case, wouldn't it be wiser to look for a fruit cart rather than Spirit Grass? With that face, anyone would throw food your way."
The twin brother cited the Legend of Ban-ak.
His tone was neutral, making it impossible to tell whether he was mocking or speaking sincerely.
"Are you skilled with the sword?"
Jung Yeonshin asked.
The pale-haired man replied calmly.
"My specialty is Staff Techniques. More importantly, may we share your fire? Our internal energy cannot ignite flames, and we've lost our servants… We do not intend to force you."
"We are not like the martial artists of this land. We value courtesy and reason over survival of the fittest. If you refuse, we will leave."
The woman's lips curled slightly as she spoke.
Jung Yeonshin blinked briefly. He hadn't expected such words on a battlefield.
"My elder sister is Bukgung Rin, and I am Bukgung Hu. We come from the place you call the Ice Palace. Shall we exchange names?"
Bukgung Hu asked while standing still.
Jung Yeonshin silently studied their faces.
They had said they would leave if rejected, but they did not seem to expect refusal. The confidence in their demeanor made that clear.
The bearing of rulers.
It was the same presence he had felt at the Blood Flame Cult's Main Hall.
They didn't even consider rubbing sticks together to start their own fire.
"You are disturbing my thoughts. If you do not leave, you will suffer the consequences."
Jung Yeonshin spoke plainly. His voice carried sheer indifference.
There was no Desolate Sacred Warrior here to refine his words.
This was a land teeming with warriors, yet the Radiant Demon Squad's leader remained seated, nonchalant and alone.
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