A dream.

I am dreaming.

And I know it’s a dream.

Buried deep in the recesses of time I myself sealed away.

Once known as the Sword Tyrant of Crushing Blades, Dan Seong-eum, the “Sword” was fully aware of that truth. At the same time, it questioned itself. Did I ever have a name? Was it the name of a sword—or a person?

“You’re really going to use an ancient torture method on your own mind?”

A girl’s voice. Young, still immature. Familiar yet unfamiliar. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Her eyes sparkled, just as they always had. The robe embroidered with three plum blossoms suited her perfectly.

“Are you crazy? Don’t do it. You have talent. Otherwise, you wouldn't even be able to separate your essence, energy, and spirit.”

It was after the sun had lost its original heat. Bamboo leaves, once lush with summer green, were beginning to fade. A dry wind blew through the dream, scattering the brittle leaves.

“And besides—royal lineage... This is a secret, right? Anyway, you were raised in a proper family. You were given Purification Medicine and tons of elixirs, weren’t you? I only just got listed as a candidate for Self-Purifying Elixir trials.”

The girl’s chatter continued.

“I’m telling you, there’s a reason your kingdom used that method not as a martial technique but as torture. No one can survive centuries of stillness in one place. A human who endures eternity—can they even remain human? Life only exists because we die at the right time.”

It was strange.

Everything in the dreamscape shimmered like a mirage, and yet she alone remained vivid. In this world stained by dream, she alone felt real.

“My master said time is the most expensive thing in existence. To buy it, you have to lose everything, and to sell it is like offering up your very soul. If you get expelled and end up working for the escort bureau, you’ll understand what it really means. Don’t you think it was a bit much to scold you for dozing off for two shichen during breathing practice?”

The girl had been especially talkative back then. Strangely warm and friendly. The “Sword” couldn’t even remember her name, but that much was clear.

“What did that damn Mo Yong guy say to you anyway? Some little frog in a well who thinks he’s something special. The dragon-phoenix gathering over here is full of guys who can’t even swing a sword properly—just bad luck incarnate.”

She also said that a true Daoist must be able to sell even ineffective medicine as if it worked, and that someday she would become the head of Mount Hua—the ultimate medicine seller.

A single word from her could open the grain vaults of high ministers and merchant lords to the common people. Like a celestial being.

“Listen. If all you do is think about swordplay alone for a thousand or ten thousand years, you’ll forget everything else. That’s not a person anymore. The cruelest torture in the world is when you no longer remain yourself... Not going to stop? Hmm, good.”

She laughed.

“You promised, didn’t you? ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Who can really spend ten thousand years alone like a myth? That’s not human. Let’s just become some wandering heroes who beat up bad guys together. That’s another promise... right?”

Her white hand reached out boldly—then, in an instant, her figure flickered into the form of a pure white sword.

Like a moth’s wings fluttering, she blurred and shifted—becoming a girl again, then back into a white sword.

The sword facing her took a step, then hesitated. The blade tilted slightly sideways, like nodding its head.

You are...

What kind of sword was she?

***

I am the Master of the Divine Sword Corps, Seomye of the Jeong Family.

Jeong Yeon-shin was fully aware of his physical state and the situation around him. Experience and emotion were the constellations that made up the microcosm of martial power that was the Divine Sword Corps’ current master.

He let nothing slip through his mind. Every moment was too important.

Thanks to that, he could sense—on an unconscious level—that he was lying within the safest formation of guards in all the land.

It was a quiet, secure hideout.

A rare occurrence.

Lately, he had found himself continuing missions even in the worst conditions. But this time, everything had already been resolved. He had allies who could shoulder the burden if anything else happened.

Thus, the top priority was recovery. A fully recovered Master of the Divine Sword Corps was, in itself, the fastest route to ending any crisis.

He slipped in and out of light sleep repeatedly.

Eventually, as even he lost track of how much time had passed, Jeong Yeon-shin slowly regained consciousness.

Ssshhh—

He was lying on a rough bed.

A warm breeze brushed his cheek and lifted. At the same time, his fingertips rested in the air stirred by the wind, beginning to feel sensation again.

With a deep inhale, a faint scent of skin entered his lungs—familiar. The scent of a senior he knew well.

Meanwhile, distant whispers tickled his ears from the far side of his pillow.

Still a long way from full recovery...

He hesitated to waste time.

He debated whether to open his eyes, but decided to keep them closed a little longer. The gazes of his seniors watching over him so closely felt heavy.

It was a strange feeling.

As I thought.

He had a sense that they’d all realized something they shouldn’t have. The secret transmissions exchanged among them confirmed it.

