Right after thrusting his sword at Sambong Zhenren, Jeong Yeon-shin felt a faint ripple of fine hair rise on the back of his hand. From his chest, only two layers of the radiance remained, beating with a deep sound.

Before he knew it, the surroundings had grown as dark as the deep waters beneath Hangzhou’s rivers. The sword engraved with a pine pattern had just drawn a large circle like a shield in the wrinkled hands of Sambong Zhenren. The pale sword path he left behind was slowly fading into the darkness. As if the sword that had leapt forward had fulfilled its purpose the moment it deflected the ascending blade.

Post-initiative supremacy.

A taiji devoid of color, as if worn down by the dusty winds of the world.

“......”

The trajectory slowly blurred, gently stirring Jeong Yeon-shin’s consciousness.

In an instant, even Great Master Wonjeok, Geumbyeokja, the young master, Wolpung, and Wi Yeon vanished from his sight.

Now, only Jeong Yeon-shin and Sambong Zhenren remained in the world.

‘A mental space.’

Jeong Yeon-shin asked softly,

“Has time stopped?”

Sambong Zhenren, gazing at him quietly, slowly shook his head.

“We are simply faster.”

“What...?”

“When swordsmen meet in a life-and-death duel, their conversation happens through swords and glances. Is that not more vivid than any words from the mouth? We have just crossed swords.”

“......”

“Come to think of it, the teaching of 'the Way that can be spoken is not the eternal Way' applies even to swordplay. Once you clash blades even once, a deeper truth is exchanged than a hundred words.”

Sambong Zhenren chuckled as he finished speaking.

With a ringing—chaaaang.

In an incomprehensible space, with playful speech and gestures. It was not a situation to be taken lightly, but Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t mind. After all, he himself possessed arts beyond counting on his fingers. Sambong Zhenren would be no different. Here, it was right to ask only the necessary questions.

“Why do you pretend to be unaware? If people knew that the repetition of time doesn't work on you, they'd give up on the Cheonhamok.”

He skipped one question: how Sambong Zhenren was aware of the regression.

Perhaps because of that, Sambong Zhenren smiled faintly and asked back,

“You think I wouldn't know?”

Jeong Yeon-shin paused briefly.

It was the first time anyone had referred to Cheonhamok in such a way.

“Then...?”

“A tree that inspired Wudang’s Twofold Heart Technique. By splitting consciousness dozens, hundreds of times, it eventually took root in time and space themselves. It is the original culprit that created this place.”

As Sambong Zhenren lightly spread his arms as if loosening up, the old ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Songmun Sword at his waist clattered faintly.

When had it returned to its sheath?

He himself did not know.

“For a tree, it’s enough to discover something if lucky; otherwise, it just waits. Like a fisherman in a remote village who lays down his net and hums forever. Waiting for something to get caught... Isn’t it rather poetic?”

“Quite chilling, actually. Barely even human.”

At Jeong Yeon-shin’s honest remark, Sambong Zhenren roared with laughter.

“I agree. The truly interesting thing is the human Jianghu, where people tangle and clash. The Jianghu you live in and try to protect.”

Jeong Yeon-shin silently looked down at the tip of the ascending sword.

At the same time, he inwardly repeated the words he had once heard from his maternal grandfather and Great Monk Beomheo.

Live in the human Jianghu...

“You didn’t find it very enjoyable, it seems. Truth be told, neither did I.”

The Taoist of the wartime era, who mostly chanted prayers for the dead—

Muttering like that, Sambong Zhenren still looked cheerful throughout. It seemed he found Jeong Yeon-shin’s every move quite amusing.

“In any case.”

“Please ask.”

“Did you truly intend to fight me?”

Sambong Zhenren asked with the innocent air of an old man.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly nodded.

“If I wish to save my master, I must eventually surpass even you, Zhenren. If I were to do so without resorting to miracles, it would take me an incredibly long time, and I am not sure if a human mind can endure such a span...”

Sambong Zhenren smiled warmly and said, “You’d die about thirty-eight thousand times.”

“Before reaching even that point, Cheonhamok would tire first and expel me. That was my true aim.”

At the thought of turning this place into chaos to be naturally expelled, deeper wrinkles creased the old Taoist’s lips.

It was a hollow laugh.

“If you were a disciple of Wudang, you would have received quite the interesting Taoist name.”

Jeong Yeon-shin composed his face seriously.

“There are three things I wish to ask. They are important.” 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

“Speak.”

