The blade of Mount Hua’s sect leader swept through the mountain ridge, igniting twilight.
The sudden surge of the crimson sunset silenced everything, as if compelled by the harmony of the sword strike, which moved faster than sound.
The faint red glow rose, tracing the trajectory of the violet slash. In the next moment, the air of Mount Taebaek quivered violently, as if sucked into the blade’s wake.
The snow blanketing the ridges dissolved like a dream. And then came the eruption.
Boom!
A gale swept across the ridge, accompanied by snow scattering in all directions. The exposed undergrowth and tree branches revealed their rusted winter hues.
Jeong Yeon-shin kept his eyes wide open, staring ahead. Even calling it sublime seemed inadequate. This was transcendence embodied in a sword strike.
"A realm where one can discuss the world with the purity of violet essence..."
It felt as if his Baihui Point at the crown of his head had expanded infinitely. When would he ever reach that level? He hadn’t even begun to grasp half the hundreds of transformations contained within a single strike.
The straight sword strike carried an inescapable profundity. It was as if it were meant to embody the pinnacle of martial arts.
The Purple Radiance Divine Art and the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique.
The display of an ancient master left no room for interpretation by lesser beings.
It was on a completely different level from Jeong Yeon-shin’s usual insights into the state of others’ bodies and their energy flows.
"This is what the fruits of training look like," he thought.
Time itself had accumulated on a level far beyond Jeong Yeon-shin’s perceptive abilities.
A sect leader of the Nine Schools wouldn’t be dull. Once, he had contemplated the martial prowess of Hahoe Wi-jin, Lord of Tianlin Fortress, for an entire year. Now, such musings were meaningless.
The depth of technique and internal energy were incomprehensible. Perhaps by the time he turned nineteen, he might barely be able to withstand it.
Jeong silently imprinted the twilight sword strike in his memory. It reflected the Daoist principle of Shuncheon—following the natural order.
“You didn’t savor the feel of that strike, did you?”
Beside him, Yulha Nangnang flicked her sword clean, the hem of her coat stirring the air with a bold sound.
She had unleashed a sword strike capable of leaving even seasoned masters stunned, yet it seemed devoid of recoil. The moniker Flame Sword Divinity suited her perfectly.
This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.
"It’s coming."
Jeong Yeon-shin heard footsteps.
A heavy resonance grew louder as it approached. Amid the vanishing presence of mountain beasts, the crunch of withered leaves and branches underfoot grew unnervingly distinct.
The slow, deliberate steps were uncanny, like the harbinger of a concentrated storm.
Soon, a massive shadow emerged.
At the moment a head came into view, the entire figure crested the hill.
Step. Step.
The stride matched the enormity of the figure, each step long and deliberate, with the sunlight behind the ridge casting it in shadow.
Though it appeared human, its presence felt more like an impending natural disaster. The oppressive aura seemed capable of physically displacing the air.
The pulsating energy was still surreal.
Transcending martial skill, the unwavering breaths emanated a sense of unshakable serenity. It was as if this person was treading a predestined path, embodying the core of the world.
A massive greatsword hung low at his side.
Could it be that he had blocked Yulha Nangnang’s strike directly? White steam wafted from the blade, likely a remnant of the sword clash.
Jeong Yeon-shin sharpened his focus on the figure.
"The Master of Blade Specters."
He was different from when Jeong had seen him at Jeong Manor or at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain.
At those times, Jeong couldn’t properly perceive him—not even his facial features. The disparity in their levels of power had obscured everything.
There had always been a chasm between a new White Rank member of Ipwang Fortress and one of the absolute top warriors in the martial world. Back when he was the embarrassment of Jeong Manor, the gap had been even more insurmountable.
But now, things had changed. His body was filled with the Radiant Wheel Technique.
Only those who breathed divine techniques could stand qualified to behold the sect leader of Daebang Sect.
“Flame.”
The voice was deep and resonant, as though echoing from a cavern. The sparse words calling out to the Mount Hua sect leader carried a quiet gravity.
He was said to be the mixed-blood royal prince of the fallen Dali Kingdom. His imposing form beneath the yellow robe exuded an air of extraordinary power.
The physique of a seasoned swordsman, hardened like steel, was evident. There wasn’t a trace of excess flesh, and his chiseled jawline was a testament to perfection.
His aquiline nose and piercing, colorless eyes were strikingly handsome.
"So that’s how he forged his body."
The face of an enemy.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t blink.
There stood the fiend who had shattered his mother’s homeland, slaughtered her partner, and massacred the loyal servants she cherished. The difference in their levels was overwhelming.
“They say you’ve been rampaging like a fish out of water. Your swordsmanship has deepened. A frightening aura indeed.”
Yulha Nangnang spoke nonchalantly, stepping forward.
