A portion of the outer wall surrounding the Desolate Fortress had been scorched to ash. Yet the air remained calm. Only the occasional curses of the Iron Clan craftsmen and the faint haze of dust drifted by.
“…Materials are running short now. Especially bricks, so rather than patching them up with pretty substitutes, we'll have to fill them with earthen walls. Let's ask if anyone in the Divine Sword Division is good at Scorching Yang Art.”
“How short are they?”
“Just as short as the Purple Ranks' ability to discern a person's duty and reason.”
“None at all? Then tear it off the Ma Family's wall.”
“Strike the Ma Family…!”
Short figures holding hammers melt into the sunset. Around that time, the young man Gongya Su set foot inside the fortress for the first time.
Step.
Eight years had passed since Jeong Yeonshin had blessed him with the words that he was as hard as a stone. He had trained with an unyielding will that could not be worn down, and at last, this was now.
“Truly, it is deeply moving.”
If you wish to rebuke the world with a single sword, then serve the Desolate Fortress. Even high officials and nobles will watch your mood.
That saying.
Even after the imperial dynasty changed, it remained the same. The Desolate Fortress was still the cradle of martial arts that made the hearts of newcomers to the Jianghu surge.