Jeong Yeon-shin, a man of Hanam. His hotown was Yangyang.
It had long been since all counties had been replaced by Shinyeohyeon, and the periter of the fortress itself was the Sword Circle of the Divine Sword Corps Leader.
And the enormous river cutting across the northern section of the city, the river wind dyed pale green pushing against the brick body of Yangyang Fortress—its gusts constantly rattled the signboard of the gate known as Imhanmun.
It was easily over a hundred and ten li from the heart of Ipwang Fortress, but to Jeong Yeon-shin, who had decided to move, it was no different than his own bedroom.
He arrived in a single step.
Hoo—
As he stepped onto a feather-like cloud, resistance like a puddle of water caught against the sole of his leather shoe. It was Air-Stepping—the technique of fixing the energy in the Yongcheon Acupoint of his foot into the void to seize control over movent.
As soon as he spun one of his inner halos, the faint bell toll ringing near his ears grew heavier. Under the antique roof of Imhanmun, a young gatekeeper was seen swinging a hamr at the bell.
Dooong— Doooong—
Two tolls rang out in repetition. It was a signal to flee as far as possible, ideally all the way to Ipwang Fortress.
A brave man, indeed.
For within the gates, a different world was already unfolding.
“Run! Hurry!”
“A Myung Clan mber!”
“Heavens, I saw the Shaolin Abbot with my own eyes...!”
Those sprinting away without looking back were commoners. Those lining the rooftops and along the long fortress walls were martial artists who had been loitering outside Yangyang.
Compared to the usual flow of people through the northern gate, only a few remained on the main road. These were the ones who first entered Jeong Yeon-shin’s sight.
The Heavenly Tree and Shaolin...
The Myung Clan in gleaming green silk robes, glinting like leaves in sunlight. An antique carriage.
And a monk with both sleeves hanging loose, utterly empty.
A standoff ford between both sides.
The old monk's presence felt like incense filling a shrine. The Myung Clan mbers, in contrast, stood like tree roots untouched by even a storm. In martial theory, it was the difference between Movent Within Stillness and Absolute Immovability.
As Jeong Yeon-shin studied the old monk, the Abbot Beomha, he saw through the state of the Myung Clan mbers.
A Harmonized Myung Clan mber.
Unbelievably powerful.
Having allowed their minds to be devoured by the Heavenly Tree, they gained imnse power. The earth’s energies and spiritual essence that the tree had absorbed over hundreds of years had now been returned to them.
Unconsciously, Jeong Yeon-shin muttered like Hyeon Won-chang once did:
“No different from thieves.”
Unless one had trained in Jeong Family’s Donggong and mastered Gwangye Scripture under the Divine Sword Corps, no sect could match them in group battle.
Even the carriage radiated a divine aura reminiscent of emperors past. No concealnt could hide that.
And oddly enough, the door to the carriage was hard to spot. It looked like no one was ever ant to get out. Whoever was inside had been sealed in.
I feel ancient tree rings from the upper danjeon. This is overwhelming ti itself.
To stop a being like that without harming the commoners, he’d have to launch Namhwa Grand Tai Chi in a surprise strike, followed by multiple hits of Mouth-to-Moon Technique. Even then, it’d be best to avoid fighting in Yangyang at all.
So Jeong Yeon-shin decided to wait and watch.
In the center of both factions—
Where two more figures stood, facing each other.
Thud—
A blunt shockwave seeped beneath the ground. It had co from the straw sandals of a disrobed monk. But strangely, there was no aftermath. Just a wind laced with a hint of dry dust sweeping out.
“The sa words again, huh.”
Said the disrobed monk.
“Just as we cannot define patrons' Buddha-nature based on their Myung Clan attire, the Four Great Vajras of Original Silence do not belong to the Heavenly Tree.”
He had six monk rings stamped on his forehead, but his greasy hair flowed down past his shoulders. His robe—or what used to be one—was tattered to the point it was unclear whether it was a kasaya or just old fabric. at broth stains were splattered all over.
