Shengjing was the military and political center of the Central Province, home to more than just a single military base. Normally, these airfields operated under quiet tension, but today, one such quiet, small military base felt distinctly different.

Its highest-ranking commander could never have imagined that the presence of high-ranking generals—let alone two Lieutenant Generals at once—would ever grace this humble location.

And then there was the Martial Arts Master... Bae Sung-joon, the founder of New Taekwondo in Hanju! This very "God of Martial Arts" of Hanju, whom countless martial artists looked up to daily, sat quietly cross-legged on a cushion, clad in a plain white taekwondo uniform. His stillness projected the calm before a tremendous storm.

Even from fifteen meters away, Yang Kelai, the base's highest commander, could distinctly feel Bae Sung-joon's tranquil aura pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. A slight move closer, he suspected, and he would be crushed by that sheer presence.

This was a true Martial Arts Master, renowned throughout the martial world for many years! Yang Kelai subtly glanced at the two Lieutenant Generals beside him: Zhao Huzi from the Central Province, and Lee Myung-jung from Hanju.

Both under the jurisdiction of the East Asian Military Region, Lee Myung-jung offered a gentle, refined smile, yet it carried the cold, venomous air of a striking snake. It was far more uncomfortable than Zhao Huzi, who wore his displeasure plainly across his face.

Yang Kelai knew something was deeply wrong with these two generals today. He feared unforeseen situations might unfold, hoping only that he wouldn't be caught in the crossfire.

The roar of a massive airplane propeller, followed by the sharp whistle of an object tearing through the sky, descended from above. Bae Sung-joon, who had been meditating with his eyes closed as if asleep on the cushion, snapped them open. A flash of electric light shot out, piercing the air. Yang Kelai’s heart spasmed violently several times; such a gaze was terrifying!

It wasn't merely a flash of lightning in the room; it was as if that thunderbolt had been driven deep into one’s spirit, directly into the very core of the heart!

"Hmph!" Zhao Huzi snorted heavily through his nose, a clear sign of his dissatisfaction. He strode out the door with large steps, not sparing Bae Sung-joon a single glance.

Seeing Zhao Huzi’s crude exit, a smug smile bloomed on Lee Myung-jung’s lips. What good did all that open discontent achieve? The brief moment when Zhao Huzi had shaken hands with Bae Sung-joon had already clearly established the disparity in their powers.

Even among those who had achieved the realm of Martial Arts Master, there were clear tiers of mastery. Bae Sung-joon had been at this level for years; not only did his every movement carry significant weight, but his understanding of the martial way and his control over power were far beyond what a warrior like Zhao Huzi, a newcomer to the Master realm, could match.

In that instant of a handshake, Zhao Huzi had been defeated, a clean and decisive loss! Witnessing this outcome, Lee Myung-jung felt as though he were already seeing the inevitable end for Qin Fen.

"Master Bae, shall we head out as well?"

...

Bae Sung-joon rose in silence and walked outward without uttering a word.

Almost simultaneously, the airplane flying steadily overhead suddenly lurched violently several times before regaining its composure.

The shaken pilot nervously glanced back at Qin Fen. What had just happened? This young man, who had seemed as safe and harmless as a sleeping infant, had, in the instant he opened his eyes, made the pilot feel as if a blade had suddenly been plunged into his heart.

The warrior sitting beside Qin Fen instinctively clutched his chest, his eyes wide with disbelief. What madness had seized the young man? He had been quiet as an infant, only to suddenly unleash such astonishing light, making it seem as if a massive bolt of lightning had struck the entire sky.

Qin Fen slowly leaned forward, peering down through the aircraft window, his gaze instantly locking onto the middle-aged warrior in the plain white taekwondo uniform among the crowd on the tarmac.

That sudden, chilling intent to kill rising from below—it was unmistakable! Qin Fen slowly withdrew his gaze, lightly tilting his head back against the seatrest. Among the practitioners of New Taekwondo, only its founder, the Hanju God of Martial Arts, Bae Sung-joon, could possess such strength!

As the aircraft smoothly descended, Qin Fen continuously ran through hypotheses in his mind. Perhaps Bae Sung-joon's most skilled, senior disciple mentioned in legends might possess such power. But the person standing below could not be Bae Sung-joon’s top disciple, Zhang Tianhe; his age didn't match that of the Master-level warrior below.

