The night was deep and blue.
By the ti Jeong Yeon-shin and his group arrived at Hahoe Wi-jin’s village, the sun had already set.
The pitch-black night sky of the formation was filled with softly glowing stars. Whether they were real or not was uncertain.
“……”
Before the cold anvil,
Jeong Yeon-shin saw the Tang siblings standing in the faint night mist.
They looked as though only the husks of their bodies remained. They wore smiles, but the usual liveliness was gone.
Their faces were paler than the starlight above, their hands gripping hamrs as they stood firmly on the ground—only their posture seed resolute.
“They forged the sword and perished.”
Hahoe Wi-jin spoke in a calm tone. Perhaps because he had just received word of Suncheon Ik-ju’s death, his voice was slightly hoarse.
Cheon So-so, standing beside him, remained quiet as well. Though she had no personal ties to the Tang siblings, she had witnessed the deaths of many comrades over countless missions.
For a very long ti.
But Jeong Yeon-shin was different.
Without a word, he stepped toward the siblings.
Step.
A slow, deliberate pace.
Even before he could consider how they had t their end, the upper energy center in his mind whispered a realization to him.
Jeong Yeon-shin imdiately grasped what had transpired.
ntal Overload.
They had pushed their minds to the limit.
Forging the blade, tempering its surface, ticulously refining its balance, and pouring their spirit into the weapon—all while pushing beyond their capabilities.
Just as he had, when he first founded the Swordsmithing School.
Had they known?
With each strike of the hamr, had they felt death approaching, step by step?
“We tried to retrieve the bodies, but even with four strong n lifting together, they wouldn’t budge. It seems the remnants of the sword’s spirit have taken root in their feet.”
A short old man quietly stepped forward, stopping beside the fallen siblings.
The village’s forr chieftain.
His face, deeply lined with wrinkles, bore the wisdom of age. He glanced at the Divine Beast King before looking at Jeong Yeon-shin, unable to hide his astonishnt.
“You’ve truly altered the order of this land. Even here, Ipwang Fortress is still Ipwang Fortress.”
“Did they leave any last words?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked without looking away from the siblings.
The old chief gave a bitter smile.
“They said they would forge a sword for their benefactor. In exchange, they wanted to learn everything we knew about the True Silver Veins in this land.
Then, after practicing the casting and forging process twice, they imdiately began their work.
And that was the end.
I have never seen such geniuses before.”
Saying so, he fixed his gaze on the divine sword tied to Ma Gwang-ik’s waist.
Jeong Yeon-shin, noticing the undisguised admiration in the Iron Clan elder’s eyes, slowly clasped his fists in a respectful bow before withdrawing his attention.
There were no final words.
Only a single sword remained.
Ssshh—
Jeong Yeon-shin silently faced the night air.
The breeze lifted the edges of his sleeves, carrying a coolness that brushed against him. In that mont, it was impossible to tell where the wind’s tail would finally end.
“A mont of mourning is necessary. I’ll be heading inside first.”
Hwangbo Gon patted him twice on the shoulder before trudging past.
With no guide to lead him, he seed prepared to sleep wherever he pleased.
Even after receiving news of his clan’s annihilation, the Divine Beast King’s face remained composed, shalessly indifferent.
His true feelings were unknowable.
The only ti he had shown any genuine emotion was when he had marveled at Jeong Yeon-shin’s rebirth.
A man whom even Jeong Yeon-shin would struggle to handle alone.
As Hahoe Wi-jin watched the Divine Beast King’s retreating figure, he turned to his junior and spoke.
“…If we force them apart, their bodies might be damaged. The spirit lingering within them is too dense for decay to set in. If there’s no other way, we can dig deep into the earth and extract them carefully.
If you need help, just say the word.”
“Thank you for your advice. Please rest now.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke softly.
Though his tone was not particularly firm, the elder warriors of the Black Sovereigns did not press further.
As Hahoe Wi-jin and Cheon So-so took their leave, the old village chief, who had been staring at Ma Gwang-ik’s divine sword, was also forced to depart—his nape firmly gripped by Hahoe Wi-jin’s large hand.
“This is my junior. He’s close to being the next Purple Rank of Ipwang Fortress, so don’t be a fool.”
“I get it, so let go…! The only fool here is your oversized forehead.”
And with that, a deep silence settled.
But only for a mont.
“Co out.”
“…It’s getting harder and harder to deceive you.”
A voice.
Clear pronunciation, but with a rough undertone.
A voice that had once been pure, now forcibly marred by internal energy.
Thud—
Suddenly—
A hem of pristine white robes appeared as a figure landed lightly. A silver mask, covering from forehead to the tip of the nose, caught the dim light as they stepped into view.
Wrapped in an aura of mystery.
The Young Lord of the Ming Cult.
“Been out having fun?”
At Jeong Yeon-shin’s question, the Young Lord shrugged.
“There was much to do.
I had to manipulate the Life and Death Gates of this formation to block Jin Shi-mun from sneaking in, investigate traces of the Flood Dragon… and at tis, reinforce the spellwork binding your wife’s shadow.
