It was a peak moment.
The air clung to the skin of his right arm like fine silk. It felt as if he were performing a sword dance within a dream.
His focus wasn’t on the Shaanxi Supreme Demon.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t even register Wi Geuk-sang as a person. To him, the man was nothing more than an obstacle standing in the way of his path to save his niece.
No matter how formidable the opponent, it didn’t matter. He had grown weary of watching the great evils of the martial world trample over his mother’s legacy and the family bonds he cherished.
It was time for the Black Shade of Ipwang Fortress to declare his invincibility.
His vision remained blurry. Only the faint, distorted figure of the Shaanxi Supreme Demon lingered in his sight, blurred further by the potent effects of the painkiller.
“It’s fine.”
He simply followed the faint thread of light that unraveled in his mind like a spool of silk. His sword moved naturally along the trajectory of that luminous thread, aligning seamlessly with its path.
The sensation of his sword’s energy surging forward, as if propelled by an invisible force, was unmistakable. The sheer, unyielding talent coursing through Jeong Yeon-shin’s body dictated the motion.
It was Gu-myeong Cheolcho, an ultimate technique meant to shatter even the most extreme circumstances—a privilege reserved for the truly exceptional.
The path of the sword mirrored a bolt of lightning.
Light Blade, Like Will-o'-the-Wisp.
Vwoom!
The essence of the sword’s ultimate form traveled naturally from his crown to the tips of his fingers. It was the vivid, unimpeded image of thunderclaps and lightning storms.
"From the center, bend it downward, then rise again..."
As the Northern Bright Sword carved a dazzling arc, that dream-like luminescence clung to the blade like ghostly flames.
It was the fourth technique of the Thunder Blade Slash: Shimmering Light Blade.
At the end of it, there was a groan.
“Urgh...!”
The lightning-like trajectory flickered and vanished, shattering the surreal world that had enveloped him. His vision cleared in an instant, greeted first by the sight of blood spraying vividly before his eyes.
The strike had broken through the black blade’s defensive stance. A red slash marked the chest of the Shaanxi Supreme Demon, a long, horizontal gash running across his torso.
Blackened blood seeped out above and below the wound. The force of the sword strike had shattered even the demon’s protective aura, leaving a vicious trail in its wake.
The Radiant Wheel Qi imbued in the blade had finally invaded the demon’s body, and the results were devastating.
“H-How could... a man on the brink of death...!”
Wi Geuk-sang staggered a step back, his lips twisted in disbelief. The once-proud yellow robes, swollen with immense internal energy, now drooped lifelessly. He looked utterly defeated.
Huff—
Jeong Yeon-shin took in a breath and locked it within his body, barely managing to remain standing on trembling legs. The flower’s effects had dulled his pain but required him to strain his body to maintain his balance.
The hilt of his sword felt scalding in his palm. Shimmering Light Blade, the fourth stance of the Thunder Blade Slash, was a counterstrike technique.
The longer his and his opponent’s stances intertwined, the more lethal that single decisive slash became—a blade that manifested pure intuition, drawing out his innate talent to the fullest.
Unlike the second stance, Ninefold Lightning Descent, which required meticulous preparation, the fourth stance was instantaneous, seizing the fleeting opportunity for an overwhelming strike.
It was an attack born of chance, something that would seem accidental even to the most gifted warriors.
Such brief moments of heightened perception were notoriously difficult to replicate, often eluding even the most disciplined practitioners of martial meditation.
But Jeong Yeon-shin was different.
"The image of lightning striking a clear sky..."
He committed every sensation—the flow of qi through his body, the subtle movements of his muscles, and the shape of the strike—to memory.
Even freed from his usual meticulous control, he captured and retained the insight that had come to him in that moment. For him, it was unthinkable to let a revelation slip away.
The fourth stance of the Thunder Blade Slash was now fully developed.
His combat repertoire had expanded. Jeong Yeon-shin had taken another step toward becoming a perfected martial artist.
“...”
Meanwhile, the battlefield fell silent. The fighting and movements of those watching had come to a halt.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s wretched condition, juxtaposed against his overwhelming display of martial skill, sparked unspoken assumptions among the onlookers.
They had expected him to lose and die at the hands of the Shaanxi Supreme Demon. Even Wi Geuk-sang himself had fought with that conviction, only to find himself countered by an unimaginable sword technique.
The only murmurs came from Jeong Yeon-shin’s allies among the Ma Gwang-ik warriors. Those who were advancing through the broken encirclement, those standing guard—it made no difference.
“Did you see that?”
“Are you talking about his body?”
“No, the sword technique! I can’t believe it... but at least we can breathe a bit easier.”
