“Your Majesty the Grand Empress Dowager! The spectacle You are showing now... it far, far exceeds all our expectations...!”

“You’re right. Seomye’s realm is now aiming for Gunreung.”

“Indeed. As long as the supply from the Divine Sword Corps continues as it is, he truly stands on the threshold of the late emperor’s level... I now understand why the Lord of Ipwang Fortress concerns himself only with the Celestial Tree. As famine repeats, the Great Gate expands; it is the fortress lord who holds that, while the great northern nation rests in the hands of the Divine Sword Corps Commander.”

“The great nation, yes... They’re already calling Seomye the Emperor of the North. An absolute ruler surpassing even the Northern King.”

“And what traitor dares call him that...?”

“All the common folk of the Demonic Realm say so. He has won the hearts of the people of the land.”

“Hmph.”

“Some of the Northern King’s retainers even follow Seomye.”

“To call the sword held by the royal family of the enemy state an emperor—! I know it’s a land of brute warriors who know nothing but fighting, but even for their own dignity, they mustn’t do such a thing. Aesingarakra Heukhwan’s rule evidently still can’t begin to compare to that of the late emperor.”

“Seomye must never return. Let him elevate Heukhwan and remain forever as the national sword that seals the North. The post of Divine Sword Corps Commander shall be handed to Yong Hui-myeong.”

“However, Your Majesty. Forgive my insolence, but due to 'that one' and the martial nobility, the situation south of the Yangtze has reached catastrophe. The Hanlimwon has advised on state affairs that even the military power of the Great Wall may need to be deployed south...”

“The divinity of the peerless masters continues to obscure the vision of the Wind King. I can no longer observe the Black Province.”

“Your Majesty, please heed my counsel...”

“It is true I must now look to the South of the Yangtze. That’s why I ordered you to construct the needed formation. Prepare for the return of Seomye, Yong Hui-myeong, and the high command of Ipwang Fortress.”

***

The silence in the Black Palace of the Black Province deepened further. It had already been a long time since the feather storm of Heavenly Patriarch Noban came to a halt.

“......”

The battle between the Northern Emperor and the Southern Emperor.

The outcome was decided naturally, like a page of a book flipped by a strong wind.

From where some stood, Jeong Yeon-shin was no longer visible.

It was because his entire body had been blocked by the massive frame of Namje. What stood out was only one thing—the formless sword strike that pierced clean through Namje’s darkened back.

Yet there were those strong enough to see beyond the limits of line of sight.

Those who had risked their lives in the great battle of the Black Province. The same applied to Mun Gok and the black-uniformed Divine Sword Corps members who had intervened earlier.

Namje, hunched forward.

Jeong Yeon-shin, tilting the deep blue blade up into his solar plexus.

In the midst of everything holding its breath—

The first to react to Northern Emperor Jeong Yeon-shin’s declaration of ceasefire was Jin Myeong-jo.

“...It’s over.”

From the ends of his long white hair, blood dripped slowly.

Even the area below his left shoulder was completely hollow, like the branch of a fruitless tree in famine. Yet even with one arm, his Return to the Root stance remained intact. His energy did not spill.

“Mun Gok, give it up.”

And separately, crimson light like smoke drifted from his eyes. Whether he had strength left or not was impossible to judge.

From the moment the four black-clad fighters stormed into the palace of the Yozoku emperor until now—

Jin Myeong-jo had never once spoken to Jeong Yeon-shin. It was the first time seeing him since learning the lifespan of his junior and superior.

The same held true for Shen Emperor Shin Hwang, Light Blade Squad Captain Hak So-seon, and the Mistress of Yeouicheon, Bukgung Ah.

They had only fought so fiercely to keep Mun Gok and the Dharma King in check. Their sweat-soaked hair now revealed the toll it had taken.

“Ah, you must not have known.”

The giant Mun Gok spoke calmly, his bloodied face smiling faintly.

“The Namje I serve as lord never once unleashed his Salvation Limit Technique. Even when he stood on the verge of death, there was reason not to.”

