Black City Palace.

The innermost seat was empty. A vacant spot so barren, it hardly resembled tradition.

There was no chair to sit on.

In other words, this was a palace without a throne. There was no platform for an emperor to rule from, no seat to overlook the civil and military officials.

It was said that the Emperor of the South always handled state affairs and trained his divine skills while standing in place.

In a wasteland where the starving and the devourers coexist, he believed one could not sit.

A man who stands for life.

Whether it was sincerity or calculated for public sentiment, the interior of the Black City Palace was inevitably desolate. If not for the ashen-colored altar at its center and the gathered Northern Kings, it would have been even more so.

But Jeong Yeon-shin felt differently.

'It’s overwhelming.'

The transcendent presences seeped from skin to bone. The pressure and individuality of peerless masters should differ from one another—but here, there were eight. Enough to make one dizzy.

Among them were three of the Six Star Lords and even the Invincible of the Small Heavens.

In Jeong Yeon-shin’s long life as an adult, he had never felt pressure like this. It was as if all of creation were twisting.

“......”

The silence was profound. The lords of this demonic stronghold stared at Jeong Yeon-shin with strange eyes.

They were not a force that anyone could face alone. Every human had limits allowed by the heavens.

Even those considered the greatest throughout history were no exception. No matter how absolute they were, none could wield martial might alone in this place.

“I would like to open your head and peer into the mysterious thoughts of the Master of the Divine Sword Corps. Has your upper dantian donned mourning clothes?”

A certain old monk asked in broken language. He stood out the most among the Northern Kings, with a foreign orange robe that draped all the way to his toes.

It must have been the Dharma King.

The master of the Potala Palace of Tibet, famed even in Ming lands for its powerful lama monks. There was no way he got along with the Invincible of the Small Heavens, yet for this moment, they stood on the same side as fellow Northern Kings.

Was it the Emperor of the South’s diplomacy? Ripples of multicolored light flowed repeatedly from the Dharma King’s hand.

It was the hand holding the head of one of the Four Kings of Dragon Resonance, her limbs all broken as she gazed up at Jeong Yeon-shin with a curious expression.

‘Five Thunder God Palm. A technique with no weak points...’

And the Four Kings of Dragon Resonance—though she was defeated, she still hadn’t turned her back on Jeong Yeon-shin.

A bond of faith had formed.

She must be saved.

Then—

“Dharma King, do not act rashly.”

A tall Yao beside the Dharma King restrained him. Though his voice carried youthful vigor, it was impossible to guess his age.

It was because of the beard flowing from either side of his philtrum like a white dragon’s whiskers.

Though his martial arts were unknown, his identity was unmistakable.

Aisin Gioro Heukhwan. Widely believed to be the Emperor of the South’s successor. It meant he might become the second emperor of the Qing.

―In terms of bloodline, he’s Senior Brother to Lady Yeo Ryeong. Our lack of intelligence about the Demon Realm is entirely due to his influence. A master of espionage, and we still don’t know what martial arts he’s cultivated.

So said Grand Commander Jeon U-rip, who guarded the Great Wall. But now Jeong Yeon-shin thought he understood. What the true martial path of Aisin Gioro Heukhwan was.

Crackle—

Black lightning surged in multiple streams from Heukhwan’s body. It was different from the destructive martial arts of the great Vajra King. This was pure lightning energy threading through acupuncture points and nerves with extreme intensity.

In short, it was a sensory path based on transcendent reaction speed.

Despite his overwhelming advantage, he had fortified his defenses against formations. His state combined direct confrontation capability with the triggering of sensory arts.

A genius.

“Master of the Divine Sword Corps, I do not respect you. At the very least, you should have brought five Northern Kings from the Anti-God faction. Were you planning to turn your subordinates’ sacrifices into meaningless deaths?”

He asked calmly.

He was indeed the son of the Emperor of the South.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t answer. He simply questioned inwardly.

‘This feels like the late emperor...?’

He took in three figures.

The Emperor of the South.

The Invincible of the Small Heavens.

And a certain limping giant. A man soaked in the spirit of the former emperor Gunreung.

