Faint sunlight flowed over the fortress walls. Dawn at Ipwang Fortress. Two shadows were cast on the chipped and fractured stone wall.

Their sizes differed. It was due to their respective builds.

“What did you just say...?”

“Divine Sword Strategist. That’s what the Sword Heaven called him.”

“Wartime enlistment? Of the enemy, no less.”

Im Jin-myeong lifted his head, hands clasped behind his back. Only after lifting it fairly high could he meet his opponent’s gaze. He spoke to Mun Gok.

“What’s your true intent? What you truly aim to achieve through Lord Jeong.”

A question dropped in a low voice. But Mun Gok’s shadow hung even heavier. The face of the giant, with the sunlight at his back, was obscured in dimness like a mask of chaos. Only eerily clear Chinese flowed from him.

“To clarify first, it’s not conscription but enlistment. Our causes aligned, so it came to be.”

Im Jin-myeong shook his head.

“As the acting Lord of this fortress, I can’t just overlook someone like you. You’d be an immense help right now... But to place someone who could turn into an enemy at any moment by Lord Jeong’s side— This fortress isn’t in a position to take that kind of gamble.”

“Hm. A steward of an organization must stay centered at all times, that’s true.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

Im Jin-myeong lowered his arms. At some point, a large brush had appeared in his hand, and instead of ink, it was dripping clear qi. A sign that a formation was about to be activated. Not an attack, but a precaution before saying something heavy.

“Mun Gok of the Six Origin Star Lords is said to be the northern Martial God’s strongest ally, his divine power said to threaten all of creation. As the number one external martial artist in the north, you must wield the strongest strike in the world.”

“It’s only enough to hold a brush.”

“It’s like placing a thunder bomb in a house just beginning to rebuild after utter ruin. If another great storm hits here, Ipwang Fortress won’t rise again. This fortress, which once symbolized dominance over the martial world, had its dignity shattered by the Tyrant Hero and the Seven Overlords.”

Im Jin-myeong muttered bitterly and turned his gaze past the fortress wall.

“That’s why I ask you. If you would voluntarily enter the prison formation in this fortress, then we’ll seek your strength and wisdom when needed. If that’s too much, then please leave the fortress.”

Each breath added more weight to his words. He was resolute. Even the ever-composed Mun Gok tilted his head slightly. He said:

“For someone as cultivated in the upper dantian as yourself, you must’ve sensed I spoke no lies... Please, become like Bao Shuya.”

An old story invoked. Of a powerful man in the old State of Qi who made Guan Zhong—the man who once shot him—his Prime Minister and ascended as ruler. Bao Shuya was the minister who recommended Guan Zhong.

“The Qi lord who appointed an enemy became one of the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period. One of the rulers of a chaotic world at the time.”

“......”

“Sword Heaven, standing alone in this age of chaos, is the same. He’s no different from the Qi lord before appointing Guan Zhong.”

An heir of a nation with no ruler. A Divine Sword Corps Leader in a fortress with no Lord. And Bao Shuya was the man who yielded his post to someone greater than himself. At that, Im Jin-myeong let out a hollow laugh.

“How arrogant.”

“To you, it may seem that way.”

The pressure that suffocated Im Jin-myeong in that moment wasn’t from Mun Gok’s intent. [N O V E L I G H T] His internal breath stopped for a moment.

“......”

This is what someone on the level of the Five Heavenly Swords is like. Just standing there makes the person in front of them crumble inwardly. Their complete unity of essence, energy, and spirit overwhelms others.

Mun Gok smiled softly.

“If it’s something that must be clarified, then please speak freely. Though I’m the northern Border King, I sometimes lose sight of proper manners and laws...”

Suddenly, Im Jin-myeong’s vision darkened. A voice boomed inside his head like echoes in a deep cave. Naturally, Jeong Yeon-shin and the Divine Sword Corps came to mind. What kind of battle had they fought in the north?

Damn it.

Im Jin-myeong opened his mouth with difficulty.

“You’re being excessively modest. I heard you were a scholar who passed the Ming dynasty’s civil service exam.”

The atmosphere immediately softened, like clouds dispersing. Mun Gok’s overwhelming presence shrank in humility. As if he’d been caught in Langseong’s Heaven Net Breathing Technique.

“Indeed, though I seem unfamiliar with manners and law, I can shine brightly like the rising sun. To think you knew I was not only a juren, but also a jieyuan— You are truly well-informed.”

