* * *
The night was deep blue.
By the time Jung Yeonshin and his companions arrived at Xiahou Wei-Jin's village, night had already fallen.
The pitch-black sky of the formation was filled with faintly glowing stars. Whether they were real or not was uncertain.
"..."
In front of the cold anvil, Jung Yeonshin saw the Tang siblings standing amidst the faint night mist.
They seemed like empty shells, as if only their physical forms remained. Though they wore smiles, they lacked their usual liveliness.
Their faces were paler than the starlight above, gripping their hammers and standing firmly on the ground, only their posture appeared steady.
"They forged the sword, then perished."
Xiahou Wei-Jin spoke in a calm tone. Perhaps due to the earlier news of Obeying Heaven Squad's leader's misfortune, his voice was somewhat hoarse.
Beside him, Cheon So-So also seemed composed. Though she had no personal ties to the Tang siblings, she had witnessed countless comrades fall in the line of duty. For a long time now.
Jung Yeonshin was different.
Without a word, he stepped toward the siblings.
Thud.
A slow gait. Before he could even contemplate the circumstances leading to their deaths, an intuitive whisper arose from the upper dantian in his mind.
Jung Yeonshin immediately grasped the sequence of events.
'Mental prowess.'
They had pushed the power of their upper dantian to its limits.
Forging the blade with unmatched intensity, striking its surface while meticulously balancing its minute equilibrium, and imbuing the weapon with spiritual essence—they must have exerted abilities beyond their natural capacities. Just as he had when he first founded his sword technique.
Had the siblings been aware?
That with every strike of the hammer, death was drawing closer?
"We tried to move their bodies, but even four grown men couldn't budge them. It seems the traces of the sword's spirit have rooted them in place."
A short old man approached and stood beside the deceased siblings.
He was the village's former chief. With sharp insight befitting his wrinkled face, he glanced at Divine Hand King before looking at Jung Yeonshin, unable to hide his astonishment.
"So, you've finally overturned the order of this land. Even here, Desolate Fortress remains Desolate Fortress."
"Did they leave any last words?"
Jung Yeonshin asked without taking his eyes off the siblings.
The village chief gave a bitter smile.
"They said they would forge a sword for their benefactor from the Tang Clan, in exchange for all the knowledge about True Silver Ore that this land had to offer. Then, after practicing the forging and tempering process a couple of times, they immediately began hammering away."
"..."
"That was the end of it. I've never seen such geniuses before."
Saying this, the chief's gaze fell upon the divine sword tied to the waist of the Radiant Demon Squad's leader.
Jung Yeonshin, sensing the old craftsman's unhidden admiration, slowly cupped his hands in a respectful salute before withdrawing his attention.
It meant there were no final words. Only a single sword remained.
Rustle—
Jung Yeonshin quietly faced the night air.
A cool breeze swept over his sleeves. At this moment, he was acutely aware of how difficult it was to pinpoint where the tail of the wind was severed.
"They deserve mourning. I'll head in first."
Hwangbo Gon patted him twice on the shoulder before trudging past.
Despite having no guide to his lodging, he seemed ready to sleep anywhere. The Divine Hand King, having recently learned of the Hwangbo Clan's massacre, still wore an expression as composed and brazen as ever.
His thoughts remained unreadable. The only time he had fully revealed his emotions was when marveling at Jung Yeonshin's rebirth.
An individual difficult for anyone but Jung Yeonshin to handle alone.
Glancing briefly at the back of the Divine Hand King's head, Xiahou Wei-Jin turned to his junior and spoke.
"…If we forcefully move the siblings, their bodies might be damaged. The spiritual energy imbued in them is so thick that there's no sign of decay. If there's no other way, we may have to dig deep into the ground to retrieve them. I'll help if needed."
"Thank you for the advice. Please rest now."
Jung Yeonshin spoke softly.
Though his tone wasn't particularly firm, the senior warriors in black found no need to continue the conversation.
As Xiahou Wei-Jin and Cheon So-So departed, the former village chief, who had been staring at the divine sword of Radiant Demon Squad's leader, was also forced to leave—dragged away by Xiahou Wei-Jin's large hand gripping his nape.
"This is my junior. He's the next in line for Desolate Fortress' purple rank, so don't act rashly."
"Alright, alright, let go…! If anyone's rash, it's that broad forehead of yours!"
And so, darkness settled in once more. But only briefly.
Jung Yeonshin slowly spoke.
"Come out."
"It's getting harder to deceive you."
A voice, rough with an artificial rasp, echoed with a distinct pronunciation. Originally clear and bright, it now sounded as though forcibly scratched by internal energy.
Thud—
Suddenly, a light landing revealed the hem of a pure white robe, followed by the entire figure stepping from the darkness, a silver mask covering from the forehead to the tip of the nose.
Wrapped in an air of mystery.
The Young Lord of the Ming Cult.
"Had a good time?"
At Jung Yeonshin's question, the Young Lord shrugged.
"There was much to do. I had to manipulate the formation's life gate and death gate to block the Golden Wings Sect's leader from sneaking in, track the traces of the Flood Dragon… and from time to time, bolster the sorcery arts anchoring your wife's shadow to you. It's a study that verges on defying the heavens—hardly a trivial task. I wonder if you even appreciate that."
