The reaction split immediately.

The domain of an instant.

Master Sambong had a vaguely smiling expression, half hidden by mystery, while far in the distance, Wolpung in his pink long robe, who had been running, halted on the spot as he restrained the young Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

At the same time, the young Grand Empress Dowager Wi Yeon spun around sharply toward Jeong Yeon-shin, swinging her long legs like a whip.

‘The speed...!’

Without even a chance to draw his sword, Jeong Yeon-shin’s raised arm was struck head-on.

Kwaaaaaaang!

The bushes flattened like a plain and even dug into the earth beneath. The ground split open with a loud, crackling roar. Beneath his skin, blade-like sword qi poured in, as if using a heavy attack method. It burst from the forearm that had blocked Wi Yeon’s foot.

A shrill ringing, like blade winds clashing, resounded within his body. If not for the enhanced Jeong Family Internal Arts, even his muscles, acupoints, and meridians would have been torn apart by this single strike. Even though it was clearly a formal technique.

Jeong Yeon-shin instantly realized.

‘Natural form.’

She had transcended the limits of form and style.

She unfolded peerless sword arts with her legs, and even her toes contained the mysteries of palm techniques, amplifying the force. Even her reaction speed was astonishing. It felt as if instead of blood, a gale stormed through her veins.

Swiik.

Meanwhile, Wi Yeon, finding her blow rendered void, slowly withdrew her foot. The movement was so controlled, like sheathing a sword after drawing it, that it was unbefitting of a natural form master who could strike at full power from any posture.

Behind her.

Perhaps concerned about Master Sambong, who had somehow already stood leisurely with his hands clasped behind his back.

“You ask for directions? Someone like you, here...?”

Wi Yeon quietly countered.

In that moment, she stood tall enough to match Jeong Yeon-shin’s eye level, her green eyes shining like a lakeshore on a mountain's foot.

Her splendid golden royal robe, the ceremonial attire of an empress, billowed without tearing even against the turbulent reverse wind. Jeong Yeon-shin noticed that its material was the same as his own long robe.

‘A treasured cloth that only the Ming imperial family can craft.’

Wi Yeon seemed to realize the same, her straight brows narrowing slightly.

“You are...?”

Meeting her gaze silently for a brief moment, Jeong Yeon-shin sensed a different temperament from the old Grand Empress Dowager. A storm-like vitality existed within her.

‘An absurdly vigorous nature. Her martial arts must be the same.’

At that moment.

“Did His Majesty send you? I haven't seen the royal visage in a long time, but he must be quite impatient.”

The iron-flat voice softened like a breeze. At the same time, a glance at the 荒 (Wilderness) character near Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder, and within those green eyes, there bloomed, unbelievably, a springlike affection.

“So reckless... Perhaps the dragon’s heart may indeed falter. But even so, His Majesty should not be sending unfathomable masters like you as mere messengers. Ah, without me, His Majesty’s judgment weakens this much.”

At the same time, Monk Wonjeok’s transmission of Bright Insight swiftly poured into Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.

—Just as the sacred earth qi, instead of returning to the ground, keeps spawning strong beings endlessly, in this era, countless hidden masters and nameless ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) powers sprouted from mountains, forests, and gates. Some peerless experts even exploited the founding era to covet fiefs...

—I could be mistaken for one of them, you mean.

—Indeed. Fortunately, things are proceeding well. If this continues peacefully, my death won't reset time to its starting point either.

‘I’ll have to take off the long robe first next time.’

Jeong Yeon-shin thought.

This was a world where Monk Wonjeok’s past could endlessly repeat. A miracle triggered by the activation of Cheonhamok. Where else would such an opportunity exist?

Since Grand Empress Dowager Wi Yeon was now one of the rare few formidable foes for Jeong Yeon-shin, he needed to experience her martial techniques as much as possible — to better protect the civilians and the people of Ipwang Fortress later on.

Meanwhile, the young Geumbyeokja and Monk Wonjeok had already distanced themselves from Wi Yeon. They seemed accustomed to the clan chief’s outbursts.

“When the Yuan Martial Gods invaded the root, it was just as chilling. Friend, I have a bad feeling. Should we sneak away for a bit...?”

Geumbyeokja whispered to Monk Wonjeok, who tilted his head.

—Your upper dantian abilities have advanced that far already? It seems about time you suppressed lightning, and probably around this period you entered the clan’s Jinseong Cheonsen Gong. It must’ve also been when you were nominated as one of the Four Great Guardians. You, who had once been like an unnamed disciple under Sambong...

Startled by the mind transmission clearly audible to Jeong Yeon-shin, Geumbyeokja retorted with a shocked face.

“You were chosen? You merged with our tree?”

“You always blurted out sharp words even with a dumbfounded face. It’s chilling.”

That was all.

