Chapter 481: Chapter 481

Jeong Yeon-shin closed his eyes for a moment.

His entire body, battered from the relentless battles, now throbbed with pain, each meridian feeling as though pierced by countless needles.

And the final stroke—the sword strike that had retrieved Beomheo from an unknown place—had been the crowning blow.

By resonating his divine power with the remnants of "Empty Moon Dance" technique, he had poured every ounce of his strength into the thunderous slash.

Even if he attempted to train and recreate it, he would never succeed again. His body was utterly spent.

A gentle warmth spread from Yulha Nangnang’s touch as her fingers brushed through his hair. The weight of all the complicated emotions in his mind seemed to melt away.

He lowered his head slightly and met her gaze. Her smile deepened, completely untainted.

The great upheaval had ended.

They said that warriors of Ipwang Fortress, even if they had never fought side by side, would still feel a sense of camaraderie after battle.

For Jeong Yeon-shin, Yulha Nangnang, and Beomheo, that was even more certain.

They had saved each other’s lives multiple times in this battlefield alone.

‘The ties the abbot spoke of...’

Jeong Yeon-shin held Yulha Nangnang’s gaze a moment longer before speaking.

“Can you stand on your own?”

With a soft chuckle, the Head of Mount Hua slipped from his arms.

Her mastery of internal arts was a renowned secret to none. Even after a brief moment of rest, she had already recovered the energy needed to stabilize herself.

Yulha Nangnang landed lightly on the river’s surface and smiled.

“Your embrace was firm, yet comfortable.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“The way your body is structured... It’s entirely different from those of our sect’s swordsmen, who primarily refine transformation techniques. And yet, it doesn’t seem like you lack insight into those arts either. It’s rather peculiar.”

“That’s probably thanks to my ability to manipulate my own rebirth at will. I couldn’t afford to remain passive.”

Her eyelashes flickered slightly, but Jeong Yeon-shin had already turned his gaze toward Beomheo, who stood silently beside them.

‘She’s not at full strength yet.’

Her perception had dulled to the point that she hadn’t even noticed the state of the old monk right next to her.

When he had pulled Beomheo from that unknown space, he had felt an emptiness. The old master’s body was hollow.

He was no longer the overwhelming force once brimming with divine might. His qi and essence had been drained to the brink of collapse.

He would never rise as a warrior again.

Considering the sheer size of the dragon that had threatened to destroy everything, it was an inevitable price.

But even knowing that, it was difficult to accept the sight of Beomheo so feeble. His Empty Moon Dance technique had been nothing short of transcendent.

‘At the very least...’

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the old monk, who still stood upon the water as if nothing had changed, hands leisurely clasped behind his back.

The last vestiges of his internal energy far exceeded that of most martial masters.

But in truth, even speaking was likely a struggle for him.

[Ah... Hearing you young ones chatter so familiarly makes it clear this is no afterlife but the world of the living. You... You actually pulled this old body back.]

The response came as a thought transmission.

His mind remained intact.

The words Beomheo had spoken referred to the realms of nirvana and samsara—the other shore and this shore, life and death.

[I was meant to be crushed entirely... and I very nearly was. I must officially proclaim that Shaolin is forever indebted to you.]

There was even a faint trace of humor in his tone.

But Jeong Yeon-shin could tell—Beomheo was feigning composure.

Because standing right before them, gazing wordlessly at both him and Yulha Nangnang, was the Sword Emperor.

Of all those present, only he remained at full strength.

His silent gaze swept over Jeong Yeon-shin before shifting back to Yulha Nangnang.

There was weight in his stare.

Yulha Nangnang did not avert her eyes, but neither did she meet his gaze head-on.

Her expression was closer to that of someone pitying an old friend who had fallen into darkness.

"You’ve tormented your own soul."

She swayed slightly, then reached out, grasping Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder to steady herself.

Their scents mingled in the cold night air.

They stood closer than ever before.

