* * *
It was a deep forest.
The withered old trees, lined up in skeletal form, and the sparse foliage that still clung to their green leaves rustled in the wind, creating an eerie sound.
Above the distant sky, long trails of smoke rose in succession. Whether they were from cooking fires or the final breaths of a village plundered in famine, it was impossible to tell.
Even if it were the former, the situation was far from good. It was likely part of the Heaven-Spanning Net, personally overseen by the leader of the demonic sect.
Villages built in remote mountain areas, far from the main roads, formed the axes of a massive formation, replacing common folk with swordsmen as their inhabitants.
At the center, in a secluded and small clearing.
The eyes of Yong Hee-myung, the Divine Sword Order's leader, slowly opened.
Swoosh.
As he rose from a smoothly cut rock that served as his bed, the purple silk robe that had been covering him moved of its own accord, draping itself over his shoulders.
The transparent morning sunlight cascaded gently over his robes.
Though he hadn't been able to wash properly for days, he remained dignified.
The duty of the Desolate Fortress' Divine Sword Order's leader—he had to stand at the pinnacle in both refinement and martial prowess across the vast and suffocatingly expansive world of Jianghu, at all times, in any situation.
"Aren't you immune to the cold and heat, Order's leader? If you're going to use such a precious artifact like that, at least lend it to me."
A youthful voice spoke, the speaker dangling his legs from a high tree branch. It was Yeon So-ha, the youngest and most promising blue-ranked swordsman in the Divine Sword Squad under the Divine Sword Order.
A faint smile curved at the corners of Yong Hee-myung's lips.
"Not a chance. You're fifty years too early."
"Fifty years? Do you think we'll even be alive by then…?"
"Who knows."
Suddenly, with a soft plop, a drop of blood fell and seeped into the soil. It was Yeon So-ha's blood. It had leaked out as he tightened the bandage around his arm.
His blue martial uniform, draped over him like a rag, was tattered with countless stab wounds and sword slashes.
"I knew the Martial Dragon Association was crazy, but those big-eared bastards from the Dark Night War are just as bad. Who the hell puts poison on their arrows?"
Yeon So-ha bit off the bandage with his teeth, speaking sluggishly.
"I almost ended up like the old Radiant Demon Squad's leader."
Yong Hee-myung chuckled.
"You suffered more loss than gain. If you had only wounded your arm instead, you could have won the favor of the Eastern Depot."
"What good comes from impressing those shady folks? Before we left for this mission, I heard that the Ma Clan's leader had been amusing himself by personally overseeing the black ascension Trials. There's no benefit to currying favor with eunuchs."
"You mean the Eunuch Sarye. He has quite a bit of influence, controlling both the Western Depot and the Grand Internal Bureau. Even when I was recognized in Beijing, he played a role in the process. Since you share the same long-eared lineage, it'll be the same for you."
"In fifty years, won't the eunuch be replaced at least three times? It's rare for a high-ranking official, whether of noble or common descent, to last long without being demoted. Recently, the eunuch Myung-yu made an unusual comeback, but still…"
"Don't worry. This eunuch will last a while. Despite his power, he's adept at managing his position."
"Huh… well, that does make sense."
Yeon So-ha recalled a tale about the previous eunuch of the Ceremonial Supervisory Bureau, the one who had proposed a major cut to the military funds allocated to the Desolate Fortress.
That man, on the very night he submitted his petition, received the Divine Sword Order's leader Ma Yeonjeok as a guest—and by the end of their meeting, he was left crippled. The Emperor, in response, merely instructed the Desolate Fortress' Lord to keep her warriors in check. That was all.
"Ah, I suddenly remembered a refreshing story. My energy is circulating like blood—I think I can move again."
"It looks like your nerves have finally relaxed a bit. Keep a firm grip on your sword."
Yong Hee-myung suddenly plucked a leaf from a nearby tree.
Then, rolling it between his index and middle fingers, he slowly brought it to his lips. He looked as though he were about to enjoy a moment of leisure in a scenic mountain retreat—right until the moment he played the leaf flute.
Piiiik—
A sudden resonance surged through the mountain path ahead. The foliage, as if struck by a violent gust, swayed wildly.
Through the gaps, several men and women, swords at their waists, collapsed with their eyes shut. Their heavy bodies hit the ground in irregular thuds.
"We've been exposed."
"I didn't expect him to be skilled in sound techniques…!"
"Get a hold of yourselves! That man is the Divine Sword Order's leader!"
