Jeong Yeon-shin sheathed Starry Night.

From his grasp, dark blue flames scattered like feathers, and the meridians of his wrist thrummed with a buzzing vibration, revealing the immense strain he had just endured.

It was the aftermath of unleashing an absurdly powerful Sword Prime. It felt like the flower dust pulverized by Tae Yeom-ryong’s extreme Yang energy was now dancing in his palm. It tingled—yet burned intensely.

‘If this is the extent of the recoil, it's negligible.’

He had only been able to swing that sword because of the Resonance Division. Had he done so under any other circumstance, even three luminous rings would’ve halted rotation on the spot.

The formless pulse of Entry into the Dao, Boundless Art—which supplied overwhelming energy to Jeong Yeon-shin—continued to grow stronger, never once breaking.

Because the Divine Sword Corps was closing in on Heukdo Imperial Palace.

A force capable of pushing back even the elite martial troops of a nation, if only slightly.

There could be no firmer ally.

Haa—

Jeong Yeon-shin’s breath scattered in a white mist like drifting cloud.

Though it was likely spring had already arrived in the southern lands, the winter of the Demon Realm showed no signs of receding.

He slowly lowered his gaze.

“......”

The palace landscape had changed dramatically. The suffocatingly relentless battle had likewise undergone a sweeping transformation.

A murky black mist still sprawled beneath his feet. Black Fog flowed erratically along the cracked lines of the ground, like splintered cobwebs.

But the surrounding palace walls were no longer the same. They had vanished without a trace, revealing an open vista.

A chilling northern wind began to drift in. The Black Ring, once embedded into the palace ground with the thunderblade, had now been flung into the rear courtyard.

Sssss—

A cold wind, enough to still the battle momentarily.

Only three foes stood firm in that pause.

“......”

An emperor wrapped entirely in Black Fog, a straw-hatted giant who had dismounted his warhorse at some point, and a red-tinted crescent-moon blade wielder with half her long hair cut off.

None of them turned to face Jeong Yeon-shin.

Likely because they were now facing off against Ma Yeon-jeok and Yong Hui-myeong. After all, Jeong Yeon-shin’s One Sword had never been aimed at them.

The Dharma King, who always seemed absurdly unkillable, was now in ruins. Blood seeped across the orange monk’s robes woven from the rarest silk.

“This... waist-splitting...”

He invented the term himself. The implication: his waist had been severed. Perhaps it was because the death of the King of Chi Geuk had left such an impression.

[No one else can purely expand their inner energy blade to that extent. The energy cost is too great to maintain its form for long. The only reason the strike seemed endless was due to its sheer overwhelming reach.]

Namje’s mental voice thrummed.

[It was a calculated strike aimed at the formation—yet to still have strength left afterward is astonishing. The kings must be on alert.]

At the same moment, a breeze stirred. Another distortion of space. Namje and the Dharma King had switched places.

Namje now faced Jeong Yeon-shin, while the Dharma King had been moved beside Yong Hui-myeong—where Yeom Jeong and Heavenly Patriarch Noban stood tall, unleashing immense presence.

Yet from the Dharma King's mouth came only incomprehensible curses in Sanskrit.

Thus, the only thing left in the hall was a pale jade-colored altar that had always [N O V E L I G H T] stood lower than the rest.

A desolate sight.

And only one person gave that scene any life. Yong Hui-myeong, standing beyond the altar, wore an expression of disbelief.

“...You cut down the entire formation? What was that?”

“It was the Formless Sword.”

“I gathered that. I meant its power. If I hadn’t received a warning through the message earlier, who knows how my body would’ve reacted.”

He spoke with a tone completely unsuited for the battlefield. Despite staking his life, the current Swordmaster of this era sounded unbothered. But Jeong Yeon-shin knew better.

He could sense a strange resonance emanating from Yong Hui-myeong’s heart—one that always seemed to contain the cosmos itself.

He was preparing something. Within the time Jeong Yeon-shin had earned for him.

It was an instinct from his upper dantian.

To match Yong Hui-myeong’s rhythm, Jeong Yeon-shin asked seriously:

“Better than the Dragonring Sword, isn’t it?”

