Chapter 496: Chapter 496

The Elders’ Hall of the Celestial Tree.

Suddenly, specks of green radiance silently rose from beneath one side of the threshold.

A halo of light subtly illuminated the surroundings. Instantly, the complexions of those gathered ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) inside became even paler, and the shadows that had once lingered over the woman’s face completely vanished.

The First Elder of the Noble Clan.

Her features were similar to those of any other member of the noble lineage, except for the slightly sunken cheeks that made her face appear more gaunt.

This contrast, paired with the calm downward slope of her eyes, gave her a stern, unyielding appearance. It made her seem devoid of leisure, her presence severe and rigid.

The only thing that softened her sharp impression was the flowing hem of the deep green silken robes, personally granted to her by the Emperor of Gunreung in ancient times.

“A declaration of war.”

The words spoken by Gwangya Ilmyeol of Ipwang Fortress had been unmistakably so. Even the brief ceremonial tone in which they had been delivered had been proper.

Beside the First Elder, Geumbyeokja clapped his hands with wide eyes.

“Does that really count? He does have a nice voice, though.”

“How outrageously arrogant...! Entering this land without permission, proclaiming himself the National Sword, speaking as if he could shape the world with nothing but a blade...”

The swordsman who had been reporting to the First Elder stood up mid-sentence, his blue eyes gleaming sharply. At that moment, an invisible wind surged around his entire body.

But it lasted only for an instant.

The fluttering hem of the noble swordsman’s robe settled as abruptly as it had flared, as though nothing had happened at all. This was because Geumbyeokja had placed a hand on his shoulder.

A figure known to have gained profound Daoist enlightenment after learning directly from Jang Sambong. He was the embodiment of the concept of effortless action—Wu Wei.

At this moment, his face was as blank and emotionless as a lightning bolt indifferent to the world.

There was no trace of human expression.

“Do not be so hasty.”

His voice was quiet, but it carried an undercurrent of reverberating thunder. Geumbyeokja, narrowing his eyes, slowly continued.

“Gunmok is right here. He’s not someone you should be speaking about so lightly.”

The swordsman hesitated momentarily before bowing his head. A moment later, Geumbyeokja suddenly grinned and patted his shoulder lightly.

“Well, should I be stepping out now? Fire gives birth to earth, and earth gives birth to metal... The fiery-tempered First Elder has emerged, and now the wealthy Lord Yongji has stepped in. That means it’s my turn next, doesn’t it?”

“The grandson of Ma Yeon-jeok has walked straight to our doorstep. The bloodline of an ominous prophecy must be dealt with first.”

The First Elder spoke calmly. Geumbyeokja shook his head from side to side.

“We’ll see about that. Our tree’s appetite is growing insatiable by the day—if we’re not careful, the entire world might just come crashing down...”

At the First Elder’s call, Geumbyeokja shrugged lightly.

“Shall we see his face?”

As he turned toward the outside, lightning streaked and flickered along the hem of his sleeve.

During his stay in Beijing, Yong Hui-myeong had once offered him a piece of advice in jest.

— "The Divine Sword Sect Masters have always been adept in both the civil and martial arts. They were skilled in both debates and swordplay. If one side was at a disadvantage, they would overwhelm with the other... Your maternal grandfather, in particular, had a habit of doing so. In any case, if you want to take the Transcendent Sword from me, you must first make it known to the world that your words are invincible. The power of Ipwang Fortress comes from the people's will, and that will sways with the movement of tongues and brushes."

Jeong Yeon-shin had taken these words seriously.

One could lose in a duel of life and death. On such days, fate was left to the heavens.

However, if one faltered in a contest of legitimacy, they could no longer call themselves a true warrior. Such a person could never claim to wield the most righteous sword in the world.

A sword against the world.

Having concluded his thoughts, Jeong Yeon-shin remained still for a long time.

It was after he had entered the city of the Noble Clan. Even as the encirclement thickened so much that it obscured the scenery around him, he did not move.

A land where night and day did not exist.

Though he had been standing there for quite some time, it felt as if time itself had not moved. As if it stretched endlessly, just like the long years of the Noble Clan.

Resting his arm on Ye-roe, he lowered his eyelids slightly.

The green luminescence, the nature of which he could still not discern, trickled down the back of his hand like scattered grains of light. There was no particular sensation.

The surroundings were simply bathed in an eerie green glow.

More people need to gather here.

That was the reason he had uttered such a crude melody earlier. To uphold the dignity of his true nature.

