Chapter 500: Chapter 500

The winter sunlight was as fleeting as a martial artist’s lifespan.

The dazzling sunset, which had stretched across the sky, had already been swallowed beyond the distant horizon.

The sun had left no trace, and under the night sky, which slowly darkened in its place, the breaths of four people rose in white puffs. The air was chilling.

Time, both long and short, had passed.

The spot where the Bloodflame Cult Leader had stood.

The ground was scorched black, and patches of white frost were scattered across it.

Not even fragments of his corpse remained.

It was the consequence of facing both the Triune Incineration and Ice Arts of supreme masters in succession. Hahoe Wi-jin, Yun So-yu, and Cheon So-so had struck. The Divine Sword Sect of Ipwang Fortress never left lingering threats.

They had fought a great battle. They were no longer at their peak.

“This should be enough.”

Cheon So-so spoke first.

Hahoe Wi-jin interrupted her.

“No bloodfiend could regenerate from this. We froze, shattered, and melted even the smallest droplets of his blood with divine techniques. Even if he inherited the martial legacy of his predecessors, he was not the former Bloodflame Cult Leader himself. There is nothing more to fear.”

Cheon So-so answered briefly, turning her head to the side.

A short distance from the three of them stood Jin Myeong-jo, his posture upright and rigid. He was the man who would soon serve Seomye.

It was said that the Acting Leader of the Divine Sword Sect had personally appointed him.

The kitchen of the Divine Sword Pavilion, where Ipwang’s Divine Spear had once resided, had been rendered unusable in recent times. Cheon So-so had also hoped that Ak Su-rim would take that position instead. At the very least, she did not want Jin Myeong-jo.

“Let’s go. We’re in a hurry.”

She spoke. It was a reasonable urgency.

The atmosphere surrounding Yangyang had been uneasy of late. Following the Emperor’s death and a poor harvest, the supply of goods had been severed, and no merchant guild dared to open their storehouses.

Even the bureaucrats who had once served as the city’s eyes and ears had grown silent.

A great current was shifting.

Anyone would have been able to sense it.

The entire world was holding its breath, and the Lords needed to return quickly and secure themselves.

There were even rumors that Yeoryeongju was plotting the “Great Rebellion Against Heaven.” If those rumors were true, then the situation in Ipwang Fortress was far more precarious than they had feared.

Yet at this moment, the Vice Captain of the Divine Sword Unit paid little attention to the internal and external injuries of her comrades. Instead, she only gazed into the distance, her murky eyes pooling like thick, congealed blood.

The Seventh Apostle of the Bloodflame Cult was there.

She sat languidly on a crimson imperial robe. She had single-handedly undone the acupoint sealing of the slain Bloodflame Cult Leader.

It suited her claim of calling herself the True Blood Cult Leader. Strands of hair cascaded over the back of her hand, revealing the composed air of an absolute martial master.

Her lips moved slowly. The one remaining eye in her face, transparent and crimson, settled on Jin Myeong-jo. Her gaze was as if she were looking at an insignificant insect.

“You, mongrel blood. How did you find me?”

Jin Myeong-jo, who had been silently staring at the Seventh Apostle, slowly opened his mouth.

“I am Jin Myeong-jo, Lord of Blood Arts. Did the Lord of the Fortress not bestow upon you the fragment of the Moonlight Divine Qi? That supreme Yin energy. We have tracked that familiar presence here.”

“...Your perception is quite impressive. Fine, thanks. Now get lost.”

She sat cross-legged on the broad imperial robe as she spoke. She looked as if she intended to begin meditative breathing immediately. However, Jin Myeong-jo did not move from his spot.

The Seventh Apostle’s pale eyelids twitched upward.

“Do you intend to act as a guardian beyond your station? If you don’t disappear right now, you’ll regret it. Your eyeballs will be the first to go.”

Her voice was smooth, yet the threat was clear.

Jin Myeong-jo shook his head.

“If we part ways here, you will be the one to regret it.”

At that moment, the dust clinging to the Apostle’s pitch-black blindfold scattered like a lie, and her one blood-red eye glowed a muted shade of gray.

Beneath the hem of her crimson trousers, her exposed ankle began emitting the erratic energy wave unique to the Bloodflame Cult’s body-preserving techniques.

