The Imperial Palace of Supreme Harmony.

The largest and most symbolic palace in all of Ming.

At this moment, it was thick with the scent of ink—an odor steeped in urgency, emanating from countless reports marked Extremely Urgent.

Civil and military officials in robes of various colors stood upright like scholars from the Hall of Worthies, thumbing through sheafs of documents.

—The Northern Champion, commonly known as Namje, reported deceased. Circumstances suggest a parting statement tantamount to an official end to hostilities.

—Prior to that, a prolonged conversation was confirmed. Possible unauthorized diplomacy or secret collusion. Suspected overreach by Lord Seomye Jeong, first count.

—Sub-Dan Master Jin Myeong-jo of the Divine Sword Corps, along with Black Swords of the unit, escorted Lord Seomye Jeong out of the Black Blade Palace. The Dan Master Yong himself accompanied them.

—Pursuit by the so-called Law King and the Black Blade Army was blocked by Mun Gok of the Six Original Star Lords. Namje’s final words likely played a major role. Suspected overreach by Lord Jeong, second count.

—Status of Ipwang Fortress’s Dark Blade forces remains unclear.

—Mun Gok of the Six Star Lords forced to retreat south. Pressured by combined assault from Lord Jeong Yun-jong of the Merchant Guild and Lord Man Hwi of Cheongeuk Sect. This news must be relayed to Geyong Gate. Mun Gok is a peerless master of swift, decisive battles known for cannibalism—an overwhelming northern monster capable of trespassing across Ming’s vast territory.

—Thirty thousand troops of the Black Blade halted their march just before the death of the Bloodflame Cult Mistress, Lady Jeok. Raised by the previous Bloodflame Cult Leader, Baek Rak, she had previously clashed with Lord Wi of Ipwang Fortress. Classified as a rebel. A woman who has had multiple close dealings with Lord Seomye Jeong.

—Thirty thousand of the Black Blade Army remain silent.

—Confirmed: Ming Cult Leader Yaryul Jin manifested in the Black Blade Palace. Notable. No direct conflict with the Divine Sword Corps.

—Namje and Bukdo killed in action. Status of Six Star Lord Yeom Jeong unknown. Survival of three generations of Divine Sword Corps leaders confirmed. Following their mission’s completion, the unit withdrew. Remaining details are unverifiable.

—In effect, the northern campaign was a success.

—Reevaluation of Lord Seomye Jeong’s influence and threat level is imperative. Debate on whether to refer to him as Lord or Master has arisen within the Eastern Secretariat, Western Secretariat, and the Grand Internal Council.

—All of the above was verified by the “Wind King” of the Grand Empress Dowager.

The reports concluded with the assertion: All of this is fact. All throughout the Palace of Supreme Harmony, deep breaths and subtle sighs from practitioners of internal arts rippled through the air.

“Her Majesty the Grand Empress Dowager...?”

“She has departed with the Head of Wudang Sect toward the roots of the Celestial Tree. They say the momentum of the Great Righteous Alliance is astonishing.”

“What if she encounters the soulless Greatest Sword Under Heaven...? The Master of Shattered Blades, no less. The disasters sweeping the martial world right now are countless.”

“Lord Seomye Jeong is no different. Focus on the agenda.”

Meanwhile, deep within the palace—

A man stood backed by six golden pillars.

His face, shadowed faintly beneath his eyes, bore features so refined they were nearly beautiful—proof of noble lineage. Yet his expression was overtly irritable.

Emperor Yungjeong, Zhu Youge.

“......”

He sat slouched upon a golden throne coiled with the small body of a dragon. He had inherited the throne from his father, Emperor Gunreung, but spent a prolonged time as Crown Prince, during which he lost both public favor and loyalty.

This was due to the indulgent life he had led, assuming his father would occupy the throne eternally.

His dragon robe, embroidered with the sun and moon on each shoulder, differed greatly from Gunreung’s. The way he leaned against the ornate throne back made him seem suspended, adrift.

