Chapter 489: Chapter 489

Jeong Yeon-shin had stepped out to greet the uninvited guests.

In the meantime, only a few remained in Mok Manor. The commoners had already left the estate earlier.

Now, the only ones holding their ground were the grandmasters of the Nine Great Sects, the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, the Divine Doctor, and, belatedly, the Drunken Beggar King, who had quietly returned to the manor.

Not a single ordinary person among them.

—We should first show our respects to the imperial envoy.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s calm voice carried through the air.

The absolute masters listened from where they sat. Some had left their doors open while they sat cross-legged in the great hall, others stood idly on the rooftops of the inner quarters.

Perched on a tree branch, the Drunken Beggar King finally spoke.

“Are you saying that kid is the future of Ipwang Fortress?”

He muttered to himself, though no one responded immediately.

Only Yulha Nangnang slightly lifted her eyelids and parted her lips.

“...Not the future. He is the present. He’s the unrivaled swordsman who claimed the right hand of the Lord of Heaven’s Extremity Sect. The only one among the Violet Rank actively moving in the martial world.”

“...Truly a grim reality...”

The Drunken Beggar King trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

His gaze flickered toward the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, who had been standing silently the entire time. Then, with a huff, he turned to the Divine Doctor, who lay sprawled on the dirt floor as if it were a bed, and barked out.

“Enough already! Even I have been running around for the world’s sake! Are you just going to leave me here to die?”

Grumbling, he absentmindedly rubbed his stomach. His ragged, tattered clothing bore a faint diagonal bloodstain—a scar left by the sword of the Lord of Heaven’s Extremity Sect near Hangzhou.

The Divine Doctor didn’t so much as lift a finger. He remained in the same state of exhaustion.

“Die? What nonsense. You old beggar, how long were you basking in the Small Conqueror’s power? Your body is practically overflowing with renewed energy.”

“No wonder it was itchy.”

The Drunken Beggar King replied nonchalantly.

He already knew. A supreme master of body-strengthening techniques, capable of surpassing Wild Annihilation, would never fail to notice the state of his own body.

He had only changed the subject because of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

The Beggars' Sect owed him a great debt.

Someday, in some way, the Drunken Beggar King intended to repay Jeong Yeon-shin. At the very least, he could be of more help than some fallen wandering warrior.

A boy who spent his entire life in Hanyang without ever seeing the faces of the imperial relatives...

Tapping the bottom of the gourd tied to his waist, he slowly glanced around. The people surrounding him were nothing short of monstrous.

“There’ll be a great backlash.”

He muttered to himself.

The amount of time these figures—who should have been stabilizing the vast ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ martial world—had spent in Hangzhou was immense.

The absolute masters, those who ensured that abominations like the Flood Dragon or the Human-Faced Spider Lord did not roam freely in broad daylight.

Because their disciples were holding the gates in their stead, the sect masters of the Nine Great Sects would be absent from the martial world for the foreseeable future.

They would all have to seclude themselves in their respective sects.

The same was true for the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

The absolute being who single-handedly sealed the Great Gate that had birthed countless martial clans during the founding era.

The fact that she was here at all made no sense.

Even if she intended to escort Jeong Yeon-shin to the Thousand-Year Tree, she wouldn’t be able to accompany him for long.

“In the end... only the Violet Rank and Ipwang Fortress will remain.”

They had no allies left.

The noble families cared only for their own rise, relegating the common people to second place. That was how they had maintained their prestige for so long. Even the Tang Clan had sent only its head alone to Hangzhou.

And the Thirteen Heavens, that massive unorthodox faction, was beyond discussion. They were a clear enemy that gnawed at the nation from within.

“With the late emperor gone and Beijing on the verge of collapse... Ipwang Fortress’s position has become precarious.”

The Drunken Beggar King glanced at the Lord of Ipwang Fortress as he spoke. She gave no response.

Qingshu suddenly asked. The young head of the Azure Firmament Sect earned a clicking tongue from the Drunken Beggar King.

“Ipwang Fortress stands as the undisputed number one sect in the world. But unlike other martial sects, it neither runs businesses in bustling cities nor collects tolls. Nor does it accept offerings like the Daoist and Buddhist sects. It’s an enormous institution, yet it survives without financial support.”

The old beggar shook his head and continued.

“How much money do you think it takes to maintain all the weapons, medicinal supplies, food, and clothing required to keep it running? The monthly salaries for all the elite warriors, their families, and disciples?”

“Surely, the imperial court secretly funds...”

The death of Emperor Gunreung.

The northern barbarians pressing right up to Beijing’s doorstep.

The vast flow of wealth that had once run like the Yangtze River had already been disrupted. It could be cut off at any moment.

Even if the Crown Prince of Beijing made a special effort to support them, the rampant rise of the Green Forest Bandits and the All-Merchant Waterway Gang had made logistics harder than ever.

And with skilled martial artists turning into roadside bandits in this age of chaos, the problem only worsened.

That was why Wild Annihilation, standing outside the gates of Mok Manor, had not expelled the merchants of Gwan Heo’s Merchant Guild in his rage.