Yet, he stood with his back to the forr number-one orthodox sect master, Abbot Beomha.
In other words, he represented Shaolin.
Hell Reversal (Jiokcheon), Beom-ryeol.
The na flashed through Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind, recalled from the intelligence he had once spied through the Heavenly Tree’s eyes.
Back then, Beom-ryeol had instantly sensed the Heavenly Tree’s gaze and stared back like a ghost, piercing Jeong’s perception.
Even though the Shaolin Temple had a gate at Mount Song, the constant flow of visitors was due to this man’s presence.
He had been inside.
And the Harmonized Myung Clan mber now standing before Beom-ryeol was an incredibly youthful man.
“N-no... I didn’t an the monk was our tree’s property. I just ant...”
A gold light, pulsing like lightning, rippled across his robe. Instead of pupils, his eyes held golden orbs. His appearance struck Jeong Yeon-shin as both familiar and alien.
He exuded sheer pressure.
As if he were lightning itself.
Senior Geumbyeok.
In a split second, Jeong Yeon-shin simulated the battle in his upper danjeon and realized: unless he cloaked himself in the Formless Sword of Starry Night, he couldn’t win with just a blade. The overwhelming electric power distorted any blade path forged of tal.
Unless the Divine Sword Corps Leader used his full arsenal, he couldn’t prevail. The strength of the Four Great Guardians of Harmonization rivaled that of the Five Heavenly Swords.
“W-wait. Huh? If you put it that way, that monk might suffer internal damage, right? I an, he’s a high monk from Shaolin...”
Geumbyeok from the Heavenly Tree stamred in confusion, like he was talking to soone far older than himself.
“Ugh, enough! I’m going to sleep, okay?”
Watching the bizarre behavior, Jeong Yeon-shin thought, Ah, he's completely sane.
Beom-ryeol shook his head.
“The disciples of Heaven-Eye Pavilion said Geumbyeok and Bukmyeong Gwonhu among the Four Great Guardians are not to be dealt with... I’ll take my leave.”
Ssshhk.
Before finishing his words, he scattered like fog over a pier and then reappeared at Abbot Beomha’s side like a mirage.
Is that the Vajra Unmoving Body Technique...?
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
It was as if his entire body had beco the Buddha’s palm, manipulating space and ti at will. The movent was so short and light it escaped human perception. Like he’d beco a monster after purging monsters within the gate.
“Senior Abbot, I’ll be departing now.”
Beom-ryeol’s voice was calm, but it carried a quiet arrogance. He could leave for any place, any ti, at will.
Abbot Beomha smiled faintly.
“As you will.”
Beom-ryeol then embraced the Abbot’s waist and spoke to Geumbyeok:
“For even the patrons of the Heavenly Tree to have stepped into Yangyang, this may be the only chance to et the Divine Sword Corps Leader. His worldly fa is considerable... and I hear he has many grudges as well.”
“Huh?”
As Geumbyeok tilted his head, Jeong Yeon-shin also frowned internally. He’d never made enemies in the Central Plains.
Did I miss a few heads?
In that instant, Beom-ryeol’s figure blurred together with Abbot Beomha’s. They glided across Yangyang’s main road like early-morning fog, freezing ti and space in their wake.
Saaahhh—
Even watching with his own eyes, Jeong Yeon-shin almost missed their movent. If Beomha’s palm strike had the weight of a temple bell, Beom-ryeol’s speed made him seem freer than a dragon among thunderclouds.
A new martial world had arrived.
And right as their trajectory flashed in golden streaks—Geumbyeok cut them off.
Zzzzzt!
Both sides bounced back, leaving behind scorched trenches.
Beom-ryeol stomped again.
The golden lightning fragnts and razor-edged airwaves flying up from the impact fell harmlessly to the ground. Many of the fleeing citizens fell to their knees, trembling.
Abbot Beomha stepped down from Beom-ryeol’s arms and bowed to the civilians.
“I take refuge in Avalokiteshvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion....”
“I’m sorry.”