He spoke with composure, but the most sensitive warriors could feel it clearly. For the first time, a slight tremor quivered in the voice of the one called the greatest external force under heaven.

A monster who valued the grand cause above his own life.

“Just as you believe in the Northern Emperor, I trust and follow Namje with all I am. He showed himself worthy of that for a long time.”

At that moment—

A faint aroma of liquor spread.

***

It was a scent of alcohol with a faint tang of rot. As if the dregs of the wine jar had been fermented with spoiled pulp.

It seemed to seep up slowly from a corner of the Black Palace underground. Perhaps it was a secret storehouse holding the emperor’s belongings.

Until now, it had been sealed off from the surface, but the aftermath of the battle had opened a crack.

Jeong Yeon-shin thought:

‘There might even be the secret manual of the Zhongnan Sword Immortal.’

He recalled his earlier exchange with Namje. The one where he spoke of the world’s swiftest reflex being found in the drunken body of the most joyful man under heaven. Namje’s words had left an impression.

—I already want to share a drink with you. But I won’t ever do so. In a chaotic world, the clans that don’t found a nation walk the path of ruin. I carry too many lives on my shoulders to find another path.

—Then we must measure each other through the martial way.

Since ancient times, rulers sharing a drink signified harmony.

To sit face-to-face and drink meant laying down weapons and recognizing each other’s positions beneath the haze of wine. It was also a symbol of great covenant.

Harder than any victory in battle.

If it were between the Demonic Realm and the Ming Dynasty, it would be a historic moment capable of shifting an era. But such a history had never come to pass.

And the strong of the martial world are even further removed from such grand affairs. The warriors of Ipwang Fortress were no different. They were usually reduced to nothing more than swords wielded by the Ming dynasty’s officials.

It is the Ming royal court that thinks such thoughts.

Great decisions belong to the powerful. Ipwang Fortress is merely a tool for stabilizing the lives of commoners.

That is why some nobles in Beijing devalue the Jianghu world as a lesser realm. That is why the core of the perilous northern border is always held by the Imperial Army.

The roles were simply different.

The power of the Divine Sword Corps may overturn the Demonic Realm, but it cannot conquer it. Mediation between the Demonic Realm and the Ming Dynasty? That is a foolish hope.

What was needed was simply time bought by the evasive and persistent warriors of Ipwang Fortress.

Jeong Yeon-shin knew that.

But he had never left his thoughts to the nation. He always wielded his sword by his own judgment.

Just like now.

Saaa—

The black mist scattered from Namje’s face like grains of sand.

He slowly revealed himself.

His features were fierce and stern, like General Guan Yu born as a Yozoku. He seemed like he would wear the shade of a thick cypress tree as a crown, shadowing his eyes.

A pale white breath escaped beneath his ashen skin.

He spoke.

“There was no Northern Emperor in your sword. Only the weight of others filled it.”

Even one who was not quite human had a face. His act of speaking felt surreal in and of itself.

“Was it one so hollow as you who sought to bring me down?”

Namje asked Jeong Yeon-shin. His voice, deep and smooth, carried an odd note of disappointment.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

“I am the Starry Night.”

The ancient palace had been replaced by Namje’s black mist.

As Jeong Yeon-shin’s deep blue aura filled the hall, spiral waves of martial power looked down upon them from below. Though it looked narrow at a glance, the surrounding space was bathed in a faint white light.

Each one illuminated lives that Jeong Yeon-shin himself could never live—beautifully, and with sorrow.

“...How arrogant.”

The moment Namje spoke, Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision warped, and he felt himself being sucked into something.

FWAHHK!

The next moment, he stood upon entirely different land.

A horizon of green cypress trees swaying like clouds. Land bathed in golden sunlight that shattered over countless stalks of grain.

Jeong Yeon-shin realized immediately.

‘This is Namje’s spiritual world. Time flows differently here.’

If one pushed this world out of the body with spiritual power and cultivation, it would become the Ultimate Martial Way. A literal mindscape. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

All around him, the world was bountiful.

