The day before the Blood Flame Sect's departure from Seojoo was exceptionally bright.
The spring sunlight was very radiant, casting a warm glow on Jeong Yeon-sin's thick eyebrows.
He had just visited the government office to convey news to several seniors.
He informed the seniors of Cheongmyeong who were spread across various regions.
It was something he could do as a member of the main faction.
Ji Hyun showed a troubled expression, saying that it would take time for the message to reach them.
He wanted to send a courier to Shandong, where the main faction was located, but since it involved crossing a province, he couldn't expect swift results. 'It can't be helped.' After leaving the government office, Jeong Yeon-sin had another dilemma to ponder.
It was due to Heon Won-chang's physical discomfort.
He was injured internally.
It wasn't an easy decision to place him on a rough carriage or horse. 'How should I take him?' Jeong Yeon-sin returned to the guesthouse, lost in thought.
On the bed lay the great hero of the Blood Flame Sect, Heon Won-chang, with his eyes slightly squinted.
Before he could even close the door, Heon Won-chang turned his body slightly.
When their eyes met, he smiled and spoke. “I feel like I'm dying.” “I’m worried about the great hero’s condition.” Jeong Yeon-sin replied playfully.
The corners of Heon Won-chang's mouth lifted even higher.
He seemed to never tire of hearing his nickname.
Many commoners were peeking into the guesthouse to catch a glimpse of the great hero, Heon Won-chang. “I’ve become a burden.” “The great hero Geom-ryong is waiting for you.” “Hmm? The lady of the Wiji clan?” Jeong Yeon-sin relayed the conversation he had with her.
Instantly, Heon Won-chang's face twisted in horror.
It looked quite dreadful. “Your heart is as vast as the sea, Jeong so-hyeop. It’s truly touching! But please don’t do that. The Blood Flame Sect is going to war with the Eight Great Families? They must have sent a messenger. Didn’t we witness the might of the Seven Swords last time?” “I lost my eye to them.” Jeong Yeon-sin replied calmly, leaning against the wall.
He slowly continued, fiddling with the sword techniques of the Bukmyeong Sword and the Iphwang Sword. “Just lending a hand will suffice. The masters of the Namgung clan won’t be idle either.” They exchanged a few more words. 'There’s no reason not to do it.' Jeong Yeon-sin had already made up his mind.
It was about achieving merit while protecting his companion's martial arts.
Heon Won-chang could not overcome his stubbornness.
The great hero of the Blood Flame Sect was known as the master Ma Gwang-ik.
Even though he appeared shabby, his sense of battle was exceptional.
The longer they engaged in their verbal sparring, the more Jeong Yeon-sin realized his own composure was dwindling.
“I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my life and now for your martial arts as well.”
Heon Won-chang said, his expression unusually serious as he briefly closed and opened his eyes.
“So, Jeong so-hyeop, your dilemma is this. How will you take this corpse of mine to Huiju?”
“... They say we have about a month, but it won’t be easy to return to Seojoo from Huiju in that time.”
“Don’t worry about that!”
Despite his severe injuries, his voice remained strong.
Heon Won-chang said cheerfully.
“There’s a reason why a martial artist who has fallen into a state of confusion is weak to shocks. It’s due to the uniformity of the energy flow from prolonged training. Adjusting the internal energy as usual can be harmful. I’m so battered that I don’t even realize it.”
“Then?”
“My family has the secret technique of the Turtle Breathing Method. It’s not an ordinary skill. It solidifies the flow of energy and protects the internal pathways, and since it’s an assassination technique, it remains stable even after a long time.”
He mentioned the family technique while referring to assassination techniques. 'The Turtle Breathing Method?' It was said to be a martial art that slowed breathing and heartbeats while concealing energy.
It was a hidden art displayed even in the martial arts of Iphwangseong.
Assassination techniques.
Jeong Yeon-sin repeated in his mind.
It was absurd to think that an assassin could establish a family.
However, it was plausible that an assassin who washed his hands with gold powder and left the martial world could exist.
Since it was the first time Heon Won-chang had mentioned anything about his family, Jeong Yeon-sin nodded without showing any reaction.
A strange sense of relief seemed to glimmer in Heon Won-chang's eyes.
He slowly continued speaking. “As long as there’s a breathing hole, it doesn’t matter where I’m buried. The shaking of the carriage is trivial. You don’t need to worry about me. Jeong so-hyeop, just focus on your own martial arts.” “If the injured can hide safely... if there are no issues with the escort, it would indeed be reassuring.” “Of course! The Blood Flame Sect will not become a burden to anyone!” Heon Won-chang laughed heartily, but it seemed like blood was rising in his throat.
