On a hill overlooking the embattled manor.
The grass, dulled by winter's touch, had turned a rusty ochre. Even as the swordsmen who seemed to fly through the air descended onto the hill, the ground remained eerily still.
The sounds of clashing blades and weapons from below seemed distant, as if separated from the serene hill. A quiet, otherworldly aura slowly spread among the five figures present.
Plum Blossom Swordmasters of Mount Hua.
The embroidered petals on their white robes swayed delicately with their movements, exuding a refined elegance.
The ripple of energy caused by the subtle movements of Mount Hua’s Amhyang Pyo technique settled just as quickly as it appeared. This was the realm of the ancient arts, the pinnacle of refinement and control.
Crunch.
Leading the trio of Plum Blossom Swordmasters, a woman in a soft pink robe with an old, worn sword at her waist stepped onto a blade of grass. The moment her white-socked foot touched the earth, the yellowed grass beneath her turned green, as though spring had arrived in an instant.
The blades of grass stood upright, unbent even beneath her delicate steps, as if in reverence. This was the pinnacle of bodily harmony and the art of self-preservation.
The swordmasters following her exchanged astonished whispers among themselves.
“Senior Brother, is this the Living Sword that the Sect Leader has achieved with her own body?”
“It seems your question already carries its answer. How could it be anything but the unity of sword and spirit?”
“No, you’re both mistaken. It’s not the Living Sword. This is the Sect Leader’s intent shaping reality itself. Her mastery of the sword has reached an incomprehensible level.”
Despite her back turned to them, they didn’t hesitate to discuss her martial prowess. This was the hallmark of the Mount Hua Sect’s teachings—unyielding discipline toward outsiders yet freedom to express thoughts and curiosity within their ranks.
A young Taoist boy stood beside her, pointing frantically downhill, as if imploring his elder sister for attention.
“Master! Master...!”
“Yu Hyeon, don’t rush. Your friend’s sword is worth observing,” came her melodic reply.
“But Master! Look at him now! Something’s wrong with his eyes! And that thing in his mouth... isn’t that a poppy flower? Even if he’s had some bad luck, he’s always acted as upright as we Taoists do!”
“Words should be accurate, Yu Hyeon. What part of your conduct could be called Taoist? It would be a miracle if Mount Hua’s reputation remains unscathed because of you. Wasn’t it you who sought wine at Yeonhwa Peak not long ago? The smell of alcohol was extraordinary.”
“Master, your words make no sense! How can you remain so calm in such a dire situation...?”
“I have something to confirm. Be silent now. I must discern why the Sword Demon of Simmu-ryeon is watching that boy so intently.”
Suddenly, the sounds of birds in the surrounding forest fell silent.
***
The manor where Jeong Hye was held captive.
The Thirteen Heavens Yeoryeong branch and the Ip Hwangseong Ma Gwang-ik faction clashed violently.
Jeong Yeon-shin seared the unfolding scene into his memory. The ruined manor blurred before him, its structure crumbling under the impact of martial clashes everywhere. Yet his focus honed in on a singular point—the most dangerous enemy threatening the Ma Gwang-ik forces.
Boom! Crash!
A grizzled, elderly swordsman, clad in a yellow robe, unleashed overwhelming strikes.
With every blow of his sword, a black mist surged, spreading an oppressive force that pressed down on all around him. It was an extraordinary display of internal energy mastery.
The black smoke encircling his sword slashed and crushed its surroundings, scattering in chaotic tendrils. This tangible manifestation of internal energy was terrifying in its destructive capability.
The Ma Gwang-ik masters encircling him were unable to hold their ground. Even the elite members of Ip Hwangseong could only manage limited engagement, their movements constrained as if balancing precariously on a tightrope.
This was Seomseo’s Greatest Demon, Wi Geuk-sang, one of Yeoryeong’s trusted enforcers and a figure whom Jeong Yeon-shin, even before mastering the Neungbeop Gwangryun Technique, would never have dared to challenge.
Wi Geuk-sang had roamed the martial world for decades, his power solidifying his reputation as an opponent one might only hope to avoid.
Though wrinkles framed his eyes, they twinkled with a strange humor. His deranged laughter echoed, betraying his complete disregard for the deaths of his subordinates.
"Such refined techniques, and impressive accomplishments to boot! So, it was you who spirited away the Chaneum Twin Demons! Isn't it worthy of my personal attention to undo such insolence?"
Hahaha!
He laughed, smashing through beams of radiant sword energy with his blade. His peculiar temperament was as unnerving as his ferocity.
Among the martial world's Demon Masters, Wi Geuk-sang stood out as a figure who derived sadistic pleasure from cutting down those of high martial achievement. He wasn’t merely a madman; he was an unparalleled expert who possessed the strength to make good on his monstrous inclinations.
"The leader of your band is just a child! Perhaps killing two of you will make his face worth looking at. Come on, then! Come forward!"
Clang! Boom!
The manor reverberated with earth-shaking blasts and storms of dust. The Ma Gwang-ik masters, seasoned fighters who had slaughtered hundreds at Daewol-hyeop, were staggering in his wake.
The disparity in martial prowess was evident. Even Wi Geuk-sang’s mocking remarks carried a tangible threat.
