The ground quaked violently.
The pale dust, mixed with fragmented stone debris, swept across the air as if a bomb had gone off. This was all due to the translucent whirlwind emanating endlessly from Jeong Yeon-shin's extended left palm.
The vibrations spreading beneath his feet were overwhelming. On the suddenly shaking summit, the atmosphere blurred and distorted.
It was an unbelievable sight, even when witnessed with one's own eyes.
An earthquake, triggered by a human hand, was causing a massive stone wall to crumble into ruins.
Jang Sun-il, having collapsed on the ground, was unable to regain his composure. His dazed face and trembling lips could only produce faint groans as his hands clutched at his throat.
Only after Bukgung Lin roughly grabbed him by the back of his neck did his focus return to his wide, vacant eyes.
“Madness... Absolute madness!”
Jang Sun-il muttered curses under his breath, but Bukgung Lin, hauling him along, kicked off the ground. She muttered anxiously, as if speaking to herself, “Do you know him? Who is he? What is his identity?”
The hem of her trousers flapped violently, as though struck by a thunderclap. The dense vibration of her light-footed leap reverberated heavily beneath her feet, while the torrent of force originating from the explosive palm strike seemed to devour every echo around them.
They had to get away from the source of this explosion.
“That power—could he even be human...?”
Bukgung Hu, who was fleeing alongside her, muttered in disbelief, his raised eyebrows betraying his shock even amidst their urgent retreat.
Even dealing with Nangwang Geum Si-hu was already overwhelming—an elite martial artist of unparalleled strength. And yet, this traveling companion of theirs had just displayed an attack beyond comprehension.
Who could have imagined this?
No one would have believed it, not even in their wildest dreams. Their young companion, who had silently traveled alongside them, possessed a divine power that could rival the strongest warriors of the Frozen Lands.
“Just a little farther... we need to put more distance between us!”
“Of course! And keep your protective energy tightly bound!” Bukgung Lin barked back at him.
The overwhelming waves of energy flooding in from behind gave weight to her words.
Even as they fled at full speed using their light-foot techniques, the aura of the combatants—these supreme masters—was vividly tangible. The intensity of the undulating energy only grew stronger with every step, to the point of inducing fear. It was enough to make even the dignified nobles of the Frozen North break into a frantic sprint.
It was impossible to watch a battle between supreme masters from below. A single misstep, being hit by a stray wave of energy, could mean immediate death—or worse.
The twins angled their escape sideways, swiftly planting their feet on the ground and ascending a nearby hill. They circled around the position where Nangwang Geum Si-hu had been standing on the boulder.
Bukgung Lin released her grip on Jang Sun-il’s neck, letting him fall heavily to the ground. She then stood shoulder to shoulder with her twin brother, facing downhill.
Below them, their companion stood at the center of a storm of dust and debris.
Encircled by swirling dust, his elegant face seemed otherworldly. The sight drew onlookers into a trance-like state, like gazing endlessly at the radiant streaks of light in the frozen skies of the North Sea.
Bukgung Lin spoke slowly, her voice tinged with unease. “I sense something... blood-colored figures. They’re climbing up from below, like a pack of feral wolves.”
“There’s more than a handful,” Bukgung Hu replied with a nod. “Some with crimson hues, others black.”
Hearing this, Jang Sun-il swallowed audibly.
“Blood fiends... and blood cult swordsmen...”
“So they’re infamous even in Zhongyuan,” Bukgung Lin said, her brow furrowing as she gazed downhill.
“Indeed. A few among them are incredibly strong, and they drain human blood to strengthen themselves. But right now, that Nangwang down there is the real problem,” Jang Sun-il said, his voice trembling.
Bukgung Lin’s gaze stayed fixed on the scene below. “He’s unharmed... completely untouched by the shockwaves. They call him the King of Vagabonds, and his reputation seems well-earned. His skills rival the greatest warriors of our Frozen Lands. He’s practically superhuman.”
“Our companion’s age...” Bukgung Hu began, but trailed off.
“You’re all so noisy. If you keep yammering, I’ll snap your necks.”
A smooth voice rang out from behind them.
Startled, the group turned sharply to see a woman sitting casually on the large stump of a tree.
She wore a black eyepatch over her left eye, and a crimson robe draped over her shoulders as if it had been soaked in blood.
Her pale skin was striking—so white it rivaled even the noblest warriors of the Frozen Lands who had mastered ice-based techniques.
It was a peculiar, almost ghostly pallor, as if she were a spirit born from the light refracted off the eternal snow atop the peaks.
Her hair, dark as ebony, shimmered faintly with streaks of red. Every time the sunlight wavered over her, her presence shifted, exuding an aura of malevolence.
She was an embodiment of something sinister.
