Chapter 495: Chapter 495

When I set out for Hangzhou.

After slaying the Three Sorcerer Seats of Taemosan Fortress, restructuring the Singeom Dan under the General Directorate, and engaging in a nerve-wracking standoff with the Prince of Gungmyeong for two days, I finally crossed Yangyang to reach Hangzhou.

All of this took less than seven days and nights. The reason was simple—I mounted Yeoroe and alternated between full-speed flight and controlled breathing exercises.

A journey that grand required only three days. So, traveling from the eastern village of the Celestial Tree to its central region should only take a moment.

Jeong Yeon-shin landed lightly on the ground.

The pristine white Yeoroe flew of its own accord, tapped the hilt of the Songmun Highblade, and slid smoothly into its scabbard.

An unnecessary movement accompanied the sheathing—something that had been troubling him recently.

Even in a deadly battle where a single inch of blade movement could decide life or death, such an error could not be tolerated.

There’s no issue with the Transcendent Dragon’s Harmonious Flow...

He was absentmindedly running his fingers over Yeoroe’s hilt when—

"An outsider...? Where did you come from?"

A voice, startled, rang out.

Towering ancient trees loomed ahead like an impenetrable wall. Perched upon the branches, like city gate sentinels, were a dozen swordsmen—likely city guards—each gazing down at him.

Like all members of the Noble Clan, they possessed distinctly human features, but their deep blue irises gleamed with an almost unnatural intensity.

A sight he would grow familiar with.

"I am Seomye of Ipwang Fortress. I represent my lineage with my noble status."

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly, exuding absolute confidence.

There was no reason for hesitation. He had no intention of sneaking into the heart of the Celestial Tree where its main body resided.

Once he learned the truth, he would have to speak openly with the experts of this place. All he needed now was the quickest route.

—You’re not a wandering nobleman, so why climb walls?

His uncle, Ma Jin, had once said that.

It was back when Jeong Yeon-shin had barged into the Huashan Summit’s martial tournament.

Even Jeong Yeon-shin, who constantly worried about his grandfather’s and uncle’s temperaments, had found himself silently agreeing with that remark. Even the man known as the Reaper of the Abyss could occasionally say something sensible.

"It's not a lie. Seomye, huh...? Anyone heard of him?"

"I’ll go ask the merchants outside. Wait here."

"Someone from Ipwang Fortress? That doesn't make sense. It's too early for their arrival. Did the city run out of supplies or something?"

"No. We don’t need anything."

"He doesn’t look like he’s starving. Should we just chase him off? Actually, how did he even get in?"

"He’s strong, but I can’t sense anything from him. Is he suppressing his energy? Something feels off..."

"Look at his robes. He’s a Violet. Just like the New Celestial Rhapsodist."

"And come to think of it, he’s dressed exactly like Ma the Dreaded Dream. This isn’t a small matter. Report this to the Elder Council immediately!"

The swordsmen standing atop the trees made no effort to lower their voices. Their words carried a natural weight, likely due to their extraordinary cultivation. Their voices resonated openly, their profound internal energy laced within.

Yet Jeong Yeon-shin sensed no hostility from them.

It was as if they were nobles lounging in a familiar drawing room, casually assessing a guest. Though they spoke of expelling him, scrutinizing him from head to toe, none of it seemed intentionally rude.

Even the mention of Ma the Dreaded Dream, a reference to his grandfather, felt oddly natural.

At the same time, he thought to himself.

The density of their energy was staggering.

Even as several of them disappeared behind the trees, their lingering presence was sharp, like a coiled thread brushing against his skin.

Each of them had refined their intangible sword aura over countless years, reaching an unfathomable level of cultivation. And these were merely the sentinels at the city’s entrance.

An unparalleled guard.

Just as the old man Jong-yeon had described.

Not only were the Celestial Tree’s Four Grand Protectors near the level of absolute masters, but even the warriors safeguarding the city's perimeter were formidable.

Naturally, Jeong Yeon-shin's curiosity only deepened.

Why were they so... at ease?

The Guardian Commander of Heaven’s Sovereign, Cheon So-so, tirelessly worked to protect the land’s energy flow.

Bukgung Ah of Yeouicheon constantly threw herself into peril.

Even the Singeom Dan, caught in the lethal chaos of Kangho’s blade forests, was always striving to maintain order.

Not a single faction had the luxury of peace.

