To be disregarded by a boy so young—it was outrageous. Especially coming from a woman who had used the word "you" so dismissively upon first meeting him.

Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself: there was no way a noblewoman with such high status in martial arts would simply let this slide.

“Yes, I am indeed his mother. My name is Ju Yeon-jeong.”

She smiled warmly as she spoke, and the sudden shift in her demeanor was somewhat shocking.

‘Ju Clan?’

Her refined elegance evoked a peculiar association in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind. He immediately asked, “Are you a member of the imperial family?”

“That’s correct.”

Even after hearing her answer, it was difficult to comprehend. Ma Se-in’s father was also a collateral descendant, yet no one as exceptional as he, capable of marrying into the imperial family, had ever become widely known.

He couldn’t even begin to guess what kind of circumstances might have led to this.

“You seem confused,” Ju Yeon-jeong said, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Few in this fortress know my background. It’s understandable.”

Her jade ornaments tied her hair in an elegant bun, and her round Han lineage features were unmistakable. She was likely from a distant collateral branch of the imperial family.

The last emperor to accept a consort into the palace had been the dynasty’s founder, who had over forty concubines.

But for direct imperial descendants, the rules were different—they were said to take only one noblewoman as their spouse, avoiding consorts or mistresses entirely.

However, the countless collateral descendants of the imperial family were free to do as they pleased, taking multiple wives or concubines as they saw fit. Ju Yeon-jeong appeared to be the daughter of such a man.

“Greetings, Lady Ju.”

Jeong Yeon-shin performed a formal bow but did not kneel. After all, it was said that those who married into another family were considered outsiders.

Even if she carried the faintest trace of the founding emperor’s bloodline, she was no longer a figure of the imperial palace. Having left Beijing through marriage, she was now part of the Ma Clan—a martial family, no less.

“A bold young man.”

Ju Yeon-jeong’s lips curled into a smile.

Jeong Yeon-shin raised his head calmly. Her reaction was unexpected. From her earlier tone, he had assumed she was someone desperate to secure her son’s claim to succession. Perhaps she was different from what he had imagined.

The other members of the Ma Clan, seated quietly around them, also refrained from any reckless behavior. They simply observed Jeong Yeon-shin in silence.

“Please, take a seat. This gathering is for you,” Ju Yeon-jeong said.

“…In that case, I will accept.”

Jeong Yeon-shin gave a slight nod and sat at the table prepared for him. Ma Se-in followed him, slipping into a seat beside his mother.

Musicians entered the hall. Thanks to the spaciousness of the wing, they began playing from a distance, their melodies filling the air.

The elegant tunes had a timeless quality, elevating the atmosphere of the gathering.

“I wanted to test your composure,” Ju Yeon-jeong said, breaking the silence.

“Having lived outside Beijing for twenty years, I find that my mannerisms still carry an authority that can unintentionally unsettle others. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

Her words were unconventional. Jeong Yeon-shin paused, momentarily silent.

‘What is this?’

This gathering was far removed from what he had anticipated. What was her true intent?

The sound of plucked strings and the echo of bamboo flutes created a tranquil backdrop, yet the silence in the hall felt heavy.

To the untrained, it might have seemed peaceful, but in the world of martial arts experts, it was different.

Jeong Yeon-shin could feel the constant streams of Qi scanning him from all directions. Subtle and restrained, they were detectable only because of his own heightened senses. Still, he chose not to react.

“What is the purpose of this gathering?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked openly.

Both sides were masking their intentions, but it was the Ma Clan who had initiated this meeting. He saw no reason to lower himself.

A faint smile appeared on Ju Yeon-jeong’s lips.

“I’ve grown accustomed to speaking in circles, but I still find the directness of martial artists unfamiliar,” she said. “Many have praised you, calling you the pillar of Ipwang Fortress… and it seems their words weren’t exaggerated. They say Ma Gwang-ik’s Seomye is truly brave.”

“…”

“I’ve heard that your martial arts are exceptional, unmatched among your peers. Naturally, I have many questions. How did someone from the relatively humble Jeong Clan come to acquire such skill? And…”

She reached for a white jade bottle, her smile deepening.

“During your recognition ceremony—why did you refuse the position of heir to your maternal family?”

With just a few words, Ju Yeon-jeong revealed much. Jeong Yeon-shin gleaned two key insights from her statements.

The first was about martial arts. Clearly, many were curious about the origins of Seomye’s abilities.

It was no surprise. After all, he had risen to Blue Rank at a record pace, becoming the youngest to do so.

