Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t stop Manhwi. He had a sense about it. It was no longer feasible to use the Sword Crime Prisoner as a pretext for future plans. A single sword, dry land, a failed act of revenge. Just as the blind man had said himself, it was the familiar silhouette of a wandering martial artist.

‘He overused Dislocated Form so much. He might not make it past this year...’

Maybe it was a grudging sort of affection. Jeong Yeon-shin hoped that the Dongmong Sword wouldn’t break before winter, true to its name. That the man with no one to see him off would at least lie down on a white, snow-like land.

“You’re letting him go?”

A girl’s voice drifted over, bringing with it a strong scent of blood. A quick glance to the side revealed Shin So-bin, her shoulder now just an empty joint wrapped tightly in bandages. At that same moment, a drop of blood fell at the feet of the two disciples.

Jeong Yeon-shin asked instinctively,

“Does it hurt?”

“Enough already.”

The one-armed girl muttered with lazy annoyance. He fell silent and thought to himself. Not even a disciple.

Then he spoke again.

“Senior Un and Senior Wi Ji will escort Master Shin back to the main fortress. Don’t neglect the energy circulation I taught you. Keep the wound from rotting, and don’t let it close too early either.”

“They’ll really bring him back?”

“Unless someone with your level of cultivation in Jeong Family’s Internal Work handles it, maintaining the optimal medical state would be difficult. Out of the rest of the Black Rank, only someone like Senior Yeochun Lord or the Poppy Witch—or possibly Senior Cheongmyeong—might be able to help. You’re lucky your training was deep.”

Shin So-bin stared quietly at him. Then her lips twitched slightly, forming a tiny dimple that sat somewhere between a grimace and a smile. A vague expression.

“...Internal Work achievement doesn’t usually show on the surface, right? Everyone's training period was short.”

“Looks like someone had their diary stolen.”

Jeong Yeon-shin smiled faintly as he replied. Mastery of Jeong Family’s Internal Work usually meant one of three things: extraordinary talent, a degree of immersion that could be called unity with the training formula, or both.

Shin So-bin was the third kind. That’s why she had been the top disciple. It made sense for Jeong Yeon-shin to tease her, as if he’d read her diary—because it meant she had studied her peer of a teacher that deeply.

“......”

But Shin So-bin just kept staring at the one who had taught her Jeong Family’s Internal Work. The Grand Master of Diaries composed himself.

“Let’s go.”

Whoosh.

With a single step, he was already standing before Shaolin’s mountain gate. The steep slope showed traces of Manhwi’s descent. Since most who had already gone down left two sets of footprints, the deeply embedded single tracks stood out.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly thought—the footsteps of commoners were wider and more even. At that moment, the girl’s playfully teasing voice floated down with the light.

“Are you embarrassed?”

Shin So-bin traced soft rings of light in midair and followed closely at his side. Perfect mastery of Ten-Ri Light Movement. All of it, every detail about her, was something Jeong Yeon-shin used for evaluation.

‘What role suits her best?’

The positions of Commander of the So-yeon Corps and Chief of the Myungryu Division were both vacant. There were many who would need to be formally promoted to Black Rank as soon as they returned to the main fortress—Shin So-bin, Hyeon Won-chang, and the still-absent Tae Yeom-ryong.

They’d earned it. They had followed him into the perilous, violet-colored martial world for a long time. Back when Jeong Yeon-shin held the Blue Rank, he had failed to bring down a Six Star General himself, and there was never any chance of forming a marriage alliance with Ice Palace Lord, much less with thoughts as venomous as poppy resin.

“Shall we depart?”

Waiting nearby, Chief Commander Im Jin-myeong handed over Wollyo’s severed head as he asked. He added that it had been immensely useful.

“Hm, hm-hmm... completely lost his voice. Don’t wake him along the way.”

A one-sided notice from the soldier who had slain more enemies in Daesun Jeongmaeng’s army than anyone else.

Shin So-bin tilted her head.

“But you don’t have a throat. How does your voice get hoarse?”

“Tones aren’t drawn from the throat—they resonate in the head. What we call ‘head voice’ begins with resonance in the upper dantian...”

Meanwhile, Im Jin-myeong continued his report to Jeong Yeon-shin.

“There were quite a few who escaped. From the start, our formation was a defensive measure to prevent them from interrupting your breathing and energy cycle.”

“You defeated a force of that size. It’s a great contribution. Speak freely.”