"My ears hurt."
"As expected. You truly are my one and only confidant."
The Young Lord's dark azure eyes, peering from behind the mask, briefly followed Jung Yeonshin's gaze toward the Tang siblings.
"Ah. So that's why."
"What is?"
"The reason your wife was so frightened. The upper dantian's energy wave structure within the Tang siblings is strikingly similar to yours. After examining their meridians, I realized—they were a joint creation of the Blood Flame Cult and the Tang Clan."
"..."
"The Blood Flame Cult's main headquarters, didn't you spend quite a long time there? Your sharp-eyed wife, in her attempt to care for you, must have drawn up a crude anatomical diagram and handed it over to the Tang Clan. Following that, the Blood Flame Cult's leader and the Grand Elder of the Tang Clan must have modeled the twins after it."
"I told you, she is not my wife."
"She's in there."
The Young Lord's long finger pointed at Jung Yeonshin's shadow.
"She's trembling, hiding within. It must be because you are extremely angry right now."
With one corner of his lips slightly raised, the Young Lord finished his words. The silvery sheen flowing over his mask seemed to deepen the amusement in his expression.
"Speak your intentions."
Jung Yeonshin spoke quietly.
He sensed an ulterior motive in the Young Lord's words and actions.
Some warriors from the demonic faction, skilled in provocation, were known to draw out their opponents' blind battle intent with a few offhand remarks, making fights easier for them.
The Young Lord was likely the same. Unlike Radiant Demon Squad's current leader, he hadn't grown up with a straight and proper upbringing.
Whether he knew Jung Yeonshin's thoughts or not, the Young Lord clapped his hands together.
At some point, a sharp gust had begun emanating from Jung Yeonshin's body, making the Young Lord's pristine white scarf flutter.
"What an overwhelming presence. Even after reducing the old monsters of the Secret Realm Peng Clan, Peng Yuran, and Lee Shi-myung to that state."
"The Wind Lord was taken care of by my seniors."
"In any case."
The Young Lord waved his hand lazily.
"I wanted to test how much strength you had left since you might have to face the Flood Dragon's discarded shell one day, but it turns out I was completely off the mark."
"Explain in detail."
"In short, I came up empty. No matter where I searched within the formation, I couldn't find even a single scale of the Flood Dragon. If it had at least left behind an internal elixir, that would have been something."
"I'm not interested."
"Your sympathy is appreciated."
The Young Lord continued speaking at a slow, deliberate pace.
"In any case, now that I've seen everything I needed to, I have to leave. But the moment we open this space to the outside, the lingering spirit within the Flood Dragon's formation will react."
"In what way?"
Jung Yeonshin asked as he slowly released his grip on the sword energy he had been condensing.
Seeing this, the Young Lord exhaled in an exaggerated motion, as if expressing his relief.
Even though Jung Yeonshin had yet to fully gauge his true odds against him.
"You need to consider the possibility that the Flood Dragon's Nascent Spirit may manifest."
"Now, of all times?"
"A spirit beast that has failed to ascend is incredibly greedy. It may leave intruders alone, but it never allows anything to escape its domain."
A Nascent Spirit.
A Taoist realm, where a spiritual force that amplifies energy merges completely with one's internal power through an unknown harmony, forming another body.
Among common folk, it was widely rumored that an Elder of the Wudang Sect could perform duplication techniques.
Two identical grandmasters wielding the Ten-Step Brocade, how many in the world could possibly withstand that?
Then what about a duplicate of the Flood Dragon?
"Of course, it would fall far short of the original body, and it might not even appear at all… but it's something worth keeping in mind."
"I understand."
"Well then, as soon as dawn breaks tomorrow, we'll dismantle the formation—"
"In two days."
"What?"
"We leave with the commoners."
Jung Yeonshin stated, his gaze still fixed on the Tang siblings.
* * *
Everything proceeded swiftly.
Xiahou Wei-Jin and Cheon So-So took the lead in gathering the scattered people within the formation.
It was a space on the verge of collapse. Once the formation disappeared, it was impossible to predict what would happen to those left behind.
The Immortal Spirit Wood Squad and the Forest Striding Squad were summoned.
The Obeying Heaven Squad, which had partially entered the formation, also assembled.
"That person… is the Lightning Genius?"
"He really defeated the Secret Realm Peng Clan alone…!"
Nearly sixty people were astonished by Jung Yeonshin's appearance, while they continued to gather the commoners.
Occasionally, those attempting to steal Cheon So-So's saplings rushed over the village's barricades, only to be kicked away by the Divine Hand King every time.
"I haven't performed the Geumbun Sesu ritual, so breathing outside air won't be too much of a disgrace."
Lounging atop the towering barricade like a carefree wanderer, Hwangbo Gon was a man unshackled by the conventional martial order of the orthodox and demonic factions.
Even after learning of the Young Lord of the Ming Cult's identity, he merely left a remark as though speaking to a carriage driver, asking them to take care of things.
Thus, two days passed.