Even with her other eye closed, her mere presence was unnervingly oppressive.
Jang Sun-il instinctively stepped back, a chill running down his spine. It was as if a voice buried deep in his subconscious was sharpening his perception of danger.
“She’s... she’s a noble of the Bloodflame Cult!”
He whispered this as if squeezing the words out of his throat.
But no one paid him any mind.
The Bukgung twins, suppressing their own fear in front of the bloodstained noblewoman, remained focused on the battle unfolding below. As for the high-ranking master of the Bloodflame Cult, she seemed uninterested in the twins entirely, as if she were attuned to something far beyond their comprehension.
She barely moved, her lips curling into a faint, eerie smile.
Jang Sun-il, watching her, could only think she was utterly deranged. Even among the eccentric martial arts masters, she was incomprehensibly alien.
It was as though her very existence diverged from the normal trajectory of life itself.
Below, Jeong Yeon-shin stood amidst the ruins of the mountain path.
He raised his Northern Bright Sword to block the dual blades of Nangwang Geum Si-hu. The clash sent a resonant cry through the air, and a surge of inner energy escaped Geum Si-hu’s mouth in the form of a powerful shout.
“Hah!”
Another heavy tremor echoed. Sparks flew from the Northern Bright Sword as it clashed with Geum Si-hu’s twin sabers.
Shards of sharp energy sprayed outward, ripping apart the dirt and scattering debris.
To bear the title of “King” in the martial world was no trivial matter. It was a nickname earned over decades of recognition and fear, a mark of unmatched power.
The force of Nangwang’s attacks was honed like blade energy. Even the aftermath of a single strike from his twin sabers carried the impact of a life-ending technique.
A scar formed on the edge of Geum Si-hu’s cheek as he pressed against the resistance of the Northern Bright Sword. His smile was one of sheer confidence—a grin born of countless life-or-death battles.
At such close quarters, with their breaths mingling and their gazes locked, his pupils gleamed with an icy light.
“I didn’t think you’d actually drag me down. Remarkable technique, and quite the audacious spirit. I almost lost my footing.”
“Did you truly take up a commission from the Bloodflame Cult?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked quietly.
Geum Si-hu raised an eyebrow. “They spoke of a great deal of salt and provisions. Why wouldn’t I accept? They claimed spilling the blood of a few ignorant peasants and martial artists would turn my killing blades into tools of sustenance. And it’s not as if any government agency has ever fed me.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice dropped, firm and cold. “Your blades will find sustenance here. You will die today.”
His lips closed into a thin line.
The talk of provisions was nothing more than a convenient excuse. Any governmental office could afford to supply a swordsman of this caliber, but Nangwang had chosen the freedom of a vagabond’s path—a life of bloodshed and survival.
For Jeong Yeon-shin, as a lord of Ipwang Fortress, the course of action was clear: annihilation.
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His grip tightened on the Northern Bright Sword, filling the blade with the radiant energy of his Luminous Method Wheel Qi.
The stalemate broke.
The crossing of Geum Si-hu’s twin sabers faltered as they were forced back. The sword energy from the Luminous Method Wheel Qi surged with a purity that far surpassed the chaotic inner energy of ordinary masters.
“You bastard!”
Geum Si-hu bellowed.
His twin sabers dropped low as he sank into a horse-riding stance, leaning his upper body backward. Just before the Northern Bright Sword could split his head in two, a fierce gust erupted from beneath him.
Geum Si-hu’s right foot shot upward, delivering a sharp upward kick. The surge of energy coalescing at the tip of his leather boot was razor-sharp, enough to send chills down one’s spine.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s piercing blue eyes flashed.
Boom!
Jeong Yeon-shin slammed his foot down on the man’s knee. He had already anticipated the move using the Si-Cheon Method to read the flow of combat.
Before the sharp surprise could fully manifest in Nangwang’s eyes, Jeong Yeon-shin reversed his grip on the Northern Bright Sword and drove it down toward his opponent's abdomen.
His movements were akin to an art form. The sword traced a circle in the air, its blade radiating an ethereal glow as the Sword Thunder Cliffs Formation unleashed a faint yet cutting wind.
Kwahhh!
The blade pierced into the stone floor, shattering it on impact.
‘Narye-tagon.’
Jeong Yeon-shin’s sapphire eyes followed Geum Si-hu, who had rolled across the ground, creating a swirling cloud of dust in his wake.
His movements were devoid of pride, a display of sheer pragmatism. But when executed by a supreme master like Geum Si-hu, the Narye-tagon seemed like a mischievous game orchestrated by the gods of the earth.
“Your blade is ferocious,” the King of Vagabonds said, rising to his feet with a grin.
