Jeong Yeon-shin landed gracefully, lowering his hand naturally. There was no need to take more than a few steps.
The hem of his blue long coat fluttered momentarily against his legs before falling still.
Myeolma Cheonggangsu... it’s truly an adversary to the masters of the demonic path.
He confirmed the effectiveness of its name. It provided an overwhelming advantage against the martial arts of the demonic sects.
Against specific opponents, it could even allow him to contend with those of superior skill.
“Whew...”
The exhalation that followed was like air escaping from the lungs of a dead man—a lifeless breath.
The master of the Sunmaren, whose head had been shattered, staggered briefly before losing balance entirely.
The remnants of his aura spiraled weakly, unable to withstand the vortex of Qi coursing through his body.
The short cape draped over his shoulders clung lifelessly to his back.
Hwoong!
The fragments of his remaining energy dispersed into a faint breeze. Slowly, his body fell backward, his eyes still wide open in shock.
Thud!
A heavy impact echoed.
On the steep descent, his body slid down a short distance before coming to a stop.
He was dead instantly.
“...!”
The group of martial artists pursuing him abruptly halted in their tracks. There were about a dozen or so.
Their legs, previously engaged in executing advanced footwork, stiffened mid-movement, swelling visibly as they struggled to halt.
Their faces froze in shock.
In the blink of an eye, they alternated between staring at the lifeless body and Jeong Yeon-shin.
Their eyes, filled with terror, darted back and forth uncontrollably.
Kwaaaak!
The group, who had stopped abruptly, maintained a distance of about ten steps.
“Jeong So-hyeop!”
A voice called out from behind him. It was Hyeon Won-chang, his tone filled with joy.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned slightly, his gaze still fixed on the enemies ahead.
The composed demeanor of a powerful figure began to emanate from him.
The golden embroidery of Iphwangseong glinted as it caught the light and returned to the enemies’ line of sight.
“What in the world...”
One of the men muttered in disbelief.
At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin and Hyeon Won-chang's eyes met.
Hyeon Won-chang's eyes widened in astonishment before his face split into a grin.
“It’s really you! Truly you! For a moment, I thought my eyes deceived me!”
Bursting into laughter, he ran over. The distance between them was short, and he quickly reached Jeong Yeon-shin’s side.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at him, feeling a quiet sense of relief. At the very least, Hyeon Won-chang was alive.
“Hyeon Sohyeop.”
“It’s so good to see you! I thought I wouldn’t make it through today!”
“I don’t see any visible wounds. Do you have any internal injuries?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked, his voice calm, suppressing his own relief.
Hyeon Won-chang’s grin widened.
“Of course not. This body is well-versed in protective techniques! My Inner Qi Shield isn’t something nameless amateurs could break. But truly, how did you manage to find this place? This is a hidden sanctuary if there ever was one. And yet, you found me. I’ve been waiting, but this exceeds all expectations.”
“Well...”
“In any case, it’s clear reinforcements were sent from the fortress, which is excellent news. And to think you were part of it! How about Namgung Segas? Did you best Cheong Kirin? You must have won to be here now. Truly remarkable! Jeong So-hyeop, you are destined to be a leading light among the post-peak generation!”
His excitement was palpable, and his face beamed with joy.
Hyeon Won-chang’s self-proclaimed “heroic scar” across his forehead was now a clean slash, revealing a broad expanse of his forehead and his curved eyebrows.
Tilting slightly to the side, he glanced behind Jeong Yeon-shin at the fallen master of Sunmaren.
“That one... no, that bastard was known as Myeongdo Jangsal, a high-ranking demonic master of Sunmaren.
His palm technique was said to kill three people in a single strike. And yet, he couldn’t withstand even a single move of your hand blade!”
As he spoke, he stepped closer, shifting slightly to the side.
Thunk.
Hyeon Won-chang placed a hand on Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder, gripping the slope of his trapezius muscle.
He kneaded it as though giving a massage, his grin brimming with admiration.
“Myeongdo Jangsal? Hardly. His crown split cleanly open.”
“...”
“A most satisfying end.”
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent, accustomed to Hyeon Won-chang’s blunt mannerisms.
He turned his body once more.
“More importantly, those people over there.”
He gestured toward the group that had been chasing Hyeon Won-chang.
The men stood frozen, unable to move even as the conversation continued.
They whispered among themselves, trying to devise a plan against an overwhelming opponent.
Hyeon Won-chang chuckled, his voice light as he spoke. Standing beside Jeong Yeon-shin, he seemed to bask in his ally’s presence.
“They’re rabble from the Hyeongchang Gate in Sichuan. Their sect leader was the one who stabbed Baek Sunbae in the back.”
“You mean Baek Mi-ryeo Sunbae?”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice lowered. Images from his clairvoyance flashed through his mind—senior martial artists struck from behind.
