Chapter 469: Chapter 469

The reattachment of his left arm.

Jeong Yeon-shin and the Physician worked through the night.

Restoring the Three Yang Meridians of the Hand—which connected the arm to the shoulder and the rest of the body—meant meticulously rejoining every blood vessel, nerve, and muscle fiber.

It was both a brief and an agonizingly long process.

As the procedure progressed, the Physician’s complexion visibly worsened.

By the time the sorcery-infused medical technique neared completion, his face had gone deathly pale, as though he might vomit blood at any moment.

"Elder, are you alright?"

He had mentioned earlier that he could feel the slaughter committed by swordsmen. It had not been an exaggeration.

Sharp-tongued, intolerant, yet brutally honest—he was precisely as the rumors described.

"Leave... I will be bedridden for at least three days."

"I will repay this debt."

"You dare speak of repayment after invoking the world itself? The only reason I even entertained this was because you are the next leader of the Divine Sword Battalion. Your time is no longer your own."

Then to whom did it belong?

There was no need to wonder.

The people. The common folk.

A sentiment reminiscent of the Ancient Sword Sage.

Having exhausted himself entirely, the Physician declared he would be shutting his doors for a while.

Even so, the crisp, refreshing aura that surrounded him never faded.

Unlike other Celestial Clans, his presence carried an unfathomable air of mystery.

"Not a man... but a living branch of the divine."

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

There was no need to pry into the Elder’s origins or lineage.

Gratitude was enough.

"Bloodlines are truly remarkable."

An old beggar approached him as he basked in the morning sun within the Physician’s courtyard.

The faint scraping of straw sandals sounded against the ground.

Despite his ragged appearance, the weight of time exuded an undeniable dignity.

He was the leader of the Dragon-Head Beggars (Yongdubang).

The Beggar Sect was likened to a dragon’s head—its numbers stretching across the land, its history of culling masterless hounds as long as time itself.

Naturally, the leader of the Dragon-Head Beggars was always an unparalleled martial master.

Jeong Yeon-shin recalled Shin Hwang’s warning:

"The current leader of the Dragon-Head Beggars bears two great titles. Among them, The Radiant Divine Beggar is his most well-known. He is called so because his movement art is said to rival the speed of sunlight. He has mastered an exceedingly advanced pursuit technique—do not allow his hand to so much as graze you. The headquarters of the Divine Sword Battalion believes he has acquired the Ten-Thousand League Pursuit Incense."

Shin Hwang was a man of few words, but he pursued perfection in all matters.

Even as he left the Physician’s estate to fulfill a request from Jeong Yeon-shin, he had taken the time to give this warning.

"Despite his scholarly demeanor, he is known to uncover and memorize every detail of those who offend him—even down to their sleeping habits. Many have suffered disgrace at his hands."

Jeong Yeon-shin thought back to the beds he had ruined in the past.

"Jeong Yeon-shin of the Jeong Clan."

He respectfully clasped his hands together in a formal greeting.

The Beggar Chief had been a peer of the previous Divine Sword Battalion leader.

To Jeong Yeon-shin, he was a towering elder—offering anything less than the utmost courtesy would be unthinkable.

Besides, if he wished to take part in the upcoming battle between the great martial sects, the Beggar Chief’s assistance was essential.

The traces of the supreme masters of the righteous sects had long since vanished.

Hangzhou was vast, and the underground caverns and waterways beneath it were unfathomably complex.

It was highly likely that Tai Mo Mountain Fortress’s Lord had sealed off the area with formations.

Meanwhile, the Beggar Chief had yet to receive treatment for his stomach wound.

With the Physician bedridden, recovery was all but impossible.

Jeong Yeon-shin had not foreseen this either.

The old beggar, who had been observing him intently, shifted his foot slightly.

His expression hardened, as if he had seen something he shouldn't have.

"You are the acting leader of the Divine Sword Battalion, are you not? Your formality is excessive for a first meeting."

"How could I treat a great elder lightly? I have long heard of your renown."

Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his hands.

The old beggar’s lips twitched faintly.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"Your name, too, has shaken the world. I have wanted to see you with my own eyes for some time."

The Radiant Divine Beggar.

Titles in the martial world were often exaggerated.

But if a true master bore a moniker, it meant there was reason behind it.

Beyond Shin Hwang’s warning, Jeong Yeon-shin recalled an old tale that the Ancient Sword Sage had once shared in idle conversation.

A story about an unparalleled master who despised rogue warriors.

"The Great Wild Divine Beggar is what they call him when he is drunk. He’s a master of Drunken Fist, you see. Once intoxicated, he fears neither heaven nor earth. They say he takes the sky as his blanket, the ground as his bed. His juniors claim it means he is well-versed in martial history. Your grandfather, in particular, was fond of that nickname—he said the old man was like a small, yet great, bear."

Jeong Yeon-shin pushed the thought aside before he could conjure an image of a bear.

