Chapter 478: Chapter 478

The place left behind by the four peerless martial artists and the Flood Dragon.

White heat haze coiled like snakes, appearing and disappearing in waves.

The ground was rough and worn. The sound of thunder rolling through the hazy air was heavy and deep.

The land was utterly devastated, with fallen leaves tumbling among the weeds.

Two people stood facing each other.

One was So Cheonmujuk. The air around her was stale, as if thick with dust. She idly pulled down her pure white scarf below her collarbone, wearing an expression of boredom.

Her pristine white robe wrapped her body completely, without a single stain.

Her presence was flawless.

“You’re relentless in keeping me here. I don’t understand.”

A voice, clear in pronunciation but rough in tone. She scratched her throat with internal energy, as if it were second nature. It was different from when she spoke with Jeong Yeon-shin.

“I know what kind of lunatic you are. Among the Bloodflame Cult’s nobles, there’s talk of you being the greatest in history. It makes sense that you would be drawn to Jeong Yeon-shin through martial arts, but...”

A dark mist coiled around So Cheonmujuk’s left arm, pulsing with chaotic energy like blood techniques.

Unlike tyrannical demonic energy, this presence was eerie. Stone fragments snapped and popped, bouncing off the ground in disorder.

Its form was exactly the same as the Bloodflame Cult’s martial arts.

“Your loyalty should be the same toward our cult leader if you want to be consistent.”

Her words were drawn out.

“You’ve reached this level of strength despite having no remarkable talent or paying any price. To your eyes, there should be no difference between Jeong Yeon-shin and me.”

Only a faint laugh seeped into the air. So Cheonmujuk did not take the mockery too seriously.

“I will show you the pinnacle of martial arts. Unlike Jeong Yeon-shin, I have a different paradise. Don’t you want to experience a vastly different nature?”

A voice both indifferent and seductive brushed against the air. The allure of a Mara.

At that moment, the robe of the Seventh Apostle billowed behind her.

Still bright red, still smooth—but torn and punctured in several places, soaked in blood. Even charred black marks, like scars, adorned her figure, evidence of her disadvantage.

The only thing left unscathed was her eerily pale skin. A testament to her overwhelming regenerative ability.

Her lips moved slowly.

“...is already inside me.”

The end of her words curled upward. A madness without direction.

An immense surge of energy erupted from within the Seventh Apostle, perfectly tuned to her presence. A concentric wave of dust exploded outward, trembling from the suppressed force.

As the ground rumbled and quaked, the Seventh Apostle shuddered—as if she were reveling in sheer ecstasy.

Her jet-black hair rippled over the crimson fabric of her robe.

She whispered with a smile.

“Inside my body, outside my body—we breathe together.”

So Cheonmujuk’s expression shifted strangely before one corner of her lips faintly lifted.

“That arrogant brat outdid even me. He’s spread his energy so widely that he’ll never be forgotten. It’s a brilliant method.”

“You talk too much. Don’t try to understand. Yeon-shin doesn’t think about anything.”

“I’m sorry for your delusion... but you have to die.”

So Cheonmujuk’s tone became flat. As if there was no longer any value in speaking.

The black flame coiling around her hand distorted the air, and at the same time, the Seventh Apostle stomped down, releasing a crimson shockwave.

A heavy footstep echoed from the distance.

The surroundings blurred.

A storm of powerful kicks and the colossal movements of the Flood Dragon, slicing through the air with sheer force.

The deafening explosion never ceased, battering the empty sky, while the surrounding scenery became impossible to discern in the dense gusts of wind.

Before they knew it, they had reached Zhejiang.

The grand river flowed beside Hangzhou.

This was the place where Jeong Yeon-shin had once fallen after being struck down by the Celestial Gate Lord and the Dark Heaven Emperor. Though the night was dark, the river gleamed heavily, like a mirror reflecting the void.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Jeong Yeon-shin thrust himself through the air, hurling Yeoroe downward.

The sword, resonating with a deep hum, blazed into a streak of light as it shot through the space, striking beneath Yulha Nangnang’s foot.

It bolstered her aerial footing. At the same time, Yeoroe was sucked back into Jeong Yeon-shin’s grasp as he activated the Absorption Technique of Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Rain.

The sword radiated heat.

It had been moving ceaselessly, brimming with overwhelming energy for too long. It was inevitable that it would become scorching hot.

Sword control techniques were impossible.

