The cliff trembled once.
The martial artists under Bright Wing Lord halted briefly in the midst of their headlong sprint up the jagged rock face. Among them was Shin So-bin, her feet planted vertically on the sheer cliff wall.
She tilted her head just slightly to avoid the cascading dust, her long braided hair swaying like a soft whip alongside a white stream of energy. She flicked her blue sleeve sharply.
"That just now..."
"It was Radiant Wheel of the Flying Art."
The terse voice ca from a man passing by Shin So-bin—Na Il-cheon of the Blood Blade Division. A blue-clad master with pale skin who had once served under Jin Myeong-jo in the Blood Reinforcent Unit.
He had been so tall that even Jeong Yeon-shin, during his days as the Bright Wing Lord, had hesitated to slide over a dish to him at als.
"If Il-cheon sensed it, then it's accurate."
Cheongmyeong, the one-eyed master cloaked in black, lowered his small voice downward. He was far above the others.
With footwork reminiscent of Ten-League Lightstep, the distance between him and the group gradually widened. He was speeding ahead alone, seemingly abandoning his subordinates.
Cheongmyeong’s observation was nothing new. Those who had trained in the Blood Reinforcent Unit were unusually sensitive to spiritual energy.
Murmurs rose among the Bright Wing warriors.
"Who do you think it is?"
"Either soone from the North, or the Head Master of Wudang."
"Why would Lord Jeong even clash with the Wudang leader? There’s nothing to gain from that. The top masters of the Great Sects don’t keep their butts planted for no reason. Whether you win or lose, it’s a ss."
"How’s winning a problem?"
"Unless the process was remarkably clean, the relationship between sects will fray. It becos difficult to cooperate down the line. Even if the involved parties are willing, their disciples rarely are. Not that Wudang is guaranteed to react that way. But more likely, Lord Jeong clashed with soone from the North."
"We still need to consider the Wudang Head Master. There’s a rumor that his decade-long seclusion was due to deviation."
Crack!
They resud their climb.
But they weren’t using Wall Gecko Technique—they were scaling the cliff purely with the secrets of Lightness Skill.
Each step left behind a pale gleam—evidence of their mastery in applying the principle of Radiant Clarity to all martial disciplines.
None among them wore white.
The white-clad warriors had been sent back to the base along with the returned sword unit. Apart from Cheongmyeong, everyone was dressed in blue.
"Those kids are way too relaxed."
One-ard Oh Wol-hyang glanced downward as she spoke.
Far below the Bright Wing warriors—
Rumble, rumble—
The beasts of the Incomprehensible Legion were galloping up the cliff face. They were far behind, yet the weight of their approach shook the cliff with a heavy force.
From their massive hooves ca a chilling vibration that rippled upward with eerie regularity—an image completely detached from common sense.
The atmosphere remained indifferent.
‘This movent is insane. Unless those horses have mastered Lightness Skill...’
Far above, Shin So-bin spoke quietly as she leaned her upper body forward, racing upward with Ten-League Lightstep.
Among the Bright Wing warriors, she possessed the densest application of Radiant Clarity in her propulsion technique.
"That directory—whoever compiled it knew this martial world far too well. If they understand this land that intimately, even the Northern forces wouldn't dare to underestimate our Lord... no, I an Lord Jeong. Whatever the reason, they must be certain there’ll be no direct clash."
"That directory."
Na Il-cheon, sprinting above her along the cliff, asked:
"Who was listed second?"
A aningful question.
The first line, of course, had to be the Lord of Ipwang Fortress. But the second... that was the person the Northern martial world truly considered the most dangerous figure alive.
The most active of all supre masters. It wouldn't be wrong to say they were the strongest in the current age.
Sword Corps Commander Yong Hui-myeong.
Or perhaps soone else.
For the warriors of Ipwang Fortress, it had to be the forr. Even those aware of the rejuvenated form of Ma Yeon-jeok, the Wild Tyrant, would agree.
The Black Sword of Headquarters could not—and should not—be in that directory.
In truth, it wasn’t just the second na.
The entire directory was a point of obsession. Of course it was. Jeong Yeon-shin stood at a peak far beyond countless others.
Only the urgency of the present situation had pushed it temporarily out of mind.
That booklet was already tucked inside Shin So-bin’s robes, yet Jeong Yeon-shin, hidden from their sight, was releasing energy. They needed to fix their eyes on him.
Shin So-bin hesitated mid-sprint.