Among them was Baek Mi-ryeo, her fair skin standing out vividly in his memory.
Cheongmyeong’s defined abdominal muscles had also been slashed open.
It wasn’t merely foresight. The events occurring in Myeonggongdo aligned perfectly with his visions.
“How could that happen? With Baek Sunbae’s skill, she could annihilate multiple mid-tier sects alone. Was it betrayal?”
“Betrayal? Ha!”
Hyeon Won-chang scoffed. His derisive laughter wasn’t aimed at Jeong Yeon-shin but at the frozen enemies before them.
“How could we ever trust anyone outside our fortress? Look at you—you’ve already faced Namgung Segas. And these sects from the so-called neutral factions? Trusting them would be absurd.”
“Then what happened?”
“It wasn’t about trust. It was clear they were acting as servants of the Thirteen Heavens Sect from the start.
The real problem was their coordinated assault. Sunmaren and Shinjunmun attacked us simultaneously.
With both factions pushing from opposite sides, we barely had time to guard against their martial techniques.
A few of our seniors... well, they had no choice but to expose their backs.”
Though he spoke harshly, his tone grew somber as he neared the end.
“Cheongmyeong Sunbae and Baek Sunbae... they were injured saving me. All because of one useless junior in the group...”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t attempt to comfort him. He had seen firsthand Hyeon Won-chang’s courage in protecting civilians in Seoju, standing against the Blood Flame Sect without hesitation.
Though he was shaken, his integrity was unwavering.
“Why were you left to fend for yourself? Where are the other seniors?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked quietly.
“This place is divided into four regions: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. We’re currently at the Spring Region, the starting point. Ma Gwang-ik is advancing toward the Winter Region.”
“You’ve been left alone?”
“It’s been quite a while since we embarked on this mission, hasn’t it? It wouldn’t have taken long for those outside to realize Ma Gwang-ik’s trail had vanished. Someone had to stay back and guide any reinforcements that might arrive. We weren’t entirely sure help would come... but we’re from Ipwang Fortress.”
The pride in his voice was palpable, befitting someone who called himself an Ipwang Divine Hero.
“So, in the end, we waited for you. And what luck! While hiding at the entrance to the Spring Region, I ended up fleeing from those trying to exploit the blacksmiths here. But here you are.”
“Do you know why Ma Gwang-ik is heading to the far end of the Myunggongdo?”
“You know,” Hyeon Won-chang smirked, “there’s an old phrase among the Nam-guk traveling performers of Haedong. They say it when they’re cursing someone.”
“...What?”
This content is taken from freёwebnovel.com.
“They call it ‘feeding them dung.’ It means to sabotage or disrupt something. Cheongmyeong-sunbae mentioned it as he proposed a plan to our leader: since the Twin Factions of the Thirteen Heavens seem to be targeting the Winter Region, wouldn’t it be fitting for Ipwang Fortress to snatch it first?”
Cheongmyeong, known as the Azure Calm Sword, a duelist competing for the title of the greatest among the blue faction.
A vivid image of him, smiling softly while delivering cutting remarks, came to mind. Even wounded, his presence was formidable.
“The Thirteen Heavens’ Ten Gates and Pure Devil Refinement, along with other sects of the midlands, all schemed together. Their aim was the Myunggongdo and the Tang Clan Patriarch. We just happened to get tangled up in the mess while questioning the patriarch. From the cliffside above to all the way down here.”
Hyeon Won-chang gestured toward the towering ceiling above them, indicating where it all began.
“Now, retreating isn’t an option. And Ma Gwang-ik? He’s no ordinary force. With such overwhelming martial masters gathered at the target, there’s no way the Devil’s Path would simply let us go.”
“...”
“At first, they might have misjudged our presence. But once blood was spilled, there was no turning back. We didn’t just sit and take it either. Now? Well, it’s obvious they’ve decided to push forward relentlessly.”
Hyeon Won-chang’s words trailed off, illustrating how they had been pushed from the Spring Region to the Winter Region, both by choice and by circumstance.
An unending battle—that much was clear. Amid this chaos, how many more would be injured or killed?
Though his words carried a touch of humor, they revealed the grim reality of the martial world and the Devil’s Path.
“What has the fighting been like?”
“Every half-sijin or so, it quiets down, only to flare up again. I barely managed to break away. In the meantime, two of our seniors were injured.”
Hyeon Won-chang’s expression darkened once more. Jeong So-hyeop nodded slowly, his thoughts aligning.
‘Understood.’
He had grasped the situation. It was time to act.
Just then.
“You... you there.”
Jeong Yeon-shin raised his head. One of the men from Hyeongchang Gate had called out to him, seemingly attempting negotiation.
