Slowly.
The space, which had scattered sunlight in every direction like a fractured sky, regained its original hue, like a sky clearing after a storm.
The countless intangible swords, once spread like a sea of clouds, vanished.
In their place, the ruined battlefield was revealed—scarred with blade marks, the earth a desolate shade of ochre.
“……”
Two figures stood in silence.
No wind blew.
The air was dry, stripped of even the faint moisture of autumn by the storm of swordplay that had raged monts before.
Now, only two swordsn were permitted to move.
“Heh, well now…”
A strained groan, followed by an easygoing voice.
“If you had used both hands, I’d have lost both my arms.”
“……”
“I told you before, didn’t I? Absolute balance is my creed. Today, my stubbornness in using only one hand paid off.”
The right arm of the master of Heavenly Extre Sect was gone—severed from the shoulder.
His upper garnts were in the sa state.
Across his now-exposed chest, a deep crimson line stretched, blood oozing in thick surges.
A legendary swordsman, now maid.
His missing arm, the near-bisected state of his torso—testant to the ferocity of their duel.
“In all the hardships this wretched body has endured, this was by far the most exhilarating.”
He swayed slightly but smiled.
anwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin, standing firm, did not look at him.
Instead, his eyes turned slightly to the side, where two severed arms lay.
One, a right hand cut off at the wrist, the remnants of a limb utterly overwheld by sword force.
The other, a left arm severed cleanly, its cross-section smooth as glass.
One belonged to the master of Heavenly Extre Sect.
The other was Yeon-shin’s own.
Even the veins, once coursing with qi, had been severed differently.
So too had their fates diverged.
Winter’s Dream, the sword the master of Heavenly Extre Sect had lost, lay abandoned on the ground.
But Yeon-shin still held Thunderbolt Lightning in his grasp.
It was decisive.
Both of them knew it.
“…How does it feel to be one of the five greatest swordsn in the vast world?”
The master of Heavenly Extre Sect spoke with a faint smile.
“There will be more people eager to hear your story than there are clouds in the sky. Even those monstrous giants of the northern tribes, who wield crescent blades and massive axes, will respect your sword. Just as I did.”
He laughed, but Yeon-shin did not respond.
Nor did the man expect an answer.
“I’ve always been curious.”
In that mont, his left hand extended—Winter’s Dream flew back into his grip.
A movent faster than a swift sword, a perfect execution of the technique that grasped objects from afar.
Click.
“How did the sage who returned crippled from the north maintain such martial prowess? Where does the strength of Great Master Wonjeok co from? It can’t simply be brute force or sheer internal energy.”
His tone was light, like that of a traveling storyteller beneath a straw hat.
Yeon-shin finally opened his lips.
“…You seem awfully relaxed.”
“I’m embarrassed to admit, but I’m exhilarated.”
Neither of them moved their hands, yet both had already stopped the bleeding with qi control.
Only the severed arms at their feet continued to stain the earth with their blood.
The ground had turned a deep black-red.
“I once saw sothing so horrific that I gouged out my own eyes. That was when I stepped onto the heretical path and awakened my inner sight.”
The master of Heavenly Extre Sect spun Winter’s Dream lightly in his left hand, clearly elated.
“Likewise, Great Master Wonjeok lost both arms and an eye, yet he ascended to the pinnacle of righteous martial arts. Loss strips away illusions.”
His words were not wrong.
And indeed—his stance with a sword in his left hand did not look unfamiliar.
A swordsman who harbored a thousand swords in his mind—such a man could not have failed to train in left-handed techniques.
Buzz—
Yeon-shin quietly observed him while adjusting the circulation of his Wheel of Heavenly Laws.
He needed to maintain the unification of Jing, Qi, and Shen.
Now was the only chance.
With an entire arm’s worth of ridians severed, his Twelve Main ridians, Qi Circulation Points, and Tendon Channels needed restructuring.
Fortunately, restoring his balance was no different from correcting a slight imbalance in his stance.
‘Strengthen the flow of Great Circulatory Path. Neutralize the loss of Lung ridian of Hand Taiyin by stabilizing with Wheel of Heavenly Laws. Concentrate the function of Jeong Family’s Internal Energy Technique into the Stomach ridian of Foot Yangming. Establish a new anchor for qi circulation in the left half of the body as a temporary solution…’
He never let go of an insight once grasped.
Neither did he relinquish Three Flowers Converging into One Essence.
As the smooth muscles of his upper body were exposed, a gentle wind rippled around him.
The blind master of Heavenly Extre Sect, who had been idly swinging his sword as if practicing, let out a hearty laugh.
“I had planned to rest for at least a month.”
His tone was relaxed as he added, “You win. I won’t interfere.”
He shook his head.
