‘A fragment of Dharmic energy?’
It was a treasure once imbued within the sacred artifact of Myeonggondo. A ring of light flickered in the boy’s upper Danjeon.
They called it Yeongseong, a divine presence that elevated weapons into the realm of sacred arms.
‘This is...’
It felt like an explosion of inspiration igniting within his mind. The intensity was overwhelming, as if it were drawing out the full extent of his latent potential.
Bodhidharma. The pure imagery of Buddhist martial arts surged forth, yet his Baihui Point remained unscathed.
Was the Dharmic energy compensating for the burden of his shortened lifespan?
The moment he sat cross-legged, everything else faded from his consciousness. It was as if he had become utterly detached from the world.
The battlefield’s chaos, Ma Gwang-ik’s missing left arm, the desperate plight of the Ipwang Fortress warriors, even the Seventh Apostle’s erratic maneuvers—all of it was pushed away.
To complete a martial technique capable of changing the tide of war, his mind needed absolute focus. He calmed his thoughts.
Recalling the craftsmen of Myeonggondo, he adopted their mindset.
The teachings of the Tang Clan Leader came to him vividly—advice given with a cheerful grin during their conversation about forging weapons.
“If you pour your soul into your hammer blows, your creations will embody divine presence. That’s what they call a sacred weapon or sacred armor.”
“Create...? What exactly is Yeongseong?” Yeon-shin had asked.
“It’s a force beyond the reach of ordinary perception, distinct from inner energy. A mysterious quality only those at the pinnacle of mastery can wield.”
“Are you boasting?”
“Think about an old, battered sword repairing itself, restoring its form. Isn’t that magnificent? Like the mythical giant Pangu, humans can create life through their hands.”
What Yeon-shin was trying to forge now was no different—a martial technique with Yeongseong.
It would allow him to harness the fruit of the Heavenly Tree and elevate himself to greater heights, breathing life into his martial arts.
‘Speed of cultivation is key. Imagine creating the fastest, most stable technique in the world. Even if it’s impossible, that’s the mindset I need.’
Deep in meditation, Yeon-shin focused on his Baihui Point, observing the vast reservoir of energy just below it. He could clearly sense the looming end of his three-year lifespan.
To survive—
He needed to transcend the black stage and reach the violet. The rank of the Sword Corps Captain was a separate challenge.
Even claiming that position wouldn’t guarantee achievements. He also had to justify why the Fortress Lord should grant him the fruit of the Heavenly Tree.
The world Yeon-shin envisioned was limited to three years. His time was finite.
The end of the world was coming. He would die. That made this moment all the more critical.
‘Today, I must stand on equal footing with the black-stage masters.’
For that, he needed this new inner cultivation technique.
The routes for energy circulation had already been mapped out, meticulously planned.
From Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique to the Moon Spirit Harmony Technique, Yeon-shin had dismantled countless manuals that others would covet.
He analyzed the effects of energy flow and inner cultivation methods, breaking them down to rebuild a new system.
Before coming to Myeonggondo, he had completed the preparatory work. The energy circulation routes were in place, forming a solid framework.
All he needed now was the inspiration to refine his own technique.
Inner focus.
The fusion of mental imagery and energy was what created a martial technique. Harmony between mind and nature’s energy gave birth to true inner power.
‘I just need the final touch.’
Yeon-shin recalled the first verse of his technique: the intention of cultivation. He sought to harmonize his earnest desire with the natural energy of the world.
The words came easily. For Yeon-shin, earnestness was singular in nature.
When the sun sets, another day slips away.
The flow of sun and moon is like water, yet this body is less than a salmon swimming upstream.
I wish to defy the heavens, but I follow their will. No matter how I struggle, I cannot overcome it.
This was the first verse of his new cultivation technique, a foundation for merging intent with natural energy.
As he initiated the technique and his intent fused with his energy, a reaction occurred. Natural energy began to flow upward with his inhalation.
It felt the same as always. The problem was what came next.
Distraction.
The mind was clouded with impurities. With his current breathing technique, he couldn’t fully harmonize with nature’s energy. The flow would start, then falter and dissipate.
The fragmented forces within his body—Jeong Ga-donggong, Moon Spirit Harmony Technique, Demon-Destroying Azure Unyielding Palm, Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique—each carried its own properties, preventing full integration.
He needed a unifying insight to bridge the gaps.
‘I must weave this together using the teachings of the Diamond Sutra.’
With the presence of Bodhidharma’s divine essence, he thought it might be possible.
Kiiiiing!
The upper Danjeon sharpened his senses and fortified his intent for managing energy.
Through the endlessly opening Baihui Point, a boundless supply of energy flowed in. As his consciousness heightened, his innate energy also surged.
Hwaaaak!
The Baihui Point filled with light, blending with the fragment of Bodhidharma’s essence and breaking through its limits.
In this moment, the light expanded once again. Yeon-shin paid it no mind. It didn’t matter.
Bodhidharma’s energy and Yeon-shin’s intent fused completely. A perfect harmony.
He recalled a teaching from the Diamond Sutra.
“Let the mind flow freely. Know without attachment or constraint.”
