How long had he been adrift in the pitch-black haze?

Suddenly, he felt sunlight. It was white and dazzling. Simultaneously, it felt as though a deep, soft cotton mass was gently pushing his soul awake.

“Ugh.”

He groaned, though the sound came out fragmented.

The sensation of the bedding was familiar. It had the distinct softness characteristic of Ma Gwang-ik’s quarters.

The air smelled similarly familiar. Warm and comforting, it carried a sense of security.

Ah.

As soon as he regained awareness of his consciousness, a sharp clarity spread through his mind, like a flash of light. He instinctively began piecing together the elapsed time.

It was a habit ingrained in him by now.

From the Yongbong Gathering to the Hwangbo Clan, rescuing Hyeon Won-chang and aiding his recovery in Nanjili, and infiltrating the Blood Flame Cult’s main base right under the noses of the Namgung Clan scoundrels.

Even just the travel time was staggering, and the weight of the incidents piled on top of it made it even more so.

The time spent: eighty-seven days.
The lifespan consumed by Swordstorm Arc: roughly fifteen days.

How long had his return journey taken after that?

He gauged the hunger gnawing at him. Though his stomach felt empty, it wasn’t unbearable. His body, while weakened, wasn’t in a dire state.

Internally, he surveyed his condition. Blood vessels, Qi channels, the Eight Extraordinary Meridians, the Twelve Standard Meridians, and even his three Danjeon.

Their intensity and elasticity were greatly diminished. The recoil from transforming the Dual Blood Spirit Array into a Demonic Suppression Formation had likely taken its toll.

The strain on his Baihui Point, connected to the upper Danjeon, was even more pronounced.

I need time to recover.

To regain his optimal condition, rest and patience were necessary.

“Are you awake? I sense movement.”

The voice, deep and resonant, carried a raw power that seemed to radiate without effort. The overwhelming presence alone betrayed the speaker’s status as a formidable expert.

There was no mistaking it.

The familiar tone, coupled with a subtle deference rooted in blood ties, belonged to Ma Jun, the elder whose gaze often sought out his nephew.

“Yes, Great Master. Please, come in.”

“Very well.”

The door creaked open.

A towering man stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His muscular build was evident even beneath his black robes, and his face bore scars that spoke of countless battles.

This was Ma Gwang-ik, the man whose renown had only grown after annihilating the Hwangbo Clan’s main house.

Jeong Yeon-shin regarded his uncle with renewed appreciation. In the chaos after being captured by the Seventh Apostle, he had resigned himself to the possibility of never seeing him again.

“How are you feeling? You must’ve clashed with the Hwangbo Clan’s leader.”

Jeong Yeon-shin scanned Ma Jun’s body as he asked.

Ma Jun sat on the edge of the bed, his piercing gaze resting on his nephew.

“It was war, so of course I wasn’t alone. The clan leader was incredibly skilled, wielding secret techniques I’d never seen before. I fought alongside Lord Myeolseom, and even then, it took over seventy exchanges before I could sever his head. I healed my internal injuries during the return journey. What about you?”

“My Qi is flowing fine. My blood circulation is stable, and I’ll be back to full health with some meals and rest. However…”

“Yes?”

“What’s today’s date?”

“…Five days before the summer solstice.”

The fifteenth of June.

Jeong Yeon-shin closed his eyes briefly. This marked the halfway point of his sixteenth year.

Three years and six months remained. The fifteen days of lifespan spent using Swordstorm Arc would need to be accounted for.

He straightened his torso using his abdominal muscles.

“I’ve undertaken a lot of solo missions. I must report directly to the central office.”

“There’s no rush. Those who went to attack the Blood Flame Cult’s main base are still making their way back. Also…” Ma Jun hesitated briefly. “When I returned, the fortress was already in turmoil. The Fortress Lord himself carried you back. It seems he used his full Lightness Skill.”

“And?”

“The central office is known for its rigor, but even they wouldn’t demand an immediate report after witnessing such a scene. Take your time. Rest.”

“I understand.”

