* * *
Jung Yeonshin opened his eyes while lying down.
Light seeped through the narrow gap of his slowly lifted eyelids. It was an extremely small movement, yet the difference was clear.
The extraocular muscles surrounding his retinas felt lighter and more elastic than ever before.
The scent of grass, which had brushed against his face, faded into the distance. That was how Jung Yeonshin sensed the wave of energy that had spread throughout his entire body.
Even in the moment when the effects of rebirth brought excruciating pain to his whole being, his inner state remained calm, like a tranquil and still lake.
While it was difficult to discern the presence of those around him, there was one person who provided great strength. A presence that embodied the very aspirations of Jung Yeonshin, a warrior…
'Lord of Desolate Fortress.'
Even if it had been a dream, the discourse they shared had been enjoyable.
He liked the feeling of exchanging words. She was the guardian who protected the fruit of the World Tree, the benefactor who stood at the pinnacle of martial arts.
Perhaps because he now recognized that his body had changed, he found himself waiting for the moment he could finally stand face-to-face with her. He wanted to take pride in the achievement of his Sword of the Heart.
"Yeonshin."
A familiar voice pushed aside the covers of his dream. It was a similarly warm tone.
"...."
A large figure stood against the sunlight.
In an instant, the image imprinted on Jung Yeonshin's retinas quickly found its form.
Even though he hadn't consciously activated his Heaven-Piercing Technique, the energy dwelling within his eyes responded. It was accompanied by a slightly awkward sensation.
Only one person could bolster his cultivation with the extreme Jung Clan Movement Arts.
It wasn't the Lord of Desolate Fortress, but his maternal grandfather. From the moment Jung Yeonshin's breathing changed, his grandfather must have noticed that his grandson had regained consciousness.
Jung Yeonshin slowly parted his lips.
"…Grandfather."
His voice was deeper than before.
He had undoubtedly changed. In order to achieve his goal before reaching the age of twenty, he had drawn in a body of that age.
One structured to manifest his unique martial arts in an even more refined and formidable form.
Meanwhile, as he looked down at his grandson, Ma Yeonjeok's shoulders briefly trembled.
"This old man must have misheard. Who did you just call?"
"It seems the lingering effects of sleep still remain in this grandson. I apologize for causing you concern, Grandfather."
Jung Yeonshin calmly corrected himself as he pressed his hand against the ground.
The soil under his palm was damp. There had been a great deal of blood spilled from both his and Murong Zhongrak's bodies.
'This exhilaration is overwhelming. It still feels like I'm in a dream.'
A strange vortex swirled at the uppermost part of his head, as if something was about to surge throughout his entire body at any moment.
If he had to compare the sensation, it was akin to the divine radiance contained within a luminous wheel.
His body, his internal energy, and all the elements within him referred to as essence and vital force repeatedly merged and separated.
It was divinity.
With each cycle of unification and dissolution, it felt as if opium seeped into his mind. Perhaps this was what it felt like to drink alcohol in pleasant excess.
It was at that moment.
Swoosh.
The tattered end of a sleeve was gently pulled at his forearm.
It was a cautious touch, carrying both distress and relief at once.
Jung Yeonshin, who had only lifted his upper body, turned his head. The energy brushing against his skin was familiar.
"Leader."
A young girl stood before him, smiling with teary eyes. She had the same expression as when he first brought her back from the Shin Clan.
The curvature of her shoulders, strengthened through training in Infinite Blossom Fist Strike, was always satisfying to behold. It was as if a precious monkey had begun taking the shape of a human.
And it was none other than his own martial arts that had shaped her.
White Cat made him understand the sentiment of an elder leaving a legacy to future generations.
Even if Jung Yeonshin were to die and vanish, she would carry on his martial lineage. The more Shin So-bin's reputation grew, the deeper the footprints he left in the world would become.
"One day, she will become the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Truly splendid."
A fondness stirred within him for the successors of the Lightning Genius' martial lineage. It was likely because he had just confronted death.
"Splendid… What did you just say?"
A small, incredulous laugh came in response.
Shin So-bin's round eyes widened to their normal shape. The corners of her lips lifted slightly.
In Journey to the West, the title Great Sage Equal to Heaven was often seen as the incarnation of martial prowess. It was an exceedingly rare compliment from her squad leader.
Jung Yeonshin preemptively cut off any words of concern. He had simply spoken whatever had come to mind.
