The enormous stone gate split open with a deep rumble. Amidst the unfolding scene, Duokun Tang Un-hwang stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak.
"You, with the surname Jeong and the courtesy name Seomye. Is that correct?"
"Yes, Master Tang," Jeong Yeon-shin replied, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his tone steady and calm.
Even with Tang Un-hwang by his side, he couldn't afford to divert his attention. His life now rested on this moment. His thoughts lingered on Ma Gwang-ik's safety.
Tang Un-hwang, however, appeared unconcerned, observing Jeong Yeon-shin with a quiet intensity before speaking again.
"Your demeanor and bearing are refined. You don’t seem like an ordinary wanderer. Have you ever heard of the Taoist Hwancho?"
"The one who authored Caigentan, correct?"
Jeong Yeon-shin responded softly.
The Jeong family in Hanyang was unmatched in Xinye County. They feared being labeled as vulgar nouveaux riches and thus placed great importance on cultivating education and refinement among their members, even for those cast aside. Works like the Caigentan, along with the Great Ming Canon and the Four Books and Five Classics, were familiar to him.
Tang Un-hwang’s lush beard parted as a faint smile spread across his lips.
"You possess insight. Caigentan weaves together Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism seamlessly. It holds much wisdom on navigating life and is worth savoring."
"..."
"Day and night may swap their clamor, yet their essence remains constant, as the unchanging order of nature dictates. Such are the virtues of a gentleman."
It was a passage Jeong Yeon-shin knew well, one he had memorized entirely.
Yet, hearing it now felt different. Perhaps it was the difference in the years they had lived.
As the massive stone gate continued to creak open, driven by its intricate mechanisms, Tang Un-hwang continued his advice.
"Haste in martial arts leaves no room for success. In times of leisure, maintain readiness through movement in stillness. In urgency, find calm within action. This principle applies to both swords and hidden weapons."
It was the guidance of a supreme martial artist. His voice carried a weight that hinted at mastery. Jeong Yeon-shin instinctively realized this was yet another rare opportunity—a serendipitous moment of insight.
Hwangbo So Ga-ju cut in abruptly.
"You seem well-versed in twisting words, Master Tang. But aren't you simply saying impatience leads to failure? Isn’t that the most basic principle?"
"I’ve heard the young master of the Hwangbo Clan is rather unconventional. The rumors appear true. And yes, you are correct. But Seomye here seems to need a reminder to keep his heart composed."
"Our temporary leader might be young, but he’s old at heart. He’ll manage just fine."
Even such overt praise from Hwangbo So Ga-ju carried an odd tone, making it hard to discern whether he was sincere or mocking. Tang Un-hwang chuckled deeply.
"These words are as much for myself as for you. I’ve muttered them countless times. To fully avenge my wife’s death, I must first survive. To pursue revenge and live to see it through requires such reminders."
His voice resembled the wind rustling through dry leaves—brittle, yet laden with echoes of sorrow.
Once a supreme martial artist, Tang Un-hwang now roamed Jianghu bearing internal injuries, a testament to the depth of his loss. The anguish of losing a lifelong partner—it was a weight Jeong Yeon-shin could scarcely fathom.
"Day and night may swap their clamor, yet their essence remains constant..."
Jeong Yeon-shin internalized Tang Un-hwang’s words, turning them over once before sealing them within his heart.
"Control qi with calm. Follow the path of the blade with tranquility within action."
With these thoughts, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward into the light emanating from Dongyeok, the Eastern Domain of Myunggongdo. His pace quickened, turning into a sprint, which then transformed into a gliding Qinggong.
The rushing wind of the Myung Clan’s secret movement technique coiled around his legs—a gift from Cheongmyeong’s teachings.
Crack!
The solid ground beneath his feet propelled him forward, leaving a burst of shattered stone in his wake. Jeong Yeon-shin surged ahead, his surroundings brightening as he entered the vast underground cavern.
Dongyeok was unlike any domain he had passed through before. It stretched endlessly, as if awaiting the ascension of a mythical serpent. The ceiling was so high it seemed boundless.
‘There it is...!’
His vision opened wide, taking in a ruined village within moments of entering. The once-expansive settlement was now a wasteland, as though a storm had swept through, leaving no homes intact.
And in the center of the devastation...
Masters clashed swords. Dozens of them, at least fifty. Every one of them radiated mastery.
Blades and bodies moved with such speed and precision that miniature tornadoes swirled across the battlefield.
The entire space had transformed into a theater of war, with every corner erupting in ferocious collisions.
Boom! Bang!
R𝑒ad latest chapt𝒆rs at freewebnovёl.ƈom Only.
The air trembled with the shockwaves of striking qi.
Battles of legendary martial artists lasting seven nights and days were not unheard of, but to witness such carnage upon entering was staggering.
