The sword strike of Mount Hua Sect's leader stirred twilight upon the mountain ridge.
The early-risen strands of the setting sun enforced silence, it meant the harmony of the sword was faster than sound.
Rising with a faint crimson light, in the instant it left a violet-tinged trajectory of its slash, the air of Mount Taebaek belatedly trembled, as if being sucked in.
The snowdrifts blanketing the ridgeline in white scattered like a dream. Soon after, an overwhelming explosion erupted.
Kwaaaaaang—!
A fierce gust of wind swept through, carrying flurries of snow in all directions. The underbrush and tree branches revealed their rusted brown of winter.
Jung Yeonshin watched ahead with unblinking eyes. To call it lofty was not enough—it was truly a transcendent sword stroke.
'A realm where one discusses the world alongside the natural hue of violet…'
It felt as if his Baihui acupoint atop his head was expanding into vastness. How long before he could reach such a state? He could not decipher even half of the hundreds of transformations contained within that single strike.
The sword strike, extending in a straight line, harbored an inevitability impossible to evade. As if to say, at the pinnacle of Murim, it ought to be so.
Violet Dawn Sacred Arts and the Twenty-Four Step Plum Blossom Sword.
The techniques of an ancient supreme master did not permit the interpretations of weaker warriors.
It was a dimension apart from what Jung Yeonshin had comprehended by analyzing the bodies and energy states of others until now.
'So this is the fruit of training.'
Time itself was visible. It was stacked above even Jung Yeonshin's discernment.
The leader of one of the Nine Great Sects would not be dull-witted. There was a time when he had observed the cultivated power of Xiahou Wei-Jin, the Forest Striding Squad's leader, and pondered it for a year—yet now, he could not even fathom it.
The depth of the techniques and the inner strength, could he withstand it by the time he turned nineteen?
Silently, he etched the twilight-hued sword strike into his memory. The principle of obedience to heaven, the doctrine of Taoist sects.
"No resistance at all."
Standing beside him, Yulha Nangnang flicked her sword once. The sect leader's robe struck the air with a resounding swish.
She had unleashed a mighty sword strike that could leave even seasoned masters spellbound, yet there was not even a hint of recoil. The epithet Starlight Sword Deity suited her well.
'It's coming.'
Jung Yeonshin heard the footsteps.
A heavy resonance steadily approached. With the presence of mountain beasts long vanished, even the crunch of dry leaves and twigs underfoot seemed unnaturally loud.
The slow, deliberate ascent of the footsteps was eerie. Like the presence of a storm condensed into a single being.
And then—
A massive shadow emerged.
The moment a head came into view, the entire figure had ascended the hill.
Step, step.
A stride as long as the massive frame, moving with its back to the sunlight beyond the ridge.
It was unmistakably human in form, yet its aura felt like an impending landslide of nature itself. The pressure exuding from its very skin threatened to push even his body back.
The weighty undulations of energy remained surreal.
Beyond the realm of martial arts, the seamless flow of breath exuded an unfathomable state of No Thought, No Self. A silent, resolute nature, as if treading a predetermined path. Thus, it stood as the center of the world.
A massive greatsword hung loosely at its side.
Had it blocked Yulha Nangnang's strike head-on? White steam rose from the blade, likely the aftershock of their sword clash.
Jung Yeonshin sharpened the focus of his gaze.
'Leader of the Tyrant Sword Tribe.'
This was different from when he had seen him at the Jung Clan Manor, or when they crossed paths beneath Mount Zhongnan.
Back then, he had not truly seen. He had not even clearly recognized his features. That was how vast the difference in aura had been.
For a newcomer to Desolate Fortress, the gap between the white-robed novices and the absolute peak of the martial world was as distant as commoners from immortals. Even more so when he had been merely a troublesome orphan at the Jung Clan Manor.
But now, it was different. His entire being was filled with Transcending Law Radiant Wheel Energy.
One who breathes through sacred arts has the right to observe the grand sect leaders of the world.
"Starlight."
A deep voice echoed, like a sound resonating within a cavern. The lips that called Mount Hua Sect's leader seemed steeped in reticence.
He was said to be a prince of the fallen Dali Kingdom, of mixed noble blood. Even beneath the yellow robe draping over his form, his physique was extraordinary.
A body sculpted through countless battles, his muscles forged like iron armor, a chin sharpened without an ounce of excess flesh, proof of a perfected state.
His nose, raised like a blade, and his pale, uncolored eyes, all carried an austere handsomeness.
'So he has carved his body like that.'
It was the face of his enemy. Jung Yeonshin did not blink.
There stood the fiend who had razed his mother's homeland, who had slaughtered her beloved and the devoted servants of the Jung Clan. Now that he truly saw, the gap between them was overwhelming.
"I heard you've been running wild like a frenzied fish, yet your sword has grown even deeper. A presence I'd rather not cross blades with."