—Did the pulse read okay? If we touch his crown, will Yeon-shin get angry?

—This is getting old. Just wait, and wait heavy.

—His wound reopened again, so someone go out. And tell Jin Myeong-jo to come in. What’s that guy doing, just loitering outside? It’s not like he has anything else to do.

—Anyone want to help me bind the Cult Master with assassin’s thread and drag her here? We can’t kill her, so it’ll be tough... but if we put her beside Lord Jeong as a comparison group, maybe something—

—Do you idiots not realize your secret transmissions might trigger Lord Jeong’s sensory response?

That final remark from Light Blade Squad Commander Hak So-seon ignored all notions of seniority or age. It immediately shut everyone up.

For a moment.

Jeong Yeon-shin felt like he’d returned to the land of Yangyang in Ho-gwang Province. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he could even smell the wild herbs of Mount Oun’s retreat.

He had no choice but to open his eyes.

He was surrounded by the strong.

The black-clad warriors of Ipwang Fortress turned their heads sharply the moment his eyelid muscles stirred, as if they had been monitoring him through aura alone.

Jeong Yeon-shin opened his eyes—and instead of a ceiling, he met a pair of clear blue eyes.

“......”

It was Seonmok Lord Cheon So-so, looking down at him from the bedside. Even after their eyes met, she just stared at him quietly.

Wummm.

A faint vibration pulsed from her chest.

It was a sapling of Heavenly Wood, taken long ago from the formation of the Jinmu Sect Master. With each of Jeong Yeon-shin’s heartbeats, it released a faint breeze, and wherever it touched his skin, internal and external injuries alike subtly faded.

Just like the time he had recovered at the spring of Heavenly Wood with Yong Hui-myeong and the Cheonju Gate.

One week to full recovery.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

As Jeong Yeon-shin thought this, Cheon So-so whispered softly.

“Yeon-shin.”

“Yes, Senior.”

He answered reflexively, wondering if his voice would come out hoarse—but fortunately, it came out whole. At the same time, Cheon So-so’s lips moved again.

“Yeon-shin.”

And that was as far as it went.

A reply didn’t seem to be expected. Perhaps it was simply due to her nature, not being good with words.

After calling his name, Cheon So-so quietly turned her head to the other side. She remained seated at Jeong Yeon-shin’s bedside.

It seemed she couldn’t stand up because the sapling of the Heavenly Tree was still resting in her lap. Or perhaps, regardless of his recovery, she had chosen to stay there.

She was one of the few seniors who truly regarded him with a deeper care.

It was then.

“Acting Master, are you able to move comfortably?”

It was Master Shin Hwang of the Annihilation Unit.

He stood with his back to the gently curving wall, like an old Mongol yurt. The fierce wind that slammed against the outer walls and rebounded inside matched the overwhelming atmosphere he exuded.

His arms were wrapped in bandages, calling to mind the commander of Myungryudae.

Jeong Yeon-shin paused for a moment at the sight. Shin Hwang had his hands clasped behind his back, just like the day he had officiated Jeong Yeon-shin’s Blue Rank promotion duel. His hands were hidden again, as if by habit.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Aside from Cheon So-so, who was known for her defensive prowess, and Geum Cheong-won, Lord of Wu Geuk Pavilion, the others had similarly hidden their large injuries. It was hard to tell where they'd sourced so many rolls of bandages.

Even Wi Ji-geuk of the Heavenly Dragon Corps and Yun So-yu, Master of the Commandments, were lying under rough blankets a short distance from Jeong Yeon-shin’s bed. The herbal scent he had mistaken for the grass of Mount Oun had been coming from them.

They were like walking corpses.

“...I can move now.”

There was no response to Jeong Yeon-shin’s words.

Lady of Yeouicheon Bukgung Ah, Lord of Wu Geuk Pavilion Geum Cheong-won, Lord of the Celestial Forest Hahoe Wi-jin, Commander of the Radiant Sword Squad Hak So-seon—

Each one of them expressed themselves in their usual chaotic ways: clenching and releasing their fists, twitching a half-shattered prosthetic limb for no reason, rubbing a massive forehead, or lightly tapping a shoulder with a jagged broken sword.

“......”

Then, as if surrounding the bed yet not quite forming a circle, the black-clad warriors stood in place, silently watching Jeong Yeon-shin. Just moments ago, it had seemed like they would erupt into a flood of words as soon as he opened his eyes.

But they held back.

Because Jeong Yeon-shin had not spoken yet.

And there was only one thing he should say now, as the Master of the Divine Sword Corps.