If he unfolded spiral power in a place like this—among these long golden reeds—the waves of energy would dissipate before reaching the horizon. Fragments of stalks would scatter skyward in procession.

Then Namje’s voice hummed through the air.

[This is a southern scene I once witnessed. I don’t know the name of the place. I saw it while being chased by the Imperial Army of the Ming.]

“I’ve never seen fields like this.”

[Many years have passed. To reclaim such scenery, I must crush the Ming royal family and sever the Celestial Tree they guard.]

Jeong Yeon-shin had heard the rumor too—

that ‘a tree with feet is sucking up all the earth’s energy.’

Was that not the very reason the Jeong Household had been exterminated? To destroy the Celestial Tree’s geomantic energy?

Turning toward the distant horizon, Jeong Yeon-shin asked:

“What about the aftermath of felling the Celestial Tree? Can you handle the monsters and spirits that’ll pour out from the Gate? The Celestial Tree is probably holding back hundreds of Flood Dragons.”

[So you knew that much.]

“I’m the Divine Sword Corps Commander.”

[The Celestial Tree’s suppressive function comes from its roots. If you stack a tower of corpses atop its base, the God of War will replace the Lord of Ipwang Fortress. The only ones who suffer in that process are the clans of the Celestial Tree.]

“The Ming clans?”

[Their lifelines and aptitudes come from the Celestial Tree. The reason their ears are long like blades is because they share the essence of the Celestial Tree and spiritual nature. So, if a walking tree loses its trunk, those noble clans will be no different from the Han.]

Such information could only be accessed from the position of an emperor—it was leaking now.

At this moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s consciousness was as though it had been invited into Namje’s upper danjeon, and thus he could distinguish between truth and falsehood with sharper clarity than ever. Like the head of Cheongseong Sect who could never be deceived by false beginnings.

‘There is no lie.’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The towers of corpses piled throughout the Demonic Realm were fueling the Celestial Tree. The role of “Gatekeeper” was to be taken by the God of War.

How old was this plan?

[The Noble Clans. Those who fled from their homeland.]

Namje’s shadow-laced laughter filled the psychic space.

[Those who contributed to the founding of Ming sided with the Noble Clan’s farce to expel the Yuan. They studied fabricated histories like the Grand Outline of the Great Ming, salted with lies, and wielded the great fortress of Ipwang as they pleased under the pretense of stabilizing the people’s livelihood. I find them as revolting as my own kin who eat humans.]

“That’s for me to judge. Just get on with your last words.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke flatly.

He stood taller than the surrounding rice stalks, and in that moment, he appeared to have transcended much.

His gaze, lit with the unique glare of the Sicheon Method, was not on the fields but fixed on the horizon.

Perhaps that was why—

Namje’s voice descending from the heavens paused for a moment. The usual ridicule trailing Ipwang’s warriors did not follow.

‘Is judgment something a nation's sword can exercise?’

A mere blade cannot. But a swordsman wielding it can. Even the Ancient Sword and the Sword Saint had chosen their own ends.

A faint hint of surprise crept into Namje’s voice.

[Has a man of the martial world transcended resentment?]

“No.”

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

“I cannot forget the people whose lives were taken by you. I’m just choosing to see both the small and the grand.”

[The grand?]

“I will end famine.”

The one who said this was the Greatest Sword Under Heaven, grasping a possibility as vast as the night sky.

In Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind, memories of his martial path flowed like rays of light. So many events had taken place.

Many of them had stemmed from base desires, like hoarding wealth. Behind much of it was the chaos that deepened with each recurring famine.

The uprisings of the noble clans.

The weakening grip of the Ming imperial household.

Local officials of integrity fading into extinction.

The Demonic Realm that, after devouring people, had set its sights on founding a new nation.

Amidst all this, Jeong Yeon-shin had witnessed countless righteous warriors die.

He had no choice but to think: What shape does the Ming dynasty take now? It had been so long since he left it.

[Are you planning to cut down even the gates?]

“I can try.”

