Jang Sun-il, who led the group, trailed off as he spoke.
“This way... this is the right way... but the flow of the land’s energy is cut off. Strange. This shouldn’t be possible...”
He paced back and forth across the snow, the sunlight glinting white off the surface, his footsteps overlapping others in an almost circular fashion. As the transparent light along the ridge shimmered, a new group of martial artists emerged.
Each of them had a sword strapped to their waists, numbering no less than a hundred. Their presence was overwhelming.
The Bukgung twins stepped to either side of the boy.
The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.
The movements of the martial artists who had climbed Mount Taebaek ahead of them were peculiar. They had been wandering the vicinity long before Jeong Yeon-shin’s party had even reached the midpoint. Their expressions were far from ordinary as they scanned their surroundings, their demeanor unmistakably hostile.
“This doesn’t make sense. This is no ordinary situation.”
“Find the anchor. It must be somewhere.”
They muttered among themselves, gripping their sword hilts.
A series of dull noises rang out, accompanied by the sharp sound of blades being drawn. Swords were unsheathed and began slashing through undergrowth and chopping down trees. Their eyes darted around, scrutinizing everyone nearby.
They weren’t acting cautiously—they were certain there was an enemy to confront.
“Aren’t they masters from the Suwang Sect?”
“The Suwang Sect Leader! Even the Suwang Sect Leader is here!”
“Ha... Even the most prominent martial lineage in the Yan’an region... Judging by their numbers, they’ve brought their entire force. The Suwang Sect is supposed to be a noble sect...”
“Didn’t they say even the Thirteen Heavens and the Mount Hua Sect have descended? What’s the Suwang Sect compared to that?”
“To us, it’s significant. Look at their aura. They look ready to bury someone alive.”
The appearance of one of the most prominent sects in Shaanxi caused the surrounding martial artists to scatter. Anyone would, after seeing the Suwang Sect Leader cut down six ancient trees with a single swing of his sword.
“We should tread carefully.”
Bukgung Hu whispered into the ear of the guide, Jang Sun-il.
Jang looked puzzled.
“But... that person is dead, isn’t he? Is there really anything to worry about?”
He was referring to the Wandering King, Nangwang Geum Si-hu. It was a valid point. The spectacle of an unparalleled master of the martial world losing his life to Jeong Yeon-shin had been witnessed.
It was an event that would have shocked anyone, and among the martial artists nearby, it was hard to imagine anyone who could stand against Jeong Yeon-shin.
Jang Sun-il, emboldened by this, had been casually looking down on the surrounding martial artists.
Bukgung Hu shook his head.
“It’s your life that’s at stake. Can you even fathom how many wolves have gathered here? Didn’t they say the major factions of Zhongyuan have assembled nearby? There won’t be any trouble for your ally, but can you keep up with his impeccable movements?”
“Ah...”
“My brother is right. Stay close to us. Strong people attract other strong people. Staying near your ally might be even more dangerous.”
Bukgung Lin opened and closed her pale hand as she spoke.
Her use of the common Zhongyuan language had an indistinctness that made it hard to discern her gender. It was the same when she addressed Jeong Yeon-shin informally, which only enhanced the impression of a foreigner devoted to martial pursuits. Bukgung Hu was no different.
Even minor details about them caught the eye. Their blue-white hair, like clouds melting into the sky, was strikingly alien.
As many eyes turned toward Jeong Yeon-shin’s party, murmurs began to ripple through the area.
“If we can just get past this... Mount Taebaek is much larger than I thought.”
“Wait. Haven’t we been circling the same spot? It doesn’t make sense, no matter how dull someone’s senses might be. Unless... they’re pretending not to notice?”
“What?”
“All these martial artists haven’t been able to find their way yet. Something’s clearly wrong.”
“A formation... Is it a formation? Is that why they’re...!”
One martial artist after another began to realize something, their expressions shifting. They had fallen into some kind of trap.
The behavior of the Suwang Sect, who had climbed Mount Taebaek ahead of everyone, seemed strange to anyone watching. On closer inspection, it was clear they were searching for the anchor to break the formation.
The tense atmosphere spread everywhere.
Even a sect as prestigious as the Suwang Sect was behaving like this, leaving little room for doubt that a formation had been deployed. The fact that so many martial artists had failed to climb Mount Taebaek completely was itself highly unusual.
It could only be explained as the influence of a formation that disrupted spatial perception.
To deploy a formation of this magnitude as a part of martial arts sorcery would require immense effort. Unless it was someone like Zhuge Wuhu, the caster would have to continuously reinforce the formation. Those with even a shred of insight quickly recalled common knowledge.
