A chaotic age.
With the descent of the War God and Beijing already fallen, Jeong Yeon-shin, Lord of the Divine Sword Hall, needed to grasp the vast world in its entirety.
The more deeply he could discern who currently held the reins of order in the martial world—and how to confront them single-handedly—the better. Ideally, thoroughly and swiftly.
ntal Sword.
So long as his breath remained steady, Jeong Yeon-shin could now toy with and plunder any sensation. Even now, it was happening.
‘It’s working.’
Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
His vision split like the roots of a tree into a dozen branches, sprinting across the continent. It felt as though countless surface-mirrors were spread out before his eyes.
Hoo―
Cliffs, wild hills, cityscapes—everything flew past like blurry threads. Countless human voices stretched into unintelligible noise in his ears.
A speed that defied the natural order.
―You... this technique...?!
As Yeo Il-shin’s voice scattered dreamlike through his ears, their hands still clasped—
Suddenly, one of the mirror-like visions halted.
In front of a large signboard vividly painted with five tigers. A grand pavilion bearing the image of the Five Tigers.
There was only one place in the martial world like that: the Peng Family of the northern plains.
The family led by Peng Ya, known as the Blade Marquis of the Peng Clan, one of the Five Northern Radiant Masters. Even the previous two generations of clan heads had t their ends at the hands of the Divine Sword Yeoro.
In front of their gate stood a lone archer calmly announcing his presence. A handso man with ears like arrowheads and skin the shade of ash.
“Co out.”
He carried a massive bow slung over his back, and in the leather quiver at his waist, only a single arrow.
He was known to Jeong Yeon-shin.
‘The Faded Noble Clan.’
Successor of the Amya War Hall of the Thirteen Heavens. The son of the Hall Lord Jeong Yeon-shin had slain, alongside Namgung’s Last Blade, during the great battle against Yong Hee-myeong’s Heavenly Net.
Originally captured by the grand lords and imprisoned in the imperial palace dungeons. But prisoners were never held in the Forbidden City. He must’ve escaped the War God’s purge.
Jeong Yeon-shin asked Yeo Il-shin,
―You said that being consud by the World Tree grants regenerative capabilities. Does that include the dantian and all ridians as well?
―Think of it as vampiric. It endlessly absorbs the earth’s energy to sustain eternal growth. Have you ever seen a tree that doesn’t sprout again after its branch is cut?
Just then, the Peng Clan’s gatekeeper cracked the door open.
Usually, a top-tier clan would always have gate guards posted, but it now seed close to being sealed shut—likely due to the clan’s decline and the absence of the Blade Marquis.
“Are you the one we were inford of? The one who could pierce every disciple of the Seomye Martial Line with a single arrow...?”
A Peng Clan swordsman asked from within the doorway.
Rustle.
The last warrior of the Amya War Hall casually rolled his shoulders. A movent resembling full-body energy discharge, preparing for anyone watching from behind.
“Step aside.”
He spoke calmly, like he was already the current Hall Lord of Amya. A gray-skinned archer with only one arrow dangling from his waist.
The gatekeeper furrowed his brow.
“Do you even know where you are? What kind of joke is this? Even if you look extraordinary—”
“He is.”
The words of the current Amya Hall Lord were crisp and clear. Sothing not quite human was imitating a calm, dignified voice.
“He’s watching us.”
“What nonsense is that? State your purpose!”
“Quiet. If I pierce both your cheeks here and now, I’m afraid my only arrow will rust from your blood. This arrow is ant to be stained with others’ blood.”
“Is he really...?”
And at that mont—
Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision closed, like eyelids falling. He couldn’t resist.
‘The World Tree. It reacted quickly.’
But even now, not just one vision remained. It was like a room with walls covered in countless mirrors. An endless unfolding of scenes.
Naturally, Jeong Yeon-shin imrsed himself in another vision.
Fwsh!
A cliff made of tree bark raced in all directions. The entire world was rough wood—no light, only shade as deep as an abyss.
It was the World Tree.
Kugugugugugu―
His vision trembled incessantly. Dust storms rippled like typhoons.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought. Insane.
The World Tree’s roots twisted like a dragon’s body. They moved as if they had feet, headed sowhere unknown. The world itself seed to move.
The most mysterious place in the martial world.
Now, it was bizarre.
―The entrance...! We need to find the entrance!
―I know! I do! But how are we supposed to sense anything when this damn monster tree bounces back all our energy perception?!
