A single blade, not even fully drawn, dangled loosely from the back of Light Blade Sovereign Geum Min. Bright red blood splattered across the marble. Drip—drop. It wasn’t just once.

With a sudden, choking sound, it gushed upward and scattered far away. That was because Geum Min’s unique technique, Layered Fading Qi, had surged out of control within her meridians.

Her eyes lost their focus. She didn’t even leave a final word.

The spear technique that had pierced through her abdomen also incinerated her innate qi in a single instant. It was the essence of the Ak Family Spear—every form was a finishing blow in itself, a battlefield art designed to confirm the kill.

The silence didn’t last.

“Master!”

Gun Yu-rin, the Spear Princess of Simmuryun, let out a roar like a lion's cry, and on Hyeokryeon Pungwol’s face—the Lord of Mu Ryong Association—a great thrill flickered.

“There may be debate over the greatest sword or fist technique in the world,”

he began slowly,

“but as for the greatest spear technique of this era, it’s not the Yang Family Spear—it’s the Ak Family Spear. And I suspect it will remain so for quite some time.”

There wasn’t even any particular light in his eyes. But those eyes pierced through the intruder in a flash.

Eye of the Great Sun Dragging the Void. One of the five most renowned eye techniques in the world. Born from the collective innovation of Mu Ryong’s excommunicated eccentrics—an assembly as eccentric as the Hall of Scholars.

Within those eyes, a tall woman appeared.

Ak Mongbi, the Ak Family's Dream Flight. Bare feet planted on the battlefield. Her pupils were clear, but her gaze sharp as a spear’s edge—she hadn’t blinked once since she’d stepped into the central dueling ground.

Due to unprecedented internal power, her lips were flushed crimson—like a noble of the Bloodflame Cult.

She gave no hint of movement, appearing silent and restrained.

Hyeokryeon Pungwol laughed.

“On a clear day, I should send someone to challenge you to a friendly duel.”

No response. She didn’t even glance at him. She merely withdrew the bare foot that had pierced Geum Min’s abdomen.

That movement—it was like sliding a long blade back into its rack. Smooth. Precise.

She rose to stand without the slightest disruption.

Rustle.

Geum Min’s body crumpled.

A young woman dashed in, catching the body with speed. She turned toward the killer with an expression like she would tear them limb from limb.

She had completely lost herself.

Gun Yu-rin, the Spear Princess of Simmuryun. She had once recruited the Faded King and wielded dazzling schemes. She had even diminished the authority of her father, Lord Gun Wi-hu.

When she sat in her grand robes and looked down at opponents, even martial nobles who had ruled the local Jianghu for a hundred years would lose focus under her gaze.

“You... You—!”

Even so, the killing aura radiating from Gun Yu-rin felt no stronger than the fleeting flutter of a mayfly’s wings. At least in the presence of Ak Mongbi.

Then suddenly, Baek Seo-goon, the Youngcheon Sword Demon, flicked his finger.

Snap—

Gun Yu-rin froze like stone. He had struck her blood point, forcing her to calm herself. There was no need to rebuke her to “know her place”—being subdued in a single move had already said enough about her condition.

The heiress of Simmuryun had lost her composure.

But all eyes remained fixed on Mongbi, like blades drawn. Silence spread like mist as each master activated their inner sight and secret techniques to observe her.

She was tall, with long, sturdy limbs—her body built for wide stances and spearwork. She was sleek—almost beautiful in a sharp, brutal way.

A perfect body for a spear-wielder.

And she looked at no one. She simply curled and uncurled her long fingers, over and over. As if her own body felt foreign to her.

Even that was eerily beautiful.

Then the Faded King finally spoke.

“Exquisite.”

It was the first time emotion colored his voice.

The shade beneath the cedar trees wavered between light and dark—his qi rippling across the vast sky like a tide. It was like day and night were trading places.

His joy was enormous.

Like he was putting on a face-changing performance with the sun as his mask. Even his archaic speech followed suit:

“By mere existence, she is fit to be Empress. If she were to marry me, she would become a Grand Duchess. And if she desired it... a sovereign in her own right.”

“...Are you serious?”

Baek Seo-goon asked.

The Faded King gave a faint nod.

“Send a palanquin to this fortress soon. Ask with utmost respect— and ask her too, whether she’s willing to end this era of chaos.”

“Ipwang Fortress sees you as the root of that chaos.”

“As it is with all things. To resolve people’s conflicts is to gather arrows that have flown in different directions and place them into one quiver.”

His words flowed gently. As he watched Mongbi, who had appeared before Lord of Simmuryun like a work of art.

“That’s why sovereigns have so often resorted to grand rites of marriage. Better to raise vast barricades than fumble around with petty quivers.”

His tone carried the cadence of old songs. A noble family was always accompanied by its own style of elegance.

