At the very moment the battle that would determine the future of Shanxi’s martial world began—
High above in the sky.
The pale blue moonlight wrapped softly around the figure of a woman standing atop a single sword.
Baek Seo-goon stood balanced on the blade, gazing downward.
The deafening roar of the winds howled in her ears, yet she did not blink even once.
From outside the formation of reinforced sorcery conjured by the Zhuge Clan Leader, she observed the battle. Her eyes, tracking the clashes of some of the world’s most formidable warriors, never ceased their minute movements.
Kugoong! Kuung!
Shockwaves surged beyond the boundary of the formation’s barrier, subtly shaking even the sword beneath her feet.
"Reincarnation of the Hidden Dragon."
The Zhuge Clan Leader’s martial prowess was truly overwhelming.
Perhaps it was because he had accumulated immense knowledge and cultivation while receiving full support from Yeoryeong and the Blade Specters.
With no Sword Sage restraining him, he had spent an extended period establishing the magical battle formation, pushing himself right beneath the Sword Sage’s chin. And now—
Now, he might even stand on equal ground with the Lord of Simmu-ryeon.
Since the formation of the Murim Alliance, there had been much talk in the upper echelons of the martial world.
A member of the Zhuge Family—where an astronomical fortune was required to achieve completion as a martial artist—was gathering the resources of the martial world under the guise of his own ambitions.
And indeed, in later years, the flow of massive funds directed toward the Murim Alliance had mysteriously faded from record.
However, the rallying cry to overthrow Ipwang Fortress had been at its peak, and thus, the Zhuge Clan Leader had secured a path to complete his martial arts even after leaving the alliance.
His position as the Grand Commander of the Murim Alliance, along with his collusion with two factions of the Thirteen Heavens, had led to this result.
"Zhuge’s Secret Art, Treasure Blossom Divine Technique."
Masters of sorcery-based martial arts were typically incapable of fully unleashing their power.
Even conjuring a single fireball required delicate internal energy manipulation and incantations, leaving them vulnerable to swift swordsmen who could decapitate them before they finished casting.
For this reason, the Zhuge Clan Leader had always been considered the weakest among the Eight Clan Leaders in direct combat.
But if an absolute master of sorcery had the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» chance to establish his domain completely—
If this was Zhuge’s Clan Leader, renowned as a supreme expert even in an unprepared state—
Clang! Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwaang—!
The battle unfolding beneath that barrier would shape the future of the martial world.
No matter how long the supreme experts of this world continued to grow in strength, the Zhuge Clan Leader’s explosive increase in power had surpassed the boundaries of conventional wisdom—at least, it was still within the realm of comprehension.
Unlike the enigmatic growth of the Blade Specters’ master.
Carrier pigeons had already taken flight from the Gongya Family in all directions, their wings carrying messages that would soon alter the stance of every martial sect.
"But..."
Baek Seo-goon’s narrowed eyes shifted sideways.
Far below.
Something—or rather, someone—lurking at the edge of the barrier unsettled her.
Long black hair flowed down like ebony silk, draping over a crimson robe. Her pale white skin was unnaturally bright, not merely due to the moonlight.
Her unwavering gaze pierced into the sorcery formation as if she were about to tear through it. The near-manic obsession in her eyes was palpable.
She was utterly insidious.
That predatory gaze fixated hungrily on Seomye.
A pureblood noble of the Bloodflame Cult, revered by the blood demons for her lineage.
"She now acts as the tyrant of her own clan."
The Bloodflame Cult’s Shanxi branch had met its end at her hands. A being of extreme danger.
According to Simmu-ryeon’s informants, she had inherited the Bloodflame Cult Leader’s legacy, becoming the next head of the cult.
She had also been the one responsible for kidnapping Jeong Yeon-shin and dragging him to the heart of the Bloodflame Cult.
Thanks to reports from her subordinates tracking Seomye’s movements, Baek Seo-goon had even managed to obtain a rare, detailed sketch of Chil Sado’s face.
