Chapter 521: Chapter 521

Adults were creatures burdened with worries.

Even after bidding a calm and concise farewell, they still had so much to say. So much that it made Jeong Yeon-shin, who had fallen into a strange sentimental mood, want to hurry back to the fortress with a hazy mind.

Yong Hui-myeong and Ma Yeon-jeok.

Those recognized as the Divine Swords of the nation.

Anyone who witnessed the Dreaming Void Sword of both Divine Sword Sect Leaders in the same place would inevitably feel dazed.

Especially those with particularly sensitive senses.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin felt just as lightheaded as when he once drunkenly ranted before Go Geomjin.

‘The martial world of men... the one I must shoulder.......’

His blurred vision, as if wrapped in mist, contained countless scenes.

“You’ve lived long enough—it’s time to rest.”

[Not something you should say with that youthfully smooth face of yours. You brat of the Ma clan, show some restraint and make sure to seal the gate properly.]

Ma Yeon-jeok and Shin Cheonhwa exchanged a short glance.

Then, Ma Yeon-jeok once again captured his grandson’s face in his gaze—offering advice in a youthful yet domineering voice despite his age.

“If you’ve fought such a great battle, there will be a brief moment of reprieve. Especially for the ones in power—those who boast of their petty positions as if they were true authority. This calm, thanks to you, Yeon-shin, will feel like sweet rain to them. But be wary of the schemes of such groups—warriors, merchants, and politicians alike. There will always be those who try to exploit the fortress’s purple-robed authority for personal gain.”

[One even tried to send a marriage broker to me in the most courteous manner. Of course, this brat—your grandfather—smashed his head in.]

Grandfather Ma Yeon-jeok was not someone Jeong Yeon-shin would ever compete against for the title of Divine Sword. Naturally, every word from him was something Jeong Yeon-shin had to take to heart.

At the same time, there was advice from the current Divine Sword Sect Leader as well.

Jeong Yeon-shin, ears still ringing from the aftereffects of his own internal energy surge, took in the warning from the head of the Divine Sword Corps.

“I don’t quite understand it myself, but you seem to have a knack for luring down those reclusive masters playing hermit in the mountains. Well... perhaps it’s that divine aura of yours, crafted with a force that feels almost detached from your nature.”

The teasing tone brushed at his nerves with a smirk.

Yong Hui-myeong’s voice, truly delivering a farewell, allowed no room for response as it continued.

Even without focusing, the words sank into his mind—language filled with provocation and a deep, structured cultivation that had clearly reached a peak.

“In that case, it’d be best to first bring down the lost head of the Wudang Sect. He’ll be a great asset. There’s no need to worry about the vacancy, either. Wudang Mountain is filled with monsters who treat martial arts as the Way. It’s not a sect that relies on a single head.”

“Remember this well.”

Suddenly, Yong Hui-myeong’s pupils stretched vertically. In his bright yellow irises, it was as if a single sword had been embedded.

“The sword of the Divine Sword Sect Leader slices through everything. The enemy’s mystical stratagems, the ally’s deep despair... all are rendered meaningless. Even one’s inherent limitations, or the fate the heavens have assigned, can be severed. That is why it is called Divine.”

He soon ended with a faint smile.

“You are no different.”

It wasn’t a question.

It felt more like he was reaffirming what should have been obvious all along.

Naturally, no rebuttal was accepted, and Jeong Yeon-shin, his upper dantian hazy, managed to offer a serious request.

“...You too, Sect Leader. And you, Grandfather. Even if the heavens send misfortune suited to your personalities, you mustn’t die on such soil.”

Yong Hui-myeong chuckled lightly in reply.

“Even if I die, I’ll leave a corpse behind.”

“Not just a corpse. The Divine Sword.”

“The Divine Sword... you must return it intact.”

At that, he heard the laughter of the three seniors above him.

It wasn’t mocking, but a genuine and delighted breath of laughter. In the midst of the emotional rush, he mumbled softly.

Then came Shin Cheonhwa’s amused voice, rustling the air smoothly.

Even through his haze, Jeong Yeon-shin did not miss the words. He drew Yeorae and followed Shin Cheonhwa’s Shifting Void.

As the immense pressure bore down on his skin and choked his entire body, his blurred vision briefly sharpened—filling with the faces of his grandfather and the Sect Leader.

Men stronger than Jeong Yeon-shin, who bore the name Divine Sword on their own backs.

‘...Even if this land is a bottomless abyss.’

At least, not outside of Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision.