It was only natural that the protectors of the Celestial Tree would be powerful. But if their Four Grand Protectors were as monstrous as they were rumored to be, then wasn’t their strength simply overflowing?

While the warriors of the Singeom Dan were dying in battle, what exactly had these people been doing?

Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips tightened.

The warriors of the Noble Clan, blessed with naturally keen mind’s eyes, immediately noticed his subtle change in expression.

They twisted their feet atop the branches, vanishing in an instant—only to reappear, encircling Jeong Yeon-shin in a seamless formation.

Their movements were akin to a divine art.

The sudden burst of their movement technique turned the surroundings into a wasteland. The sheer force shattered the ground, sending soil and rock debris flying in all directions, obscuring Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision.

Beyond that dust cloud.

The three warriors who remained on the wooden watchtower had already drawn massive bows from their backs. Even at a glance, the bowstrings were as taut as iron rods, gleaming with a faint, radiant energy.

A deep, reverberating hum echoed from their energy waves.

Just as famed swordsmen coated their blades with internal force, these archers infused their weapons with the same Qi-charged Sword technique—except on a bow. If they ventured into Kangho, they would undoubtedly rise to great fame.

Their combined strength rivaled the Thirteen Heavens’ Night Assault, their vigilance razor-sharp, akin to the enforcer of the Celestial Tree, Chi Cheon-gung Baek.

"If you summon the leader of this city for me."

Jeong Yeon-shin curled his lips faintly.

"I will not draw my sword."

Jeong Yeon-shin concluded his words in a low voice.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Yet, even the smallest change in his expression caused the warriors around him to react intensely.

Few in this place would take the words of an Ipwang Fortress noble at face value. Jeong Yeon-shin had already expected this.

That was the way of Kangho.

Why would the Noble Clan be any different?

Four warriors charged at him first, soundless as they stepped forward with blinding speed. The moment they closed the distance, their blades unsheathed, each sword drawn at a slightly different angle—yet following a precise and uniform technique.

Their movements were flawlessly clean, elegant in their execution. Even an untrained eye could recognize it as a refined sword art.

The Divine Sword of Interwoven Steel Beneath the Trees.

It was exactly as the old man Jong-yeon had described.

Four blades converged on him from all directions, seamlessly blending with the wind.

A sword art that completely concealed its presence, maximizing the speed of the attack from the moment of the draw.

The instant their swords met Jeong Yeon-shin, they shattered into three pieces each with a deafening explosion.

Before the collision was even complete, the blades had already been reduced to fragments. The impact force, surging outward like a tidal wave, sent their shattered remains skyward—only to be split once more midair.

The storm-like backlash hurled the Noble Clan swordsmen back along the very paths they had rushed in on.

Blood spewed from their lips as they tumbled to the ground.

A heavy, resonating tremor spread across the area.

They had rushed in at full force, only to crash into an immovable wall. Those who had spent their entire lives in comfort could never hope to cut through the hardened flesh of the Tang siblings.

Jeong Yeon-shin, now enveloped in a faint radiance, took a step forward.

The warriors at his feet, now the owners of broken blades, were not even worthy of his gaze.

From above, three streaks of light carved diagonal lines through the air. The archers, perched atop the trees, had loosed their arrows.

The timing was perfect.

By the time the arrowheads came into view, they had already grown as large as bowls. Their speed warped the air like the sweltering heat of summer—no ordinary bows.

Jeong Yeon-shin spun his sleeves twice, moving as if dancing.

With the first rotation, he caught two arrows mid-flight and flung them back.

He still had time left to grasp the last arrow in his palm and coat it with Transcendent Dragon’s Harmonious Flow.

All within a single instant.

The two arrows he had deflected shot straight back into their original owners, piercing through their protective energy and embedding themselves deep into their sides.

Overwhelmed by the sheer force, the archers’ mouths gaped open in silent shock as they were sent flying beyond the wooden walls and into the city.

By then, the final arrow had already vanished from Jeong Yeon-shin’s grasp.

The last remaining archer, his face stricken with panic, hastily pulled back his bowstring—only to be blasted backward by an unseen force before he could fire.

The arrow he had drawn retraced its path in an erratic zigzag, its trajectory aligning with the encirclement of Noble Clan swordsmen.

A cascade of collisions was inevitable.

Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwaang!

The explosive sounds of their protective energy being shattered filled the air.

As their sword paths disintegrated into tangled afterimages, the Noble Clan swordsmen fell, unable to extend their blades even halfway.