When the mental image finally took form, when the sincerity built through effort became tangible, it was called inner cultivation.
‘Ah.’
Realizing what he already knew was another form of enlightenment. The flower of light in his mind bloomed fully.
It spun like a wheel, drawing in the energy of nature as its own.
Eyes closed, Yeon-shin thought:
...My distractions stem from a desire to burn through this brief reincarnation.
Borrowing the Buddha’s wheel as a stepping stone feels right.
‘Thus, it shall be called Luminescent Revolving Wheel.’
At that moment, the scattered energies within his body united into a single radiant force.
Even with his eyes closed, his vision turned white. The brightness stung, but he didn’t care. His consciousness whispered endlessly.
If destiny is the law of the heavens—
Then I will surpass those laws, no matter the cost.
‘That’s why it’s called Surpassing the Law.’
He gave his new inner cultivation technique a name, defining its identity against the mysteries of the world.
Finally, the finishing touch. The divine presence of Bodhidharma and Yeon-shin’s intent merged into a shapeless martial art.
While Jeong Ga-donggong refined his body, this new technique integrated its principles with the powers of inner cultivation.
It allowed constant circulation of energy, both in gathering and releasing.
The radiant flow surged within his body. It coursed through every meridian, pathway, and pressure point.
All the distinct energies within him—Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique, Demon-Destroying Azure Unyielding Palm, Moon Spirit Harmony Technique—merged into one within the crucible of his new technique.
The demonic energy of the blood arts, and the righteous energy of the orthodox arts, fused as if wild beasts were transforming into divine creatures.
Yeon-shin realized this instinctively: his energies could now unify gently or split violently, depending on his will.
This was an entirely different realm.
‘I’ll shape you...’
He visualized the form he desired, capturing the divine presence with his consciousness and molding it into tangible form.
Like a craftsman of Myeonggondo, he imbued it with clarity and precision.
‘I’ll call it Surpassing the Law, Luminescent Revolving Qi and make it my measure of the world!’
In his soul, he roared. In the realm of his intent, a great echo resounded.
Wooooong!
“What... is this?”
“Interim Leader! Are you alright?”
The voices of Baek Mi-ryeo and Tae Yeom-ryong reached his ears faintly.
The white current surrounding Yeon-shin’s seated body gathered into a single point.
It condensed near his solar plexus—the middle Danjeon. A vortex of energy swirled violently.
The wheel spinning in his mind grew clearer, taking solid form within his heart.
Wooooong!
The sound of resonance was deafening.
A ring of light—the driving force of this new inner cultivation technique.
It was a legend of the impossible, fully realized. The wheel of the Turning Sage King pressed ever forward.
It was said to crush mountains and boulders as it spread its teachings.
‘This... is my sacred creation.’
Yeon-shin opened his eyes. Even without focusing, he could feel it vividly.
The luminous wheel embedded in his heart pulsed with life.
***
As Jeong Yeon-shin charged forward, leaving the formation behind, Namgung Hwa-shin led the Hwanik Corps into the battlefield. Four elite blue-stage martial artists, including Hong Jugeom, followed after him.
There was no one else as capable as Baek Kirin to assume command. Entrusting this to Tae Yeom-ryong was out of the question.
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“Ten Gates brought their best elites!”
“Their skills are unparalleled! Avoid direct clashes and use rapid techniques for quick exchanges!”
The Hwanik Corps soon scattered. There were simply too many high-level opponents.
The fundamental difference between Ipwang Fortress and Thirteen Heavens was manpower. Individually, the clans of Thirteen Heavens were no match for the fortress, but as a collective force, they held the advantage.
This was one of those times.
“We need to cut off the heads of their leaders,” Namgung Hwa-shin thought. The conclusion was clear.
He turned his gaze.
At the heart of the battlefield, Jeong Yeon-shin was coughing up blood as he was pulled back by Cheong-anma-geom, Cheongmyeong, while the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Sect schemed.
It was a battlefield where nothing could be predicted. Namgung Hwa-shin’s emotions surged.
Amidst the chaos, Cheongmyeong struggled to deflect Dokgo Gwang, the Sword Demon of the Ten Gates. It was a desperate battle.
The blade of Cheongmyeong’s Ipwang Sword, once sharp and precise, now moved sluggishly.
Every motion was delayed. The natural power of the Myung Clan, their inborn Seoncheon ability, was the only thing keeping him alive.
“Seven rotations or more of disadvantage, yet he’s still holding on. Truly impressive.”
Namgung Hwa-shin respected the elder warrior.
Cheongmyeong was a famous swordsman. His temperament was one of extremes—he either liked you or he didn’t, with little middle ground. As a member of the Myung Clan, he enjoyed unspoken authority.
For someone usually so composed, this was unprecedented.
“If he collapses further, we’ll lose all hope of victory.”
Namgung Hwa-shin bolted forward, moving with lightning speed. His blue robes fluttered, carrying the essence of Muae Cheongryu-shin, the Flowing Body Art. In an instant, he reached the center of the battlefield.
The oppressive aura of Dokgo Gwang’s immense energy struck him.
“Ipwang Fortress, truly a den of demonic power.”