“Report on what has happened.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke quietly.

The fallen comrades of Ipwang Fortress lost in this great battle came first. He needed to know the current status of the Divine Sword Corps.

“You damned...”

A curse slipped from Bukgung Ah’s lips, but Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t even blink. An iron face unshaken by sentiment—that was the quality expected of a Master of the Divine Sword Corps.

***

Time passed in silence, as no one dared to mention the condition of Jeong Yeon-shin’s body. The sun was now swallowing the snow-covered horizon.

It was noon, bright and piercing.

Jeong Yeon-shin pushed open the tent flap and stepped outside.

A steep cliff stretched out beneath the snow, and two men stood with their backs to him, facing the sunlight.

They were silhouettes blurred in the glare.

One wore faded violet robes fluttering in the wind—Yong Hui-myeong. The other had snow-white hair flowing down to his back—Jin Myeong-jo.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze inevitably drifted from the broken sword to the Deputy Master of the Divine Sword Corps. The left sleeve of his new black robe hung empty, flapping in the northern wind.

The air was dry and desolate.

“Seomye, you've slipped through a troublesome situation.”

Yong Hui-myeong turned toward him with a faint smile.

“Though our men are burdened by guilt, for the black-clads of this fortress, that’s nothing. These people carry the livelihood of an entire country on their backs. The only issue is that they’re so eccentric, you never know what disaster they might stir up next.”

“Jeong Yeon-shin.”

That signature cold, smooth voice of the Deputy Master. Jin Myeong-jo still did not turn around to face him.

He simply looked down over the cliff in silence. And somehow, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the same presence from him that he had once sensed in the greatest enemy he’d ever faced: the calm and cunning of the Southern Emperor, who always looked down from the battlefield’s highest point.

“After His Majesty the Late Emperor passed, all that remains in the Ming Imperial Court is obstinance. I’ve been inside the dungeons of Beijing. They calculate profit and loss with brutal precision.”

Jin Myeong-jo’s voice carried on.

“The Thirteen Heavens and the regional clans are more than half destroyed. With this incident, the Demon Realm has tilted heavily, and the Ming court is now relatively safe. Only two threats remain. The Divine Sword Corps, now strong enough to conquer the north—and its Acting Master in the south, whose potential remains immeasurable. Even excluding the aging former Masters, the symbolism and strength are enough to shake the imperial line.”

“Hm?”

Yong Hui-myeong tilted his head slightly, but Jin Myeong-jo’s words remained ice-cold.

“Even if our Lord permits it, the rulers of Ming would never entrust their entire clan’s fate to a single individual of Han blood. They’ll resist with all their might. Ironically, our success in the northern campaign now positions us as their greatest threat.”

“Senior Jin.”

“They’ve likely already begun discussions. About your exile, Jeong Yeon-shin. The Empress Dowager was surprisingly flexible. Every decision flowed in the direction most advantageous to the imperial house. The ‘Northern Empire’ that might threaten the Zhu dynasty crumbles on its own? That’s exactly what they desire. Granting immortality to the Emperor of the northern martial world would be an unacceptable risk.”

He was speaking of the fruit of the Heavenly Tree.

Suddenly, the conversation had shifted to the peak of worldly power. Among those who wielded the Formless Sword.

“Huh? Wait...”

Yong Hui-myeong finally seemed to sense something was off. Like dulled dragon scales finally catching the scent.

The weight of a patriarch’s name in the martial world. The secret revealed in the hellish prison of peak emotion. The culture of Ipwang Fortress that placed its Master above even the emperor. The fact that someone who had mastered the deepest levels of Jeong Family’s Internal Arts and Radiant Decision Formula... would already be no different from another Jeong Yeon-shin.

“Jin Myeong-jo... No, wait—these damned black-clads, are they all thinking the same thing?”

“If you command it.”

Fwoosh!

The empty sleeve merged into the snow flurries and north wind, fluttering like a banner.

“I’ll brew it into liquor.”

He meant the fruit of the Heavenly Tree. Perhaps it was a continuation of the drinking session they had postponed. A chilling cold spread from him.

Step.

Jeong Yeon-shin walked back to the tent with a retreating step that seemed to rewind time. At the same time, he pondered which place he should visit first.

The faintly breathing Baek Girin and the Suncheon Lords keeping watch over him. Heon Won-chang and Shin So-bin.

The tent of the Seventh Apostle and the Blood King Clan, both barely managing their internal injuries.

The ravine where Ma Yeon-jeok had encountered Jоо Gwang-shin.

There were many places he needed to visit.