[That is not something achievable by human means. Even if the Zhongnan Sword Immortal cut down one and ascended, it’s still only a portion compared to the myriad scattered across the realm. You can’t even control your lifespan—how can you dare attempt something greater than that?]

“Are your last words finished?”

In that instant, the sky darkened pitch black. As if Namje’s eyes had flared.

[If you intend to not only end famine but slay my people, then you won’t be allowed to leave.]

Jeong Yeon-shin tested him with a question.

“If your people remain unharmed, does it mean you don’t care what happens to you?”

[Then let me ask you.]

Namje’s archaic voice echoed through the heavens.

[Are you a sword loyal to the Ming, or a righteous wanderer who recognizes no borders under the sky?]

“There’s no need to choose. I do not harm the innocent.”

That was the end of Jeong Yeon-shin’s answer.

Suddenly, the space shattered in the shape of a sword in his grasp, filling with dark blue flames. Simultaneously, Namje’s psychic domain turned into night—and in an instant, reality.

Whoosh!

A cold wind grazed his cheek.

The starry night still lodged in Namje’s chest, and it seemed only a moment had passed. Jeong Yeon-shin opened his mouth slowly.

“I’m a man of Shinya-hyeon who follows righteousness.”

Before he knew it, two things had been drawn by the Mancheon Flower Rain Absorption Seal from the cracks underground into Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand.

One was the torn secret manual of the Zhongnan Sword Immortal. The other was a gourd filled with rotten wine.

Sarak—

The book pressed into Jeong Yeon-shin’s chest on its own.

What remained fully in his grip was the wine gourd.

Even now, Jeong Yeon-shin and Namje’s upper danjeons were tightly entwined with dense spiritual resonance. They had exchanged martial energy for an extraordinarily long time.

In other words, despite being mortal enemies, they could feel each other’s truest self more honestly than any confidant.

Namje exhaled faintly and spoke.

“I once said we’d never share a drink. I cannot wager my life on your word that you won’t harm the innocent.”

“I don’t need a toast.”

From outside, a vast military force could be felt.

A martial army tens of thousands strong—enough that even the greatest martial master would be helpless before it.

At the same time, those Jeong Yeon-shin had brought were overwhelming the black ranks.

The Blood King Clan and the Blood King’s daughter, the Violent Wind Division and its lord, and even the once-grievously wounded Giant Spear Eo Ung-gong—who had recovered enough to fight again—were smashing the army’s perimeter. And somehow, the Drunken Beggar King Jоо Gwang-shin, swifter than ever, had joined the fray.

At this rate, mutual destruction was inevitable. Everyone would die.

One side had to retreat. And they must never clash again.

Namje, still impaled by the starlight, stood at the edge of a decision.

If he used his exalted Wine Arts to trigger regenerative energy, he might lose many subordinates but could plan for the next stage. If he used his Life Severing Ultimate Move to erase all combat presence in the field, he would die—but no more blood would be shed.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin tilted the gourd slowly with the hand that had not grasped the starlight. As if to show he had never intended to toast with Namje in the first place.

“......”

From the shattered earth came a great sound of pouring.

“This land has drunk it.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke bluntly. At the same time, he received the falling starlight from Sword Saint Hyun So-baek with his whole body and asked:

“What are you? A ruler who’s content to live alone in comfort, or an emperor who rose in revolt for the sake of his people?”

In that moment—

For the first time in his life, Namje’s lips curved into a long, smiling arc.

Even the black mist at the edge of his form fluttered like the corners of his mouth, and Namje’s laughter echoed like a wave until it congealed into a single thought.

The emperor who can do anything when facing the south.

―I wager the world ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) on your potential.

Whoosh!

With that, all the energy that had stained the vast field scattered like a dream, and Jeong Yeon-shin’s consciousness slowly dimmed. He was finally receiving the backlash of the Ultimate Martial Way that had repeated until now.

Even in that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin stood silently.

Radiating more pressure than the now-dead Namje, cloaked in an aura of protective energy like a god.