Yulha Nangnang spoke in a feigned casual tone, stepping forward.
Ssshhh.
In an instant, the ground seemed to draw closer. Her Invisible Wind Stride covered ten paces before halting.
No response came. The Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader simply gazed at her with somewhat solitary eyes.
Mount Hua Sect's leader and the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader stood face to face.
Such a meeting was a rarity.
If word spread, Murim would tremble. The moment either of them looked away, it would not be surprising if one of their heads flew off.
Single-strike duels among top martial artists often decided life and death in an instant.
Jung Yeonshin slowly spoke.
"Leader of the Tyrant Sword Tribe."
"…Brat."
A response came. The Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader answered without even glancing at the Radiant Demon Squad's leader.
Jung Yeonshin was unbothered.
"There was someone at the Jung Clan Manor who raised me. I called him Mister So. I'd say he was quite like your Ghost Spirit Sword."
"..."
"I heard she was just a caretaker. I hoped she was more than just your right arm. She should have at least been your heart."
His tone was level, without rise or fall.
The feelings he had long compartmentalized since the Jung Clan's annihilation slowly crept back up, but they were burdensome for a boy who once envied the swings of a festival rope.
Wooong.
The upper dantian at his brow pulsed again. A sharp, blue sensation rose like a wall, clearing unnecessary thoughts.
He did this willingly. He momentarily locked away the emotions that his comrades in Desolate Fortress had helped him unravel.
"You've grown well, Lightning Genius of Desolate Fortress."
The Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader spoke.
Expressionless, without even looking at Jung Yeonshin.
"What?"
"A vessel that would be meaningless if shattered, but if it is a duel, I shall accept whenever. Come avenge your kin."
Jung Yeonshin's gaze darkened.
"What nonsense are you spewing?"
"You grow without needing water, more superior than even the World Tree. If you fail to meet expectations, I had planned to console your caretaker's spirit."
The Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader spoke slowly.
"But I see now—it will not be necessary."
A brief silence fell.
Jung Yeonshin could distinctly sense the faint touch of snowflakes drifting down from the sky.
—It's obvious that your enemy's power will only grow, yet they chose to spare you. Was it because they were moved by a child's nature? That's absurd.
The words of Baek Seo-gun, the Eternal Heaven Sword Demon, resurfaced in Jung Yeonshin's mind.
—Your entry into Desolate Fortress wouldn't have been entirely beneficial for its Lord. If the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader were to be likened to an animal, he would be a cunning bear.
Then, it happened.
"Does Mount Hua Sect have no rules? Attacking outright, no matter how much you fear our sect leader, that's too much."
It was the same voice that had previously ordered people to welcome the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader. His tone was clear and powerful, showing no hesitation in rebuking the Starlight Sword Deity Yulha Nangnang.
Step.
Suddenly, a young man descended a step behind the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader.
A large travel sack was casually slung over his shoulder, as if he were merely attending to the tribe leader's needs.
His eyes were sharp like a drawn blade, and his well-trained physique was akin to the warriors of Tyrant Sword Tribe.
The energy radiating from his body was incredibly refined for his age. At his waist, a resplendent sword gleamed within its scabbard.
"I almost died."
The young man muttered to himself before turning his gaze directly toward Jung Yeonshin.
"So, you're Lightning Genius. I didn't see you back in Zhongnan, since I was in seclusion. I should've taken your head back then, but now you're Desolate Fortress' black rank… The more I hear about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. Mu-hyeok and the Blood Fiend Demon Sword must be laughing in the afterlife."
"Who are they supposed to be?"
"…It's fortunate they ended up in the hands of a supreme master like you. I had no idea until Yeoryeong Sect's young lord sent word. Who would have thought the Radiant Demon Squad's leader was the leader of Radiant Arts?"
A glint of Sight Arts flashed through the eyes that scanned Jung Yeonshin. Soon after, a slight smirk appeared on his lips.
"Your body isn't in perfect condition, is it? Your energy waves are a spectacle. You seem to be on the verge of Energy Deviation. Well, considering you killed the elder, the Ghost Spirit Sword and Shaanxi's Number One Demon… it's not your body but your achievements that are abnormal. Are you the reincarnation of the founder of Ming Cult or Zhang Sanfeng himself? That's how you appear to me. Someone who must be killed."
"You talk too much."
Jung Yeonshin replied indifferently.
He did not take his eyes off the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader, who stood facing Yulha Nangnang.
Kuuuuung! Kuguuuung—
A formless thunderstorm flickered between the two supreme masters. The battle had already begun. It was the clash of wills between those who had long surpassed the stage of Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown.
No strike had been exchanged, yet the energy waves, cracking the ground like a whip, lashed at the skin.
"Gi Do-hyu, the sect leader's disciple."