There were not two dragons left within his heart. If he unraveled the Dragon Twin Fusion now, he couldn’t predict what would happen.

Navigating around the Flood Dragon, striking with his sword, deflecting lightning, and warding off slicing winds—each movement exacted an immense recoil.

The air grew heavier.

It was the surge of energy released by the Flood Dragon’s thunderous roar. At the same time, deep blue lightning flashed from all directions, the same color as the dragon’s scales.

Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the Imperial Sword Form of the Namgung Family, which he had encountered indirectly in his younger days. The pressure pressing against his skin now was similar.

‘It’s immense, but...’

It didn’t feel as insurmountable as it did that day. It was overwhelming, but not impossible to counter. That was enough for Jeong Yeon-shin.

The problem lay elsewhere.

The Flood Dragon’s tail tore through the air like a hurricane, as if the Great Wall’s fortress walls had been swung with immense internal energy.

Yulha Nangnang, who had been close by, vanished like a mirage, reappearing beside Jeong Yeon-shin. It was the art of Shadow Fragrance Step, a technique of supreme aerial movement.

Jeong Yeon-shin asked quickly.

Yulha Nangnang’s complexion was gradually paling.

Even if she had mastered the extreme Fire Moon Style of Mount Hua and could unleash the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Crimson Emperor Step multiple times, the first and second could never be the same.

The power of Life-Saving Blossoms and the energy draining from her body both followed that rule. In truth, from the second Crimson Emperor Step onward, it wasn’t truly Fire Moon Style—it was closer to an absurdly vast sword barrier.

Had she used it as an offensive technique instead, its power would have been incomparable, but right now, their priority was escaping the city, where civilians resided. Inevitably, she was being drained.

“I will endure with the Abbot. Please, even for a moment, regulate your breathing from a distance...”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s words trailed off.

Yulha Nangnang’s lips curled into a smile.

“You underestimate my energy. Despite appearances, I mastered Purple Dawn Divine Art at a young age, freezing my body’s time. I am just as vigorous as you.”

The youngest sect leader of the Nine Great Sects. And with the divine ability of Purple Dawn, it was true that she was in her prime.

But today’s battle was not against a human.

The Flood Dragon was heavy.

A massive body that filled Zhejiang—it was bound to be slow. Compared to the movement skills of absolute martial artists, it was even more so. But the air around the supreme spiritual beast was different.

Dragons were said to command wind and rain as naturally as breathing.

A bolt of lightning split the space between them.

For a brief moment, a halo of light illuminated the surroundings, reflecting the faces of Jeong Yeon-shin and Yulha Nangnang. Each was refined, yet devoid of color.

A realm beyond humanity.

To withstand the pressure emitted by the Flood Dragon, they had to continuously circulate the Grand Circulation throughout their bodies. The drain on both internal energy and mental focus was immense.

The three of them targeted the Flood Dragon’s head, striking with fists or unleashing sword slashes, but each time, dazzling sparks burst wildly into the air without piercing its scales.

Only the Abbot Beomheo’s Reverse Zen Hand managed to tear away a small portion of the dragon’s forehead, emitting a radiant glow.

Even amidst the storm of shockwaves, the dragon’s scales gleamed coolly. Without enough time to amplify their striking force, even leaving a scratch was a daunting task.

Only after half a shichen had passed.

A figure thickly wrapped in white robes suddenly appeared. A being whose entire body was made of bone—Dark Heaven Emperor.

[The force surges in unison.]

Had he turned being caught in Jeong Yeon-shin and Yulha Nangnang’s joint assault into an opportunity?

The moment he manifested, he flung dozens of streaks of white fire at Abbot Beomheo like a net, warping space around them and producing a chilling roar. But before the flames could reach, they shattered against the strike of the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.

Abbot Beomheo, seated in a meditative position, had raised his fist.

The golden wave radiating from his strike tore through the black clouds, splitting them apart to reveal sunlight. Meanwhile, below, the Flood Dragon opened its jaws, inhaling the breath of fire.

The blue light flickering in Dark Heaven Emperor’s eye sockets was chilling. He had clearly refined his sorcery techniques even further.

His voice resonated lowly.

[No matter how infinite the power of Muscle and Bone Cleansing Sutra may be, can it compare to the Flood Dragon? Even if Shaolin and Mount Hua join hands, it is useless. You should have gathered three sects of the Nine Schools. No mere imperial swords of Wudang, trained only in combat, could replace them.]

