Chapter 508: Chapter 508

When faced with an unexpected situation, both masters and novices alike tend to fall silent.

A brief stillness settled over the scene.

The masters of Mong In-wol stood still beneath the glaring downpour of sunlight. At the same time, a clear sloshing sound echoed from the gourds hanging at their waists.

Shinchun Wing Pavilion.

The military stronghold that, alongside Ma Gwang-ik of the Shin Sword Corps, served as the frontline base for Ipwang Fortress.

Since it was the right wing of the Shin Sword Corps, it naturally stood at the far end of the eastern gate.

Thus, it was destined to be the first to face enemies attempting to strike at the fortress from the right.

And now, it had been rendered powerless by Mong In-wol, who had entered with an absolute force under the guise of a beggar.

The nameless disciples of Shinchun Wing lay sprawled across the inner courtyard, having failed in their desperate charge.

Shin Bin-bin, a White-Robed Warrior of Shinchun Wing and older sister to Shin So-bin, was no exception.

However, she alone had forced herself to remain conscious, kneeling on one knee with her head bowed low.

To resist sleep, she had impaled her own left hand with her sword.

The sight of crimson blood dripping silently down the white blade of the Ipwang Sword, from the hardened calluses of her palm, was a testament to her determination.

Thus, the warriors of Shinchun Wing were scattered across the courtyard, forming a human tapestry under Mong In-wol’s dominion.

The same was true for the warriors from other units who had come as reinforcements.

Many had collapsed on the rooftops, unconscious, while others who had landed in the Shinchun Wing training grounds bore crushed ribs, lifeless.

To most martial artists, there was no spectacle more awe-inspiring.

Even if the masters of Mong In-wol had crossed through Shinchun Wing Pavilion as if it were nothing, the scene was undoubtedly a grand feast prepared by Yeo Ryeong.

And yet, an eerie atmosphere lingered.

At that moment, the white roofs of Shinchun Wing Pavilion seemed especially bright.

It was because a man, entirely clad in gold, was reflecting all the winter sunlight.

And his snoring was unnaturally loud.

“...Should we just go around? They say even dogs don’t bother people when they’re taking a nap.”

The young man who had mistakenly thought Mong In-wol was part of the Beggar’s Sect two decades ago—Demonic Illusion Divine Slayer, Zhao Quan-il—whispered.

His voice was fainter than most sound transmission techniques.

“I don’t know who he is, but he’s clearly in deep sleep... It doesn’t seem polite to wake him just to ask for directions.”

Zhao Quan-il carefully finished speaking, subtly shifting the mole near the corner of his eye.

Mong In-wol’s Demonic Illusion Divine Slayer.

A man who had once slain a hundred righteous masters in a single day in the distant south, earning infamy.

Like all Mong In-wol masters, he had no distinct wanted poster, as no one had ever clearly recognized his face.

Still, in the martial world of Guangxi, he was counted among the Five Wraiths of Illumination.

His voice, however, betrayed a youthful tone.

The burly man behind Zhao Quan-il pulled out a liquor bottle.

At the same time, a ripple of internal energy spread faintly, like a wave.

—Pathetic. A man who once stood alongside Gwangya Ilmyeol and So Cheonmujuk shouldn’t be this timid.

“...And what about you, Lord of Service? Why are you suddenly speaking through sound transmission?”

The towering man with unusually long legs—Leader Dream Demon, Je Wi-cheol—did not answer Zhao Quan-il’s murmur.

He merely took a leisurely step to the side and lifted the bottle to his lips.

The sound of Samhwa Liquor flowing down his throat with its sweet, honeyed scent had long been a terror in the Guangxi martial world.

Watching him, Zhao Quan-il shuddered and quickly opened his mouth.

“Are you insane? You let me and the disciples handle the fighting all this time, and now you’re preparing to take action? After seeing that?”

—You fool. That’s precisely why I’m preparing.

Mong In-wol’s master, who had been quietly observing the golden figure, slowly clasped her hands behind her back and resumed walking.

Her balance still wavered unsteadily, her gait swaying to avoid disturbing the sleeping man in gold.

It was an oddly considerate gesture.

“Sleep well. I won’t wake you.”

At that moment, the rhythmic snoring of the golden-clad figure faltered, breaking its steady cadence.

As if he had encountered something bewildering in his dreams.

But the masters of Mong In-wol pretended not to hear it.

They continued walking, their whispers as hushed as if they were burying their voices in the air.

“Where do you think that monster came from?”

—The martial world is vast, and the people who live in it come in all forms. In a desert, there are more than a few glimmering stones.

“Earlier, there was an insanely strong energy rising from the south, wasn’t there? Since we know the Fortress Lord and the current Shin Sword Corps leader aren’t here, that must have been Gwangya Ilmyeol, right?”

