Chapter 510: Chapter 510

The sky was overcast.

It did not feel like the dead of winter. Instead, the scene resembled a scorching summer day, with the air itself heating up, shimmering in waves.

Charred fragments of stone crumbled ominously from the already-collapsed fortress walls.

What remained of the fortress sprawled across the ground like a half-built sandcastle abandoned by Pangu, the primordial giant of ancient myth.

It emitted a dry, cracking sound, as if it had been exposed to the sun’s relentless blaze for far too long.

This was the western boundary of the Ipwang Fortress Annihilation War.

Nearly two thousand warriors stood divided into two groups, silently watching each other, revolving their internal energy through their meridians with controlled breaths.

The sheer number of the wandering mercenary forces was overwhelming. No one could even begin to estimate how many trade caravans the Lord of Yeoryeong had secretly mobilized behind the scenes.

Among the Thirteen Heavens' ranks, over thirty members of the Iron Clan stood—a fearsome presence. They were the very ones who had shattered Ipwang Fortress’s grand formation.

Thus, multiple battles had already erupted.

The ground between the two forces was stained with slick, dark crimson patches of blood. The soil had yet to fully absorb the sheer amount of blood that had been spilled.

The invaders from outside now stood with the ruined fortress behind them, a clear sign that the forces of Ipwang had been steadily pushed back.

Yet the martial masters assembled by Yeoryeong remained expressionless. Amidst them, the waves of transmitted sound techniques hummed indistinctly.

— Where is the Lord of Yeoryeong?

— Not visible. It’s strange. Could it be that they’ve abandoned the grand scheme altogether...?

— Nonsense. Even if Gwangya Ilmyeol appeared unexpectedly, that alone isn’t enough to claim the battle is completely lost. This plan has been prepared for at least a decade.

— Of course, I don’t believe that Gwangya Ilmyeol could simultaneously slaughter both the Leader of Murong Sect and the Chief of Green Forest Army, but...

"Such concerns are meaningless when matters are about to unfold so swiftly. Wouldn’t it be enough for you to simply take what you desire and withdraw?"

The murmured transmissions ceased.

A middle-aged man, clad in fine blue silk, had spoken.

It was Guan Mazun, known to be the Lord of Yeoryeong’s most trusted confidant, who had overheard their secret exchange.

A chilling silence fell, and the warriors visibly stiffened in shock.

Guan Mazun slowly clasped his hands behind his back.

Then, narrowing his thread-thin eyes into a smile, he spoke.

"In all of history, there has never been a battle within the martial world of this land. A war so great that the entire world watches. What good will come from lowering morale with idle speculation?"

"Oh? The Emperor’s hounds are coming again. Of course, they wouldn’t want to witness the return of Haeil Kwoncheon’s Six Harmonies Demonic Barrier. Everyone, move."

At his command, translucent bursts of internal energy exploded in all directions.

The grandmasters on both sides, stepping upon those currents of power, launched themselves toward each other, their collision releasing a fierce shockwave.

Kugugugugung! Jeojeojeong!

The air trembled violently.

The battlefield, in an instant, roared like an inferno exploding.

Seated cross-legged at Guan Mazun’s feet, an individual slowly rose.

He was not particularly tall.

His physique did not stand out in any noticeable way, yet the very act of him standing caused the space around him to subtly distort, the air bending like a heat haze.

He wore a somewhat faded red battle robe, and his face was concealed by a mask shaped like a four-eyed ghost.

His appearance was unsettling—like a jester imitating the grandeur of a nation’s war general.

Guan Mazun, glancing back at him, furrowed his brows.

"You’ve already finished circulating your energy? The elixir you ingested was ‘Manyang,’ a pill comparable to the Summoning Elixir. No matter how deep your internal energy cultivation is, it should take at least an hour to fully integrate it into your meridians."

The masked man responded in a low voice.

"A battlefield doesn’t grant an hour."

His speech was subtly slurred, his diction imperfect.

His attire was grand, yet his words were unrefined.

Guan Mazun, however, merely gave a short reply before falling silent.

"Do not forget our agreement."

Haeil Kwoncheon, Lord of the Thirteen Heavens, did not answer.

He took a single step forward.

The warriors of Ipwang Fortress, realizing this, hastily moved to activate their formations.