In a fleeting moment, he felt the vibration of the Baihui Acupoint and slipped once again into a dreamlike daze.

Yangyang, Ho Gwang Province.

Three fine steeds panted, as if having galloped long and hard before slowing down.

Breath steamed white through their worn leather bits. A luxurious carriage made of red sandalwood trailed behind them, its four wheels quietly scraping against the ground and occasionally scattering slivers of white frost.

This was the road to the strongest sect under heaven.

It was long and vast.

It was the road where commoners offered respectful greetings when an Ipwang Fortress warrior received a robe dyed in violet.

But now, it was deserted. A few civilians along the road had stopped in place, watching the carriage before scattering in different directions.

As if rushing to report the arrival of someone important.

A voice drifted from within the carriage, which had no coachman. A youthful woman’s voice.

“...What’s going on?”

A reply soon came, in a voice closer to that of a young man.

“Even if the authorities lost most of their intelligence network due to the chaos, Ipwang Fortress is still Ipwang Fortress. The moment signs of a sect-wide war arose, they must have evacuated the civilians. The areas near Seonmokcheon and Suncheon Road are likely filled with Yangyang residents.”

“And who’s protecting them? In times like these?”

“They probably dispatched numerous warriors in white.”

“Right before an unprecedentedly large-scale sect war?”

“That’s Ipwang Fortress for you.”

The wheel rolled over a fragment of a weapon.

It was clearly a carriage for someone of high status. The three steeds were moving on their own, guiding it straight to the front gate of Ipwang Fortress.

The conversation inside the carriage gradually died down.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

It began when the corpses scattered around the sunken moat and the slightly eroded fortress walls started to appear through the window frame, along with the large splashes of blood staining the ground.

As they passed the pile of horse corpses stacked like a hill—felled in a single strike—someone exhaled.

Then, one of the young warriors in white guarding the gate stepped forward and approached the carriage before speaking.

“...You’ve arrived. Truly perfect timing. It had to be now.”

“Are they showing off?”

“Hardly. This is right after a grand battle. Everyone is likely still focused on recovering.”

A pair—a man and a woman—descended from the carriage.

They were the only ones. There wasn’t a single attendant, which was a stark contrast to their appearance.

The man had ears sharp as blades and wore a magnificent robe of deep blue. The dragon emblem on his shoulder marked his noble status.

The emperor, the most exalted under the heavens, bore the sun and moon on his shoulders. Those next in rank bore dragons. In short, it was a royal robe.

From his robe, he pulled out a piece of ivory carved in the shape of a tree.

A royal identification token—only the Lord of Ipwang Fortress and members of the imperial family were known to possess it.

“I am the Prince of the Court.”

A low resonance echoed as white steam rose in threads from the ivory token.

At the same time, the winter-cold air surrounding the area was pushed back by a wave of warmth.

A divine artifact that activated the power of Heat Within Cold.

An extremely rare treasure.

Ordinarily, the moment someone saw the token of the Prince, they would be startled and instantly grow deferential.

But the white-clad warrior facing the Prince Ju Tae-il showed no change in expression—his eyes remained dry and indifferent, and there was even a faint glint of something vaguely combative in them.

Only the formalities of etiquette were flawless.

“I greet the Prince. Please, come inside.”

An obvious insight passed through Ju Tae-il’s mind.

‘One who has known war.’

At the °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° same time, the woman at the prince’s side spoke in a cold, distinct voice like frost.

“He is impudent in temperament. He would do well to watch his conduct.”

She wore a wide-brimmed bamboo hat veiled with a white gauze mask, and even the slight movement of her sharply shadowed jawline caused the hem of the veil to flutter.

It was the natural manifestation of internal energy, born of deep cultivation.

The Sword Princess of Yeong.

The prince’s legitimate daughter. Known across Jiangxi as the Divine Dragon, renowned for her excellence in both martial and literary arts. She was the heir to the powerful royal house of the prince.

The unnamed white warrior replied curtly.

But he would surely show a completely different attitude toward someone wearing purple from Ipwang Fortress.

Though rare, the Sword Princess did not question him further. An atmosphere that said she must not do so flowed over the massive walls like an invisible flame.

She followed the warrior’s courteous lead inside and spoke to the prince.

“It seems we have come at a poor time?”

The prince gave an immediate reply along with a voice transmission.

—He is the only one in the world truly wearing purple, and a warlike sect battle has broken out. Now is the only time to discuss the whereabouts of Jeong Yeon-shin of Seomye. If not today, no one in this land will be able to place a leash on him. Things are very different from when we met in Hangju.