“Made by a brat who always tries to upstage his superior—of course it packs a punch. It was vicious.”

“The will that forged this sword came from my noble benefactor.”

“My seasoned eyes were caught by an artistic sword strike. Didn’t I once hold the Nightblood Whirl Demon Sword? I was the one who taught Mingzhao the essence of the Formless Sword. That noble brat was always drifting around the Original Balanced Sword Field...”

“You did well.”

“Cheeky bastard.”

Yong Hui-myeong laughed. As if he were enjoying the moment. Even as three Liu Yuan Star Lords and Heavenly Patriarch Noban were slowly forming a circular encirclement around him.

“Look at your maternal grandfather. He’s about to ascend.”

Ma Yeon-jeok was peering at Jeong Yeon-shin from over Bukdo’s broad shoulder. His face was full of laughter, as if the deep wrinkles of a long-gone smile had returned.

Bukdo, on the other hand, was staring downward.

At a monster warhorse—its four legs all broken, even its long neck crushed.

Bukdo had ridden that horse across the void, stepping through the air to vault over Jeong Yeon-shin’s One Sword.

He was a martial god who strolled across moments like stepping through his own home. There was no way he hadn’t sensed the sword strike that spanned all of Heukdo. He must have dodged it effortlessly.

In front of the Tyrant Hero.

The warhorse being crushed in a flash of bright blue light seemed natural. Even if it had been a lifelong companion or a treasured beast, it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Bukdo’s shoulders spread slightly.

[...Three of the previous generation. Repay it with your death.]

“Yeon-shin, this is the shackle of hatred. Conflict between people is something even the head of the Divine Sword Corps cannot cut through...”

Ma Yeon-jeok lowered his hand at an angle.

“That’s why the Great Wall exists.” 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

The sword that had once hung at his waist was now in his right hand.

Unlike the Formless Swords forged by later Swordmasters, this was different. From hilt to blade tip, it was a flawless straight-edged masterpiece named Moon Keeper.

No one knew when he had drawn it.

A draw as natural as Namje’s attack that Jeong Yeon-shin had once witnessed—so natural it seemed like he could carry the entire world with a single sword.

Meanwhile, Bukdo wielded multiple weapons.

Sssk.

In addition to the red crescent blade in his right hand, he now drew the large axe usually strapped across his back with his left. As if to say he could face Ma Yeon-jeok using both giant weapons at once.

Back when the Liu Yuan Star Lords were one:

There had been a man who, at the front lines, fought in place of the God of War and was called the War God himself. One who had never once lost in great wars.

He was known throughout the world as Bukdo of the North.

[You are the embodiment of "Only I Am Supreme," so you’ve likely never considered death. That is why you’ll be slain by me.]

“What the hell are you rambling about?”

The next moment, both Bukdo and Ma Yeon-jeok vanished. At the center where they had stood, a massive shockwave exploded.

The palace’s foundation split in every direction. Deep furrows erupted with sparks as they tore across the ground.

Their movements couldn’t be seen.

Even the pure white sunlight couldn’t follow them. In the razor-thin domain of close combat, translucent shockwaves burst and rippled in succession.

And only a single breath later came the tidal surge of power.

Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa—!

Like lightning crashing in reverse, the translucent shockwaves spiraled into the sky. The figures of the two unleashing world-breaking strikes were caught within those trajectories.

They vanished into the air in an instant.

Leaving behind only the warped trail of parabolic space. Brushing past So Cheonmujuk—still standing atop nothing—and the King of Dragon Resonance, gripped by the nape in her hand.

The leader of the Ming Cult, who had failed to become a Heavenly Demon, stared intently at Jeong Yeon-shin from beneath her ebony-flooded hair.

Now, none of the Northern Kings placed any hopes on her. No one trusted her.

“I can feel it now. All the tangled threads of fate have begun to knot together.”

Amid the overwhelming roar, Heavenly Patriarch Noban began to slowly step back. Had his calculations shifted? He distanced himself from Yong Hui-myeong and instead began approaching Jeong Yeon-shin.

The former emperor of the Yuan.

He now revealed a tightly knit back, muscles packed like armor. The formless sword strike had torn through both the Wind Cloak Robe and the Skybright Light Armor.