The beard covering Dokgo Gwang’s lips curled upward as he spoke, his voice cold and indifferent. He had just deflected Cheongmyeong’s sword with devastating force.
The Myung swordsman somersaulted backward in midair, his movements sluggish under the crushing weight of Dokgo Gwang’s energy.
Namgung Hwa-shin’s hair whipped violently as he approached, evidence of the overwhelming pressure.
“So many remarkable young warriors. The Imperial Sword should not be this sharp. It is only right that you all die here.”
Dokgo Gwang’s voice carried a detached ruthlessness as he swung his massive greatsword once more.
It was a weighty strike. Though not of the Myung Clan, the wind generated by his blade swept forward like a cannonball, obliterating everything in its path.
Boom!
Namgung Hwa-shin raised his Ipwang Sword to counter the oncoming wind. There was no room to evade.
Behind him, Shin Bin-bin, one of the younger white-stage disciples, was frozen with worry, unable to act.
The shockwave from their clash rippled outward, scattering debris across the vast cavern floor.
“Urgh!”
A groan escaped Namgung Hwa-shin’s lips. The energy Dokgo Gwang emitted was unbearably heavy.
It didn’t feel human. He was clearly at a higher level than Namgung Hwa-shin—he was in the Black Stage.
Cheongmyeong and Namgung Hwa-shin’s sword techniques intertwined, forming dual trajectories. The clash between swords resounded in the cavern.
Clang! Clang!
Dokgo Gwang’s greatsword measured nearly seventy percent of his height, a weapon only a select few martial artists could wield.
He swung it with effortless precision. Each strike was alive with meticulous technique, displaying an unparalleled mastery of the blade.
Even a single thrust sent shockwaves exploding outward, grazing Cheongmyeong’s temple. Blood sprayed as the edge of the strike nicked him.
The next move was a horizontal slash. The massive blade arced toward Namgung Hwa-shin.
At that moment, Namgung Hwa-shin pushed backward with all his might.
The slicing wind from the attack tore through the front of his blue robes, narrowly missing him.
It was the Infinite Steps Technique, a signature skill of the Namgung Clan.
‘I can’t win. His breathing is on a different level.’
Pain shot through his chest as he thought this.
The breathing of a high-level master reflected their martial skill. Exhaling unleashed techniques, while inhaling gathered inner energy. The cycle of attack and recovery defined a swordsman’s caliber.
Dokgo Gwang’s breathing rhythm clearly outclassed both Namgung Hwa-shin and Cheongmyeong. His strikes came in relentless succession.
Strength, skill, and breath.
It was hopeless. He couldn’t keep up. Once again, Namgung Hwa-shin felt the crushing despair of his inadequacy.
The same despair he had felt when Jeong Yeon-shin slew his older brother Namgung Se-jin, and when Vice-Captain Ak Soo-rim of the Sacred Sword Division knocked him unconscious.
Gooooooong!
Suddenly, a deafening surge of power erupted behind him. It roared like a storm echoing through a deep canyon.
A brilliant white flash streaked past Cheongmyeong and Namgung Hwa-shin. A storm followed in its wake.
Kwaaaaaaang!
Jeong Yeon-shin, his eyes glowing with radiant white light, burst forth with an overwhelming presence.
No longer moving like a leaf in the wind, his newfound power seemed to tear through the air itself as he surged forward.
Dokgo Gwang’s eyes widened. He raised his greatsword to meet the oncoming force.
Clang!
A thunderous explosion echoed through the cavern as the Ipwang Sword collided with Dokgo Gwang’s greatsword. It didn’t end there.
Jeong Yeon-shin twisted his stance, applying wristwork to guide his blade along the side of Dokgo Gwang’s weapon.
The sheer mastery of his technique sent Dokgo Gwang’s greatsword veering off-course, grazing past Jeong Yeon-shin’s head. The boy didn’t even blink.
With his glowing eyes focused, Jeong Yeon-shin lunged toward the exposed side of his opponent. The blinding white light from his gaze intensified.
‘Is he even human...?!’
For the first time, Dokgo Gwang’s eyes widened in disbelief. The force pressing against his sword had become impossible to bear.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s left hand shot forward. He had been preparing this move ever since he broke from his meditative stance.
With a palm strike, Hwan-gang—a technique imbued with overwhelming force—erupted from his hand. The surrounding ground shook violently as swirling shockwaves tore through the cavern floor.
The raw power obliterated everything in its path. Dokgo Gwang’s defensive energy shattered upon impact. The devastating strike sent the upper half of Dokgo Gwang’s body flying backward.
The renowned Sword Demon of Ten Gates was killed instantly.
Jeong Yeon-shin emerged from the cloud of debris, his tattered blue robes trailing behind him. Dust and blood swirled together in the air.
The battlefield fell silent.
Warriors from Ipwang Fortress, Ten Gates, Blood Flame Sect, and the various other factions all turned their eyes toward the center of the battlefield.
There, Jeong Yeon-shin stood at the heart of it all, his glowing white eyes piercing through the stillness.
The young martial prodigy had claimed an overwhelming victory, his Luminescent Revolving Wheel Qi radiating an aura of absolute dominance.