Shaking his head, Jeong Yeon-sin detached himself from the wall and left the room again.
After stopping by the government office to borrow a fine horse and carriage, he explained the situation to Wiji Myo-hwa.
Her expression darkened at the mention of the Turtle Breathing Method.
She was the successor of the Gu faction, the pinnacle of the righteous martial arts.
She wouldn’t welcome assassination techniques. “... You two are heroes, aren’t you? I will support the rear.” Fortunately, Wiji Myo-hwa had a large heart.
She was a great hero who did not judge people by their martial arts.
Jeong Yeon-sin expressed his gratitude with a bow.
Thus, the three of them, along with a half-corpse, set out on the road.
The distance from Seojoo to Huiju was not short.
It was the northern and southern ends of Namjikrye.
This time, they encountered many bandits.
They were not the green forest bandits of the martial world.
Due to the famine, commoners had taken to using plows to harm others.
Moreover, it was said that the disasters were not limited to famine.
Perhaps due to the uprising of the Blood Flame Sect, the closer they got to Huiju, the more bandits appeared. “What do the bandits eat to survive? They sink their teeth into the backs of commoners.” Surprisingly, it was Wiji Myo-hwa who said this.
When it came to discussing the Blood Flame Sect, her eyes sharpened.
It seemed their bond had grown a bit closer during the not-so-short journey.
As long as the bandits did not threaten their lives, they repeatedly intimidated them into letting them pass.
Before long, they reached their destination. “We’ve arrived.” Wiji Myo-hwa said.
The two of them had indeed buried Heon Won-chang in a nearby land.
They had to expect fierce battles, which was why they did so.
Jeong Yeon-sin gazed beyond the entrance of the gorge, where guards stood watch.
It was the boundary between the landowners and Huiju.
It was said to be called Cheongyagok.
He could occasionally feel the distant clashes of martial energies.
It seemed it was not an ordinary scale of battle. “You there.” The figures in the distance approached.
Five of them had red hair.
Even before they got close, their identities were clear.
One of them stepped forward, a man with a bald head and a square jaw.
The energy he emitted was quite strong, suggesting he was a common disciple on the verge of mastering the Blood Flame Sect's sword techniques.
Some might mistake him for a master of the sect.
He opened his mouth. “Your appearance is quite unusual for a bunch of lowly folks. With such fine horses and carriages. Leave everything you have here and go back.” A well-kept carriage was a luxury item.
It was easy to assume that they had ample traveling money.
The bandits they had encountered during their journey had thought the same.
However, the Blood Flame Sect members stopped about ten paces away.
They did not come any closer.
They maintained a thorough distance. 'Indeed, they must be from the Thirteen Sects.' Jeong Yeon-sin thought.
They were quite perceptive.
It seemed they sensed something from Jeong Yeon-sin and Wiji Myo-hwa.
Some of the bandits they had encountered earlier were different.
They had recklessly approached Wiji Myo-hwa, only to be thrown back. “Rough yellow... blue...?” Another one, who had been sidestepping, muttered.
He was sharp-eyed.
Their conversation opened up. “The blue of Iphwangseong? At that age?” “He must be from a prestigious family. He probably grew up swallowing elixirs like food. Be careful of a single strike. His power must be tremendous. We could die in an instant.” “That’s all. We can just crush him with our skills. The prey is truly excellent.” They began chattering among themselves.
This was the true face of the Blood Flame Sect.
They valued the energy they could absorb more than their own lives.
They were already making assumptions about Jeong Yeon-sin’s appearance. 'They don’t know me.' A strange light flickered in Jeong Yeon-sin's eyes.
It seemed he had discovered a weakness of the Blood Flame Sect.
They were common disciples, not masters of the Blood Flame Sect.
They were like fire ants, far more numerous than the sect's masters.
It was said that a cult of fanatics had a strict hierarchy.
When commanded from above, the subordinates would act.
There was no freedom.
News did not easily circulate among them.
The bandits began to approach with large strides.
Eventually, one even used lightness skill to dash forward.
It seemed to say that whoever caught him first would be the master.
Wiji Myo-hwa stepped forward.
The moment her palm struck the solar plexus of the leading bandit, waves of energy surged from the gap.
Bang! Dust exploded in all directions.
The powerful wave of energy swept through, even scratching the rocks.