The Beggar Chief spoke.

"A striking word. If one were to seek the position of Divine Sword Battalion’s leader, they should have such conviction. The Physician’s reaction tells me that your words were not exaggerated, but sincere."

His voice carried a profound depth.

Despite his small frame, his presence weighed heavily on the air.

Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze slightly to the side.

A faint sense of embarrassment—paired with an unexpected fondness for the old man.

Typically, senior masters would speak of his grandfather the moment they laid eyes on him.

But the Beggar Chief had shown no interest in such matters.

Had the previous leaders of the great sects given him no information about Jeong Yeon-shin?

Or had he simply chosen to ignore it?

"However, there is one thing that troubles me..."

The Beggar Chief lowered his voice.

There was something dry in his tone, something akin to the chill of a winter wind.

Jeong Yeon-shin responded.

*"Those who hear your words and witness your actions often think of the phrase self-righteous and arrogant.

There is no man invincible before a combined assault.

A master of tyranny—isolated, without comrades—no matter how strong, will always..."*

"Deputy Commander! Where are you? Deputy Commander!"

A young man’s shout abruptly cut off the Beggar Chief’s words.

A girl’s voice rang out just as loudly. "Over there!"

Xuan Yuan-chang, the Valiant Hero of Liphuang, and Shin So-bin, the Crimson Silk Successor.

Two prodigies who had made a name for themselves during the great gathering at Mount Hua.

Shin So-bin, in particular, had emerged with great renown after a fierce battle against the Young Swordsman of Mount Tianzhang.

The Successor title in her epithet marked her as the heir to a martial lineage defined by its razor-sharp techniques.

"Can you really stand already?"

"Well, as long as it’s properly reattached, with your Jeong Family’s martial arts..."

"Commander, are you alright...?"

They gathered around Jeong Yeon-shin.

And they were not alone.

After them, Lurking Dragon Yu Hyeon and Tang Lord Tang Un-hwang swiftly stepped across several rooftops, approaching at speed.

After offering a brief nod to the Beggar Chief, they turned their attention to Jeong Yeon-shin.

"Hey, now that we’re here, I have to ask—how the hell did you end up fighting like that? You could’ve run, you know. The common folk are important, but so are you. Do you even know if that arm is properly attached?"

"The Three Yang Meridians of the Hand are still unstable. You shouldn’t be leaving so soon..."

Tang Un-hwang’s words trailed off.

He had already guessed what was happening in Hangzhou.

He had once ruled supreme in Sichuan.

Rather than standing alongside the young rising stars surrounding Jeong Yeon-shin, he found himself instinctively drawn closer to the Beggar Chief, who had taken a step back with a peculiar expression.

Jeong Yeon-shin offered a faint smile.

"I should have thanked you sooner. You came a long way."

"My family wanted to come as well."

Tang Un-hwang dismissed the gratitude as if it were unnecessary.

It seemed he was reluctant to see Jeong Yeon-shin stepping onto a battlefield filled with supreme masters.

The Beggar Chief also spoke in a low voice, urging restraint.

*"Do not push yourself. If the Flood Dragon emerges, all efforts will be in vain regardless. However, the power needed to stop the Tiger Dragon Ritual is already gathered.

The sect masters of the Nine Schools have come together—now all that remains is to leave things to fate."*

"I have business with the Lord of Tai Mo Mountain Fortress and the Leader of the Bright Moon Sect."

Jeong Yeon-shin lifted his arm slightly and rolled his shoulder in a full rotation.

A translucent shockwave burst forth.

His Jeong Family Martial Arts had perfectly realigned the flow of his internal energy, locking his power in place like an intricate machine.

In an instant, he was at full strength.

"More hands can only be a good thing."

A brief silence followed.

Yu Hyeon muttered under his breath.

"What the hell is that?"

Only after he broke the silence did Jeong Yeon-shin speak again.

*"Let’s move. The rest of you, proceed as discussed and seal off Hangzhou.

I have left my message with Valiant Hero Xuan Yuan-chang. The authorities will move accordingly."*

His words carried a difference from before.

They were more fluid.

Then, locking eyes with the Beggar Chief, he added—

*"I need your help, Senior.

I do not know which direction the sect masters of the Nine Schools have taken."*

"Unlike you, I was not chosen by the Physician."

The Beggar Chief, hands clasped behind his back, responded.

There was an air of reluctance.

To Jeong Yeon-shin, he seemed like a man who had understood the essence of detachment.

A deeply respected elder.

One who had, thankfully, not mentioned his grandfather or his sleeping habits.

"If you lend me your eyes, Senior, I will act as your hands and feet."

The Beggar Chief did not respond immediately.

Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze toward a distant rooftop and moved his lips.

At that moment, the tiled roof wavered—

A thick, blood-colored mist began to rise.

It was the Headquarters of the Iphwang Province.

