The ground was split and cracked like famine-stricken rice fields.

Across the vast foundation, deep shadows stretched into the earth like caves. One among them yawned downward like the throat of a giant serpent, a black abyss that kept descending further and further.

Every stone wall was coated in a blackish frost. The cold wind that formed along the irregular striations echoed with a low hum, only to vanish again.

This was once the site of the Black Blade Old Palace.

Jeong Yeon-shin cast a glance into the deepest cavern, its bottom hidden from view. It looked like the perfect place to send an enemy flying.

‘Senior Yong’s Ultimate Martial Way...’

The traces left behind by the former Divine Sword Sect Master had not healed in the slightest. Perhaps they never would.

Yong Hui-myeong’s Ultimate Martial Way had always carried a uniquely shocking weight among all the ultimate techniques of the peerless masters.

Elsewhere, the stone throne atop the ruin was equally striking. It once would have been the upper seat in the palace, had it remained whole.

Sitting on that rough, blunt throne—once struck into place by Yong Hui-myeong like a Grand Elder’s decree—was a man.

He stood as tall as the Southern Emperor, with sharp, bold features that traced sleek lines across his face just like the emperor’s. Yet his age was impossible to guess—his coarse, white-streaked beard flowed down like a dragon’s snowy brows.

“You’ve come,” he said, casting a sideways glance down toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

It was a curious case.

Until now, Jeong Yeon-shin had never once heard the Northern Kings speak in such polite tones. What’s more, he felt the presence of the other peerless masters shifting in an unusual direction.

It wasn’t pressing down on him.

Rather, the majority of the aura in this place was pouring toward the man seated on the upper throne—as if weighing and appraising him.

“...?”

And yet, the way the man rested his hand on the armrest looked completely natural.

Was it his noble birth? The stone chair beneath him had the gravitas of an emperor’s jade throne.

Jeong Yeon-shin stood calmly in the circle formed by the Northern Kings and called out to the man.

“Aesingarakra Heukhwan.”

The one who had defeated all of his powerful blood relatives of the same rank to become the Southern Emperor’s successor.

He was the one Jeong Yeon-shin had pierced through during the Black Blade Grand Clash, and the one who had ultimately lost his father, the Southern Emperor.

“I’m grateful. You could have chosen to leave without stopping by, considering how turbulent the world is.”

His eyes were striking—jet black, like a bolt of lightning against the night sky. Unlike the quiet abyss of the Southern Emperor’s gaze, there was something else within him. Something extraordinary, beyond mere martial skill.

“You’ve already claimed the throne?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked coolly.

At the same time, he felt as if he were standing in the middle of history itself. Naturally, this sensation came from the divine insight of his Upper Dantian.

Heukhwan’s reply was indifferent.

“Half of it. The Northern Emperor still reigns.”

“Is this revenge?”

“Cleansing shame? That would be absurd. The will of the former emperor rests with the Northern Emperor. For us to rise against you would be to disgrace ourselves.”

Suddenly, a muttered curse rang out from one side.

Spoken in Sanskrit—likely by the Dharma King—it was indecipherable.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t bother turning to look at the one-armed Western monk.

Hуeon Won-chang, standing nearby, was already staring at the Dharma King in silence.

“A kin to myself,” Jeong muttered. “Like crusted eye gunk—malice half-melted in the corner of your eye... That monk’s surely a heretic.”

“I ask this of Heukhwan and Mun Gok: anything unrelated to the funeral... is excluded from the Northern Emperor’s authority.”

In other words: Are Jeong Yeon-shin and his companions fair game for slaughter?

It was a place where anyone could be killed.

But Jeong Yeon-shin hadn’t come alone. At this moment, even Yong Hui-myeong and Jin Myeong-jo stood behind him.

He had brought the entirety of the Divine Sword Corps.

Right now, Jeong Yeon-shin’s presence was more befitting of the title “Northern Emperor” than ever.

If battle were to erupt here at the old ruins of the Black Blade Palace, then the Resonance Division outside would unleash the rare technique Path of Enlightenment and Grand Artistry for him.

From that moment onward, the Divine Sword Corps under the Radiant Southern Tai Chi would become invincible.

