The rustle of silk hems spread softly like a mountain breeze.

A group of seventeen was visible from the outside. Sixteen among them had youthful faces and a noble appearance. Every step they took carried a gentle precision.

Rustle.

Even when they stepped on the brittle tips of dry grass, the foliage wasn’t crushed. All of them were masters of “Walking on Grass.”

At the center of the procession, sixteen people in blue official robes bore the massive palanquin’s legs. Four legs in total, each supported by four people.

Sometimes, famous martial artists in the Jianghu would use a four-person palanquin to flaunt their status.

But the palanquin borne by these sixteen individuals had been designed from the start for luxurious ceremonial display.

Like now—when it required four people just to carry a single leg.

A transport once used by the founding ancestor of the empire.

“It has begun.”

A woman’s voice buzzed from within the palanquin. It sounded like wind pushing through the hollow of an ancient tree.

“......”

None of those carrying the palanquin responded. From the beginning, only one person was permitted to speak.

An old man, separate from the procession as if not part of it, walked alongside. With hands folded behind his back, the hilt of a sword stuck out from the space between the white folds of his sleeves and his belt.

Songmoon. As the name implied, the blade bore an engraved pine tree pattern.

The surrounding vegetation leaned slightly toward the old man—as if he were the axis of nature itself.

In contrast, the blades of grass the palanquin passed over bowed their heads.

Only after glancing at this sight did the old man with the Songmoon Sword finally move his white beard.

“...What has begun?”

“There is no one in the palace unaware that the Head of Wudang has succumbed deeply to demonic influence. If the Outsider’s Blade is still alive, then so is the Demon Blade. But I haven’t the luxury of time for speculation. Be quicker with your responses henceforth.”

But the Immortal Preceptor Hyeon-gong said nothing, continuing to walk in silence—until the voice of the Ming Imperial Grand Empress Dowager resumed from within the palanquin moments later.

“I’ve moved the Royal Court of Reverent Rites.”

“Public Rite Office...?”

“I’ve stripped Seomye of his proxy office and plan to bestow upon him the title of National Sword.”

“That’s quite unnecessary.”

“Shingeom Master and his deputy—there’s no difference between the two in a land full of ravenous mongrels like the Demon Realm. But Ming is different. How could you possibly grasp the complex tides of court politics?”

With her old-fashioned speech, the topic naturally turned to Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin. And for once, Hyeon-gong's words continued for longer than usual.

“Can Gongyangcheon alone handle the Stone Blade Division? I’ve heard rumors that the elite purge of the Seom Clan might actually occur.”

“Indeed, without heavenly terrain and reinforcements, the Divine Sword Corps cannot be suppressed by force. Yangcheon of the Royal Court is merely a public notary of imperial decree. High-born, unrestricted in movement... someone like that merely conveying the royal court’s stance is enough to trap Iphwang Fortress at a crossroads.”

The Grand Empress Dowager’s voice was slow, like a caterpillar crawling up tree bark, and it carried nothing but indifference.

Hyeon-gong asked,

“Isn’t this a situation where strength should be united instead...?”

“The Ming Empire is a nation where public sentiment and legitimacy matter as much as force—unlike the barbaric North. A newly rising dynasty’s potential to open the heavens is more dangerous than spirits and demons. The threats arriving on this land can be subdued by the royal family, the elite clans of Jianghu, the Four Great Protectors of the Celestial Register, and the Lord of Iphwang Fortress.”

“The deviation has struck hard.”

Hyeon-gong muttered to himself, but only the sixteen palanquin bearers glared at him. The Empress Dowager simply continued speaking.

“Transcendence. The sword that bears the lives of the world’s people generation after generation will always carry the people’s will throughout the Ming Empire. It is a symbol the Northern Dynasty must not obtain. Seomye must remain a proxy. That way, with incomplete symbolism and limited forces from the Divine Sword Corps, he’ll remain confined to the North.”

“Then hand it over to me. That sword of transcendence, the Ipshin Sword.”

A sudden voice intruded from above.

The procession halted.

A middle-aged man squatted on a thin tree branch, leisurely looking down at the Grand Empress Dowager’s retinue.

“I hear the Ipshin Sword would be better off in the hands of a worthless pawn like me. With the current state of the Ming court, even the Yong Clan must be wary, no?”

A response immediately came from the palanquin, as if they’d known all along.

“So it’s true. The rumors said the War Dragon Demon had volunteered as a scout for a rebel sect—now confirmed. I sensed you already and was in doubt.”

At her words, Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol, leader of the Mu Ryong Association, smiled faintly.

“The Daesun Alliance is no rebel sect. It’s the only major faction in Jianghu that has distanced itself from the already fallen Ming and aims to realize the long-held dream of martial non-interference.”

