Chapter 488: Chapter 488

The Annihilation of the Wasteland, Seomye.

He stood atop the chest of a prince acknowledged by the late Emperor.

Golden-brown waves of energy rippled out in multiple layers from beneath the Red Phoenix King’s crushed back.

It was an immense burst of energy, powerful enough to propel him beyond Hangzhou if properly released. Yet, he couldn’t even lift his upper body.

There was no need for any countermeasure.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s long leg simply didn’t move—anchored like an immovable boulder, remaining in the same position as when he had struck.

His deep red robe fluttered as the wind mixed with his presence. The sunlight cast a crimson glow on the fabric.

It was a brilliantly bright day. The midday sun poured down relentlessly.

A breathless exclamation came from the side.

It was Jin Mu, a prodigy of Cheongseong, who had been chatting away with the martial artists of Ipwang Fortress just moments ago. Now, he absentmindedly touched the scabbard at his waist, staring blankly at Jeong Yeon-shin.

Meanwhile, silence spread among the eight factions lined up in formation.

Flags bearing their respective names swayed in the quiet.

Then, Ak Su-rim, who had been facing the two royal factions, slammed her spear into the ground—thud!—using it as a pole to vault backward.

She landed in front of Jeong Yeon-shin, breaking the silence.

Her posture naturally blocked the advancing warriors of the Red Phoenix King’s faction. She glanced at her young superior and smirked wryly.

“...Not just a resemblance.”

Her murmured words would never reach Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears.

At that moment, he turned slightly to glance at Ma Gwang-ik, standing behind him.

“Why did you hold back?”

Jeong Yeon-shin asked quietly.

“He’s a Joo, after all. Strong as expected.”

Ma Gwang-ik dusted off the hem of his pants with a chuckle.

The Azure Eye Sword—true to his name, a one-eyed swordsman with a blue headscarf—casually sheathed his sword with a smooth srrrng!

This was not the demeanor of an ordinary Azure warrior.

It was the composure of a leader who would soon inherit the Ma Gwang-ik Division.

Ma Gwang-ik had already mastered the Radiant Edge Method, a technique known to only a select few in Ipwang Fortress.

After the false rumors of Jeong Yeon-shin’s death had spread, Ma Gwang-ik had been pushed to his mental and emotional limits—leading him to break through and reach a new level.

“Lord Jeong, I believe there has been a misunderstanding...!”

A middle-aged man in blue official robes stepped forward from the Red Phoenix King’s faction.

“Our royal house has no intention of antagonizing Ipwang Fortress! His Highness merely wished to commend you for saving Hangzhou and inquire about your well-being, as is his duty as a prince—”

Far in the distance, Heon Won-chang muttered under his breath.

“The Azure Eye Sword is slated to become the next Ma Gwang-ik Lord, yet if they inquire about Lord Jeong’s well-being twice more, one of our divisions might get wiped out... Frightening.”

His voice carried, strengthened by deep internal energy.

Even without actively participating in the conversation, he had subtly reinforced Ipwang Fortress’s position.

The middle-aged man from the Red Phoenix King’s faction clamped his mouth shut.

“The Red Phoenix was excessive.”

A languid voice echoed.

It came from the direction of the two royal factions, past Ak Su-rim, who had been blocking their advance.

A figure descended from a palanquin—clad in dark navy robes similar to those of the Red Phoenix King.

It was King Jeong (Joo Tae-il).

Clicking his tongue in disapproval, his expression was leisurely, his presence commanding.

“I always knew that reckless pride of his would cause trouble. He should have chosen his battles more wisely.”

His long ears and archaic manner of speech gave him a distinct presence.

His face was undeniably handsome, but at this moment, his colorless gaze sank deeply as he scrutinized Jeong Yeon-shin.

A strategist and tactician.

A man renowned for his military prowess.

A decade ago, he had wiped out a notorious group of pirate martial artists who plagued the vast Lake Poyang, trapping them with military formations before annihilating them.

The way he had orchestrated their demise—seamless, natural, and thorough—was still legendary.

“Joo Tae-il,” he introduced himself.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

His voice was deep and weighty, befitting his reputation.

He was one of the rulers overseeing Jiangxi Province.

Jeong Yeon-shin regarded him silently before clasping his hands together in a slow, measured bow.

Despite his shocking entrance, he showed proper decorum.

His choice to introduce himself using his given title—bestowed upon him by the Lord of Ipwang Fortress—was telling.

