A supre master who poured his life into a single technique.
In other words, one who possesses Unified Martial Power.
Such a being cannot submit to the North King, nor serve beneath his vassals.
Having already attained the level of an absolute being, he must either claim the throne of the North King himself or wander the northern lands alone.
It was the sa principle by which no territory could have two kings. No ruler would willingly allow a dangerous power to dwell near his private chamber.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought:
‘The culture here is different.’
The very notion that one could hold such a master as a Champion General was already a radical break from tradition. It ant becoming invincible as a North King.
Moreover, the Sword Saint had already been counted among the greatest swordsn under heaven.
There had been a ti when he was compared to the Divine Sword Corps Master himself. And even now, just a few exchanges would not be enough to determine a victor.
Naturally, it was no wonder North King Yaryul had abandoned his military camp and rushed out here. But now, standing face-to-face, Jeong Yeon-shin felt at a loss for words.
Wooong—
He first enclosed the area in a wide, translucent barrier of qi.
“Do you recognize ?”
At his question, the Sword Saint nodded.
“The Alliance may be all but dissolved, but thanks to the Zhuge Clan’s intelligence network, I’ve been aware. Of your transformation.”
The old swordsman said this as he gently tapped Jeong Yeon-shin on the shoulder. At so point, he had already returned his iron sword to its scabbard, as if guided by a ghost.
“I also know that I owe my life to your role in bringing down the Lord of Taemo Mountain. The reckless boy has beco a man. While I, shafully, have beco an old man.”
“Your current self is what I aspire to, sir.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke sincerely. The old swordsman, now in command of his years, appeared anything but worn or broken.
Rather, his entire presence was wrapped in a gravity that only ti could bestow, like a rare treasure Jeong Yeon-shin had never possessed in his youth.
“...How pitiful.”
The Sword Saint, Hyun So-baek, quickly blinked away the redness from his eyes. Just like the day he had first recognized Jeong Yeon-shin’s unique constitution.
The old swordsman still had a soft heart.
“Yet you've beco far too great a figure for this old man to rely pity. Co here—may I give you a hug?”
At the Murim Alliance once, he had embraced Jeong Yeon-shin without asking.
Though Jeong Yeon-shin no longer rode the wild winds of adolescence, he still felt oddly shy and diverted the topic.
“It’s a relief to see you still strong and healthy. I wish I could show you my face, but I ask your forgiveness—I seem to be under constant watch wherever I go...”
“You seem uneasy. Still, I’ve heard whispers of that appearance. North King Yaryul. Quite the dangerous identity, isn’t it?”
“You’re not surprised?”
At his question, the Sword Saint smiled gently.
“I’ve seen far stranger things. Even if you asked now to beco a vassal under the North King, I wouldn’t be shocked.”
“Please beco my Champion General.”
“......”
At those calmly spoken words, silence fell completely over the area. The Sword Saint slowly closed his mouth. For the first ti in a long while, Jeong Yeon-shin felt nervous.
It was a proposal he could make only because he now considered himself the acting Master of the Divine Sword Corps.
He placed duty above pride and reputation.
The silence dragged on.
***
A massive stone chamber at midday.
Though its ceiling was wide open, the interior was steeped in cold darkness. Not from the northern wind—but from the lingering effects of martial power.
“Beneath the God of War, the Southern Emperor... they say he can summon night with a single punch. Seems the rumors were not exaggerated. A martial art that drives away sunlight. What mystery lies behind it?”
An old beggar in patched robes muttered to himself. In this mont, he seed deeply imrsed in the dusky air.
Then ca a voice—deep and resonant—filling the chamber. There was no one else visible besides the old beggar.
Only one thing was certain.
Just as the northern martial registry ranked assassination targets, the Southern Emperor topped the kill list drawn up by the Ming imperial court. With the God of War now vanished, he was the strongest man in the North.
[Leader of the southern beggars... You’re as fearless as our Divine Assassin.]
The voice shattered the air like breaking frost. A ray of sunlight pouring down from the sky suddenly turned into dark smoke.
It slowly descended into the chamber through the open ceiling, thickening the surrounding gloom.
A disruption of heaven’s natural order.
Though it was just a single sentence, it carried the power of a supre sound technique.