"Where do I even begin? The Star-Radiance Grand Sword Lord, yes, the Star-Radiance Grand Sword Lord… No, but more than that, just… this sight before me… I've seen it with my own eyes, yet I still can't believe it!"
"...."
The comrades standing beside his foremost disciple looked down at him, each wearing different expressions.
Heon Wonchang had his eyebrows raised high, openly displaying both relief and admiration, while Lazy Flame Dragon, lost in his own thoughts, simply chewed on a poppy leaf.
"Yeonshin."
"Yes, Grandfather."
Ma Yeonjeok, seated carelessly on the ground, met Jung Yeonshin's gaze. His expression was peculiar.
"Your transformation was strange. Originally, this old man intended to guide your energy circulation using the Jung Clan Movement Arts, yet your body took control of the cycle of circulation on its own. The flow was unnatural, but I deemed it best to simply observe."
"So that was you, Grandfather."
"Hmm?"
"Never mind."
"At any rate… I now understand what happened. Your current body is truly…"
Ma Yeonjeok trailed off at the end of his sentence. It was unlike him. Only the sharp gleam in his fierce eyes remained unchanged, flashing like lightning.
The power ingrained within the Tyrant Hero of Desolate Fortress rippled in sync with his emotions.
Only his maternal grandfather had noticed the nature of his rebirth. How it had occurred, and in what form.
'Could he have also seen what I was thinking in my subconscious…?'
Jung Yeonshin subtly studied his grandfather's face. Thick eyebrows, a smooth forehead, nowhere did Ma Yeonjeok's expression reveal anything out of the ordinary.
"All that remains is for you to establish your achievements."
His grandfather spoke. Jung Yeonshin, who had unconsciously been tensing his legs, quickly opened his mouth.
"Yes. I am grateful to you, Grandfather."
"Rest must come first. Rebirth demands a great expenditure of internal energy and strength. Look here, just look at how much weight you've lost. Even a full bowl of food won't be enough. This old man should hunt down three or four boars right away…."
Boom!
The ground shook abruptly. As he lifted his gaze, he saw a pink robe slicing through the distant sky.
Ma Yeonjeok had leapt into the air. One moment, he was offering advice to his grandson, and the next, he had suddenly sprung away.
He had seen straight through Jung Yeonshin's famished state.
'I am very hungry, but…'
Jung Yeonshin rose to his feet, leaving his grandfather's antics behind.
His vision felt unfamiliar. Looking down, he saw the pitch-black crown of Shin So-bin's head, and when he tilted his eyes slightly, he noticed that Heon Wonchang's heroic sword was now visible below the horizontal line of his sight. His eye level was nearly the same as Lazy Flame Dragon's.
Rebirth of Bone. The restructuring of his skeleton.
Rebirth of Flesh. The transformation of his body.
Among all the experiences he had gained wandering the martial world, this was the most profound.
Even in this moment, as he lightly clenched his fist, the tendons in his forearm writhed like a divine sword. The sensation was different. His meridians and muscles felt as if they were woven from Darksteel.
Rustle.
Shin So-bin, his peer, straightened her back as much as she could, enough for the sound of her clothes brushing against each other to be heard, but even so, she barely reached Jung Yeonshin's chest.
On one side, Lazy Flame Dragon gulped down a poppy leaf and curled his lips into a smirk.
"It's unfamiliar… Unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar…"
Heon Wonchang, rubbing his forehead awkwardly, was about to speak when—
"Leader of the Radiant Demon Squad."
Chivalrous Slayer Kim Jon-hwi, wearing a black hat, approached soundlessly.
He playfully tapped his younger brother Heon Wonchang's shoulder before clasping his hands together in a martial salute toward Jung Yeonshin.
"One of this clan's long-standing grievances has been resolved. Although our vendetta will not end until we eradicate the Murong Clan and Taemo Mountain Fortress, the mere fact that the Star-Radiance Grand Sword Lord is lying there like that… will grant us greater freedom to act."
Speaking of annihilating a great sect. Even with their leader dead, such words were rare to hear. It was proof of the power wielded by the Slaughter Sect, which counted hidden luminaries among its disciples.
"You are Heon Won's elder brother, correct?"
At Jung Yeonshin's acknowledgment, Kim Jon-hwi waved his hand dismissively.
"Titles of respect feel burdensome. You have achieved a grand feat. From now on, the lower you bow your head, the more uncomfortable others will feel. Someone who has slain a supreme martial master, if such a person carries themselves with a bit of arrogance, who would dare find fault?"