An unseen blade was always the most dangerous. And for someone of her caliber, it was even more so.
If she were to join forces with the Zhuge Clan Leader, who was already backed by two factions of the Thirteen Heavens, Seomye’s survival would be in grave jeopardy.
The Sword Lord’s lips parted slightly.
"How dare you."
Like a lion’s roar, the sound reverberated through the night.
Fwaaaaaah!
The sword carrying Baek Seo-goon plummeted downward.
A faint sword aura trailed in her wake, mingling with the roaring winds. Her short gray hair was violently swept upward as her rapidly increasing speed made the ground rush up toward her.
At the same moment, Chil Sado, as if sensing something, suddenly spun around.
"What—?"
A sharp irritation colored her voice.
In the blink of an eye, a faint crimson light flickered beneath her feet. As if to avoid the descending strike from above, she slashed through the empty air and vanished into the distant void.
***
A sphere of darkness suddenly swallowed Ma Gwang-ik. It was the pinnacle of the Zhuge Clan’s secret art formation, the Tongcheon Yeongnakjin.
The battle revolved around that strange entity.
Ten colorless silk threads drifted in the air, aiming to sever Jeong Yeon-shin. Zhuge Gaju wielded them with deadly precision.
Opposing them were two black-clad warriors of Ipwang Fortress, guarding the youngest.
The gathered nobles, along with the onlookers, gradually failed to mask their growing unease.
Most of them were perched loftily on rooftops or walls, their clothes shimmering with high-quality silk. Yet, their expressions betrayed a deepening anxiety.
“We chose wisely. Consulting the Elder was the right decision.”
“Zhuge Gaju truly is the reincarnation of the Hidden Dragon. How could anyone defeat him?”
“This is an invincible display... The power balance of the martial world is shifting.”
“Clan Leader! I have sent the letter to the Beggars’ Sect branch.”
“Well done. You’ll be generously rewarded. This will lead us to even more valuable information in the future.”
The battle had already exceeded a hundred exchanges.
A clash that could shake the heavens and the earth raged on.
The battle for life and death was steadily converging toward a single conclusion.
Each time the ten strands of Zaung Divine Strands carved through the air in accordance with the principles of the Eight Trigrams, Ak Su-rim and Jin Myeong-jo countered in unison. They traced long trajectories through the air—one wielding Akgachang’s Jeolchop, the other executing the Flash Blood Claw Art (Seomhyeol Jobeop).
Each exchange tore the ground apart.
Kwaang!
Zhuge Gaju’s laughter echoed through the chaos.
[You insolent mongrels, how dare you treasure your juniors like this! Behave as the Imperial Hounds you were bred to be!]
A savage gale erupted from the shattered remnants of Jin Myeong-jo’s claw strike, mingling with her blood. A deep, resonant explosion followed.
Two strands of Zaung Divine Strands, which had closed in on the sphere’s flank, were violently repelled.
Jin Myeong-jo, her black sleeve draped loosely, trembled intermittently. The earlier piercing wound she had suffered had yet to fully heal.
She was nearing her limit. Her eyes blazed red, but that was all she could muster now.
“......”
[You glare as if dignity alone could carry you. But is that truly the face of warriors fighting as one?]
Zhuge Gaju brushed the Zaung Divine Strands from the hem of his white robe. The two repelled threads suddenly merged into one, their energy swelling exponentially before he swung them wide.
It was a fusion of spellcraft and sword mastery. The deafening sound of the air tearing apart rang out as the strike lunged toward the sphere encasing Jeong Yeon-shin.
Just as the sphere was about to be split in two, a small figure wielding a spear landed squarely in front of the attack.
Thunk—!
She had already anchored herself with a Jin’gak step from the very first motion. A faint vortex of force spiraled from her waist up to the tip of the spear.
It was a warrior’s supreme spear technique, a method that sent tremors rippling through the air. Akgachang’s General’s Roaring Thunder (Janggun Hore).