Those versed in the history of Jianghu might compare it to Seomye of Lotus Appearance’s Sword School. And the one hearing it now—Beggar Chief Jоо Gwang-shin—was one of those very people.
“......”
His eyes quivered slightly—but only for a mont. Then the old beggar let out a hearty laugh.
“A lucky day! To shake off the Four Kings of Dragon Resonance, only to arrive at the dwelling of the North’s strongest? I sensed a strange resonance between that woman and this place, so I followed the feeling—and I imagine even the grand sect leaders would nod in agreent today.”
[The wind’s path must be changed. Your words are helpful. Speak more.]
“Curious who might agree? Don’t be shocked. The heads of the Nine Great Sects! This old beggar’s tongue may have long scared off the big dogs of the martial world, but their skills rival even the northern kings...”
The Southern Emperor, steeped in shadow, listened in silence until Jоо Gwang-shin finished, then spoke again.
[You plan to flee south? I know your footwork surpasses even the fad Southern Five Swords.]
“It’s the Five Heavenly Swords.”
[A lesser na than the Six Star Lords. At least around here.]
“You an the six exceptional North Kings? I heard you and Bukdo were counted among them... Bold of you to claim that. But truth be told, your na is barely known in our Jianghu.”
[So you're ignorant of this side of the world. Then you’ll have a hard ti fending off our ambush. Useful insight. Speak more.]
Words that sent a chill up Jоо Gwang-shin’s spine.
He was being analyzed, piece by piece.
The Southern Emperor wasn’t arrogant. Everything he said was rooted in fact—each word carefully laid out for a single, overwhelming victory.
The old beggar fell silent for a mont. Then suddenly stomped the ground hard. It was to initiate the propulsion wave of his light footwork.
Boom!
But the dust stirred up by his step was imdiately swallowed by the darkness within the chamber.
Even the shockwave’s rebound shattered in an instant—it was a space that permitted no escape techniques.
Unified Martial Power.
The Southern Emperor's Unique Power.
A technique that had no warning.
From Jоо {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Gwang-shin’s legs ca a deep vibration—ku-gu-goong—the sound of protective qi collapsing.
“......!”
The ultimate dominion created by the North’s strongest man.
Not a single soul who had glimpsed its secrets had survived. A unified force of offense and defense.
[You are the world’s greatest master of body techniques. Of course I do not expect to take you alive. That’s why your words now are so precious.]
A forced smile tugged at the corners of Jоо Gwang-shin’s wrinkled mouth.
“...They say the God of War’s right hand never leaves anything to chance. And now you’ve even considered my footwork. I suppose you also know that this beggar is about to turn tail and run?”
[Of course. I also know that if I break your legs, your movent skills will an nothing.]
“As if that would ever happen. Even if the Sword Tyrant Ma Yeon-jeok were to be reborn younger and stronger, he’d struggle to manage that. And you think you—?”
Crack.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
Jоо Gwang-shin casually rotated his ankle, ready to provoke. Fortunately, a response ca.
[I was curious about that man as well. I would’ve liked it if you brought him to .]
“Believe —if you saw his Unified Martial Power, you wouldn’t be so calm. That’s no bluff. It’s the plain truth...”
[I’ll rember that. Anything else to say? I’m listening. Hm...? Looks like another beggar just sprouted a tail.]
The Southern Emperor cut him off with a mutter. Jоо Gwang-shin’s grin deepened.
“Caught, huh? One of the Ming Imperial Court’s Three Great Masters. That’s why I ntioned rebirth earlier. Never before in the history of Jianghu has such a concentration of strength existed—and I must take advantage of these tis...”
Just then, the voice of a boy—sharp and young—ca rushing in on a beam of sunlight.
“Move!”
It activated imdiately—no hesitation, no delay. An Imperial Palace Unified Martial Power.
From the high sky above.
A boy, no older than eight, stood floating in full-body armor, obscuring the sun.
Even his helt shone with the red-gold crest of imperial nobility. He twisted his waist like a spear-thrower preparing to launch, arm fully extended behind him.
[Heaven’s Heart Scatters One Feather.]
The unique intention of a supre master overflowed from him in echoes.
In the sa mont, the sunlight above converged into a spear-like beam—and with an explosive ring, a circular shockwave erupted from the child’s hand and plumted into the chamber.
KAAAAAA-BOOOOM—!