"I have habits ingrained in me that make that difficult."
Jung Yeonshin spoke calmly. Even to himself, his demeanor felt more composed than ever.
"Hah."
The assassin lifted the brim of his black hat slightly, revealing a look of admiration.
"Your conduct is truly noble. A warrior who may one day become the leader of the Divine Sword Order understands proper decorum."
"You flatter me."
"I may have been somewhat disrespectful toward you. My excitement at seeing my younger brother got the better of me. I ask for your understanding."
He had sought to recruit Heon Wonchang into the Slaughter Sect. His words were an apology to the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad.
Jung Yeonshin shook his head.
"It is enough for the Slaughter Sect to remain silent about today's events."
"By remaining silent, you mean…? If you are suggesting that we conceal the death of a supreme martial master despite the leader of the Profound Martial Alliance having visited this place, even our sect would struggle to…"
"Not the outcome of the fight, but what happened to me."
"Ah, your rebirth of bone and flesh…!"
Kim Jon-hwi nodded deeply.
"The identity and altered appearance of a master from Desolate Fortress are worth a fortune. Those who have no regard for human life see such information as a lifeline… I understand what you mean. Even if the name Lotus Nezha spreads across the world, none will recognize you first."
Jung Yeonshin silently offered a respectful bow before turning away.
He needed to put distance between himself and his grandfather. The conversation he had shared with the Lord of Desolate Fortress in his dream must not manifest into reality.
It was then.
Behind him, Kim Jon-hwi's voice continued.
"A battle has broken out in the lower region of Gujinli. The young lord of the Profound Martial Alliance was leading a military force northward when, according to rumors, he clashed with a supreme martial master with crimson eyes and long black hair. It is said that one of the Three Martial Lords, the Radiance Blade Lord, was with him. If you wish to avoid unnecessary trouble, you should be aware of this…"
Jung Yeonshin paused momentarily.
Then, he reached out his right hand to the side.
Vwoong—
A resonance of steel vibrated from the direction of Murong Zhongrak's corpse.
A sword flew straight toward Jung Yeonshin's grasp, radiating a brilliant white light along its length. It was Murong Zhongrak's Meteor Sword.
"Ah, yes, you can't forget that! Leave the scabbard to me, I'll make sure it's properly worn!"
Heon Wonchang's excited shout echoed as he pulled the sheath from Murong Zhongrak's waist sash.
"Leader, where are you planning to go?"
A voice tossed casually. Lazy Flame Dragon.
Jung Yeonshin slowly parted his lips.
"Gujinli."
"…Go on ahead. I'll retrieve the Sacred Warrior."
Lazy Flame Dragon spoke. Jung Yeonshin gave a single nod before stepping forward. From behind him, the quiet conversation of the Slaughter Sect brothers drifted like the evening glow.
"So this is where we part ways. Why was it Desolate Fortress?"
"A life like a floating weed. No grand cause. I just found it detestable when people tormented others."
"Even your way of speaking feels distant now. You… seemed to follow the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad quite closely."
"He is a comrade with whom I have shared life and death. We all are. To put it another way, he is closer to a leader—someone who has passed down a sacred technique more precious than life itself…"
"Are you certain your fate does not lie within the sect?"
"I have a goal."
"…?"
"To share a drink with an old man, decades from now."
"You mean the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad?"
"That old man was once a countryside boy who joined Desolate Fortress at the same time as me. He knew nothing…"
Heon Wonchang continued his words slowly.
"We roamed the martial world together as comrades of the Desolate Fortress, creating martial techniques that had never existed before, toppling wicked men with nothing but our tongues, and, at times, severing their heads… I imagine we'd talk about such things. Praising each other, building our own families, boasting about our children, reminiscing here and there. Passing around something like Bamboo Leaf Green."
"…So you'll never take the surname Kim."
"I am of the Heon clan."
"I understand now. What more is there to say? …I wish you good fortune, Heon Hero."
A voice, exaggeratedly formal, settled beneath his feet.
Rustle.
A sound came from beside Jung Yeonshin as he silently descended the sloping path. Small, light footsteps followed him.
She was holding the scabbard of the Beiming along with its half-broken blade. It was White Cat, Shin So-bin.
Jung Yeonshin suddenly felt that his martial robes, barely covering his calves, had become too small.
He glanced down.
The hem of his short outer robe was bathed in the golden light of the sunset.
As he lifted his head again, the cuffs, barely reaching his wrists, shimmered briefly with a tinge of purple.