"Now it's unmistakably like the front waves of the Yangtze River. It's a strange feeling."

"This is something I should’ve expected the moment I accepted my grandchild as a successor. At least I didn’t go through the ritual of bathing in gold powder. You almost died too."

"And yet, the old tidal flats of the Yangtze speak now."

"There’s hardly anything left that can stop Yeon-shin now. He’ll start digging up the secrets of the world soon. Perhaps even..."

"Perhaps he’ll follow in our footsteps from the moment we first faced the Gate."

"That’s not the story I mean."

"I heard the tidal flats almost came pouring out without warning, only to pull back. The Fortress Lord even shook his head—something that rarely happens."

"And didn’t you try to take a bite too?"

"So you saw that too."

***

The vast sunlight shattered pure white above a sea of clouds, and Jeong Yeon-shin's focused intent echoed from far above. It was so faint it barely registered as a tremor on the ground.

‘If the sword even slightly cuts in...’

The moment he gripped his blade, the center of the cloud sea split like a tuft of feathers.

Fwoosh!

Immediately after, Jeong Yeon-shin transformed into a long streak of light, plummeting vertically toward Huashan's Cloud Top Peak. In a flash, the view before his eyes flipped from sky to ground like a lie—filled entirely with the Gate, glowing white like a vast pond.

The Transcendence Sword traced a burning gray arc, slicing soundlessly past the Gate and falling to the ground—as if cutting through mist.

"......!"

Time flowed like light.

With his Upper Danjeon and Baihui fully open, he now perceived the entire world like a slowly unrolling scroll.

Two figures behind him began releasing their qi bursts—Wei Ji Myo-hwa and the Hwasan Sword Hermit.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin was falling at a speed too fast for even their eyes to track, and his sword force—Lipdo Crossing the Moon—was just about to unleash a shockwave worthy of a true Gongwol Martial Art.

There was no time to recognize a face. To them, it must have appeared to be an ambush.

Yet the sword strike was clearly meaningful.

Together with the Transcendence Sword, Jeong Yeon-shin pierced through the Gate. One day, this sensation would surely be useful.

‘For now, let’s pretend this never happened.’

He recalled the techniques of two other existences—those who could unleash even the most destructive shockwaves as if drawing water in silence: the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, and the God of War.

Fwoosh!

The ground cracked even though his blade hadn’t touched it yet. At that instant, the swirling dust left in midair was sucked into the hand gripping the Transcendence Sword.

KRAAAAAAAAK!

Jeong Yeon-shin crashed downward, carving a tunnel into the mountain as he fell. Even the residual force from the shockwave he himself unleashed slammed the ground like a blow.

He pierced straight through Cloud Top Peak like a flash of starlight. In the spot where he vanished, pale gray stone powder exploded outward.

Fwahhak!

The lingering mark of an advanced movement technique. There was no way that mere imitation could reach the level of the Ipwang Fortress Lord.

—You’ve gained insight. Wait.

Like planting a shining seed of wisdom, his inaudible voice—hidden like Radiant Mind Implantation—was passed from Jeong Yeon-shin to the Seventh Apostle.

***

“I heard lightning struck Cloud Top Peak.”

“Seems the spiritual energy of this sacred mountain is starting to fray. The world truly is in turmoil...”

“Still, watch your words. This is a mountain our Alliance must embrace.”

The two of them stepped across the threshold of an antique Taoist temple. Their hemp robes flapped like long coats, but their gait remained precise despite the coarse, ash-colored fabric.

“What happened with the Gongsun Family?”

“The former Clan Leader is alive. We also found his secondary household. It’s located far from the main one. Looks like he wanted to empower his son when passing down the position. He went through the gold powder cleansing too.”

“That’s good. Well, that’s how most prestigious sect clans operate. They either pass down the position posthumously, or vanish from the main household like a royal family with proper discipline.”

“Though rare, there are disgraceful exceptions... like the Tang Clan.”

The elderly man who quietly added that, stroking his beard, gave off no visible pressure.

The Invincible One, Lee Beom.

The Supreme Overseer of the Grand Pure Justice Alliance, which suddenly rose to power as soon as the Divine Sword Corps crossed northward.

Less of a warrior, more like a scholar. He was widely disliked by the righteous sects of the White Path.