The bandits who had rushed in together were thrown back helplessly.
Jeong Yeon-sin dashed forward, piercing through the aftermath of Namgung Se-ga's Biyun Cheonggangsu.
He realized that a battle between the Namgung clan and the Blood Flame Sect was about to unfold right before him.
Without hesitation, he extended his left hand and grabbed one bandit's face.
It was the bald man who was closest to the Blood Flame Sect's sword techniques. “Gah!” Recently, the only part of Jeong Yeon-sin that could hint at his age was his face.
His body, honed through the righteous martial arts, had matured with the passage of time.
He had been growing remarkably in recent times.
His physique was already close to adulthood.
His fingers, wrapped around the bandit's face, were long enough.
It meant he could run while holding the face of an adult man.
Boom! A storm erupted beneath his feet as he stomped the ground.
The moment he pushed off the earth, he felt it.
The distinct energy from the thighs on either side surged forth.
It had begun.
Bang! He ran while holding onto the bandit's face.
The scenery of the gorge ahead scattered like hundreds of lines.
Wham! The wind that swept past his ears was incredibly fierce.
To achieve a remarkable feat, it had to be splendid.
He had thought about it for a long time.
Jeong Yeon-sin created a whirlwind with his lightness skill and drew his sword.
The sunlight danced along the waves flowing from the blade, shimmering silver.
It was merely a moment before he entered the battlefield.
The area below the gorge was as wide as a plain.
Hundreds of people were bustling about, showcasing their martial prowess.
An overwhelming display of martial arts created an atmosphere akin to a war with thousands of soldiers.
He didn’t care.
Jeong Yeon-sin leaped down and threw the bandit he was holding.
Boom! “What, what is this?” “Who is this guy?” It was a protective stance wrapped in the unique aura of a noble clan.
Jeong Yeon-sin's blue robe fluttered like a celestial garment.
Whoosh! At that moment, the sound of the Bukmyeong Sword began to resonate.
The Blood Flame Sect members who had tormented him for so long began to bleed and fall.
Boom! He deliberately stomped the ground hard.
The thick dust that spread was immediately torn apart by the storm of energy.
After landing, he dashed again.
Following the flow of the Bukmyeong Sword, the battlefield twisted in an instant.
It was as if an invisible whirlwind had spread, causing people to scatter in all directions.
Most of them died instantly.
The power he displayed was not something that could be attributed to his martial arts level.
The sword techniques he had previously adjusted did not claim any victims from the Namgung clan.
He pierced straight through the battlefield.
In no time, he reached a spot where the leaders of the Namgung clan could be seen.
Various emotions flickered across the faces of a handsome man with a kind expression, a lively woman with a bronze complexion, and several elderly men with overwhelming auras.
It was then that he heard, “Ma Gwang-ik, you’ve returned safely.” “Your face, which seemed to have lost its spirit, looks kind, but you’ve brought back strange martial arts.” When he turned around, familiar faces were smiling.
They knew Jeong Yeon-sin's identity.
Blood Flame Sect members with glossy black and red hair.
The energy they emitted together was extraordinary.
Jeong Yeon-sin silently stared at them.
A vivid scene unfolded before his eyes.
There was no way he could forget it.
It was the moment he had fled for the first time in his life.
He understood the expressions of disdain on their faces.
They were the ones who had stood at the forefront during the Yongbong Gathering and thrown thunderbolts at Jeong Yeon-sin.
Each one of them was filled with madness.
They seemed indifferent to how many common disciples died. “Did you think something would come of being with the Namgung clan?” one of them said, holding a thunderbolt in his hand as if it were a memorized line.
The martial artists around them flinched at the ominous energy.
At the moment the Yongbong Gathering had fallen apart, Jeong Yeon-sin had been just like them, at the Yeonhwa Pavilion in Huiju.
Step.
This time was different.
Jeong Yeon-sin did not stop advancing.
He knew without looking back that the top masters of the Namgung clan were watching him.
He slowly parted his lips. “You guys. You should know for sure.” At the same time he sheathed the Bukmyeong Sword, he drew the Iphwang Sword, familiar in his hand.
The flow between the sheathed and drawn sword was smooth.
It was the demeanor of a master anyone could recognize.
The blade of the Iphwang Sword naturally revealed itself, beginning to absorb the sunlight.
He adjusted his grip on the sword once more.
The cold sensation quickly turned warm. “You rebels who throw the first strike are the ones guilty. I have no sins.” Jeong Yeon-sin said calmly.