Swish.
The ground seemed to contract as she advanced ten paces before halting.
No response came. The Master of Blade Specters only observed her with a faintly melancholic gaze.
Mount Hua’s sect leader and the Master of Blade Specters stood face to face.
Such a meeting was exceedingly rare.
If this became widely known, the martial world would tremble. Taking their eyes off each other for even a moment could lead to one of their heads rolling.
It was said that in decisive duels, masters often determined life and death in an instant.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly spoke.
“Master of Blade Specters.”
“...Child.”
The response came. The Master of Blade Specters answered without even glancing at Jeong.
Jeong didn’t care.
“At Jeong Manor, there was someone who raised me. I called him Uncle So. I wonder if he’s anything like your Ghostly White Sword.”
“...”
“I heard he was just a caretaker. I hope he wasn’t your right arm. He should’ve at least been your heart.”
His voice was level and devoid of emotion.
The remnants of bitterness from Jeong Manor’s annihilation rose in him. The emotions were too much for the boy who had once envied swings on a spring festival day.
Humm.
The breath in his upper Dantian exhaled again. A vivid blue sensation rose like a wall, clearing unnecessary thoughts.
He willingly chose to do so. He locked away the emotions his comrades at Ipwang Fortress had worked so hard to mend.
“You’ve grown well, Ipwang Fortress’s Seomye.”
The Master of Blade Specters spoke.
His expression was blank, and he still didn’t look at Jeong.
“What?”
“Your potential is clear. Though you are a vessel destined to break if killed, I will answer any challenge. Come seek vengeance.”
Jeong’s gaze turned cold.
“What nonsense are you spewing?”
“You grow even without nourishment, surpassing the Heavenly Trees themselves. I had intended to console your caretaker’s soul, but...”
The Master of Blade Specters continued slowly.
“That won’t be necessary.”
A brief silence followed.
The sound of snowflakes falling from the sky became distinctly audible.
"Why did he spare you, knowing you’d only grow stronger? Could he have been moved by a child’s spirit? Ridiculous."
The words of Baek Seo-goon, the Youngcheon Sword Demon, flickered in Jeong’s mind.
"Your entry into Ipwang Fortress would not have been entirely welcome to its master. The Master of Blade Specters is as cunning as a wise old bear."
At that moment.
“Does Mount Hua Sect have no sense of propriety? To strike without warning, even if it is our sect leader you fear, is beyond excuse.”
The voice that had previously shouted for others to welcome the Master of Blade Specters returned, brazenly criticizing the Flame Sword Divinity’s actions.
Crunch.
Suddenly, a young man appeared one step behind the Master of Blade Specters.
A large traveling pack was slung carelessly over his shoulder, suggesting he served as the sect leader’s attendant.
His sharp eyes resembled a sword, and his body, like all Blade Specters’ warriors, was impeccably honed.
The energy emanating from him was abnormally powerful for his age. A resplendent blade was sheathed at his waist, tied to his weathered blue combat uniform.
“Barely survived,” he muttered.
The young man, who had been mumbling to himself, suddenly turned his sharp gaze toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
“You must be Seomye. I missed you back at Zhongnan; I was in seclusion for training. I should’ve taken your head back then. And now you’re Ipwang Fortress’s Black Rank? I’ve been listening, and it’s absurd. Mu-hyeok and the old man Na Chal-geom must be laughing in the afterlife.”
“Who are they?” Jeong asked flatly.
“...It doesn’t matter. Considering someone like you ended them, perhaps it’s for the best. Though I had no idea Ma Gwang-ik would be Gwangye Chae-ju. Not until Lady Ye’s little bird informed me.”
The young man’s eyes, filled with the keen glint of internal energy manipulation, swept over Jeong from head to toe. His lips curled into a slight smirk.
“Your body’s in shambles, isn’t it? The energy flow is a mess, teetering on the edge of qi deviation. Well, it’s no wonder. You took down the Elder of the Ghostly White Sword and the First Demon of Shaanxi. It’s not just your body that’s strange; your feats are unnatural. What are you? The reincarnation of Zhang Sanfeng or one of the Ming Sect’s founding patriarchs? All I know is this: you’re someone I absolutely must kill.”
“You talk too much,” Jeong replied casually.
His eyes never left the Master of Blade Specters, who was facing Yulha Nangnang.
Rumble. Crackle.
Between the two titans, invisible bolts of lightning flickered and danced. The battle had already begun. It was the clash of intent between those who had surpassed Three Flowers Converging at the Crown, their thoughts and energies intertwining in a deadly contest.
Even though no strikes had been exchanged, the sheer force of their qi ripped through the ground like a whip, lashing against Jeong’s skin.
“That’s Gi Dohyu, my master’s direct disciple.”
