The Ghostly Tyrant Queen, the Bright Wing Lord, and Feng Lord.
A formation where Peng Yeol-ran and Feng Lord Li Shi-myeong had trapped Ma Gwang-ik between them—while the rest of the Twin Kings and Three Lords observed from above.
"……."
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly ran his hand down the blade.
It bore an intricate, ever-shifting wave pattern—just like the Northern Dark Sword he had once broken.
A signature mark of the Tang Clan's Secret Forging Art, a technique known for producing legendary weapons.
True Silver Iron.
A tal said to exist only in this land.
A rare weapon.
Despite being only slightly over three feet long, with a silver handle to match, its faint radiance shimred endlessly across the surface.
He could tell—it would move like an extension of his own body, no matter which Seomye Martial Technique he used.
A sword that required no taming.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a sword this fast in responding to Yi Gi Yu Geom. It could even rival the Ten Ri One Kill technique of the Dark Night Battlefront.”
“The passage of ti does not weigh heavily on him. For such a warrior to have been born in Ipwang Fortress…”
“A horse is still a horse, no matter how you dress it up. What a roundabout way to say he’s young.”
The voices ca from above.
It was Hwangbo Gon, the Divine Martial King, and Amgun, the Shadow Lord of Kunlun, speaking atop the ridgeline.
The ominous gaze of Hu Gae, the Demon Beggar of the Beggars’ Sect, could also be felt from where he lay on the large rock.
Their presence alone created an invisible but overwhelming pressure.
Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin rely lifted his eyelids slightly.
He wasn’t looking at the Twin Kings and Three Lords—figures he had never t before.
His focus remained solely on the person who had just admitted to killing Ha Do-un of Suncheon Ik-ju.
The Ghostly Tyrant Queen, Peng Yeol-ran.
Haa… haa…
Blood seeped from her impaled abdon, though the flow was beginning to slow.
An unseen surge of true energy coursed through her, while wisps of white vapor escaped from the corners of her lips, dissipating into the air.
Despite the fact that her abdominal artery, spleen ridian, and even her spine must have been torn apart along with her internal organs—she straightened her posture, slowly but surely.
Her grip remained firm on the massive broadsword, still too large to be wielded with one hand.
The pale smoke emanating from her body spread throughout the area, as if poised to unleash a deadly sword wave at any mont.
A true absolute being.
She activated her technique—Five Tiger Severing Blade Art.
Jeong Yeon-shin saw through her state instantly.
A master of Three Harmonies Convergence at its peak.
The mont his Sword Control Technique had struck, she had reconstructed the shape of her bones with formless true energy, even reforming her internal organs inside her abdon.
A level where true energy itself beca tangible flesh—granting her an unnatural longevity.
An astounding capacity for energy storage and internal arts mastery.
Truly, a supre warrior does not die easily.
For one who reigned over this vast battlefield, it was only natural.
But she wouldn’t last long.
Even true energy could not indefinitely replace a human’s bones and flesh.
“What in the…? Peng Mae? Peng Mae…!”
A desperate cry.
Feng Lord Li Shi-myeong.
Even as he struggled to suppress the internal injuries from Jeong Yeon-shin’s Sword Song, he had only now fully registered the severity of Peng Yeol-ran’s wounds.
The forr matriarch of the Peng Family, the Ghostly Tyrant Queen, had been struck down—by a re youth from Ipwang Fortress?
It was unthinkable.
Even the spectators who had begun fleeing down the mountain at the sight of the Twin Kings and Three Lords stopped their lightness skill flight, turning back in sheer disbelief.
"How old is she, exactly?"
Jeong Yeon-shin asked suddenly.
"……."
Feng Lord did not respond.
Instead, he simply glared, silently assessing the gaps in Jeong Yeon-shin’s sword posture.
A seasoned warrior—one of the Ghostly Tyrant Queen’s closest subordinates—he would not recklessly give in to anger.
Above them, seated on a high tree branch, Hwangbo Gon chuckled.
Even without looking, Jeong Yeon-shin could tell—his smirk carried the sa sharpness as Tae Yeom-ryong’s.
“She’s old enough that asuring her age is pointless.”
The forr head of the Hwangbo Clan spoke.
A man whose true thoughts were difficult to read.
But Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t care.
“A fool’s tongue invites disaster.”
He finally addressed Peng Yeol-ran directly, locking eyes with her.
Her narrowed gaze remained steady as she inhaled deeply, regulating her internal energy breathing technique.
She had already analyzed the situation—realizing that Jeong Yeon-shin was hesitant to act recklessly, given the presence of the Twin Kings and Three Lords.
Jeong Yeon-shin continued speaking, his tone cold.
“You could have lived out the rest of your aningless years in peace. Instead, you chose to mock the death of another Great Lord right before Ma Gwang-ik’s eyes.”
“You insolent—!”
Behind him, Feng Lord’s fury erupted.