The plane settled steadily onto the airfield. The moment Qin Fen calmly stepped off, Zhao Huzi’s face, previously etched with anger and worry, broke into the innocent, unrestrained joy of a child.

One month! Just over a month! Zhao Huzi could hardly believe that Lieutenant Colonel Qin Fen, who had deserted his post after completing a mission and refused to report back, had made such massive strides in the martial way. He could see a change as profound as the mending of the heavens; Qin Fen’s martial path was far more mature.

In only a little over a month, Zhao Huzi made no effort to hide his delight, striding forward to grip Qin Fen’s shoulders fiercely. "You scoundrel, you've finally deigned to return?"

Qin Fen allowed Zhao Huzi his embrace and rough handling before rendering a crisp, formal military salute, snapping out the words in perfect military cadence: "Lieutenant General Zhao, Lieutenant Colonel Qin Fen reporting for duty!"

"Good, very good!" Zhao Huzi pulled Qin Fen into another bear hug, lowering his voice close to his ear. "Be careful later. The fellow beside Lee Myung-jung is Bae Sung-joon, the long-established Hanju Martial Arts Master and the founder of his school. I just exchanged a handshake with him, and he utterly defeated me in an instant."

A flicker of surprise touched Qin Fen’s mind. Zhao Huzi, having reached the fifteen-star level after Bone Marrow Nirvana and Great Primordial transformation, certainly qualified as a Martial Arts Master. To be defeated instantly upon shaking hands with Bae Sung-joon proved that the Hanju God of Martial Arts' fame was no mere nationalistic exaggeration. Even the hostility he just emitted suggested this man was no mere pretender.

"Colonel Qin, your name is known far and wide to me. It is a pleasure to meet you in person today," Lee Myung-jung approached them, his face set in a smirk that was half-smile, half-grimace. "I heard you completed your mission successfully, so I came personally to see the true demeanor of our 'Light of East Asia.'"

"General," Qin Fen responded, still rendering a salute. It was military protocol; failing to salute this seemingly ill-intentioned soldier could give him an excuse to issue a citation, which would be a costly loss.

Lee Myung-jung eyed Qin Fen with a smiling gaze, frequently shooting looks of approval, adopting the paternal air of an elder toward a junior.

Zhao Huzi nearby merely sneered, the movement of his thick mustache emphasizing his unconcealed disdain.

"Good, very good. Truly worthy of being the Light of East Asia," Lee Myung-jung nodded repeatedly, his expression shifting from initial admiration to one of strained difficulty. "In addition to checking on you, I have another unavoidable duty. I must introduce you to someone..."

Lee Myung-jung stepped back to his right, fully exposing Bae Sung-joon to Qin Fen’s view. An almost tangible gaze fastened directly onto Qin Fen.

"Bae Sung-joon, the God of Martial Arts of Hanju, the founder of New Taekwondo, Master Bae."

Lee Myung-jung’s expression held an unspeakable pride and glory—not feigned, but deeply felt. Any Hanju native speaking of Bae Sung-joon would wear such a look of pride.

With the rapid rise of Ancient Martial Arts and New Martial Arts, the once-prevalent Taekwondo had declined, leading to a collective sense of loss regarding Hanju's national pride. When Taekwondo was being squeezed to the brink of obsolescence by the dazzling strength of various new styles, Bae Sung-joon emerged. His New Taekwondo swept across the province again and, in recent years, began slowly expanding outward once more.

Bae Sung-joon was the pride of all Hanju; calling him the Light of Hanju was no overstatement.

Since his debut, Qin Fen had repeatedly heard Bae Sung-joon’s name. Among current Martial Arts Masters, he was the most familiar—Master Bae Sung-joon, who hailed from the Sacred Martial Hall, founded his own school in Hanju, and single-handedly restored the pride of the Hanju nation at the moment Taekwondo was set to be discarded.

Having heard the great name for so long, this was their first true meeting. Qin Fen felt the tangible, sword-like scrutiny as he closely examined the man before him.

