Chapter 18: Fist and Palm Techniques
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 18: Fist and Palm Techniques
Thanks to the consideration of Cheong-myeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, the two White-ranks were able to head straight to their quarters in the pavilion.
This was a privilege granted at the discretion of the Blue-robed warriors, whose martial prowess and reliability were universally recognized throughout the Desolate Fortress.
In moments like this, it was clear how different this place was from the regular military.
"Now that I’m inside, I don't have the energy to step back out. I’ll have to visit Xiangyang’s Number One Tavern next time," Heonwon Chang joked.
"I think I'll just loosen up my body and head to bed," Yeon-shin replied.
"Which means you’ll be training for another two hours. You really are something else, Young Hero Jeong."
He didn’t even look exasperated anymore. His expression simply read, of course you would.
Over the course of their journey, Heonwon Chang had gradually come to treat Jeong Yeon-shin like a being from another world—an existence even more wondrous than the Brightfolk. Since Heonwon Chang possessed his own sense of chivalry and a steadfast martial path, he genuinely believed it was a good thing for his peer and companion to grow stronger.
Despite the older boy's seemingly frivolous words and actions, Yeon-shin found his character quite admirable.
"Get some rest."
With a faint smile, Jeong Yeon-shin left the pavilion.
On his way to the Small Training Ground, the seniors he encountered greeted him warmly. A few flinched slightly when Jeong Yeon-shin offered a cupped-fist salute. These were mostly individuals with sensitive senses of Qi; they had felt his aura, which had undergone yet another transformation during his mission.
"Flash Art has changed."
"Just looking at his aura, he’s almost unrecognizable. Though boys his age do grow fast."
"This is a completely different story. The phrase 'improving day by day' was practically made for that kid."
"It won’t be easy for us either now, will it?"
No one could offer a rebuttal to the Blue-robed warrior who casually tossed out those last words. A collective silence fell over them. For a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy to stand even a slight chance against a Blue-ranked expert of the Desolate Fortress was a marvel in itself.
Jeong Yeon-shin let his seniors’ words drift past him.
His concept of time was entirely different from theirs. If he wanted to survive, didn't he need to match the martial prowess of the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps by the time he turned twenty?
From White to Blue, then to Black like Ma Jin, and finally to Purple—a realm he had never even witnessed. The Purple-ranked Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, who oversaw seventeen martial units like the Demonlight Wing, stood at that absolute pinnacle. He had no time to waste.
"Whew."
Before he knew it, he had arrived at the Small Training Ground. The facility, which always welcomed him like the labyrinth of an imperial tomb, stretched out before him.
Avoiding the rooms radiating with waves of energy—a clear sign they were occupied—he stepped into an empty training chamber.
Come to think of it, the year has changed, Jeong Yeon-shin realized.
He was now sixteen. In the secular world, it was the age where young men would gradually marry and start a family. Under normal circumstances, Jeong Yeon-shin would have done the same.
The Jeong Family Manor was different from typical martial clans, which thought nothing of delaying their children’s marriages. As a third-rate martial family and a large landowning household, their customs were much closer to those of the common folk.
What kind of person would I have married?
It was an idle thought. He quickly activated the Jeong Family Dynamic Art to clear his mind of such stray wanderings.
He began to move slowly.
As he released his True Qi, the Demonlight Formula immediately activated, mapping out various trajectories as it simulated all kinds of combat scenarios. It was a routine of fist, palm, and kicking techniques.
Swoosh! Whoosh!
Close-quarters combat. Stamping his foot down immediately after a wide, sweeping kick, he thrust out a straight punch.
The atmosphere vibrated under the wave of force he intentionally unleashed.
During his fight against the Blood Master Sword, he had truly realized the value of Ma Jin’s teachings. Having reached the stage of great completion in the Jeong Family Dynamic Art, Jeong Yeon-shin possessed an incomparably strong physical body.
Close-quarters combat was entirely different from swordplay. It was a fighting style that fully utilized his unique advantages.
I need to properly develop my fist and palm techniques.
As time passed, it would become harder to use his youthful appearance as a hidden weapon. He couldn’t rely on catching his enemies off guard forever. He had to draw out every weapon at his disposal and sharpen them to a keen edge.
Is there anything I can draw inspiration from?
Jeong Yeon-shin fell into deep thought, his fist still extended in the air.
An azure light flashed in his eyes.
* * *
"How was Flash Art’s character when standing on the boundary of life and death? How did he treat his companions?"
The scene was the quarters of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, located at the very top of the pavilion. Cheong-myeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, having just returned from their mission, were debriefing with Ma Jin.
"The boundary of life and death?" Cheong-myeong asked back with a blank expression.
"..." Baek Mi-ryeo remained silent. Was there such a thing?
A look of puzzlement crossed Ma Jin’s face.