The surrounding earth flipped like a tidal wave, turning the landscape hazy in every direction. A deafening rumble scraped the atmosphere as far as the eye could see.
The wave of energy from that vertical spear of light rippled outward—sunlight shimring like a tide.
The Imperial Martial Lord Eo Ung-gong’s Unified Martial Power did not end with one strike.
An unending barrage.
Sunlight shockwaves rained relentlessly into the chamber, shaking the surroundings with quakes and spiderweb cracks spreading far and wide.
The field was becoming a crater.
KIIIIIIIIIII—
A piercing frictional shriek rose from the condensed pillar of radiance.
And yet... from within the intact stone chamber ca the Southern Emperor’s low, amused laughter.
***
The giant mountain, with cities embedded along its mid-slopes.
From afar, the roar of a beast echoed routinely through the sky. It was a place where, quite literally, a growling vibration spread faintly like thunder beyond the clouds.
Whenever that happened, small children would scurry toward houses with dark, sharp-angled rooftops.
Their dwellings were full of curves, with sharply raised roof edges—an aesthetic both unnaturally ornate and aggressively martial, blending well with the rugged mountain terrain.
Gwanghon Mountain.
So, overwheld by its sheer scale, referred to it as the Gwanghon Mountain Range—particularly the Han people who ca from distant lands.
A trendously deep gorge ran alongside it, but no water flowed. The ochre-colored soil lay bare. It wasn't a valley—it was simply dry, raw land.
Only the cold air clung thickly.
That was no different in Honmyeol, one of the cities of Gwanghon Mountain.
Matching its peculiar na, people watched the group entering the city's gates with hollow, wary stares.
“They’re staring daggers,” murmured a girl in a grey windcloak, her robe billowing loosely like a bow’s arc.
She was just tall enough to reach the shoulder blades of the Northern King Yaryul walking a step ahead of her. Her silver mask concealed her face, with her jawline flowing smoothly toward a round chin, and round ears tucked close on either side.
By all appearances, she was a Han.
She was Shin So-bin, currently using the alias Lord Cheongeuk.
“Just look at yourself. Isn’t that the outfit of so fugitive from the south of Beijing? It’s textbook runaway attire.”
So said Lord of Hocheonseong, a middle-aged swordsman in a mask, scolding her.
But Shin So-bin didn’t bother replying. She never had—from the beginning of the journey until now.
Even so, Lord of Hocheonseong hadn’t once tried to assert himself through force.
All his attention had been fixed on the old swordsman walking beside the Northern King Yaryul.
The old man had barely introduced himself, mumbling and dodging the question—and yet here he was, having followed them all the way to the Gwanghon Range, despite the presence of two Northern Kings.
Lord of Hocheonseong narrowed his brow as he glanced at the elder.
‘Is he really a Great Warrior?’
He moved like a vagabond, his single iron sword rattling at his waist. His body was pitifully thin.
He’d clearly suffered severe hardship or had gone long without food.
But his level was impossible to read.
A lightning-fast stream of thought flashed through Lord of Hocheonseong’s mind.
‘Few martial artists can reach such depth in the Reversal Return thod. If he’s from the South and still dares co this far North, the only possible ones are the Blood Fla Commander of Ipwang Fortress, the Resonance Spirit Lord, or maybe the pri disciple of Hyeongsan. Among the elders of the great sects who maintain the Three Flower Harmonization, there are barely any left—so where did they find this man?’
But those unanswerable questions aside, their purpose here was singular.
Southern conquest.
Geographically north of the Great Wall, yes—but in the context of the vast Northern martial realm, it was the southern territory, ho to the likes of the Sha King and the Four Kings of Dragon Resonance, including four Northern Kings.
Lord of Hocheonseong had asked multiple tis out of disbelief, but it had been confird as true.
Most other lords had long aligned themselves with one of the existing Northern Kings. But here was a new king, and the chance to bask in supre influence beside him had drawn them in.
Still, Lord of Hocheonseong offered one last piece of advice.
“...You ought to reconsider. Since the fall of the Fla God King, the other Northern Kings have avoided this land. You seed to understand just how dangerous it is.”
Only then did the slow voice of Northern King Yaryul erge from behind his silver mask.
“I rely stayed for a while. But there are those for whom staying becos no different from retreating. I’ve lingered long enough.”