“Come down. If you join my procession, I shall pardon your past crimes and grant you any post you desire.”

“I don’t need an office. But if you grant me two things, I might consider it. A one-on-one duel with Yong Hui-myeong of the Divine Sword Corps, and the Ipshin Sword. I came here today to ask of Yong Hui-myeong’s whereabouts. Which gate is he in?”

“You overstep. Have you no regard for your life?”

Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol’s smile deepened.

“You seem unaware that there’s no freer existence than an unmatched master who’s unconcerned with status. The Wudang sect leader is just a mad old man anyway. But you—can you, with your aged body, really run faster than the Lord of the Beggars’ Sect? Do you think I’ll let myself be caught...?”

“This procession heads for the Grand Gate of the World, so it’s only proper you know. If you continue to follow, you won’t see the Sword of Transcendence—but the Sword of Annihilation.”

“You mean the Lord of Iphwang Fortress? Even the old greatest under heaven has reached the end of his rope. Your alliance hasn’t given a clear reason, but one ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) can tell from his recent movements.”

“And you dare speak of her fate?”

“I have no time for meaningless debates. Continue onward. Even if I don’t find Yong Hui-myeong, locating the Lord of Iphwang Fortress is a major gain for our alliance. Whether you know it or not, one of the Daesun Alliance’s current priorities is to uncover the ‘Secrets of the World’ your side has been hiding.”

“Drive him off.”

The Empress Dowager’s command was followed instantly by the palanquin bearers’ bodies fading into a blur.

The Sixteen Martial Illustrators—Muhwa Sixteen Branches—known for their orthodox inheritance of the Ming clan’s ultimate techniques.

Whoosh!

A pale green wind spiraled around them, spreading in all directions. Right there, they triggered a sort of sword formation, mixing internal energy into the surrounding breeze.

Even the air drawn through the nose became like sword qi.

In an instant, a translucent current of inner force—Mystic Jade Robe of Solitary Silence—flared around Hyeon-gong’s body like a protective garment, and Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol leapt upward, landing loosely on a branch overhead.

“A natural sword manifested through a harmonic formation...?”

He chuckled under his breath.

This was the reason the Ming’s Zhu clan had managed to overlay imperial rule atop a powerful martial realm, even walling off the Demon Realm to the north. Even in chaotic times like these, they could engage in political maneuvering and prepare for the future. This was the fundamental military strength that had made the nation a nation.

No strength was excluded. Even the weak were strong.

“The way of wind is the absolute art of the world—the very foundation of this country. If you don’t want to clash, you’d best run far away.”

The Empress Dowager’s voice was utterly dry. It starkly contrasted with the vivid smile stretched across the face of the Mu Ryong Association’s leader.

“It seems the Ming clan still refuses to acknowledge the great tide of the era. No matter how desperately you struggle to deny it, there is no nation left on this land.”

“Die.”

“It’s now the age of Jianghu. And...”

Suddenly, a single wisp of green wind crumbled with a sharp whoosh in the clenched hand of Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol.

“We are the Jianghu Martial World.”

***

Under Heaven.

More than five hundred martial artists of the Divine Sword Corps encircled the white snowfield. Within the formation stood the peerless blood demons of the Imperial Blood Clan, each in their own stance. And before the Blade of Transcendence stood the three Masters of the Divine Sword Corps, their faded violet robes fluttering in unison.

This scene transcended the scope of any single martial faction.

It was too few to found a nation, yet far more than enough to bring one to ruin.

Several breaths passed within the white stillness.

That was how long it took for every expert of the Divine Sword Corps to settle their internal energy circulation and breathing.

It was a moment where all were expected to attest their pledge, yet none urged another to hurry. As if they all knew Jeong Yeon-shin would never wish for such haste.

The symbolism of the Blade of Transcendence was something that, by nature, applied more to Ipwang Fortress than to the imperial throne. The personal resolve and acknowledgment of the Divine Sword Corps’ masters took precedence over all else.

“Hm...”

Even if one of the Three Imperial High Protectors were to descend from the heavens and silently stand on the edge of a cliff, nothing could interrupt the succession ceremony of the Blade of Transcendence.

Such was the proof of how far the voice of the Court of Reverent Rites’ Lord of Yangcheon had traveled.

Saaa—

A fierce wind swept up from the ground. In its wake, white snowflakes scattered and danced. The northern wind only added to the solemn atmosphere.

“I may not have delivered the second imperial decree yet, but you all seem awfully unhurried.”

A middle-aged man stood at the edge of a pale cliff and spoke.

He was the Lord of the Court of Reverent Rites, Yangcheon.

A peerless master known to rival even the Prince of Gungmyeong, he had studied directly under the Divine Skill of the late Emperor Gunreung.