“I thought the violet-clad ones were all lone warriors who couldn’t mobilize reinforcements?”

—Enough. Hurry your steps.

The Thirteen Heavens’ Mong In-wol.

Unlike other great sects, which were perceived as powerful clans or local warlords, they had no fixed base.

Wherever they stood ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) became their headquarters, and wherever they laid their heads became their resting place.

Their only true domain was the southern regions of the Ming Empire.

Their awareness was sharp, and their perception was vast.

So much so that they instinctively knew to simply pass by the sudden and inexplicable existence before them.

Zhao Quan-il still whispered cautiously.

“...Reinforcements or not, he seems to be on Ipwang Fortress’s side.

Then again, naps are best enjoyed together, aren’t they?”

The scent of liquor lingered in his breath. It was the same Samhwa Liquor he had drunk when they crossed over the eastern walls of Ipwang Fortress.

“As they say, only wicked men wake others from their slumber.

If you have any tact, even if you are awake, you should just pretend to be asleep and get up when everyone else does.”

His words were slurred with just the right amount of drunkenness and lack of reason.

But the other Mong In-wol masters, also steeped in the scent of liquor, silently agreed.

The closed eyelids of the golden-clad figure trembled ever so slightly, as if he were subtly gauging the mood of the unconscious Ipwang Fortress warriors sprawled around him.

As if considering whether Zhao Quan-il’s words made sense.

His head tilted slightly to the side.

At the same time, the murmurs of the passing Mong In-wol masters dispersed like mist.

“Thank goodness. Thank goodness.”

“Honestly, even our Lord didn’t notice in time. If we had fought that, all of us would have died, and only our Lord would have survived.”

Those who had mastered Mong In-wol’s bizarre martial arts—

They were, in essence, monsters themselves.

Naturally, they did not find other abnormal beings to be particularly strange.

In the vast martial world, no matter what kind of techniques, philosophies, thoughts, or personalities one encountered, everything could seem plausible.

And so, that was the end of it.

Mong In-wol’s masters turned their backs completely on the golden youth, their footsteps dissolving into the shadows at the edge of the pavilion.

Into a darkness as deep as the rare white rooftops were bright.

And as the Ipwang Fortress warriors, whether unconscious or already beyond the Three Paths River, lay motionless, the relentless sunlight poured down upon them.

A total of forty-four Mong In-wol masters moved straight through the Shinchun Wing Pavilion, but they did not get much further.

A group stood blocking their way, swords drawn and gleaming brilliantly under the sunlight.

Thirty or so warriors of Ipwang Fortress, clad in a mix of blue and white robes, had intertwined their internal energy flows, creating a powerful surge of martial force.

Azure Heaven Formation: Clear Smoke Expansive Sword Array.

Within the silence, the sound-transmitted voices of the Azure Heaven Division’s warriors rippled faintly.

— A high-level master...! That appears to be Demonic Illusion Divine Slayer, Zhao Quan-il!

— He’s the direct disciple of Mong In-wol’s sect leader. Keep close watch.

— Keep your breathing short and sharpen your senses! All White Robes, fall back and reinforce the array’s energy circulation!

However, the Mong In-wol masters’ focus was entirely elsewhere.

In particular, the younger disciples, including Zhao Quan-il, blatantly turned their heads toward the fortress's main gate.

“They’re resting now. I mean, even if I were a supreme master, it’d be hard to immediately act after witnessing that. But how much longer will this standoff last?”

“No idea. One thing’s for sure—the rumors didn’t do reality justice. That thing is beyond monstrous.”

“My god... to pull off something that insane twice in front of two Lords of the Thirteen Heavens...”

“If he’s really Wasteland’s Annihilation, his eyes must be turned all the way to the back of his head by now. I never want to run into him. Honestly, I hope the fight at the gate just ends it.”

Even as the young warriors continued striding toward the Azure Heaven Division, they spoke freely about Jeong Yeon-shin.

They were clearly relaxed.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Unlike the Army of the Green Forest, which could always replenish its numbers from the old outlaw bands, or the All-Trade Water Fortress, where even the subordinates were absurdly powerful, Mong In-wol was different.

The entire force of the Thirteen Heavens' Mong In-wol was inside Ipwang Fortress.

With such a deployment, no scattered battles could lead to their defeat, and indeed, they had not lost once today.

This time was no different.

As Mong In-wol’s leader wiped the soot from her chin and let out a faint breath, the sword formation’s energy, which had been distorting the air like fractured glass, shattered.

At that exact moment, the Mong In-wol warriors, who had been walking leisurely, suddenly blurred into obscurity.

The warriors of the Azure Heaven Division were sent spinning through the air, crashing headfirst into the ground.

In an instant, the Mong In-wol warriors had closed the distance, their strikes infused with the rich aroma of liquor.

Without a single warrior in black among them, the Azure Heaven Division’s formation was swiftly folded inward.

