A puzzled look formed on the face of the black-robed middle-aged man, the Master of the Red Crane Sect, who had been sipping from his wine cup in the pavilion. At the same time, a flat-toned murmur slipped from his lips.

“What is that...?”

“Step aside.”

Jeong Yeon-shin ordered calmly.

Behind him stood over two hundred martial artists of the Divine Sword Corps.

It had been about half a sijin since they came across the wreckage of the Forbidden City, which had thrown them all into brief confusion. Even Yong Hui-myeong, who was usually composed, had momentarily lost his color.

But the forces that Jeong Yeon-shin brought with him were not ones who could afford to waste time being startled.

The rest of the Divine Sword Corps' Blue Ranks had scattered across Beijing with several Commanders to investigate what had happened during their absence.

Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin led his group toward the former residence of the Grand Eunuch. It had suddenly come to his mind.

‘The map.’

The complete map of the Ming Dynasty was a top-secret document.

Only those at the Black Rank or higher could access it, and even Jeong Yeon-shin and the other top figures of Ipwang Fortress could not carry it around privately.

‘But the Grand Eunuch was different.’

A man of rank who could sit in one place and oversee the entire Central Plains. One of the closest high-ranking officials to the Emperor.

Considering how chaotic the political situation had become since the death of Emperor Gunreung, there was a high chance that the Grand Eunuch’s old residence might still contain a copy of the Central Plains map.

“...Who are you?”

The middle-aged man known as the Master of the Red Crane Sect asked.

Jeong Yeon-shin lightly twisted the shoulder of the Seventh Apostle standing beside him with his fingertips. The Apostle’s cheek hollowed out, pale, where the inner fold of the robe wrinkled beneath the skin.

Sarak.

“Wilderness, Black Rank... is that real...?!”

The middle-aged man furrowed his eyebrows tightly.

But no answer came. That was all the time Jeong Yeon-shin and his party were willing to spend on this Red Crane Sect Master.

Because for the warriors of Ipwang Fortress who had stepped into the Central Plains, time could not be wasted on trifles.

Even as Jeong Yeon-shin exchanged these worthless words with the Seventh Apostle, he was already contemplating their next move.

—When are you taking that black robe off?

—I can’t take it off myself. If it bothers you, try taking it off yourself.

—How petty.

Soon after, he turned his gaze toward the former residence of the Grand Eunuch.

“What is this? Suddenly... what is—!”

“A Black Rank?!”

The Blue Ranks of the Divine Sword Corps entered the main courtyard, the outer quarters, and the annexes of the residence and began clashing with the black-clad martial artists.

These were the warriors of the Red Crane Sect, clad in crimson martial garb as their name implied.

Most of them collapsed the moment they exchanged a single blow with the Blue Ranks, as if their bodies had been bound by their own hands.

Sssshk— Thud!

The sound of cloth being crumpled and dull impacts echoed from every direction.

The difference in level was stark.

Their instant suppression by Gold-Silk techniques was proof of a massive gap.

From the start, each and every Blue Rank from Ipwang Fortress was a war demon capable of wiping out mid-sized martial sects alone.

Now that they had mastered the Divine Sword Corps’ Jeongga Inner Technique and Radiant Force Channeling, they were no different from Jeong Yeon-shin’s own sword.

A sight so rare it was almost never seen in all of Jianghu.

“......”

While the Red Crane Sect Master, who had claimed the finest residence in Beijing, froze mid-drink with his cup raised—

Yong Hui-myeong and Ma Yeon-jeok slowly approached Jeong Yeon-shin’s side.

“No civilians left.”

“Not a trace of the imperial bloodline either. # Nоvеlight # Looks like they’ve all been buried underground.”

Their voices sounded strangely distant.

It felt like the moment from childhood when you stared absentmindedly at the other kids playing in the village, only to realize it was time to go home.

That fading orange hue spread across the sky at dusk came to mind.

Jeong Yeon-shin closed his eyes once and opened them again.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes. I’m heading back to exile now. There’s no lingering attachment after passing down the Divine Sword.”

Yong Hui-myeong, as always, continued in a slightly playful tone.

“Thanks to that terrifying cripple handling things for us, we had some room to breathe... but this is it. The inside of the Gate we used to eat and sleep in, whether it's him or us, is another world entirely. All kinds of monstrous things—like the Yozoku—spawn there endlessly. That alone is reason enough to go.”

Then he added,

“A sword must return to its sheath.”

Jeong Yeon-shin murmured the phrase softly.

“A sword must return to its sheath...”

It was a loaded statement. One that brought many thoughts to mind—especially in a chaotic era like this, the kind experienced only by those who had lived through dynastic upheaval.

