Aesingarakra Heukhwan.

He was the sole heir of the Southern Emperor.

Even if the northern martial artists referred to Jeong Yeon-shin as the Northern Emperor, ultimately, it was a form of respect toward the adversary of the Southern Emperor and the Naadam.

The only emperor recognized by all the demonic martial artists could only be Heukhwan.

That was the weight of the years built up by the Southern Emperor and Heukhwan.

At this moment, even as Heukhwan sat upon the imperial throne, his gaze remained lofty.

He looked down on Tae Yeom-ryong with a sideways glance.

"Someone so insignificant dares to cross the line."

Even to set one's eyes on Yeoroe, the Divine Sword now equal in status to a royal seal as proof of the Great Black Conference, required the emperor's permission.

Of course, Heukhwan had not granted it.

He merely let it slide as a joke.

But Tae Yeom-ryong's face remained composed throughout, as if he was long accustomed to feigning leisure.

"This young master,"

—From his tone alone, he was blatantly arrogant.

Bingje nudged him faintly in the ribs for a moment, but Tae Yeom-ryong continued, unhurried.

"...is the trusted subordinate of the Divine Sword Corps Master, Seomye."

"You?"

Heukhwan asked again, his tone even.

In that instant, a flicker passed through Tae Yeom-ryong’s eyes—of a blood fiend, an assassin, and another blood fiend—like shadows in firelight.

But he only smirked lazily.

"To go so far as to scratch my back and give me a push—yet you can’t even be grateful for it?"

"Husband..."

Bingje tried to stop him.

It wasn’t because she lacked confidence in her martial power.

Rather, it was because, in this old site of the Black Imperial Palace, it was near impossible to fully protect Tae Yeom-ryong.

Tae Yeom-ryong gently brushed the back of her hand and said,

"You were defeated by the Divine Sword Corps Master and, in the end, couldn’t even escape that position due to a humiliating treaty, weren’t you?

Must be stifling."

He asked leisurely,

Was he wrong?

The sneer etched on Heukhwan’s lips after those words was as dry as the ruins surrounding them.

Yet somehow, it also looked faintly satisfied. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"You’re deluded."

"Hmm?"

"A promise is a matter of honor.

If the Northern Emperor had requested it, that’s one thing—but the Emperor of the Demonic Realm cannot become a man of no faith.

So if you wish to force us to march south—"

Snap!

With a flick of his fingers, Yeoroe beside the armrest floated into the air and came to a stop at the center of the imperial throne.

An art of grasping objects midair.

"Challenge me and win."

Heukhwan grasped Yeoroe vertically and said calmly.

Tae Yeom-ryong’s eyebrow twitched at the same time.

"What?"

"The legitimacy of the Yozoku is established like this."

Swaang—!

Jeong Yeon-shin’s sword, Yeoroe, was roughly drawn out from the Demon Realm Emperor’s hand, and flames erupted from Tae Yeom-ryong’s eyes.

"Could you handle that a bit more carefully?

It already has an owner, you know."

His tone was gentle, in contrast to his eyes.

The emperor’s reply was short.

"Warm up."

The emperor began to move slowly.

Descending step by step from the high seat while holding Yeoroe, he radiated a presence as if the sword were a part of him.

Though it wasn’t his own weapon, he embodied perfect unity of body and sword.

It was the versatility of an emperor who made no distinction between the Eighteen Types of Weapons.

One corner of Tae Yeom-ryong’s mouth lifted faintly.

"Everything about you is annoying."

"I won’t kill you outright.

This domain of cold that will cool your scorching vitality—I grant it to you.

If you can win even once, I’ll bestow Yeoroe upon you and accept it as if the Northern Emperor’s call had come sooner."

And the emperor added,

"Bingje, this is not a fight you should interfere with."

Sarak.

Black hair, as long as her ankle, swayed a few times around Bingje’s feet.

She remained in place because her master had taken a step.

With eyes like ice crystals, she gazed at Tae Yeom-ryong’s profile.

In contrast, Tae Yeom-ryong’s eyes quietly settled on her slightly rounded lower belly.

She asked quietly,

"Are you going to fight?"

"I thought only noble families fostered empty formalities,

But turns out the Yozoku are no different.

Whether nobles or royals... these clans that prioritize bloodlines are the real problem."

Tae Yeom-ryong muttered with hollow lips.

To lead the Yozoku martial artists as Ipwang Fortress's vanguard, he had no choice but to surpass this absolute master, Heukhwan.

"Don’t worry about the child.

It’ll grow up fine even without its father."

"That’s a brutal way of saying ‘don’t die’..."

Even before Tae Yeom-ryong could finish his sentence, Heukhwan’s sword swung.

The ruins were «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» instantly filled with warped heat and a gust of sword wind.

Of course, the martial artists of the Black Demon Army who tried to rush in were struck by Vajra’s lightning bolt.

Such was the battle in the Demon Realm Emperor’s palace.