There were enemies here who had laid the groundwork for mischief.
Throughout history, the martial world had always been plagued by those who lured people in with promises of treasures, elixirs, and martial manuals, only to exploit them for nefarious gains.
The martial artists on Mount Taebaek began scanning their surroundings. Their aimless hostility flowed with their auras, as faint snowflakes swirled in the air.
“So this is a sorcerous formation?”
“Who dares attempt this nonsense!”
“Show yourselves! Have you lost your wits?”
“What’s the meaning of this? What are you after?”
It was then.
“Martial friends, please direct your attention here!”
A grand voice echoed powerfully, drawing the gaze of everyone nearby. The sound was a lion’s roar, pulling attention toward it with overwhelming force.
As the powerful wave of internal energy spread outward, snow mounds beneath the bare branches fell to the ground. The aura’s reach was immense.
The murmurs ceased. The gazes of the masters turned toward the center of a snow-dusted hill.
“I, Wei Se-hyuk, have something to say.”
A deep voice rang out from a man with a large build. His features were striking, with a sleek and glossy face and piercing eyes.
Dressed in a plain blue robe without embroidery, he nonetheless exuded an aura as dignified as if he were wearing ceremonial attire. The atmosphere around him was enough to command such a presence.
Shhh—
The formless aura radiating from his body swept away the snow at his feet.
This was the man who had been smashing rocks that might serve as the anchors of the formation with his bare hands. The assembled martial artists fell silent.
“The Sect Leader of Suwang Sect, Wei Se-hyuk...”
Someone murmured quietly, almost to themselves.
“Beyond this point, just beyond here, lies the Thousand-Year He Shou Wu. A follower of the Bloodflame Cult shared this information, and it is certain. Surely, you all have the skills to deduce this.”
Wei Se-hyuk glanced around as he spoke, extending a hand to gesture behind him.
The lower edge of his blue sleeve fluttered in the snowstorm as he continued slowly.
“It is an unspoken rule that treasures of the earth belong to the first to claim them. As the leader of the Suwang Sect, I intended to uphold that tradition. I’ve simply been doing my best to provide for my disciples.”
His gaze, which had been sweeping over the crowd, briefly landed on a young man in a palanquin before shifting to Jeong Yeon-shin’s group. He examined the boy in the black robe standing silently.
Wei Se-hyuk’s thick eyebrows twitched slightly, forming a faint wrinkle at the corner of his eye.
“All those efforts were in vain. We found ourselves stuck in place. More and more martial artists were climbing the mountain. Truly, it was an eerie display. Few among the locals of Shaanxi would stoop to such a despicable act. The only renowned lineage of sorcery in this region would be the Zhuge Clan at the far end of Hanzhong, would it not?”
His words carried an iron-like strength, as if his character had been forged from steel.
A voice tempered by years of inner cultivation left a profound impression on the crowd. Even if his statements held flaws, his reputation as the leader of a great sect lent weight to his words, creating a lion’s roar-like oratory.
This was the martial world. The words of a renowned master naturally carried authority.
“Hm...”
The response was positive. Several people had already turned their attention to Jeong Yeon-shin’s group, their gazes drawn by Wei Se-hyuk’s imposing presence.
Wei Se-hyuk’s sharp, radiant gaze lingered.
“And yet, we see strangers among us. Look at their hair and features. They are outsiders here to plunder treasures born from Zhongyuan’s soil. The expressions of the boys traveling with them are far from ordinary. Therefore, as the Sect Leader, I propose questioning them directly...”
He paused, his lips parting slightly.
“I seek your permission, lest my actions unsettle you. I will not ask for your participation. However, given the treacherous terrain and the presence of dangerous sorcery, I intend to tread carefully...”
“The Sect Leader of Suwang Sect is right!”
“Their appearance is suspicious enough to warrant detaining them. They might disrupt the formation and cause great harm.”
Voices of agreement rose from all directions.
The hundreds of martial artists who had broken through the chaotic snowstorm at the foot of Mount Taebaek unleashed their combined aura.
Contrary to Wei Se-hyuk’s claim of not seeking their involvement, the response was highly proactive.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been silently listening, captured all their movements with his gaze.
The Si-cheon Technique.
The Eyes of Ma Gwang-ik
Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision had evolved beyond comparison to before. He could now perceive with such clarity that even areas outside his focal point seemed vivid, granting him an almost all-encompassing awareness.
He scrutinized the instigators, analyzing them down to the tiniest movements in their facial muscles. They were the ones who had immediately started speaking as soon as Wei Se-hyuk had finished.