A sign of an impending attack.

Despite her severe internal injuries, she was revealing her transcendent nature.

Meanwhile, the Lords of the Blood Arts watched the confrontation from a short distance.

Cheon So-so and Yun So-yu had readied themselves to intervene with expressionless faces, while Hahoe Wi-jin furrowed his brow deeply.

“This is an impossible mission. How are we supposed to persuade someone like her to return to the Fortress? Even if she had once come as a guest, it doesn’t make sense. That thing... she’s nothing less than another Bloodflame Cult Leader now. A walking natural disaster. Even if she has only been targeting the branches of the Bloodflame Cult instead of harming civilians, how can anyone reason with that kind of madness?”

His deep voice sought agreement from his comrades.

At that moment, Yun So-yu, the Commander of the Commandment Unit, who had quietly adjusted the grip on her sword hilt, spoke.

“If negotiations fail and even the Lord of Blood Arts is gravely wounded, there’s no telling how the Acting Leader will react. With his temperament, Yangyang could fall into complete turmoil before the grand conflict even begins.”

It was rare for her to speak at such length. Hahoe Wi-jin nodded gravely.

“Internal and external calamities all at once. I don’t know if it’s worth provoking her at a time . We’re already short-handed, so at the very least, we need to bring that sinister Blood Arts Lord back in one piece...”

The air nearby trembled violently.

The Seventh Apostle had unleashed a semi-transparent shockwave toward Jin Myeong-jo. Clearly, the conversation had not gone well.

Jin Myeong-jo remained still as his jet-black hair whipped violently in the wind, silently enduring the storm.

Hahoe Wi-jin immediately crouched low, his voice bursting out in frustration.

“I just don’t understand! Why does the Acting Leader hold that bastard in such high regard?! I still don’t know if appointing him as Vice Captain was the right decision!”

“It’s not about assessment. It’s about respect.”

Cheon So-so shook her head. At some point, a faint mist of frost had begun swirling between her fingers.

“From temperament alone, he is the one Seomye wants to resemble the most...”

Suddenly, her words were cut off. The blood energy that had been raking across the ground disappeared without a trace.

“Let’s go. Yangyang, was it?”

The Seventh Apostle took the lead.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

At some point, she had stepped down from the imperial robe. The scarlet pureblooded martial garment behind her rustled smoothly as she moved. The Bloodflame Cult’s movement techniques were indeed among the best in the martial world.

“Myeong-jo? You breathe in a very refined way. I can’t sense any energy from your breath at all. I’ll be learning from you a little.”

The Seventh Apostle said.

She was to be accepted into the Fortress as a guest of the Divine Sword Sect.

The decision made by the Acting Leader of the Divine Sword Sect had come to fruition. In an era of turbulence and chaos, this was, according to the words of the Grand Commander, the heaviest and most crucial of all missions.

As the Lords of Blood Arts remained silent, the Seventh Apostle’s voice continued in a lazy murmur.

“If you’re the Vice Captain of the Divine Sword Unit, shouldn’t you always be at the Leader’s side? You’ve achieved more than any of your kin. What mongrel blood? You’re already better than any of the previous Cult Leaders.”

Jin Myeong-jo’s face hardened like a sculpture. Then, with a flick of his hand, a scroll shot out from his sleeve and fell into Cheon So-so’s grasp.

Hahoe Wi-jin, who had stepped closer to her, glanced down at the scroll. It was a sealed letter, with the words "For Lord Jeong’s Eyes Only" engraved upon it in grand strokes, like the body of a coiled dragon.

“Why is this letter so thick?”

Jin Myeong-jo answered curtly.

“That should lighten my role a little.”

“I should have known. You’re practically a bat, shirking duties from the start... And what exactly is in this letter?”

“The Secret Formula of the Demon Sword.”

A contingency plan prepared by the Lord of Blood Arts in a desperate moment.

A person’s true intentions were difficult to convey through mere words. A letter pleading for resignation had been weighed with a treasure beyond price.

If Jeong Yeon-shin had received it, no matter how long it took, he would undoubtedly create his own Formless Sword from the formula within.

“My messenger bird has gone to handle another task, so Lord Cheon, please deliver this to the Acting Leader.”