Despite his words, Jeong Yeon-shin rose fully from the bed. His actions betrayed his stated intent to recuperate.

He couldn’t suppress the urge to visit the central office and finalize the reckoning of his contributions.

As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, Ma Jun was startled into moving aside.

“…What do you think you’re doing?”

“Lying down isn’t the only way to recover. A little sunlight and the late spring breeze will do wonders.”

“What? You’re no noble fop.”

Ignoring his uncle’s attempt to follow, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped out of the inner quarters.

As soon as he stepped outside, he came to a halt. The seniors of Ma Gwang-ik Hall, noticing his presence, approached him with smiles.

“You’re awake, Seomye.”

“Feeling alright?”

“We heard your journey was quite eventful. Care to share some tales?”

“More importantly, is it true the Fortress Lord carried you back? Did you feel his legendary protective aura? How fast was it?”

It had been a while since he’d experienced this.

The seniors, clad in blue uniforms, often showed an interest in their youngest member’s missions.

While Jeong Yeon-shin’s recent advancement to Blue Rank and the induction of Shin So-bin had freed him from the lowest rung, the seniors still saw him as their junior.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s goal was clear: to rise to Purple Rank, the rank of Sword Corps Captain.

The Blue Rank warriors were the backbone of Ipwang Fortress, and maintaining their respect was vital.

He responded to their inquiries as they walked him toward the Grand Martial Training Ground.

As more seniors gathered, the conversations grew livelier.

“The fortress has indeed grown restless. The Fortress Lord personally bringing back Seomye was a major incident.”

“Anything else happen?”

Jeong Yeon-shin asked, prompting another senior to answer.

“The world of martial arts is descending further into chaos. The seventeen squads are severely short-handed, and the families under the fortress’s jurisdiction are competing fiercely for honor. Even your maternal family, the Ipwang Ma Clan, is involved.”

Even while discussing his family, their words were blunt.

And why wouldn’t they be? Blue Rank warriors of Ipwang Fortress were formidable martial artists who commanded respect wherever they went.

Their exceptional prowess was matched only by their forthrightness. With a single sword, they could stand against a hundred foes.

After exchanging words with his seniors and placating their curiosity with promises of future discussions, Jeong Yeon-shin headed straight to the central office.

“Are you Jeong Yeon-shin of Ma Gwang-ik Hall?”

“Yes.”

A clerk managing the registry confirmed his identity by inspecting his Ipwang Badge.

The golden badge bore a distinct wood grain pattern with the inscription Seomye (閃藝) engraved beneath it.

Seomye was no longer merely a nickname. It was a title formally bestowed upon him during the customary ceremony by the Fortress Lord.

The clerk handed the badge back with an air of respect.

“Seomye, please state your purpose.”

“Mission report and contribution assessment.”

For a moment, the clerk’s eyes glimmered with recognition.

“Understood.”

Jeong Yeon-shin stepped into the large hall, the scent of ink immediately wafting toward him.

The elongated desks were steeped in an antique elegance, with scribes seated at each one, their brushes furiously scribbling across scrolls and papers.

The hall was vast—large enough to rival any martial training ground. At least dozens of scribes were working diligently within its expanse.

The atmosphere was as stern and disciplined as Ma Jun had described. Despite lacking the martial prowess of warriors, the scribes carried an air of authority and precision.

At the far end of the hall, a man seated in the place of honor caught his attention. Jeong Yeon-shin transmitted a sound transmission toward him.

—This is Jeong Yeon-shin from Ma Gwang-ik’s faction. I’ve come to report on my mission…

The man, clad in a brown robe, rose to his feet immediately.

He was a middle-aged man with a thick, jet-black beard, and his reaction was swift and decisive.

“This way, please!” he called out, his booming voice resonating throughout the hall. He extended his hand in an almost exaggerated display of courtesy.

It was as if he were entirely unfazed by the weighty atmosphere of the central office. Could this man really be the head of the central office?