Yong Hui-myeong smiled faintly and gestured lightly toward Jeong Yeon-shin’s waist.

“That’s why I gave you the sword.”

The Divine Sword—symbol of the Corps Master alone.

Jeong Yeon-shin let a faint smile rise to his lips.

“Worried your junior might take the throne in this ruin? But I prefer the title ‘Sword Heaven’ over the Northern Emperor.”

“How arrogant. Do as you please. I already gave you the hilt.”

Yong Hui-myeong casually waved a hand and turned away.

His pinkish scholarly robe fluttered gracefully behind him.

“Just make your own judgment. Think about how much good it would do the world to have the strongest Divine Sword Corps in history unleashed.”

It sounded like he was drawing a line, but in truth, it meant the exact opposite.

He was saying he wouldn’t mind—even if Jeong Yeon-shin spread his influence across the entire Central Plains.

That was the kind of relationship they had.

Comrades who had entrusted their lives to each other countless times. Senior and junior from the same martial lineage.

Master and disciple who had shared teachings.

Fellow warriors who had inherited and passed on the path of the hero with one sword—the Divine Sword.

Sarak.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s long sleeve slid down.

He had brought both hands together in a respectful salute toward the former Divine Sword Corps Master.

“Thank you... for everything.”

“Don’t speak as if we won’t meet again. Hey, you there. Yeah, you, you half-wit. You’re coming with me.”

At Yong Hui-myeong’s beckoning, a boy who looked about fifteen or sixteen followed behind.

A martial artist with messy hair and long, sword-like pupils.

Once, he had been defeated by the Sword Saint while serving as a warrior for the King of Dragon Resonance. His name was Geomdan.

Who knew what deal had been struck in the darkness between him and the King of Dragon Resonance,

but at some point, he had naturally started traveling with Yong Hui-myeong.

“Half-wit, we’re heading back to the Forbidden City. Usually, you need to go through the roots of the Tree of All Under Heaven to get into the Gate.”

[If you were going to leave like this, why did you even come along this far?]

“Because all good relationships begin with a farewell.

And judging by your speech, you need to start by learning the Etiquette Palm.”

[Etiquette Palm?]

The buzzing voice of Geomdan, unable to control his immense internal energy, gradually faded into the distance. Naturally, he was with Yong Hui-myeong.

Yong Hui-myeong, who had inherited the Divine Sword when the famine first began,

looked somehow completely free as he walked away.

Even though the inside of the Gate was almost certainly more dangerous than the Central Plains.

“......”

Before long, the Divine Sword Corps members throughout the residence were giving formal salutes to Yong Hui-myeong.

Each raised both hands gracefully in respect.

Jeong Yeon-shin stood among them, staring silently at the now-tiny figure of Yong Hui-myeong—and suddenly thought to himself:

‘I, too...’

Will I, too, someday fade away like that?

It was at that moment.

"Yeon-shin."

Ma Yeon-jeok had approached.

Despite suffering serious internal and external injuries, he was intent on returning to where he came from.

"Grandfather."

Jeong Yeon-shin furrowed his brow slightly—then quickly smoothed it out.

It was because he had just witnessed a sight: the sea of clouds in the northern sky dispersing like mist.

A sinister aura was rising.

It felt like that human-faced centipede he had once killed in Beijing, but this time, something was swimming freely through the cloud sea—as if it were its domain.

At a glance, it looked like an imugi.

Step.

Jeong Yeon-shin instinctively took a step forward, but Ma Yeon-jeok stopped him with a hand.

The old man was smiling warmly.

"This old man will go. You stay in the Jianghu of men."

The same thing that the monk Beomha had once told Jeong Yeon-shin.

From the start, Ma Yeon-jeok and Yong Hui-myeong had the same task.

As the famine dragged on, the Gate’s influence only grew stronger.

It was an age where too many figures of noble hue could no longer gather together, just like in that old life-and-death duel with the Namgung family long ago.

Vooom!

At that moment, Jоо Gwang-shin, who had been resting near the ancient general Hyeon Won-chang, suddenly floated up and landed on Ma Yeon-jeok’s back like a weapon.

It was a natural use of air-borne object retrieval.

Ma Yeon-jeok spoke.

“Even beyond the Gate, I’ll help find the right path for you, Yeon-shin.”

Then Jоо Gwang-shin added,

“If, one day, Eo Ung-gong or Yang Cheon-gong appear as enemies... don’t resent them too deeply. If you fully internalize what I’ve taught you—into your own form and technique—then no matter what fate or enmity you face, it will all be beneath your feet.”

“Elder Shin-gae... you’re going too?”