Wi Yeon seemed used to the trivial chatter of her subordinates. For a moment, she seemed to savor the feeling of His Majesty’s heart as she slowly scanned Jeong Yeon-shin’s long robe with her eyes.

“...Regrettably, I cannot leave the clan’s nest immediately. You can see for yourself. That man standing before you, Sambong.”

“Wonshian Master.”

Beyond Wi Yeon’s shoulder, the elder with a hearty face spoke his courtesy name, laughing. His voice carried a refreshing clarity like pine scent. Perhaps because of that, the cluttered noise of mundane martial nicknames stacking like stickers in Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears cleared for a moment.

“As a wandering Seomye of the Jeong Family, I have long admired the Master Sambong. Though I did not expect to meet you like this today.”

At Jeong Yeon-shin’s cupped-fist salute, Wi Yeon’s brows furrowed. She realized he was no mere imperial messenger sent by Emperor Mingtae.

“...Remnants of the Yuan’s martial world, drifters seeking opportunities, mad masters obsessed with martial arts. Recently, many intruders have invaded the root. So Sambong is the prime instigator after all.”

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

“I am merely broadening my horizons through Cheonhamok. I have little interest in fruits.”

At the same time, the young Lord of Ipwang Fortress approaching alongside Wolpung staggered slightly, faltering midstep. To Jeong Yeon-shin, it was still hard to believe.

He had always assumed that the Immortal Swordmaster of the world had been perfect since birth.

‘...Even he had times like this. When his limbs were short and clumsy.’

On a personal level, it was a precious glimpse into a side of his future master he would never see again.

On a broader scale, it was an opportunity to study the unconscious gestures of the young Lord of Ipwang Fortress before his "Union" was complete.

Perhaps he was just using the latter as an excuse for the former.

Jeong Yeon-shin wanted to keep the image of his young master in his heart for as long as possible, but he had to focus on Wi Yeon too.

“To a wanderer with nothing but curiosity and martial ignorance, I say this: the clan’s tree is not a mere martial form to broaden your horizons.”

She spoke brightly.

She had already dropped her hands naturally to her waist, but that relaxed, equestrian posture felt like a pre-battle stance, a dragon’s rise about to burst forth.

‘Natural form... Somewhere between the God of War and Namje.’

In other words, equivalent to Emperor Gunreung.

The final bulwark of the Ming Dynasty who had once cloaked Jeong Yeon-shin in a violet long robe with overwhelming mystery.

“I will not flaunt the imperial authority against a master like you. But return now. I will not say it twice.”

And she meant it.

Jeong Yeon-shin silently engraved Wi Yeon’s micro-muscle movements and energy flow into his eyes rather than her words.

And as three breaths passed—

He met her attack.

“You’re a madman.”

It manifested without warning from Wi Yeon’s approaching grasp.

Uuuung—

The gentle breeze, the dazzling sunlight, the blades of grass underfoot—everything swirled together like dandelion seeds and began to form the shape of a long sword.

A faint, light-green formless sword whistled high like a flute, vibrating sharply.

Immediately, the air shimmered and distorted as if scorched under summer sunbeams. The space itself seemed to flinch.

‘Perhaps this woman was the one who taught His Majesty of Gunreung in his youth.’

Separate from Jeong Yeon-shin’s thoughts, the few observers present were not especially surprised by her formless sword.

Rather, after briefly glancing up at the suddenly darkened sky, they found their eyes irresistibly drawn to Jeong Yeon-shin’s right hand.

“......!”

Already a sword was gripped there, so refined it was hard to call it mere metal.

It was as if he had forged a single sword out of the starry night sky itself.

‘Let’s go.’

Jjeojeojeojeojeong―!

It took but an instant to deflect Wi Yeon’s formless sword that had slashed right before his eyes.

The overwhelming rebound force burrowed into his palm like molten lava for a moment, but soon—

The surrounding bushes and hills were swept away entirely, swallowed by the midnight blue sword wind gleaming under the starry heavens.

***

Tak, tadak.

Here and there, dark blue sparks sizzled from the half-burnt ashes. Smoke faintly rose above them. The acrid smell pricked the nose, mostly the burnt odor caused by the friction heat of monstrous strikes.

Jeong Yeon-shin stood on the ground where only soil and flames remained, like an enormous crater. He glanced at the empty spots where Master Wonjeok and Geumbyeokja had been blown away without even a trace of their remains.

‘...Twelfth regression.’

He thought.

Why did they all explode so easily?

“Wanderer, you are nothing but a tyrant who enthroned martial arts itself. Do you so desperately wish to observe the Cheonhamok? Or perhaps, do you seek immortality?”

Ten steps ahead. Wi Yeon, gripping the formless sword lowered to her feet, asked the question. It was the seventh time he'd heard it already. Even though they had barely exchanged a hundred movements during all their clashes. Because of Master Wonjeok, who kept bursting like some bizarre fish from the South Sea.