How long had this skirmish dragged on? It seemed they had abandoned pursuit long ago and were now locked in a full-blown melee.
‘Ma Gwang-ik. Where is Ma Gwang-ik?’
As he ran, Jeong Yeon-shin scanned the battlefield.
Corpses littered the ground.
He had often heard the heavens were indifferent and merciless. Among the dead lay those who had once been his seniors.
By now, Jeong Yeon-shin was no stranger to the ways of Jianghu. He did not expect all to survive.
Reports from Ipwang Seong had already confirmed the deaths of two White Rank seniors. He merely hoped that additional casualties had been minimized.
‘Wu Liu-gwang, Du Cheongcheon...’
It was a futile wish. White-robed figures lay among the fallen in the ever-widening field of vision.
Not one White Rank member still stood among the living combatants. It seemed the Whites had been wiped out entirely.
Only a dozen or so of Ma Gwang-ik’s forces remained. Their Blue Rank uniforms were drenched in blood as they fought desperately. Even Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, the elites, bore heavy injuries.
Shiiiing!
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the words of Hong Jugeom before the formation of the Hwanikdae: “Lead with your blade in the vanguard.”
There was no time for commands or strategy. Unconsciously, he drew his sword.
“Who is that?!”
“Wait...! It’s Ipwang Seong!”
As he stormed the battlefield, hostile voices rose in alarm. Jeong Yeon-shin gripped his blade tightly as he plunged into the fray.
At the heart of the chaos...
Clang!
A black-robed arm flew through the air, severed cleanly from its owner’s body. The muscular arm spiraled high before crashing to the ground, leaving a crimson arc in its wake.
It belonged to Ma Gwang-ik, his left arm now reduced to a stump, the air around him distorted with turbulent qi.
The Ma Gwang-ik Leader had been fending off two supreme masters when his arm was taken.
“Leader of Ma Gwang-ik! You were hailed as the strongest of the Black Ranks, and you have proven the legend true!”
The proclamation came from a foreigner with golden hair and piercing blue eyes.
The Western man’s voice carried a potent wave of qi, a deliberate attempt to rally his allies.
Pure Devil Divine Hand Ha Yul-geuk.
An infamous grandmaster. His enormous physique exuded dominance.
Standing at over six feet tall, his azure gaze burned with authority. Draped in a pitch-black robe with no sleeves, he bore the distinctive garb of the Pure Devil Sect.
The Pure Devil Sect of Sichuan.
One of the thirteen factions of the Shisamcheon, the sect was a resurrected offshoot of the demonic cults eradicated during the founding of the Ming Dynasty.
Within this gathering of elites, Ha Yul-geuk reigned supreme. The man who severed Ma Gwang-ik’s arm exuded a brutal aura that made Jeong Yeon-shin’s skin tingle. This was the domain of Ipwang Seong’s Black Ranks.
It didn’t matter. Jeong Yeon-shin’s thoughts dissolved as instinct took over.
Boom!
The qi coursing through his soles detonated. The force shattered the stone beneath him, propelling Jeong Yeon-shin like a cannonball.
Whoosh!
Accelerating rapidly, he broke away from Hwanikdae, heading straight for the heart of the battle.
But the enemy’s response was swift. Fighters who had been pressing Ma Gwang-ik turned their attention to the charging youth. Six figures—a mix of men and women—rushed to intercept.
Masters of the Tenfold Gate and Pure Devil Sect unleashed their signature techniques, filling Jeong Yeon-shin’s path with a barrage of lethal strikes.
Fists, spears, and sword strikes surged toward him, each one deadly in its precision.
From Jeong Yeon-shin’s fingertips, the faint glow of Gwanghwageomryu pulsed. His sword, wielded like a crude club, swept through the onslaught.
Crack! Boom!
Weapons shattered, bodies crumpled, and agonized screams followed. Severed limbs and broken steel littered the ground behind him.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t slow for a moment.
Fortunately, these were minor combatants. The Blue Rank-level elites of the enemy were still focused on Ma Gwang-ik.
Thud!
Within moments, he reached the center of the battlefield, his ambush perfectly executed.
“Yeon-shin!”
Ma Gwang-ik’s voice trembled in surprise. Bloodied and one-armed, he was barely holding his ground against Ha Yul-geuk and another supreme master.
“Reinforcements?”
The older of the two enemy masters murmured. Standing beside Ha Yul-geuk, the man stepped lightly, positioning himself in Jeong Yeon-shin’s path. His movements were calm and deliberate, a stark contrast to the chaos around them.
He belonged to the Tenfold Gate. His dark green armor and oversized sword marked him as unique.
His reputation preceded him.
Sword Scorpion Devil Dokgo Gwang.
The master of eighteen weapon styles, he was famed as the leader of the Tenfold Gate’s most lethal strike force. Even among the Shisamcheon, he stood out as extraordinary.
