“You there...! Are you with Haomun?”

“I’m just a herb gatherer.”

“Judging by your rat-like footwork, you’re with Haomun. You probably guessed from my voice, but I’m a eunuch. Name’s Myeongyeo. In any case, good timing...! Come here quickly.”

“...I’m Jang Sun-il. But why are you alone, looking like that?”

“Help deliver the Emperor’s command. I’m being chased by the bloodline of Cheonhamok. By ghost-like martial devils trying to stop this...”

“I heard His Majesty is at Ipwang Fortress. No way he’d send someone on such an important mission without guards.”

“There were guards, but they’re gone. Just left. Told me to survive on my own. Even took the divine eagles of the royal network—Shineung—with them. Not just theirs, mine too! If I still had those fast birds, I wouldn’t need to be so cautious now.”

“What are you talking about? You sound insane.”

“I still don’t understand it. How... how could those who stood as the Ming’s final bastion...? Even after losing their subordinates—more like family—in the hellscape forged by the Six Original Star Lords, they stayed loyal without breaking, like divine swords. And yet, now...”

“Stop rambling. I’m busy.”

“He was a Tyrant Hero.”

“What?”

“The Three-Front Great General.”

***

A vast mountain slope.

The crowd was packed like a bountiful reed field.

Martial groups had swarmed in from every region.

The Executioner of the Gate—Chammun. One who cut down a sect’s front gate. The event that Ipwang’s Divine Sword Corps leader, Seomye, caused inside Shaolin had that kind of ripple effect.

A duel on such a level, unprecedented in the past century of Zhongyuan’s martial world, and held right at Shaolin’s gates.

“Disappointing.”

The voice spilled out from beneath the straw hat of a blind man. He stood with his back to the worn-down temple gate. One arm, one leg. Balancing on his right leg alone, he pushed forward with a blue-tinted sword held in his left hand. That alone was enough to subtly push back the black sword that had met his blade, like a single unified pressure device.

Ggeugeugeung—

Even the opponent’s sense of balance was subsumed. A masterful sword technique, carried out with seamless naturalness by the blind man’s iron sword.

Child’s Dream.

A very famous sword. So much so that a commotion broke out among the crowd surrounding Shaolin’s gate.

“To think he’s truly the Lord of Cheongeuk Sect...!”

“Did Sama’s heretics imprison the Divine Sword Corps leader?”

“Then isn’t the other side in the right? Even the Twin Wall Sword Lord is trying to break through.”

In the midst of it all, shards of sword energy surged upward with terrifying intensity like a storm of sparks. Yet the moment they touched the Child’s Dream sword, they vanished skyward like lies, erupting with a muted boom. He had turned the strange, empty strikes of his blade into an absolute defense, like the Tai Chi Guarding Sword.

“Your orthodox swordplay was entertaining... but now, it’s nothing but a hideous thing unlike what I saw in Hangzhou.”

The voice of the Cheongeuk Sect Lord, laced with amusement, floated down beneath the distant roar above.

“Oho, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) just look at this perilous sword energy. Not even the Yuan dynasty’s sword-qi techniques were this intense. Uselessly overpowered. One wrong move and we’ll be shredded by sparks.”

There was not a trace of urgency in his tone. Even so, Cheongsu Jin-in, who had begun exchanging sword force with him, was not being pushed back in the slightest. He, too, had enough leeway to speak.

“You’ve become a murderous ghost, reaching that level under Sama’s banner.”

“Hmm?”

“Step aside. I have business with the former Divine Sword Corps master. Every word you say is self-contradictory.”

At the word “former,” the Cheongeuk Sect Lord tilted his head. But in that moment, he gave a glance toward the waist of the Dragonwill Blade Lord, who stood still within the prison of black flame mandala, and nodded easily.

“Ah, since both of us gained power through unorthodox ways, best to shut up? That’s fair enough. Aren’t we both madmen now?”

The blind man laughed.

“Go on, show me how far your sword has come.”

The Twin Wall Sword Lord, who on the surface looked just like a young Taoist and leader of Cheongseong Sect, wore an ever-calm expression.

But the hand holding his sword said otherwise.

As if recalling the events in Hangzhou, it began to tremble faintly, then swelled with blue and red sword energy like clouds from the hilt.

Сheongseong’s Azure Cloud Crimson Mist Sword Energy.

The mystery of void-variant bladeplay condensed transparently into the Child’s Dream sword—and was devoured in a flash.

No sound.

Even the “Thousand Catty Hammer” gravitational force that had been anchoring the Cheongeuk Sect Lord’s balance was torn apart into shreds.