They could deal massive damage to the thirty thousand-strong martial army of Blackblade, the very backbone of their nation.

Even the Demon Realm knew best about the Northern Emperor’s “Sword Song” and “Heavenly Blade.”

That was why Heukhwan had no choice but to ignore the Dharma King.

In this situation, any political maneuvering would become a needless entanglement.

“...Setting aside petty grudges, I wish to ask the Northern Emperor—are you aware of what’s happening in Ming right now? I swear, many urgent matters concern you.”

“Is the Emperor attempting to bargain with a warrior?”

“You are no mere warrior. Not only is your title ‘Northern Emperor’ a grave matter, but you were the one who received the final message from both the Southern Emperor and Emperor Gunreung.

The new age will now flow along the edge of your sword.

You’ll understand this more clearly when you visit the Ming Dynasty yourself.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Lend me this sword, for a time.”

In Heukhwan’s hand was a snow-white divine sword.

None other than Yeoroe.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t ask whether he had lost his mind. He had never met a sane peerless master to begin with.

He simply stared at Yeoroe in silence. Heukhwan continued speaking.

“The sword that pierced me—your sword—is the divine object that best affirms the legitimacy of the next emperor of the Demon Realm.

It is also the treasured blade this chaotic era desperately needs.

With this, I wish to settle all past grievances between you and the Demon Realm.”

“That’s the sword that killed your father. What about your personal grudge?”

At that quiet question, Heukhwan’s lips curled into a faint smile.

It was the kind of smile that said, Thank you for asking.

“The Emperor is not a person.”

Jeong Yeon-shin chose not to interrogate him further.

There was something human about such an inhuman answer.

If this had been before he ascended the Demon Realm, perhaps he would have tried to humiliate him. But now, he didn’t feel the need.

Heukhwan’s smile deepened at the silence.

“As expected...”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Mun Gok, standing at one side, remained solemn. So did Heavenly Patriarch Noban, Vajra, and the Sage Sword Lord of Goyo.

They, who had once fought like demons, now carried themselves like noble kings.

It was a sight visible only to Jeong Yeon-shin, the Northern Emperor acknowledged by the Southern Emperor.

Perhaps because of their age, or their wisdom, the Northern Kings here seemed to prioritize the Southern Emperor’s vision over the identity of the killer who had taken his life.

‘Have I gone mad too?’

The thought passed through Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind as he found himself understanding them without meaning to.

It felt profoundly unfamiliar—that a mission could end without the complete death of one side.

Realizing that affairs in the martial world could end this way, Jeong Yeon-shin began listening as Heukhwan detailed the state of the Central Plains.

All of the information, he said, had been gathered through Whirling Wind Hollow.

Even after the death of the Little Lord of Yeoryeong, the faction of Yeoryeong itself still remained.

“Let’s begin with Yunnan, Guangxi, and Guangdong—the lands farthest from here.

There exists something called the Four Provinces Martial Alliance, which appears to be part of the treasonous faction known as the Grand Pure Alliance.

Strangely, they possess a method to guide the Soulless Sword Lords along a predetermined path.

Using that, they clashed with the Hyeongsan Sect on the northern edge of Guangdong...”

From the many hollows in the ruins, the northern wind echoed in a chilling hum.

And after a long briefing—

“...Quite the spectacle.

Had time permitted, I would’ve crushed the leftover scraps of Yeoryeong myself,” Yong Hui-myeong muttered beside him.

Jin Myeong-jo stood silently, tightening the bandages on his shoulder with one hand.

And Jeong Yeon-shin could no longer focus on the distant hum of Yeoroe across from him every time he ran a hand along the hilt of the Divine Sword of Enlightenment.

‘This is bad.’

The state of the Ming Dynasty, as spoken from Heukhwan’s mouth, reminded him of the chaotic era of the Sixteen Kingdoms of long ago.

As the famine deepened, countless strongmen naturally rose up across the vast lands.

Even Ipwang Fortress and its master seemed to be experiencing problems.

But more than anything, distance and time were the issue.

Even if they set out from Blackblade and sprinted all the way to the Great Wall, it would take far too long.

Then suddenly, Yong Hui-myeong spoke.