Geumbyeok’s apology could have been to Shaolin, or to the civilians—it was hard to tell.
At that mont, the Harmonized Myung Clan glided in like a spring breeze. Even the sandalwood carriage had moved on its own.
Another standoff.
How many tis had this pattern repeated?
So commoners stood trembling, hugging their arms as if chilled. Beom-ryeol suddenly let out a dry laugh.
“I take refuge in Amitabha Buddha. In Buddhism, we say: cause, condition, and effect.”
“......?”
“It’s not like that worldly saying, ‘karma.’ It’s just a reflection of phenona. If hydrangeas bloom, it’s because hydrangea seeds were sown. If cabbage grows, it’s because cabbage seeds were planted.”
“Our tree said so. If you just send Wonjeok out for a bit, there won’t be a fight with Shaolin.”
Like all supre masters, they only spoke their own truths.
Yet the Harmonized Myung Clan didn’t interfere with the Four Guardians’ words. Abbot Beomha, too, left everything to Beom-ryeol. The kind of face even the Divine Sword Corps Leader would show respect to.
Beom-ryeol spoke.
“And so if your bones and flesh split open here, it is nothing more than cause and condition leading to effect. It has nothing to do with my emotions.”
That was as far as it went.
Geumbyeok blinked, not understanding the words—
Beom-ryeol had already unleashed Hundred-Step Divine Fist right in front of his face without taking a single step. At that instant, the houses behind him ca into Jeong Yeon-shin’s view.
In that mont, three halos spun at once from the Divine Sword Corps Leader’s heart.
The triple rotation interlocked like gears, releasing radiant inner force that shattered the Rebound Demon Seal—a state just before the peak of the Divine Blood Limit Realm.
And in contrast, before him, the world stopped—like ti’s gears had reversed and imposed drag on reality.
Boom— Boom— Boom—!
Amazingly, Beom-ryeol’s punches extended at the pace of an ordinary human’s gesture. Distorting the air into a sphere, then firing golden fist-force from the center like a warship’s cannon fire.
Geumbyeok, his neck and waist twisted in opposite directions from the triple strike, took on a posture like an arrow, evading with lightning-fast body movent.
Yet both n were looking elsewhere—
Beom-ryeol glaring beyond Geumbyeok’s shoulder, and Geumbyeok turning his eyeballs inside out to match the gaze.
A world of absolute monsters.
Hwanik Chilbo.
Jeong Yeon-shin saw the Heaven’s Quickest Step leaping between the golden fists as stepping stones. And in that mont, he caught a glimpse of Abbot Beomha, smiling.
Only [N O V E L I G H T] now did it feel like he had returned to the martial world of the Central Plains.
Step.
As he stepped atop the Myung Clan’s carriage roof, ti resud. The Hundred-Step Divine Fist continued boring into the earth, and the reverse wind from Jeong Yeon-shin’s Light Step flared against Abbot Beomha’s sleeve.
Ruuuumble—!
“......!”
Even the previously emotionless Myung Clan warriors turned like leaves in a windstorm. Each stared up at Jeong Yeon-shin, each with a different expression. Despite their unity with the Heavenly Tree, their temperants were varied.
So even Cheongseong Sect’s Leader Cheongsu Jin-in was the sa.
Now, the pressure from the Hundred-Step Divine Fist was rising from the soles of his feet, but there was no need to show it. The fight hadn’t begun—so it would fade soon.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth.
“Of all places...”
“......”
“In Yangyang.”
There was no need to finish the sentence.
Because he was the Divine Sword Corps Leader.
Geumbyeok blinked, confused.
“Wolpung...?”
That was the na of the First Divine Sword Corps Leader—the one who first protected the young Lord of Ipwang Fortress.
But Jeong Yeon-shin was already bending down, tearing through the roof of the carriage. He was used to Geumbyeok’s senility.
“The Heavenly Tree and Shaolin have disturbed the peace with their petty feud. All involved are now considered criminals caught in the act.”
He added casually,
“I will now apprehend you.”
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