His lashes, dense like the bars of a prison, gradually settled over the ministers who had begun their debates.

“Regardless, naming him the National Sword is appropriate.”

“Isn’t that just exile?”

“Speak like that, and what will those manning the Great Wall think? That’s the most honorable post under heaven. A master who has received the Yellow Axe from the late emperor is the one who leads its defense.”

“If we show even a hint of that intention to the violet-cloaked master of Ipwang Fortress, we risk a repeat of the Tyrant Hero Rebellion.”

“The Tyrant Hero Rebellion? Are you really going to bring that up?”

“The Wilderness is strength beyond measure. Annihilation implies that things like etiquette and principle are useless. When you combine such strength and nature, how is he any lesser than the Tyrant Hero of that era?”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s epithet was Wilderness Annihilation.

No one in the Forbidden City dared utter the name Northern Emperor. Even a first-rank minister would be staking his life to do so.

At the same time, none among them belittled Jeong Yeon-shin.

Perhaps some loyalists of Ipwang Fortress were secretly listening in, but even aside from that, there was no strategic gain in slandering him.

They only spoke in terms of statecraft. And that, in itself, was noble.

Then, a man in scarlet robes trailing to his heels spoke in a slow tone.

“Exile is not the right term. If we bestow upon Lord Jeong a post equivalent to Grand Commander of the Great Wall, that’s a show of trust befitting his incomprehensible accomplishments.”

The sharply pointed ears and ice-blue eyes like the North Sea revealed his bloodline. He stood closest to the throne.

Gate Sword Cheon O-ryeong.

Known as the “Lockblade” in the northern martial world—thus Gate Sword.

He had replaced the late Chief Eunuch Sa Rae-tae, who was slain by the Martial God, and now held the most supreme position. Currently, he served as the sitting Chief Eunuch, and was also the second cousin once removed of Seonmok Lady Lord Cheon So-so.

Next to him, a middle-aged woman in crimson also nodded.

Her appearance was flawless—no stray hairs peeked from her ceremonial crown, and even while standing just ten steps from the emperor, she clasped a gray iron fan behind her back.

“That will do.”

Iron-Blood Fan, Jegal Moran.

Elevated to Grand Secretariat after Emperor Yungjeong’s coronation. The late Lord of the Jegal Clan’s sister. Once a highly respected scholar of the Hall of Worthies.

She had been demoted to managing Ming’s historical texts in the Wen Zhao Pavilion after the scandals involving her brother, but recently caught the Grand Empress Dowager’s attention and was promoted again.

Her sharp wit and formidable martial ability were highly praised.

“Lord Seomye Jeong...”

As she opened her lips, the surroundings fell silent. When she ascended to power, she had erased her humiliation with biting speech and domineering charisma.

“...They say he’s won great favor among the northern people. In that case, rather than leaving him in the north, it is better to summon him to the Forbidden City. If Lord Jeong were to serve as Grand Mentor by His Majesty’s side, there would be no room for unrest in the political realm.”

To this, Cheon O-ryeong replied flatly.

“Reasonable.”

“The trust of the nation in the violet cloak of Ipwang is clear. There are rumors about Lord Jeong’s personality beyond the palace, yes—but no one questions the judgment of Lord Wi of Ipwang Fortress. The fact that he remains in the north is already an expression of our trust.”

“That’ll do, then.”

Cheon O-ryeong said.

Emperor Yungjeong still sat adrift upon his throne. Not one official looked his way.

“A heartwarming debate,”

He muttered under his breath.

Only then did Cheon O-ryeong glance up at him.

“Your Majesty, the Yozoku warriors are fighters who cannot be trusted with promises of peace. The Great Wall must remain sealed. Based on Lord Seomye Jeong’s past conduct, it is only proper that he remain immersed in the martial world as the National Sword.”

Cheon O-ryeong was a rare full-blooded noble. His blood was purer than Emperor Yungjeong’s, who had Han lineage.