“Let’s each do what we must. Thanks to you, I now wish to fully engrain my understanding of left-handed swordplay. And I won’t appear in the martial world for over a year.
Additionally, if any future conflicts arise with Ipwang Fortress, I swear on Winter’s Dream that your martial lineage will remain untouched.”
His voice was filled with an unfamiliar warmth.
It was a declaration—the First Sword of the Heretical Path was withdrawing from Hangzhou.
A true eccentric.
Even as he spoke, his sword drew idle lines in the air, and then—
“Oh, fortune smiles upon .”
A faint trajectory appeared where he had swung.
An intangible void, forming a translucent slash in midair.
He glanced at the sky briefly before walking away.
“It would be best if the divine ones acknowledge you quickly.
Unless you wish to lose that left arm forever.”
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
At that mont—
Yeon-shin’s fingers twitched.
Boom—
The path of the sword in the air, the one left by the master of Heavenly Extre Sect, was erased in an instant.
He had combined Qi Manipulation Arts with Martial Spell Breaking, overriding even the lingering echoes of sword techniques.
For a brief mont, the master of Heavenly Extre Sect looked genuinely startled.
“Oh my.”
A single exclamation of admiration.
His large stride carried him into the gap of space itself.
And then—
“I hope your autumn leaves cling tightly to the wind.”
With a faint smile, he vanished.
At the sa ti, a massive golden palm swept over the place where he had stood.
A force radiant as the sun.
Hwooong—!!
A violent storm of dust followed.
An attack aid only at the master of Heavenly Extre Sect.
No explosion, no collision—just a golden imprint that quietly dissipated.
‘A presence from a vast distance.’
Yeon-shin remained focused on his qi circulation.
A force that manipulated qi beyond its user’s physical body—this was beyond his current capabilities.
Could it be Tathagata Divine Palm?
A transcendent technique said to evolve into Thousand-Handed Tathagata Palm upon complete mastery.
Indeed, the aura had traveled from an imnse distance.
But its arrival ant that the one who wielded it had already closed the gap.
In a fleeting instant—
An old monk rose before him.
Whoosh!
“Amitabha.”
A monk, his left eye neatly bound with hemp cloth.
His empty sleeve hung long and still in his robes of faded orange.
For a mont, Yeon-shin felt an overwhelming presence—but the mont the monk’s lone eye landed on his severed arm, the imnse pressure vanished.
Sorrow pooled in the depths of Great Master Wonjeok’s eye.
Like a maple leaf, stained by ti and dust.
“…I am sorry.”
His words were unbearably heavy.
The voice that erged from Great Master Wonjeok’s broad chest was deep and heavy, as if drawn from the depths of a vast ocean—a trait likely honed through Shaolin’s renowned external cultivation.
But even his monk’s robe, once a symbol of spiritual purity, was marred with dried bloodstains. So parts were torn, as if gnawed apart by sothing inhuman.
Even without both arms and one eye, he still stood as an emblem of unshaken perfection—a true sage.
Yeon-shin raised a hand in salute.
The gesture was akin to the half-bow of Shaolin monks.
“There is no reason for to hear an apology from you, Great Master.”
The Shaolin Abbot did not respond.
Yeon-shin simply stood, silent beneath the weight of the Grandmaster’s solemn gaze, finishing the circulation of his qi.
Step.
They now stood face to face.
The guardian of the righteous orthodox sects who oversaw the ‘Gates of Henan.’
In truth, there were villages that conducted prayer ceremonies in his na, wishing for his protection.
Even in Shin Yae-hyeon, where Yeon-shin had once lived, such a ceremony had existed.
A figure like him did not simply appear at an appointed ti and place.
For Great Master Wonjeok to arrive ant all of Henan itself had begun to move.
“…It seems your journey here was not a peaceful one either, Great Master. You must take care of yourself…”
Yeon-shin let his words trail off.
As a child, he had offered prayers to this man from afar, alongside the townsfolk.
Even after all he had seen in the martial world, his reverence for monks and Taoists remained unchanged.
The cultivators he had encountered from the Nine Great Orthodox Sects had all possessed a clarity akin to crystal.
Great Master Wonjeok simply gazed at him, unmoving.
Then, just as he opened his mouth to speak—
Rustle.
Silently, without a trace, a white-clad foot touched the earth.
A woman stood there, dressed in a faintly pink daoist robe, an old sword strapped to her waist.
So of the shattered underbrush around her suddenly regained its green color—a sign of Living Swordsmanship, a state where one's very presence breathes life into the world.
"Yeon-shin."
The soft violet hue in her exhaled breath flickered weakly.
It was the color of her internal energy—the sign that Yulha Nangnang's breathing had faltered.
Yeon-shin deliberately lifted the corners of his lips in a faint smile.
