“Huff—”
The village gatekeeper gasped belatedly.
Through his fading vision, he saw the figure of an otherworldly young man, wreathed in a faint, smoke-like aura.
It was an impossible sight for any martial artist to comprehend.
The Guardian Qi Barrier was an inner power technique, inseparable from a martial artist’s body—it wasn’t sothing as simple as a piece of clothing.
Even the one who cast it would struggle to impose it on another. The idea of having it forcibly stripped away was so unthinkable that no one even considered the possibility.
Unless one was born with an innate ability to perceive the flow of internal energy with absolute precision and wield an incomprehensible level of inner power control—
“You… who are you?”
A man of the highest standing even within the mighty Golden Western Gate.
It was only natural that the wielder of the Dragon Spirit Divine Fist would be stunned.
From the very first move, his technique had been disrupted. He should have imdiately launched into his second strike, yet he hesitated, montarily frozen in place.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer. Instead, he furrowed his brow slightly.
The ethereal, smoke-like energy enveloping his entire body—the tattered remnants of the Guardian Qi Barrier, now barely holding together. He was patching it up with his own energy, weaving it back together like cloth.
It was a crucial process.
By doing this, he was analyzing the flaws of an inferior-tier Guardian Qi Barrier.
Rather than absorbing impacts, its structure was designed to amplify the force of incoming attacks. While the outer layer remained fairly rigid, the internal energy within the barrier moved erratically, ceaselessly shifting.
‘Unruly. Constantly writhing.’
Wanyang’s inner power was bizarre. They said he had mastered the Dragon-Slaying Arts—his energy itself had an inherently dispersive nature.
Unlike the Tang siblings’ internal cultivation, which operated as if it were naturally adapted to this mystical environnt, Wanyang’s energy seed boundless, continuously seeking expansion.
‘Either way, I won’t be using this again.’
Jeong Yeon-shin concluded.
The technique of stripping an opponent’s Guardian Qi Barrier and wearing it himself.
If he attempted this in a battle between supre martial artists, where Moonlight Dance techniques ran rampant, he would likely be struck down instantly by a counterattack.
Unless his opponent was an absolute fool, it was unlikely he’d ever pull it off again.
“What kind of monstrous trick… How could this…?!”
Wanyang’s eyes trembled slightly as he stared at Jeong Yeon-shin from close range.
They were within grappling distance.
Had Jeong Yeon-shin imdiately followed up with another strike, Wanyang wouldn’t have had ti to resist—he would have suffered a fatal wound.
Humiliation was evident in the tremor of his eyes.
But at the sa ti, Wanyang seed to have reached so sort of certainty.
“You’re really Tang Manyeon? I’ve never heard of such an unorthodox technique being passed down in the Tang Clan’s lineage.”
Even if Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t see it that way, those who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts were, without exception, prodigies.
While pride, temperant, and circumstances often clouded their perception, they fundantally possessed razor-sharp insight.
Wanyang was no different.
“Now that I think about it, what the Gate Master said about your ‘Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain’ technique…”
He muttered to himself.
The Golden Western Gate’s martial guardian had glimpsed the essence of Seomye’s martial philosophy.
Rather than relying on a rigid belief in his martial arts to navigate crises, he unconsciously adapted his techniques to suit the situation.
To any martial artist, such a disposition would appear utterly alien.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt a bitter taste in his mouth.
He had already been called out on the depths of his Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain technique by the Gate Master.
Still, he did not show it—just as he had learned to do since his childhood in the Jeong Household.
It was Wanyang who wore a dark expression now.
His anger seed just as intense as his initial shock at Jeong Yeon-shin’s control over inner energy.
This was expected.
He was a man who utterly revered the Golden Western Gate Master, to the point of willingly serving as his personal attendant.
Rather than analyzing the deeper implications of the situation, he was driven by raw emotion.
“You dare deceive the Gate Master?”
His muttering turned into an urgent accusation.
“Now that I think about it, after the Great Law was invoked… Only you three remained here with . That alone is an anomaly. This must be your doing, mustn’t it?”
His monologue escalated into a demand for answers.
Wanyang straightened his posture and locked eyes with Jeong Yeon-shin.
“Who are you? For what purpose have you impersonated a mber of the Tang bloodline? Judging by your peculiar talents, that ‘Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain’ you showed back then wasn’t a genuine Tang Clan technique, but rely a cheap trick of your own.”
“Does it matter?”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s quiet reply only further enraged Wanyang.
Considering that he stood before the wielder of the Dragon Spirit Divine Fist—the very presence that had instilled such terror in the clan mbers of this mystical domain—his indifferent expression and tone were almost outright provocations.
The guards stationed at the stone wall behind them held their breath, frozen in place.
“You insolent wretch! Do you think that just because you landed a single blow, you are fit to be the Tang Clan’s heir—?”
