Shortly after Jeong Yeon-shin and the Seventh Apostle began their peculiar wager, he focused on reaching the destination as quickly as possible.
Without exchanging a word, Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin galloped their steeds through the landscape for what felt like hours.
Only the relentless pounding of hooves and the fierce wind hitting their faces accompanied them.
“...Jeong So-hyeop, you look like you’ve lost your appetite,” Namgung Hwa-shin commented.
“Namgung So-hyeop doesn’t look too different,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied.
Even when they stopped briefly to let their horses rest and chewed on jerky, tension filled the air. Their senses were constantly heightened.
Whenever Jeong Yeon-shin glanced back, the distant figure of the Seventh Apostle came into view, smiling. Her beautiful yet sinister smile sent chills down his spine.
Both Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin, as seasoned martial artists, had finely honed senses.
But neither of them underestimated the Seventh Apostle, a master lurking at a distance of three hundred jang (approximately 900 meters).
At night, they took turns keeping watch.
On one hazy evening, Jeong Yeon-shin drew his Ipwang Sword.
It was a silent, dark night.
Above, countless stars lay subdued by the darkness, and the moon was partially veiled by translucent gray clouds.
The faint moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the forest clearing in a serene glow.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought briefly of Cheongmyeong.
Swish.
His body moved lightly, a faint breeze stirred beneath his toes, and in the next moment, he vanished into a soundless sprint.
He moved through the night as if blending into the air itself.
‘She’s asleep.’
He found her quickly. The Seventh Apostle lay curled up on a wide tree branch, draped in her loose red Pureblood Robe.
She seemed to be sleeping, her body relaxed beneath the fabric.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze grew cold. If she were feigning sleep, she would likely notice him immediately.
Without hesitation, he launched his attack. One decisive strike was all he needed.
The Yongcheon Acupoint in the sole of his foot silently exploded with true qi, propelling him upward like a storm.
Whish!
In an instant, he reached her eye level, close enough to feel her slow, even breaths against his cheek.
Their eyes met.
Her crimson eye opened slightly, and her gaze curved upward in a subtle, knowing smile.
It was as he had expected.
With a swift motion, he brought his sword down with his right hand while channeling true qi into his left arm.
This was the fourth technique he had yet to name, combining Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique with Demon-Destroying Azure Unyielding Palm.
The excessive energy deployment was gradually becoming more familiar. With just a hint of insight, he felt he could master the technique.
Swish!
Her leg flew toward him in retaliation. Though lying on her side, her kick was impossibly fast.
Her right foot struck his blade, knocking it aside with force that seemed to distort the air.
The cold, gleaming edge of his sword veered off course, away from her neck.
Sssss—!
Undeterred, Jeong Yeon-shin extended his left hand, unleashing a palm strike charged like an explosive projectile.
BOOM!
The tree beneath them splintered with a deafening crack. The recoil from the strike sent a numbing chill through his shoulder blade.
Jeong Yeon-shin, airborne from the impact, twisted midair and landed smoothly. As he touched down, he sheathed his Ipwang Sword, its faint trajectory fading into the shadows.
“Your techniques are refining day by day. Truly impressive, my Taesa.”
The lazy, half-awake voice of the Seventh Apostle echoed from above. She had evaded his palm strike as well.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly.
“...The qi that rises from the Zhongfu Point settles in the Huizhong Point, with the intent of a storm.”
He recited the fifth and sixth formulas of Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique, words that needed to be said.
Turning his back to her, he walked away.
Their agreement was simple: one attack per technique, no more, no less.
Among masters, the first second of an ambush was everything. A second attempt was unthinkable.
‘The quick strike follow-up worked well. It covered the weaknesses in the palm technique.’
Reflecting on the exchange, Jeong Yeon-shin glanced back briefly.
The Seventh Apostle had already shifted to another branch, leaning casually against the tree.
Her posture was relaxed, her head propped on one hand, her expression carefree.
She swept her hair aside and smiled brightly at him.
“Come back soon.”
Jeong Yeon-shin said nothing and turned away.
In the distance, Namgung Hwa-shin stood at the treetop, arms crossed.
Under the faint moonlight, she watched silently, like a figure from a painting.
She was ready to strike if the Seventh Apostle broke their agreement. If necessary, she would join forces with Jeong Yeon-shin.
Thud.
Namgung Hwa-shin descended gracefully to the ground and spoke.
“Your techniques are indeed becoming more refined. It feels like witnessing the birth of a new martial art.”
“A martial art…”
Jeong Yeon-shin trailed off, shaking his head slightly.
“I’m not sure if I can complete it in the remaining fourteen attempts.”
“You’re contending with a master who embodies the depths of the Black Domain. Trading life-or-death strikes with her every day is no small feat. Regardless of the outcome, what you gain will be invaluable.”