Two figures clung to the World Tree’s bark like dots. Clearly experts of the Gecko Technique.
A middle-aged man with long legs. A young man with greasy black hair braided back. Both were familiar to Jeong Yeon-shin—just like the current Hall Lord of Amya.
‘I’ve seen their faces before.’
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
They were top-tier masters of Dream Phantom Moon, one of the Thirteen Heavens. He even knew their nas. The middle-aged one was Je Wi-cheol, Dream Demon of the Nine Provinces. The sleepy-eyed youth was Jo Gwon-il, Phantom God-Slayer.
He rembered reports of their defeat at the hands of Geum Byeok-ja and Ma Jin during the Emperor’s War. Ma Jin had regretted it—saying he would’ve split Jo Gwon-il’s skull in half if their Moon Lord hadn’t stepped in.
Then Jo Gwon-il shouted.
―At this rate, we won’t steal the fruit—we’ll get crushed to death by these roots! After seven days, I’m running out of strength!
Jeong Yeon-shin heard it all clearly. So too Je Wi-cheol’s response.
―There’s no choice. You saw it too, didn’t you? For whatever reason, all four Dharma Guardians are outside right now. If not now, never...
―I can’t keep doing this! Even the Demon-Reversing Ghost Formation’s putting to sleep! And those four freaks aren’t the only ones here! I swear we’re gonna get caught!
―Beyond this... lies the greatest elixir in the world. Will you truly give up?
And then—
“Indeed.”
This ti it wasn’t transmission—it was a real voice. In the midst of the roaring tremors, it rang out strangely clearly, like the sound had been carved into space.
“That is the fruit of omnipotence.”
At that instant, both masters of Dream Phantom Moon stood vertically on the bark. A middle-aged noble swordsman stood in midair just above their heads.
“......”
His long robe, the color of faded autumn leaves, fluttered without end. The hem looked ready to soak into the dark dust.
The World Tree’s Sword Duke.
The atmosphere was different from the last ti they t.
It wasn’t as though he was stepping on air, but as if he were treading on blades of grass—Jeong Yeon-shin had never seen such stable aerial footwork. It didn’t feel like a person, but a still-life.
That was why, all the more, he radiated an overwhelming madness.
The voice that flowed once more from the mouth of the Sword Duke of the World Tree was the sa.
“You are not the first. Do you think only two or three, throughout all of history, have ever coveted our fruit?”
“Chief... Guardian...!”
It was the groan of Je Wi-cheol, Dream Demon of the Nine Provinces, who had now bowed his head vertically.
anwhile, the youth Jo Gwon-il had begun tapping his foot in place. With each tap, the bark beneath them faintly crumbled upward.
A sign of impending escape.
But the Sword Duke of the World Tree’s face remained expressionless. He spoke slowly.
“There is sothing more important.”
Despite the two top-class masters before him, who would pose a threat ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) to anyone, the Sword Duke slowly lifted his gaze toward the sky.
And t Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.
“......”
The eyes of the Chief Guardian of the World Tree now glowed with a dull, mineral green. Like nails dyed with crushed leaves, they had no luster.
“...I have no intention of fighting you to the death. After all, my death shall be the very last to occur in this world.”
He spoke to Jeong Yeon-shin with words whose aning was unclear.
It felt as though the World Tree’s main body had fused with the Sword Duke’s mind.
“If you co, I will gladly give it.”
He continued slowly.
“The fruit.”
He spoke casually of the very thing that had long been Jeong Yeon-shin’s final objective.
But it didn’t co across as a goodwill offering.
In that mont, the darkness swirling behind the Sword Duke’s back rolled like a flood of dust—the tongue of a coiling dragon.
Just what was the fruit of the World Tree, truly?
The mont Jeong Yeon-shin wondered, his vision blacked out once more.
He turned his eyes to another landscape and thought.
Yeo Il-shin. The Amya Hall Lord. The Sword Duke.
Each one had entirely different temperants.
Like branches sprouting from the sa tree, each taking a different shape.
By now, even without seeing, he could guess.
The other noble martial clans had also changed alongside their ascent.
‘Still, I need to see what I must.’
Fwoosh!
A majestic mountain range unfolded.
All the peaks were sheer stone cliffs, each easily over a hundred jang tall.
In the stillness, a vast temple echoed the sound of its great bell down the mountainside.
Dooooong—
The True Way’s foremost sect.