“That madman... someone, fetch the medicine!”
At the center of the chaos, Wi Geuk-sang clutched his chest, staggering as blood poured through his fingers. The sheer volume was horrifying to behold.
The injuries rivaled Jeong Yeon-shin’s. For all his dominance as the regional ruler of the Yeoryeong branch in Shaanxi, the outcome was unthinkable.
“How could this...?”
“Lord Wi...!”
The dozens of Yeoryeong warriors could no longer hold back the Ma Gwang-ik forces.
The intrusion of a towering figure at the edge of the battlefield shattered what little resolve they had left.
A woman stood silently, observing Jeong Yeon-shin with an expression as serene as a white plum blossom. Her figure exuded a mystique, her pink robes flowing gently over her slender frame.
The warriors recognized her at once.
“The head of Mount Hua... Guangye Chae herself is here!”
“She must have been watching the new schools of the unorthodox sects... and we got caught up in her gaze.”
“This is the end. We need to escape, even if just a few of us.”
Known as the Sacred Flame Sword Spirit, Yulha Nangnang of Mount Hua was a figure of overwhelming power in Shaanxi. Her delicate beauty, to the unorthodox sects, was akin to a portrait of Yama, the god of death.
To them, she was invincible.
The defensive lines surrounding the Ma Gwang-ik Lord and the Shaanxi Supreme Demon crumbled in an instant.
“Lord! Lord!”
“It’s over! The mission is complete! Lord Jeong has won!”
As the Ma Gwang-ik warriors rushed to Jeong Yeon-shin, the two duelists still glared at each other.
Both stood, chests heaving, drenched in blood, their swords lowered but still ready. Jeong Yeon-shin’s ragged breaths came in staccato gasps.
The black robe draped over his red-stained bandages fluttered faintly with each breath.
“...”
A single strike would decide life and death.
Even the presence of Mount Hua’s leader did not register in their focus. Their concentration was beyond mortal comprehension.
Then.
Hurk—!
Wi Geuk-sang spat out blood, its dark hue streaming violently down his chin. The Ma Gwang-ik warriors froze.
It wasn’t a normal sight. Blood usually blackens over time. To spit out dark blood immediately was a clear sign of conflicting energies—a result of Weight Dispersion Method.
Wi Geuk-sang twisted his lips into a painful smile.
“Both your martial art and swordsmanship... you’re a dual prodigy. A mistake of the heavens.”
He had infused his fatal strike with Dharmic power, not just focusing on the blade’s trajectory but ensuring it would deal a critical blow. This was talent capable of turning a single decisive hit into a death sentence.
Wi Geuk-sang thought bitterly. The moment he had chosen to embrace demonic martial arts, was it already fated that his death would come at the hands of someone like this?
He chuckled weakly.
“The honor of a defeated martial artist lies in the skill of their opponent. For your status, your youth, and your strength, you surpass even the noble lineages. The world must seem laughable to you. I sincerely hope you don’t meet an untimely end in this martial world. I truly mean that.”
“...Some of your dying words hold truth. Yes, the heavens made a mistake.”
Jeong Yeon-shin replied slowly.
At the same time, a deep smile spread across Wi Geuk-sang’s face.
“I see the spirit of unorthodox mastery in you.”
He muttered.
“You, arrogant scion of Ipwang Fortress... your nature is suited for the path of tyranny.”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t respond.
Without a word, he raised his sword in a diagonal slash.
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Swoosh—!
The "First Demon of Shaanxi" didn’t close his eyes until Ma Gwang-ik's sword filled his pupils with a stark, blinding white.
He stared directly at the unrestrained trajectory slicing through the air. In an instant, the radiant sword light fractured beneath the chin of the enemy, Wi Geuk-sang.
‘Now.’
Jeong Yeon-shin felt it distinctly in his outstretched hand. The severing was complete. The sensation of tearing apart the lingering protective energy was sharp and vivid.
Thud.
The enemy's head dropped amidst the grass blades.
For a moment, there was silence. The martial artists of Yulha Nangnang's faction remained frozen, unable to move.
Swish—
A desolate winter wind swept through the shattered thickets, scattering broken twigs and debris.
As the frosty air settled around the ruins left by the clash of the martial elites, the lifeless body of the demonic high master collapsed heavily onto the frozen earth.
Thump.
That marked the turning point.
The elite warriors of Ma Gwang-ik finally turned their attention to Jeong Yeon-shin. The forceful backlash of his qi dispersed the dust in all directions.
"We shouldn't have provoked him!"
"How many times must I tell you? From now on, I’ll be extra careful with my words!"
"Can you still move? Here, lean on me."