He always spoke reason, wielding his lack of martial ability as a weapon. Trying to suppress him only ended in public disgrace.

In fact, it had already been revealed that he was a retired high official who had returned to seclusion.

To highborn sects that valued etiquette, he was like a sharp thorn.

A middle-aged swordsman nodded at Lee Beom’s words.

“Come to think of it, you’re right, Overseer. The succession of the Hwangbo Clan truly did resemble a royal lineage... In hindsight, I’m not sure if it was fortunate or not. That former Clan Leader, Hwangbo Gon, turned into a man of the Demon Realm.”

A man known to move the legs of the “Heaven’s Greatest Sword” like tools—Blue Dragon Hall Lord of the Four Star Murim Alliance.

With thick facial skin and an expressionless appearance, the bluish Blue Dragon Sword hanging at his waist rattled constantly.

Lee Beom smiled faintly.

“This stroll ends here. Let’s head back. By now, the immortals of the Old Sects are probably waiting.”

But the Blue Dragon Hall Lord looked unenthusiastic.

“Immortals, you say? They’re just a late-generation Sect Leader from Zhongnan and a deputy from Huashan. The only one worth anticipating is the Sect Leader of the Joint Way Sect. But can that man even manage to drag his heavy legs all the way here?”

“That’s something we’ll soon confirm.”

Creeaak—

Lee Beom opened the wooden door.

It was a guest chamber assigned to them by the Huashan Sect. Inside, others were already seated, awaiting Lee Beom and the Blue Dragon Hall Lord.

Wei Ji Myo-hwa and the Hwasan Sword Hermit—just the two people the Blue Dragon Hall Lord had just dismissed.

“......”

Their expressions were calm.

No sign of rage on their faces. It was unclear whether that came from the self-discipline of those who practice the Taoist arts or simply their effort not to reveal their contempt.

The Blue Dragon Hall Lord’s brows slightly furrowed.

“Only the two of you? Wasn’t the Joint Way Sect Leader supposed to officiate today’s meeting?”

“I am here.”

A voice emerged without warning.

Rather than sounding human, it felt like the murmuring of a spring breeze pronouncing syllables itself. It resonated with a presence beyond humanity.

Everyone turned their heads toward the corner of the room.

“......!”

“The road was long.”

An elderly man with white hair and beard was there—leaning against the wall at a diagonal angle.

An old Taoist.

Though the room was enclosed, the frayed sleeve of his faded robe fluttered like a celestial maiden’s garment. And yet, not a single thread of his energy leaked.

The Qi of Non-Action and Nature.

By the circumstances, he must have entered when Lee Beom and the Blue Dragon Hall Lord came in. Yet it wasn’t until he spoke that his presence was even noticed.

From his appearance to his conduct, everything danced between reality and the surreal.

For the first time, the Blue Dragon Hall Lord’s voice trembled.

“The Post-Heaven Radiant Star...?”

The old Taoist—the Joint Way Sect Leader—still kept his eyes closed. Without moving his throat or lips, he uttered another voice-like sound.

“Three representatives of the Old Sects have gathered. It's excessive for one location. Speak your minds quickly.”

It was a gentle prompt.

But despite the leisurely tone, the old Taoist’s words cut like a blade.

Supreme Overseer Lee Beom gazed at the renowned elder for a long moment, then began to speak slowly.

“First, I, as Supreme Overseer of the Grand Pure Justice Alliance, requested Huashan to host this meeting. The Blue Dragon Hall Lord of the Four Star Murim Alliance with branches in Shaanxi has responded. Thankfully, the Joint Way Sect Leader and Zhongnan’s Sect Leader are also present. And the Lord of Simmuryun, who recently emerged from long seclusion, is on the way...”

Swish.

With noble posture, Lee Beom raised both hands respectfully and continued.

“This is no longer a mere Shaanxi martial gathering. We now speak of all of Zhongyuan. This meeting has reached national scope.”

At that, Wei Ji Myo-hwa gently raised her hand.

“There is something you must explain first. The paintings on the walls—aren’t # Nоvеlight # they wanted sketches of Ipwang Fortress warriors?”

Indeed, that was the case.

The Grand Pure Justice Alliance had decorated the Huashan guest room like their own domain.

The walls, which should have reflected Taoist modesty, were filled with portraits.

Hwasan Sword Hermit opened his mouth with a grave look.