"Did you not say the Blood Master Sword was there? That means a branch-level force was operating in secret. Don’t tell me the two of you handled it yourselves under the pretext of protecting a White-rank? The records tied to the messenger pigeon were limited by space. Tell me in detail."
"Well, that is..."
Come to think of it, the mission given to the two Blue-ranked experts wasn’t singular. The instruction to observe Flash Art’s character—looking back on it now, it seemed Ma Jin had prioritized that even more than the original mission in Zhenping County.
Baek Mi-ryeo knew. There was no other reason for Ma Jin to press them so urgently. It was highly unlikely unless he was already considering Flash Art as the next Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
That was why it was all the more regrettable. She had nothing to report on that front.
"...Before we even had a chance to observe anything, the Blood Flame Cult branch was destroyed. By Flash Art, alone. All I can tell you right now is that he did not forget his manners despite the grueling journey. It seemed his current outstanding martial prowess wasn’t even his main concern."
"..."
Ma Jin fell silent, lost in thought. Such was the shock of a single-handed destruction of a branch, including the Blood Master Sword.
It was a realm where one could be called an expert even by the lofty standards of the Nine Sects, the Eight Families, the Thirteen Heavens, and the Desolate Fortress. It was difficult to describe such a feat as merely "outstanding."
"Cheong-myeong."
Ma Jin’s gaze now turned to the only Brightfolk in the Demonlight Wing.
There was a famous story about the eyes of the Brightfolk, which were said to see the true essence of things.
It was an anecdote about the Empress Dowager from two generations ago, who became the companion of Emperor Taizu after the founding of the dynasty. She had arrested several officials simply by looking at them, later revealing them all to be traitors. Known to possess martial arts ranked among the best in the world—much like the current Emperor, who was said to have faced the 108 Arhat Formation alone just to witness Shaolin’s martial arts—she had cast a massive presence over the imperial family for over a hundred and fifty years.
Even the common folk knew the tale.
By nature, the five senses of the Brightfolk differed fundamentally from those of the Han people. There was a reason why the final test of the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam was a private audience with the Lord of the Desolate Fortress in the first place.
But what Ma Jin wanted to confirm was something beyond mere potential—he was looking for qualities befitting the leader of a martial unit.
"Flash Art? He’s remarkable for his age. Even though his killing intent is quite thick, he knows how to control it properly. Temperamentally, there’s something even more extraordinary about him," Cheong-myeong said with a light chuckle.
"His killing intent is thick?"
"Isn’t that only natural? That fellow didn’t say a single word about his background throughout the journey. Though judging by his speech and behavior, he’s definitely well-educated."
"I agree," Baek Mi-ryeo chimed in. "It seems both of the new recruits this time have already severed ties with their families in one way or another."
"I see. It’s not that I hadn't considered it, but..." Ma Jin tapped his fingers on the table. Soon, he nodded slowly. "A successor is a successor, but taking care of those who have become family comes first. There is plenty of time. This time is no exception. I wonder how many more unexpected achievements he will accumulate. There will be a certain pleasure in raising him."
"I think so too."
"I am curious to see when he will reach the Blue Rank. It doesn't feel that far off."
Their conversation, closer to a casual chat than a formal report, wound down as the night sky slowly draped over the Demonlight Wing pavilion.
* * *
The next morning.
"Flash Art. The Commander is calling for you."
A White-ranked senior of the Demonlight Wing called out to Jeong Yeon-shin. His tone was entirely different from before.
It felt much more cautious. The way people looked at him had shifted drastically as the details of his recent mission spread. They could no longer treat him as merely their exceptionally talented youngest member.
Whenever he visited the Great Training Ground, whispers containing the phrase "the Blood Master Sword" were bound to be heard several times. It was still happening even now, three days after his return.
Out of the thirty-six members of the Demonlight Wing, ten were White-ranks. For someone at the White Rank to single-handedly dismantle a Blood Flame Cult branch was practically unheard of. There were already rumors circulating that he might become the youngest person to reach the Blue Rank in the shortest amount of time in history.
"Understood, I will head up."
Jeong Yeon-shin politely clasped his hands. He made sure to conduct himself with even greater propriety whenever he heard high praise about himself.
He firmly believed that an absolute expert who lacked the respect and support of others could never ascend to the position of Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. Perhaps because of this mindful attitude, the gazes directed his way grew warmer by the day, to the point where he could tangibly feel the goodwill.
Is it a new mission?
Although warriors of the Desolate Fortress who returned from long journeys were guaranteed a month of rest, he did not take that promise literally. How could anyone predict the volatile shifts of the martial world?
"Come in."
As soon as he reached the top of the pavilion, Ma Jin’s thick voice rang out. The Commander had sensed his presence immediately, even though Yeon-shin had been actively practicing integrating the stealthy movement techniques of wind and grass into his very steps.
Admiring the man's senses—truly befitting a Commander—Yeon-shin opened the door and stepped into the room. Then, he paused slightly.