Internally, they had a favorable view of the newly appointed Purple. Ever since the young man, clad in a blue robe embroidered with the golden character Hwang (荒), had bowed and called the scribes of the main branch the pillars of Iphwang, they had regarded him with respect.

Time and again, the headquarters had quietly aided Jeong Yeon-shin, separate from the orders of the Grand Governor. Whenever high-ranking officials were beheaded for their involvement with the Iphwang Sword, Northern Bright Sword, and Yeorae, they were the ones who shifted the blame onto the eunuchs.

“The affairs of the Bureau belong strictly to the Eastern Depot! You should have monitored things before they reached this point! If «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» this mission of the headquarters fails, who will take responsibility? Will you be the ones to explain to His Majesty why the tributes have stopped arriving?”

“What are you talking about? You’re saying the Provincial Inspector of Zhejiang hadn’t received prior notice? Are you in your right mind, bringing this letter here? Are you suggesting that a border official must track the movements of the Purple of the Headquarters in advance?”

“I said he’s alive! I’ve told you multiple times—he survived!”

The scent of ink was thick in the air, but it was far from fragrant. The pungent stench came from the excrement of the spirit birds raised by the noble clans.

The vast hall was lined with gray stone desks, each occupied by dozens of scribes writing with their brushes while talking incessantly.

It was so hectic that they hadn’t even set up a proper reception hall. They entertained guests like street vendors haggling in a marketplace, barely making eye contact with the officials seated before them.

“Sir, do you think this conduct is appropriate?”

“I heard they sell something in Beijing. All I know is how to read the names of the martial artists registered in our headquarters—I never took the imperial examination myself, you see...”

The scribes of the Headquarters frequently dealt with high-ranking officials.

They connected the armed units under the Sword Corps, monitored various underground networks and branches to track their movements, assessed the state of the people and the administration, and acted as the first filter for all kinds of intelligence.

Amidst this, they coordinated with the countless government offices across the empire.

Not only the imperial palace in Beijing but also the provincial administrations.

Through it all, the scribes of the Headquarters maintained an unyielding stance. They had nothing to lose.

They were men who had forsaken the path of the imperial examination and instead stepped into the Iphwang Province. At this moment, it was not an exaggeration to call it the center of the turbulence shaking the martial world due to the showdown between Jeong Yeon-shin and the Lord of Heavenly Extreme Sect.

“The news spread so fast. That incident just happened, and they’re already here?”

“Well, it was an urgent matter, wasn’t it? Even the Headquarters deployed Flash Arrow Birds—those birds are usually only released when the northern front erupts or when War Gods march south.”

“Can we finally relax a little? The whole martial world is in chaos right now. Even the places that haven’t heard yet will soon be in turmoil. The First Sword of the Heretical Path...”

“Relax? What for? They’re still debating in Beijing whether to scrape together what little Imperial Army remains and send them to Hangzhou... And His Majesty has long since left for the north.”

The word upheaval was an understatement.

At the top floor of the Headquarters' main building, three figures sat in a circle—the Grand Governor, the Elder Council Chief, and the Prince of Gungmyeong.

The sleeve of a young man draped in a deep blue robe embroidered with a four-clawed dragon fluttered slightly.

A piece of paper crumpled in his grasp.

Only one person in the entire Headquarters dared to treat an official document in such a manner—Prince Gungmyeong.

“He’s vanished again?”

His long ears trembled slightly.

It was a report regarding Jeong Yeon-shin—detailing how he had disappeared again immediately after receiving treatment and recognition from the Divine Physician. The martial artists of the Hangzhou branch had ultimately failed to follow the acting leader of the Sword Corps.

“...I cannot lose him again.”

The thickly bearded Grand Governor Lim Jin-myeong spoke with a heavy tone.

“Your Highness, if I may speak freely—when the news of Jeong’s supposed demise spread incorrectly, it sent massive shockwaves through the government offices. Not only did the Heretical Martial Sects stir, but even the Eight Great Aristocratic Clans showed significant movement. Had it gone unchecked...”

“The Chief Commanders of the Sword Corps—Seonmok Commander, Changcheon General, Yullyeong General, and Mugeuk Commander—are all on standby.”

“What about Yong Hui-myeong?”

“He, along with the Dark Swords of the Headquarters, is beyond our reach.”

With that, Prince Gungmyeong fell into a brief silence.

A heavy sigh flowed over the round stone table of the Governor’s office.

“The world is trembling. Fine, I underestimated the new Purple... The One Who Annihilates the Wasteland. But now...”

A clear bell rang suddenly.

The sound was as delicate as rolling jade beads on the breeze. It came from the snow-white eaves of the inner sanctum visible through the window.

At once, the Grand Governor and even Prince Gungmyeong fell silent.

The elder sitting with them, Elder Council Chief Shin Byeok, who had remained silent all this time, shifted slightly, his long white beard swaying.

Then, with an aged yet steady voice, he spoke:

“The Lord of the Holy Sanctuary has arrived.”