Hwaak—!
Jeong Yeon-shin sensed the turbulent force of a kick rushing toward his back.
The energy was powerful enough to shred the air apart—his very robes rippled under the force.
The Four-Wheel Wind Kick of the Feng Lord.
It was exactly what Jeong Yeon-shin wanted.
With the Twin Kings and Three Lords gathered in a precarious deadlock, his priority was eliminating Peng Yeol-ran and Feng Lord first.
Die.
Jeong Yeon-shin twisted his waist.
Following the motion, his left palm sliced through the air, charged with a lethal intent.
A single strike—ant to finish it instantly.
The young man, despite his composed exterior, was burning inside.
He had not shown it, but the death of another Great Lord had ignited a fire within him—a fla wild and unrelenting, like dry kindling catching fire.
At that mont—
Peng Yeol-ran’s eyes snapped open.
She was a veteran of the martial world, a warrior who had witnessed countless deaths unfold before her eyes.
She had seen great warriors felled by unpredictable assassins, by an ill-tid misstep in their own techniques, by a montary lapse in concentration that left them reacting just a breath too late.
She understood, more than most, how easily a martial artist’s life could be snuffed out—like a mayfly vanishing in an instant.
Today was her final day.
Peng Yeol-ran did not deny the death that had co upon her suddenly, without warning, on what should have been a montous occasion.
For warriors, death was a lifelong companion.
She embraced the inescapable demise that lood over her like a wave of dark pleasure.
But I won’t go alone.
If she had to die, she would drag him with her.
If she was to cross the Threefold River of the Dead, then taking along a youth as striking as this one—this exquisite boy from Ipwang Fortress—would not be such a bad fate.
Should boredom creep upon her in the afterlife, she could even try to seduce him as a concubine.
She raised her broadsword toward Jeong Yeon-shin’s retreating back.
How dare you.
She had exchanged enough blows with him to recognize him as a true opponent.
Even after hearing Hahoe Wi-jin’s shout, he had not turned his head.
And it wasn’t just because of Ma Gwang-ik’s alluring face.
Wuuuuung—
Five layers of energy waves rippled around the edge of her sword, forming translucent rings.
It was the manifestation of Five Tiger Severing Blade Art’s Forty-Five Consecutive Strikes, a technique she had spent decades refining in order to counter the Storm Dragon Execution Slash of Nangwang Geum Si-hu, the Wandering King.
Moonless Sky Cannon—Dragon’s Roar Piercing the Heavens.
Even in her current condition, using it twice would an certain death.
But no other technique could guarantee that she would take this peerless youth with her.
Her final opponent was that formidable.
Let’s go together.
She smiled, her blade extending forward—so slow, yet so certain.
Li Shi-myeong stood behind Jeong Yeon-shin, blocking his escape.
A perfectly orchestrated pincer attack.
From the front and back, inescapable doom.
“……!”
At that mont, Li Shi-myeong’s eyes widened as he lunged forward.
He should have sensed the incoming sword energy from Peng Yeol-ran—and yet, Jeong Yeon-shin…
Rather than evading, he spun even faster.
His movents flowed effortlessly, and from his free hand erupted a devastating spiral of compressed wind.
For a brief mont, Li Shi-myeong couldn’t comprehend Jeong Yeon-shin’s target.
Where… is he striking?
The trajectory of his palm was too elongated.
If he were truly countering Li Shi-myeong’s Four-Wheel Wind Kick, his attack would have been angled differently.
Unless… he was ignoring Li Shi-myeong entirely.
Unless his true target was Peng Yeol-ran—and his spinning motion was rely a feint.
And then, it happened.
“……!”
So overwhelming was Ma Gwang-ik’s presence that Li Shi-myeong had failed to notice the true threat descending upon him.
He realized too late.
A massive shadow swallowed him whole.
[You disgrace of your clan!]
A voice thundered—not a re shout, but a declaration of will.
A Mind Transmission Shout.
The sheer force of the Three Harmonies Convergence state, amplified by overwhelming internal energy, turned Hahoe Wi-jin’s words into a physical lion’s roar.
Hahoe Wi-jin was plumting toward Li Shi-myeong at a speed too fast to comprehend.
If only you had reexamined the Bladder ridian.
Open the Large Intestine Acupoint just slightly.
Focus your energy on your rectus abdominis.
Then, you will see a different way to move your energy.
A natural movent that surpasses even the force of an explosive step.
In a fraction of a fraction of a second—
mories flashed through Hahoe Wi-jin’s mind.
It was a lesson, long ago, from a certain junior—a lesson that had already bordered on a secret martial principle.
Despite his enormous stature, Hahoe Wi-jin had always struggled with his lower back’s circulation.
And so, he had followed his junior’s advice.
He had refined his technique, training relentlessly.
And now—
He would reach him in ti.
His massive eyes locked onto his target.