It was a calm confession.
Lord of Hocheonseong had already distanced himself slightly from the group. His steps now subtly slowed, moving in a natural transition between forward and backward movent.
‘In a stormy world, you need to pick the right line to stand in.’
He was a master of survival.
Whether it was when he was struck by the lightning-speed Yi Gi Yu Geom of the acting Danju of the Divine Sword Sect, or now, standing at the brink of confrontation with another Northern King’s forces.
Fwoooosh—
The mountain city’s entrance had filled with onlookers.
More Yozoku—pale-skinned and scarred—than Han or Ming people.
[Look, children of Gwanghon Mountain.]
A dark energy blotted out part of the blue sky as if pushing it aside.
It was undoubtedly qi gathered by human internal energy—but its presence resembled a storm cloud following a flood dragon.
[The inept Northern King has finally abandoned even his own camp and co here. I am a lord serving the King of Dragon Resonance, a Great Warrior, and I now question whether this man deserves the title of Northern King.]
The voice echoed through the land with overwhelming force, thanks to an absurdly massive concentration of inner energy constantly resonating at Six Harmonies Perfection level.
Crack—
A tall boy stepped through the grass.
With a voice that seed to echo from a deep cave, his imposing figure erged.
Through the tendrils of black smoke curling around him, a pair of golden-yellow eyes glead. The pupils were long and narrow, like spears from the North.
His form was flawless, like soone who had shed their skin several tis. His porcelain-like skin glowed with perfection.
His na was Geomdan.
A lord and Great Warrior known, like the Danju of the Divine Sword Sect, for having the Half-Dragon Body.
Behind him, further back, sat his Northern King—lounging atop the shoulder of a massive statue in the city’s center, cradling a warhorse in her arms. That must be the King of Dragon Resonance.
By now, Lord of Hocheonseong had subtly positioned himself where her gaze wouldn’t reach.
Perhaps it was because Northern King Yaryul had refrained from acting until now.
The King of Dragon Resonance didn’t seem to care what Geomdan did.
Had there been any real belief in the laws set by the Martial God, she would never have allowed a subordinate like Geomdan to approach Yaryul directly.
[How shall we honor this man?]
Geomdan looked around at the commonfolk as he asked. As a symbol of his king’s authority, and sotis treated as her equal, his presence commanded their attention.
Then—
Before Yaryul could reply, the old swordsman beside him stepped forward. Geomdan imdiately followed up.
[Is the old man the Great Warrior?]
“Let’s have a bout.”
[You’re unreadable. A true master.]
At that mont, Geomdan’s body was enveloped in black smoke. The imnse force within clashed against itself, creating crackling static.
It resembled the ultimate thunderbolt summoned by Seomye’s Enlightened Manifestation.
[I am the younger, so I’ll move first.]
Geomdan’s left foot whipped through the air like a lash.
A beat later, a black shockwave burst from his heel. The trajectory of his movent trembled subtly five or six tis in a blink.
A mighty strike, faster than sound, with variable footwork laced within it.
The old swordsman’s hand rose up in an instant.
CRAAANG!
His hand struck Geomdan’s ankle directly and morphed into a sharp knife-hand.
He simultaneously sliced the Yongcheon Point of Geomdan’s sole before it could fully rise—ripping through translucent defensive energy with a tearing sound—then swung his hand outward beside the now-exposed leg.
Whoooosh—
A faint blade-like wind burst forth.
In that instant, Geomdan was flung backward, still in mid-kick, swept away by the sword wind. The howling sound of a typhoon ca only after.
From within the pale blade wind, a crackling noise rose from his skin like roasting beans.
“You’re too young. It’s hard to go all out against you.”
The old man clasped his hands behind his back and asked,
“King Yaryul, did I overstep?”
“You did not.”
Northern King Yaryul replied.
His tone and manner were strangely unfamiliar, as if dealing with a stranger. It was also like a manor lord hosting a guest far above his station. He then added, as if clarifying,
“May I ask what martial art that was?”
“Of course. The Three Essence Sword Art. The origin of all sword techniques under heaven. It can be perford not just with blades, but with hands and feet as well.”
“I see.”
Before anyone realized, Lord of Hocheonseong had taken position behind Northern King Yaryul, standing straight.
This was the rising faction of the new Northern King.
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