Ma Jin’s expression was incredibly grave. The vicious scar running across his face looked as if it had frozen solid.
"Is something wrong? An important mission?"
"Though you have shown unprecedented achievements, you are not yet at the level where the Demonlight Wing would entrust you with a mission deemed 'critical.' Of course, my expectations for you are high, but..."
His scar twitched. It seemed Ma Jin was trying to smile proudly in his own unique way.
"It is not a mission. However, it cannot be compared to an ordinary mission either. The Lord of the Fortress has commanded me to bring you to her."
"The Lord of the Desolate Fortress...?"
The absolute being with the deep green eyes came to mind. It was incomprehensible.
"Is there ever a case where she summons a White-ranked warrior again after their initial interview?"
"Because there is no precedent, my mind is uneasy. Her thoughts are utterly impossible to fathom." Ma Jin gestured toward the door with a heavy expression. "Even so, we cannot delay. Let us go."
Following Ma Jin's lead, Yeon-shin left the Demonlight Wing pavilion.
It was quite a distance to the main fortress where the Lord of the Desolate Fortress resided. Even with Jeong Yeon-shin walking at a brisk pace to match Ma Jin’s long strides, the journey took about the time it would take to brew and drink a cup of tea.
During that walk, the sheer amount of attention they drew was staggering. Naturally, the scarred visage of the Naraka Reaper, Ma Jin, clad in the Black-ranked martial uniform of the Desolate Fortress, was incredibly eye-catching. Everyone recognized the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, the man said to turn every battlefield he crossed into a scene straight from hell.
But at the same time, those myriad gazes inevitably shifted to the boy walking half a step behind him.
"It’s Flash Art of the Demonlight Wing."
"The one who killed the Blood Master Sword...?"
"He looks even younger than I thought."
To begin with, Jeong Yeon-shin was the only boy wearing a White-ranked martial uniform in the entire Desolate Fortress. It still felt unfamiliar to have complete strangers recognize him on sight.
Maintaining an indifferent expression, Jeong Yeon-shin silently followed behind Ma Jin.
Soon, they reached the main fortress where he had undergone the final test of the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam.
"Let’s go."
Ma Jin walked in without hesitation, and the guard warriors made no move to stop them. Whether this was due to the prestige of a Black-ranked expert of the Desolate Fortress or born from absolute trust in the Lord’s peerless martial power, it was hard to say.
The two of them climbed the long, winding stairs and arrived in front of the Lord’s chamber.
At that exact moment, the massive doors swung wide open on their own.
A refreshing breeze brushed against Jeong Yeon-shin’s cheek. As expected, she was the first person to catch his eye.
The Lord of the Desolate Fortress sat leaning against the trunk of a massive tree that pierced through the office like a giant, winding serpent. Her deep green eyes, which seemed to contain all the forests of the world, swept past Ma Jin and locked onto Jeong Yeon-shin.
She lightly raised a hand—one so fair and smooth that it was hard to believe she possessed martial arts capable of reaching the heavens.
"Come here."
"Greetings, Lord of the Fortress."
Only after bowing in a cupped-fist salute alongside Ma Jin did Yeon-shin notice the others in the room.
There were two other people present. The first to catch his eye was an elderly man.
He had sharp eyes and a massive build. A pure white beard, without a single stray hair, flowed down to his solar plexus. The purple robe draped over his sturdy frame featured a unique, stiff standing collar. It suited the old man’s firm and imposing impression perfectly.
A Purple-ranked expert who surpasses even the Commanders.
An intense aura flowed from his entire body. It was a presence so overwhelmingly powerful that it would have felt peerless had the Lord of the Desolate Fortress not been sitting right there.
Beside the old man stood a boy. He gave off a slightly arrogant impression, though his features were exceptionally handsome. He stared intently at Jeong Yeon-shin with clear, distinct eyes, his gaze carrying a sharp, challenging edge.
"So you are Flash Art of the Demonlight Wing. I am Ma Yeon-jeok, who once led the Divine Sword Corps."
The old man in the purple robe spoke. His voice was incredibly spirited—so much so that Yeon-shin suspected the man would have haughtily referred to himself as 'this venerable one' had the Lord of the Desolate Fortress not been present in the center of the room.
"My grandson wished to see an expert of his own age, so I spoke to the Lord. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Letting Ma Yeon-jeok’s words slide in one ear and out the other, Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze shifted elsewhere.
The Lord of the Desolate Fortress said nothing. She merely curled the corners of her lips slightly, as if telling him to handle this himself.
—If you wish, I will officially recognize it.
It was not standard telepathy. No flow of energy could be felt at all. It was a voice that echoed directly into his mind on a far more fundamental level. Was this the legendary Wisdom Light Mind Speak used by the supreme martial monks of Shaolin?
Why is she being so good to me?
While feeling deeply puzzled, Jeong Yeon-shin shifted his gaze to look at his maternal grandfather.