That’s nearly an act of defying fate itself.
Not exactly an easy task. Do you even appreciate how much effort this takes?”
“You’re giving a headache.”
“As expected. My one and only understanding companion.”
The Young Lord’s dark blue eyes flickered beneath the mask as he followed Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze to the Tang siblings.
“Ah. So that’s why.”
“What is?”
“The reason your ‘wife’ is trembling in fear.
I found the energy pattern in the siblings’ upper energy centers to be eerily similar to yours. Upon closer inspection, it turns out they were the joint work of the Bloodfla Cult and the Tang Clan.”
“……”
“She spent quite so ti in the Bloodfla Cult’s main temple, didn’t she?
With her keen eyes, she probably tried to protect you by creating a shoddy anatomical diagram, which she handed over to the Tang Clan.
The Bloodfla Cult Leader and the Tang Clan’s Grand Elder must have used that to create those twins.”
“I told you. She is not my wife.”
“She’s hiding.”
The Young Lord’s long fingers pointed at Jeong Yeon-shin’s shadow.
“Trembling in fear.
Because you’re absolutely livid right now.”
A faint smirk played on the Young Lord’s lips beneath his silver mask.
The mask’s flowing sheen only deepened the impression of his amusent.
“State your intentions.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke quietly.
There was sothing in the Young Lord’s words that hinted at a hidden agenda.
It was said that certain martial masters of the demonic path excelled at provoking their opponents, drawing out blind rage to gain the upper hand.
The Young Lord was likely the sa.
Unlike the upright Ma Gwang-ik, he had not grown up with a straight path before him.
Whether the Young Lord knew Jeong Yeon-shin’s thoughts or not, he clapped his hands.
A sharp gust of wind extended from Jeong Yeon-shin’s body, making the Young Lord’s white scarf flutter.
“A trendous presence.
Even after what you did to the Biyeok Peng Clan’s old monsters, Peng Yeol-ran, and Li Shi-myeong…”
“The Wind Lord was subdued by the seniors.”
“Anyway.”
The Young Lord lazily waved his hand.
“I thought I should test my remaining strength in case we end up facing the remnants of the Flood Dragon in the future, but it was a complete waste of effort.”
“Explain in detail.”
“I got nothing. No matter where I searched within the formation, I couldn’t find even a single scale of the Flood Dragon. It would’ve been nice if it at least left behind its inner core.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Your consolation is appreciated.”
The Young Lord continued in a slow, deliberate tone.
“Well, since I’ve seen all there is to see, it’s ti to leave. But the mont we open the space to the outside, the residual spirit energy within the Flood Dragon’s formation will react.”
“In what way?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked, slowly withdrawing his hand from the blade’s hilt.
Seeing this, the Young Lord exaggeratedly let his shoulders drop, as if expressing relief.
Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin still hadn’t fully gauged the Young Lord’s true intentions.
“You should be prepared for the possibility that the Flood Dragon’s Primordial Infant Spirit might manifest.”
“Now, of all tis?”
“A spirit beast that failed to ascend becos incredibly greedy. It may tolerate prey entering its domain, but it never allows anything to leave.”
Primordial Infant Spirit.
A Daoist concept.
It referred to a state where the essence of internal energy was amplified to such an extent that it rged with one’s power, creating an entirely separate body.
In folklore, it was said that the Sword Immortals of Wudang were capable of such a technique, their legendary clones wielding unparalleled swordsmanship.
After all, how many in this world could withstand the swordplay of two identical supre masters at once?
And if the Flood Dragon had left behind a clone…
“It won’t be anywhere near the strength of its original body, and it may not even appear at all. But it’s worth keeping in mind.”
“I understand.”
“Then, once the sun rises tomorrow, we’ll activate the formation and—”
“Two days from now.”
“…What?”
“We leave with the commoners.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke, his gaze still fixed on the Tang siblings.
***
Hahoe Wi-jin and Cheon So-so took the lead in gathering those scattered within the formation.
It was a space on the verge of destruction.
Once the formation collapsed, there was no telling what would happen to those left behind.
Sunmok Ridge and the Celestial Forest Unit were summoned.
Even Suncheon Ik-ju, who had been halfway inside the formation, had been gathered.
“That man… he’s Seomye?”
“He really took down the Biyeok Peng Clan alone…!”
Nearly sixty people stood in awe at Jeong Yeon-shin’s presence while rounding up the commoners.
At tis, so desperate individuals tried to steal the saplings Cheon So-so carried, only to be swiftly kicked away by the Divine Beast King as soon as they crossed the village fence.
“I have not yet undergone my golden purification ritual, so even if I breathe in the outside air, it is not a disgrace.”
Lying leisurely atop the towering barricade, Hwangbo Gon was a man unbound by the orthodox order of the martial world.
Even upon hearing of the Young Lord of the Ming Cult’s presence, he rely left behind a passing remark, much like a coachman entrusting a carriage, saying, “Take care of it.”
Thus, two days passed.
Jeong Yeon-shin spent those two nights and days with the Twin Venoms of the Dragon and Phoenix, seated cross-legged before them.