“Not to that extent...”

“How about we divide the command into internal and external? I initially intended to handle everything myself, but seeing your insight and decisiveness, Grand Commander, that approach seems cleaner.”

Just as Im Jin-myeong tested Mun Gok’s thoughts, Mun Gok had also been observing Im Jin-myeong— As they conversed through the entire morning.

“......”

By the time chills crawled up Im Jin-myeong’s spine, the current Divine Sword Corps Leader returned to the fortress with his companions. He immediately ascended to the inner fortress where the Ming Emperor awaited. Reconstruction was underway everywhere even in the absence of the Lord.

***

“So the Divine Sword Corps Leader made it back alive. Didn’t Head Monk say that so-called battle god was nearly the strongest in the world?”

“Amitabha.”

“If one’s cultivation is lacking, even Mount Hua’s Living Sword is useless. As Head Monk said, maybe we really should call that young man to the main mountain. Before Wonjeok fully turns into a monster.”

“Beom-ryeol, there are few in the world as busy with matters public and private as that young man. Timing must be right.”

“Timing is made by men. If necessary, shouldn’t we open Bodhidharma’s meditation cave? That damn wall won’t wear down just by looking at it. And don’t call that nonsense and smack the back of my head again. The main mountain’s on the verge of collapse—soon we’ll be broke...”

“That’s a good idea.”

“...Hm?”

“Send word.”

***

The message from Myungryu Commander Hahоe Wi-jin reached the streets of Luoyang through the crowd-filled marketplace. Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled ever so slightly.

— Be cautious. Luoyang has fallen to the martial uprising of the Grand Sun Justice League. This is no longer the Ming Dynasty.

A vibration struck the Yongcheon Acupoint on the soles of their feet. It was the message transmission of the Myungryu Sect's secret technique, the Earth King Word Transmission Method—sent through white-rank internal energy.

“They must have stayed in position, believing we’d come down again. Well, if it’s Luoyang, that makes sense...”

“......?”

At Hahоe Wi-jin’s mutter, a presence nearby flinched. It was a young man also hidden under a gray fluttering robe. Once captured while spying on the Divine Sword Corps in the northern Yeoklu Fortress—he was the One-Sword Tiger of Simmuryun.

Now, with his acupoints sealed, he couldn’t utter a single word.

Though once said to be the successor of Youngcheon Sword Demon Baek Seo-goon, to Hahоe Wi-jin, that meant little. Luoyang, stepped into to chase the Four Star Martial Alliance, was now practically a demonic realm.

‘What the hell kind of monsters are this many...?’

Easily in the hundreds.

Civilians and martial artists were mixed together. The rumor that the Grand Sun Justice League was calling this a popular uprising didn’t seem exaggerated.

Familiar robes and internal energy swirled through the enormous marketplace. In this era of chaos, the sight of brightly colored silk martial uniforms glittering was surreal. Regional dialects blended in, making it resemble a bazaar.

“When do we begin?”

“Soon.”

“Plenty of pests attached...”

“They’ll be dealt with soon. The former Clan Leaders have arrived.”

Most were renowned martial families or blade-wielders who lived by swordsmanship—Central Plains martial artists gathered as one. Compared to before the move north, their internal energy had reached a new peak. It was as if the earth’s energy, unable to seep into the ground, was caught in the cycle of energy exchange.

— You there.

A sound transmission from the One-Sword Tiger of Simmuryun. It was a strained voice wrung out despite sealed internal energy.

— I doubt you believe your Reverse Bone Energy Flow is flawless. You’re not the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. This is the martial capital of the Central Plains.

— You’ve got sharp eyes. And how did you know all the Commanders are mimicking Jin Myeong-jo?

He was there to survey the situation. A kind of inspection.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Though white-rank members of Myungryu had been scattered in key cities, the truly critical ones always had black-rank agents stationed.

As Hahоe Wi-jin scanned the surroundings, his gaze fell upon a convoy. A group dragging an unusually large number of short individuals deep into Luoyang. They were artisans—Iron Clan blacksmiths who had once worked in Ipwang Fortress’s foundry.

They were treating the spoils of war like stolen goods.

‘These bastards...?’

And then it began.

“It’s started! The king’s remains are in the jar!”

“For real...!”

“Die even after death! Long live Daesun!”