Had he not been standing atop the Red Phoenix King, the scene might have been picture-perfect.

King Jeong pursed his lips briefly before speaking.

“I always thought you were a man I had to meet at least once, but I never imagined it would be under these circumstances. It also surprises me to hear that Yeongchok Shinyi treated your wounds.”

“May I ask your purpose here?”

Jeong Yeon-shin cut straight to the point.

Such directness would be unthinkable from any other martial sect.

After all, this was a conversation with a prince, a king.

But King Jeong merely glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin’s red-and-gold robe—shimmering like a mirage between royalty and warriorhood—and let out a hearty chuckle.

“There are fools claiming that this nation’s sword has been broken, so I came to see for myself. Now that I have, it’s clear that far from breaking, the blade is sharper than ever. Rumors are useless.”

“What else would there be? This land has long been hollowed out by the invading forces of the northern Yojok. The safety of the one guarding the wasteland is of the utmost importance.”

King Jeong deftly dodged the question.

The Jeong Royal House had only ever had one ruling prince.

Blessed with an unusually strong lineage, he had never been succeeded.

His archaic mannerisms aside, his survival instincts had been honed over decades.

‘He’s even worse than Ma Yeon-jeok. How is he standing there so calmly, trampling a prince underfoot in broad daylight...?’

Was it the state of the world?

Was it because of his unparalleled status?

King Jeong silently shook his head as he looked at Jeong Yeon-shin, who gazed back at him with clear, unclouded eyes.

There was no hidden agenda.

No political scheming.

It was simply how he was.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke in his usual flat tone.

King Jeong chuckled, nodding.

A chill ran down his spine, as if something had grasped the back of his neck.

“...Of course. Your body isn’t just yours—it belongs to the entire nation. Please take care of it.”

“I appreciate the words.”

Jeong Yeon-shin once again clasped his hands in a formal gongshu gesture.

It was an impeccable display of respect—perfectly suited for addressing a senior or a king.

Yet, King Jeong, an old hand at court politics, recognized it for what it was.

An unmistakable sign to leave.

“...Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable.”

King Jeong, his posture as dignified as ever, stepped back onto the palanquin in the exact position he had descended from.

Without turning around, he walked backward—the complete opposite of a forward stance.

Watching him ascend, The Annihilation of the Wasteland spoke.

“Matters of warriors should be resolved among warriors. Your Highness need not concern yourself.”

“Concern? Hardly. Since I first heard rumors about you, I have rarely worried about the nation's security. I have no doubts about Ipwang Fortress’s continued dominance.”

King Jeong’s voice carried an air of nonchalance.

“Take care of yourself. I mean that—stay strong for a long time.”

“...If governing the land bestowed upon you by the late Emperor proves too burdensome, feel free to send word to the capital at any time.”

“I appreciate the offer. I, too, have long wished to send an envoy to Ipwang Fortress.”

“I have yet to consider starting a family, though...”

“Understandable. My own father passed away when I was young, and I spent my foolish youth resenting him for it. You possess not only chivalry and martial prowess but also a strong sense of responsibility.”

King Jeong naturally began to withdraw—but then paused.

Something had shifted.

The Annihilation of the Wasteland, whose expression had remained composed throughout, now bore a shadow of gloom.

King Jeong instinctively knew—whatever rapport they had built in their brief conversation had crumbled like a sandcastle.

“Let’s go. I’ve been away from the palace for too long.”

He didn’t bother trying to guess the reason.

It was like trying to predict a drought, a flood, an earthquake, or a landslide—pointless.

Instead, with a dignified gesture, he signaled his warriors to retreat.

“Unless there is something truly momentous, there will be no need for you to step into Jiangxi. I will see to it myself.”

The sound of countless hooves faded into the distance.

King Jeong, having left behind his quiet pledge to The Annihilation of the Wasteland, turned his palanquin and departed, accompanied by his martial troops.

Thus, one of the eight factions withdrew.

A dusty wind silently filled the empty space they left behind.

A royal house governs the land.

Ipwang Fortress maintains order across the nation with warriors of transcendent martial prowess.

Clashes between the two are inevitable.

Sometimes, this leads to open combat.

Though their affairs are often kept confidential, the presence of three royal factions alone had been enough to keep Ak Su-rim and the others on guard.

They had known from the start that the kings themselves had come.

And in times of upheaval, it was inevitable that royal factions would visit Ipwang Fortress.