"That part was strange. Starting from the fourth na, the text got fuzzy—almost like it was imbued with spiritual essence. Looks like you need significant achievent in sensory technique to read it clearly."
"Lord, look there!"
Suddenly, Wi Ye-ryeong of the April Palace Guard called out. Cheongmyeong, sprinting alone far above, jerked his head in her direction, following her gaze as she continued:
"Imperial martial arts!"
A ridge stretched out sideways.
A figure was sprinting along it, heading toward the sa location as the Bright Wing warriors. Despite being barely visible at that distance, their speed was monstrous.
They were visibly closing in on the area where the Wudang Daoists were expected to gather.
"What the hell is that?"
Boom!
Bright Wing Lord Cheongmyeong blasted off, shattering the rock wall as he soared upward.
"See you there, you damn turtles."
His soft-spoken words floated down the cliffside like a breeze. Yet the monstrous herd of beasts, including those with strength rivaling Cheongmyeong’s, showed no reaction.
There was only silence.
***
The Head Master.
Undoubtedly the summit of the martial world.
In the realm of Softness Overcoming Hardness, he was said to be unrivaled.
They called him an old immortal who could deflect even ten-thousand-jin of brute strength as if brushing away a feather. His skill wasn’t limited to swordsmanship—it extended to palm techniques and body arts as well.
‘They say his title itself signifies reaching the peak of Immortal Dao martial arts.’
But now, things were different.
"To wager a disciple’s life as a bargaining chip... It does not sound right coming from a master. You’ll have to understand."
A voice dry with age.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
No calm face like clouds drifting through the distant sky. His wrinkled skin carried a raw madness, and the steps he took toward Jeong Yeon-shin pulsed with absolute might.
The nearby grass disintegrated of its own accord. The earth cracked audibly underfoot.
Doom—doooom—
A deep resonance rose as if from the depths of an abyss.
This wasn’t so awakening—it was just his walking. Yet the ground and air trembled as if quaking in fear.
‘His energy is dense.’
Jeong Yeon-shin felt the vibration pierce from the soles of his feet through every acupoint in his body. It was close to a penetrative shock. At this point, it could easily disrupt even the flow of internal energy.
Given his long-standing possession deviation, he shouldn’t be in top form. Yet his prowess was beyond belief.
The battle had already begun.
Even if one exchange concluded with a victor, the next would always be uncertain in a clash between masters. The first task was to ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) read each other’s rhythm.
Jeong Yeon-shin gave the Pine Gate Sword a light kick.
KAAAARGH!
The grotesque demon pinned into the earth shrieked.
But that was all. Jeong Yeon-shin had already reabsorbed the energy stored within the blade.
A blinding white bolt crossed the sky and was sucked into his palm, forming the shape of a long sword with a thunderous roar.
Shhhhh—
Fragnts of Radiant Wheel of the Flying Art scattered like snowflakes as Yeoroi erged. Clutched entirely in Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand, it emitted a deep, resonant hum—the blade cry more intense than ever.
The energy radiating from him nearly clawed into the hilt of the Pine Gate Sword.
"Why?"
He asked the sword softly—then flinched inwardly.
He worried he might look mad.
"....."
Yet at that mont, not a single soul in the gathering looked at him with renewed curiosity. A relief. Jeong Yeon-shin could focus solely on the Grandmaster, without compromising the dignity of his proxy status as Division Commander.
The Grandmaster spoke evenly.
"You brought up a wager. Then I shall offer a proposal as well. If the Sword of Frequency defeats you, keep to your word all the sa."
"I will."
"You seem confident. Have you gained the power of the Three Purities?"
"I’m not sure yet."
"You will be."
Those words rang out directly in front of Jeong Yeon-shin. The Grandmaster had closed the distance by a single step. Not with a sword, but at close quarters—unard combat range. Jeong Yeon-shin’s brow furrowed.
—Jeounjong, when linked with Seven Star Stance, becos a movent rare in the world. These n have no need for Displacent Technique.
He recalled Xin Cheon-hwa’s advice.
Now he understood clearly. It had been one of the final things Xin Cheon-hwa’s pri soul told him—just before she vanished from the world, back when he departed Ipwang Fortress for Wudang Mountain.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand blurred.
Boom!
A shockwave exploded. Their palms clashed against each other’s chests. The burst of radial air currents flattened the surrounding grass in every direction.
Both had used internal compression techniques, yet even the ground, saturated with the spiritual energy of Wudang Mountain, gave way with a heavy thud.