It was a performance of invisible forces. This is what swordmasters in the Realm of Enlightenment looked like.

The two became engulfed in the rising tide of sword energy, their silhouettes barely visible, like those clashing at dawn on a riverside pier.

Within it, the Cheongeuk Sect Lord’s voice drifted calmly, like soft sunlight.

“Truly, your breaking technique is unique. No deceit, just solemn power.”

“I am Cheonhamok.”

“It feels exactly like your hands.”

Squelch!

From the mist of sword energy, a stream of blood quietly shot upward. Following the erratically twisted arc of the blade.

At the same time, Cheongsu Jin-in’s silhouette flickered—then split like a ghost, slicing past the Cheongeuk Sect Lord’s waist. Amid a dozen drops of blood, the startled voice of the Cheongeuk Sect Lord followed.

“Regenerative ability...?”

“I became a monstrous ghost following your path. I’m like the Bloodflame Cult Leader of years ago.”

“Still... it’s a bit soon to speak of him that way.”

Despite the banter that resembled a back-alley comedy act, the surrounding Azure Cloud Crimson Mist Sword Energy grew denser.

Unlike royal-style sword forms, it took on tangible form, dominating all directions. Even supreme masters couldn’t enter that sword zone without accumulating deep wounds.

Kugugugugung! Jjeojeojeong—!

The Cheongeuk Sect Lord’s silhouette became the center of an unending barrage of shockwaves. They tore through and shattered even hardened protective qi. The rolling fog masses were flung away by the ghost-like blade strikes of the void.

The aftershocks alone were enough to shake the very peak that had supported Shaolin for a thousand years. The onlookers, already far from the scene, retreated all the way down the eastern hill. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Cheongseong Sword School.

Originally, its blade style was one of omnidirectional slashes that settled life and death in an instant. Naturally, it couldn’t be sustained for long.

That’s why the Cheongeuk Sect Lord looked so bewildered.

“No other sword style could be this compatible with Cheonhamok. Your undeveloped middle dantian shouldn’t have lasted this long.”

That was as far as he got.

Cheongsu Jin-in said nothing more. With movements that left ghostly afterimages, he unraveled a silk-thread-like sword path like a lingering curse.

The clouds of Azure Cloud Crimson Mist began to drift toward Shaolin’s gate. Completely trapping the Cheongeuk Sect Lord.

The intent was clear.

“Hm. You don’t care about victory or defeat. You just want to reach the Northern Emperor no matter what.”

It was the giant strategist, Mun Gok.

Thud!

Fragments of blue-red sword energy flew toward him, and he casually caught and crushed them with bare hands. He then stomped down with massive force on the head of a particularly tall woman of the Ming bloodline. This, after already exchanging dozens of blows with North Dark Fist Lord of Cheonhamok.

The resistance was intense.

Krrruuuuumble—

The ground split open, and a storm of residual shockwaves erupted along spiderweb-like fractures. A bitter dust cloud settled.

At the center—

“......”

Mun Gok stood with one foot planted on the body of an ancient martial master as if using him as a stepping stone. With the calm gaze of a refined strategist, he surveyed the field.

“Stay still. The battlefield is chaotic.”

Those who blocked the gates of Shaolin.

At the center stood Mun Gok.

The foremost sword of the Deviants, whose intentions were still unreadable, was veiled in the mist to the left. The storm of sword energy unleashed by Cheongsu Jinin had long since stopped advancing—but neither had it dissipated.

On Mun Gok’s right stood the enigmatic Leader of the Myung Sect, obscured and revealed in turns by the fluttering orange hem of Yongji Sword Lord’s robe. The sunlight shimmered transparently across her sleek black hair and silver mask as she closed in to engage in close-quarter combat with the man who had broken her stealth technique in a single strike.

Zzuh-jeo-jeo-jeo-jeong!

Her long limbs whipped like lashes, striking at Yongji Sword Lord’s sword face and knees before recoiling. Exploding bursts of black shockwaves scattered like falling flower petals, teasing his vision. The sheer brilliance in avoiding even a single hit betrayed a monstrous level of genius.

‘Is that the Myung Phoenix God Form from the Myung Sect?’

Mun Gok pondered.

The Invincible of Socheon, Leader of the Myung Sect, Yalyul Jin.

A walking corpse. She was prolonging her life in defiance of nature with transcendental techniques. Naturally, Mun Gok had expected her to be less capable than rumors suggested. Hadn't they said she was like the North Emperor’s incompetent sister in Jinryeong Mountain Range?