—What an utter madness. Considering how long I’ve been away, now even I or the previous generation’s elder would have to sit cross-legged inside the gate just to rest.

Jeong Yeon-shin replied in a soft voice, his eyelids gently lowered.

—We were short on hands before we arrived in the Demon Realm, and we still are now.

—I’ll drop by that woman, the King of Dragon Resonance. On my way here, I saw she had quite the interesting subordinate in tow. I’ll chat with him for a bit—call me if anything happens.

—It’s difficult to summon someone who’s already washed their hands of Jianghu. Please be at ease.

—So now I understand the other side. Is this what the previous elder felt?

With that final remark, Yong Hui-myeong blurred and vanished from where he stood.

Meanwhile, someone had been quietly observing even the slightest changes in Jeong Yeon-shin’s expression. Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t bother to turn his gaze—he could sense her presence clearly.

The Northern King who had desperately searched for the missing Great Warrior at Whirling Wind Hollow—none other than Sunjeong.

For some reason, the fierce and imposing air typical of the Yozoku wasn’t present. Her presence was like a branch swaying in the breeze. She resembled the Eternal Flame ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Divine Physician he had seen once before.

The Northern King Sunjeong spoke in a cryptic tone.

“We shall meet again. Now that I know my beloved Great Warrior has headed south.”

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t respond. He simply pondered why he couldn’t perceive her appearance through his martial senses.

‘What kind of martial art is this...?’

At that moment, Heukhwan called out to him.

“North Emperor, are you not planning to station the Divine Sword Corps in the Demon Realm? Seems you’d want to keep an eye on how I govern the civilians here.”

“Why bother?”

Though he addressed Heukhwan, Jeong Yeon-shin’s question was directed at the late Southern Emperor who had died here.

These people truly honored the fallen Southern Emperor. Even Jeong Yeon-shin’s upper dantian couldn’t detect any deceit or falsehood in Heukhwan’s words. Naturally, he had no strength to waste on them. The commanders of the original fortress and the Blue-Rank members of the Divine Sword Corps now needed to return home and resume their duties.

—As long as we both fulfill the promises made with the Southern Emperor, it’ll be fine. You govern. I’ll kill.

—Kill? Kill what...?

Jeong Yeon-shin gave no answer.

In that instant—

“......”

An eerie silence swallowed even the northern winds, blanketing the ruined palace ground. A stillness fell over not just Heukhwan, Mun Gok, Heavenly Patriarch Noban, the Great King Vajra, and the Dharma King, but even Hyeon Won-chang and Jin Myeong-jo.

Hyeon Won-chang looked as if he had much to say to Jeong Yeon-shin, while Jin Myeong-jo simply stared at his back with those vivid red eyes.

From a distance, the Divine Sword Corps and top martial artists from the Black Path had been observing the inner proceedings—but even their white breaths had vanished. And so it remained, until Jeong Yeon-shin spoke again.

—The Ming Empire is far. On the journey back, I plan to observe your country. Kill who needs to be killed, help who needs help.

—You’re leaving?

—Don’t die pointlessly. The Southern Emperor was too valuable for that.

As Jeong Yeon-shin turned to leave, the Dharma King spoke.

—Leader of the Ming Cult!

“......?”

—Do you not also despise that scourge? If you meet them again in the South, will you kill them? Can you deliver death wrapped in overwhelming despair? You just might be able to!

There was madness in his voice. And yet, compared to before, his words were strangely composed. Jeong Yeon-shin slowly shook his head.

—Don’t delude yourself.

—What delusion?

—Just because you despise your past doesn’t mean you kill it. Your grudge is yours to deal with.

Leaving the speechless Dharma King behind, Jeong Yeon-shin walked on. It was then that Heukhwan’s voice echoed once more.

—One of the reasons the vast southern lands fell to such ruin... is the absence of you and the Divine Sword Corps. Southern Jianghu is ignorant of the Demon Realm’s affairs, but they know well how distant it is. Whether your Northern Conquest succeeds or not is one thing—but the sheer time it takes for you to return is another. A sword too far to be seen might as well not exist.

—I know.

—It was also a great concern for the late Southern Emperor. He always gazed southward and prepared many great arts. This formation spread across the Black Path is one of them.

