Those gathered in the ruined canyon. There were ten.

The line between good and evil among martial artists is often impossible to discern. Like the top and bottom of a pebble rolling down a gentle cliff.

Tap, tap-tap—

For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s thoughts spun with the pebble that bounced toward the ten figures standing still.

The Bloodflame Cult was a deceitful and dangerous sect, but the Seventh Apostle, who saved Jeong Yeon-shin time and again, ultimately paved the way for him to become the Lord of the Divine Sword Corps. The cult’s wealth might have contributed to the Seventh Apostle’s growth, but by her hand, countless branches of the Bloodflame Cult were also erased. As many civilians survived as had perished.

That had been entirely the Seventh Apostle’s will.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled her sly, crimson eyes. What is she doing now?

A vision came to mind—of her pressing the cult’s headquarters for news of the recovery of the Divine Sword Corps Leader.

‘There’s another.’

In the Southern Emperor’s mind bloomed golden fertile lands. Now, in this age where cannibalism is rampant from famine, the Great Pure Alliance Lord wins the people's hearts.

And Lee Teum-je, ruler of Nangsong, who now nearly commands the entire Central Plains—what kind of man is he?

Jeong Yeon-shin no longer judges hastily.

Now was no different.

The silence of these ten, standing so close to the very summit of the martial world, weighed heavier than any pressure he had ever known.

“......”

He made a quiet judgment.

There are no good people here.

How could there be? Especially the six who had suddenly descended from the sky.

Mun Gok, the Blade of Heresy, the Master of the Light Sect.

The Dragonwill Blade Lord, the Lord of Northern Clarity, the Leader of the Pure Azure Sect.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s Brilliant Radiant Light shrouded them all like mist, sweeping across an immense distance to bring them here. It was a far superior technique compared to when he had used it against the Lord of Gold Thread Gate. A miracle beyond belief for anyone in the world—but not for Jeong Yeon-shin.

‘Of course.’

Tang Unhwang, the Poison Commander, had passed his understanding of the Brilliant Radiant Light to Jeong Yeon-shin in Hangzhou. That technique had fused with Jeong’s swordsmanship and /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ internal energy defense, and as the energy of the broken Wheel of Light coursed through his body, the 108 Arhat Formation supported him from afar.

Even among these masters with vast knowledge of Jianghu, most were visibly shocked. But Jeong Yeon-shin remained composed—his gaze calm, even relaxed as he scanned the group.

The blind man with the straw hat rested his sword cane like a staff and spoke, a stunned look on his face.

“Your spirit is immense. After causing such absurdity.”

“Don’t think you can flee through void-shifting. I’ll catch you first.”

“I ask sincerely—why did you do it?”

The Master of Celestial Extremes tilted his head and continued in a crooked tone,

“You've set off events so dire it wouldn’t be strange if you were crawling on the ground by now. Was it really necessary to go that far? I don’t understand your intent.”

“I’ll concede the right wing. It's a fitting place for a left-handed swordsman.”

Even as he said it, Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t expect the Master of Celestial Extremes to follow his suggestion. Even though that man had stood as his protector at the gates of Shaolin just days before—

‘It was unexpected, yes.’

But given his longstanding eccentricity, that action likely had been his own way of honoring Jeong’s slaying of a Gate Lord. He still couldn’t be considered a trustworthy ally.

And likely never would be. So long as that blind man remained a heretic in the martial world.

Thus, Jeong Yeon-shin focused instead on the power of Shaolin emanating from nearby Mount Song. A boiling, lava-like force surged from every meridian and acupoint in his body.

And he was certain. He was still at full strength.

***

The battlefield Jeong Yeon-shin had conjured—

Among all present, only one stood eye to eye with Mun Gok. At this moment, though spring wind whipped fiercely through the canyon, Mun Gok’s lips curved gently.

“God of War. It has been a long time.”

“Indeed it has,” the War God replied slowly.

“I still see your final form in my mind. You turned your back on the Star General and reached toward me...”

Mun Gok laughed.

“A great scar remains on my back. It doesn’t fade.”

It was only natural.

The Four Generals of the Starry Army, also known as the Generals of the Sun, Moon, Stars, and Constellations, had once served both Emperor Gunreung and the Grand Empress Dowager. Only four martial siblings in total. One died at Mun Gok’s hand in a brutal duel—leaving just three.

Thus, they were now called the Three Generals. Uncompromising dominators of the battlefield. Their killing intent was legendary.

Mun Gok had nearly died in that battle. Even among peerless masters, some are stronger than others. But in a clash between such beings, one moment of distraction could mean death.