Mount Song’s Shaolin.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision passed above nurous halls, rooftops, and neat-shaven heads.
Stone pagodas containing the relics of countless high monks passed beneath him.
He soared straight to the abbot’s chamber.
On the main wooden floor, two monks sat facing one another.
One had rough-shaven hair and long ears that sprouted like blades of grass.
He sat facing a direction where Jeong Yeon-shin could clearly see his face—a very familiar warrior monk.
“Please grant release now. Even wall-facing ditation wasn’t this hard. How long must I continue seated like this...?”
Master Wonjeok.
One of the Four Diamond Guardians of Shaolin.
Known for ditating facing a wall for a hundred years.
Since the founding of the Ming Dynasty, with the limitations of allocation lifted, he had long protected the monastery.
He was also the Shaolin monk who had shown deep appreciation for Jeong Yeon-shin’s spiritual power.
“My legs are starting to go numb. My upper dantian isn’t like that of Master Bodhidharma, so even enduring with the Sutra of Cleansing has its limits.
And I can’t break precepts of my own accord, so the head abbot must make the decisive call.”
Master Wonjeok concluded briefly.
“Please kill .”
“Not possible.”
An aged voice echoed softly, and Master Wonjeok slowly shook his head.
“Did not Master Uihyeon of the Tang Dynasty once say—‘If you et the Buddha, kill the Buddha’?
By the view that clings to nothing, it is only right that I attain enlightennt here.
Surely you know this too, Abbot?”
“That would only be running away.”
“As things stand, the only disciple of the main temple capable of dealing with is Master Beomryeol of the Infernal Heaven.
Would you stain your disciple’s hands with blood, Abbot?”
“The 108 Arhats surround the monastery.
You should have nothing to trouble your cultivation... Hmm? I thought it strange there were so few incense visitors today...”
Suddenly, the shadow of the armless monk paused his words.
Then, gently leaning his head over Master Wonjeok’s shoulder, he moved with the innocent and serene grace of temple incense.
And then—his face was revealed.
“A precious fate has walked through our gates.”
The one-eyed old monk, Abbot Beomheo of Shaolin, smiled faintly, creases forming on his lips.
Though he was not of the noble clans, his eyes t Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze directly.
By that ti, Jeong Yeon-shin had already deployed the Southern Bright Grand Taiji beneath his feet to disperse his focus.
The reason being, beyond Shaolin, many scenes had begun crumpling into darkness.
‘There’s no ti.’
With a technique like Wudang’s Twin Righteousness Mind Art, he simultaneously focused on every vision that branched out like an old tree.
A thod of forcibly stamping all the varied scenes into his mind.
“Abbot Senior, what is this?”
Just then, a disheveled-haired defrocked monk suddenly appeared and covered all of Mount Song’s scenery with the glare of his eyes.
The next vision—
Beneath a sky where clouds and sunset mingled like paint, a noble-looking Taoist from the noble clans sat cross-legged.
It was Cheong Su-jin, the Twin-Walled Sword Sovereign.
“My spiritual cultivation is lacking.”
He murmured with closed eyes, lips barely moving.
“And so, I beca myself.”
Slowly rising to his feet, the sword at his waist clinked alongside the blue clouds and crimson sunset.
That vast undulation—at the sa ti, Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision snapped shut.
Fwoosh—
Sowhere in the mountains, a vine that had coiled around the ankles of the Sword-Destroying Sect Master burst apart like a bomb.
Another vision faded to black.
And there was more.
Elsewhere, the colossal back of the War God slowly lumbered forward.
Beyond his shoulders, over thirty thousand imperial troops, led by body-protecting energy, charged with thousands of cavalry.
But darker than even the dust waves rolling across the wilderness—
“You’ve co.”
The steam rising pale from the bottle clenched in the War God’s hand.
“You’re doing worse than Hui Pung-ryeong ever did.”
He laughed with his back turned.
“I’ve been waiting for you. The Central Plains is delightful.”
The mont Jeong Yeon-shin heard it, he understood.
The words were ant for him, but the breath from the gourd distorted his vision.
He was nearing his limit.
For the first ti in ages, his upper dantian burned with overheating.
His mind felt like it was on fire, but it would soon cool.
His lifespan wasn’t long now anyway, and his dantian had expanded accordingly.
Excepting the ruins of Suncheon, he may already have reached the pinnacle of the world.
So there was one final thing left to check.
‘The fallen house.’
The heart of Ipwang Fortress.
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