His gaze nearly drifted to Bukdo, but if he started with him, his focus would be scattered to every Northern King, including the Six Star Lord Yeom Jeong.

Every person here was a peerless master who had pierced through the entirety of life with a single hand.

“This one’s aura has changed.”

The limping man looked toward the Invincible of the Small Heavens. His voice was tinged with curiosity.

Coincidentally, Jeong Yeon-shin was also paying attention to her. She wore the Thunder Belt at her waist, her jet-black hair cascading down her violet long robe.

It was like seeing a reversed mirror. Had she grown up in Ipwang Fortress, she might have become another Jeong Yeon-shin.

He asked quietly.

“What about Senior Baek?”

The Invincible of the Small Heavens moved her lips slightly.

“...I sent him back to Ming.”

“Why?”

“Because the Tomb of the Heavenly Demon is there. I sent him to retrieve the precious relics of the founding patriarch. Lately, legged trees have been moving wildly, so I figured he should guard the ancestral legacy.”

“Did he go willingly?”

At Jeong Yeon-shin’s words, the corners of her lips twitched faintly.

“If I say yes, would you believe it?”

It was said that the words of the Lord of the Ming Sect, as true mantras of spellcraft martial arts, could never lie. But surely beings with “Demon” in their title weren’t incapable of lying. That made no sense.

Once in a lifetime, perhaps a few times—

Only when they accepted the weakening of their own divine upper dantian would past Ming Lords utter fatal lies. Each such moment had left a mark on martial history.

The most trustworthy being—yet the one who must never be trusted.

In short, the Heavenly Demon.

“It’s something to consider.”

Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly. He was no longer a man swayed by personal grudges. He was a swordsman who could wield his blade with a clear, undisturbed heart. The Sword Saint had made him that way.

“Your heart—I’m asking what it truly feels.”

He spoke to the broken, reversed mirror before him.

“......!”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

For a moment, the Invincible of the Small Heavens’s densely lined lashes shot upward.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth.

“Come.”

The voice fell like a command.

Vmmmm—

The Master of the Divine Sword Corps’s armament responded.

A pure white divine sword, still in its sheath, rose from the Thunder Belt at the waist of the Invincible of the Small Heavens. Her violet sleeves slipped down her arms in sequence. It was a scene unfolding like a dream.

Rustle.

Her long fingers brushed the hem of her robe—almost touching, then letting go. The lips beneath the silver mask moved faintly, wordlessly.

Perhaps it was the dignity of kings.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s preparations for donning the armor were uninterrupted. Every one of the Northern Kings silently watched as he draped the long robe over his shoulders and inserted Yeoroe into his belt. As if peering into an abyss.

Likewise, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the palace deeply.

The Battle Formation of Dimensional Void Distortion.

An enormous flow of energy poured in streams beneath the altar. There was no way of knowing how many treasured artifacts and isolated transmission techniques had been poured into it.

And with the addition of So Cheonmujuk’s battle technique, there would be nothing it could not accomplish.

‘An altar where anything is possible...’

Just as Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the ivory altar—

“I told you not to interfere, Namje. No... I ask the same of all of you.”

The voice pierced clearly like raw steel. The limping man’s tone was low, and held a touch of familiarity that made it oddly pleasant to hear.

That was what made it strange.

‘The God of Combat.’

He was mixed among the Northern Kings as if he belonged there. A being who shouldn’t exist in this space. And yet, nothing about him could be sensed. It was as if Jeong Yeon-shin were staring at a pebble and gaining nothing from it.

A natural body of the North. A supreme realm of a different order.

Everything simply felt inevitable.

Step. Thud—

Even as he approached with heavy, awkward steps to look down on Jeong Yeon-shin, it remained so. Even his limping left leg felt completely natural.

“You killed the Divine Fighter?”

The God of Combat spoke fluent standard language with ease.

“You must be fast.”

“I was slower than her.”

Jeong Yeon-shin calmly honored the death of the greatest Divine Fighter. The queen of Mongyo's body, who gave up fighting in order to protect something. He had seen traces of many people in her figure.

Saaa―

The northern wind burrowing under the palace thickened like smoke. It happened right after the God of Combat’s good-natured smile revealed a cracked molar. There was hardly an intact part of him.