He was also the Grand Empress Dowager’s confidant—his shadow in these court meetings was tantamount to her own presence.

Naturally, Emperor Yungjeong had no room to act freely. His reign was under full regency.

Soon, Jegal Moran herself brought up the fate of Jeong Yeon-shin—the man who had killed her brother.

“Let us tie a decree to the Imperial Swallow and release it. All sacred animals of the royal house remember Lord Jeong’s scent. The moment the swallow takes flight, the command shall be considered delivered.”

Such was how the Ming’s blade was forged—through words and calligraphy.

Anyone within the empire must endure such political bladeplay.

Other royal ministers agreed with both speakers.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

They held power greater than martial prowess—for they never died.

Jeong Yeon-shin was far away in the Demonic Realm, and even if he bore the violet cloak, anyone trying to harm the Grand Empress Dowager’s confidants would have to consider the aftermath first.

Moreover, from the detailed reports they had reviewed, the Ming court knew that the current Divine Sword Corps Commander was sensitive to reputation and merit.

This was a matter of national stability.

There was no justification to refuse.

“Your Majesty.”

The call of Gwangeom Cheon O-ryeong.

Only after all discussion had ended did the attention of all civil and military officials turn to Emperor Yungjeong. If the words “I grant permission” came out, that would be the end.

“...In my opinion,”

Yungjeong slowly parted his lips.

“This is a matter that ought to be consulted with the elders connected to the roots of the Heavenly Tree. Affairs of the state are the duties of the ministers, yes—but nothing of this magnitude has occurred since my ascension. Now, Seomye of Ipwang Fortress is such a person.”

The one who answered with the smoothness of flowing water was Jegal Moran.

“It’s hard to know where they might be now. The roots of the Heavenly Tree are connected to the many ‘Gates’ of the world, and the root established in Beijing was placed directly behind the Forbidden City by the noble will of the Shengzu Emperor, was it not?”

“So?”

“They must’ve already gone inside the Gate. And they will have exited through another root of the Heavenly Tree using the Empress Dowager’s Secret Divine Technique. Seeking the elders of the state will take quite a bit of time. Mount Wudang, Mount Song, the middle reaches of the Yangtze, the main fortress of Ipwang... there are many possible destinations. They will have gone where they were needed.”

“I wish it. No matter how long it takes, make a careful decision. I'd rather appoint Seomye as the Imperial Taesa. He is worthy.”

Gwangeom Cheon O-ryeong slowly shook his head. His face remained as expressionless as ever.

“Your Majesty, the many noble families of the world are watching the Forbidden City from beyond the Beijing walls. I beg Your Majesty to reflect.”

―We beg Your Majesty to reflect!

The voices of civil and military officials erupted like a massive echoing wave, and suddenly, a lone swallow landed on Cheon O-ryeong’s shoulder.

A tiny scroll was already tied to the spiritual swallow’s leg. If sent off as-is, the imperial command would reach the deputy of the Divine Sword Sect Leader.

Peep―

The swallow tilted its head, peering up at Emperor Yungjeong. Reflected in the tiny spiritual beast’s eyes, the emperor’s face bore an expression masked as boredom but straining to contain great fury.

Then—

Thud.

One part of the high ceiling subtly crumpled as if a transparent giant had gently pressed it with a fist through thin paper.

“...?”

The officials who had just been chanting “reflect” all fell silent. This was a place filled only with those highly attuned to ki. Silence fell in an instant.

Thud.

It felt like a light knock at the door.

As if someone were asking, is anyone there?

But no one opened their mouth. Most present had awakened their Divine Core. A deep instinct warned them not to speak—a pull that sucked at their unconscious minds like a swamp.

Thud.

The Golden Dragon sculpture affixed to the ceiling looked down over the great hall.

Its golden body coiled in countless circular loops, and from one of those loops, a faint ripple spread. It spread deeper with the growing stillness.

