"Iphwang Fortress is the domain of the righteous swordsmen."

The young sect leader spoke with a slight smile, lifting the corner of his mouth beneath his silver mask.

"However, to the martial world, there are those who are absolute fools. With such remarkable martial arts, throwing yourself into certain death—how can that not be foolish? At least if they were to become a Blue Rank, they could reign as kings of their region."

"Anywhere they go."

He continued, wrapping his entire body in streaks of black flame, his voice smooth and unhurried.

A mythical sight, the black flames that swirled around his form contrasted with the pure white robes he wore, which made him appear almost ceremonial, like someone preparing for a grand event.

"To receive only a few silver coins for an assassination mission and use such potent martial arts in these dangerous tasks? Even clashing frequently with the major sects. It's no wonder so many die."

"I don’t understand your intentions," the man replied.

Jeong Yeon-shin, who had spread a monochrome lotus beneath his feet, gripped the upper portion of his meteor sword's scabbard at his waist. He was already in combat stance.@@novelbin@@

He had chosen the Thunder Strike technique, not the Dragon’s Claw, so he needed to seize the advantage while his energy lasted.

Luckily, the energy from the Thunder Strike, which seemed ready to tear apart his vital points, no longer carried the same weight of pressure it once had.

The transformation he and the leader of Iphwang Fortress had devised had greatly extended the duration of the Thunder Strike.

But…

‘There’s nothing to read.’

This was the reason he hesitated to make his move.

It was an unfamiliar situation.

In a world where movements, breathing, and defensive footwork were predictable, he now faced an eerily silent confrontation with Yeoryeong, whose every movement, every slight gesture, felt like an enigma.

The young sect leader of the demonic sect.

The young sect leader’s awareness of his own energy, breathing, and the slightest of habits was so acute that it felt like he could read everything.

He kept everything under tight control, revealing nothing, with a perceptiveness and inner power control that was nothing short of extraordinary.

‘If I rashly strike, I’ll be hit first.’

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