The Grand Administrator of Ipwang Fortress was said to be a man who could even scold Black Rank warriors over budgets and personnel. Jeong Yeon-shin found himself momentarily doubtful.

But clarity soon struck him.

This is why I received martial training directly from the Fortress Lord.

All eyes turned toward him for a moment.

The scribes, momentarily distracted, began murmuring among themselves before returning to their tasks.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t move immediately. His experience in the martial world had taught him restraint, especially after losing duels in the past. Learning how to navigate these social waters was critical.

“Greetings to the pillars of this fortress. This is Jeong Yeon-shin from Ma Gwang-ik’s faction,” he said, cupping his fists respectfully toward the scribes.

It was said that warriors often looked down on those who wielded pens instead of swords. However, Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t afford to act the same. He was still young, and those who controlled appointments and evaluations were as powerful as monarchs in their own right.

The silence was brief. The scribes, having stood up, returned the gesture respectfully.

Their expressions were mixed. Jeong Yeon-shin’s status as the direct disciple of the Fortress Lord was an anomaly—traditionally, only members of the royal family could hold such a title.

It was rare for scribes to be greeted first by a warrior bearing the golden emblem of the Fortress Lord’s elite.

Good.

This was enough. Sowing even the smallest seed of goodwill was sufficient for now.

Jeong Yeon-shin turned and followed the Grand Administrator, the whispers behind him growing fainter as they walked. The administrator’s expression was hard to read as he guided him.

The two soon entered another office in an annex. The administrator gestured for him to take a seat.

“Would you care for some Dragon Well Tea?” the man asked.

“I’d be grateful,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied politely.

The administrator summoned a servant to prepare the tea and took the opportunity to study Jeong Yeon-shin. His large frame and high vantage point added to his imposing presence.

Though he was the head of the central office, Jeong Yeon-shin could sense the faint but palpable aura of someone who had trained in martial arts. It wasn’t the demeanor of someone skilled in flattery or superficiality.

“Wait a moment.”

The administrator opened a drawer and pulled out a bundle of papers. It was almost as thick as a book, densely filled with handwritten text.

After skimming the contents briefly, he began to speak.

“The Yongbong Gathering, the mission at the Hwangbo Clan’s branch in Pyeongeum County, your movements across Shandong and Nanjili to destroy Blood Flame Cult bases, and the subjugation of blood demons before the Namgung Clan.”

He continued, “All of these have been thoroughly documented. Numerous witnesses, including Shin So-bin, the White Rank warrior, have submitted their reports. Additionally, two regional branch leaders and letters from Cheong-an Divine Sword and One Lotus Sword were received. Even the Zhongnan Sect’s Sword Dragon sent a message.”

“…Are you saying these matters have already been settled in terms of evaluation?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked, his tone calm and composed.

“That’s correct. A simple cross-verification is all that remains for you to receive your rewards as a Blue Rank warrior,” the administrator replied, a wide smile spreading across his face.

He continued at a leisurely pace, “However, regarding the events at the Blood Flame Cult’s main base, we haven’t received direct instructions from the Fortress Lord yet. A formal report will be required, which will take time. But before that…”

He paused briefly, letting the moment hang in the air.

“Let us discuss the rewards that have already been decided. Fifty silver nyang, a uniform woven entirely from Celestial Silk, the right to request martial training directly from the Sword Corps Captain, top-grade elixirs from the fortress’s stores… Naturally, you may choose among these. If there’s anything specific you’d like, feel free to mention it.”

“The elixirs,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied without hesitation.

The administrator’s eyes widened slightly.

“Hm? That’s not what I meant.”

“…Pardon?”

“I was asking whether you would like to take the elixirs now or have them stored in the Medicine Hall. Even if you choose the latter, you can retrieve them anytime. The Medicine Hall Master is renowned for their skills and can preserve the pills in optimal condition. Free from humidity or temperature issues, they’ll be as potent as the day they were created.”

“…I see. Thank you for the clarification.”

At Jeong Yeon-shin’s response, the administrator chuckled.

“All of it is yours, of course. Everything I mentioned belongs to you.”