He asked:

“The formation?”

[The flow of inner energy has been severed. From this point forward, any martial support will rely solely on my remaining energy. Unless the technique array is repaired in time.]

Namje responded.

A most unusual act—he had spoken aloud.

Proof that Jeong Yeon-shin’s Formless Sword had even severed the sound cave messaging system of Whirling Wind Hollow. It also showed he knew ordinary sound transmissions wouldn’t escape the current Swordmaster’s senses.

‘Even the chants of the Pure Warrior have gone silent.’

Jeong Yeon-shin lifted the corner of his lips faintly.

“I’m still commanding the Divine Sword Corps. Looks like you’re the one getting desperate.”

The secret behind the King’s Crossing Sound Method differed from Whipungryeong. Instead of creating a sound transmission space, it launched sound like an earthquake.

Namje’s faint laughter spread.

[You’re short on time too. Can’t you feel it? Beyond the plains, overwhelming military pressure is coming. The imperial army is returning. You need to finish this fight before they arrive.]

It wasn’t wrong.

Because the Divine Sword Corps struck quickly, they were facing only a fast elite unit. But originally, their opponent was an entire nation.

That truth loomed silently, like the massive figure now filling the horizon.

[Heaven Soul.]

Namje’s hand came down calmly. Black mist flowed out in streams, leaving dark afterimages in the space.

Heaven Splitter.

In that instant, Jeong Yeon-shin’s right hand blurred and slashed upward with a burst of blue light.

Puhwak—

The overwhelming black palm force shattered on the spot, scattering dark sparks like feathers in all directions. In that gap, Namje’s ashen palm briefly appeared, naked.

Namje’s incantations pierced the air.

[Confusing Emotion.]

[Military Armor Shift.]

[Dark Deep Thunder.]

Three layers of thought resounded simultaneously. Just before Namje’s hand could collide with Jeong Yeon-shin’s, it pulled back at the same speed it had come down.

From Namje’s other hand, the black mist tore out like lightning in dozens of jagged branches.

Kwaaaaaaaaaaang!

The emperor’s divine armor, and the energy of Confusing Emotion, crashed into Jeong Yeon-shin all at once. The hardened soil deep within the palace burst upward like a tidal wave.

As the yellow dust was torn apart and rose, a long sword-shaped blue flame formed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s grip.

Kugugugung—

In a fleeting instant, the two light rings that had been spun back with internal energy rebuilt themselves from the heart, their seismic resonance intense. Natural energy gathered into a blade as the black ring spun violently—just at Namje’s eye level.

In the moment when Star Night came swinging down from above—

[Spatial Distortion.]

For the first time, Namje dodged.

The sword path, blazing with a dark blue light, instead cut into the Law King’s arm. It cleaved clean through the semi-transparent divine armor without resistance.

The lower shoulder of the Law King was completely torn apart with a crackling sound.

“Huk...!”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“So your name was Nadam? This is getting fun. I could go all day.”

The Law King, now in Namje’s place, let out a stunned gasp. At that moment, Yong Hui-myeong, now facing two of the Six Origin Star Generals, swept his rainbow-colored sword like an ancient shield.

Beyond the ivory altar—

[Great Opening of the Pillar.]

As if to declare the end of this fight, an incantation came from Yeom Jeong of the Six Origin Star Generals.

It was the Absolute Martial Domain.

Uuuuuuuung—

A translucent color spread from her crescent blade, growing wide and covering the old ruins of the black palace.

The aura flowed through all space like a dream.

According to what Jeong Yeon-shin had once been told by the black-clad ones, this was a sword domain that nullified all illusions and broken trajectories—allowing only frontal attacks.

As expected, the seven-colored afterimages released by Yong Hui-myeong’s swordplay unraveled completely.

The overwhelming pressure vanished, leaving the space feeling absurdly hollow. This dual contrast proved their transcendence.

Yeom Jeong’s expression twisted oddly.

She gave a crooked smile, her brows furrowed.

[So all of that was just change and illusion?]

Yeom Jeong, star of the northern constellation.

According to old folk beliefs, it was a star that imprisoned, restrained, oppressed, and controlled people.