He could not be like the heretics of the martial world. His conduct and words had to be different. His status required him to always uphold the prestige of Ipwang Fortress. He could not disgrace his many predecessors.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

But Jeong Yeon-shin's position was somewhat detached from that of a noble lineage. Even now, as he stood silently surrounded by hundreds of high-level martial artists, it was evident.

Their expressions showed bewilderment.

None of them appeared to accept his words.

None of them failed to understand the meaning behind Jeong Yeon-shin’s poetic verse, that this place and the outside world were different. And yet, their faces seemed to ask: Why does that matter?

That was the response written across each of their faces at this moment. None of them bothered to hide it.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly nodded and spoke.

"I'm saying I will take action."

“...I do not understand. Our city has no connection to your world."

A figure stepped forward. Befitting the massive bow strapped to her back, she was a towering individual.

She looked directly at Jeong Yeon-shin, her eyes gleaming with the glow of light-green inner force.

"Your grandfather had his own reasons for what he did. Of course, he also committed acts we could not easily forgive, but he never questioned the very foundation of our existence. Your words and actions are nothing more than savagery."

Jeong Yeon-shin asked, his voice low, and she nodded.

"We each have our own principles. We fulfill our respective duties and protect the lands to which we belong. For you, that means your nation and its citizens. For us, that means this Celestial Tree."

"Our worlds are so fundamentally different, and yet you know nothing. Naturally, you have no right to interfere in the affairs of our clan."

The noble warrior with the great bow on her back finished her words in a composed manner.

Then, several others began to support her statement. It was not an aggressive outburst, but rather a layered, harmonious echo, like an overlapping melody.

"Do not cross the line any further."

"Your words have failed to convince us."

"No matter how great a nation's sword may be, you cannot withstand the Four Great Guardians of the Celestial Clan alone...."

"There is no need to apologize. Mistakes born from ignorance are like puddles in the twilight. Anyone can step into them without realizing it, but at least your sword remains in its sheath—for now."

Each of their voices carried a faint rhythm, an almost melodic cadence. Even the refined scholars of Hangzhou, who prided themselves on their poetry, could not match them.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled the boy who had spoken to him so openly, hiding nothing. It made his stance toward the village elder, Jong-yeon, all the more respectful.

"Cheonhwa! So you've become the Divine Sword Sect Master? How did you convince the Emperor to let you hold the Transcendent Sword with that temper of yours...?"

A youthful voice descended alongside golden light.

Right in front of Jeong Yeon-shin.

The brilliant glow surged, illuminating the surroundings as it coalesced into the form of a man.

A young man clad entirely in gold.

A ripple of murmurs spread around them, repeating the name Geumbyeokja like a wave.

"Huh? You're not Shin Cheonhwa."

The young man, upon seeing Jeong Yeon-shin, leaned back sharply. His expression showed obvious surprise.

"Guardian, that is..."

The noble warrior who had earlier declared that Jeong Yeon-shin had no right to speak hesitated before responding to the youth. The voice she used was the characteristic transmission of the Noble Clan, synchronized with the wind.

Jeong Yeon-shin had already guessed the identity of the intruder. More precisely, he knew what kind of person Geumbyeokja was. He had learned from Elder Jong-yeon.

One of the four pillars of the Celestial Tree.

A supreme martial artist who had attained great enlightenment through the teachings of Sambong Zhenren.

The latent thunderous energy coursing through Geumbyeokja’s body pricked at Jeong Yeon-shin’s skin like tiny needles. It felt as if an invisible domain had unfolded around him.

Mysterious beyond reason.

For some inexplicable reason, an instinctive realization struck him—within Geumbyeokja’s range, he would not be able to freely wield metal.

His sword path would warp and distort beyond his control.

A profound insight from his Upper Dantian.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s overwhelming swordsmanship alone might have been enough to weaken even the most formidable foes. It was no wonder that this ancient monster, who had protected the World Tree for countless years, exuded such immense presence.

Of course, from Geumbyeokja’s perspective, Jeong Yeon-shin must have seemed like nothing more than an upstart who had suddenly emerged.

I’ll seal off my Thunderclap Island Ridge Form. Against a technique like Supreme Thunder, I’ll need to counter it with a mixture of flowing energy techniques, close-combat arts, and internal movement methods...

The moment Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his hand from Ye-roe’s hilt, Geumbyeokja suddenly smacked his forehead.

"Ah! The grandson of the Nightmare!"