His archaic speech left a unique vibration through the transmission.

Suddenly, the auras of martial artists from all around Ipwang Fortress surged.

A temperament that allowed no scheming or backdoor dealings. There was no bloodlust, but it was a formidable state of vigilance.

Even so, the prince’s voice transmission continued unshaken.

—I do not wish for the return of the Tyrant. Ma Yeon-jeok, in an era of peace, was the one who kept the administration from rotting. But things are different in a time of chaos. Had Jeong Yeon-shin, who lacks even a single true friend, lived through such turmoil, he would surely have fractured the unity of this land. And know this—Jeong of House Jeong, Seomye, was even more dangerous than that Tyrant.

A faint reflection surfaced on the Sword Princess’s veil. Her lips moved ever so slightly. She had clearly come at the wrong time.

Even after the two entered the inner fortress, visitors continued to arrive. The prince’s entourage was not the last.

Noble martial families led by the likes of the Jinju family.

And even merchant guilds who had grown exceedingly powerful by hoarding supplies during years of famine.

Dozens of carriages and processions crossed the main street, each stopping at the same place, again and again.

It all happened before even half of the civilians who had fled Yangyang had returned.

Ipwang Fortress had fought a sect war.

And the aftermath was so great it would ripple across the entire world. An unprecedented scale indeed.

It would significantly impact not only the martial world but also the upper realm and the political landscape of the world.

Everything had been inevitable.

And naturally, countless eyes turned toward it.

Which lands and roads were now safe, which great sects would fall in the wake of the “Ipwang War,” and how the sub-sects under them would move in the future.

There were even unsettling rumors that the northern martial realm’s borders had collapsed. That unfamiliar factions and unknown lineages were advancing south.

‘The imperial court is on the verge of losing its grip over the world. Regardless of status or power, everyone will be in need of somewhere to rely upon.......’

Im Jin-myeong thought.

The masters who fought in the Ipwang War, their martial techniques, and the detailed course of the battle—these would all soon be widely known through gossips and enthusiasts alike.

But for now, the arguments erupting within the inner fortress of Ipwang concerned something else entirely.

“I am already aware of His Majesty’s decree. Jeong Yeon-shin of Seomye must earnestly comply with that will.”

“I do not understand the intent behind your words.”

The road stained with the blood of the enemies who had invaded earlier.

Im Jin-myeong was on his way from the fortress to the general’s office when he was intercepted by the prince.

Originally, the meeting had been delayed, but the prince had used his elusive movement technique to cut off Im Jin-myeong mid-route.

The sunlight slanted transparently across the white walls—it was that time of day. Under shadows that fell as if mimicking the dignity of the highborn.

“Do not play me for a fool. Was it not already publicly declared in Hangju? There’s no way the Grand Marshal of Ipwang Fortress would be unaware of that. Jeong of Seomye must not leave this land, and thus, all matters concerning his movements fall properly under the jurisdiction of the imperial family. It is His Majesty’s own decree, and it must be honored as such.”

“...I do not agree with that interpretation. Nor can I follow it.”

“I understand it may sound like sophistry. Blame my lack of virtue.”

“I also understand that you are doing your utmost to stabilize things after the war. But that is because you were granted full authority. Today, all affairs of Ipwang Fortress, great and small, lie in the hands of Grand Marshal Im Jin-myeong, do they not?”

Im Jin-myeong remained silent for a moment, sweeping his gaze around.

‘I don’t understand his intentions. I heard he backed down immediately in Hangju—what changed since then.......’

The prince was a martial artist of considerable strength.

And yet, he had not raised any internal energy barriers now.

As a result, the various distinguished guests who had arrived in Ipwang Fortress simultaneously today were descending one after another, and strangely, nearly half of them were women close in age to the acting Sect Leader of the Divine Sword Corps.

Not even a sound of footsteps.

They had clearly all reached the level of silent movement.

‘...And yet, they did not aid the fortress.’

In fact, they had all been observing the battle from close range.

Perhaps it was because it had been difficult to predict victory or defeat at the time. But regardless of the odds, Ipwang Fortress had never been in a position to weigh such things—it had always stood as the shield for the common people.

A hint of anger flickered in Im Jin-myeong’s eyes.

The advice that had risen to his throat was once again swallowed.

He said nothing before the two violet robes fluttering in the distance could finish rippling through the air.

Soon, the sunlight pouring from the west split into countless rays, quivering silently like spreading fans.