Through the gaps between their collapsing bodies, Jeong Yeon-shin’s violet robes billowed gracefully.

The arrow, now an airborne sword, embedded itself at his feet. Its finely crafted fletching trembled slightly, but the vibrations were swallowed by the sound of his measured footsteps.

"You... someone like you... why... why go this far...?"

One of them was still conscious.

A female swordsman, her long black hair splayed across the ground, exposing her elongated ears.

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at her before resuming his slow walk.

"Does this land extend mercy even to those who strike first? In the outside world, you stake your life on such matters."

He didn’t bother making eye contact as he asked.

The swordswoman remained silent.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly nodded.

"I won’t try to justify it."

"This was my Six Cycles at work."

He did not stop walking.

The old man Jong-yeon had said that even the city’s gatekeepers were among the most powerful warriors of the Celestial Tree.

It was a foundational belief that those who guarded the gates had to be strong.

Though they paled in comparison to the absolute protectors, their martial prowess was undeniable.

Jeong Yeon-shin did not let his guard down.

After his experiences with the Highblade Hermit and the Hangzhou Cataclysm, he had been profoundly humbled.

He had accepted the inferiority he had long tried to ignore, forced to face the fractured reflection of So Cheonmujuk time and time again.

He no longer thought of monkeys.

The world was full of people far greater than himself and So Cheonmujuk.

Even Shin So-bin, who would one day become the Great Sage, would live longer than the two of them combined.

The low groan of a Noble Clan swordsman was drowned out by the sound of Jeong Yeon-shin’s footsteps.

It was a serene city.

Emerald-hued motes floated gently like fireflies in the air.

Rows of thatched houses, their roofs woven from massive leaves, lined one side of the street, while pristine white, curved-tile structures spread outward in a grand circular pattern.

People, adorned in various flowing garments, moved effortlessly atop them like immortals traversing the heavens.

This was the heart of the Celestial Tree Clan.

Naturally, news traveled fast.

The intrusion of an Ipwang Fortress noble was immediately known, spreading so quickly that even the Elder Hall, nestled deep within the city, was soon filled with resonant voices.

“The main gate has collapsed?”

A voice laced with disbelief.

It belonged to a figure who stepped out, parting the long, intricately woven bamboo blinds.

No light illuminated their form, revealing only the silhouette—smooth, curving muscles clashing against starkly gaunt cheeks.

The innermost chamber of the Elder Hall.

Beyond these bamboo blinds lay the true heart of the Celestial Tree.

The most sacred place in the world.

A subordinate, kneeling on one knee, spoke.

“It took barely a few breaths to defeat the gate guards. He never struck twice. They were powerless to stop him... He will arrive at the city center soon. I advise you, My Lord, to seek refuge before the Four Great Guardians intervene.”

“Leave our roots behind?”

“No matter how much he is Ma Yeon-jeok’s grandson, he cannot draw closer to the Celestial Tree itself. Chi Cheon-gung Baek himself claimed that he is reckless but methodical in his work.”

“And yet this lacks all sense. Even warriors on the battlefield justify their blades before they strike. To wield a sword without reason—what kind of savagery is this...?”

The figure’s ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) murmuring dissolved into the darkness.

Suddenly, golden lightning flashed through the chamber, illuminating everything in an instant.

A young man, cloaked in thunder, stepped inside.

Celestial Tree’s Golden Barrier.

The kneeling subordinate’s expression brightened at the sight of him.

“Well, you know... someone like him might be angry. He probably doesn’t understand. Growing up under Ma Yeon-jeok’s wing, he wouldn’t have much patience for things like declarations of war.”

The Golden Barrier spoke lazily, drawing out his words.

“But still... this is his master’s homeland. He won’t cross the line so easily. I’ll go talk to him.”

His speech carried no particular formality, teetering somewhere between respectful and irreverent.

His tone made it unclear whether he was awake or still half-dreaming.

Yet the atmosphere in the hall remained undisturbed.

A profound sense of tranquility.

―In a world veiled in darkness.

A voice echoed, expanding through the six directions.

It filled the city to its edges, reaching even the innermost depths of the Elder Hall.

The words halted the conversation.

Even the Golden Barrier fell silent.

―As a sword of the nation, I behold this place.

Enjoying the land’s pleasures, mingling with nature.

Yet in this paradise, there is none to speak with......

The young man continued his recitation, his voice smooth and melodic.

As he reached the final line, his tone turned chilling.

―So I turned to my sword and asked the world.