Once trapped within the Moonless Martial Cage of Mun Gok and Yeom Jeong, he had still managed to safely withdraw thousands of Ming warriors—and though broken in body, he had returned, now fully restored.

“Where’s dear Eo Ung-gong? I’ve got my own obligations, you see. I can’t just keep standing around...”

His impression matched the tone—laid-back, even affable. Though clearly in his forties at least, not a wrinkle marked his face.

He wore a rough fur cloak like a northern peasant and casually had an old fishing rod slung over his shoulder.

[Here.]

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Just then, Yong Hui-myeong, who had until now been watching the masters of the Divine Sword Corps with a strangely wistful gaze, slowly opened his mouth.

[I hereby invoke the authority of the Master of Ipwang Fortress’s Divine Sword Corps. The matter concerns the fortress’s greatest ceremony: the succession of the Blade of Transcendence.]

“......”

[This was promised to the acting Master upon our victory at the Grand Black Path Tournament. All rites of succession to the Blade of Transcendence shall be fulfilled upon that pact alone.]

“You were always a gentlemanly rogue, weren’t you, Yongga? Even now, you still believe your word takes precedence over an imperial edict... Haven’t changed one bit. Looks like you’ve walked to the brink of death too.”

Soon, Yangcheon drew the fishing rod from his shoulder and tapped it lightly on the ground.

“There are too many eyes watching, so I’d best deliver the second edict now. ‘All officials of the Ming imperial court present must do their utmost to ensure the decree is honored.’ That means you, Lord Eo Ung-gong.”

[...Heaven’s One Feather Order.]

Suddenly, the voice of a youthful boy echoed from the sky and struck the earth.

Wooooooooooong! 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Transparent sunlight gathered from above like a pillar and encircled the snowfield in a ring of shockwaves. At the same time, the snow-covered ground flipped and rippled like waves.

It was a technique that used the brightness of noon as an energy-dispersing force.

The vast sunlight formed a cylindrical barrier around the Divine Sword Corps’ encampment. The undulating shimmer of light seemed to pulse like living water—an overwhelming wave of kinetic power.

Should that light narrow further, it would appear as a single, massive spear.

At that moment, Yangcheon’s lips curled upward faintly, tasting something bitter.

“Were you guarding them after all? Well, nicely done. My Moonless Martial Cage isn’t suited for this land anyway.”

[And the next decree?]

Eo Ung-gong’s voice echoed from within the light, but Yangcheon simply stared at Jeong Yeon-shin in silence for a while. Then, he murmured:

“A country... a clan... order... ideals... In this chaotic world, what should be prioritized first?”

That was when—

After receiving a whispered message from Yong Hui-myeong, Jeong Yeon-shin, standing in the heart of the snowfield, placed his hand upon the hilt of the Blade of Transcendence.

A pale radiance spread from the vibration of Yong Hui-myeong’s six-fold perfected force. A brief exchange passed between them.

[The wielder of the sword shall protect the people beneath heaven.]

“Yes.”

[Though the divine sword is sharp, it remains but dust beneath the heavens.]

“Yes.”

[The beat of your heart shall breathe with the common folk; once you step into the realm of divinity, you can no longer live as a man.]

“Yes.”

[To Seomye of the Jeong Family—this is declared.]

“Present it.”

[You are now the rightful Master of the Divine Sword Corps and Wielder of the Blade of Transcendence. You are the proxy of Lord Wi Gun-hye of Hokwang Fortress, and the most noble person in all the martial world.]

Ssssh.

In Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand, the ashen hilt of the sword was turned upside down.

Perhaps it was because the sunlight rippled in every direction—but in this moment, the Blade of Transcendence devoured all light and gleamed with razor intensity. As if forcing countless expressions upon its new master.

“......”

But Jeong Yeon-shin’s face remained calm. His expression unreadable. Even the Seventh Apostle, who had quietly slipped from her bed, tilted her head slightly to study him.

By that time—

The radiant wall unleashed by Eo Ung-gong had begun to close in, crushing one Divine Sword Corps barrack after another, and Yangcheon lightly flicked his fishing rod.

“Let’s begin, then. The end of this succession ceremony is for us to be struck down. Only then will I have grounds to act...”

And then—

“...!”

Pwoooosh—!

Suddenly, an unrealistically massive fist burst through the wall of light and seized Yangcheon’s entire body in an instant. A single, overwhelming strike in the blink of an eye.

“Your humble servant comes first. Uninvited guests, kindly stand down.”

The voice boomed without even activating Moonless Martial Cage. It resounded as if echoing from the depths of an abyss, all the way up through the snowfield.

“I request a council with the Northern Emperor of All Under Heaven.”

And with those words—like a lie—

The giant, Mun Gok, tore through the wall of radiance and entered.