The War God clicked his tongue.

“My honor is tarnished. People will now think you retreat as easily as breathing.”

“That’s not much of a blemish for a strategist. Besides, you can’t blame me—didn’t you get struck at the Emperor’s final stronghold?”

“Excuses.”

“That’s when our grand cause faltered. The Anti-War God faction splintered; we failed to predict the northward movement of the Divine Sword Corps, and even the Black Path was breached once.

For the record, the Northern Kings of the Anti-War God faction still thrive, making life miserable for Black Ring. They’re the heirs of the Southern Emperor—whom you yourself acknowledged.”

“That’s nothing...”

The War God shook his head—

Suddenly, a pure-white blade appeared in his hand.

With no warning, a cut nearly cleaved his side. It was stopped—barely.

The Dragonwill Blade Lord.

He had extended his flawless sword, orange robe fluttering like sunset as the breeze sliced around him. A swordsman in his prime.

His lifted blade whistled through the spring wind.

“You think you can bear our entire clan’s legacy alone and still handle one Great Gate by yourself...?”

The Dragonwill Blade Lord spoke as if humming a low melody.

“That is a path only for the powerful. But even the God of War of the North cannot replace the World Tree. A man and a divine tree—how can they be the same? Do not pretend righteousness is yours alone.”

The War God remained unfazed.

No matter what the Dragonwill Blade Lord said, he kept his gaze on Mun Gok and continued the story that had aged between them.

“You never answered the summons I sent you.”

“......”

“That is what matters to me.”

Mun Gok stayed silent, face unreadable.

Meanwhile, cold severity crept over the Dragonwill Blade Lord’s expression.

Fwoosh!

Sword light shimmered like sunlight.

A spray of blood burst from the War God’s palm. The crimson droplets turned to faint smoke the moment they touched air. Instantly, his body armor flared more intensely.

Rumble—

His inner energy barrier crystallized into translucent diamond, scattering rainbow light in every direction.

“Hmph...!”

Even surrounded by the northern Essence of Primordial Chaos, his trembling hand showed the pressure he faced.

A sword from the greatest swordsman of the World Tree—such an attack could not be answered with mere empty-handed deflection.

The War God smiled.

“...Dragonwill Blade Lord and Lord of Northern Clarity. Both names on the Southern Emperor’s kill list. I’m glad you came.”

“If we must weigh the lesser evil—then our clan shall prevail. Now die, with your so-called cause.”

The Dragonwill Blade Lord’s sword slipped from the massive grasp like water—the refined technique of a true swordsman who valued sheathing over drawing.

Zzzehhh-crack-crack!

Scarlet sparks bloomed in a row from the clash between inner energy barrier and blade, only to be smashed to pieces by the War God’s descending fist.

At the exact moment the Dragonwill Blade Lord raised his sword like a bolt of lightning, he struck the War God’s fingers with the sword edge—pressing them one by one.

A thunderous crash—the canyon floor dropped nearly a foot. The ground that had supported the ten had sunk, but the Dragonwill Blade Lord endured the War God’s punch right where he stood.

As if his stance had fused with the earth itself.

A technique that absorbed the War God’s punch—laden with flawless weight-distributing skill—and diffused the power into the ground like tree roots.

“...Divine Technique: Union of Steel Beneath the Tree.”

Mun Gok spoke while shaking off the Lord of Northern Clarity, who had crept up to his elbow.

She moved like sea foam in the tide—flickering and twisting through every posture.

Whenever Mun Gok made even a slightly larger motion, she slipped in, struck a hundred and more blows with fist and leg like a circus act, and escaped.

Behind Mun Gok, fist and foot impressions were now etched into the cliff wall.

A testament to overwhelming strength—each of her opening attacks was full-force.

But when Mun Gok’s hand struck back, she was flung like a skipping stone—crashing through air and cliff alike.

BOOOOM!!

Like that, again now.

Now bloodied like the War God, Mun Gok shook his head, watching for the Lord of Northern Clarity’s next rush.

“That Dragonwill Blade Lord's sword... it’s said to be the finest in the clan for defense and prolonged battle. They say the energy he spends in defense is absurdly minimal. It’ll be quite the nuisance.”

“They draw from the energy of the world itself, absorbed by the tree. Doesn’t seem like a natural fit,”

the War God replied, pressing his fist against the sword’s edge.

The sight of one of the Five Heavenly Swords being forced back by a bare hand— Yet the Dragonwill Blade Lord withstood it, a sword god from another era.