At Sambong Zhenren’s easy reply, he first asked two things. Why he had not cut down Cheonhamok when he had the chance, and what exact abilities the Natural Sword forged together by Sambong Zhenren and the Lord of Ipwang Fortress possessed.

.......

In a space where even the wind stood still, a soft exchange of questions and answers flowed.

The answers given by Sambong Zhenren were all shocking, requiring Jeong Yeon-shin a moment of stillness before he could ask the last question.

“...Lastly, will the events here affect the future I return to?”

“Hmm?”

“I am not certain. Whether all of this, including you, Zhenren, are merely projections from Great Master Wonjeok’s mind, or whether I have truly traveled through time.”

Everything about his young master feels vivid. The surge of inner energy every time he carefully embraced her against his chest, the softly returned answers to his seemingly casual stories, the sword winds still palpable in his hands, and those jade-green eyes that, at such a young age, already began revealing faint emotions like scattered dust.

When considering the turmoil she would face during the dynastic transition at the end of the Yuan-Ming period and the chaos of Ipwang Fortress’s founding, even when he wanted to step outside, he could not easily turn his back on her.

Sambong Zhenren grinned.

“Half of it is true.”

“Yes?”

“I said before—the tree took root even in time and space. What bears fruit on the Cheonhamok is not only the earth’s energy. The fruit embodies the memories spanning past and future. It is the sacred tree’s greatest survival ability.”

The old Taoist’s gaze curved mischievously.

“Your master, the moment she reached supreme levels in her upper dantian, bloomed that fruit. At the same time, she must have remembered. All the time she spent here. All the regressions.”

And she waited for Jeong Yeon-shin. For a very, very long time.

“......”

“Such a regretful face.”

Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer, and Sambong Zhenren laughed joyfully.

“The tree, by merging with your master, gained memories of the future, wore her body like a garment, understood the past through it, and thus intended to survive longer than anything else under heaven.”

“...Sounds like it didn’t work out.”

“That’s for you to find out. You’ll meet your master again soon.”

“How do you know all this?”

At that, Sambong Zhenren tilted his head slightly and replied,

“Daoist Zhang Sanfeng, surely a name to endure for at least a thousand years, wouldn’t you say?”

The name itself was the answer. Completely different from Jeong Yeon-shin, who once merely called himself a wanderer of the martial world.

Silently nodding, Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his gaze once again to the ascending sword.

Though even the sunlight seemed frozen in this colorless space, a faint shimmer rippled along the long blade.

As if urging its master forward.

Perhaps because he had long dreamed of becoming a master of the ascending sword.

Whenever he grew anxious, it would catch his eye.

It was pure unconsciousness.

“You keep glancing down at it. A precious sword?”

“My beloved sword is a different one. This is... if I must say, my duty, forged into a single blade.”

“The martial power of a swordsman who has reached a certain level changes according to his heart. Don't be bound to mere metal. Your spirit might rust and lose its luster.”

For some reason, Jeong Yeon-shin felt as if Sambong Zhenren was trying to strip him of the title of master of the divine sword. Naturally, it was something he could not allow. The sword worn smooth by generations of divine sword masters was precisely what supported a young man of the turbulent times.

“...I’ll take my leave now.”

“That would be good.”

The moment Sambong Zhenren smiled slyly, bright sunlight began to pour down in beams.

The scent of grass layered over the once colorless mental space. Along with it came the sounds of warhorses stamping and the thunderous noise of splitting air.

‘Five.’

They were approaching rapidly.

“Why are the Yuan martial gods already here...!”

It was Great Master Wonjeok’s shout.

Empress Dowager Wi Yeon had already stepped aside.

Five shadows, united horse and rider, charged toward the young lord of Ipwang Fortress and Wolpung.

The galloping of the horses, resembling the cavalry martial arts of the northern regions, closed the distance with the subtlety of transcendental footwork.

The remnants of the Yuan Dynasty.

Each one known as Blade Heaven, Sword Heaven, Fist Heaven, Spear Heaven, and Horse Heaven.

Those who were said to have even dared challenge the heavens with their internal energy and cavalry skills.

Their epithets reflected in their attire.

Blade, Sword, Spear, Fist, and Horse.

‘They were the ones slain by the grown-up master...!’

Time seemed to whirl around them at an accelerated pace.

Clearly, some interference was at play. There was no need to even guess. It must have been the fragmented consciousness of Cheonhamok that created this regression.

At the same time, Jeong Yeon-shin’s body began to blur.

“......!”

It wasn't because of any defensive technique. As if someone were erasing brushstrokes in a dream, his entire form began to vanish. He was being expelled. Judging by the timing, it was right after he had invoked the greatest closed-door training.