Jung Yeonshin spent two nights with the Twin Venoms of the Dragon-Phoenix. Sitting cross-legged in front of the siblings.
He meditated with his eyes half-closed, occasionally opening them at night when the stars shone brightly.
Compared to the harsh glare of the sun, the starlight made the siblings' figures stand out more clearly.
Jung Yeonshin rested the divine sword on his lap and pondered.
Could he, too, leave an indelible mark upon the world, just as the Twin Venoms of the Dragon-Phoenix had? Their final work, the divine sword, would undoubtedly become renowned, never to be broken.
"Are you going to get up or not?"
A voice from above.
Jung Yeonshin opened his eyes at the sound of the Young Lord.
Beneath the orange-tinged dawn, he saw the gathered crowd surrounding him. The sheer number was difficult to count, a mix of warriors, blacksmiths, and hybrids from various clans.
Had the events he set in motion spread that widely?
No one in the crowd dared to speak recklessly.
Instead, they watched him with eyes filled with either curiosity or fear. Unlike the martial world beyond, everyone here knew the true extent of Jung Yeonshin's martial prowess.
Jung Yeonshin rose to his feet, turning his back on the still-standing bodies of the Tang siblings.
'Many.'
The village was filled with people, densely packed at the heart of the Young Lord's ritual formation.
Xiahou Wei-Jin and Cheon So-So's presence could be felt on either side, maintaining their formation to protect the commoners. Scattered subordinates remained vigilant for any lingering old monsters seeking to steal the saplings.
It was eerily silent.
The Young Lord spread his arms.
"I told you, it will only take a moment."
"Yes."
Jung Yeonshin nodded.
He had already heard it. The Flood Dragon was a demon of great power, freely moving between eternity and an instant.
"It really will be brief."
The Young Lord spoke again, like an older brother or sister nagging persistently.
"If it weren't for our innate perception, no one else would even notice what happens. Keep that in mind."
Jung Yeonshin remained silent. Too much chatter.
The Young Lord's lips curled slightly.
"Let's begin."
The moment his leather shoes struck the ground—
Kwoooooooosh!
A deafening roar erupted, sweeping across the field in a curved trajectory.
The chunks of True Silver Ore, placed throughout the long barricade to function as formation anchors, shattered one after another.
It happened in an instant.
Ancient symbols and intricate patterns carved themselves into the earth, forming a vast circular magic array.
Some of the more sensitive blacksmiths let out silent exclamations of awe.
Fwoosh—
Suddenly, the sky darkened. The world seemed to sink into an abyss.
A shadow had fallen over them.
Jung Yeonshin lifted his gaze.
A chill ran down his spine. A concentration of natural energy so dense that no one had time to react.
Wuuuuuuuuung—!
A long, enormously thick shadow loomed over the ground from the sky, its maw wide open.
A long snout bristling with countless teeth, sinister eyes set deep above them, pupils gleaming like massive obsidian orbs…
Unrivaled.
Its head alone was nearly half the size of the village.
Jung Yeonshin's eyes widened.
'This is—'
The martial world where the purple-ranked warriors of Desolate Fortress resided, a land teeming with monstrous beings, divine creatures, and absolute masters.
"The Flood Dragon! The Flood Dragon…!"
"The Dragon God is enraged!"
"No, no…!"
"This can't be happening!"
Many, stricken with terror and panic, vanished in an instant.
The power of the ritual formation had opened an unseen life gate within the formation, swallowing them whole. One by one, those standing ahead of Jung Yeonshin disappeared in mere moments.
The sequence reached the point where, in the blink of an eye, it was right before him.
"It really came out. Well, at least I finished the formation."
The Young Lord's voice rang out, calm and composed.
Then, it happened.
The commoners at the front had all escaped through the formation, and just as the Young Lord glanced upward, his figure flickered and grew faint.
Kwoooooooosh—!
A crimson inferno engulfed the entire front. The breath of the Flood Dragon's shadow.
Its size was overwhelming. The air itself distorted chaotically in an instant, the hellfire surging forward with devastating tremors, reaching right before Jung Yeonshin.
By then, he had already sensed the force of the formation pulling him beyond its boundaries. Yet, with a single revolution of the radiant wheel within his heart, he subdued the sorcery's pull.
Not yet.
Behind him, the siblings remained. So did the commoners.
As the overwhelming firestorm reached their senses and the inevitable terror gripped them, their breaths turned ragged.
The scenery before Jung Yeonshin's eyes slowed.
The realm of Transcendence Ascended.
Thud.
Instead, he took a step forward.
He could feel the desperate approach of his seniors rushing toward him, but his mind was elsewhere—recalling the twins, bathed in starlight, frozen in time.
Krrrack—!
A sound resonated from his heart.
The radiant wheel shed a layer, releasing countless fragments of light that spilled gently outside his body.
Simultaneously, every meridian in his body breathed in harmony with the mnemonic verse of Full Sky Flower Rain, weaving those starlit fragments into a seamless garment.
It took but a moment to envelop him entirely.
Draped in a robe of faint starlight like silk, Jung Yeonshin, with the Tang siblings behind his back, collided head-on with the Flood Dragon's immense firestorm.