From behind the unconscious figures, more warriors emerged. Though the situation warranted immediate retreat, they instead drew their weapons. The metallic scrape of swords being unsheathed rang in rapid succession.
"He was clearly asleep. The Energy-Scattering Poison has started to take effect."
"So, he is human after all."
"It wasn't just the Energy-Scattering Poison, was it? The Dark Night War's leader himself said that his arrow, coated in Seven-Step Death Powder, struck him. Look, right there on his shoulder. There is a wound."
"How many of the sect's formations have been broken so far? He must be exhausted by now."
They were all elites.
The forest was beginning to fill with people. Their numbers steadily grew.
Ten, twenty… thirty… Each of them, as they revealed themselves, assumed a different combat stance, yet none appeared unskilled.
Among them, the overwhelming presence unique to the demonic faction was distinctly noticeable.
Yong Hee-myung laughed.
"Seven-Step Death Powder? The Tang Clan wouldn't make something so precious for a bunch of grey-eared bastards. You must've been deceived. Or did the Taemo Mountain Fortress Lord steal it from the Tang Clan's leader and hand it over?"
"What…?"
"In any case, these are truly dark times. The likes of you, lacking any refinement, dare to covet the Divine Sword Order's leader's head."
His gaze slowly swept across the surroundings. Though he seemed leisurely, his senses had dulled, forcing him to assess the ambush with his eyes.
At some point, Yeon So-ha had drawn his sword, assisting in buying time.
"Perhaps you're no longer the Order's leader?"
"Hmm?"
"If the Elder Council in the fortress decided so, it would make sense."
"…At my age, I'm still just the backwaters of the Yangtze…"
At that moment.
A sudden arc of light flared from the curve of Yong Hee-myung's waist, flashing a blinding white. It was an instantaneous sword draw, executed in an explosive burst.
The invisible shockwave, launched from a single trajectory, surged forward like a cannonball, completely obliterating the five martial experts who had lunged at him from three paces away.
Puhwaak—!
Flesh, mixed with shards of bone, erupted into the air in a gruesome spray. It was accompanied by the shimmering remnants of their shattered energy barriers.
Before the air could even be fully tainted with blood, a tree with a trunk two yards in diameter collapsed with a kwaaajik—as if something with enormous fangs had taken a bite out of it.
All of it happened in an instant.
Late, the leaves scattered in all directions. From one side, a flock of mountain birds took flight, their wings beating as they soared high into the sky.
The ambushers, frozen in place, spoke only with their expressions. They said he was on his last legs…?
"We're breaking through."
"Understood."
It was when Yong Hee-myung and Yeon So-ha exchanged words.
"There's no need for that."
A deep voice echoed from the side. Yong Hee-myung's eyebrow twitched.
Turning his gaze, he saw figures emerging like ghosts from the forest path. At least fifty of them.
Each one clad in yellow martial robes, each carrying a treasured sword at their side. The flow of energy they exuded harmonized eerily with the withered forest path, a presence overwhelming in its own right.
It was not simply intense or overbearing. It was an unprecedented madness. Merely sensing it evoked the instinct of a single-minded obsession.
It could only be the Martial Dragon Association of the Thirteen Celestial Demons.
These were warriors obsessed with martial arts, willing to share their sect's techniques with others. Their pursuit of the ultimate state of martial transcendence followed a path distinct from all other sects.
At the forefront stood Namgoong First Sword—a peerless swordsman known to have sworn brotherhood with the Martial Dragon Association's leader.
He was also the master of a dozen villages, each constructed for the sole purpose of capturing the Divine Sword Order's leader in the vast expanse of the world.
"You don't seem to be in great shape. Can you still wield the Dragon Ring Sword?"
Namgoong First Sword asked, his long blue sleeves swaying.
Though he had yet to even unsheathe his blade, the sheer force radiating from his scabbard felt as if it could fill the entire sky. It was a trace of King-Style Sword Arts taken to its pinnacle.
Yong Hee-myung merely chuckled without responding.
"My order in Sichuan,"
Namgoong First Sword continued,
"aren't you curious about how it turned out?"
He directed the question at Yeon So-ha, though his gaze remained fixed on Yong Hee-myung. The reply came from above.
"With how many of your precious black ranks were gathered, it must have worked out somehow. Even if only half of them assembled, Sichuan should be in ruins right now."
"Half might not have been enough. The Golden Wings Sect's leader is no ordinary monster. Though the Pure Demon Alliance's leader and the other grandmasters, including Lightning Genius, may have found a way to handle it."