He had often displayed his techniques before his peers, and none of them were from the Ma Clan’s martial repertoire. This had been true even before he received personal training from the Fortress Lord.

His recent missions likely only deepened the mystery. The Fortress Lord’s decision to personally carry him back had not gone unnoticed.

‘Why did you carry me all the way back to the fortress, Lord?’

Though grateful, even in his heart, Jeong Yeon-shin found it hard to suppress his frustration.

The second insight, however, was likely the real reason for this gathering.

“You asked about my intentions,” Jeong Yeon-shin began calmly.

“I believe I made myself clear that day. My path lies within the martial world and Ipwang Fortress, not the so-called noble lineage of my maternal family. Ma Se-in will undoubtedly make an excellent clan leader.”

“Such a bold character you have.”

Ju Yeon-jeong covered her mouth as she laughed, her refined demeanor unshaken.

Jeong Yeon-shin regarded her quietly. She had referred to the Ma Clan as her “main family.”

A distant branch of the imperial family had fully integrated into the Ma Clan, taking on the role of its matron.

‘This is good.’

With this, there was no need to antagonize her unnecessarily. Drawing boundaries would suffice.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke again, making it clear his words were far from over.

“Therefore, I ask that I not be involved with your family any further. What I want is a clean break. Such a resolution will prevent needless conflict.”

For a moment, the room fell silent. Ju Yeon-jeong’s smile disappeared, and Ma Se-in’s expression stiffened.

In the now-quiet hall, only the soft music of the instruments filled the space. The reaction was peculiar.

‘Shouldn’t they be the ones requesting this break?’

Jeong Yeon-shin wondered but continued speaking, unperturbed by the tense atmosphere.

“Your clan has already severed ties with my mother. Answer me now. Or I will speak publicly, cutting into the Ma Clan’s honor before all of Ipwang Fortress.”

He had deliberately used harsh words. Yet, Ju Yeon-jeong’s expression remained one of confusion rather than offense.

“…How can you think that way?” she asked. “Do you believe that the martial arts passed down to you by the Fortress Lord will shield your authority? You’re mistaken. Ipwang Fortress doesn’t work that way.”

“I will live entirely as a warrior of Ma Gwang-ik’s faction. All I ask is that the name of the Ma Clan not be attached to the title of Seomye. Surely, that’s not unreasonable for you, Lady Ju?”

“…You speak so calmly of something so difficult,” she said slowly.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’ve already stepped into the Ma Clan’s political strife. The moment you stood out as a member of this family with such remarkable talent, it was inevitable. There are those who insist you should be the heir, others who want to wield you as a sword to elevate the Ma Clan’s status, and still others… like us.”

Her faint smile returned, tinged with resignation.

“Either way, it’s the same. Severing ties with the Ma Clan will only spark greater turmoil. To avoid backlash, they’ll stop at nothing to hold on to you.”

“How amusing,” Jeong Yeon-shin said, his tone cold.

“You are the Fortress Lord’s direct disciple, are you not? Your existence is already too significant. Even if you speak of severing ties, the Ma Clan will cling to your coattails.”

“This seat is unbearable.”

Jeong Yeon-shin stood abruptly, turning on his heel without regard for decorum. No one shouted or protested his actions.

If martial prowess was the measure of politics in this room, then these were masters of their craft.

The unchanged melody of the musicians followed him as he left.

***

Seven Nights Passed

Jeong Yeon-shin spent seven nights recovering at Ma Gwang-ik’s residence. Yet, the faces of Ju Yeon-jeong and the elders of the Ma Clan lingered in his mind.

Their schemes were far from shallow. They had brought forth a conflict unlike any he had ever experienced—a battle of wills waged by those wielding great power to entangle him at all costs.

It was a significant problem.

“What should I do…”

He lay on his bedding, lost in thought. His initial plan had been to provoke them into conflict and become irreconcilable enemies. If he could experience the martial arts of their prestigious family along the way, that would have been enough.

But now, he had changed his mind.

Their expertise and cunning far surpassed his own. They were prepared to endure and manipulate any situation.

This was an entirely different kind of struggle.

Those in power were obstructing his path, proving that his earlier concerns had been justified.

Accepting support from the Ma Clan would cost him far more in time and entanglements than it was worth.

For a moment, he considered revealing his unique constitution and shortened lifespan to his grandfather.

“I can’t trust them.”

He quickly dismissed the thought.

He had been treated as nonexistent in the Jeong household. His maternal family had never extended a helping hand during his upbringing.

Then, as he ventured into the martial world, he saw the Hwangbo Clan for what they were—proclaiming themselves as pillars of orthodox martial arts, yet wielding their power for personal gain.