“...You truly mean it.”

A smirk played at one corner of Baek Seo-goon’s mouth. No martial artist could truly hide a scoff.

Compared to the freedom of severing all ties with a single blade, how tedious such politics seemed.

The Faded King didn’t mind.

“No matter how sharp a man’s sword, it cannot pierce through fate. I’m sure you’ve felt it yourself. Simmuryun’s retreat order was but an arrowhead. Your memories with Jeong Ban-ak... they were the fence.  Which proved stronger?”

“......”

“Those who truly transcend Jianghu don’t use the sword. They use their heart to force surrender. Because that... is stronger.”

His words trailed off like a quiet hum.

As Baek Seo-goon’s mocking smile faded, a massive shockwave erupted where Mongbi and the Simmuryun Lord now stood face to face.

KRRAAAAAANG!

Their palm forces had collided. One figure was violently hurled backward, carving a trench in the dueling platform. The other stood upright, like a banner planted in the ground.

The one who was pushed back was the larger of the two.

Not unusual in martial arts.

But if the one driven back was the Lord of Simmuryun himself, famed for achieving the state of Great Awakening? Then the meaning changed.

On the face of this middle-aged grandmaster—who had even fought the likes of Liu Yuan Star Lord Mun Gok and held his ground—an expression of disbelief spread.

Even now, opening his mouth for the first time since entering the arena—

“...That wasn’t demonic martial arts.”

White smoke billowed from his sole remaining arm. His internal defense had failed to absorb the backlash from the clash. Mongbi’s palm force had invaded his protective qi and entered his body.

That could only mean one thing:

Her single technique was superior to his forms.

Not only was the gap in their cultivated energy enormous—even the mastery and release of inner power were on entirely different levels.

The entire crowd understood this instantly.

Hyeokryeon Pungwol quietly stepped back half a pace.

“She doesn’t seem like someone trained in any flashy advanced arts. Just someone who’s polished the basics for a lifetime.”

He chuckled lightly and gave a theatrical shiver, then tilted his head in thought.

“Then is there even anything to weave into Ultimate Martial Way? Or... was it merely a metamorphosis? A rebirth into adulthood paired with a body renewal that even reverses aging—twice, at that. Frankly, even that alone is almost unheard of in the history of Murim...”

It was a careful prod. Though it sounded like a simple, curious question, for anyone who might someday oppose her, it was a matter of grave importance. The secrets of a top-level martial artist’s ultimate technique—especially before a sect war—were always a top priority to uncover.

But the question was quickly drowned out by a resounding mental command.

[Ipwang Spear, do not act rashly.]

It was Lord of Simmuryun, Gun Wi-hu.

Whether he intended it or not, he now stood at the dead center of the vast dueling ground. As his upper dantian began to flood with divine energy, flickering bursts of semi-transparent qi sparked like embers from his deep-set eyes.

[In this world, power is the only fence that still matters. Are you truly someone who can act as the master of this house?]

Step.

Baek Seo-goon seized Gun Yu-rin by the nape and, with a single stride, retreated all the way to the edge of the arena.

The Faded King, meanwhile, merely watched him silently from where he sat, surrounding himself with a neutral-toned barrier of inner energy. Then, he turned to Hyeokryeon Pungwol and said:

“This is a duel of honor among masters. It hardly qualifies as war, so you should refrain from interfering.”

“But Simmuryun’s Lord has long been treated like a war weapon in the northern front. Surely you didn’t assume there would be no real combat here in Ipwang Fortress?”

At the same time, Hyeokryeon Pungwol signaled to Baek Seo-goon with a look: You go in, at least.

But the Sword Demon, hair silver-gray like a lion’s mane, didn’t move. He remained silent, suppressing even his presence as if he were never here at all.

Hyeokryeon Pungwol barked a laugh.

“Hah! What a damn mess.”

It was precisely this chaos that had prevented the Thirteen Heavens from ever mounting a unified assault on Ipwang Fortress. A gathering of lunatics who could never work together.

Even within the same sect, they could barely function.

“Arrows and fences, he says...”

Clicking his tongue, Hyeokryeon Pungwol turned briefly to the Faded King.

“I understand that as an old beast you’re obsessively attached to tradition, but at the very least, you should understand what matters—”

“I despise pathetic coalition warfare.”

The reply came calm, but steeped in disdain. It was enough to make even the Lord of Mu Ryong step back in silence toward the far end of the dueling ground.

And so, it came down to two: Mongbi and the uninvited guest.

No one truly knew what the Simmuryun Lord’s Ultimate Martial Way looked like. Not even when he clashed with the northern Yozoku, nor when he lost an arm to some unknown monster and retreated from the world.

It remained a mystery.