In the end, things had gone according to plan.

―It seems they cannot overlook your growth. It is truly farewell now.

But Sambong Zhenren’s transmission barely followed behind his back.

Before he knew it, Jeong Yeon-shin was stepping through the air above the young master’s head.

With a flick of his finger, he deflected the sword tip of a mounted swordsman who had been about to cleave down upon her.

CHAAAANG!

It was a finger technique imbued with spiritual energy, and the impact soared straight into the sky. He had kicked the shockwave upward using footwork.

Under the overwhelming impact, the head of Yuan martial god Blade Heaven snapped backward, and Jeong Yeon-shin’s long leg arced like a sickle, crushing through the man’s collarbone along with his body.

KWA-GA-GA-GA-KAK— FWASH!

The girl's hair, glistening white-green under the transparent sunlight, was splattered with blood.

But the young master’s eyes simply gazed up at Jeong Yeon-shin without a word.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.

“I hope it didn’t hurt.”

“......”

“Breathe through martial arts.”

His body had already fully adapted through repeated regressions. Having absorbed one layer of radiance, his physical form was beginning to be controlled again within the framework of true movement.

Perhaps he could now challenge even the strength of the battle god and Mun Gok.

‘At least in pure swordsmanship, I could stand against the Natural Sword.’

Jeong Yeon-shin’s already faint body grew even fainter, scattering like constellations.

He slipped between Wolpung and Wi Yeon, who were already fighting the Yuan martial gods, and exploded among the shadows of swords, palms, fists, hands, and feet like a blossoming flower.

CHAJAJAJANG! KWAANG—!

From a body already unleashing the Final Thunder, a dazzling variety of trajectories unraveled.

Massive warhorses and the hulking Yuan martial gods crumpled and burst apart along with their armor.

In an instant, the overlapping roars of destruction pounded the young lord’s eardrums so fiercely that blood burst forth.

―As expected of a remarkable master and disciple. The way you shattered the Yuan martial gods just now closely resembled the way the young lord once annihilated them. Although, as before, I couldn’t catch the detailed movements...

By the time Great Master Wonjeok’s voice flowed into Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind, his body was shimmering like a translucent ghost.

“A martial artist of sorcery...? Who are you?”

It was the old man Wolpung, clad in a pink long robe, who spoke. Jeong Yeon-shin only smiled faintly, offering respect to the first master of the divine sword.

Then, he turned to Sambong Zhenren, who had come close.

―Zhenren, what about Great Master Wonjeok?

―When you return to the outside world, give your master a great shock.

“What kind of conspiracy is this again?”

It was Wolpung.

The shadow of Sambong Zhenren’s hand swelled like a cloud as he faintly furrowed his brow. At the same time, Wolpung’s wrinkled hand moved, blocking the rising palm technique aimed at the back of his head with a bang. Demon Light Bind. A martial technique that peels away illusions.

―Farewell.

Though it shouldn’t have been possible, Sambong Zhenren’s farewell felt as casual as if they would meet again.

Jeong Yeon-shin turned away from him, and looked down at his young master.

Her jade-green eyes were gazing up at him.

‘She will remember all of this someday...’

Even those who had formed entire sects would still polish their martial arts alone at their bedside. Something surged in his chest like a tidal wave. Its momentum even surpassed the radiance, making him wonder, for the first time, if the venerable swordsman had truly possessed the Eye of Insight.

“...You always looked so lonely.”

He spoke slowly.

“I wanted to be your companion, even if only for a fleeting moment.”

The girl’s eyes flickered with a question. Was the word ‘companion’ unfamiliar to her?

Jeong Yeon-shin calmly spoke his early, heavy farewell.

“You know from the battlefield. Memories and resolutions with comrades must be remembered, but forgetting sometimes helps too. The clumsy teachings or rude behaviors of small-time thugs... forgetting them can purify the mind and body...”

The young lord of Ipwang Fortress interrupted.

“O absolute being who moves like the sunlight upon the leaves, I will repay your favor. Hear my true name.”

The girl’s lips moved faintly. A clear sound formed with the breath from her tongue, and Jeong Yeon-shin listened with a somewhat dazed expression.

Three whistles, repeated. Until his entire body became transparent.

WHIII—

The air warmed like spring under the friction heat of martial arts. Where Jeong Yeon-shin had stood, fallen leaves danced and mingled.

The beautiful youth disappeared into the sunset, his long hair fluttering.

―We shall meet again soon.

The voice was tinged with violet.