“I can only thank you for your support. You’ve been caught up in my feud…”
“You give me too much credit. This is a rare experience, one I am grateful for.”
Namgung Hwa-shin smiled warmly, her palm faintly damp with sweat.
She had kept her hand on her sword, watching the Seventh Apostle’s movements closely.
In these days together, a bond of trust had formed, reminiscent of the camaraderie they had shared during their trials against Ma Gwang-ik.
Jeong Yeon-shin, as always, bowed his head slightly in gratitude. Namgung Hwa-shin’s loyalty stood in stark contrast to others from the Namgung family.
“Your expression seems different tonight. Speak freely. We stand on the brink of death, facing the Seventh Apostle, and there’s no room for hesitation.”
Namgung Hwa-shin’s tone was light, yet her words carried weight.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded and spoke.
“Earlier, you suggested we rest in Wuchang for a day. I’m curious about this sister you mentioned—Chang Ryeong-hwaju Namgung Mi.”
“Ah…”
Namgung Hwa-shin sighed, her smile turning bitter.
“It’s nothing too remarkable. My mother’s status as an assassin raised by the main family was the issue.”
The humid summer breeze brushed against them, and the moon, emerging from the clouds, seemed to mock them.
“An assassin…?”
Jeong Yeon-shin repeated the word, then fell silent.
“You heard correctly. Many sects claim to follow righteous paths, but in reality, it’s difficult for any group wielding power to uphold true virtue. Wealth, influence, land, and military strength—how can such forces solely pursue justice? The so-called righteous sects merely use that façade to protect their interests. And behind the scenes, they raise invisible swords.”
Namgung Hwa-shin continued, her expression calm.
“The Namgung family has a group called Swordnight (검야). They handle tasks that the well-known Infinite Sky Sword Squadron (창궁검천단) cannot. Things like assassinations and abductions. My mother was one of their assassins, until one day she caught the patriarch’s eye.”
“...”
“That’s how I was born. I had potential, so the patriarch decided to groom me as the leader of Swordnight. Unlike my other half-siblings, I wasn’t discarded. They even gave me elixirs meant for direct descendants. But that only earned me the resentment of my legitimate sister—Namgung Mi. She felt even that was too much to spare.”
“Your opponent in this duel—Chang Ryeong-hwaju?”
“Yes. Swordnight serves as both the blade and servants of the Namgung family’s direct line. My mother endured humiliation in front of me without complaint. She was born an assassin, after all.”
Namgung Hwa-shin spoke evenly, recounting her past.
“Two years ago, during the Mid-Autumn Festival, I received news of my mother’s death. She had died on a mission, her body never recovered. That’s common for Swordnight, but it wasn’t just any mission. She’d been sent to assassinate one of the direct heirs of the Thirteen Heavens—a ridiculous task. And it was orchestrated by Namgung Mi, who had forged the acting patriarch’s seal to authorize it.”
“Forgery? That’s something even third-rate sects wouldn’t attempt.”
“The family was thrown into chaos. But the bigger issue was Namgung Mi using the family’s assassins for personal vendettas. She was sentenced to a hundred days of secluded training—a punishment for her rank but one she accepted with a smirk.”
Namgung Hwa-shin’s voice was steady, but her trembling hand betrayed the suppressed emotions of years spent under oppression.
Jeong Yeon-shin said nothing, his silence an acknowledgment of the pain he couldn’t fully understand.
As they reached their camp, Namgung Hwa-shin offered a faint smile, leaning against a tree.
The two horses tethered nearby glanced at the flickering campfire as if assessing their riders.
“Rest first.”
“I will.”
With a calm exchange of words, Namgung Hwa-shin volunteered to take the first watch.
Jeong Yeon-shin lay down, using his bag as a pillow and his robe as a blanket.
Crackle.
The sound of the damp firewood burning filled the quiet night air.
‘I should’ve dried it with the Sammae Purification Flame,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought briefly before falling asleep.
The journey continued like this until they reached the second relay station in Wuchang.
***
Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin spent a day at the relay station in Wuchang. The Ming Dynasty's relay stations served as both lodging and administrative hubs.
It was a frugal way to secure decent accommodations.
There were only a handful of cities along their mission route with functioning relay stations.
Namgung Hwa-shin, anticipating the erratic behavior of Namgung Mi, had suggested they rest for a day. Jeong Yeon-shin agreed.
"What is that?" Namgung Hwa-shin asked.
Jeong Yeon-shin, reclining on the opposite bed, lifted his head.
"The Diamond Sutra (금강경)."
He held up the Buddhist scripture, bound in a small book, for her to see. He had brought it for his mental cultivation studies.
Namgung Hwa-shin nodded in acknowledgment, her expression neutral.
Jeong Yeon-shin returned his gaze to the scripture.