Not a single movement was wasted. In the span of a breath, the spear strike’s explosive force multiplied again and again.
The spear shaft bent like a beam of light before it lashed out against the silk threads with violent waves.
For a fleeting moment, Zhuge Gaju’s lips curled into a smooth smile.
Kwaaaaaang!
Gurgh—!
A girl, dressed in black robes with short black hair, coughed up blood. Both of her shoulders had been impaled by two strands of silk.
Among the ten strands of Zaung Divine Strands, only three remained intact as they whirled back toward Zhuge Gaju.
[There were thirty-six variations within your technique’s trajectory. It was enough to defend against all ten strands of Zaung Divine Strands.]
The voice of Six Harmonies Transmission Voice carried directly into Ak Su-rim’s ears.
[But the countermeasure to Akgachang’s spear art? The very first secret manual I created after you left the sect. Your spear strike does not escape the confines of my methods. How many times must you experience this? Frankly, I am most grateful for it.]
Thunk.
Ak Su-rim steadied herself with her spear, her breath ragged. A strike from an absolute master did not merely leave a piercing wound.
The Nei Family Heavy Hand Art imbued every attack. The internal shockwaves were still coursing through her body.
Jin Myeong-jo stood beside her, equally stunned. Tremors racked her frame.
Ak Su-rim’s lips twisted into a grimace.
“So that’s why Yelim and Seonryong seemed close... You really used the kids’ interactions to your advantage? Just how many of their duels did you spy on? You reek of filth. You’re the epitome of a bastard.”
[A supreme expert of the Eight Noble Families enters Ipwang Fortress, and you expect anyone to care about the honor of the martial world? If it weren’t you, but Myeolseom Daeju who came, the situation might have played out differently. Perhaps even Yeo Icheonju, along with your two juniors, could have made this a real contest.]
“So you have heard of the Black Triumvirate. And yet you couldn’t even plant a spy inside Ipwang Fortress.”
[Enough talk. Die now.]
It happened at that moment.
Behind Ak Su-rim.
A crack split across the surface of the black sphere.
Kugugung—
Light burst forth. A violent tremor hammered the ground beneath them. Brilliant rays scattered in all directions, blooming like a flower unfurling its petals.
As the sphere shattered into fragments, the crowd surrounding them erupted into a roar.
[Hmm?]
Zhuge Gaju’s puzzled voice carried across the battlefield.
The broken fragments of Zaung Divine Strands suddenly floated around him.
The silk threads, their energy restored, hung weightlessly in the air—an almost divine sight. Even the once-frantic crowd fell into an awed silence.
“It’s over.”
“Even if Ma Gwang-ik emerges now...”
“Ipwang Divine Spear is already in tatters. The Crimson Blood Demon as well.”
“It’s one-on-one now.”
“The youngest Black Rank versus Zhuge Gaju.”
“Let’s go. If we’re going to comply with Mooncastle Gate’s request... we should first reexamine the ledgers of the Sanha Trading Company.”
Step.
The noble swordsman, his blade lowered at his side, exuded an extraordinary presence.
A translucent lotus enveloped his entire body.
Beneath the moonlight, his flowing hair framed features so unreal they seemed to blur the lines of reality itself. His presence, his aura—it wasn’t something that belonged to this world. It felt as though he had stepped out of some ancient legend.
If it were merely about looks, he could be compared to Song-ok or Ban-ak, but the oppressive force that gnawed at the skin set him apart entirely.
The martial world thrived on exaggerated titles and glorified reputations.
“That lotus... and that elegance. It reminds me of a Dharma guardian. Perhaps even Prince Nezha. He doesn’t have three heads, but his aura, his presence...”
“A wasted life is about to fall.”
As murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd, some gasped in admiration.
And then, Zhuge Gaju let out a crystalline laugh.
[It would have been better if you had died back there. For your sake. Wouldn’t it be preferable to perish that way rather than be consumed by a powerlessness you’ve never known?]