Before his words had even finished, a towering pillar of flame erupted from the surface of Zhejiang, merging with the dark clouds to engulf Abbot Beomheo.

Steam hissed violently over the flaming surface, forming a massive column of fire that could consume the entire Zhejiang River.

The Flood Dragon’s breath.

The attack landed at the perfect moment. The supreme spiritual beast’s movements had changed as if waking from a dream—undoubtedly a result of Dark Heaven Emperor’s sorcery.

[This battle will not last beyond half a day.]

The absolute martial artist, whose immortal body was sculpted from bone, declared with certainty.

Suddenly, golden petals descended upon the Flood Dragon’s forehead, coalescing into the seated figure of Abbot Beomheo.

The secret ultimate technique—Vajra Immovable Body.

The elderly monk now sat naturally between the dragon’s massive eyes, as if the raised blue scales were the prayer hall of a temple.

At that moment, the Flood Dragon’s vast body shuddered to a halt. It was as if it had been trapped in the Buddha’s grasp.

[The Great Power of Prajna...!]

Dark Heaven Emperor’s voice quivered with anger.

The complete manifestation of Abbot Beomheo’s Six Harmonies.

The Flood Dragon’s form, which had been constantly slashing through the air, now hung frozen as if suspended in the void.

It was martial arts halting a natural disaster. Even the ultimate form of the Imperial Sword Style would struggle to replicate such a sight.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin, who had suddenly appeared behind Dark Heaven Emperor, stomped down on his back, sending him crashing downward.

He was now certain—among all those who had set foot in Hangzhou recently, the greatest martial artist was undoubtedly Abbot Beomheo.

A blazing halo spun rapidly within Jeong Yeon-shin’s heart. He drove his internal energy to its peak. The power surging through every meridian was now on an entirely different level.

All that force was instantly concentrated into the Life Gate at his back, the Bubbling Spring at his soles, and the Palace of Labor in his palms.

Innate talent channeled an ocean-like energy surge, controlling it as if guiding a river through floodgates.

Jeong Yeon-shin kicked off the air in reverse, his body igniting a massive ripple before plummeting directly onto the Flood Dragon’s torso.

The enormous body bent downward. The sound was like the overlapping echoes of dozens of lightning bolts crashing together.

Beneath the dragon’s massive frame, the surface of the Zhejiang River caved inward. The condensed shockwave of the focused sword strike had completely pierced through its scales.

A deep, thunderous roar rang out, followed by a violent explosion of waves. Sunlight shimmered through the mist of water, scattering into iridescent foam.

As the spectators on the distant ground gasped in astonishment, Dark Heaven Emperor fell silent, his gaze sweeping over the rippling water.

In that moment, the wrinkled eyes of Abbot Beomheo, still seated on the Flood Dragon’s forehead, flashed with a faint glimmer of surprise.

Ipwang Fortress’s violet hue.

A blade was wielded against a divine being.

The flow of the battle seamlessly aligned with the rhythm of the Nine Schools’ Immortals—combining forces and transitioning into an offensive stance.

For a nation’s sword, this was only natural. The battle robe bestowed upon Jeong Yeon-shin by the Emperor still remained its pristine purple.

[The fledgling of Ipwang Fortress.]

At last, Dark Heaven Emperor’s gaze shifted from Abbot Beomheo.

His eye sockets burned with an azure flame as he looked straight at Jeong Yeon-shin.

[It would be a waste for one with such talent to die here. I acknowledge you. You and Beomheo alike could very well be the stepping stones to Three Peaks.]

The gaze of an immortal who had spent centuries preparing was distant—his blue eyes carried an unfathomable depth of time.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly had an instinctive realization.

All of them—friend and foe alike—were thinking the same thing.

Abbot Beomheo, Dark Heaven Emperor, and even Yulha Nangnang, who had hidden herself among the clouds, had no intention of prolonging this fight.

Considering the potential harm to civilians, their own dwindling stamina, and the myriad variables at play, this battle had to be finished swiftly.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly spoke.

“You said you once met Three Peaks Zhenren.”

He lowered his left hand onto the massive dragon scales beneath him, gripping the hilt of Songmun Ancient Sword.

Between the hardened calluses of his fingers, the faded pine tree engraving emerged.

At that instant, the water below the supreme martial artists curved into smooth arcs.