[Frustrated you couldn’t catch me?]

She was exhibiting martial prowess beyond the power she should possess. If even once she got hit by the gale-like sword winds of Yongji Sword Lord—condensed as if forged from countless divine slashes—her entire body would be shredded like one of Mun Gok’s civil service exam sheets.

That much...

Yongji Sword Lord was different.

The head of the Four Great Protectors of Cheonhamok. Even as he was being toyed with by the Invincible of Socheon’s dance-like movements, his face remained expressionless. Instead, almost as if mimicking the Heavenly Eye Insight of the Berserker Asura, he stared calmly past the Shaolin walls, swinging his Divine Sword in place without any movement of footwork or stance.

Fwoosh—

Every sword path distorted the air into a translucent ripple. The space touched by the blade twisted like the fibers of a tree.

[Oh my?]

There was a devilish smile beneath the Invincible of Socheon’s silver mask, yet her snow-white garments danced splendidly while never entering the range of his strikes. Every moment was a massive evasion. As if wary of being sucked in and crushed entirely.

The Natural Sword.

‘If what we analyzed in the Demon Realm to assassinate the Lord of Ipwang Fortress is accurate...’

The Invincible of Socheon wouldn’t last long.

Would the Leader of the Myung Sect really sacrifice her remaining lifespan just to protect the former Sword Master?

Mun Gok shook his head inwardly. No, that couldn’t be.

A mysterious entity like the Invincible of Socheon would never fully reveal her true martial power here. It was only a matter of when she would retreat down the mountain.

Such was the Six Peak Army of the North Emperor.

A complete motley crew. To make proper use of them, the North Emperor had to be fully present and holding the reins. It was hard not to feel regret, even in this urgent moment.

‘Or perhaps, even beings like the Foremost Sword of the Deviants and the Leader of the Myung Sect are only loyal to those closest to the North Emperor, with whom he shares his authority...’

Mun Gok strategized, spreading his senses wide across the seventy-two vast peaks beneath Shaolin.

But it seemed the other party had different thoughts.

“If such a force was mobilized, whatever place it targeted should have fallen immediately.”

The voice came from beneath Mun Gok’s foot but rose in pitch as it spoke. The North Fist Lord was lifting herself up from under Mun Gok’s foot. A collision of monstrous force. Her head and Mun Gok’s foot began trembling violently, like countless afterimages overlapping one another.

Boom, booooom—

Cracks split across the surface of the peak, once solid as diamond thanks to Shaolin’s secret formations. The ground beneath their feet began to sway.

“Are you alright?”

Mun Gok asked calmly.

“You’re putting yourself in a rather humiliating position. And there are quite a few eyes watching. From ridge to ridge...”

“Humiliation.”

The North Fist Lord cut him off.

As with all those who had faced the Supreme Master of External Techniques, her sleeves and hem were scorched and torn, exposing bare muscle. Her hair, long and braided, could easily serve as a whip technique weapon in emergencies.

In that moment, her eyes flashed like a thunderstorm of blue lightning, but her lips moved slowly.

“You don’t know true disgrace.”

Her voice was rough. The temperament of a back-alley gangster. Her spirit was too distinct to be considered one with Cheonhamok.

Mun Gok showed interest.

“Those with bloated egos like you are the type to often get along with the North Emperor. What do you say? If you truly want to save Muguk, it would be better to side with the former Sword Master rather than Cheonhamok.”

“I despise the Sword Master the most.”

The North Fist Lord finally stood upright.

“...?”

Shock rippled through the crowd, including the Myung clansmen watching from afar. Mun Gok’s foot hadn’t moved at all. The North Fist Lord had risen by pressing the earth down beneath her, but her eye level still remained below Mun Gok’s foot.

“The Sword Master’s grudges are legendary.”

Mun Gok added, as if he never expected much anyway. Better to let that Divine Sword snap.

And then—

It all happened in an instant.

A presence stirred deep within Shaolin.

The sky darkened as though twilight had descended beneath a starry night, just from the feeling of someone rising to their feet.

Without a sound, like a colossal blade, a being with no soul burst forth through the peaks—charging forward in the perfect fusion of body and sword.

The scent of grass rose from the depths of the earth, as if in response to the encroaching dusk of the starry night.

And chasing it up, came the roar of a war god—exploding into thunderous laughter.

“......!”

Mun Gok’s ears rang. The trembling of the Shaolin gates ceased in an instant.

He flooded every meridian in his body with the core energy of Guhwanggi, sealing every pore tight, and realized with instinct.

It’s coming.

Everything.