‘Her attack openings change every time.’

Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his eyes.

‘Because of her natural body. From every posture, countless variations emerge. It's a realm different even from my master’s.’

After experiencing it repeatedly, he understood. In this outer timeline, there was no one in Ipwang Fortress who could match her. Her body, and even her essence and spirit, were aging—but the Union Ability of the Cheonhamok must have offset that decay.

Perhaps only Mun Gok could restrain Wi Yeon to some extent.

‘However.’

Mun Gok was still only a temporary ally, with no strong bond yet. As the leader of the Divine Sword Corps, Jeong Yeon-shin could not rely heavily on him. The same applied to the prisoners he had taken into the Corps.

At that moment, just before being pulled back into the past again, Master Sambong, who had been standing far off, spoke. There was a trace of boredom etched in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, where only hearty cheerfulness had once existed.

“Daoist is a peculiar person.”

“Yes?”

“You said you admired this old Taoist, yet you do not seek any sword dance teachings from me. Unlike the countless martial artists wandering the turbulent world. And yet, I even forged the Natural Sword to hide the blade dangling at my waist.”

It was a gentle conversation.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly shook his head.

“I can see clearly the echo of the Enlightened One's Songmungo Sword. However...”

“However?”

Master Sambong looked at him full of curiosity. Jeong Yeon-shin answered calmly.

“Isn't true completion something one must find on their own?”

Ilwon. Heojong.

He was taught never to seek out teachings. Because he had kept a broken mirror called So Cheonmujuk close by, he knew. The transcendence of a grandmaster does not lie in imitation. He had realized this clearly after breaking the great wheel. Merely walking a path that others had already tread could never make one the greatest of all times.

Thus, in this infinite world of regressions, what Jeong Yeon-shin must avoid above all else—

Was precisely the existence known as Jang Sambong.

‘As the saying goes, if you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha.’

Perhaps because even the sensation of time rewinding was becoming tangible, Jeong Yeon-shin, amidst the scenery blurring away, heard for the first time an unfamiliar sound.

Master Sambong was laughing heartily.

***

When that aged laughter faded without leaving even a trace, Jeong Yeon-shin found himself back amid a thicket of grass.

‘I must stop trying to understand Wi Yeon. The Natural Body is a realm where learning is useless.’

He reached a silent conclusion.

And slowly took a step forward. Suppressing all traces of his presence to the extreme, as if his entire body had become transparent.

― Benefactor, if you intend to peel this humble one away through deathly pain, give it up. Even a hundred years of facing a wall could not achieve that.

― I apologize. For now, I won’t head that way.

― I shall find another way... hmm? What are you doing? Where are you?

― Wi Yeon is already complete. I intend to observe my master and the Cheonhamok one after another.

Step.

At that moment, bursting across space like a gale across the wilderness, Jeong Yeon-shin had scooped the green-eyed girl into his arms.

At the same time, he absorbed the counterattack’s blade wind—erupting from her whole body like full-body Palm Force—into his protective inner strength.

“......!”

This was before the young master and Wolpung had reached Master Wonjeok’s group. The scabbard of the Ip-myeol Sword, longer than the young master's own body, scraped across the dirt as it floated up.

Master Wonjeok's shocked voice echoed.

― Whom are you kidnapping...!

Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer. For at that moment, Wolpung’s sword flashed pure white nearby.

[Are you a martial artist of the Yuan Empire!]

A pure white lightning bolt tore through the inner energy shield at his side, bursting blood from within. The Suncheon Ik White Lightning Sword Style. The searing pain of the sword wound felt as real as reality itself. He hadn’t realized their martial prowess had reached such heights.

‘Has the Suncheon Ik line regressed...?’

Along with that doubt, he once again stepped using the World’s Fastest Step.

The world blurred and distorted. In the next instant, Jeong Yeon-shin stood in a desolate forest. Cradling the fifteen-year-old young master of Ipwang Fortress in his arms like a pillow.

“I apologize. I lacked composure.”

“Let go.”

Before he could even set her down, the girl stomped down on his knee and distanced herself.

In an instant, she widened the gap by over thirty steps.

Rustle.

Jeong Yeon-shin quietly watched her descend like a leaf carried by the wind. It resembled the body technique of the Wind God—light, swift, and ethereal.

‘So that’s the kind of foundation she uses when entering fierce battles.’

Already, the results showed.

No matter what events might unfold nearby later, for Jeong Yeon-shin, the present gain and joy were everything.

He had always wished to spend such a moment with his master. Just like others did.

He slowly opened his mouth.

“Would you care to try something?”

The girl stared at the politely asking Jeong Yeon-shin as if looking at a madman.