The mountain path was silent.
Only the dry leaves rustled as they rolled over the even drier earth.
A sudden breeze brushed against Jung Yeonshin’s skin, carrying the heat of a drought-ridden summer, devoid of any moisture. Only the glaring sunlight was overly loud.
“……”
Jung Yeonshin gazed past the young man standing before him, looking beyond his shoulder.
The more he stared at a single point, the blurrier his vision became. In the center of it all, a withered old tree weakly swayed its barren branches, and high above, the scorching sun hung in the sky without a single cloud to soften its glare.
Suddenly, the tangled thoughts in his mind dissipated. Was the Order’s leader safe? If the Pact of Mount Hua was upheld, who among the blue and white would be sent forward…?
A sense of unnatural stillness permeated the air.
A formation, vast enough that its size could not be guessed, concealed all traces of those beyond it.
It was not as sophisticated as the arts of the Dark Night War or the Blood Flame Cult. At most, it was enough to deceive wandering vagabonds or those searching for He Shou Wu.
But it was sufficient to elude the eyes of the world.
This place was a remote, isolated valley deep within the mountains.
The formation’s scale alone made it a remarkable technique, and the land itself was untouched, an expanse where even the hidden members of any sect would struggle to locate their own.
“…Taemo Mountain Fortress.”
At Jung Yeonshin’s murmur, the young man reacted immediately.
“You’re from there? I had a feeling you weren’t just any ordinary traveler… Ah, I mean that in a good way. I eat my meals under Yeoryung’s roof. I may not be a formal disciple, but…”
Despite his seemingly amiable words, his expression was uneasy. Taemo Mountain Fortress was unlike any of the other Thirteen Celestial Demons.
Even among the demonic faction, opinions on them were sharply divided.
The grand sect that had split off from the Mosan Sect’s spell martial arts always carried eerie rumors.
Some claimed they offered the blood of commoners at temple altars to craft flesh, while others whispered that they used dark sorcery to drain the life force of sacred mountains for strange, unfathomable rituals.
Step.
The unkempt-haired young man took a half-step back.
“In any case, there was no need for you to come out personally. As you know, this is the Eighth Village. It's quite a distance from the Seventeenth Village, where all the commotion is happening, but… There’s been an odd rumor going around in the nearby villages that Taoists from the Nine Great Sects have appeared. Be cautious, Executioner. Whether they wield the Plum Blossom Sword or the Taiji Sword, they never speak of the way before us, do they?”
His tongue was long-winded. A warrior of the demonic faction, indeed.
Jung Yeonshin silently studied the young man’s face. If he had truly arrived at the correct destination, then the man before him was a fiend that deserved death. It meant he had a hand in aiding the Divine Sword Order's leader’s assassination.
He slowly opened his mouth.
“How vast is the inside?”
“Hmm? The formation was created by the sorcerers from that side…? You don’t seem like an ordinary practitioner, though.”
Suspicion flickered across the young man’s face.
A brief silence followed. His pitch-black, glossy eyes alternated between glancing at Young Lord and Jung Yeonshin.
Then, upon noticing Young Lord’s faded noble robes, his expression changed to one of realization.
He failed to notice the faint, involuntary twitch of Jung Yeonshin’s sword hilt at his waist.
“Judging by your attire, you must be someone of status. That bow, your skin, the hardened calluses… You’re from the Dark Night War. Is Taemo Mountain Fortress your guide?”
“…An unnecessary question. How long do you intend to keep us standing here?”
Young Lord pressed in an antiquated tone.
He was a man who valued the commoners of his clan dearly.
Ever since the leader of the Radiant Current Squad secured the Dark Night War’s disciples in Guizhou, his cooperation with Jung Yeonshin had been unwavering.
“Well, my apologies. This way.”
The unkempt-haired young man turned around with a grumble.
From the beginning, there was not a single person among the faded noble lineage who bore goodwill toward the Desolate Fortress.
Their very skin symbolized the lineage of traitors who had once hindered the founding of the nation. They deserved more trust than the vagrants inside the formation.
“I expect you’ll keep up well enough. Watch your footing carefully.”
Step.
The sound of his footsteps quickly faded. He had activated his movement arts, heading toward the formation’s living gate.
A faint surge of energy pulsed from the Yongcheon acupoint on his sole as he advanced, yet not a single footprint was left behind on the dirt ground.
It was an unfamiliar place. Understanding the geography and situation properly came first.
Jung Yeonshin followed after him and parted his lips.
“I asked how vast the inside is.”
“Does it matter? If you’re wise, you’d stay here, in the Eighth Village. Stirring up trouble in other villages won’t end well for you.”
“……”
“The vagrants here were all personally invited by Yeoryung Sect. They were carefully selected and hired, each of them with a knack for wielding a blade.
On top of that, they’re desperate for salt and meat, no matter how much they gorge themselves. Unless you’re distributing rations like an executioner’s mentor, you won’t even scare them…”
“I do not repeat myself three times.”