The Sword Emperor remained silent.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

His face did not change in the slightest, yet Jeong Yeon-shin thought he saw the barest flicker in his eyes.

Beside them, Beomheo observed the scene quietly.

After a long pause, the Sword Emperor finally spoke.

“...Not yet sufficiently worn down.”

That was all he said.

Then, with a deliberate step, he turned away, his boots splashing against the water.

Though he still held his greatsword, the blade now seemed dull, its once oppressive aura no longer emanating.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled Beomheo’s words—

—Fate is something that defies calamity and shakes even disaster itself.

The Sword Emperor paused.

"Do you still hold onto your vengeance?"

"Ipwang Fortress warrior."

His voice fell heavily upon the water’s surface. Without turning back, he asked—

"And what about you?"

The one who had set everything in motion had spoken.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled the day he had first realized his own lifespan—the stench of blood filling Jeong Manor.

Countless events had unfolded since then, but at the very bottom of it all lay the extermination of his clan.

"I still have a greater purpose."

"Even if I cut you down one day, I will no longer be the third son of Jeong Manor."

He remembered the flickering violet lanterns beneath the dark sky.

And the voice of the Emperor who had once called him the sword of the nation.

He had been born in Jeong Manor, raised in Ipwang Fortress, and had arrived at this moment through the support of countless comrades.

He was the violet flame.

The Sword Emperor’s voice was quiet.

"Are capable of severing the life of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress."

"That’s a dog’s bark."

"Come find me when you are whole. ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) I will accept your duel then."

With that, the Sword Emperor’s figure blurred.

He kicked off from the water’s surface with explosive force, soaring into the sky.

A deafening roar followed as the river burst apart in his wake, sending towering waves crashing outward.

Then, in the blink of an eye, his form vanished beyond the heavens.

Jeong Yeon-shin, still standing in the spray with Yulha Nangnang, immediately turned to Beomheo, reaching out to support the old monk’s body.

"Why didn’t he finish you off? He must have known it was the perfect opportunity."

[...To him, striking down a Shaolin abbot who has spent his last strength would be a disgrace. Even so, he was once the crown prince of a fallen nation.]

"When my family was slaughtered, they killed even the servants."

[That is why they are outcasts. Their way of life follows a different measure than ours. There’s no need to dwell too deeply on it.]

Back in his prime, the only way to correct them was to shatter their skulls.

Beomheo’s voice carried a serene amusement, as if the thought transmission placed less strain on him than speaking aloud.

Jeong Yeon-shin took a step back, raised his hands in a respectful gesture, and bowed to them both.

"Thanks to you, the dragon has been completely repelled. I hope we can meet again to share in our relief."

Yulha Nangnang curved her lips into a smirk.

"I told you before, didn’t I? I’ll make you a bath infused with the best medicinal herbs."

Beomheo chuckled softly.

[Shaolin will await you.]

Jeong Yeon-shin nodded in gratitude.

"I will see you again at the House of the Divine Elder in Hangzhou. There are matters I must attend to..."

"The cult leader and the blood fiend?"

Yulha Nangnang asked back. Jeong Yeon-shin gave a slight nod.

"Both sides hold deep grudges."

"It certainly seemed that way..."

Her voice trailed off.

Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped back a few paces, worried that the force from his movement technique might negatively affect them.

The current Shaolin Abbot and the Mount Hua Sect Leader had both exhausted their strength.

"It won’t take long. Until we meet again, take care."

"A gentleman’s revenge is never too late, even after ten years... As the saying goes, even if it takes a decade, it is never too late for a nobleman to take his revenge. No matter what tricks the Ming Cult Leader tries to pull, don’t overextend yourself. Protect your life."

"A gentleman, ten years..."

For a moment, the colorless light in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes wavered ever so slightly.

Then, as if he hadn't heard Yulha Nangnang's words, he subtly lowered his head and, stepping onto the radiant white blade of Yeoroe, soared into the sky.

A somewhat unstable Sword Flight.

