Chapter 501: Chapter 501

— The journey has been long.

That was the Lord of Ipwang Fortress’s final remark.

Jeong Yeon-shin stepped out of the Elders’ Hall, leaving his master behind at the heart of the Heavenly Tree.

As Geumbyeokja had said, it seemed that the Lord of Ipwang Fortress needed to remain there for some kind of recuperation.

Even now, he knew so little about his master.

What exactly was her connection to the Heavenly Tree? Why did she have to stay here? Did she need to restore some of her energy?

Why could he still sense her breath from such a distance?

The greatest transcendent in all of the martial world—The Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

Her internal energy and breathing technique were the deepest under the heavens. Ordinarily, one wouldn't be able to perceive her breath unless they were right beside her—but this time, that wasn’t the case.

Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his gaze slightly, lost in thought.

Why wouldn’t she share more personal words with him?

Even with the golden script engraved upon his shoulders, did he still lack some form of qualification?

“Me, right? You’re taking me with you, right? Take me out for a walk!”

A whirring hum distorted the space before his eyes.

It was Geumbyeokja, floating without emitting the slightest energy, blocking his path.

Now, only the Lord of Ipwang Fortress and the First Elder remained inside the Elders’ Hall. The Three Guardians of the Heavenly Tree were following behind Jeong Yeon-shin as he moved forward.

He ignored Geumbyeokja and continued walking, speaking as he passed.

“Where has the Lord of Northern Radiance Fist gone?”

It was Chi Cheon-gung Baek who answered beside him.

Perhaps it was because she had just encountered the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

The presence of this supreme martial master, whose spirit was unified with her internal energy, carried a razor-sharp air.

With every step she took alongside Jeong Yeon-shin, the ends of her hair brushed against the great bow slung across her back like the edge of a blade.

Jeong Yeon-shin still didn’t understand the relationship between her and the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

Why did they resemble each other? Why were they not on good terms?

These were personal matters, things he wouldn’t learn unless they told him first.

Chi Cheon-gung Baek’s flat, emotionless voice continued.

“Northern Radiance’s mind is not intact. And so are his actions. He frequently wanders beyond the tree. That’s why your master said she would only grant you two. Because, in reality, we only have three Guardians left.”

Jeong Yeon-shin came to an abrupt halt, his brow lifting slightly.

“Are you saying he has lost his mind?”

“He took the most pride in our clan among all of us. Until he dueled with Yong Hui-myeong.”

At Chi Cheon-gung Baek’s calm response, Jeong Yeon-shin immediately countered.

“Why did the Clan Lord...”

“Hui-myeong? Ah, he really was great at sword dancing.”

Geumbyeokja suddenly interjected, nodding enthusiastically to himself.

“All ten thousand of his moves were like a dance. Oh, it was really something. But when I complimented him, he just stared at me like I was ridiculous. Didn’t even want to have a drink with me.”

What a humble friend.

That was how Geumbyeokja ended his words.

Jeong Yeon-shin understood.

It meant the duel had been utterly one-sided.

The Lord of the Divine Sword Corps, Yong Hui-myeong, had completely dominated his opponent, leading the Lord of Northern Radiance Fist to fall into a mental breakdown.

‘This is troublesome.’

Jeong Yeon-shin felt his mind clouding over.

He pressed both hands together in a gesture of respect toward the Guardians.

These were people he might have to coordinate with soon.

Right now, he needed to win their favor as much as possible.

Cleaning up the aftermath came first.

“As the successor, I apologize in his place. My predecessor acted dishonorably, but he is fundamentally a generous and magnanimous person. Furthermore, under my command, the Divine Sword Corps will not be the same...”

The Three Guardians did not respond.

They were used to this.

The sins of the Sword Sect and the burdens of past Lords of the Divine Sword Corps were now his to carry.

He had expected this.

If Jeong Family’s Seomye had not existed in Ipwang Fortress, the entire ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) world would have turned against them.

Silently, Jeong Yeon-shin marveled at his master, the Grand Chancellor, Emperor Gunreung, and the eunuch Myeongye’s insight in entrusting him with this role.

Then, he quietly asked.

“May I ask something?”

“Sure, ask whatever you want—just not that earlier topic. But you are taking me with you on this trip, right?”

“Where exactly is this city located?”

He asked a crucial question.

When he had traveled with the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, the sense of distance had disappeared.

The path had led through one of the most mysterious locations in the martial world.

Even the feeling of walking through formations had been strange.

Most of all, he had always focused his entire senses on his master.

The greatest martial artist alive, whose very breath embodied the pinnacle of martial arts.

Every time he was with her, Jeong Yeon-shin found himself in a state of selflessness.

His cognitive awareness had not been intact.

“Where is this place? Hm... is it the last village at the end of the northern sea? No, wait, we fled south as well, didn’t we? My father used to say that. Oh, right, if you want to know how high above the ground we are—”

Geumbyeokja floated aimlessly through the air, lacing his fingers behind his head as he mumbled.