“From the beginning, the Nine Great Sects have worked closely with Ipwang Fortress only in matters related to the Gate. And since your grandfather’s body is like that of a sickly pup, even an old, legless beggar like me should lend a hand, no? Until we meet again.”

One by one. And then another.

Jeong Yeon-shin had to let them go—those who needed to return.

He slipped the Book of the Northern Dipper that Ma Yeon-jeok had handed him into his robes.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Mun Gok smiled and said,

“Everything has a beginning and an end. It seems their part in this tale ends here.”

By the time these final goodbyes had been spoken, and the Red Crane Sect Master descended from the pavilion as respectfully as if he were treading the Annihilation Path of Demon Lords—

Yeon So-ha of the Divine Sword Corps returned carrying the map of the Ming Dynasty.

“Though, doesn’t the map already exist clearly in your mind, Corps Master?”

Yeon So-ha asked bluntly.

He had remained inside the residence even as Yong Hui-myeong said his farewells,

and now he was intentionally avoiding looking in the direction his former commander had left.

It was different from when he spoke of rotten ropes—this time, he was clinging to sentiment, not caution.

“So the senior Black Ranks can see it.”

Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly, doing his best to ignore the countless gazes stabbing into his back.

Among them, the stares from Jin Myeong-jo and Cheon So-so were particularly sharp.

Because he still hadn’t shared his plans with the other Commanders.

About what remained in his life.

Perhaps I’m still immature, Jeong Yeon-shin thought.

He knew he couldn’t go on forever brushing everything aside like flowing water.

He slowly opened his mouth.

“...Let’s return.”

“I’ll lead the way.”

“Walk behind me.”

The dignified Demon Annihilation Blade and General Hyeon Won-chang moved in stately stride as they exited the estate,

and Yeon So-ha followed Jeong Yeon-shin, who had turned to leave.

As he did, he whispered into the Red Crane Sect Master’s ear.

“The Divine Sword Corps has arrived. Tell the black-robed thugs occupying Beijing to stop breathing.”

“...!”

At that moment, Shin So-bin, who had been trailing at the edge of Jeong Yeon-shin’s shadow, chuckled.

“Not that they’ll believe you. Honestly, we shouldn’t have made it back from the north either. I doubt the whole martial world even knows.”

There was something pale in the tone of her laughter.

Like the way Jeong Yeon-shin had been when he first ascended the Wudang sect.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t spoken openly with Shin So-bin yet either.

When General Hyeon Won-chang tapped him on the shoulder with a chuckle, Jeong Yeon-shin found it slightly annoying—and turned to Mun Gok.

The strategist of the Divine Sword Corps responded instantly.

“Sword Heaven... what you want must be peace for this Central Plains, no?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s all I could hope for. First, stabilize this chaos, resolve the famine... and when everything ends well, even the commoners of the Demon Wasteland may one day taste prosperity. Lush and green.”

“If you have a good idea, say it.”

“Word is, the current Central Plains are more chaotic than the northern Demon Wasteland. If that’s true, then first, we must focus all eyes of the Central Plains on you, Sword Heaven.

Even if they’re in the middle of spilling each other’s blood, if a piece of news is shocking enough, or if a major event shakes them, they will turn to you.

We need those who discuss the fate of the world to start making noticeable movements.”

By then, Jeong Yeon-shin was walking along the wide guandao (imperial road) of Beijing, accompanied by the Divine Sword Corps and warriors of Ipwang Fortress.

Mun Gok, still radiating a colossal presence, walked beside him.

“What would that achieve?”

“It would create an order among the strong. If you reveal all your current power—what you possess and what you’ve achieved—then some greater structure will emerge across the world.

In such turbulent times, it’ll become crystal clear what needs to be addressed, and where.”

Jeong Yeon-shin asked quietly,

“What about a sudden strike, like the Hidden Sword tactic, sweeping through all of the Central Plains at once?”

Mun Gok’s lips curled in a reserved smirk.

“That’s a method suited for petty shadows who dreamed of unifying the Jianghu.

If you want the world to stop, you must let the world see. Surprise attacks mean nothing.”

Then the giant in scholar’s robes asked,

“Can you make the entire world look upon you? That’s the first step.”

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t answer.

Ssshhhh—

The spring breeze of Beijing carried fragments of shattered stone through the glowing market streets.

In the once-great city that had flourished more than any other, a crimson twilight had begun to settle.

***

—Master, have you been in good health?

—Seomye.

—Your unworthy disciple greets you from atop the Tree of All Under Heaven in Beijing. I have returned after completing the Northern Campaign, as instructed.

—You’ve grown. I can feel it in the wind.

—I have something I’d like to ask.

—Speak.

—If I now reach your place with a single sword—

—...

—May I take the fruit of the Tree of All Under Heaven?