But in terms of speed, it was as overwhelming as the Wild Extinction’s nature—fierce and unstoppable. In an instant, he became a mere blur, blending into the clouds.

Far behind, an old beggar with nine knots tied to his waistband came running toward Beomheo and Yulha Nangnang.

Not a single ripple formed on the water’s surface as he sprinted.

It was Drunken Beggar King Joo Gwang-shin.

Earlier, within the domain of Void Annihilation Realm, he had decided not to engage in battle against the dragon, knowing he would only become a burden. Instead, he had been waiting for the right moment to intervene.

The deep sword wound carved into his abdomen by the Foremost Heretical Sword still festered in his flesh.

"That one, that one shouldn’t have been let go!"

Jeong Yeon-shin had already left Zhejiang completely.

Joo Gwang-shin’s outcry scattered powerlessly over the now tranquil river.

It was a single letter.

The strokes of the handwriting were urgent, filled with concern. The ends of each character barely lifted before colliding into the next, forming a frantic scrawl.

"My master worries too much."

A young beggar burned the letter, laughing. His scruffy face gleamed with oil, and the six knots tied to his belt signified a position of considerable prestige within the martial world.

He was a Six-Knot Disciple of the Beggars' Sect.

He curled his scar-ridden lips slightly. Ever since he had been bathed in Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain at Geum Si-mun, there wasn’t a single unscathed spot left on his body.

"My master should know I’d make good use of this."

Sitting in the middle of a noisy inn, Hu Gae remained untouched by the surrounding sounds.

He had sealed his hearing acupoints.

"Are you sure this came from the Sect Leader? The handwriting is such a mess I need confirmation."

Hu Gae asked the young woman across from him.

She looked just as unkempt as he did, but she was a Four-Knot Disciple of the Beggars' Sect. A recognized prodigy within their ranks, she had been entrusted with delivering an official letter from Dragon-Headed Sect Leader.

The Four-Knot Disciple smirked.

"Quite the haul, isn’t it?"

"It’s not just big. This is..."

Hu Gae swallowed his words.

And, against his own will, he felt a surge of greed.

Despite holding information capable of shaking the entire martial world, what lingered in his mind was the news about Ma Gwang-ik and One-Lotus Sword Maiden.

Such was the nature of grudges in Jianghu—thick and cloying like old blood.

‘There’s plenty to gain from this. I could sell it at a high price to those hunting Baek Mi-ryeo, or those with vendettas against Wild Extinction.’

Acting on this information personally would be foolish.

It would be far more profitable to sell it to those who had grievances against Ipwang Fortress.

"The factions aligning with Ipwang Fortress are a problem—Mount Hua, the Tang Clan, Emei, Shaolin... No need to even mention Zhongnan. They're all connected to Wild Extinction in some way."

"Hu Gae, you wouldn’t—"

"I’m thinking of doing something big for our sect."

Those connected to Ipwang Fortress were like a double-edged sword—dangerous, yet valuable.

Hu Gae grinned as he murmured over an unformed scheme.

"No matter how tolerant Ipwang Fortress is of those with No Veins, inheriting Foremost Invincible Sword's techniques is a different story. His past sins ensure that. This incident is big enough to drag in Jeong Yeon-shin’s niece too..."

Suddenly, the Four-Knot Disciple sitting across from him vanished.

A pale hand blade crashed down onto Hu Gae’s head. The sound of his skull being crushed echoed within the sealed hearing barrier.

Before he could react, the Four-Knot Disciple, now standing behind him, raised her blood-drenched hand.

"You should know your limits."

"The Great Master of Jianghu must now choose between the Crown Prince and Prince of Gungmyeong."

She was not a Four-Knot Disciple of the Beggars’ Sect.

She was one of the imperial warriors who had returned from a failed northern campaign.

The content of the letter was true.

But the letter itself had not been directly issued by the Beggars’ Sect Leader. It had been forged to identify those who harbored resentment toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

And in this very moment, similar operations were unfolding across Jianghu.

As forces began converging upon Jeong Yeon-shin.