He seemed to be talking about some unknown town, but somehow, it didn’t sound like it was in Ming territory.

Just then, the Dragon Sword Duke cut in, interrupting Geumbyeokja’s nonsense.

“Jiangsu Province. I do not know the name of the plains.”

Jiangsu Province—the Fish and Rice Land of the East.

A region rich in fertile plains, the easternmost province of the continent.

It was known for being the most abundant grain-producing area in Ming.

The Heavenly Tree clan had concealed itself within a grand formation, taking root in the richest land in the nation.

But that wasn’t why Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened.

Jiangsu Province was directly above Zhejiang Province—where Hangzhou was located.

He had already experienced it before.

It took three full days to travel from Yangyang to Hangzhou.

Even if he traveled directly west from here, it would take just as long.

Jeong Yeon-shin had encountered a serious problem.

Something deeply practical.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly felt a shadow creeping over his shoulders.

The interior of the Heavenly Tree was always dim.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The flickering green light illuminated the surroundings sporadically before vanishing again. It reminded him of the burden carried by the Lord of the Divine Sword Corps, a weight he had been contemplating earlier.

Then, realization struck him.

When Yong Hui-myeong had issued the order to assemble the division leaders, how precisely had he calculated the timing of each letter’s delivery and the distances between the seventeen scattered black-clad forces?

That level of precision was impossible for a mere seventeen-year-old novice to achieve.

Seomye of the Jeong Clan was not some strategic prodigy defying his age—he was simply an inferior being cursed with an overdeveloped Baihui acupoint by sheer misfortune.

His lips parted slightly.

A realization flashed through his mind.

The fragment of the Three Pure Ones Technique embedded in his body, which the Lord of Ipwang Fortress had shown him through her own eyes.

The Heavenly Tree, towering above all, gazing down upon the world.

Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his eyes slightly.

Monkeys rely on their minds because their bodies are slow.

For someone like him—just another mayfly in the grand scheme of things, like So Cheonmujuk—there had to be a different way.

At that moment, Geumbyeokja was saying something beside him, but Jeong Yeon-shin ignored him.

Instead, he focused entirely on picturing something in his mind.

He had reached a new stage where a certain kind of training was now necessary.

His left hand, gripping his sword hilt, suddenly overlapped with the phantom image of the left hand of the greatest heretical swordsman.

A beggar lay sprawled at the edge of a cliff.

She was clad in patched-up rags, the stitches barely holding the fabric together.

Even the strings were insufficient, leaving her arms bare.

Propping herself up on her dust-covered elbow, she was entirely absorbed in writing with a brush.

A report unfolded beneath her hand:

[Yongdu Faction, Yangyang Branch Report.

Entries recorded in the order of North, East, South, West relative to Ipwang Fortress.

I. Northern Xianghe Region.

― Supplementary Report. Confirmed annihilation of the Radiant Sword Unit.

― Ma Guang-ik's forces have marched north. Even if successful, they will not recover more than half of their lost strength.

― Ma Guang-ik’s troops are expected to clash with the Twin Kings under the command of the Myriad Streams Bandit Lord.

II. Eastern Guangdao Gorge Region.

― Approximately five hundred mounted warriors spotted, accompanied by ominous clouds, charging toward Ipwang Fortress.

― The route includes the Gongsun Clan, the Shandong Ega Sect, and the Namgung Clan.

― Believed to be the Green Forest Marauders. The leader is the Supreme Chief.

― Two human heads hang from his waist, but due to the strange mist, their identities cannot be verified.

III. Southern Hwanran Plains.

― The whereabouts of the newly enthroned Bloodflame Cult Leader remain unknown.

― Several large-scale blood ghoul armies have suddenly ceased movement.

― Three elite forces of Ipwang Fortress have appeared: Bo-blood Unit, Seonmok Order, and Cheonrim Unit.

― No direct confrontation. The Bloodflame Cult forces have been neutralized.

IV. Western Shaanxi Region.

― Mount Hua Sect has sealed its gates.

― An eerie calm before the storm.

― The Destructive Sword Sect is making no moves as an organization.

― Rumors claim their Sect Leader has once again broken from closed-door training.

― King of the Imperial Palace confirmed absent.

― Disciples of the Hellgate Sect, trained in the Forbidden Art of the Jeong Family’s Eastern Gong, are positioning themselves on the city walls in defensive formation.

― Ipwang Sin Clan, Ipwang Hahoe Clan, Ipwang Yu Clan, and Ipwang Woon Clan martial artists are all assembling.

― The White Kirin, Namgung Hwaseon, has been standing at the gates of Ipwang Fortress, performing the “Ultimate Kirin Ceremony” for three days straight.

― She has openly declared herself a warrior under the Lord of the Divine Sword Corps.