“You Golden Western Gate bastards.”
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
“Did you really think you could sacrifice warriors from Ipwang Fortress for human offerings… and get away with it?”
“What?”
A flicker of doubt crossed Wanyang’s previously gleaming eyes, still brimming with powerful inner energy.
Before he could react—
Jeong Yeon-shin leaned in and whispered into his ear.
“I am Ma Gwang-ik.”
“……!”
The wielder of the Dragon Spirit Divine Fist was a master of the Threefold Convergence Technique.
His reaction was swift.
As Wanyang’s eyes shot wide open and he reflexively wrapped himself in his Guardian Qi Barrier once more—
Swish.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s left hand seized the back of Wanyang’s hair, forcefully pressing him downward.
There would be no more concessions.
At that mont, the faint glow unique to Ten Ri Wide Horizon, a specialized movent technique, flickered beneath the Yongcheon Acupoint of his foot.
Using that as his propulsion, he launched his knee upward.
BANG!
A thunderous impact followed an instant after the strike landed.
The sound was slower than the attack itself.
The shockwave from the knee strike spread in a translucent ripple, knocking over the nearby gate guards.
They couldn’t rise.
More shockwaves continued to radiate from the collision between Jeong Yeon-shin and Wanyang.
BANG! BANG! KWAANG!
Wanyang could not withstand the onslaught of Jeong Yeon-shin’s refined Gold and Steel Hands.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Each ti Wanyang’s face was sent recoiling upward from the knee’s impact, it was imdiately crushed downward again.
KWAANG!
Wanyang attempted to retaliate, unleashing surging bursts of inner energy from his limbs, but his Dragon-Slaying Arts could not fully form before they were shattered.
The invisible threads of energy emanating from Jeong Yeon-shin’s body continuously unraveled Wanyang’s dispersing energy.
It was the essence of Sword Insight.
Ten more knee strikes followed.
Jeong Yeon-shin had never nad the technique, but it was still a martial art.
A culmination of patience, exploding only when it reached its limit.
Even the Fist Lord, Eon Hwayeon—whom he had slain before—had inspired it.
‘More useless techniques piling up.’
Jeong Yeon-shin released the back of Wanyang’s head.
His body collapsed forward.
A pool of blood seeped outward from his shattered face.
His Guardian Qi Barrier had crumbled under the accumulated force of the relentless strikes.
A worthless inner power defense.
“I’ll spare you since I need you for the way back. Don’t do anything reckless.”
Jeong Yeon-shin cast a fleeting glance down at Wanyang.
There was no response.
Only the faint sound of his breath, barely clinging to life.
“…Great Warrior, you…”
Among the gate guards, their leader spoke up, his tone cautious.
His gaze flickered between Wanyang, barely able to keep himself upright, and Jeong Yeon-shin, standing calmly, betraying no sign of exertion. There was disbelief in his eyes.
Even Jeong Yeon-shin, who had curbed his usual temperant, found himself montarily lost in thought.
Not because of their stares, but because of his own martial prowess—now significantly enhanced after his transformation.
Had he finally caught a glimpse of the Violet Tier?
At that mont—
“Tang Manyeon… no, Ma Gwang-ik…”
The voice ca from below. Wanyang.
His breathing was uneven, his internal energy thrown into disarray, but there was an unyielding determination in his ragged gasps.
For the first ti, Jeong Yeon-shin could sense why the Golden Western Gate was regarded as one of the Thirteen Heavens.
“Work with us… You are the one. If you fully lend your strength, we will be able to subdue the Flood Dragon…”
“You bastard!”
The gatekeeper snapped, his voice filled with fury.
“There is no Flood Dragon! That inhuman beast is no longer here! It disappeared long ago!”
“What?”
“Creatures of such mythical scale do not linger in one place! The Flood Dragon is an illusion—one that exists only beyond human reach. That is what makes it a dragon! Do you truly believe such a transcendent being would be caught by martial artists shackled by their own arrogance? You are beyond delusional!”
“What nonsense… How dare you—”
“This place has long since beco a blood-soaked hellscape—where warriors from all corners of the world, driven by greed, have descended upon an absent phantom, tearing each other apart for the re idea of its core.”
The gatekeeper stole a glance at Jeong Yeon-shin before continuing, his words deliberate, as though suppressing the weight of what he had to say.
“There are only humans left here. Those who refuse to accept that truth have carved up this narrow land, calling themselves Twin Kings, Three Lords, clinging to old glories. The exiled grandmasters of the now-vanished Kunlun Sect, the forr patriarchs of the Hebei Peng Clan and the Hwangbo Family—long presud dead—have all fallen into madness, just like you. The Flood Dragon is gone, and this land, dood to shrink into nothingness, is drowning in blood.”