“You say I’m the one from a past era? Then the Southern Emperor of the world was wrong.”

“Move. I have work to do.”

“Mm. I, too, now know what I must do.”

A pale breath scattered alone into the air from the God of Combat.

Suddenly, Jоо Gwang-shin gasped behind Jeong Yeon-shin. The reason was simple: the God of Combat had taken a step and was already right in front of them.

The distorted sense of distance. The limping man had gently placed his hand on Jeong Yeon-shin’s solar plexus like patting an old friend.

Ki—eeeeeeing—!

By then, three halos were already rotating fiercely around Jeong Yeon-shin’s heart.

The starlight of the Dang family siblings encircled his entire body, and at the same time, the God of Combat’s inner energy exhaled with a rough voice.

“Come back later.”

Suddenly, the whole world tilted like a sundial, and time stretched endlessly like congealed syrup.

Kwa—aaa—ang—!

A supremely controlled palm strike exploded.

Hundreds of layered shockwaves burst from a single point, and Jeong Yeon-shin’s body naturally floated, slightly bending backward.

It was sheer inevitability. From the point of impact, he was struck by a force greater than anything he had ever experienced.

A shockwave without any internal weight-distribution technique crushed through bone and organs alike.

“The Battle Formation isn’t complete yet.”

Jeong Yeon-shin muttered in a low voice—and vanished in place. He had been flung at a speed the explosion itself could not follow.

He broke through dozens of stone walls and buildings in a fading, straight trajectory. Before the debris and dust could even scatter, his body had already flown across several li.

He had already twisted midair to align with the strike’s force. His position had reversed with Jоо Gwang-shin, who was on his back.

Kugugugugung!

Every bit of the shock pierced his body but was pressed down and nullified by the protective energy, True Radiant Star Heaven. Even then, Jeong Yeon-shin continued to sense the distant ivory altar.

A place he would soon need to breach again.

—Are you alright?!

For a brief moment, a hoarse transmission echoed loudly in his ears. It was still the voice of Jоо Gwang-shin, clinging to his back.

Even as he flew far from the palace, Jeong Yeon-shin gave a faint nod.

—The pain is intense, but I can endure the blow. Please continue, Elder.

From # Nоvеlight # Myunggyo to this place—

Jоо Gwang-shin, on Jeong Yeon-shin’s back, guided him with the slightest movement of qi. Just like when he had once passed on the Ten-Mile Leap to Shin Sobin. All of it was instruction on how to run.

Now was no different.

Thud!

He shot like lightning beyond the vast black earth, even across the outer plains of the fortress, until he crashed into a cliff. His right knee took the impact, and his kneecap throbbed.

Long cracks etched themselves into the pale rock wall. A monstrous recoil. Jeong Yeon-shin immediately pulled his knee out from the cliff face.

Kwagagak!

He naturally stood, vertically pressed against the cliff. Suction from the Yongcheon Acupoint on the soles of his feet held him steady. He gazed out across the plains stretching from below the cliff to the black earth, like looking into a mirror.

“......”

The ground reflected nothing.

Only the countless footprints of the Divine Sword Corps that had advanced to the black earth remained. Each imprint held weight. And they were all violently rough.

Just like the cliff ledge Jeong Yeon-shin now stood upon.

Kugugung—

Both feet sank deep into the cliff.

It was the secret acceleration technique he had learned from Jоо Gwang-shin.

As his energy spiraled and compressed from the Yongcheon Acupoint, Jeong Yeon-shin’s legs drilled through the cliff like mud. Down past his ankles, through the peach bone.

He was many things now.

Master of the Divine Sword Corps. One of the Five Swords of the World. Northern Emperor. Sword of the Night Sky. The one who raised Nadam. The Southern Emperor’s nemesis.

It didn’t end there. There was more.

‘A realm where distance has no meaning.’

The light vanished from Jeong Yeon-shin’s black pupils. The count had ended with a single strike.

There was no longer any reason to survey his formidable enemies, nor hesitation in overturning a divine battlefield.

He was now endlessly close to becoming the Swiftest Under Heaven.