“…It’s absurdly large. It follows, or rather predicts, ‘his’ movements. It’s a Heaven-Spanning Net, far beyond ordinary scale. Even after this affair is over, it’ll likely serve as a settlement. It’s more abundant than most cities.”
“‘His’?”
“The one who wields the Transcendent Sword. The monster who carries the surname Yong.”
The young man answered offhandedly, then added, as if to be heard clearly.
“If you act this rudely in the village, you’ll meet an unpleasant end.”
“……”
Jung Yeonshin remained silent.
This, too, was the purple Jianghu. They had built over a dozen forward bases to hunt down a single Divine Sword Order's leader.
It was a massive Sequential Battle Formation.
Meanwhile, Young Lord, who had been following Jung Yeonshin, glanced at him.
They had arrived at their exact destination. The Dreadfeather Raven had not led them astray.
—Can you deliver a message to your leader? I sold my position to ensure the safety of the common folk. I deserve to be treated with respect…
Jung Yeonshin did not respond. A voice, belonging to Ak Surim, had intertwined with Young Lord’s telepathic message, echoing in his ear.
—You heard them babbling about the Eighth and Seventeenth Villages, right? It seems they had been setting traps along every path the Order’s leader might pass. Formations, sheer numbers, poison, even absolute masters—every possible means is being used to corner him. It’d be best if we split up.
—You’re suggesting we form separate groups?
Jung Yeonshin replied through telepathy.
—Yep! There are twelve of us, so how about four, four, three, and one? I’ll take Shin and So-so with me to handle the village on your left. The rest can figure it out on their own.
—And the lone one…?
—I’m talking about you. Even when Yong led the Divine Sword Squad, he always operated as a single unit.
—…If we all split up, how do you plan to enter the formation? My assistance…
—Huh?
Suddenly, the girl’s laughter tickled his ear, her voice carrying an almost proud amusement.
—Well, even you, not to mention Order’s leader Yong, might find it strange. Yong has never led more than ten under the black rank, after all.
—Pardon?
―That level of formation can be broken with just a touch from Myungjo’s foot. For So-so or Shin Huang, it’s a mere single punch. And besides, So-so even has a sapling of the World Tree. Among the sacred artifacts used in formations, it’s the greatest in the world, whether as a wall or a gate.
Ak Surim spoke, her voice tinged with laughter.
Jung Yeonshin didn’t listen to the rest of her words.
He briefly recalled the refined leg techniques of Supreme Demon of Sacred Blood, Jin Myungjo, and nodded in understanding. Anything was possible.
―You’ve endured much. This is your final mission before we ascend to Beijing.
A whisper scattered in the crisp early summer breeze. At last, the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad was about to enter the city, executing the Heaven-Spanning Net that deceived the world.
Leaving behind the command of the vice-leader of the Divine Sword Order, Jung Yeonshin stepped forward, his footprints marking the dirt path. Step—his footfall echoed, and behind him, the deserted trail faded into a blur.
* * *
The moment he stepped into the formation hidden in the remote mountain village, a cacophony of noise struck his ears.
Shouts laced with intoxication, the scraping of whetstones, sharpening blades, thunderous snoring, and the lively voice of a tavern boy soliciting customers.
What lay before him was a proper village.
An inn haphazardly built from logs, a tavern billowing smoke despite lacking the scent of food, and martial artists sprawled across the ground, rooftops, and anywhere they pleased.
Most of them were armed with swords, sickles, and various weapons.
“……”
It was certainly because money was involved. Even if it was a matter of food supplies, it made sense. A wagonload of grain followed power in Jianghu.
When someone offered a feast, contracts or master-servant relationships were often forged on the spot.
On one side, vagrants sat loosely around a bonfire, discussing the current affairs of Jianghu. They paid no attention to Jung Yeonshin’s group.
“Are you sure there’s no support from Desolate Fortress?”
“They said Sichuan is in chaos. It would take a long time to get here. You’d have to change horses several times.”
“What do you know about supreme masters?”
“Aren’t they still human?”
It was then.
Bang!
A man landed in front of them, flaunting his rugged movement technique.
He wore deep blue silk robes and carried a lavishly embroidered sword, yet his rough demeanor made him seem no different from a vagrant.
“Why are you only back now?! I thought something had happened!”
“You’re making a fuss over nothing. As you can see, we have guests.”
The unkempt-haired young man turned, revealing Jung Yeonshin and Young Lord.
The vagrant flinched at the sight of Jung Yeonshin, but upon seeing Young Lord, he nodded, muttering under his breath. Dark Night War.
“It’s a relief you didn’t bring back just some nobodies. The Sixth Village is in turmoil.”
“What? The Sixth Village? But that man is…!”
“It’s not the Human Dragon of Desolate Fortress. It’s the Nine Great Sects. Mount Hua and Wudang. In the end, they sniffed us out and came crawling in.”
The vagrant spoke as if chewing his words. The unkempt-haired young man ran a hand through his disheveled hair, scratching his head.
“Damn it… It’s only a matter of time before Jianghu finds out. The Sect Leaders themselves wouldn’t have come, right?”