Silence followed.
Wanyang’s voice ca to a halt.
Jeong Yeon-shin remained unfazed. His goal had never changed from the start.
“I am Jeong Yeon-shin. I co from Ipwang Fortress.”
He introduced himself as if speaking to an ignorant villager.
After all, those who had spent their lives in a secluded, labyrinthine land of formations might not recognize the greatest martial sect in the world.
“Ipwang Fortress?”
“Then his martial prowess makes sense…”
“But he looks too young. And he doesn’t have the ears of a noble clan…”
“Jeong Yeon-shin! He says his na is Jeong Yeon-shin! He’s from Ipwang Fortress!”
There was sothing about Jeong Yeon-shin’s sunlit features that carried an unknown weight—a presence he himself did not yet recognize.
As soon as he stepped forward, the heavy atmosphere lifted.
The murmuring grew louder, spreading like ripples in water—from the gate guards standing atop the stone wall to the dozens of villagers below, who had gathered to look up.
“Jeong Yeon-shin?”
“The benefactor?”
Shff.
Perched atop the stone fortress wall, the Tang siblings—Toxic Phoenix and Toxic Dragon—watched the unfolding scene.
For a brief mont, they caught a glimpse of the sky-blue gleam in Jeong Yeon-shin’s upper dantian.
Their shocked expressions showed that they no longer had the words to question his identity.
—Is he truly a junior?
A voice imbued with imnse power rang through the air, reverberating in his ears.
Whoooosh—!
From the center of the village to the outer periter—
A massive figure crossed a distance of over a hundred paces in a single step, arriving atop the stone fortress wall with a thunderous boom. Dust billowed up in waves.
Yet despite the impact, there was no residual shockwave.
A towering man in black robes lood over Jeong Yeon-shin.
“I received reports that outsiders had appeared from various places. Your energy felt familiar, but… you are not the Seomye I know.”
His voice was as thick as his fra, echoing like sound passing through a deep cavern.
His presence was overwhelming.
Pointed ears, a massive build—his features rivaled those of pure-blooded martial clans.
His untad hair was roughly swept back, revealing a broad forehead.
Great Lord of the Heavenly Gate.
Hahoe Wi-jin, the Heavenly Power Strength God.
A faint smirk ford on Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips.
***
Jeong Yeon-shin displayed the Radiant Wheel Technique.
For a brief mont, he even mimicked the movent he had once devised to deceive Hahoe Wi-jin, who had been unaware of its proper execution.
Recalling that embarrassing past mory, he felt an odd sense of nostalgia.
—The ridians of our bodies are profoundly mysterious. By fine-tuning our energy and muscles from a distance, our inner power naturally rebounds all the way to the plantar fascia. That is how the Twelve ridians are connected. I’m not sure why you never applied it this way… If your martial system has a specific reason for it…
—…I didn’t know.
‘I actually believed it when my senior said that.’
It wasn’t until Jeong Yeon-shin t Great Lord Bo Hyeol that he realized—many seniors had been carefully looking after their juniors.
Looking back now, it was a good mory.
Accompanied by the Tang siblings and the half-dead Wanyang, Jeong Yeon-shin entered the village.
The villagers, all mbers of the Iron Clan, welcod him with open arms.
So even held up silvery tal ingots, not re steel, but sothing more radiant.
“Be sure to visit my shop! That sword you’re wearing—it’s going to break soon! I can tell just by looking at the edge—it’s taken an ungodly amount of impact!”
“Grandfather, that man is Ma Gwang-ik!”
“So Ma Yeon-jeok’s grandson actually survived? Given his temperant, I thought he was fated for an early grave…”
“He must be an incredible master, right?”
“Does no one else see the problem here? We can’t let this reach the ears of the Twin Kings or the Three Lords…”
The entire village was abuzz.
It made sense—this place was surrounded by forges.
Thick smoke rose into the sky, blending with the hamring sounds of bellows and molten tal.
Weapons with gleaming, razor-sharp edges were casually left to cool on racks, creating an almost mystical sight.
Jeong Yeon-shin strode down the long dirt road, entering the village chief’s hall.
Following the silent Hahoe Wi-jin, who, for once, refrained from speaking.
“So.”
The room was large enough to accommodate even the Great Lord of the Heavenly Gate’s massive fra.
The chieftain’s seat, surprisingly, was a throne crafted from solid gold.
Seated upon it, Hahoe Wi-jin stared at Jeong Yeon-shin for a long mont before speaking in a slow, deliberate tone.
“How is the previous Lord of the Heavenly Gate? A great deal of ti must have passed.”
“My grandfather is well.”
“…No signs of old age?”
There was an odd glimr of hope in his offhanded question.
“…What?”
Seated across from him, Jeong Yeon-shin frowned in confusion.
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