“How are your injuries, Senior Ak, Senior Jin?”
The lotus surrounding Jeong Yeon-shin wavered briefly as he turned to check on his seniors. His senses remained razor-sharp, keeping Zhuge Gaju contained.
His gaze swept over their wounds, tinged with quiet sorrow. Jin Myeong-jo, eyes wide, did not answer, while Ak Su-rim scoffed with exaggerated dramatics.
“That’s enough to keep going.”
“Going where?”
“If the balance of the joint attack collapses, you’re supposed to run! Think about your age! This isn’t something to be ashamed of! We’ve lived long enough, killed enough! I have no regrets about crossing the Three Paths River.”
“How are your injuries, Senior Ak, Senior Jin?”
“You’re repeating yourself now?”
She let out a weak chuckle, her breath labored.
Swish.
Across from them, a sleeve as white as fresh snow billowed in the air. A quiet celebration, perhaps, marking the first step toward a long-sought ambition.
Hands clasped behind his back, Zhuge Gaju stood at ease, granting a moment’s reprieve in the midst of a battle to the death.
The two of them now faced each other.
A true one-on-one.
[You cannot escape. I will not let my top elimination target slip away, nor will your sluggish internal energy ever allow you to break free from the Zaung Divine Strands. Even with that peculiar power wrapped around you, the same holds true. You are but a child who has yet to achieve the unity of Jing-Qi-Shen.]
“Sluggish...?”
As Jeong Yeon-shin locked eyes with him, the stone tucked inside his robe stirred. A sensation beyond the martial arts of Eon Ga-jeil-gwon.
The moment Zhuge Gaju spoke, something within him surged—an uncontrollable rush of blood to his head. The pressure, heated by his own rising energy, pulsed through his Upper Dantian, flooding it with an unfamiliar sensation.
It was... strange.
A resonance, a synchronization akin to what had happened during his life-or-death battle with Gwon Mugong.
The world that Eon Hwayeon perceived. The five senses that Eon Ga-jeil-gwon had once possessed.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s talent had missed nothing.
—Your senses will remember me.
For an instant, he thought he heard her voice. A whisper, light as a breeze, yet it stirred an ancient question buried deep within his mind.
“...You don’t need to concern yourself with the state of my Jing-Qi-Shen.”
His lips parted slowly.
“Because I have no need for it.”
***
A vast expanse of moonlight draped over the clustered pavilions.
Even the towering citadel standing in the center of the grand grounds was shrouded in a faint twilight haze.
This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.
A pale, misty glow clung to the marble walls, casting shifting patterns, while the young maid standing inside the inner court looked visibly tense.
She clutched a book wrapped carefully in silk.
This can’t be real.
Three questions echoed in her mind over and over. Me? Truly? How could this be...?
—If it’s you, then at least a speck of dirt beneath your fingernails might be worthy of His Lordship’s favor. You were born with an unusually pure flow of innate qi. Minor mistakes won’t reach him. Only my ears will catch them. Do well.
The words of the youthful chamberlain had long since faded from her thoughts.
The touch of the oddly warm, snow-white hemp robe worn by Ipwang Fortress attendants felt strangely unfamiliar to her. Had it always been this rough?
She had no memory of how she ascended the spiraling staircase, coiled like the body of a dragon from legend. The cool, distinctive scent of marble brushed over her skin.
Krrrng—
By the time she regained awareness, she was standing before an enormous stone gate, watching as it swung open on its own.
Ah.
This is a dream.
It had to be.
Her vision blurred as though she were drifting through a lucid trance.
The moment the scent of fragrant grass touched her nose, the moment she glimpsed the silhouette of someone reclining lazily against a tree trunk, her consciousness sank into the depths of an illusion.
It was as if her mind had been washed away.
Like an ocean, the presence before her overwhelmed her senses, beyond what her mind could comprehend.