Jung Yeonshin turned his head at the unexpected introduction. If he was the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader's disciple, he was worth at least a glance.
The man smirked.
"What do you hope to gain by looking at my master with that body? It's mere bravado. I heard you were rather prudent, but seeing your enemy has clouded your judgment."
Zzzzeooooong—!
Suddenly, thunder roared. The swords of two absolute beings, capable of commanding the violet hue, had clashed. A deafening explosion rang in his ears as a hazy dragon tornado surged.
Withered leaves and branches, swept up like petals in the Full Sky Flower Rain, shot up from all directions.
The pinnacle of the Tyrant Sword and the Plum Blossom Sword had met.
Kwaaaaaa—!
A massive vortex enveloped the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader and Yulha Nangnang. The domain of supreme masters had unfolded.
Jung Yeonshin, his upper body still streaked with fresh blood, had no place within it. The reverberations of Ultimate Thunder had settled in his meridians, leaving his entire circulatory system tingling.
"Isn't it hard to even move a single muscle? You probably can't circulate your energy as you wish."
Gi Do-hyu smirked as he took a step forward.
Jung Yeonshin did not argue. It was true.
Step.
As he approached, Gi Do-hyu's line of sight gradually rose. The dry leaves beneath his feet did not bow but held him up. It was no ordinary footwork, it was an exceptionally refined Grass Flutter.
"The Lightning Genius of the Radiant Demon Squad… I heard you rarely experience hardship. Aren't you the young noble of Desolate Fortress?"
He spoke.
"Have you finally realized how refined the coordination of the Thirteen Celestial Demons is? Even those who are fundamentally incapable of uniting can move together. Does it terrify you that they might join forces under the banner of Desolate Fortress' annihilation? Even today's event is no trivial matter. Not to mention the Blood Flame Cult at the mountain's base… The Wave King, the leader of the Suwang Sect, and even a supreme master who was once Yeoryeong Sect's young lord's protector have all arrived."
"They died in about three exchanges."
"..."
Gi Do-hyu fell silent.
Then, he casually tossed his bag aside.
Thud!
A heavy vibration resonated beneath his feet. With Grass Flutter activated, his height seemed to rise even further.
"It won't be easy to find another day when the Lightning Genius is this weakened."
One step, two steps—the distance between them steadily shrank. Gi Do-hyu did not stop speaking.
"My master was right. You're just a vessel that can be discarded if broken. I will test it. Let's see if your Radiant River can rival the Five Great Palms of the world. After all, the true value of a supreme technique only emerges in crisis."
Jung Yeonshin did not respond.
He simply stood still, staring at his opponent before abruptly parting his lips.
"You're blocking my sight."
"You must have heard of it. Supreme Monarch Palm of our sect. I haven't mastered it yet, though."
The young masters exchanged words without breaking their pace. Was it due to their strong pride? Neither avoided the other, even as their distance narrowed to a single step.
Kuguuuung—
Jung Yeonshin's eyebrows twitched. Gi Do-hyu's palm approached, carrying a profound resonance.
Rather than engaging in a skillful exchange against the youngest squad leader of Desolate Fortress, he had chosen to fully exploit his near-Energy Deviation state.
—You can dodge if you wish.
Gi Do-hyu smirked with his eyes.
At the same moment, his palm struck toward Jung Yeonshin's solar plexus. The instant his bloodstained robes were pressed, a faint ripple spread outward in concentric circles.
It was a secret technique of the Art of Weighted Suppression. The pressure in his grip was immense.
Hooook.
It landed perfectly. At this level, there was no recovery. He might even die instantly.
"Ha…!"
A gleam of exhilaration flickered in Gi Do-hyu's eyes. The Lightning Genius of Desolate Fortress, by my hands.
His master had given permission to kill him.
The current leader of the Radiant Demon Squad was an enemy to the Tyrant Sword Tribe as well.
How many masters had he slain? He was less of a warrior and more of a predator who had built his name upon countless corpses.
Gi Do-hyu clenched his arm and lifted his head slightly. He needed to see Jung Yeonshin's face.
What expression was this so-called supreme genius making now?
At that moment—
Jung Yeonshin's figure vanished.
As if he had never been there in the first place.
Too late, he spotted a pair of leather shoes. The weight pressing on his arm's extension—its true cause.
Raising his gaze, he found himself looking up at a flowing black robe. He had no choice but to lift his eyes even further until a smooth jawline came into view.
Jung Yeonshin stood atop Gi Do-hyu's outstretched hand, his stance composed, hands folded behind his back.
In his blue-lit eyes, the figures of the Tyrant Sword Tribe's leader and Yulha Nangnang were reflected.
Gi Do-hyu's lips trembled. His head and Jung Yeonshin's leg were far too close.
"What just… happened?"
"Illusory Sword, First Stroke."
Jung Yeonshin spoke without looking down.
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