Calloused hands reached out toward the Master but hesitated mid-air. Jeong Yeon-shin's torso was laid bare, deep gashes exposing his abdominal muscles. The flesh beneath the coarse bandages glistened crimson, dissuading anyone from acting rashly.
"Master, forgive us. We’ve committed a grave offense... truly, we are ashamed."
Even Sa Wol-gungwi, usually composed and a master archer of the Yulha Nangnang faction, clasped her hands and bowed deeply in apology.
"Enough with the fuss."
Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head faintly, gesturing for them to back away.
He needed to find Hye-a. Beyond ordering his comrades to search, he wanted to see for himself. According to Baek Mi-ryeo, who had interrogated the Ghostblade Swordmaster, Hye-a was here somewhere, trapped in some hidden place.
He took slow steps forward.
"Yeon-shin! Yeon-shin!"
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed from afar. It was his friend, Yu Hyeon of the Mount Hua Sect, a companion who always seemed to be on the receiving end of trouble.
‘Mount Hua is one of Shaanxi’s great sects. Their Guangye Faction has made a name for itself, so perhaps they followed the clues to this inn.’
A faint smile crossed his weary face at the sound.
"May I finally introduce myself? I’ve been observing for quite a while now."
A clear, resonant voice interrupted from nearby. The sheer intensity of the qi exuded was terrifying.
As he turned his head, the first thing to catch his eyes was her pale, elegant nose. She stood close—so close that her overwhelming presence practically rang in his ears.
"Your sword is quite fearsome," she remarked in a calm tone, meeting Ma Gwang-ik's gaze slowly.
"Yulha Nangnang, the Hidden Orchid of the Fragrant Peak."
"The Sword God of Mount Hua should keep her distance...!"
Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo hissed, rushing forward with urgency and concern etched across their faces. The approach of such an unparalleled master was something even the armed forces of Ipwang Fortress couldn’t handle with ease.
After all, the Headmaster of Mount Hua was a supreme figure, an absolute force in the martial world. It was said she had mastered the pinnacle of Za-Ha Divine Arts, halting her aging entirely.
Only now did Jeong Yeon-shin fully register Yulha Nangnang's presence.
"Thank you... for your help," he said haltingly, his unsteady breathing breaking his words.
Yulha Nangnang’s enigmatic smile deepened. Her expression revealed countless nuances—a gentle mountain breeze, yet also the menacing ruggedness of the treacherous Mount Hua.
"I did nothing," she said lightly. "I was merely curious."
"Speak your mind," he replied.
"The Sword Ghost of Simmu-ryeon has been watching you. Before I chased him away, his gaze was fixed on you with remarkable clarity. A curious sense of melancholy flowed into my upper dantian...."
Her soft smile didn’t fade as she continued, "What’s your connection to him?"
"I don’t know."
"Truly?"
"Yes. And besides... this isn’t something the Master of Mount Hua needs to hear from the leader of Ipwang Fortress."
"...."
The silence that followed was weighty, pressing upon everyone present.
The headmaster of one of the Nine Great Sects was a figure who could rival even the purple-ranked warriors of Ipwang Fortress. A true master of the martial world.
Had Jeong Yeon-shin not been utterly battered, drained by painkillers, and consumed with concern for his niece, his tone might have been more respectful.
Yet the supreme martial artist of Mount Hua showed no anger.
She merely smiled.
"The seeds of demonic paths should not be taken lightly. Who knows what schemes may cross your path in the future? I merely wish to ensure no shadow lingers over you. As much as Ipwang Fortress protects the people, the martial world remains a place of tension between right and wrong."
"My path awaits me," Jeong Yeon-shin said, his voice firm.
"I trust you will understand Mount Hua’s stance," she said, raising her hand in a faintly playful gesture. The soft glow of twilight seemed to radiate from her fingertips. The aura of her impending departure silenced the surroundings. None present could hope to stop her.
And then—
Gasps erupted from the onlookers.
Ma Gwang-ik had suddenly grasped her hand.
"You mentioned shadows," he said.
He channeled energy into the Lao Gong acupuncture point on his palm. Despite the palpable flow of his internal energy, Yulha Nangnang simply gazed at him, unmoving.
Her demeanor suggested she didn’t mind even if he were to strike her directly. Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin infused his grip with the essence of Radiant Wheel Qi instead.
Vroom.
"I must find my family first," he said.
The energy was sacred, no less potent than the renowned Daoist force of the Three Pure Ones. It coursed into the hand of the Mount Hua Master.
At the same time, white qi, visible like a gust of wind, dissipated in all directions.
"Use this to cleanse yourself," Jeong Yeon-shin said abruptly, releasing her hand and walking past her with deliberate steps.