So close now.
BOOOOM—!
As Peng Yeol-ran thrust forward, the air around her blade quaked, rippling with translucent shockwaves.
At that very instant—just before Li Shi-myeong’s foot struck the back of Jeong Yeon-shin’s neck—
Hahoe Wi-jin relaxed the muscles of his glutes and pelvis.
At the sa ti, he channeled the internal energy from his Shin-Yu Acupoint at his lower back and released it explosively through the ridians of his entire body.
Just as his junior had advised him.
—If you do this, the energy that reaches the plantar fascia will gain its own elasticity.
At that mont, he beca the Left Seat of Seomye Martial ridian.
Hwaaaah!
A massive shockwave burst from the tip of his foot.
The sheer force of his strike sent a thick layer of dust scattering in all directions, while his falling heel slamd into Li Shi-myeong’s knee like a lightning bolt.
‘When did he—?!’
CRACK!
Li Shi-myeong’s eyes trembled with shock.
Even as his bones fractured, Jeong Yeon-shin never stopped moving.
He spun on his axis—pouring all his montum into his left hand.
Turning Death to Rebirth, Awakening the Abyss.
From the mont Peng Yeol-ran raised her sword, he had anticipated Hahoe Wi-jin’s intervention.
A veteran of Ipwang Fortress, a senior warrior of Seomye, a man who had no reason to let a nuisance like Li Shi-myeong get in the way.
And so, Jeong Yeon-shin had no doubts.
Now, Peng Yeol-ran was right in front of him.
He reached out toward her descending blade aura.
The five interwoven rings of energy—
A swirling, typhoon-like maelstrom of colorless qi, coiled and refined like a perfect storm.
He wasted no ti.
He unleashed the Abyss.
BOOOOOM!
The atmosphere warped in an instant.
The shockwave erupted upward, sending a wave of displaced earth surging skyward.
Beyond the dust, Peng Yeol-ran’s face erged.
Her lips curled ever so slightly.
She whispered:
"Take the Dragon’s Roar Piercing the Heavens head-on."
‘There’s more?’
Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes narrowed.
The five rings—
As soon as they touched his striking force, their forms dissolved into a storm of countless shards.
Then, they surged toward him.
Each one bursting through the air like the roaring souls of tigers.
The echoes of a dead technique—
Once sought by Nangwang Geum Si-hu, the Wandering King.
Sothing eerily reminiscent of Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Rain.
But it was different from both.
Each fragnt followed its own path.
Their trajectories were intricately woven, each targeting a vital acupoint from a different angle.
It was incredibly complex.
A testant to the decades of mastery Peng Yeol-ran had accumulated.
And indeed—
She relished it.
Like a drunken nobleman reveling in the night, she let her blade dance, savoring the mont.
That was how it had always been.
Martial arts were built on experience.
Every stroke of Five Tiger Severing Blade Art was rooted in the echoes of the past.
"Those were good tis."
She rembered the warmth of lovers, the intoxication of fine liquor, and the clarity of revelation that followed.
A single night of indulgence would wipe her mind clean, and in that blank slate, the next breakthrough would co—
All for one purpose.
To surpass Nangwang Geum Si-hu.
KUUUUUUH—!
The battlefield shook beneath the force of her technique.
‘Forty-Five Strikes.’
Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes glead with electric blue light.
He saw everything.
Every trajectory, every shifting fragnt, every burst of force.
Through Sky-Piercing Insight, he tracked them all.
His pupils flickered ever so slightly.
He calculated their angles, forces, and speeds—
And for a mont, it felt like a constellation was being etched into his mind.
He raised his sword.
Am I… reacting this fast?
SHHHRK!
His blade streaked through the air, leaving a trail of silver light.
The vibrations surged from the tip of his sword down to his feet, splitting the ground apart.
The Dragon’s Roar Piercing the Heavens—
Shattered.
The white energy shards were scattered in all directions.
The few that escaped his strike tore through his flesh, leaving thin wounds across his skin.
Yet his calm never wavered.
Even though his blade aura had just torn through the air itself.
“The Five Tiger Severing Blade Art is structured in five sets of nine strikes.
A total of Forty-Five Blade Movents.
Not sothing one can withstand head-on… at least, not with ordinary courage.”
The words ca from high above.
Perched lazily on a branch, like a gambler spectating a martial tournant, Shin Su-hye Wang had been murmuring to himself—
But now, he fell silent.
The mountain pass was dead quiet.
The exchange was over.
Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his blade.
Three steps ahead of him, Peng Yeol-ran stood motionless.
Her body was riddled with holes.
“Well observed.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice was calm.
“Thanks to you, I’ve gained decades in a mont.”
“……”
White dandelion seeds drifted through the air, caught in the sunlight.
Fragnts of Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Rain glistened among them.
A battle of titans had ended.
And the sun broke through the haze—
As if to mark the passing of an era.
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