It was at the entrance of a plaza.

On a high stone wall, seemingly raised by the Iron Clan, sat a brazier with a massive jar placed like a cauldron. Dense smoke billowed upward.

It looked like an execution platform.

Killing the dead a second time.

— The body of Prince Ju Tae-il is inside.

A follow-up report came from the Myungryu white-rank agent.

— Though once a collaborator of the Grand Sun Justice League, the wealth and food hoarded in his royal manor exceeded tolerable limits. He was dragged from Jiangxi under orders from the Revolutionary Directorate to be cooked and eaten.

Prince Ju Tae-il.

He had promised Jeong Yeon-shin numerous times to offer great support, only to disappear from Ipwang Fortress once the Divine Sword Corps moved north. Now, he was being used to symbolically exalt the Grand Sun Justice League’s revolutionary cause.

A scrawny swordsman struck the jar with his hilt, releasing a clear chime. A dense surge of internal energy rippled out like waves on a lake.

Tung—

Qibao Divine Lord Gao Jie.

A face known throughout Ipwang Fortress’s martial records. Former Sword Commander of the Revolutionary Directorate, a vagabond said to have mastered seven martial disciplines, undefeated in northern Jiangbei.

“Where is the Second Emperor? Where is the Second Emperor!?”

“You are the Emperor! The Emperor that walks!”

Cheers erupted, with fists now raised high. The crowd—both civilians and martial artists—were ecstatic. Most were gaunt and skeletal. The mob, originally in the hundreds, had swelled to thousands, now tens of thousands.

Every nearby alley overflowed with people.

The fervor was overwhelming.

It was like roasting a ruler alive as a purge for long-standing famine. Though not a demon realm, impossible events were playing out before their eyes.

Even though Songshan was within a half-day’s travel by light body technique. Despite Shaolin, the most orthodox sect of all, being just nearby—Grand Sun Justice League had long dyed Luoyang as their own kingdom.

‘They say they raided noble houses and clans to shower wealth across the conquered lands...’

Meanwhile, Hahоe Wi-jin’s vicinity was quiet.

“.......”

Unlike the chaos ahead, the area right around him had few people.

[The one boiling in that jar is the remnant of a rotten Ming prince. His greed knew no bounds—squeezing the people to fatten his own stores. Even during unprecedented famine, he gorged himself and the royal court. In the end, he groveled to the Revolutionary Directorate, only to be cut down with a single stroke.]

Qibao Divine Lord’s low, echoing martial transmission filled the air.

Meanwhile, an eerie silence thickened around Hahоe Wi-jin.

They’d been discovered.

Sweat beaded on the back of the One-Sword Tiger’s neck. If not for his sealed energy, he looked ready to flee. Hahоe Wi-jin was no different.

Had it not been for the sudden blow to his head, he would’ve dodged immediately.

It was the spiritual will of the World Tree itself.

— My son, you must be weary. Connect with me and find peace.

‘Son, my ass. I don’t even have parents.’

Then it happened.

A giant shadow fell across the brazier cooking the prince’s remains. Clearly not of Han descent, judging by the physique.

“Just one bite.”

A dark figure loomed over Qibao Divine Lord Gao Jie and spoke. Simultaneously, immense waves of internal energy landed nearby.

Four elders in brightly colored long robes fluttered down gracefully. From their impossibly light and rapid movements, they could only be the previous Clan Leaders.

“Six Yuan Star General Mun Gok.”

“That body is indeed absurd.”

As a third-party observer, Hahоe Wi-jin felt the situation had suddenly surged forward uncontrollably.

And Gao Jie’s response was even more dramatic.

“Shall I serve you a double portion?”

“Oh...”

Luoyang had already become a city of madmen.

The decisiveness of the Grand Sun Justice League far surpassed Ipwang Fortress. In the sweltering air, the crowd’s breath wavered and swelled.

The elite warriors of the Grand Sun Justice League began emerging from inns, alleys, and all corners—surrounding Hahоe Wi-jin.

“That burn-scarred giant is the Commander of Ipwang Fortress, one of the emperor’s most loyal dogs!”

“Let’s cook him too! There’s not enough meat!”

Such was the madness of the starving.

As the crowd clutched the pot containing the disgraced prince and began to encircle Hahоe Wi-jin—

They were suddenly slaughtered by a single sword strike from a newly appeared, straw-hatted, one-armed swordsman.