“There are four wives of Daesun Jeongmaeng’s leader, Lee Teum-je, collectively known as the ‘Four Immortals.’ They are Black Rank by main fortress standards. Each seems to have a specialized role—assassination, negotiation, business, and the like. Two of them were present on Songshan.”

“I saw them briefly within Shaolin’s grounds.”

“They were very cautious. Blended into the masses and retreated. They may pose trouble to future operations of the Divine Sword Corps’ Seventeenth Unit... but such figures are no longer your concern.”

Implying that the Divine Sword Corps could handle them without Jeong Yeon-shin’s direct involvement. It sounded significant, but Jeong Yeon-shin asked calmly,

“Anyone else?”

“Radiant Lord Gongsun Wol. Former head of the Gongsun family.”

“Ah.”

“She only watched us from above during the entire battle, then left. If she’d stepped in, I would’ve been the first to die. Strange that such a famed elder swordswoman had no sword—but she didn’t even bother grabbing one from the dead...”

Im Jin-myeong’s words trailed off. Because Jeong Yeon-shin had pulled the Memory Ocean Sword from his travel sack and handed it over—with a note that Gongsun Wol had surrendered it upon seeing the trial.

“She’s a swordsman, then.”

Im Jin-myeong gave a curt assessment. He fell in step on Jeong Yeon-shin’s right as the man began to walk slowly.

A large shadow stretched naturally to the left. The strategist of the Divine Sword Corps had moved in silently.

“Lastly, Celestial Dance Empress Jegal Cheong... the old woman who wielded her martial gate like a weapon is now imprisoned in Shaolin’s True Demon Cavern. That means a quarter of Daesun Jeongmaeng’s strength is gone.”

“Mun Gok.”

“According to Yeo Ryeong, there were originally four former Eight Sect Lords under Lee Teum-je. Now they’ve dwindled to three or fewer. One of their four martial corps has been completely destroyed.”

A detailed report followed—because aside from the Cheonhamok faction, only one great enemy remained.

Four wives.

Four former Eight Sect Lords.

Four military divisions.

Even Mu-ryong Association and Simmuryun were said to have joined forces with them. If they had a few more orthodox sects on their side, then yes—this was the martial world. A river and lake of martial arts where heroes fended off storms with blades, only to find new tempests on the horizon.

Jeong Yeon-shin said quietly,

“It’s all too messy. Let’s return.”

As if waiting for those words, Black-and-white-robed masters of the Divine Sword Corps began to gather silently, moving like ghosts with half-transparent steps.

Hwaaak!

In an instant, they lined up behind Jeong Yeon-shin. From nearby walls and all across Songshan, the fortress masters who had been standing guard emerged.

Like ripples left by his earlier illusions of Dislocated Form.

Not a single casualty in this battle—at worst, only injuries. With the Radiant Black Sword Sutra and Southern Flower Grand Tai Chi on their side, it was inevitable.

Duuung... duuung...!

The noonday bell rang out. Jeong Yeon-shin sensed it through martial perception.

It was Wonmu, one of the Four Diamond Guardians of the Yozoku, ringing Shaolin’s great bell with force.

It felt like a farewell from Bodhidharma himself. As if the strongest monk in history was giving him a push on the back.

That moment from Shaolin’s Abbot’s chamber returned to him, when Hye Gwang had struck his mind like a lightning bolt.

―When you return, cradle your child in a sling and walk the incense path like a devotee.

As he descended the mountain, Jeong Yeon-shin simply smiled faintly.

Thud.

Meanwhile, the trail of one-legged footprints was soon covered by countless others, until it was no longer possible to tell what had once been there.

Just another ordinary martial world.

***

The main road was full of footprints. Footsteps from all kinds of people. A flood of traffic poured in through the half-broken city gate.

The main fortress of Ipwang in Yangyang was as busy as ever.

The damaged front gate—destroyed by the old King of Spears, Ak Bi-gang—was guarded by the few remaining Blue Rank warriors of the main fortress.

“This way for the merchant caravan! Don’t push, please!”

“Sorry, the granary’s already empty. I can offer some wild greens, maybe Five-Spice Mountain Veggie Stew...”

Crowds stepped across the newly built moat. White Rank warriors, scattered by the Tyrant Hero Rebellion, returned under escort of various servants and retainers.

Some blacksmiths of the Iron Clan from Myeonggong Island hurried in. Among the influx, some commoners seemed like they had just come to beg for temple rations.

This wasn’t a scene from a peaceful era.