Whether he had evolved it during his seclusion was likewise unknown. The mere fact that Baek Seo-goon had stepped back hinted at the danger. It was likely a wide-range supreme killing technique—a Form rather than a mere strike.

Gun Wi-hu now stared quietly at Mongbi.

“You seem sluggish. Are you struggling to channel this overwhelming energy? Or perhaps... you simply cannot accept that this fortress is no longer yours.”

These were words of provocation, often uttered to the Northern Kings in the war at the Great Wall.

Still, no answer. Her black hair whipped like spring wind in the sunlight—her posture far too composed to be ordinary, just as Gun Wi-hu had said.

Then the Faded King spoke to them both.

“That’s enough. I’m no longer interested in making oaths. The one she serves—Jeong Yeon-shin of the Jeong Family—I intend to see him. Let this duel end, and maintain conduct befitting an ally of Ipwang Fortress.”

And that was when everything changed.

***

“Make sure the fabric doesn’t crease. If it wrinkles even slightly, we’ll have to redo the ritual.”

A middle-aged woman approached the central arena. She wore an elegant palace robe dyed in soft orange. For a moment, her presence made the area feel like the Forbidden City itself.

A small retinue followed behind her, carrying what appeared to be enough silk to create a massive canopy. Behind them came a line of servants bearing poles and chairs.

The woman personally oversaw their every move.

“The Grand Minister’s seat must face true north. The coronation of the Ipwang Fortress Lord is not like a mere enthronement of a regional monarch. The chairs on the east and west sides must be placed eight spans apart, flanking the Grand Minister. The seats for the seventeen Lords of the Divine Sword Corps should face the Grand Minister directly... Yes, just like that. ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) There will surely be some absentees, so inform the Office of Oversight to leave at least ten empty sword scabbards on the chairs—”

“And who are you, to behave so absurdly?”

The Faded King asked, smiling.

The woman turned toward him, as if waiting for the moment. One empty sleeve fluttered behind her as she gestured.

She spoke.

“I am Ju Yeon-jeong of the Ju Clan. Currently of the Ma Household.”

“Ju Yeon-jeong. Ah, a noble bloodline indeed. That explains your foolishness.”

“What foolishness? You insult a family preparing for a ritual within their own home? To call our preparations absurd, to accuse me of idiocy—what nonsense! You’re a pest of a guest, interfering with another’s household, acting like some aged cur who hasn’t learned propriety in centuries. Truly, how pitiful.”

Her words poured out like the demonic martial art of Ma Yeon-jeok that once shattered her own dantian. Even the seasoned warriors of the Ma Clan looked dazed, glancing nervously at the surrounding absolute masters.

Then a voice—calm but resonant—crashed into their ears via long-range transmission.

—The items you hold are the keystones of the Gu Palace Sunset Formation. At least half of these uninvited guests must die. No further compromise will be accepted.

The message came from Gi Dae-seung of the Office of Oversight.

It meant more had to die—not just Madam Go and Light Blade Sovereign Geum Min, but one or more among: the Sword Demon, the Spear Princess, the Mu Ryong Lord, the Faded King, and the Simmuryun Lord.

It was, of course, outrageous. Even Gun Yu-rin, the most approachable of them, stood now within arm’s reach of the very enemies targeted.

They had come here willingly, after all.

“Our trials never end...”

whispered Ma Se-in, the Ipwang Gentleman, under his breath.

And then—

In that very instant, the Ma Clan members saw Mongbi.

Had they been so distracted by Ju Yeon-jeong’s worldly tirade? Now Mongbi and Gun Wi-hu’s bodies shimmered and blurred. By the time they perceived it, countless exchanges had already passed.

Still standing, but impossibly fast.

Faster than shockwaves. Faster than sound. Even the Ma Clan’s vision, trained in Unified Martial Power and Jeong Family’s Art of Movement, couldn’t keep up.

The moment they realized a fight was happening, it felt like flipping through pages of a picture book.

Gun Wi-hu bent his waist in a Bow-and-Rebound posture, seemingly trying to pull away from close-range combat—

And Mongbi’s strands of black hair fell through the sunlight, descending like dusk’s final rays.

From between those black strands, a single thread of sunlight turned into a spear—reversed in her grip—and came crashing down.

It shattered time and space.

It pierced the arched chest of her opponent—drove through his entire body—and slammed into the floor of the dueling arena with explosive force.

Three shockwaves erupted, layering translucent ripples through the air.

The Ma Clan warriors could sense even the speed of sound—and Mongbi’s spear had broken the sound barrier three times in the span of a single breath.

And yet, even they could see the moment Gun Wi-hu was skewered standing upright. They heard the crushing sound of impact with their very eyes.

He died instantly.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

Only then did the storm begin to howl. The last image of the Lord of Simmuryun was as though he had been impaled on a fence post—or hoisted halfway up a banner pole.