Only now did he suddenly realize—
The very move he had used to push Yulha Nangnang away during the combined assault of the Dark Heaven Emperor and the Celestial Pole Lord—
Might have been a humiliation to her. Might have brought her pain.
"Nangnang."
"Your arm… how did this happen?!"
Her sword-like body, the very embodint of the Sacred Fla Sword Goddess, trembled.
Yeon-shin shook his head.
"We are both still standing. That is enough."
"No. It isn't. I… I should have been faster…"
The Shadow Brand of the Mount Hua Sect's Leader was already impossibly fast.
Even with his Ten-League Radiance, Yeon-shin could not guarantee superiority over her.
It was simply that Hangzhou, a city ford from the fusion of three capitals in the chaotic founding era, was far too vast.
Yeon-shin lowered his body.
Ssshh.
A few strands of his long hair, once draping past his back, scattered in the air.
The remnants of the Celestial Pole Lord’s sword aura still clung to his body.
From the bare muscles of his torso, blood trickled down in a web-like pattern.
“The Supre Sword of the Heretical Path.”
He picked up his severed left arm, slinging it over his shoulder.
With a dull drip, droplets of blood splattered onto the ground.
Yulha Nangnang's gaze visibly quivered.
“…Is no longer in Hangzhou.”
Yeon-shin's voice was calm and unshaken.
The Celestial Pole Lord would never return to this land.
The result of a battle between two absolute swordmasters—
His quiet declaration marked the victor of a duel rare even in the annals of history.
Perhaps it was his words that made them notice—
But suddenly, the gazes of the Nine Great Orthodox Sects' supre masters all turned in unison.
Thump—
A right hand, still radiating a clear, transparent energy, lay on the dirt.
It had collapsed onto the ground like a drunken dancer mid-spin—
Yet the force it emanated chilled the hearts of those who saw it.
Even among the most learned sorcerers, such an artifact would be considered a supre treasure.
It was a sight that no martial master could regard with indifference.
For there was only one aning behind that severed right hand.
Silence.
A deep, heavy silence settled.
Then, from far away—
Sothing tore through the air with a piercing screech—
A long silver object, growing larger by the second.
Yeon-shin raised an eyebrow.
A girl stood atop the spear as it streaked across the sky.
His lips parted.
“Senior.”
The Celestial Spear of Ipwang Fortress—Ak Su-rim.
Her body leaned forward slightly, an unmistakably battle-ready posture.
She was racing through the air at a frightening speed,
As if she had been running using lightfoot technique—
But found it too slow, so she had thrown her spear and leapt onto it instead.
“Your arm! What the hell happened to your arm?! The Divine Healer is supposed to be here, right?! Hey! What the hell were you all doing?! Baldie! Horseface! Move aside!”
In the blink of an eye, she was right in front of him.
Her overwhelming inner force propelled her forward.
And before he could even register °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° it—
She had thrown herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Then, with a whoosh—she spun in place.
It was as if she had tried to lift an immovable tree and failed.
For a fleeting mont, Yeon-shin was hit by a scent buried deep in his childhood mories—
The warmth of his grandmother’s embrace.
But he did not show it.
Boom!
The spear shaft clattered to the ground in the distance.
Though Yeon-shin’s body was exhausted from Guang Taiji’s Dao-Severing Movent,
His balance and center of gravity remained unshaken.
He was not so weak that he would let himself be carried off like baggage.
"Senior Ak."
"Are you okay? Are you really okay? Your face is pale—wait, no, that’s just how you always look."
"I assu His Majesty the Prince of Gungmyeong did not send you here."
“Like I give a damn?”
“……”
Yeon-shin gently lifted her off of him, already considering what ca next.
The forces gathered here were already overwhelming.
But if two supre martial sorcerers and a coiling dragon were added into the mix—
‘Could any human even withstand that?’
But for Ipwang’s Celestial Spear, none of that seed to matter.
As Great Master Wonjeok and Yulha Nangnang watched with different expressions,
Ak Su-rim grabbed Yeon-shin’s remaining arm with her small hands.
“The old man from the Beggars’ Sect is with the Divine Healer right now! I don’t know where that bastard Shin Gaeran crawled out of, but if you lose your turn to that crazy drunkard, you’re screwed! Hurry, we need to—wait…?”
She finally saw the Celestial Pole Lord’s severed right hand.
Her lips parted slightly—
But no words ca.
Above them—
Shaa—
A cold wind swept through the ruined forest.
Fallen leaves and scattered autumn foliage fluttered, overturned, and danced in the air.
Sunlight struck the red and gold canopy, bathing every towering master in an equal glow.
Within that transparent current, countless emotions and thoughts intertwined.
The four of them exchanged a few words—
And then left.
Thus—
As the dam of ti finally burst—
As the faint glow of dusk began to spill over the western horizon—
The turbulence of Jianghu had begun.
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