“I recognized every face.”

As if drawn by famous court painters, the portraits vividly depicted the key figures of Ipwang Fortress:

The traitorous sword Taeyeom-ryong, the Great Hero of Ipwang Heon Won-chang, the Abyssal Slayer Ma Jin, the commanders beneath the Divine Sword Corps, Ipwang's Divine Spear Ak Su-rim, the Demon-Slaying Sword God Shin Byeok, and finally—

Jeong Yeon-shin and Yong Hui-myeong...

Up until last year, those faces engraved in everyone's minds—from the great sects, powerful martial clans, and influential households—felt like family.

Sssk.

Lee Beom’s wrinkled fingertips slowly brushed across them. It wasn’t a gesture of reproach, but rather like reverently raising Ipwang Fortress. A tidy, honoring motion.

“They are the ones who protected the people even in places untouched by the hands of wandering heroes. Though now obscured by the northern wall...”

Wei Ji Myo-hwa cut in.

“I asked your intention.”

“To announce the end of the old order.”

At the same time, the Blue Dragon Hall Lord standing beside Lee Beom snapped his fingers, and sparks of True Flame of Samadhi burst from the gaps, scattering in every direction.

Fwhoom!

The portraits began to burn slowly in the inner flame of qi. Wei Ji Myo-hwa’s furious gaze pierced the Blue Dragon Hall Lord, but Lee Beom offered a faint smile in excuse.

“It’s not just here. Such gatherings have been arranged throughout Zhongyuan. Since it was a decision by the Alliance, we had no choice but to follow. I ask for your understanding.”

“Are you saying the entire world has agreed to treat Ipwang Fortress like this?”

“This is merely a symbolic gesture. Many sects across Zhongyuan have agreed. Though the hearts of chivalrous warriors deserve respect, martial artists are people too. In the face of natural disasters like famine, we’re all the same as commoners.”

Right after, Lee Beom ripped apart the portrait of Yun So-yu, the Yullyeong Master, still engulfed in flames. His hand was instantly scorched black, but he silently moved on to the next.

“To survive, we fight.”

The face of Hahoe Wi-jin, the Captain of the Cheonrim Corps, was torn straight down the middle. Next was Shin Hwang of the Myeolseom Division.

“To take.”

Tear!

Hak So-seon, Commander of the Light Blade Squad.

“To build fences and defend.”

Tear!

Ma Jin, Head of the Ipwang Ma Clan.

“To feed our starving bellies within them.”

Tear!

Bukgung Ah, Lord of Yeouicheon.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“...All these things must not be restricted by anyone. The Ming imperial court can no longer care for anyone.”

Then even the face of Ji Gang-hyeon, Iron Spring Lord of the Iron Clan—with his rugged features and jet-black eyes—was torn.

“Life comes first. Every person has the right to survive. And so...”

Lee Beom continued, tearing the portraits in a curious order.

“Based on the joint petition of the 116 sects under the Grand Pure Justice Alliance—”

“......”

“We hereby declare that the long-accepted values of ‘righteousness’ have faded, and the fence known as ‘morality’ has collapsed throughout the world. Our Alliance had already begun preparing to open a new path since the Ming ruling line surpassed a hundred years. Out of concern that those who claimed to be enlightened might rot and stagnate.”

Simultaneously, Lee Beom glanced at the Joint Way Sect Leader, and upon seeing the expressionless face of the monstrous elder of the Ming bloodline, gave a subtle smile.

“I repeat: every person has the right to seek their own life. Martial artists are no exception to this truth. Uprisings will erupt all over the land anyway, so those with vision should acknowledge the current state of affairs and quickly secure their interests.”

“What interests?” Wei Ji Myo-hwa asked, her expression ice cold.

But the smile lingering on Lee Beom’s lips did not fade.

“The merchant guilds who’ve been stockpiling grain in advance. The martial sects of each region who’ve aligned themselves with those guilds. The escort agencies that have pioneered their own trade routes. The lands where some earth energy still remains. And the noble clans who already control those lands.”

“Are you saying to take what belongs to all?”

“For the sake of the greater good.”

“The greater good?”

“If the life vein of Zhongyuan were entrusted to the weak, and if, by chance, the Yozoku were to break through the Great Wall and seize everything, wouldn’t that be an irreversible catastrophe? We don’t even have to consider the Yozoku. Even being plundered by Black Path rogues is a serious problem.”