Half-ditating, his eyes remained half-closed, though when the starry night sky arrived, he would occasionally look at them.
Compared to the harsh sunlight, the starlight highlighted the siblings’ figures more vividly.
Jeong Yeon-shin rested the divine sword across his knees and pondered.
Would he, too, leave such an indelible mark upon the world?
The divine sword, the siblings' final creation, would surely beco renowned—unbreakable for generations.
“Shouldn’t you get up soon?”
A voice from above.
Jeong Yeon-shin opened his eyes at the Young Lord’s words.
Under the orange hues of dawn,
A massive crowd surrounded them.
An uncountable number of people—martial artists, the Iron Clan, and all manner of mixed-blood clans.
Had the incidents he caused already spread so far?
Not a single person among them dared to speak hastily.
They rely watched him with curiosity and fear, for unlike the outside world, here, they knew the truth of Jeong Yeon-shin’s martial prowess.
Jeong Yeon-shin rose from his seat, placing the corpses of the Tang siblings behind him.
‘There are many.’
The village was packed, a sea of people pressing toward the center, hoping to be included in the Young Lord’s spell formation.
Hahoe Wi-jin and Cheon So-so stood at a distance on opposite sides, maintaining a defensive formation to protect the commoners.
Scattered subordinates stood on guard, wary of the old monsters who had previously tried to steal the saplings.
It was utterly silent.
The Young Lord spread his arms.
“I told you. It’ll be over in a mont.”
“Yes.”
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded.
He had already heard—
The Flood Dragon was a supernatural being, traversing eternity and fleeting monts alike.
“It really will only take a mont.”
The Young Lord spoke again, like an older brother or sister prone to nagging.
“No one aside from you and I will be able to react in ti. Keep that in mind.”
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent, simply thinking, He talks too much.
The Young Lord’s lips curled into a smirk.
“Let’s begin.”
The instant the Young Lord’s leather shoe struck the ground—
KWA-AAAAAH!
A deafening roar surged from the outskirts, cutting through the air in a sweeping arc.
One by one, the iron blocks of True Silver, which had served as the formation’s anchors, shattered.
It happened in an instant.
Ancient, indecipherable characters and intricate patterns carved themselves into the earth, forming a massive circular spell formation.
So of the Iron Clan mbers, those particularly sensitive to energy, let out silent exclamations of awe.
WHOOOSH—
Suddenly, the sky darkened. The world seed to plunge into an abyss.
A shadow had been cast over everything.
Jeong Yeon-shin lifted his head.
A dense, oppressive natural energy had coalesced above them.
Before anyone could react, it engulfed the entire formation.
WUUUUUUUUUUNG—!
A long, massive shadow lood in the sky, its mouth opening as it gazed down at them.
A monstrous maw, lined with countless jagged teeth.
Piercing, eerie eyes.
A massive, obsidian-like gaze shimring with a malevolent gleam.
Unmatched.
Its head alone was nearly half the size of the village.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened.
This is…
The martial world where the Purple Rank warriors of Ipwang Fortress resided.
A realm of monstrous entities, spirits, and absolute masters.
“The Flood Dragon! The Dragon God has descended!”
“No… this can’t be…!”
“T-This is impossible…!”
Panic swept through the gathered people.
In an instant, many vanished.
The spell formation had activated, opening an invisible gateway.
One by one, those standing before Jeong Yeon-shin disappeared in the blink of an eye.
By the ti Jeong Yeon-shin even registered the event, the evacuation line had reached his very feet.
“It really showed up, huh? Well, at least the spell formation is complete.”
The Young Lord’s voice rang out nonchalantly.
Then, it happened.
The mont the commoners were safely beyond the formation, the mont the Young Lord turned his gaze upward—
KWA-AAAAAH!
A blinding red explosion engulfed the air.
The Flood Dragon’s breath.
It was imnse. The air distorted chaotically, and the firestorm carried an overwhelming shockwave, surging toward Jeong Yeon-shin’s face.
By then, Jeong Yeon-shin could feel the force of the spell formation pulling him toward safety.
But he stilled his energy with a single revolution of his Heart’s Radiant Ring.
Not yet.
The siblings were still behind him.
The commoners were still here.
The mont the onlookers realized the magnitude of the firestorm, they gasped in terror, their breath ragged.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision slowed—
The realm of absolute focus.
Step.
Instead of retreating, he took a step forward.
Even as he sensed the urgent movents of his seniors rushing toward him, his mind recalled the siblings, their lifeless bodies bathed in starlight.
CRACK—
A sound echoed from his heart.
A layer of his Radiant Ring peeled away.
And then—
Countless fragnts of soft, luminous energy scattered from his body.
At the sa ti, all his acupoints followed the mantra of Myriad Blossoms in the Rain.
In an instant, that radiant energy wove itself into a single, shimring garnt.
A seamless mont.
Bathed in pale starlight like silk, Jeong Yeon-shin stood, shielding the Tang siblings as he t the Flood Dragon’s fire head-on.
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