Haeil Kwoncheon became a blur of reddish light, and in the next instant, he surged across the battlefield, leaving behind a gently curving trail.

His movements defied time itself.

With the fortress walls already in ruins, there was nothing left to block his advance.

Even the deafening roars of his technique fractured into segments, like echoes skipping across reality.

Anyone caught within his trajectory—friend or foe—melted away.

Most of them had not even turned their heads before they perished.

Yet Haeil Kwoncheon continued his relentless charge deep into the fortress.

With each step he took, the ground beneath him sank, turning into molten sludge.

Even before that burning mire could form completely, his body was already further ahead.

The scavenging gazes of the trailing mercenaries, greedy for power, followed his path to the westernmost end.

Ma Gwang-ik’s Pavilion.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The birthplace of Seomye Martial Pulse.

What other forbidden techniques might still be sleeping there?

But even as they looked, part of the pavilion collapsed and caught fire.

The aftershock of Haeil Kwoncheon’s movement had wrought destruction.

The walls of the training halls, once bearing the footprints of Ma Gwang-ik’s Seomye Footwork, were now charred and shattered.

Inside, Yun So-yu, the Yullyeong Daeju, and Seonmok Lingju, the Commander of the Black Sovereigns, had been in the midst of regulating their breathing.

Yet they had been unable to keep pace with the monstrous force surging past them.

The difference in recovery speed was simply too great.

Thus, for the first time in history, Haeil Kwoncheon crossed Ipwang Fortress’s inner stronghold in a straight line—unhindered, unstoppable.

And in mere moments, he reached his true destination.

A small palace, sculpted from pristine white marble.

The Ipwang Fortress’s Celestial Silence Treasury.

Despite the fortress being in a state of war, thirty gatekeepers stood vigilant, guarding their posts.

If this were Shaolin, this place would be their Scripture Pavilion. There was no way Ipwang Fortress would neglect the security of the Celestial Silence Treasury, where all of its martial arts manuals were stored.

From behind the ghostly mask, Haeil Kwoncheon’s voice emerged in a slow, awkward manner.

“This is the first time we’re welcoming an outsider here. May I ask your purpose?”

A young man emerged from behind the Celestial Silence Treasury’s doors, posing the question.

The officials of the General Bureau, including him, never afforded respect to their enemies.

Even if the foe standing before them was a martial master who held their very lives in his grasp, their stance remained unchanged.

This man was Oh Il-hwan (悟溢歡), a scholar of the General Bureau.

He was well acquainted with Jeong of the Main Household. Their connection traced back to the day when the young scion of the Jeong family had knocked on the doors of the Celestial Silence Treasury, seeking the secret tomes of Seomye Martial Pulse.

At that moment, Guan Mazun landed beside Haeil Kwoncheon and spoke.

“There is no need for long conversations. I am well aware that when an undefeatable enemy sets foot inside the Celestial Silence Treasury, a formation is triggered to set this place ablaze. Deactivate it now.”

Oh Il-hwan spat out the words indifferently.

The moment he did, the guards standing beside him simultaneously drew their swords, aiming them at the intruders.

Guan Mazun turned his gaze to Haeil Kwoncheon.

“Occupy their Ahyeol acupoint and proceed with Bone-Grinding Tendon-Breaking Technique. I followed you here out of concern, but now that I think of it—those two, Yullyeong Commander Yun So-yu and Seonmok Lord Cheon So-so, didn’t manage to do anything to stop us. This is the perfect opportunity... I’ll make sure to kill Cheon So-so myself.”

Well, in any case, you’re much better at torture than I am.

As Guan Mazun muttered this and turned away—

From the distance, an old man began walking toward them.

He had just stepped out of an alley, turning toward their direction.

His footsteps were light, too feeble to be considered the stride of a warrior.

Rather than a martial artist, his gait resembled that of an aged villager who still retained some grace in his movements.

The only thing that hinted at his noble status was the dignified flutter of his deep purple sleeves.

It was expected that an elderly noble of his stature would have attendants helping him walk, yet he was alone.

However, when Guan Mazun saw him, his expression brightened.

“Well, if it isn’t the Elder Council Chief of Ipwang Fortress. What an honor it is to see you here.”