An overwhelming declaration.

The Lords of the Blood Arts did not know the exact contents of the letter.

They only now began to faintly understand Jeong Yeon-shin’s decision.

At last, Hahoe Wi-jin’s lips pressed shut.

Jin Myeong-jo, his face as cold as a corpse, took a step forward. Returning to the Origin. There was no force in his movement, and the dust of the wasteland swirled faintly beneath his feet before dissipating like smoke.

At the spot where the Bloodflame Cult Leader’s body had been, a sudden gust of wind rose and was drawn into the black leather shoes of the Lord of Blood Arts.

A true Vice Captain of the Divine Sword Unit.

The city of the noble clans was unusually lively.

In a place where massive tree trunks rose like fortress walls, long-eared children sat atop the branches, kicking their feet playfully, while the guards stationed throughout the trees had an uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor.

This was the heart of the Heavenly Tree.

These were not the indifferent individuals who barely acknowledged the royal Zhou clan even when they personally came to deliver supplies. Now and then, they whispered names among themselves.

“This is only a temporary measure.”

It was the ruined pavilion of the Council of Clan Elders.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke briefly but did not lower his guard.

The forces gathered here were far from ordinary. The Four Great Guardians of the Heavenly Tree. He had only encountered three so far, yet each one was an extraordinary master.

If this city turned hostile, survival would be near impossible.

In his vision were the three people seated with him.

The Dragon Sword Duke, Geumbyeokja, and Chi Cheon-gung Baek. Each had mastered a martial art so deep that it was impossible to fathom. Who could withstand the combined assault of these three absolute masters? Only the Lord of Ipwang Fortress himself.

“Does the tea not suit your taste?”

A woman’s voice came from behind him.

The First Elder of the Clan had dismissed her subordinates and was now pacing around the tea table, sometimes handing out cloth, sometimes reheating the tea.

She had even realigned the leg Jeong Yeon-shin had previously broken.

She had used the immense true energy within her body as a splint to hold the fractured bone in place. The torn meridians must have been causing excruciating pain, yet she did not so much as pause.

And Jeong Yeon-shin had learned many things.

Things difficult to believe. These were not the same people who once refused to share any information.

Even the secret concerning the Lord of Ipwang Fortress was astonishing.

Whenever she spent an extended period outside, she always came here first and stayed for a long time before returning to the Fortress. This visit was no different.

But the reason why—that was something they would not share.

Geumbyeokja had nearly spilled everything in excitement, but the Dragon Sword Duke had swiftly shut him down. Jeong Yeon-shin did not press further. It was something the Lord of Ipwang Fortress would have to explain herself when she deemed it necessary.

He finally opened his mouth.

“When will my master return?”

“She should be just about done. Whenever she goes out, she takes a long time to wash up afterward. Meditative breathing, cleansing, that sort of thing... She can’t achieve unity with the Heavenly Tree if she brings in outside filth.”

Then he tilted his head slightly.

“But even so, isn’t this taking too long? Didn’t Gunreung die three years ago? How many years has it been now? She’s going to grow roots at this rate. Let’s go look for her.”

Perhaps they had simply grown used to Geumbyeokja’s rambling nonsense.

Jeong Yeon-shin stared at him in silence. Three years since the death of Prince Gunreung—that would have been the time when he was already buried in a grave.

If he could not escape the fate he was born with, then that was exactly what would happen.

His thoughts darkened.

The Dragon Sword Duke spoke slowly.

“You called it the Nirvana ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Wheel Technique?”

“You say it’s temporary?”

“Energy is something that depletes, and the absorbing force of the Heavenly Tree is as deep as an abyss. Unless I remain in this city, I will soon return to my original, starved state.”

“No human strength could resolve this. My master must have known that as well.”

Jeong Yeon-shin concluded quietly.

And inwardly, he was concerned.

At a time when unrest was brewing across the world, he had hoped to gain at least a little aid from this clan.

Some time ago, a letter had arrived from the Grand Commandant’s Office detailing the stirrings of the Thirteen Heavens.

It had emphasized the sheer magnitude of their movement.

‘If even two of the Four Great Guardians could spare a moment to watch over Yangyang...’