“Young master of Ipwang Fortress, there’s no need for unnecessary bloodshed. We’ll withdraw.”
The man, clad in dust-covered silk robes, continued with his plea.
“You must be someone of noble standing, bearing that golden embroidery. We only acted under the coercion of Pure Devil Refinement. Please, grant us your understanding.”
His demeanor was strange—pleading yet attempting to maintain some semblance of pride. His back remained straight as he spoke, a reflection of the insular attitude unique to the martial world of Sichuan.
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze swept over them.
None dared meet his eyes, instead turning their heads slightly to the side. These were men accustomed to the laws of survival in the martial world—strength ruling over all.
‘They’re from the so-called "neutral factions."’
The neutral sects of the midlands existed in great numbers, their alliances shifting based on what benefitted their sects most. Cheongmyeong had once described them as half-hearted demonic practitioners who still sought the approval of the orthodox factions.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth to speak.
“This time, you picked the wrong side. You crossed the line.”
“Shall I kill them all?” came Tae Yeom-ryong’s voice from behind him.
Without turning, Jeong Yeon-shin could sense the presence of the elite masters from the Hwanik Corps lined up behind him. They had been standing ready since he first began speaking with Hyeon Won-chang.
The Hyeongchang Gate warriors, lost for what to do, had finally chosen to step forward because they felt the silent threat at their backs.
Hyeon Won-chang, too, glanced nervously behind Jeong Yeon-shin during their earlier exchange. His face paled as his eyes landed on Tae Yeom-ryong.
“The young master of Hwangbo Clan...?!”
“You know me,” Tae Yeom-ryong replied casually. “But I don’t recall your name. Your face, though—faintly familiar.”
“What... What is going on here?”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly, ignoring the unfolding panic.
“Hyeon So-hyeop.”
“Yes, Jeong So-hyeop. But... these men...”
“How severe are Ma Gwang-ik sunbae’s injuries? Who’s the worst off?”
“...Sunbae Oh lost her left arm.”
At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin felt a sharp pain in his lower lip, which he had unconsciously bitten.
The name Oh Wol-hyang immediately came to mind—a senior in the blue faction who had treated him like her own son.
“Hwanik Corps.”
The boy whispered as if reciting a prayer.
Ssssssshh—
Hyeon Won-chang suddenly had the illusion that Jeong Yeon-shin’s blue robe was turning blood-red. The hallucination made him think of the blood-dyed robes worn by the High Priests of the Blood Flame Cult.
‘His internal cultivation must be advancing to the next level...!’
He marveled, his astonishment clear.
From Jeong Yeon-shin’s body emanated faint yet sinister energy—the residual traces of Myeolma Cheonggangsu blended with the eerie fluctuations of Mara Gwanghyeolgong. Wisps of colorless energy spiraled upward like heatwaves, deliberately summoned to project an aura of overwhelming dominance.
He had no choice. The Myunggongdo was a sealed city. Leaving enemies behind while advancing deeper? Such a decision would be foolish no matter their numbers.
As the leader of Ipwang Fortress, he had to make the call.
Slowly, Jeong Yeon-shin parted his lips, now stained a deeper red.
“Kill them. All of them.”
Step.
Having issued his command, the boy began walking down the path, heading toward the village of the Spring Region within the Myunggongdo. The faint underground lights illuminated his figure as he strode forward, uninterrupted.
Slash! Shhhk!
“Urgh!”
“You bastards, you...!”
The air grew blisteringly hot. Tae Yeom-ryong leaped forward, crushing skulls with his bare fists. Waves of distorted air rippled outward as Namgung Hwa-shin’s colorless sword energy soared, unleashing the full might of the Boundless Swordsmanship of the Sky.
Blades from the masters of the Hwanik Corps sliced through their foes, their sharp gusts filling the air. As the carnage unfolded, Tang Leryeo, Tang Yuhwa, and other martial artists from the Tang Clan, along with elite warriors from the Beggars’ Sect, silently watched Jeong Yeon-shin’s back.
The path ahead cleared. The boy’s footsteps echoed distinctly, cutting through the silence.
“Hwanik Corps... Seomye.”
Hugae muttered under his breath.
Far in the distance, atop a jagged stone wall:
“Aah...”
The sound was nearly a sigh, an exquisite resonance.
Seated atop a protruding rock, a woman with jet-black hair cascading over her shoulders gazed down. Her crimson eyes shimmered, drinking in the sight of her little master.
The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult lay reclined, her face enraptured.
“You’ve changed again... my Taesa.”
Her ruby-red lips moved faintly.
And there she remained, unmoving for a long time, her gaze fixed on the boy. She reveled in the sight of his pristine form, his noble aura of blood energy, and the tranquil yet commanding steps of someone who had just ordered a massacre.