“......”

Official documenter Gi Dae-seung leaned against the castle wall, watching them all in silence—until an old man with one arm suddenly approached him.

“You’re the first official who encountered the White Blade Wild Obliterator, is that right?”

“That nickname is forbidden.”

“Then let’s call him Sword Heaven. What was your impression?”

The old man smiled with ease. His clothes were made from rare blackwood, and even his skin glistened with refined polish.

This was the former Lord of Gaebong, who had once joined forces with King of Spears Ak Bi-gang to ambush Jeong Yeon-shin in the Jinryeong Mountains—only to end up a prisoner of Ipwang Fortress.

‘So he just entered the main fortress...’

Gi Dae-seung thought. He recalled the youthful face and the surprisingly composed voice.

―When is my official assignment decided?

He began to speak slowly. He simply wanted to ease the dread of a long and uncertain road ahead.

“You seemed to not know much, and had a great deal of curiosity. Also quite skilled at concealing your thoughts.”

“That explains why that bastard Heocho was so vicious. He held back his full-force strike until just the right moment... It was such a brief encounter, yet you read him that well?”

“Most of those affiliated with the Main Fortress are like that. They already saw Lord Jeong as the future of the fortress back then. Even the young ones who now lie dead, forever bound to the White Rank.”

“Ah, so that’s why the name Seomye came about so early. I see. Still, I didn’t expect you to be so forthcoming. What if this old man figures out the Sword Heaven’s weakness and simply leaves? There must be more outside recruits like me, no?”

The Lord of Gaebong kept his merchant’s smile as he asked. Gi Dae-seung remained expressionless.

“What else? Then you’ll die miserably soon after.”

“...Hmm?”

“All Divine Sword Corps warriors trained in Jeong Family Internal Work and the Radiant Formula are capable of becoming assassins. They’re killing ghosts who’ve even conquered the North. Think you can handle that?”

“......”

The smile finally disappeared from the wrinkled lips of the Lord of Gaebong. Among the commoners below the fortress wall, a woman lifted her head.

In her right eye socket, she wore a round lens. The sunlight bounced off it in a cold glint. A monocle designed to enhance martial perception and visual acuity.

“So, it’s Lady Go.”

The Lord of Gaebong’s expression shifted oddly.

“One of the Four Immortals of Daesun... One of Lee Teum-je’s wives. She’s been accumulating wealth for ages, even tried to build ties with me. Didn’t know it was for rebellion.”

He added with a smirk. Her business sense wasn’t bad.

“Daesun Four Immortals...”

Gi Dae-seung murmured. At the same time, the Lord of Gaebong muttered to himself.

“It’s happening again.”

“...What is?”

“Ipwang Fortress. It’s empty again, isn’t it? That last rebellion—the Tyrant Hero and the Seven Divine Generals—took place under similar circumstances... That’s the thing about righteousness, it's hard to hold on to. Better to just go around flexing strength like the martial nobles do.”

“Empty, you say?”

Gi Dae-seung shook his head.

“That’s no longer the case.”

“Really now? I’d say you’ve got little available force in the city... On top of that, the Yullyeong Master is still recovering, and the Heavenly Dragon Lord is stuck holding down another front, isn’t he?”

“That’s not the end of it. The fortress won’t be caught off guard again.”

In a flash—

Whoosh—

The world turned to ash-gray. The bright daylight vanished. It felt as though the sun had been snuffed out like a candle, replaced by the overwhelming wave of someone’s internal energy.

“...!”

Gi Dae-seung instantly understood. A massive energy wave had blanketed the sky. Like the canopy of a royal procession casting shade over the sun.

Jeobeok.

Someone was walking down the market road. Hair as white as snow spilled down to his waist, ears unnaturally sharp, his body thin to the point of desolation. His entire presence seemed faded.

The pressure was crushing. Nothing else came to mind but “Faded Warlord.”

He spoke.

“No need to be tense. I didn’t come to fight.”

Gi Dae-seung suddenly recalled the Annals of the Great Ming Dynasty that he had memorized as a child. A chronicle of Ming's founding and its chaotic early martial history.

First entry, first line...

—A massive ghost chased after the people, but the gate was shut in time, and it was annihilated.

He spun around without thinking. He didn’t even have the presence of mind to initiate a hidden transmission. He just shouted.

“All Blue Rank warriors, evacuate the civilians! From now on, only enemies will enter the Main Fortress! Let the enemies in!”