“You believe your strength can spread across all martial lands like the Divine Sword Corps?”

“I already mentioned the alliance of the 116 sects. And we have Lord Nangseong and the Lord of Simmuryun, Jon Muyeok-gae.”

“No matter how strong they are, they can’t be compared to Ipwang Fortress...”

“Even the old masters of the past have begun descending from their barren mountain ridges to join our Alliance. Of course, some are exceptions. For instance, the previous Peng Clan Leader who died returning from the Kyoryong Formation in Sichuan, the former Tang Clan Leader murdered by his own house, and Hwangbo Gon, the Divine-Hand Demon King who defected and is now marching south with the Demonic Cult.”

Strangely, every single one of them had once been involved with Jeong Yeon-shin. The implication was clear. All of Lee Beom’s words rejected Ipwang Fortress.

A faint crease formed between the brows of the Post-Heaven Radiant Star.

“You’re suggesting the former masters broke the golden ritual of cleansing and are reappearing? Disappearing from the martial world was proof of their stature and dignity. That doesn’t make sense. If true, the number must be...”

Lee Beom once again smiled faintly.

“If there’s no food in the mountains, what choice do they have? If they join us, even the disciples of Huashan and Zhongnan won’t die of starvation in vain. We’ve already secured a great stockpile of rice.”

‘The Joint Way Sect as well’—Lee Beom gave a slight bow to the Post-Heaven Radiant Star. As before, no reply came. It was as if he spoke into the spring breeze itself.

“......”

By then, most of the scrolls and paintings had already burned away. The room grew thick with the smell of scorched parchment and soft popping sounds.

Just then, the Post-Heaven Radiant Star raised his head.

And that’s when a warped, eerie voice echoed from all directions.

[You were told to fight to uncover the legacy of the Heavenly Demon Ancestor. What’s with this petty scheming instead?]

Fwoooosh!

In an instant, all the walls turned to blackened ash and began to scatter.

And from that ash, a figure stepped forth like a dream.

Step.

A sharp silver mask covered the upper half of a face with jawlines so striking it seemed unreal. With each step, the surrounding air rippled and distorted like water.

[You’ve been given such a grand stage—shouldn’t you dance to the tune? Getting drunk on pathetic little tricks instead.]

Her arrogance was like a puppet master in a street show. Wei Ji Myo-hwa stood abruptly.

“The Demonic Cult Leader...!”

In the next instant, the only thing left in the now-empty room was a half-burned portrait of Jeong Yeon-shin, fluttering alone in the dry spring breeze.

Though the space felt hollow, the presence of So Cheonmujuk was overwhelming. When a single long eyelash of hers lowered, a jet-black flame engulfed Lee Beom and the Blue Dragon Hall Lord. Even the Post-Heaven Radiant Star fully turned his body toward her.

[You’re all going to die soon anyway—might as well die here and now.]

At those words, Lee Beom chuckled darkly.

“That might not be such a bad idea. The past masters we’ve been trying to recruit are still bound by their reputations as righteous sect elders. If they hear we were killed by the Demonic Cult Leader, it’ll be much easier for them to join us without guilt.”

[Are you insane?]

“Haha, in times like this, who isn’t mad? If I could just have one more bowl of rice before closing my eyes, that’d be enough.”

[You’ve got no lingering regrets, I suppose. Lived long enough anyway.]

There was no one to stop her.

Insane power and transcendent detachment were about to collide. The entire space was on the verge of being erased by the overwhelming clash of ultimate martial techniques.

Whoosh!

And then, from behind So Cheonmujuk, the image on Jeong Yeon-shin’s portrait came alive—his face materialized, vivid as starlight. Unlike the half-burned drawing, his features were whole and clear. In the daylight, it was as if a constellation had taken human form and descended.

It was only because his movement was impossibly fast—it merely looked that way.

Rustle.

A soft brush of fabric against skin.

With complete naturalness, a stunningly handsome young man slung his arm around So Cheonmujuk’s shoulder.

It was an intimate gesture.

Their cheeks were close enough to touch.

[...]

So Cheonmujuk’s smile began to vanish like mist.

It was then that Jeong Yeon-shin, Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, quietly opened his mouth and spoke:

“Sit. Let’s hear the rest.”