“The qi of this fledgling is remarkable. Refined to an astounding degree. What is your name?”
Dokgo Gwang asked, his tone sincere. His piercing gaze swept over Jeong Yeon-shin, admiration and disbelief evident.
“You’ve tempered both body and spirit to an exceptional level. No... I’ve never seen such potential before. Why have you come here? Had you lived longer, you might have rivaled the greatest of the world.”
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent.
He wanted to assess his uncle’s condition, but the oppressive presence of the two grandmasters left no room for distractions.
Leisure was a luxury for the weak. In this moment, the strong were Dokgo Gwang and Ha Yul-geuk.
While they evaluated Jeong Yeon-shin with a mixture of regret and awe, Ma Gwang-ik battled Ha Yul-geuk.
The Ma Gwang-ik members were overwhelmed, barely managing to fend off the enemy’s elites. Their numbers were too few.
Even with Hwanikdae merging into the fight, the tide barely shifted. Their presence softened the blows but did not reverse the flow.
The battlefield lacked a game-changing force.
Tang Un-hwang continued to cut down clusters of Shisamcheon fighters, but even he couldn’t challenge both Dokgo Gwang and Ha Yul-geuk simultaneously.
His internal injuries, inflicted by the schemes of the Taesanggaju of the Sichuan Tang Clan, limited his strength.
‘I have to do it.’
Jeong Yeon-shin resolved.
This was the heart of the storm—where Ipwang Seong, the Pure Devil Sect, and the Tenfold Gate clashed in a cataclysmic struggle.
Three grandmasters of unparalleled renown had converged here. Whether he liked it or not, this was his trial by fire. He had no choice but to triumph.
“Come.”
Dokgo Gwang beckoned with a smile.
Jeong Yeon-shin ignited the full power of Jeongga Donggong. His body began to align itself, every muscle prepared for the challenge ahead.
***
Far from the battlefield, atop a rugged cliff face, a group of beggars lounged leisurely.
Each of them bore multiple knots at their waist—a mark of their high rank within the Beggars’ Sect. Despite the chaos below, their postures radiated an air of ease as they observed the unfolding battle.
“This situation is turning out to be quite tricky,” muttered Hu Gae, directing his words toward the other high-ranking beggars around him. “Ma Gwang-ik is getting pushed back more than I thought. Even if they’re up against twice the number of equal-level opponents, they should’ve been able to hold their ground defensively. But...”
“It seems to be because of the residents of Myunggongdo,” one of the beggars replied. “Looks like Ma Gwang-ik took pains to ensure their safety. That must have left them vulnerable.”
“Well, that’s to be expected,” Hu Gae conceded. “Trying to rescue hostages while short on manpower... At least we beggars can appreciate the sense of justice Ma Gwang-ik has shown. A rare thing these days.”
The group chuckled in agreement, their relaxed and almost slovenly postures contrasting sharply with their sharp observation of the chaos below.
“But finding an opening here is tough,” Hu Gae murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “The relic of Bodhidharma seems to have already fallen into the Pure Devil Sect’s hands... Oh, look at that. Samsalgeom has it.”
His gaze locked onto a figure below, and he frowned. “He’s not someone Ma Gwang-ik’s Blue Ranks could easily handle. Now, how do we go about retrieving it?”
As Hu Gae pondered aloud, something unexpected happened.
“I have a question,” a woman’s voice rang out, sharp yet eerily calm.
In an instant, a crimson radiance swept over the beggars, accompanied by an oppressive and chilling presence.
“What the...?”
The beggars stiffened as one, their heads snapping upward. They froze, realizing the overwhelming aura of a master beyond their capabilities.
A gasp of shock escaped them.
Standing perpendicular to the sheer rock face, a woman looked down at them. Her posture seemed utterly natural, as if gravity held no claim on her.
Her obsidian-black hair cascaded like a waterfall, and her striking red eyes gleamed with an unsettling light. She was clad entirely in a flowing robe the color of fresh blood—its rich hue both elegant and sinister.
Her ruby-like eyes surveyed the beggars slowly, her gaze unhurried yet suffocating. The beggars swallowed hard, sweat beading on their brows.
“The fragment of Bodhidharma’s qi essence,” she began, her voice soft yet piercing. “I wonder...”
“...”
“Would it be good for the body? I’m thinking of giving it to a boy about this big,” she mused, raising a flawless, alabaster hand in a gesture that seemed almost playful, even childlike.
“Of course! Of course, it would be incredibly beneficial!” Hu Gae stammered, his response hurried and desperate. “Such a relic would surely nurture extraordinary energy within the body! If it truly originates from Bodhidharma’s legacy, it could only bring blessings, not harm!”
“Hmm. Is that so?”
The corners of the Seventh Apostle’s lips curved upward slightly.