That would relieve some of the concerns about the main stronghold.

But the world was never so simple. Even now, the expression of the First Elder, who had been pouring tea, had hardened.

“If it’s a temporary measure, then how long will it last...?”

“It will not hold beyond three days. After that, I will have to reinfuse it with true energy.”

“Even that is not a fundamental solution. The Heavenly Tree requires a certain amount of energy to function properly, and my actions are merely an artificial way to induce a sense of fullness.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke plainly, stating the facts without embellishment.

The Four Great Guardians could momentarily step away, but that did not mean the entire clan was now free.

The distance between this place and Yangyang was a separate matter, and it was difficult to say that the noble clans were truly liberated.

This was not something a mere human could accomplish.

For the first time, Jeong Yeon-shin felt a wall before him. Unless figures such as Bodhidharma, Zhang Sanfeng, and the First Heavenly Demon gathered together for discourse, no solution could be found.

The First Elder set his teacup down. The Dragon Sword Duke nodded silently, while Chi Cheon-gung Baek merely stared at Jeong Yeon-shin with an unreadable expression.

Only Geumbyeokja remained cheerful.

“Why? I can finally catch my breath, this is great. Might as well dry some mulberry leaves while I’m at it. Want one? Back in the day, Gunreung set fire to one and smoked the fumes—it was absolutely—”

“Yes, you caught your breath. That much is truly appreciated. But not a single person in this clan should act ungrateful.”

The First Elder’s voice was firm. It was the voice of someone rudely awakened from a pleasant dream.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly lowered his gaze.

Perhaps it was because he had spent far more years in Jeong Family Manor, but giving up on expectations was not difficult.

If talent alone could solve everything, then his journey through the martial world would not have been marred by loss.

‘Whatever Master’s true purpose was... I will have to go to Yangyang alone.’

A gentle hand rested on the back of his neck.

A touch so warm it almost burned.

An array of sensations swept over him like a dream—

The fine hairs at the nape of his neck were lightly pressed down, the sense of time on his skin blurred like a thick blanket muffling the world, and from his neck downward, a breeze swept over him like dandelion petals fluttering in the wind.

He didn’t need to turn around to know.

The Lord of Ipwang Fortress was here.

Jeong Yeon-shin did not speak. He did not want to.

A crystalline voice pierced through his ears and slowly dissipated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a golden bracelet.

It must have been something his master had brought back. The engravings were clumsy, as if carved by a child’s hand. The leaf patterns wavered and melted into the air.

At that moment, his vision changed.

A sound echoed within his head.

He saw the back of a young man wearing a purple robe.

It was the same as when he had once consumed a fragment of the Heavenly Tree.

At this moment, Jeong Yeon-shin was seeing himself through the Lord of Ipwang Fortress’s body.

The eyes of those around them, filled with shock at the sudden action, were now focused entirely on him.

A sinking into the abyss.

His senses had changed.

Jeong Yeon-shin saw something inside his own body through the Lord of Ipwang Fortress’s eyes.

Deep within his heart, there was a speck of light, standing in the form of the Songmun High Sword of the Wudang Sect.

And strangely enough, his nose caught the faint scent of metal, something unique to blades.

He recognized it immediately.

The Three Pure Qi Technique given to him by Amcheonje.

Then, the Lord of Ipwang Fortress straightened her posture.

A sharp wind rose, dragging along the hem of her green robes like the string of a palace bow, cutting through the wooden floor beneath the table.

With a thud, the table collapsed like an altar.

Standing at the center, she guided her disciple forward.

By now, the golden bracelet had stopped melting into the air and was instead suspended in midair, like a droplet of water frozen in place.

The Lord of Ipwang Fortress reached out with her long fingers and brushed against it.

In that fleeting moment, her golden-dusted fingertips touched Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder.

She began to trace over the blackened character "荒"—adding a stroke in gold.

Her fingers were unbelievably soft.

Time stretched out endlessly as the golden strokes completed, filling the broad script across his shoulders.

At some point, Jeong Yeon-shin had returned to his own body.

They had merged their bodies and intertwined their senses.

There was no need for words of greeting.

The deep green eyes of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress simply gazed at him.

“I will entrust two to you.”

It was a call to war.