Jeong Yeon-shin quietly turned his gaze to Yong Hui-myeong. At some point, he had stepped on top of the fallen Law King.

Saaa—

Namje was regathering the black mist over his entire body, releasing a massive presence.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly.

“...That technique means nothing to me. Could you handle Namje?”

But Yong Hui-myeong shook his head—and even shattered the Dragon Ring Sword in his hand into pieces.

“No. That foreign emperor is yours. Mixing with these three top-tier masters is starting to wear me out. The old monk is the variable... survive it if you can.”

Of course, you’ll prioritize protecting me later. He ended with those words and threw something long to Jeong Yeon-shin.

Teok—

Jeong Yeon-shin caught it and immediately sheathed it at his side. It was the Divine Ascension Sword. Somewhere nearby, another blade was still humming, but he was someone who knew how to separate duty from desire.

“I’m leaving it with you for now. Take care of it.”

“I will become it.”

“What?”

“A notary of the Golden Line Oath.”

Even in the midst of chaos, elegance and composure flowed through the space between these supreme masters.

Yeom Jeong approached Yong Hui-myeong.

Step.

[Failed sword. You spoke as if you could die with me. But with the sword you’ve learned, that won’t happen.]

“You’re too sure of yourself.”

[There aren’t many blades that can counter my Absolute Martial Domain. A strong sword that has defied the flow of time, or one that held its conviction through great torment... Even so, you said you were the head of the Divine Sword Corps? A man like you who always deceives others won’t manage it.]

Yeom Jeong turned the crescent blade downward at an angle, rotating it behind her back. In that moment, countless secret principles soaked into the reddish spear-blade.

Ten Firm Pillars.

Large Circulating Movement.

Channeling Qi into the Blade.

The space, overwhelmed by massive force, twisted silently. A round, colorless mandala spread from her like the seal in a temple hall.

Yeom Jeong spoke.

[Namje, don’t interfere. That one’s time means nothing to me.]

[The Northern Emperor’s foot is pointed at me. He’s the fastest in the world. Of course I won’t interfere.]

The voices of the Six Origin Star Generals fell like nicknames from the sky. Their echo always transcended.

Then—

[Then it’s my turn.]

Another echo interrupted calmly.

Divine Sword Corps Chief Yong Hui-myeong.

[You mentioned deceit. But the one I truly fool... is myself.]

He smiled like a scholar on a walk, his hands empty.

Duuung—

In that moment, a ripple spread from Yong Hui-myeong’s worn leather shoes, as if across the surface of a lake.

[All kinds of desire and conflict swirl in my mind. It’s always complicated.]

Far off in the distance, a roar seemed to echo faintly.

[......!]

Yeom Jeong, who had been charging toward Yong Hui-myeong, suddenly froze. A massive shadow had fallen over her head.

At some point—

The entire palace had changed into a different landscape.

Yong Hui-myeong’s divine aura had merged with the divine spirit of his upper danjeon, forming this space.

It shimmered like a dream.

Surrounding it were endless towering trees, the scent of thick grass, and small figures hammering away beneath a distant mountain slope.

Somehow, Yong Hui-myeong was gone.

Behind Yeom Jeong stood a cave.

A cavern larger than any fortress, its gaping maw opened like a pit of the abyss. So tall it forced the head to bend straight back.

[What kind of world has this man been holding inside...!]

With a shocked incantation, Yeom Jeong’s body blurred in place.

Just before she could find Yong Hui-myeong with overwhelming movement technique—

It activated, mocking the concept of time.

Absolute Martial Domain.

[Dragon Sword Looks Homeward.]

—Can I live as a person?

That incantation, like a vast breath, echoed from behind Yeom Jeong.

There was no trick to it—just the pure prelude of a released strike.

Goosebumps raced down her neck for a moment, and then the cave was suddenly flooded with crimson light.

Uuuuuuuuuung—

Yeom Jeong’s crescent blade spun like lightning and distorted the interior of the cave.

At the same time, the friction heat of a sword wind—no different from a blazing red thunderbolt—swallowed her whole and slammed her downward.

Kwaaaaaaaaaaaaang—

It plowed deep into the earth.