The presence of a supreme master was unmistakable.
In the martial world, an exceptional expert could rival an entire army.
Thus, the essence of large-scale battles lay in duels between the commanders of each side. The leader of Ip Hwangseong’s strike force, Jeong Yeon-shin, knew this principle well. He had heard it countless times from Ma Jin and Ak Su-rim:
The subordinates existed to secure a one-on-one confrontation for their leader. For someone of the Black Rank, it was their duty to advance through any path made for them and finish the fight decisively.
'The situation is dire. One mistake in the flow of energy from the Gwangye-gyeol formations, and the balance will collapse. If that happens, we’ll be slaughtered, just like the Seomseo Seven Gates’ leaders fell to me.'
With deliberate precision, Jeong Yeon-shin shifted his stance. The tips of his leather shoes adjusted to align perfectly parallel.
A faint blue aura began emanating from his temples, flowing outward.
The two white-clad warriors guarding Tae Yeom-ryong, Dan Gang Blade Guest Ho Un-cheol and Jeong Sim-an Jegal Cheong-ah, froze in alarm.
Ho Un-cheol, a gaunt figure who rarely showed emotion, now looked desperate as he attempted to stop Jeong Yeon-shin.
"You can’t! Not in your condition...!"
Jegal Cheong-ah, however, didn’t move to stop him. Her sharp gaze briefly flicked toward the unconscious Tae Yeom-ryong, then returned to Jeong Yeon-shin with a glimmer of insight.
"You’re telling us to leave him... so you can draw their attention?"
"Exactly."
Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze swept forward, his focus sharpened despite the haze of pain that dulled his senses.
Even so, his surroundings swayed like a drunken vision. The enemies before him seemed to multiply, their forms splitting apart. It was the amplified effect of the poppy flower combined with his Gwangryun Technique.
"That one’s alone! No backup!"
"His energy feels unusual—don’t take him lightly!"
"Kill him first! The ones with Wi Dae-in can wait!"
Their shouts, distorted like echoes, reverberated through his mind, bypassing his ears and striking directly at his thoughts.
It was dizzying, but Jeong Yeon-shin ignored it. He had already pushed his battered body beyond its limits, relying on the poppy’s influence to suppress his pain.
The flower wouldn’t last long. He needed to finish this quickly.
The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.
The moment had come to put his short-term battle philosophy to the ultimate test.
"You dare step here, knowing where you are?"
"Attack!"
The enemies rushed forward. Their distorted forms blurred in Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision, but he gripped his sword tightly, willing himself to focus.
If he couldn’t see them clearly, he would simply destroy everything.
Boom!
Wind exploded from beneath his feet, tearing the earth apart as he launched forward with the force of the Wind God Technique. Dust and soil scattered in his wake as his charge accelerated.
The enemies’ killing intent loomed, their faces growing larger in his view.
Jeong Yeon-shin channeled the energy of his Gwangryun Technique through his right shoulder and down to his blade. His muscles coiled, compressed by finely tuned internal energy.
Shing!
The blade of the Northern Lights Sword was drawn.
Without hesitation, he brought it down in a devastating arc, targeting the group ahead.
Crash! Boom!
The ground erupted as blades shattered and gauntlets splintered under the overwhelming force of his strike.
Two enemies were flung backward, coughing up blood, while another fell, sliced in two. A path was carved straight through their ranks.
The destructive might of his swordsmanship left no room for comparison.
As two more enemies leaped from above with spears aimed at him, Jeong Yeon-shin ducked under their descending weapons and thrust his left hand backward.
He didn’t even look.
The swirling energy from his heart surged down his arm, bursting outward in a violent vortex.
The Thousand Blossoms Rain.
Shhhh!
Fragments of shattered steel rose like a storm of petals, piercing through the airborne enemies. Their bodies twisted in midair, blood spraying as the storm tore them apart.
The battlefield fell silent for a moment, the remnants of Jeong Yeon-shin’s technique towering like a whirlpool of destruction.
"Something big is coming—brace yourselves!"
"Turn around—don’t expose your backs!"
"Hold the line! Aghh—!"
The Ma Gwang-ik warriors knew their leader’s methods. As soon as Jeong Yeon-shin raised his hand, they scattered, retreating to safety.
The Yeoryeong fighters, unaware of what was coming, paid the price.
Shhhhhh!
A chilling metallic rain swept across the battlefield, cutting down dozens in its path. Blood and screams filled the air as bodies collapsed.
The overwhelming power of a wide-area technique, fueled by poppy-induced recklessness, had decimated the opposition.
"......."
Those who hadn’t fled were left in shreds, unrecognizable.
Even Wi Geuk-sang, standing among the Ma Gwang-ik masters, was momentarily silent.
The Seomseo Demon’s wrinkled face twisted into a faint smirk. His disdain for his opponent hadn’t changed, but the flicker of surprise in his eyes was undeniable.
Gradually, he suppressed his menacing aura.
"That energy of yours...."
"Seomseo’s Greatest Demon, Wi Geuk-sang."
Jeong Yeon-shin’s intoxicated smirk widened, his crimson-stained lips curving into a wicked grin.
"Your face is still not worth looking at."