The benefits of his Demon-Destroying Azure Unyielding Palm were significant, stemming from insights gained during sermons by Shaolin monks.
Now, he sought ways to integrate these teachings into new mental cultivation techniques, alongside the Moon Spirit Harmony Technique, a core practice of the Ipwang Fortress Lord.
If successful, this would further elevate his martial arts and allow him to significantly reduce the casting time of his techniques.
The ultimate goal was to achieve a seamless internal energy system imbued with spiritual power. If he could maintain this state at all times, summoning Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique alone would suffice in most cases.
This endeavor promised to advance his overall martial capabilities.
“Respond without clinging to anything, yet act with a mind free of attachment (응무소주 이생기심).”
As Jeong Yeon-shin skimmed the lines, he suddenly lifted his head.
Namgung Hwa-shin did the same.
Both had sensed the commotion outside—a loud disturbance filled with shouting voices.
Words like Hyun Sa Moon, fight, Namgung, and Namgung Clan reached their ears.
"She’s here. Let’s go," Namgung Hwa-shin said.
Both were already dressed in their gray martial robes. The distinctive blue uniforms of Ipwang Fortress had been tucked away in their satchels to avoid drawing attention—precisely for moments like this.
They stepped outside together.
On the bustling street, a voice infused with qi rang out:
"Here stands Chang Ryeong-hwaju of the Namgung family, who has slain the leader of the rogue Gate of the Wise Master! The Namgung family will establish a branch here in its place, ensuring peace and security for all. Resume your livelihoods without fear!"
Before long, the conversation turned to talk of servants, undermining Namgung Mi’s achievements. Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin swiftly returned to the relay station.
As they discussed their next steps over the following two days, more news arrived.
Namgung Mi’s actions were bold and ruthless.
She had crippled the Gate of the Wise Master’s remaining servants by severing their energy meridians and damaging their Speech Acupoints (아혈), rendering them mute.
She had then ascended the podium once more.
“There’s a saying: ‘One becomes stained by proximity to ink.’ They were all complicit. Even the servants had been practicing sinister martial arts techniques,” she declared.
A relay station worker, paid ten copper coins to relay the information, recounted this with striking clarity. The boy had sharp, intelligent eyes.
Namgung Mi, with her angelic face, had shed tears of pity, captivating everyone who listened.
“These were the servants of those who ruled the city like tyrants. It was impossible to distinguish them from the sect’s disciples. They were not like you, the common folk, but accomplices who feasted alongside the rogue sect. Yet, I judged them with a sorrowful heart. Even if you accuse me of lacking mercy, I will accept your reproach.”
However, because the Gate of the Wise Master had been an infamous rogue sect, no one criticized her actions.
Her sweet, persuasive words had further cemented her influence.
Even relatives of the crippled servants hesitated to voice their complaints, watching those who openly cheered for her.
Local government officials, including the Prefecture Overseer, remained silent.
Despite the loss of a labor force under their jurisdiction, they took no action—testament to the Namgung family's influence extending beyond the martial world.
Instead, rumors of Heroine Namgung Mi’s fame spread rapidly.
Namgung Hwa-shin’s expression darkened.
"Even if we win the duel, this will be a problem," she muttered.
"If we sever her head in a life-and-death duel, Ipwang Fortress will lose favor in this region," Jeong Yeon-shin replied.
Namgung Mi had begun acting like both an ethereal maiden and a monarch in Wuchang.
Her reputation soared within days, fueled by her confident, charismatic smile.
“Ipwang Fortress must always win the people’s hearts,” Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
Even with legitimate justifications, they had already destroyed the Hwangbo Clan, a prominent righteous faction.
Now, they aimed to eliminate the Namgung Clan’s leadership. Even if the righteous sects unified against them, they could not complain.
The Supreme Commander had once said that the leadership of Ipwang Fortress was concerned about the potential formation of the Martial Alliance (무림맹).
To avoid giving this vast martial coalition a pretext to target Ipwang Fortress, every mission had to be carried out with impeccable justification.
"There’s no reason to hastily engage in this battle for legitimacy," Jeong Yeon-shin said.
"The Sword Corps Captain, Elder Council Leader, and Ipwang Fortress Lord will handle that. As long as we focus on our part, our efforts will be acknowledged."
"Jeong So-hyeop…?"
"In any conflict, one must often let enemies weaken one another."
As Jeong Yeon-shin rummaged through his satchel, he felt the eerie smoothness of silk against his fingertips.
It was the rare and precious fabric of Pureblood Robes, dyed crimson like blood.
Slowly, he pulled out the robe, its deep red hue gleaming ominously.
It had once belonged to a Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.
"All we need is a mask," he said. "A demon’s mask would be ideal."
"You’re not serious?"
"Namgung So-hyeop, tell me—should I show mercy?"