The Flood Dragon had disappeared.

Now, they had to live in the present world.

“At least that kid is better than that old bastard Ma. Even with his Violet Rank, he knows how to separate public duty from personal affairs.”

The Drunken Beggar King chuckled, rubbing his stomach again.

No one agreed with him.

Then, Qingshu rose from his seat.

“The Azure Firmament Sect will take its leave.”

By then, the voice of the imperial envoy could be heard from outside.

—To Jeong Yeon-shin, the sword of this nation.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

These were the words Emperor Gunreung had left before he set out to face the god of war in the north, whom only he could oppose.

The voice of the imperial envoy, another descendant of the royal family, rang clear in the winter air.

—You must not ascend north.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice rose and then abruptly stopped.

The envoy’s words were the emperor’s decree.

For the first time, the Drunken Beggar King saw the eyelashes of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress tremble, if only slightly.

The air inside and outside the great hall seemed to freeze and then thaw.

The envoy’s voice continued, unwavering.

—The martial forces of the imperial army have long since retreated like an ebbing tide from the common people. I gathered them in the north and wielded them as my sword. It is the fault of my own shortcomings, having reached my limits, that the people now suffer under extreme famine and hardship. I can no longer demand greater sacrifice from them. The martial world stands upon a land already turned into a mountain of blades and a forest of swords, and I cannot take away the last remaining Violet Rank from it. How can a parent speak only of duty while abandoning their children? Furthermore, Seomye, you must not yet face the northern chieftains. You are too young, and your burdens are already too great.

—I have long since relinquished matters of the state. The Crown Prince and the Lord of Gungmyeong hold the people in their hands. Thus, I shall take up the sword myself, overseeing both the nation’s crisis and the people’s suffering.

The absolute masters of the Nine Great Sects fell silent.

The Drunken Beggar King and Qingshu’s eyes widened with each passing word.

The imperial envoy’s voice carried immense power, but beyond that, it demanded absolute attention.

How many in the martial world could receive such a decree from the late emperor himself?

From this day forward, no one in the imperial court—no one in the entire ruling structure of the nation—would dare stand against Wild Annihilation.

Instead, many would seek to approach him, hoping to share in the symbolic weight Emperor Gunreung had bestowed upon him.

A single decree had pacified the entire bureaucracy.

And so, without granting him an official title, the emperor had crowned Jeong Yeon-shin with an overwhelming burden.

—Right now, I sit at a war table in the military camp. I can feel the fierce presence of the barbarians on horseback. When the sun sets, battle will begin. The wind is cold, and my sword will cut well tonight. While you protect my nation, I shall be the sword that seals the north as a battle-mad emperor.

The Drunken Beggar King didn’t need to look to know what had happened.

The once unwavering eyes of the Scarlet King, who had threatened the Azure Southern Sword, must have wavered greatly beneath Jeong Yeon-shin’s foot.

The imperial envoy vanished like the wind as soon as he delivered his message. He seemed unusually pressed for time—something significant must have happened in Beijing.

Jeong Yeon-shin pondered deeply.

I’d rather pretend I didn’t hear it.

A command not to head north. If it hadn’t come from the emperor himself, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged it. He’d had enough of having his movements restricted back in the Jeong Household.

Nothing should be blocked in advance.

The more one was told not to go, the more a true gentleman wished to go. And if it involved the northern warriors of the barbarians, then even more so. He had heard about them countless times.

There are common people in the north too.

He tensed his legs and casually opened his mouth.

The sound beneath his feet was crushed under the weight of the cold winter wind, allowing him to feign nonchalance.

“The envoy must have been too preoccupied. His pronunciation was terribly unclear. I could hardly understand him.”

In this place, few could exchange words with him as equals. Naturally, it was more of a monologue.

“I memorized every word. No need to worry, Lord Jeong.”

Hyeon Won-chang cut in with a wide grin, looking extremely pleased with the imperial envoy’s message.

Jeong Yeon-shin thought his expression resembled that of an oblivious elder brother. At times —though rarely—he was reminded of Tae Yeom-ryong.

He could never understand why a man doomed to die was still running around so recklessly.

The Ice Palace is in the north too.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.

“...I will recall it myself. No need for you to say anything.”

As he spoke, the leader of Gwan Heo’s Merchant Guild took a step forward. His footfall on the ground was deliberate, cautious.

“I have a proposal for you, Lord Jeong.”

Despite Jeong Yeon-shin’s quick response, the merchant showed no surprise. Instead, he answered as if he had been expecting the question.

“Gwan Heo’s Merchant Guild was formed through an alliance of twenty-one major merchant groups from south of the Yangtze. We intend to support Ipwang Fortress, ensuring it has all the resources it needs for the coming year.”

“What does your guild expect in return?”

“Simply that five elite squads of the New Sword Division remain stationed in Zhejiang, Southern Zhili, Jiangxi, and Fujian at all times.”

The guild leader finished his words calmly.

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at his sleeve. Under the clear sunlight, the fabric shimmered faintly in violet hues.

“...The elite squads of my sect.”

“Three are enough to be invincible.”