By the time the words left his mouth, Jeong Yeon-shin was already in his face, bringing his sword down with blinding speed.
The backlash from the Wind God’s Steps whipped his robes into a frenzy as the slash left a brilliant white arc in the air, etched into Geum Si-hu’s gaze.
Zzeoong!
The clash reverberated like a thunderclap. Once again, Geum Si-hu crossed his twin sabers to block the blow.
The compressed air surrounding the Northern Bright Sword buckled under the strain, sending shockwaves through the ground like a silken explosion.
In that moment, Geum Si-hu vanished.
He reappeared behind Jeong Yeon-shin as though he were a phantom.
The Nacha Steps, a secret technique of the Vagabond King, displayed a speed and adaptability far beyond the norm. This was the level of mastery Geum Si-hu had attained through the perfection of Three Harmonious Truths.
“My speed will surpass yours.”
He delivered his taunt with the precision of a blade, taking advantage of the momentary gap to strike.
The twin sabers sliced toward Jeong Yeon-shin’s back like scissors, perfectly aligned with the rhythm of his breathing and inner energy. The attack carried the mark of a true master.
Jeong Yeon-shin shifted his upper body slightly and swung his left palm backward.
Kwaaaaang!
A thunderous force erupted like a lightning strike. The faint shadows left by the sabers’ trajectory disintegrated without a trace.
The sudden whirlwind lifted Geum Si-hu’s crimson robes and sent blood-tinged saliva scattering into the air.
The overwhelming vibrations spread upward from the ground, shaking the battlefield violently. One of the twin sabers slipped from Geum Si-hu’s grasp and fell, spinning, into the void.
His left hand now empty, Geum Si-hu’s face betrayed a flicker of shock. He seemed to be silently asking, How could his energy move faster than mine?
Jeong Yeon-shin remained expressionless as he muttered in reply, “Ridiculous.”
Tap.
As he turned, Jeong Yeon-shin’s figure blurred, the brilliance of the Luminous Wheel Qi radiating from his body. The moment the energy coiled within him began to accelerate, his movements took on the swiftness of a lightning strike.
On his second step, the Wind God’s Steps carried him forward like a storm.
Fwaaahhh!
The sheer force of the wind rushing past felt unbearably heavy. In an instant, Jeong Yeon-shin’s left hand was gripping Geum Si-hu’s face.
In a low voice, he uttered his sentence.
“Die.”
The latent energy of the Revolving Might erupted from his hand.
The instant his inner energy and the subtle movements of his fingers aligned, a cyclone of destructive force exploded in his grasp.
Kwahhhhh!
The shockwave from the strike distorted the surrounding airflow, scattering dust and fragments of stone in every direction.
Geum Si-hu’s decapitated body was swept away by the violent storm, tumbling down the mountainside.
Even the animals of the mountain held their breaths as the battle between gods played out before them.
Jeong Yeon-shin calmly brushed his hand off, the lingering flames of Samadhi True Fire burning away the traces of blood. The smoke dissipated alongside the torn hem of his black robes, a quiet farewell to the once-feared king of vagabonds.
He did not look back, standing in silence for a moment as his tattered cloak swayed in the cold mountain air. His gaze lingered on the snowy expanse of the distant peaks before he finally spoke.
“You must be Ye.”
“I don’t use Ye as my surname. I’m Chi,” came the reply.
The Seven Killers had approached silently, her expression unreadable as she answered.
A faint smile tugged at Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips.
“Of course, you wouldn’t tell the truth so easily.”
“Hm? But I’ve always been honest,” she said, widening her lone red eye in mock innocence.
Only then did Jeong Yeon-shin turn to face her.
“What is it you want from me?”
The martial arts of her kind, rooted in madness and desire, were as unpredictable as they were dangerous. He had asked seriously, expecting her answer to take time.
It didn’t.
The ruby-red light of her eye caught the sun as she replied, her voice unwavering.
“I want you to die in my embrace. I want the final voice you hear as the incarnation of martial arts to be mine. Let me be clear: your life has been nothing short of dazzling, and I revere you.”
“I’d almost forgotten—speaking with you makes insanity feel mundane.”
“For someone so weary, you’ve said quite a lot. It’s exhilarating, almost like I’ve gone back to the time I achieved Three Harmonious Truths.”
“That’s enough.”
Jeong Yeon-shin knew exactly what he felt in that moment. It had been a long time since he’d felt it.
It was the same emotion he’d experienced as a child when the children of Shin Ya-hyeon excluded him from their games. He’d watched from the shadows as they flew kites or performed shadow plays, trying to mimic their movements in secret.
What must it feel like? It must be nice.
He suppressed the envy bubbling within him.
From now on, he thought, he would call this feeling Sluggish Harmonious Truths.