“What honor is there in me? My body is just as wretched as yours.”

Shin Byeok responded curtly.

Meanwhile, Haeil Kwoncheon remained silent, gazing at the Celestial Silence Treasury without a shred of interest in the old man.

Shin Byeok paid him no mind and continued speaking.

“If your focus is on the destruction of this fortress, why bring such chaos upon a mere library?”

“There are books that must be retrieved before this place burns,” Guan Mazun replied casually.

“For example, the Jeongga Donggong, the Hwangang, the Dragon Coil Sword, the Hapwha Divine Technique, and of course, all of Seonmok Lord’s martial arts manuals. Surely, you wouldn’t have left treasures like Jeongga Donggong and Hwangang in Ma Gwang-ik’s Pavilion, would you?”

“You fool. How many of those do you think are actually stored here?”

“If I find even one, that’s enough.”

Guan Mazun then asked, his gaze narrowing.

“But I’m more curious about something else.

How is it that an injured old man like you happened to arrive at this precise moment?”

“The Celestial Silence Treasury is placed near the Imperial Household of Ipwang. That is the law of the fortress.”

“Ah, so the Shin Household is nearby. That makes sense.”

“One more thing. I’m quite intrigued by your confidence—”

His figure disappeared.

In the next instant, he reappeared behind Shin Byeok, seizing the old man’s shoulder.

The luxurious purple robe crumpled slightly under his grip, a silent reminder of how much Ipwang Fortress’s status had declined in the martial world.

“...Why did you show yourself, old man?

You’re nothing more than a withered husk wrapped in faded purple.”

The surroundings of the Celestial Silence Treasury had already been filled with the heat radiating from Haeil Kwoncheon’s body.

The sunlight itself seemed to condense and weigh down upon them.

The sky, clear just moments ago, now crumpled like the fabric of Shin Byeok’s robe.

Guan Mazun suddenly overheard a faint voice, a transmission of sound.

Where had it come from?

The sharp articulation was unmistakable—it belonged to a General Bureau official.

It was the voice of the Grand Overseer of Ipwang Fortress.

[“...Permission (許). The formation is prepared. The domain... until completion. ...Activating now, in the name of the former Divine Sword Sect Leader, Won Young-shin....”]

Shin Byeok’s lips moved without expression.

He was not responding to the transmission.

He was declaring it to Guan Mazun.

“My spirit is still purple.”

Before those words even fully left his lips—

A surge of energy erupted from beneath him, rushing up his legs and enveloping his entire body.

Simultaneously, a translucent wave of force radiated from Shin Byeok’s forehead.

The power of a Divine Warrior’s Upper Dantian, honed over a lifetime.

In that instant, Guan Mazun’s grip on his shoulder tightened instinctively.

He can’t be taken hostage! He must be killed here...!

It happened in a flash.

For a fleeting moment, a vision of a long-haired warrior—his hair cascading like a waterfall—flashed across Shin Byeok’s frame.

The old man’s lips stretched into a youthful, vibrant expression.

His once-withered limbs swelled, forming smooth, muscular curves.

A transformation akin to rebirth, as if something divine had flooded into his very being.

There was no time to counterattack.

The Elder Council Chief of Ipwang Fortress, Shin Byeok, had vanished—

And in his place, stood a woman in flowing purple robes, her long black hair cascading down her back.

Like a phantom merging with human flesh, a ghost assuming corporeal form.

This was the Will of Won Young-shin, a remnant of the deceased Divine Sword Sect Leader, manifesting through the resonance of Shin Byeok’s Upper Dantian, a spiritual force so powerful it could restore one’s living essence.

A technique only achievable by those who had attained the peak of swordsmanship.

A martial art that transcended death itself.

Her crimson lips curved into a bold smile.

[“How much time remains?”]

[“More than enough.”]

She didn’t bother to acknowledge Guan Mazun’s hand still gripping her shoulder.

She merely lifted her palm toward him.

The formless pressure obliterated Guan Mazun’s body, as if he were nothing more than mud.

The same force swept up Haeil Kwoncheon, hurling him violently against the fortress wall.

Cracks spread from the impact, sending thunderous tremors across the entire battlefield.

Shin Cheonhwa shook her hand off, muttering.

[“I should at least see my successor’s face before I go.”]