Ipwang Fortress was filled with advanced martial formations left by previous masters, including the annihilated Shin Cheon-hwa. The more internal masters were present, the more powerful the traps became.

For an uninvited guest of that size, they had to be let in—so no damage would befall the commoners.

Then the Lord of Gaebong nodded with his chin.

“There’s more.”

Over the shoulder of the Faded Warlord, new figures appeared.

The one-armed giant was unmistakably the Lord of Simmuryun. Trailing further behind was his successor—Fiery Sovereign of Crimson, Gun Yu-rin.

And not just them.

‘Even the Peerless One...?’

The Radiant Blade Sovereign, Geum Min, of Simmuryun. Her hair, tied in a graceful braid, and the massive saber on her back exuded pressure. She was known as both the Most Beautiful and Most Lethal Blade in Henan.

There was another. A lion-like swordswoman. Short, ash-gray hair, a severely expressionless face. Her appearance perfectly matched the known description of Sword Lord Baek Seo-goon.

“Let me ask again.”

The Lord of Gaebong’s face turned grave.

“Is this really not an empty house? Those people may be guests for now, but in times like these, uninvited guests become looters more often than not.”

“...My answer hasn’t changed.”

Gi Dae-seung said as he walked down the inner stairs with the Lord of Gaebong. When he looked back toward the front gate, he realized—an old man, formerly head of the Eon Clan, had blended in among the crowd.

“I am, admittedly, an uninvited guest... but I’ll try to conduct myself with courtesy. Where’s the guest hall?”

The old martial artist with bared arms spoke.

And it wasn’t over. A middle-aged man nudged Gi Dae-seung in the ribs with his elbow. Also sleeveless, he wore a martial outfit that revealed muscles chiseled like a statue.

“I’ve got no other business. Just tell me where the Lost Sword went, and I’ll be on my way.”

The Lord of the Mu-ryong Association, the Trade Monster Jon Muyeok-gae—Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol.

The very air of Ipwang Fortress seemed to freeze. There was a limit to escalation, and they had just crossed it.

“...This way.”

In a time that felt frozen solid, Gi Dae-seung finally forced his mouth to move.

“I’ll lead you to the guest hall.”

***

Top floor of the Central Command Branch. The uninvited guests were seated around a massive round table. The air had frozen once, and it showed no signs of thawing.

The only ones at ease were the intruders themselves.

The Radiant Blade Sovereign Geum Min spoke.

“...The Faded Warlord said he wanted to look around Ipwang Fortress, but if one matter is resolved, he’s willing to leave immediately.”

“Speak, then.”

Gi Dae-seung replied flatly. He had already ordered all spiritual and martial formations in the fortress to be activated.

Geum Min’s lips moved.

“Shin-ui.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Is that so? At least for my part, I have no desire to provoke a clash with the White Blade Wild Obliterator.”

Her voice remained quiet.

“Bring out the one in charge. Someone who holds both power and authority, who can represent Ipwang Fortress. You won’t do.”

“Aren’t you speaking to him already?”

Gi Dae-seung countered.

Geum Min’s long lashes brushed away the dust in the hall. Her gaze fell on a black-robed noble youth seated silently nearby—Suncheon Ik-ju, appearing dead to the world.

“...I’m not in the mood for jokes. Don’t make me abandon the exception clause and embrace the rule of might.”

Then she addressed the room.

“Rise. If we’ve already marched here, securing Shin-ui must be our top priority.”

Everyone except the Faded Warlord and Baek Seo-goon stood. That alone made the atmosphere outside the command post ripple like summer heat.

Gun Yu-rin, Fiery Sovereign of Crimson and heir to Simmuryun, brushed her fingers along Geum Min’s waist and muttered,

“Master, I heard there’s an Emperor here.”

“If that rumor’s true, we’ll take him along with Shin-ui.”

Jeobeok.

They stepped forward. Claiming Ipwang Fortress like it was their own. They showed no ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) regard for sect reputation—because rebellion had already flared across the realm.

Even in Luoyang, the commoners had resorted to cannibalism in madness.

But as they tried to leave the hall, they stopped.

Not just Geum Min and Gun Yu-rin, but also the former Eon Clan head and the Mu-ryong Association Lord.

“......”

Even in the direction they turned, Namgung Hwa-shin lay sleeping.

His breathing was steady, smooth as silk. His eyes remained closed.

But at some point, his sword had already been drawn.

Some in the room began to pale in confusion.