The subtle contraction of their jaw muscles betrayed their intent, reacting as clearly to Jeong Yeon-shin as if someone were rolling their eyes right in front of him.
“They know who I am. It’s a trap.”
The martial artists around him shuffled backward hesitantly. A few, however, edged closer instead.
Most of these were individuals imbued with dark energy, a hallmark of unorthodox paths and forbidden techniques. They seemed to include remnants of the Bloodflame Cult, Blade Specters, and Yeoryeong’s faction—groups Jeong Yeon-shin had faced before.
The bald-headed ones could easily be identified as blood demons hiding their red hair.
“If anyone shows suspicious behavior, they will be dealt with immediately.”
Crunch.
Wei Se-hyuk, the leader of the Suwang Sect, began to approach with light steps. His feet left no trace on the snow-covered ground.
The other martial artists looked unnerved, retreating even further. His mastery of the Stepping on Snow Without Leaving a Trace technique demonstrated his level of cultivation.
“One wave has been handled easily.”
Far in the distance, Yeoryeong’s young lord sat tilted in a palanquin, propping their chin with one hand as they gazed at Jeong Yeon-shin with interest.
“The Wandering King was someone only the Bloodflame Cult could hope to restrain, so his loss was inevitable... But the second wave should still prove worthwhile. Besides, with the presence of the Thirteen Heavens’ leaders, Ma Gwang-ik isn’t revealing his status as the Ipwang Fortress’s great lord. That alone will make it easier to sweep up the rest of the martial artists.”
Their words closely mirrored the unfolding events.
The martial artists nearby were visibly shaken by the instigators’ comments. Their gazes toward Jeong Yeon-shin and his party grew increasingly hostile.
One by one, they began moving. To them, the remarkable boy was no more than a suspicious bat clinging to the wolves from beyond the border.
People naturally grew hostile toward the unknown.
Yeoryeong’s young lord smiled faintly, their noble features exuding an air of refinement. Their lips moved slowly, forming a subtle question.
“Do you think you can handle Ma Gwang-ik alone, Master So?”
“The one who killed the top martial artist of Shaanxi single-handedly? I doubt it.”
The swordsman clad in black, standing beside the palanquin, responded calmly.
She continued to watch Ma Gwang-ik, who was now face-to-face with the Suwang Sect Leader, gently running her fingers along the hilt of her sword.
“Your internal cultivation leans toward orthodoxy, so you should hold your ground for a while.”
“You’re already assuming the Suwang Sect Leader will lose?”
“Of course. Even if I do admire Ma Gwang-ik, he is still my mortal enemy. It’s only natural to analyze the raw skill of one’s opponent... in both Go and life.”
Then, it happened.
From a distance.
Jeong Yeon-shin placed a hand on the fabric draped over his shoulder.
At that moment, Yeoryeong’s young lord’s eyes widened slightly, and Wei Se-hyuk’s steps faltered.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.
“From what safety do you weave your schemes...?”
His voice, deep and resonant from the onset of puberty, echoed softly, yet it carried clearly through the air. At the same time, his hand moved without hesitation.
With a ripping sound, the fabric wrapped around his arm tore away.
Under the bright winter sun, it gleamed with a golden radiance.
荒.
The character for "wild" was revealed, embroidered into the fabric. The martial artists gathered on Mount Taebaek witnessed the sight.
And then, no one knew exactly when it had happened.
Thunk!
Jeong Yeon-shin drove a pure white sword into the snow-covered ground. The blade shimmered with an ethereal light that coursed from its snowy surface to its hilt, radiating with an inexplicable brilliance.
This wasn’t mere reflected sunlight. Anyone could feel it—a sacred, auspicious energy began to ripple and mingle with the winter wind.
Divine Aura.
Uuuung—
It spread, its presence almost holy. Even without being versed in martial techniques, one could tell at a glance that it was devoid of malevolence. The mystical energy, like sunlight streaming through a temple, spread through the air.
“...”
In an instant, the surrounding commotion froze. Everyone fell silent, each with a different expression. Even Jang Sun-il and the Bukgung twins, standing in the rear, were no exception.
In that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin pondered.
What would the Divine Hero of Ipwang have done? What kind of ploy would the scoundrel of the Hwangbo Clan use to gain the upper hand?
Slowly, he parted his lips.
“I am Jeong Yeon-shin, the Great Lord of Ma Gwang-ik.”
Then, he raised his left hand, pointing toward the handsome man seated in the palanquin.
“That man is using sorcery. He’s utterly vile.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s sharp gaze flashed with azure light.
And then.
The surroundings erupted into chaos.