—And yet, it didn’t cut me. Didn’t you say the path ahead was long?

—This Black Path formation was built in anticipation of an invasion by the Lord of Ipwang Fortress. Do you really think all the formations were placed only where a sword could reach? The final formation, constructed with the cooperation of the Western Heavenly King of the Ming Cult, lies beneath this city’s water channels.

—There’s another formation?

—A dimensional void technique formation. I don’t even know where in the Ming Empire it connects to. All the artifacts needed to activate it have been depleted... but try triggering it yourself. If you wish, I’ll hand it over.

Heukhwan paused briefly, then added:

—As a tribute to the North Emperor who raises a stormy Naadam before departing.

—Didn’t I say an emperor is not a mere individual?

At Jeong Yeon-shin’s retort, Heukhwan gave a faint smile.

—To be honest, I don’t think your return is a good thing for the Central Plains. That’s the judgment of someone who once wore the emperor’s crown.

—You said you had no artifacts?

—We used them all up dealing with you people. Try to procure some yourself.

That was the end of it.

Jeong Yeon-shin exchanged a few more words with Heukhwan before stepping outside. He left behind requests concerning Yang Guifei and Qingmyeong of Ma Gwang-ik’s faction, who had yet to reunite with him. Even as he spoke those few words, the tremors of Yeoroe were still tumultuous.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you.’

Step.

The moment he stepped out of the ruins, a softened breeze brushed his cheek. Even so, the wind remained cold, like winter.

A small sun melted orange hues into the biting air, painting the sky like pigment. It was as if the sunset were exhaling all the memories and reflections of what had happened in the North.

The glow of dusk even touched the stairs that led up to the Black Path Imperial Palace. There sat the Blood King, Lord of the Ipwang Clan, and Ma Yeon-jeok, half-perched on the steps.

—Let me tell you what kind of person my daughter is. Despite being capable of healing any wound, she chose to live with one eye on purpose. I told her countless times it was a flaw on her perfection, but she never listened. It’s the deepest mark left by Jeong Family’s Seomye.

—That’s madness, isn’t it?

—It’s the noble sincerity of a distinguished bloodline. A sentiment your kind can hardly possess.

—Say whatever you want. I’ve long decided not to waste my heart’s strength on who my kin associate with.

—Unexpected. That face of yours didn’t suggest it. How long’s it been since you made that decision?

—Nineteen years.

—...Listening to what Seomye of the Jeong Family said over there, it seems we’ll be walking to the South on foot, hopelessly. For reference, the family’s artifact was incinerated in one stroke by your grandson. In any case, the journey won’t be dull. The characters here are quite diverse.

—Who knows.

He had just started walking, intending to find Yong Hui-myeong, who had gone ahead.

Jeong Yeon-shin could feel the dusk coolly soaking into the conversation between these aged youth.

It was still winter.

***

Dusk of early evening, dyed with faint orange light.

Step.

The moment Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward, he felt the spring breeze.

Surrounding him were over five hundred members of the Ipwang Fortress Divine Sword Corps, alongside their respective commanders.

To one side, Yong Hui-myeong was irritably applying pressure-point treatment to her blood-covered arm. Her complexion had gone pale, paler than even Jin Myeong-jo’s face. He hadn’t seen her look like that even during the Great Battle of the Black Path.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke, as if to comfort her.

—It seems to be working well.

—Didn’t I say it’s precious blood? You bastard, Seomye. You went on and on about washing your face in gold powder, and now this...

All around was ruin.

Among the fragments of long-burnt stone, the spring breeze was flickering. It was the aftermath of some overwhelming force.

Just after the dark fog had spit out the Divine Sword Corps and the Ipwang Clan.

KUGUGUGUGUGUNG—

A massive tremor vanished through the cracks of the sky. Hyeon Won-chang, having quickly scanned the distance, uttered in disbelief:

—Beijing...?

It had barely been half a shichen since Jeong Yeon-shin had heard about the Southern Emperor’s dimensional void formation.

They were now standing atop the remnants of golden rooftops. Strangely, it was the heart of a ruined Forbidden City.

From somewhere nearby, the Ipwang Clan Lord muttered:

—Southern Emperor... that lunatic.

They were in the Central Plains.