“Which is precisely why we dare to ask for your help.”

The guild leader smiled faintly.

It was an offer to buy strength with wealth.

Wild Annihilation could refuse, but Jeong Yeon-shin, a Violet Rank warrior, could not. Now, he had to consider Ipwang Fortress’s survival.

The sect, situated in Yangyang, was about to face the full brunt of the chaos.

No power, no matter how great, could sustain itself on sheer strength alone.

Given the size of Ipwang Fortress, they couldn’t afford to rely solely on the imperial court for supplies. The empire was too unstable now.

Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated for a moment, about to glance back.

Is this my responsibility to handle...?

He half-hoped for the Lord of Ipwang Fortress’s counsel, but no voice came. Her presence felt as vacant as a leaf swaying in the wind.

Come to think of it, even among the high-ranking officials of the fortress, only the head of the Elder Council directly managed internal affairs.

The Lord of Ipwang Fortress, his grandfather, and the current commander of the New Sword Division—none of them were truly involved in running the fortress’s operations.

They were weapons, nothing more. Useful only for the protection of the nation.

The realization struck Jeong Yeon-shin hard.

Even the Lord of Ipwang Fortress wasn’t entirely reliable.

One of the remaining figures among the group cleared his throat.

It was Kang Su-hwi, the Grand Marshal of the Five Armies.

A man Jeong Yeon-shin had briefly interacted with after executing the head of the Zhuge Clan. Dressed in official robes with a wild fur mantle over them, he was a strikingly handsome man.

The third most powerful figure in the military.

A high-ranking official of the highest first rank.

Yet he had long since abandoned his palanquin, and his once sharp gaze had softened somewhat.

“If it’s about funding for Ipwang Fortress, do not worry. Thanks to the late emperor’s generosity, our Five Armies Grand Marshal’s Office still has vast reserves of military grain. Of course, transporting them to Yangyang is another issue, but I may be able to help, Lord Jeong. I cannot promise anything immediately, though.”

“You may speak as freely as before.”

Jeong Yeon-shin looked directly at him.

“Well, I do have one request... but I’ll bring it up at a more appropriate time.”

Just as the Grand Marshal feigned ignorance and ended his words—

A group of martial artists stepped forward.

Without a single fine steed among them, they moved solely on foot.

Clad in silk robes of various colors, their presence radiated undeniable mastery.

They were the Four Provinces Martial Alliance—recently rising to prominence.

“You may regard us as the Eastern Martial Alliance. My name is Tae Yeom-ryong.”

A middle-aged woman raised her fist in greeting and spoke.

“Our wealth may not be vast, but we have enough. Consider doing business with us as well. In these chaotic times, neither the military nor the merchant guilds can guarantee stability. Even after forming an alliance, we must remain on guard against the Green Forest Bandits and the All-Merchant Waterway Gang.”

A single narrow sword hung on her back, but her entire presence exuded the sharpness of a blade.

She was no ordinary swordswoman.

Just then, Hyeon Won-chang’s voice reached Jeong Yeon-shin through sound transmission.

—Tae Yeom-ryong! A former wanderer who established her own sect. Known to have mastered fifteen different sword arts. Her moniker is Resurrected Rakshasa. Said to be as tenacious as the noble assassins of the Bloodflame Cult.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t care.

The issue was that she, too, had come to make a deal with him.

With impeccable politeness, she proposed that her alliance would help guard the four eastern provinces.

Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his brows.

More figures were approaching Mok Manor. At least five or six more.

This was getting messy.

Who else would come, and what would they ask for in exchange?

Jeong Yeon-shin understood now.

Ipwang Fortress was a sect of battle-hardened warriors.

A fully sound-minded Violet Rank warrior was a rarity in this world.

And judging from today’s events, it seemed that he was the only one left.

He slowly parted his lips.

He needed to resolve all of this in one move.

He couldn’t waste any more time here.

“Bring me ink and paper.”

He turned to the merchant guild.

The guild leader’s face brightened as he hastily presented a brush and parchment.

Merchants never liked to seal agreements with mere words.

Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated for a moment.

Unlike Hyeon Won-chang, he was not articulate. Nor was he adept at provocation like Tae Yeom-ryong.

But situations would only multiply in the future.

Ipwang Fortress was rooted in the imperial court, and Beijing itself was trembling.

The weaker the empire grew, the more people would seek to seize control of Ipwang Fortress.

The thought alone sent heat surging through his Baihui acupoint.

With effortless mastery of the Airborne Manipulation Technique, the brush, ink, and paper floated into the air and danced.

[A Personal Address to the Powerholders of the World.

A blade that tears through flesh.

Its form is irrelevant.

A merchant’s gold, an official’s brush, and a warrior’s steel are no different.

If you hold to your duty, misfortune will not befall you.

Acting Commander of the New Sword Division, Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin.]

“I will compensate you handsomely. Copy it and spread it across the land. Your guild has the means to do so, does it not?”

Jeong Yeon-shin made the offer without emotion.

The merchant guild leader paled as he accepted the parchment.

And as the crimson dusk settled over Hangzhou, the day came to an end.