"Since it was the Order's leader's summons, I'd wager more showed up than just half. Still, I must admit, having all those squad leaders in one place is quite the curiosity."
"Is there no way to find out immediately?"
"None. Do you realize how far that is from here?"
Namgoong First Sword, who had been observing their conversation, slowly opened his mouth.
"Enough with your breathing techniques. The time granted to Order's leader Yong is not long."
"So, you noticed."
Yong Hee-myung grinned sheepishly. He should have mastered a more useful internal art.
At some point, the Transcendent Sword was already in his grip, humming ominously. Unlike its master's demeanor, its chilling glow illuminated the surrounding blades of grass.
Soon, the reflection of shattered corpses flickered in Namgoong First Sword's eyes. The peerless swordsman had an exceptionally broad field of view.
"Your sword aura has dulled."
He spoke quietly.
"Our Lord has left seclusion. He is coming here directly."
He meant the Martial Dragon Association's leader.
While Yeon So-ha unconsciously inhaled sharply, Yong Hee-myung twirled his sword in a seemingly indifferent manner.
"Only now? That last strike I landed on him must have hurt quite a bit."
"For you, that would be bad news. But as a warrior, let me share some good news as well."
"If the bad news is insignificant, how great could the good news be?"
"The black ranks of Desolate Fortress, gathered in Sichuan, have made a scene. That friend of yours, Lightning Genius of the Radiant Demon Squad, managed to defeat three of the Thirteen Celestial Lords in succession. Leader of the Ten Perfection Sect, Pure Demon Alliance's leader, and Golden Wings Sect's leader. The leader of Yeoryung Sect is currently verifying the truth."
A gust of wind swept through the forest path, rattling the branches. Leaves drifting in the air made a sound louder than any person.
Despite the impact of Namgoong First Sword's words on their morale, the silence among those in the standoff only deepened.
* * *
Jung Yeonshin was heading north with his seniors.
This was after he had informed the two leaders of the Nine Great Sects that he would initiate the Pact of Mount Hua.
The ruins of Dark Night War, now laid bare to the world, had been abandoned in Guizhou.
People from all walks of life had gathered, but the black ranks left without a second thought.
Alongside Jung Yeonshin was the Young Lord of Dark Night War, connected to the Dreadfeather Raven and their spiritual link, now a captive.
A long time passed.
As day and night changed countless times, formations shifted. Within his sensory range, the black ranks had scattered. Jung Yeonshin remained at the center, holding the Young Lord as a prisoner.
During this time, Jung Yeonshin barely spoke to him.
When it was time to eat, he shared jerky. He took no longer than half an incense stick to rest by the fire before continuing his journey with lightfoot techniques.
It was all because of the Dreadfeather Raven, soaring ahead, leading the way. There was no time to fall behind; if anything, they needed to move faster.
"Lightning Genius, let's take a short break. One does not treat the scion of a noble clan this way."
"Don't stop. There's something to learn from watching how you carry yourself."
Jung Yeonshin replied.
One who is not regarded as a noble figure cannot become the Divine Sword Order's leader, and a noble learns from all things under heaven.
Even a grub, though seemingly slow, never ceases to move forward.
The Young Lord of Dark Night War was the same.
"If I want to maintain my Jung Clan Movement Arts even in a battle at the peak of martial mastery, I need to imprint such things into my mind."
Jung Yeonshin continuously gained insight, never ceasing his martial cultivation, much like any supreme master.
"...."
From that moment, the Young Lord fell silent.
A peerless young swordsman had said he was learning from him.
Yet, the Young Lord was a warrior. The thrill that rose from within his spine was unmistakable—it was closer to awe.
"How could I… feel this toward a life-and-death enemy?"
Suppressing his emotions, he forced his mind into submission. His refined eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
By then, Jung Yeonshin was already gazing at the sky.
The Dreadfeather Raven, circling in place and letting out sharp cries, had stopped moving forward. From the distance, several powerful energy signatures could be felt.
Shhhk.
It was as he drew his sword, the Yurei.
The dense thicket ahead trembled, and a shaggy-haired young man poked his head through.
"Again? This time, it's not just some random lackey…"
The man tapped the tip of his nose, scanning Jung Yeonshin up and down. His demeanor was strange—slightly reserved, yet oddly nonchalant.
"You, Young Lord, have come to add your blade to the fray. A good time for it, too. Things are getting wild from afar. Which sect do you belong to? Martial Dragon Association? Dark Night War?"
He spoke nonsense.
But it seemed he had found exactly who he was looking for.