Yet, despite being a renowned military strategist, King Jeong had barely observed The Annihilation of the Wasteland before withdrawing.

That alone carried a significant meaning.

The Merchants’ Guild of Guanhe and the Four Symbols Martial Alliance stirred restlessly.

Unlike King Jeong, they had no justifiable reason for their presence.

They had come for profit and for sport.

And now, contrary to the rumors, The Annihilation of the Wasteland stood unharmed.

“The Duke of Jiangxi said everything I was going to.”

The third royal faction.

Without dismounting, the Luminous King of Northern Fujian tilted her head toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

Her broad-brimmed official cap was pinned atop an elaborate updo, framing her face.

Razor-sharp ears peeked out from either side.

She introduced herself.

Then, with a mere stroke of her hand against the stallion’s neck, the horse turned in place.

A distinct trait of the Myung lineage—a supernatural mastery of horsemanship.

The Annihilation of the Wasteland, who had been surveying the scene with dry eyes, finally showed a flicker of interest.

“You’re leaving already?”

“I’ve confirmed your safety. You seem like the type to handle things on your own.”

“They say the cavalry arts of the Yojok are unrivaled in the world. How does Your Highness’s horsemanship compare?”

“What an odd thing for a Purple-Robed Warrior to ask.”

A faint smile played on the Luminous King’s lips.

“The cavalry arts of the Yojok...”

She rubbed her chin before answering.

“That is not martial arts.”

The Annihilation of the Wasteland blinked.

By then, the Luminous King had nearly finished turning her horse. She nodded once.

“No, it is warfare. It uses internal energy like martial arts, but its purpose is entirely different. Perhaps a swordmaster like you would understand, but most martial sects—who are accustomed to fighting with both feet on the ground—are inevitably overwhelmed by cavalry. Even the warriors of Ipwang Fortress are no exception.”

“That has broadened my understanding. But are you certain you won’t enter the manor?”

The moment The Annihilation of the Wasteland reached out a hand—

She brushed the stallion’s neck once more.

At once, the warhorse neighed sharply, its hooves striking the earth with thunderous force before galloping off.

Behind her, the Luminous King’s martial troops stowed their weapons and receded like a retreating tide.

“If you ever suffer an injury to your dantian, come and marry me.”

The words of the departing king hung over the silent entrance of Mokga Manor.

From the side, Heon Won-chang scoffed.

“Even if they fear his martial prowess and temperament, they still covet his looks. These nobles...”

The Annihilation of the Wasteland glanced at him in mild confusion—then suddenly pressed down with his leg.

A massive explosion erupted beneath the earth.

Through the billowing dust, the Red Phoenix King’s eyes rolled back.

His final attempt to launch himself from the ground had been crushed instantly.

The Annihilation of the Wasteland slowly lowered his gaze.

“When the late Emperor’s will is honed into a blade, it turns purple. As a prince, you spoke of life and death among the warriors of Ipwang Fortress. By that logic, the judgment of your treason falls to me. Have you made arrangements for your successor?”

Then, lifting his head, he asked—

“And you all—what business do you have?”

His golden eyes swept over the remaining factions.

The Military Commanders of the Eastern Capital.

The Merchants’ Guild of Guanhe.

The Provincial Inspectors of Zhejiang.

The Four Symbols Martial Alliance.

And the imperial envoy—bearing a golden flag emblazoned with the character ‘Ming (明)’.

The Annihilation of the Wasteland, Jeong Yeon-shin, felt the overwhelming weight of the world’s challenges.

His first true foray into the martial world as a Purple-Robed Warrior had been his duel to the death against the Lord of Celestial Extremes.

Since then, all factions—civil, noble, martial, and foreign—had turned their eyes toward him.

Most of them were formidable warriors.

And as the highest-ranking leader of Ipwang Fortress, it was his duty to handle them all.

A task far too heavy for an eighteen-year-old.

‘King Jeong and the Luminous King were different from their first impressions. They were... good people.’

Could he navigate this chaos with only words?

Even Zhuge Liang of Shu would have struggled with this.

“I should first show courtesy to the imperial envoy.”

Pressing his foot harder against the Red Phoenix King’s abdomen, Jeong Yeon-shin clasped his hands in a respectful gongshu gesture.

The imperial prince beneath him, ever resilient, remained barely conscious.

At the same time—half the assembled factions instinctively lowered their gaze.

Before they even spoke, their reason for coming had already been crushed.