With the World Ice Empress and the Great King Vajra as witnesses, the emperor and Tae Yeom-ryong clashed under the ancestral customs of the native clans.

In thirty seconds, one is flung back.

At one minute twenty, they’re utterly mangled.

Even though Yeoroe was not in Jeong Yeon-shin’s hands, it remained sharp.

In the burst of blood, Tae Yeom-ryong’s gaze burned with flame-like intensity.

There wasn’t even time for the stench of blood to spread.

The sprays of blood evaporated in an instant, consumed by the blazing yang energy.

Ever since learning of Jeong Yeon-shin’s lifespan, the genius who had completely abstained from poppies was now clawing back the years he once burned away meaninglessly.

He continues to lose.

He continues to challenge.

From amidst the hazy scene, the Great King Vajra’s voice rang out, casual as ever.

"This won’t end day or night.

Might stretch on seven nights and a month more."

It was due to Tae Yeom-ryong’s inexhaustible yang energy and Heukhwan’s overwhelming might.

Spring in the Black Land was scorching hot.

Eventually, the entire city blazed with heat never experienced before.

The wind howled.

***

In the deep mountain valleys, the wind could be seen.

It was because the bare tree branches swayed as if greeting their companions.

Even the sight of faint wind rising into the sky was the same.

Sarak.

Because it carried demonic energy, the black hair fluttered wildly.

It was Baek Mi-ryeo.

Just a moment ago, she seemed poised to overwhelm the world—

But now, only emptiness remained.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Jeong Yeon-shin, catching her as she collapsed with closed eyes, felt it.

The First Heavenly Demon had fully ascended.

"Sister."

Knowing she was unconscious, he called her just once.

The pronunciation that formed in his mouth didn’t feel awkward at all.

Perhaps it would be that way for all of the old Bright Demon One Path.

Even calling Cheongmyeong and Hyeon Won-chang “brother” wouldn’t feel unnatural.

Was it thanks to the Heavenly Demon?

Jeong Yeon-shin thought that perhaps, one day, that kind of future might come to pass.

If he could somehow overcome his fate and quietly wash his hands at the seat of the Divine Sword Corps Master.

Ssssh.

As he held Baek Mi-ryeo in his arms, her face drew closer.

Her long eyelashes rested low—

She seemed to be in a deep sleep.

In that moment, a revelation began to awaken deep within his upper core.

“Guess she’ll be asleep for a long while.”

That’s what Jeong Yeon-shin thought.

How severe must the backlash be after manifesting the Heavenly Demon’s movement?

Was Baek Mi-ryeo in the middle of absorbing the divine fragment left behind by the founding patriarch of the Ming Cult into her upper dantian?

Either way, she was safe. For now, that was enough.

Step.

As he retraced his steps in silence, the mountain of thousands of martial artists came back into view—though it had shrunk considerably. Judging from the gaps above and along the perimeter, many must have already fled.

“The protective inner qi is heavily tangled. Masters, suppress your internal energy!”

“I don’t wanna die buried here! You suppress yours first!”

“Invincible So-cheon, please put me down already...!”

And then, there were those with their backs turned to all that chaos. Naturally, the first ones he saw were the Six Origin Stars and the Immortals of Mount Hua.

The giant Moon Gok, still dripping with blood, asked with eerie calm,

“You’ve returned?”

His body bore shallow sword marks all over, fitting of someone known as the top external force user. That was what it meant to be struck by the combined assault of the old-school Immortals—an assault even Jeong Yeon-shin would’ve struggled to withstand after the battle he had just fought.

“You’re pushing yourself. I sensed the signature of the Heartless Union Lord coming from Zhongnan Mountain.”

Moon Gok gave a wry smile.

“He’s gotten absurdly strong. Fortunately, he didn’t unleash the Full Moon Dance—had he done so, I would’ve lost my head to that sword.”

He gestured with his chin. There stood the Sword Hermit, shrouded in a faint, plum-like mist swirling around a single blade.

―The two elders at his flanks are called Gi Seong-ja and Gi Hwa-ja. In terms of sword force and shockwave alone, they’re nearly on par with the Northern King. You could say they’re the true power behind Mount Hua.

Even in his whispered transmission, Moon Gok’s voice carried sincere admiration. Still, Gi Hwa-ja’s left arm had been horribly mangled—thanks to that strategist who crushed any chance at reconciliation.

“You’ve truly done it now.”

The Sword Hermit’s aged lips moved slowly.

“You’ve communed with the Heavenly Demon, haven’t you?”

His tone was like a winter breeze—clear and chilling. But Jeong Yeon-shin calmly shook his head.

“I’ve merely learned how to destroy the demon within me.”

“To say that as if it were a lesson learned... Your demonic qi has risen higher than ever. Clearly, you spoke with the Heavenly Demon and improved your demonic cultivation. How do you explain that?”

He wasn’t wrong.