She had instinctively refused to fully recognize the towering figure before her—a being so exalted he might as well be a celestial deity.
Swish.
Moving as though entranced, she unwrapped the silk and took out the book she carried.
Step by step, she approached the celestial figure.
At the same time, she instinctively opened the book and began flipping through its pages. She vaguely recalled something about a specific section. His Lordship already knew the entire text by heart.
Rustle.
Before she realized it, she had settled beside the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.
And now, in his hands, she saw a tattered, ancient text—the original manuscript of the very book she had just opened.
Then, the two books floated into the air, both opening to the same passage.
A sight so mystical, yet in her trance, she simply breathed in sync with it, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
The words on the original manuscript entered her eyes.
It was written in an unpolished script, the strokes rough and uneven.
The ink bled inconsistently, sometimes bold and heavy, other times faint and fragile. It was unclear whether the writer had simply never seen refined calligraphy or if the one who had taught them had done so in passing.
And then—
The Lord of Ipwang Fortress raised his arm.
Swish.
His long, slender fingers brushed over a phrase: Crow Bridge.
Against the stark white of his skin, the inked characters stood in sharp contrast.
His fingers slowly traced down to the end of the passage.
[From here, extract the interpretations that best align with the mind’s resonance. The core principles are three: Fortune arises from the subtle, Qi and life must connect through acupoints, and the Grand Crow Bridge must be built within. The anatomical diagrams are unnecessary. You can feel it, so you’ll know. If I present the complete version with unnecessary additions to my elder brothers, I might receive a scolding.]
“Summon Ma Gaju.”
His luminous voice brushed against the maid’s ears like a whisper.
His pale fingers, having reached the end of the passage, traced their way back upward before once again grazing over the aged parchment.
He paid no heed to the slight tremor in the maid’s step as she rose in a daze.
[It is the Seventh Night Festival.
The Cowherd, who lived in the east among the distant stars, meets the Weaver Girl on the other side.
The village is lively. Both children and adults are laughing.
They say it’s a day for those who love each other. It seems foolish, yet oddly amusing.
They fly kites together, intentionally tangling the strings. It’s funny.
My eldest brother received a kite shaped like a hawk. They say he will fly it with the daughter of Kang, the merchant lord.
I had none.
I tried to make one, gathering sticks, but the head steward stopped me.
Father said that if the unclean energy that harmed Mother spreads further into the fields, it would be disastrous...
I suppose he’s right.]
[I must build the Crow Bridge within myself.
How sturdy must the bridge that spans the heavens be?
I thought of the Qi Sea Acupoint at my navel and the Life Gate Acupoint on my back.
Among the channels of internal energy, these two are the most effective.
What would happen if I connected them?
It seems unlikely I’d suffer a Qi Deviation.
It feels as though my internal organs will hold firm...
And my instincts have never been wrong.
That’s what makes it fun.
Perhaps I should carefully guide my energy past the abdominal arteries.
With Mother.]
[Qihai and Mingmen.
Even if they do not physically touch, if I overlap an internal energy bridge across the meridians in between, isn’t that the same as connecting them?
I tried it, and it worked.
I should weave it into the Small Circulation of Jeong Family’s Dynamic Gong (Jeong Ga-donggong).
Mother’s presence reaches even here.
If the mental imagery guiding the qi isn’t gentle, it could be dangerous.
On the other side of my Crow Bridge, she is there.
It’s warm.
I don’t need a kite.]
For a moment, the moonlight was steeped in silence.
But not for long.
“You may speak freely.”
A gentle, warm voice rustled through the leaves.
“Your life has already repaid its debts.”
Doom—
The book at the Lord of Ipwang Fortress’s fingertips pulsed faintly, leaving behind a blurred afterimage.
The will accumulated over countless years, passed down through the generations, had finally shaped the text into something beyond mere scripture—
A sacred relic imbued with divine intent.
TL note: Nezha is a mythological character from Chinese folklore, known as a young warrior god possessing incredible speed and combat skills.