"Nightmare?" Jeong Yeon-shin muttered.

"They’re all right! Every single word they said is true! What right does a mortal have to lecture us?" Geumbyeokja suddenly pointed at him.

"You can’t do this here! If you keep this up, you’re going to regret it so much when you grow older that you won’t have a blanket left to cover yourself with! With your level of talent, you might just become an absolute master of leg techniques...!"

"You people," Jeong Yeon-shin interrupted. As if layering his own will over the image of the legendary orator wielding a fan like a divine dragon, he channeled the spirit of the greatest speaker in the land.

At that moment, a profound aura surged from within him, carrying his voice like an unshakable decree.

"You have planted the World Tree at the very heart of this nation."

With a single step forward, the distance between him and Geumbyeokja narrowed. Even as he felt the oppressive force of the thunderous domain crackling over his entire body, he continued speaking, unperturbed.

"You have long used the imperial army, Ipwang Fortress, and the Nine Great Schools as natural barriers against the invaders who covet the famed fruits of the World Tree—whether they be heretics, foreign forces, or demons."

"Hm?" Geumbyeokja hummed in curiosity.

"Even the garments you wear are made from the empire’s finest fabrics," Jeong Yeon-shin continued. "The luster and texture... I’ve seen them before in the Forbidden City. The nobility of Beijing wears them. Easy to wash, immune to blades—silken garments woven with heavenly silk that never fades, even after countless years."

"Is that so?" Geumbyeokja raised his arm, his sleeves glistening golden under the light.

"But that’s not all," Jeong Yeon-shin pressed on. "The stone tile houses clustered here were built by the iron craftsmen of this land. The brushes and inkstones you use, the dishes you eat from, even the dried provisions that sustain your warriors—you cannot produce them here. You refuse to rear livestock, claiming it drains the earth’s vitality. But you must know—anything funded by the state inevitably falls under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Censors and Ipwang Fortress."

A hush fell over the surroundings.

Only the whispering of leaves, swaying in the wind they themselves stirred, broke the silence.

Even as he spoke, Jeong Yeon-shin was rotating his internal energy’s nine golden wheels within his body, amplifying the resonance of his words.

"This city has prospered by reaping the benefits of the nation’s blood and toil, and yet... is there some reason I do not know? Have you fulfilled a duty of tribute in exchange for maintaining this lofty existence? Or perhaps, in secret, you have given back to the outside world—sending forth warriors to strengthen the empire?"

"Hmm...?" Geumbyeokja murmured blankly.

The noble figures of the World Tree clan remained silent.

"You have dismissed the sacrifices and strength that protect this land as matters of another world," Jeong Yeon-shin declared. "You have done nothing to aid the nation, yet you continue to enjoy the privileges of a land safeguarded by others’ sweat and blood. I have seen many such people in the martial world—and they are called heretics."

Then, in a quiet voice, he asked,

"Are you any different?"

The silence deepened.

The emerald-hued motes of light drifted in the air, gently illuminating the eerie stillness. And then, out of the corner of Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision, a golden spark burst forth.

Geumbyeokja was suddenly standing beside him.

He straightened his posture, arms crossed, looking as if he had been at Jeong Yeon-shin’s side from the very beginning.

There was no need to declare alliances—it had already happened.

Across the faces of the World Tree warriors who had encircled them, a wave of stunned disbelief spread like ripples in a pond. Their unshakable composure, as ancient as old trees, had cracked in an instant.

Jeong Yeon-shin, too, was momentarily taken aback, but he chose not to reveal his surprise. Instead, he slowly raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together into a sword seal.

"I’ve spoken long enough," he said.

Geumbyeokja’s expression turned serious.

"No, no, you haven’t. Keep going."

"...This is a technique known as Heaven’s Thunder. Out of respect for my master’s homeland, I will declare its range in advance. It can pierce three leagues in a single strike."

Geumbyeokja, who had been encouraging him, let out a dumbfounded exclamation.

"I need to see the true essence of the World Tree with my own eyes."

In an instant, Jeong Yeon-shin’s figure twisted violently in place, as if a great beast had slashed through the air, leaving only a mirage in his wake.

The ground split open in a perfect line, as if the very fabric of reality had been torn apart.

A radiant beam of light streaked forward, carving its way through the city in the blink of an eye.

A deafening explosion erupted as the beam collided with the grandest structure in the city.

The Elder’s Hall of the World Tree Clan.

The place where the true body of the World Tree resided.