So thought Mun Gok. And thus, he spoke:

“Perhaps it’s for the best. The ones who truly match the ‘Union’ are Gold Wall, Archer of the Celestial Palace, and Azure Water True Person.  If that Dragonwill Blade Lord had endless divine energy to draw from, it would’ve been worse.”

This was a man who might be on par with the Southern Emperor, who once ruled over sorcery itself.

A swordmaster who had been chief among the Four Guardians of the World Tree. His divinity was expected.

‘He’s clearly mastered endurance. No openings... not a man you can take in a quick fight.’

But there was another.

In the distance, the Lord of Northern Clarity flashed like a lightning bolt—and struck Mun Gok with her palm.

BOOOOM!

She pressed one palm to his massive chest,then stood upside-down—

Her sole inverted in air, ready to leap away at a moment’s notice. From her toe spread the shimmering trace unique to Spatial Shift.

“...Tch.”

Mun Gok’s hand reached—and missed, as expected.

But then, another hand—the War God’s—gripped her ankle violently.

CRACK—

He had just flung the Dragonwill Blade Lord toward Mun Gok with a short-step advance, and now the two switched opponents as their bodies crossed paths.

Mun Gok’s twin hands slashed through the air like whips, fifteen strikes curling toward the Dragonwill Blade Lord.

Zzzeh-crack-crack-crack-crack!

Glass-like fractures spidered across the space around them.

Meanwhile, the War God drove the Lord of Northern Clarity—still held by the ankle—into the ground like a sack of grain.

Not once.

Twenty-four times in a single breath, he slammed her down like an axe.

Whether the earth cracked or her skull shattered, it made no difference.

Their timing was seamless—like clockwork gears.

The War God’s frosted breath curved into a smile, and Mun Gok, pressing down on the Dragonwill Blade Lord, thought:

That overwhelming power aside...

He has the talent to control the flow of battle.’

That’s why he was the God of War.

And not just him. The husband of the Ice Palace Lord in the north possessed the same trait. So too did Jeong Yeon-shin—Lord of the Divine Sword Corps.

Relieved by the old god’s intervention, Mun Gok glanced sideways.

At that same moment, the giant’s breath vanished into stillness.

The one who had created this entire stage—Jeong Yeon-shin—was moving along a different axis of time.

Shards of a broken sword and shattered body energy glimmered like starlight around him.

How many times had he done it?

The Master of Celestial Extremes swept his sword toward the mountain slopes where Mun Gok stood.

The green-tinged blade pointed skyward—toward the edge of the summit—where the Lord of Ipwang Fortress and the Defeated Sword Lord were dueling like heavenly deities.

The Defeated Sword Lord was losing. He was being pushed back again and again.

But the Lord of Ipwang Fortress—cloaked in clouds like flowing constellations—moved as though dancing a sword ballet.

Each impact of their swords spread endlessly through the skies.

At the same time, clear thunderbolts slammed down in every direction. The ground trembled violently with each one, and across the vast expanse of Mount Song, ominous vibrations rang out. It felt like a landslide of unparalleled scale was about to erupt.

That’s when Jeong Yeon-shin dove into the Master of Celestial Extremes’ sword strike.

If one looked closely, it was through the minuscule fracture in space created by a dimensional slash.

Step—

He reappeared instantly in the sky.

The Azure Water True Person of the Pure Azure Sect, who had been watching from below, did not miss it.

His blade, tinged with blue light, was already slashing toward the point where Jeong Yeon-shin had appeared.

[Blue Cloud.]

But Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t stop.

The Sect Leader of the Pure Azure Sect had inflated his sword aura like a cloud—and Jeong wrapped it with the light of the Brilliant Radiant Light like a rope.

He soared again.

Right between the Lord of Ipwang Fortress and the Defeated Sword Lord.

Faster than any known void-step.

A miracle atop another miracle.

The Defeated Sword Lord’s massive sword was just about to miss the Lord of Ipwang Fortress—

when:

Fwhip—

Jeong Yeon-shin flicked his deep purple sleeve like a dance, and from his firm wrist, a cluster of starlight extended like a silk-sword—hooking and pulling the great blade back.

As if he had bound time itself.

A move that altered the sword’s trajectory.

FWOOOSH—!

The great sword plunged into the abdomen of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

Using the rebound, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped onto the flat of the blade and came to a halt.

“Enough.”

He held the unspent Starlit Night in his palm, voice calm.

To the Eyes of the Scholar-Examiner, he looked like a demonic god committing a grand heresy with artistic flair.

Mun Gok stepped half a pace away from the War God’s side.