The Namgung Clan, revered as the greatest righteous family, had tried to betray him despite his aid, using him as a scapegoat for their schemes.

And in the Blood Flame Cult, he had witnessed humanity at its worst—a bottomless abyss.

Distrust. Only distrust remained.

“He’s aiming for the Elder Council Leader position?”

His grandfather sought power, attempting to claim Jeong Yeon-shin as his grandson despite severing ties with his daughter.

It was opportunism, plain and simple. The Ma Clan would undoubtedly exploit his weaknesses if they discovered them.

“Should I seek the Fortress Lord? Would incurring more debts be better? I need to build my achievements.”

The sixteen-year-old martial prodigy wrestled with these thoughts.

He turned over in his bedding. Even the faint glow of the twilight sky felt blinding.

The quarters at Ma Gwang-ik’s residence were his sanctuary—a place where he could drop his martial vigilance without worrying about prying eyes.

Here, he didn’t have to avoid the reality of his limited time.

He slowly curled up, as he always did.

Staring blankly at the orange remnants of the setting sun, he didn’t know how much time had passed when—

“Jeong So-hyeop! Jeong So-hyeop!”

A familiar voice broke through his thoughts. It was Hyeon Won-chang’s voice.

The powerful aura that accompanied it surged toward Ma Gwang-ik’s residence, and the presence of his senior warriors was unmistakable.

Those who had escorted the Fortress Lord and Jeong Yeon-shin were returning.

The door slid open.

Three figures entered: Hyeon Won-chang, Cheongmyeong, and Baek Mi-ryeo.

Already sitting up, Jeong Yeon-shin greeted them with a faint smile.

These were the comrades who had come to rescue him from the Blood Flame Cult’s main base. He welcomed them warmly.

“What’s going on?” Hyeon Won-chang asked, studying him intently.

Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated before slowly parting his lips.

For some reason, he thought to himself: If even these comrades couldn’t be trusted, then perhaps he shouldn’t cling so tightly to this life.

There were no drinks to share, but the serene air of dusk felt like a substitute for wine and appetizers.

As Jeong Yeon-shin began to speak, Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo immediately raised internal energy barriers around them—a Qi Curtain—to ensure no sound escaped.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke candidly.

He shared his family history, his unique constitution, the limited time he had left, and the entanglements with the Ma Clan.

A heavy silence followed, as tranquil as the setting sun.

By the time he finished, Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo wore expressionless faces, their emotions unreadable.

Hyeon Won-chang, however, shed silent tears.

After sniffling once, the senior warrior spoke.

“First things first, let’s visit the Ma Clan. I’ve come up with a plan.”

“What?”

“Just hear me out.”

Hyeon Won-chang leaned in, whispering for a considerable time, even with the sturdy Qi Curtains in place.

His demeanor was almost conspiratorial.

It was, in fact, a scheme.

“Let’s go!”

Wiping his reddened eyes with his sleeve, Hyeon Won-chang stood, and the other three followed suit.

Cheongmyeong patted Jeong Yeon-shin on the shoulder, and Baek Mi-ryeo gave him a brief, reassuring embrace from behind.

Nothing more needed to be said. It was the concern of comrades who had shared life-and-death moments, the understanding of warriors who lived by their blades.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head awkwardly but followed Hyeon Won-chang’s lead. For a brief moment, he truly felt like the youngest member of the group.

The four of them arrived at the Ma Clan’s quarters without delay.

Two guards stepped forward.

“State your name and purpose.”

“No need. Jeong So-hyeop is here. Open the gates,” Hyeon Won-chang declared loudly, ignoring the guards entirely.

“Yeon-jeong-ah─!”

The name rang out, amplified by his Qi. The booming voice reverberated through the twilight air, shaking the night.

Few knew the details of Ju Yeon-jeong’s origins. There were undoubtedly reasons for such secrecy, but considerations like that didn’t matter to Ma Gwang-ik’s warriors.

“After all, we’re under the Fortress Lord. Even the Crown Prince can’t handle us, so what’s a married-off branch imperial relative?” Cheongmyeong quipped, grinning as he stomped lightly on the ground.

It was already widely known that Cheong-an Divine Sword was of pure imperial descent.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“Do you even know who you’re calling out to?”

The guards, flustered, hurried over. Hyeon Won-chang executed a stealthy movement technique, dodging their grasp while continuing to shout Ju Yeon-jeong’s name.

A strange commotion unfolded in the dead of night.

Jeong Yeon-shin subtly turned his body away, pretending not to know the group.