“There’s no way the Starlight Sword Deity or Wudang’s Sect’s leader’s proxy would act as covert agents. The ones who crossed over from the Sixth Village are the Plum Blossom Swordsmen. Just like the rumors say, they look down on us with ridiculous arrogance.”
“That’s hardly good news… Did you clash with them?”
“We’re in a standoff. It’s nerve-wracking.”
“How many?”
“Five. One of them is very young.”
“The leader of Yeoryung will handle it somehow. We’re just mayflies. We do our jobs and buy time.”
Jung Yeonshin’s brow twitched at the young man’s words.
Step.
He walked forward, silently passing between the vagrant and the young man. The unkempt-haired youth reacted immediately.
“Hey? Don’t approach recklessly. I have a plan. With some luck, we can deal with five Plum Blossom Swordsmen…”
“How many of these villages exist?”
“I don’t know. As you can see, they’re all hidden like this. The last one I know of is the Seventeenth Village.”
At that moment.
The vagrant who had been eyeing Jung Yeonshin with distaste suddenly spoke up.
“Some big shot called this a ‘trap’ for him, but it’s good for us. In times like these, these remote valleys have more food than half the towns out there.”
“A trap?”
“My lips are dry, hard to speak… You seem well-stocked. Got any liquor?”
The sound of him licking his lips cut through the air. A strong presence. A rough surge of predator-like internal energy brushed against Jung Yeonshin’s robe. Since he was in disguise, he wore hemp clothes instead of black robes.
Speaking of the Nine Great Sects’ threat and then asking for liquor—most vagrants were like that. Roaming famine-stricken lands, seizing a day’s loot to buy a day’s pleasure.
To Jung Yeonshin, they were nothing compared to the poppy addict of the Radiant Demon Squad. Unlike the Lazy Flame Dragon, these were demonic faction drifters who willingly wrapped themselves in the fate of mayflies.
“I wonder what the leader of Yeoryung intends.”
Jung Yeonshin murmured to himself. There was no way they expected a group of ragtag warriors to take down the Divine Sword Order's leader. The real forces must have been stationed elsewhere.
Regardless of his thoughts, the surrounding reaction was swift.
“What?”
The vagrant’s eyes widened. The eyes of those who had ignored the newcomers now focused like drawn blades.
Silence fell, like an unseen meteor crashing down. The chilling sound of whetstones grinding swords echoed through the air.
“Hey.”
The vagrant took a step closer.
“Which sect are you from? No one joining this Heaven-Spanning Net would speak so freely of the Thirteen Celestial Demons…”
Dozens of men slowly rose from their seats. Dense waves of energy stirred, mixing into the wind.
Unlike the young man who had guided him, these people were far more perceptive. As expected of vagrants who had survived in Jianghu without the backing of a grand sect.
Jung Yeonshin stood still.
His eyelids lowered slightly. A faint smile had already formed on his lips.
“His identity is suspicious. His demeanor is unfamiliar. He may not be an absolute master, but…!”
The blue-robed vagrant assessing him suddenly drew his sword in a flash.
Swish—
The sound of his blade slicing through the air was sharp.
A rapid succession of slashes extended toward Jung Yeonshin, twisting midair with unpredictable movements. A highly practical technique, reaching dangerously close to the realm of ascension.
Then.
The trajectory aimed at Jung Yeonshin’s neck suddenly wavered violently. A third party had intervened. A fist struck the vagrant’s side.
Thud!
A burst of purple energy scattered like fleeting snowflakes. The punch drove deep into the man’s ribs, shoving his flesh against his internal organs. With a crunching sound, the impact shattered his ribcage.
Beside the collapsing vagrant.
“You knew we were coming, didn’t you? Don’t waste your strength here.”
A young Taoist boy dusted off his hands and grumbled. His white Taoist robe, embroidered with plum blossoms, fluttered.
He had appeared out of nowhere and landed a single punch. Despite his casual demeanor, the technique was incredibly refined and elegant.
“What the hell…?!”
“The Hidden Fragrance Drift, Plum Blossom Fist!”
“Mount Hua! He’s from Mount Hua Sect!”
The sound of weapons being drawn filled the surroundings.
The young man who had guided Jung Yeonshin furrowed his brows and stepped back, while a tavern boy emerged from a nearby inn, gripping two cleavers.
The young Taoist yawned widely. His breathing technique, exuding a languid air, carried the composure of a true prodigy.
“Mount Hua Hidden Dragon… The youngest of the Plum Blossom Swordsmen.”
“So the frontlines have already collapsed. I told you not to let your guard down…!”
He scanned the area, then met Jung Yeonshin’s eyes.
“So, I’m the Mount Hua Hidden Dragon. What were you lot up to here? Not a single one of you is answering…”
His words trailed off.
A purple glow flickered in his eyes. The sight arts of the Violet Dawn Sacred Arts. Mount Hua’s martial arts stood alongside Wudang’s as the pinnacle of Taoist cultivation.
For the first time, he recognized the features of an old rival, the essence of Transcending Law Radiant Wheel.
Yoo Hyun’s expression turned blank.
“…Who the hell are you?”
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