The density of their inner force was on another level.
This was a battle at the absolute summit of the martial world.
Unlike their first clash, Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind was perfectly clear. That alone changed everything—starting with his very first follow-up move.
Fla of the Fist.
Shadows of his hands stirred violent winds as they surged forth like a storm cloud. The second form of the Flowerless Ultimate Hand. Each afterimage spiraled with vortex currents and converged on the Grandmaster’s abdon.
The strike—
Each shadow carried a touch of reinforced internal energy.
Rrrrrrrrummmble!
A muffled roar echoed.
The Black Jade Solitary Garnt, a protective inner energy technique passed down solely to Wudang’s Head Master, was breaking apart from the inside.
In that instant, the Grandmaster used the underside of his palm like a battering ram and slamd Jeong Yeon-shin under the chin.
Boom!
Jeong Yeon-shin was flung straight upward.
There was no softness in that palm technique. It was ferocious and unrelenting.
“Kh...”
Shards of light—fragnts of the robes worn by the Tang siblings—fluttered across his vision as a brutal wave of shock tore through his mind.
But Jeong Yeon-shin kept his focus sharp.
His defensive energy wasn’t shattered. In fact, he had rebounded part of the force back into the Grandmaster’s palm with reactive elasticity.
"How...?"
The Grandmaster uttered, briefly and curiously. Every strike and counter had connected in a perfect, seamless circle.
At that mont, Jeong Yeon-shin was floating in midair, and he swung Yeoroe.
The entire sequence of sword forms unfolded with the speed of Unpredictable Shift.
Sword Thunder—Annihilation of Peaks
Nine Jades Beco a River
Kuuuuuuuuuuhm—!
Like a surging river, Yeoroe ca crashing down.
It cleaved through the instant. A sword strike that had accumulated pressure to its limit in just two exchanges.
And it wasn’t just the speed—it defied martial logic in its linkage. Every motion Jeong Yeon-shin made left behind a heavy mirage, like a moth's fluttering wings.
He even turned the recoil of changing forms into driving force.
He transcends so naturally...!
Even the Grandmaster had no choice but to raise his sword this ti, and as the two blades collided, thunder cracked and the mist over Wudang Mountain split in two.
The grotesque demon pinned to the earth by the Pine Gate Sword thrashed violently. It should’ve been blown away, yet the blade held it fast to the ground.
Fwaaaaaaaaaaash!
Through the torn clouds, a massive straight line streaked across the sky. The clash of sword strikes had carved a path into the heavens.
It was clear.
The formula of Sword Thunder—Annihilation of Peaks was no longer simply striking against Wudang’s sword—it was breaking free of it entirely.
That, too, is as it should be.
Jeong Yeon-shin laid eyes upon Sam Bong the True One.
A vision as dazzling as the sun for the rare few with extraordinary perception—a spectral image of the Furious Daoist. A perfect being, in every sense.
In this world, only a handful could cause such painful brilliance in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.
Perhaps only the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, having shed the powers of the Natural Sword, and the fabled Martial God of the North whose na spread through rumor.
That was where he stood now. Where he had to stand.
Regardless...
Even if the aura fell far short of Xin Cheon-hwa’s pri, the body was undoubtedly Zhang Sanfeng’s.
And for Jeong Yeon-shin, the strength of the energy wasn’t the point.
The vital structures and physical forms of those who lived intense lives were an endless source of inspiration. And so, Jeong Yeon-shin had—for a brief mont—seen his own aged self clearly, through the permission of the ancient Pine Gate Sword.
Shfff.
That was why, when he landed lightly on the ground again, his expression remained calm. In contrast, shock had taken root on the faces of everyone present like never before.
Three exchanges.
That was the ti it took for the Grandmaster, his legs rooted in the earth, to open his mouth again.
"Let’s take a short rest."
"......!"
"My old body’s aching."
Was it an illusion? His aged voice had cleared slightly. Despite no internal energies being exchanged, the winter wind seed to settle into quiet.
"As you wish."
Jeong Yeon-shin responded calmly. At that sa mont, a voice from the North echoed in his senses.
[That Cheong Yeom possesses a peculiar ability.]
On ground wrapped in a bluish Taiji pattern, like a soft carpet, with sparks of deep blue occasionally rising—
Fwoosh—
Jeong Yeon-shin’s violet robe flared sharply, just like Ma Yeon-jeok’s.
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