Jeong finally turned his head at the self-introduction. As the Master of Blade Specters’ apprentice, Gi Dohyu was someone worth evaluating.
He grinned.
“What’s the point of facing my master in your condition? You’re just being reckless. I’ve heard you’re usually cautious, but it seems the sight of an enemy has clouded your judgment.”
Boom!
Suddenly, thunder roared. The blades of absolute masters collided, creating a shockwave that struck the eardrums and conjured a faint whirlwind.
Withered leaves and branches scattered like they’d been swept up by a thousand petals in a steel storm.
The pinnacle of the Blade Specter and Plum Blossom Swordsmanship met.
Boom!
A massive vortex surrounded the Master of Blade Specters and Yulha Nangnang. The domain of the supreme masters had taken form.
With blood still staining his upper body, Jeong Yeon-shin stood no chance of entering that space. His nerves were still tingling from the dispersing energy of the Thunderous Core.
“Isn’t it hard to even move a single muscle? Your energy isn’t circulating properly, is it?” Gi Dohyu asked, laughing as he took a step forward.
Jeong didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. It was true.
Crunch.
As Gi Dohyu approached, his height seemed to grow, and even the brittle grass beneath him refused to bend. This wasn’t mere footwork; it was an extraordinary level of mastery.
“I’ve heard the Ma Gwang-ik Lord Seomye has rarely faced hardship. Aren’t you Ipwang Fortress’s golden child?” he continued.
“Do you now realize how terrifying the coordination of the Thirteen Heavens can be? Even those who are naturally divided have united under the banner of Ipwang Fortress’s destruction. Doesn’t that frighten you? Even today’s events are extraordinary. Leaving aside the Blood Flame Cult at the foot of the mountain... you’ve had the Wandering King, the Suwang Sect Lord, and a former chief protector of Lady Ye herself visit.”
“They died in about three moves.”
“....”
Gi Dohyu fell silent.
Then, he casually tossed his travel pack to the side.
Thud.
The weight of the bag sent a heavy tremor through the ground. Gi Dohyu’s height seemed to increase even further as he expanded his stance.
“It’s not every day someone gets the chance to fight Ma Gwang-ik Lord in such a weakened state.”
Step by step, he drew closer. And he kept talking.
“My master was right. You’re nothing but a vessel doomed to shatter. Let’s see if your Radiant Wheel Technique can compare to the Five Grand Laws of the martial world. True mastery is revealed in times of crisis.”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t respond.
He simply stood there, silently watching Gi Dohyu. Finally, he opened his mouth.
“You’re in the way.”
“You must have heard of this: my sect’s Wigeom Gunlim Palm. I haven’t perfected it yet, though.”
Both spoke only what they wanted. Perhaps it was pride. Neither of the young masters yielded as the distance between them shrank to a single stride.
Rumble.
Jeong raised an eyebrow as Gi Dohyu’s palm advanced with a deep, resounding vibration.
Rather than risk a technical battle, Gi Dohyu aimed to exploit Jeong’s current state, pushing him closer to a complete qi deviation.
—You can dodge if you want.
Gi Dohyu’s sly smile accompanied the remark.
At the same time, his palm struck Jeong’s chest. The bloodstained fabric of Jeong’s clothes absorbed the impact, and concentric ripples spread outward in a hazy wave.
It was the secret art of Internal Weight Amplification. The weight Gi Dohyu applied through his grip was crushing.
Whoosh.
The strike landed perfectly. It seemed fatal—possibly even lethal.
“Ha...!”
A glimmer of ecstasy appeared in Gi Dohyu’s eyes. He had struck down Ipwang Fortress’s Seomye.
His master had permitted him to kill Jeong Yeon-shin. The current Ma Gwang-ik Lord was also an enemy of the Blade Specters.
How many masters had fallen prey to him? He was prey fattened with a towering reputation.
With strength coursing through his arm, Gi Dohyu tilted his head slightly to look at Jeong’s face. He had to see what expression the prodigy was wearing now.
Simultaneously—
Jeong Yeon-shin was gone. His form had vanished entirely, as if he had never been there.
All Gi Dohyu saw was a leather shoe. The weight pressing down on his arm had come from that.
When he looked up, his vision filled with black robes. His gaze continued upward until he saw the sharp line of a jaw.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood on Gi Dohyu’s outstretched hand, hands clasped behind his back, exuding a detached air of composure.
In Jeong’s blue eyes, the figures of the Master of Blade Specters and Yulha Nangnang were reflected.
Gi Dohyu’s lips trembled. Jeong’s foot and his own head were far too close for comfort.
“What... what just happened?”
“Simgeom Heocheo.” (The Void Step of the Mind Sword.)
Jeong replied without looking down at him.