At the forefront stood Demonic Illusion Divine Slayer, Zhao Quan-il.

“Don’t look at my face. Never look. Just... forget me entirely. Even if I’m facing Wasteland’s Annihilation, just forget I exist...”

No one heard his desperate muttering.

Meanwhile, Mong In-wol’s Leader of the Nine Provinces, Je Wi-cheol, standing beside his sect leader, gazed distantly toward the fortress's main gate, analyzing the current state of Wasteland’s Annihilation.

“A person can’t keep using wide-range ultimate techniques like that indefinitely. There’s always a price. Either his upper dantian is overheating, or he’s burning through an immense amount of vital energy, or his meridians are suffering severe recoil from excessive internal energy circulation.

Or, maybe... he’s just enjoying a drink with some likeminded people in a nice, sunny spot.”

Je Wi-cheol murmured, letting out a breath that was half nonsense, half reality.

He channeled the creeping intoxication upward into his upper dantian.

“Or maybe it’s all of the above.”

Surrendering himself to his intoxication, he found himself pitying the current commander on Ipwang Fortress’s side of the battlefield.

Wasteland’s Annihilation, Jeong Yeon-shin.

His martial prowess and influence were certainly worthy of his reputation.

And yet, he lacked the finishing touch.

Perhaps he had misjudged someone.

In terms of political acumen, he was far below Yeoryeongju.

“To use eccentric talents effectively, you need methods just as eccentric... Wouldn’t you agree?”

Je Wi-cheol glanced sideways at his sect leader.

She gave only a slight nod, without even turning to look.

Her gaze remained locked on the distant inner sanctum of Ipwang Fortress, a vacant look in her eyes.

At the same time, a hazy whisper slipped from her lips.

“Let’s go. He’s there.”

“The root of the Celestial Tree... Yes.”

Je Wi-cheol’s reply was drowned out by an abrupt resonating vibration.

A translucent surge of energy suddenly descended from the sky, sweeping up the drunken warriors like an overwhelming tidal wave—hurling them straight back into Shinchun Wing Pavilion.

Infinite Blooming River—Blazing Current.

The well-packed soil ripped apart, leaving them tumbling helplessly as if struck by a flash flood.

“I... I can’t breathe—!”

“The raging tide under the moonlight is my resting place!”

The energy slammed into them like a cascading wave, its force pushing them back twenty feet in an instant.

Then, suddenly, the figure who had unleashed the rippling energy inverted mid-air and descended into the Shinchun Wing Pavilion.

A black robe billowed behind him, extending like a shadow.

A warrior of Ipwang Fortress’s Black-Robed Unit.

Such was the ever-shifting nature of the battlefield.

Naturally, the remaining Mong In-wol warriors followed, slicing through the air with their footwork.

Their murmured drunken remarks drifted alongside their movements.

From behind them, the swordsmen of the Azure Heaven Division gave chase, their blue and white robes streaking through the battlefield.

But they were irrelevant.

There was no one who could oppose their sect leader.

Mong In-wol ruled the eastern front of Ipwang Fortress without contest.

“The eunuch is back again.”

“At this point, Ma Leader’s stamina is actually kind of impressive.”

“What’s that technique called again? Jeongga Donggong? Heard it’s good for the body...”

“Think it cures hangovers? Let’s stop by his place after visiting the fortress lord.”

By the time their final words faded, they had re-entered the Shinchun Wing Pavilion.

Where, as ever, a golden-clad youth stood at the center, gleaming brilliantly.

At the same time, Ma Leader, Ma Jin was charging straight toward him.

As if he had decided that the one radiating the purest martial aura was the one who needed to be awakened first.

At that moment, a single white swallow flitted above Ma Jin’s head, matching his movement.

Murmuring softly, Je Wi-cheol extended both hands toward Ma Jin’s back.

Seeing this, one of the Azure Heaven Division’s blue-clad swordsmen urgently transmitted a warning.

— Right flank! The completion speed of the energy wave is reaching Essence-Spirit Unification! That’s Je Wi-cheol—Leader of the Nine Provinces of Mong In-wol—!

His voice could not keep up with the movements of supreme masters.

Je Wi-cheol was among Guangxi’s most formidable warriors.

Even before he had fully extended his hands toward Ma Jin, the air around him was already distorting.

His palm force had already been released.

Among the Mong In-wol warriors, he alone, besides their sect leader, could unleash an ultimate technique in an instant.

At that exact moment, Ma Jin’s arms moved in two completely different directions.

With his left hand, he reversed his grip on his saber, pulling it upward.

With his right hand, he thrust backward, intercepting Je Wi-cheol’s force.

For a brief instant, Je Wi-cheol’s brow furrowed.

"That... isn’t a normal martial art."

And half of Mong In-wol... collapsed where they stood.

Without a single sound.