Suddenly, a scholar at the far end of the formation wearing blue official robes widened his eyes. He had grasped a small realization.

“The Heavenly Tree’s root inside the Gate...?”

As soon as his murmured words spilled out, the dull reverberations subtly ceased.

“......”

A silence that thickened like dry cloth.

Then, as if in realization, a loud thud― echoed again, and in the blink of an eye, the heads of the high officials in red robes—Cheon O-ryeong, Jegal Moran, and others—and the body of the spiritual swallow exploded like a dream being torn ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) apart.

Pwoosh!

“Namje, my dear friend.”

A voice crashed down, shattering space itself. A massive limping figure was now standing upside down on the cracked ceiling, covered in spiderweb-like fractures.

His single eye fixated on a scroll rolling across the floor.

Beijing. The Forbidden City.

“So you've already gone.”

The God of War had arrived in Zhongyuan.

***

Two figures emerged from the cluster of golden rooftops. One hobbled forward, the other was dragged like a bundle.

“I am a man of vulgar heart, incapable of rising above grudges. The only way I can forget resentment is through battle.”

The God of War who had suddenly appeared and collapsed the Forbidden City, and Emperor Yungjeong, who had always been a mere puppet. At this moment, it was unclear whether the God of War was speaking to Yungjeong or merely muttering aloud, unable to express his feelings.

“Yes. I shall honor you in the eternal prison of time.”

Spoke the one-eyed cripple.

His back turned to the ruins that were once the Forbidden City.

Fwoosh― Rumble!

The bronze braziers set between the thick columns blazed red-hot, and countless whirlpools of blood spiraled upward.

It was like a mix of Mun Gok’s energy projection from the Six Liu Yuan Star Lords and Bukdo’s blade wind.

Clouds had already split apart to either side.

Their surface dyed with blood as if the skin of a giant had been gashed.

The godlike energy projection etched itself into space, sending up a never-ending mist of blood. At that moment, the sky above the Forbidden City was overrun—and the wave spread all the way across Beijing.

A blood-red sky. A Crimson Heaven.

The enormous cripple continued southward, ever southward. His voice cracked with dryness, muttering drunkenly to himself. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

“I should pluck the fruit of the Heavenly Tree first.”

In one hand, he held a gourd bottle emitting a heavy scent of alcohol. His pale breath already carried a faint intoxication.

Step.

Emperor Yungjeong, unconscious, was dragged along by his nape, scraping the ground. Thus, in the heart of Guandu, two deep ruts were carved, as fleeting as the Ming imperial dynasty.

“What! What is happening?!”

“Is that the imperial robe? His Majesty...?!”

It didn’t take long for word of the Forbidden City’s collapse to spread like wildfire.

Before the Divine Sword Corps began their march south—

In the south of the Yangtze, the Great Righteous Alliance had devoured several major sects and influential families, and now it bloomed under the sword of a man once ranked seventh on the northern martial world’s register. The Heavenly Tree moved its massive roots like legs, stirring one catastrophe after another.

Meanwhile, in a land where the fallen prince who had lost his soul wandered aimlessly after acquiring the Three Styles of Wasteland Destruction—

The God of War stepped forward across the vast earth.

“Hm... It’s a different direction. Guess stopping by Ipwang Fortress won’t be easy.”

He looked down at the unconscious Emperor Yungjeong and smiled slightly.

“Let’s take our time. This is my final journey.”

It was the age of Murim’s martial world.

***

The emperor of this age.

From a distant peak in the demon-infested wilderness came the roaring chants of Yozoku warriors calling for Jeong Yeon-shin. “Northern Emperor,” “Young God of War,” “Sword Heaven”—those words pierced the ears of the unconscious man.

There is still a great task remaining.

He would have to face the seniors of Ipwang Fortress who now knew much. He had already reached insight through his Divine Core.

‘Damn it.’

He muttered in the depths of a deep dream.