Where once all the wheels of his Radiant Wheel Technique had nearly lost their light, now, even a single one—the Shadow Wheel—was turning silently. He had reached a state where he could freely manifest the martial arts he’d acquired at the Ming Cult’s main temple.

Jeong Yeon-shin offered a faint smile.

“There’s a cluster of clear stars within my demonic qi.”

“......”

The Sword Hermit fell silent. His wrinkled lips stopped moving. For a moment, he might’ve sensed traces of the Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek in Jeong Yeon-shin’s aura and words. It was something only possible for a Sword Immortal of Mount Hua, deeply refined through righteous martial arts.

Jeong Yeon-shin looked away.

“Jeong-jeong-ah.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Dan Jeong-jeong answered with a muddled voice.

Her once neat forehead and half her face were swollen, with dark crimson blood crusting around her lips. Her entire body looked battered.

“I lost to an old man with no arms and a sealed dantian. I’m ashamed... I let him get away.”

Jeong Yeon-shin realized she meant Spear King Ak Bi-gang.

It made sense—Dan Jeong-jeong now held a long black spear. That was the Ink-Forged Spear, the very weapon Ak Bi-gang had used to shatter the main gate of Ipwang Fortress when the Seven Tyrants of Ruin invaded. It seemed she had managed to stop him from taking it.

“Well done.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better for you to cut his head off beforehand?”

She spoke without concern, even in front of Mount Hua’s Immortals. Jeong Yeon-shin was at a loss for words for a moment, and then a one-armed elder interjected—Gae Bong-gyeong, Lord of the Kaebong Clan.

“That would’ve caused far more harm than good.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Sooner or later, the return of the Divine Sword Corps will be known throughout the world. The sects and martial artists who either helped destroy Ipwang Fortress or turned a blind eye will be thrown into panic. But if, as soon as you descend, you also kill me and the Spear King? They’ll band together—with the fortress in the middle—as if rebuilding the old Hanjung Martial Alliance.”

The Seven Tyrants of Ruin.

A reformed Tianxia Tree.

The former legends returning from seclusion.

The Central Plains distancing itself from the Northern Beast Clan.

The rising powers of the Grand Pure Alliance and the Four Star Martial League.

‘And more.’

The Fist God.

The Blade Sovereign.

And all those who had either witnessed or sensed Jeong Yeon-shin walking alongside the First Heavenly Demon.

Then, it happened.

Jeong Yeon-shin stretched his sense of time to its absolute limit.

Two things unfolded in a flash.

First, a colossal serpent’s head rose from a foggy, stagnant portal with its jaws wide open.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, the Seven-Colored Saberwoman plummeted straight down—skewered through by a single sword.

The moment he realized that sword belonged to the joint headmaster—

KRAAAAAAANG!

A vertical sword-light pierced through both the Saberwoman’s abdomen and the serpent’s skull, fusing them into one.

Blinding white energy surged, and the shockwave slammed outward, lowering every surrounding peak by nearly a full meter.

As the explosion roared in all directions, the serpent’s breath came to a sudden stop. It had been impaled before it could fully emerge.

Cough!

The Saberwoman’s blood-spitting cough rang clearly.

The clouds surging from the blade lodged in her gut were the Rising-Heaven Demon-Subduing Divine Force—a Taoist art powerful enough to crush her blood-drenched qi completely. And she had withstood it long enough for Jeong Yeon-shin to commune with the Heavenly Demon.

In the next moment, he was face-to-face in the sky with the old sage of the Bright Clan—the one who had just attacked.

The Later-Heavenly Star Sage.

An elderly man with snow-white hair and eyes.

His faded robes billowed like a fairy’s sleeves, but not even a hint of energy leaked from his body.

“You’re free to call my methods excessive,” he said in a classically formal tone.

“I was born without much to boast of, so I devoted my life to broadening my heart. But the deeper I pursued that path, the more my martial arts grew instead. This cowardice, unbecoming of a Taoist sect’s headmaster, has always been a source of grief for my elders.”

Saaaah—

The more he spoke, the fiercer and sharper the wind became.

He didn’t even hold a sword, and yet his aura resonated with the form of the Demon-Subduing Sword Style—layered atop the Rising-Heaven Divine Force.

“Can you stop my cowardice?” he asked. “I’d rather not cross blades with you.”

Was this his innate ability?

Somehow, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the Later-Heavenly Star Sage could wield sword techniques even barehanded.

Right now, he was a threat unlike any before—even the Mount Hua Immortals below looked up in awe.

The Rising-Heaven Divine Force, despite being a Taoist art, was tyrannical in nature. Merely unleashing it could suppress even the most heretical martial artists. And all Jeong Yeon-shin had left was demonic qi.

Surely the sage had already seen through him.

Right now, with nothing more than a formal stance, he could send the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps plummeting from the air.

A few breaths passed.

And still, Jeong Yeon-shin stood in midair, his expression calm.

He had activated a technique.

The Secret Art of Obeying Heaven: Smoke and Embers, Hidden Yearning.