― Today, White Kirin and the Supreme Guardian of the Wulong Sect clashed.

― Namgung Hwaseon suffered a penetrating wound on her left flank from the Wulong Sect’s Bullet Qi Palm Technique.

― The Supreme Guardian, Hunma, lost his left hand to the Ultimate Kirin Sword.

― Both sides have returned to a standoff.]

It was a large piece of parchment.

The young beggar, occasionally glancing down at the cliff below, continued moving her brush effortlessly, filling the page with an overwhelming amount of text.

Her handwriting was as crooked as worms crawling across the page, yet she showed no hesitation.

The beggar stretched while still lying flat on the ground, propping herself up only with her navel, arching her back in a peculiar pose.

Despite the filth covering her body, not a single speck of dust touched the report scroll she had written.

"This is insane. Did I really write all of this by myself?"

Her voice was slightly hoarse.

Hearing her mutter, complaining that her arms were about to fall off, the old beggar beside her, who had been dictating what to write, clicked his tongue.

He was none other than Fengzhu Gai, an elder of the Beggars' Sect, on par with Joo Gwang-shin-gai, the sect master himself.

In the martial world, he was known as Wind Pillar Beggar (Fengzhu Gai).

"What a mess you've made. It doesn't even look like earthworms have crawled across the page."

"You're expecting too much, old man. Just the fact that a beggar can write is already impressive."

"Nonsense, girl! You're no ordinary beggar!"

Fengzhu Gai stood up, glaring at the woman before him.

But his gaze was not entirely cold.

It was like the twilight light settling over a winter sky—strict yet warm.

That was how the elders regarded the pillars of their sect.

A name respected by countless martial artists.

The winds stirred by his movement were often compared to the very pillars holding up the martial world.

The young woman, after staring at the old beggar for a moment, scratched her oily short hair with a rough motion.

The three gourds hanging from her waist swayed weakly as she moved.

"Of course, I'm an ordinary beggar. If anyone is more ordinary than me, let them come forward."

"A martial artist, speaking of ordinariness?! With that kind of attitude, how can you ever be a pillar of the greatest sect in the world?!"

"Because I lack that responsibility, I am ordinary."

"What did you just say?"

"It's a time of famine and chaos. My priority is making sure I eat well. I've got my secret martial techniques, so I’ll do whatever brings me peace—stash some food away, and if anyone gets in my way, I'll punch them.

The ones who have power and don't use it—

Those are the extraordinary ones, the ones worthy of respect."

Her voice was lazy, as if she wasn't fully present in the conversation.

She seemed to be wandering through a dream, moving idly without properly planting her feet on the ground.

The smudges of soot on her cheeks blended with the dusky evening light.

"Your jokes go too far! Do not disrespect the elders!"

"Oh... but that guy’s probably in hell already, right?"

"I’ll send him my regards when I get there."

Fengzhu Gai nearly shouted her name in anger but suddenly hesitated.

For an instant, the old beggar’s martial instincts ignited, striking his mind like a violent spark.

A presence that could distort even memory and perception—

The pinnacle of drunken mastery.

‘Drunken Art, Phantom Steps... The sect of those who walk the moon...!’

It was a fleeting realization.

"Old man, I respect you."

A long leg shot forward.

Fengzhu Gai's abdomen was pierced clean through.

His spine shattered with a grotesque crunch, and a fountain of blood erupted into the air.

Balancing on a single foot, the woman lowered her gaze and muttered softly.

The young beggar, Lord of the Thirteen Heavens, Mong In-wol, spoke as if she had merely stepped in a puddle.

"So that’s the Jeong Family’s Eastern Gong? They really do have martial artists in the Hellgate Sect, huh."

She stood at the edge of a towering cliff.

Fengzhu Gai had failed to perceive the assassin's approach until it was too late.

In the ravine littered with the corpses of martial artists from both Ipwang Fortress and the Beggars' Sect—

A white-clad warrior stood.

A hawk soared from his outstretched hand, taking flight.

Even though he had already died once, his heart began to beat again, as if by force of will alone, just long enough to send a message.

It was a critical moment.

Now that Ipwang Fortress would detect the arrival of a new supreme martial artist, the fortress would mobilize its full strength for defense.

The Imperial Iron Army,

The formations and siege weapons,

The sword formations of the Divine Sword Corps—

Everything had already been prepared in advance to fortify the city against the upcoming war.

A warrior of great skill was difficult to kill.

"Yes... You were right."

Fengzhu Gai spat blood as he spoke.

His breath was ragged, but a wry smile formed on his lips.

At that moment, the white-clad martial artist, whose death had already been confirmed, finally drew his last breath.

"That one... was truly extraordinary."

Ma Woong of the Hellgate Sect.

His ultimate martial art was said to be the Eastern Gong of the Jeong Family.

His death marked the beginning of a great war.