The appearance of the Hanju God of Martial Arts was not handsome, nor was his build the towering, mighty figure Qin Fen had imagined. Aside from the astonishing killing intent radiating from him, if he wore a suit and tie and walked through a crowd, few would ever guess he was the Martial Arts Master who pioneered New Taekwondo.

Single eyelids, a slightly long face, thick, short hair, faintly colored eyebrows, and an average build—he looked utterly unremarkable.

The tangible killing aura aside, Qin Fen saw no point in formal greetings or saying he had long admired the man. A person molded by the Shenquan Dao had no interest in sticking his face out to be slapped when he clearly saw the opposition had come to cause trouble.

"Hmph..." Bae Sung-joon’s cold demeanor caused his sparse eyebrows to knit tightly in the center. What young martial artist would not rush forward to call him 'Senior'? Qin Fen, who couldn't even be bothered with basic courtesies, was someone Bae Sung-joon had never encountered.

Even though this young man’s power seemed to have surpassed the initial stage of a Martial Arts Master, facing such blatant disregard, Bae Sung-joon felt compelled to express his displeasure through action, regardless of the fact that he was the one who sought out the confrontation.

Qin Fen smiled dismissively. A martial senior? The founder of a school, the God of Martial Arts of Hanju, Bae Sung-joon—so what? Since they had come looking for a fight, why should he humble himself?

God of Martial Arts of Hanju? Qin Fen stood straight and proud, hands clasped behind his back, a faint smile playing on his lips. Even against the Earth’s God of Martial Arts, Qilin Song Wendong—hailed as one of the strongest martial artists alive—he would dare to defy orders with action. In fact, after concluding this mission, he planned to request a few days off to go propose marriage.

Seeing Qin Fen remain completely composed in his every gesture, the furrow between Bae Sung-joon’s brows deepened. His slightly reddish lips parted slightly: "You killed Renying?"

The moment Bae Sung-joon spoke, even the pilots still aboard the plane felt the air temperature plummet. Even those completely unfamiliar with martial arts could sense the dense, murderous intent in those icy words.

Qin Fen nodded. There was no point denying such a thing; he had no intention of denying it, nor did he wish to explain anything to this renowned Hanju founder and Martial Arts Master.

They were both warriors. Anyone who reached the level of Martial Arts Master must surely have blood on their hands. Qin Fen would sooner believe that cats and mice have been loving companions since the dawn of their species than believe any Master here was as pure as a white rabbit from an ivory tower.

How could one understand the brutality of the martial way without experiencing life-and-death struggles? And how could someone who didn't understand the cruel side of martial arts possibly become a Martial Arts Master? A warrior who had never killed could never exude such a sharp, tangible killing aura!

Since Bae Sung-joon must have taken lives as well, Qin Fen believed the Master would understand that sparring inevitably leads to death, and unless the power gap was immense, it was difficult to hold back in a fight. For an eighteen-year-old martial artist, no matter how talented, achieving a level to match Cai Renying's fourteen-star strength was nearly impossible. Being killed by her would have been the more likely outcome; showing her mercy would have been an act of supreme folly.

Knowing this situation, Bae Sung-joon still sought him out. Explanations were useless; attempting to explain now would only make Qin Fen appear weak.

Weakness? Since its formation millions of years ago, the Sahara had never truly shown deference to anyone. Qin Fen had been alone under the Sahara for less than two months, yet the markings of millions of years of history and glory from the Sahara were imprinted upon his boxing style. How could he possibly yield to a hostile Martial Arts Master coming to confront him?

You are a Martial Arts Master? So am I! Qin Fen did not retreat; instead, he took a step forward, slowly parting his lips. "More than that. Jin Jishai was also killed by me. Even Li Yongjun was defeated and then killed by me."

The more solidified the Shenquan Dao became, the more Qin Fen’s personality was influenced by his own techniques. Did a true deity ever need to hide or fear revealing the things he did? I did it, and that’s that! This wasn't reckless bravado but an aura of not needing concealment. This imprint in his martial art naturally shaped how he conducted his affairs.

Forcing his personality and style to deviate from his martial path would ensure Qin Fen would never reach the supreme zenith; his progress might even regress.

"Li Yongjun was killed by you?" Lee Myung-jung's elegant smile abruptly froze. A fierce hostility instantly flooded his face, his eyes blazing with savage light, making him resemble a grinning demon from hell.