Chapter 523: Chapter 523

Jeong Yeon-shin was never lazy when it came to learning. Even in his own estimation, he had grown rapidly in both martial arts and character.

When he once sat together with the three seniors who had wielded the Ascended Sword as their main weapon, he heard what the virtues of a Divine Sword Sect Master ought to be.

Above all, it was not to waste one’s energy on trivial matters.

One was to internalize only the current affairs of the martial world as explained by the Grand Commander and entrust all the day-to-day affairs of Ipwang Fortress or the political tides in the Northern Capital to the blade alone.

The Divine Sword Sect Master was to be the embodiment of the people's lives. If one could stand upright with only martial strength, then supply problems and deceitful scheming would naturally fade.

He couldn’t help but agree, seeing the scene spread out beneath the rooftop.

“You... How could you...!”

The face of Prince Ju Tae-il, whom he had seen in Hangzhou, was cast in a dusky gloom. The dignified and noble grace he once carried seemed to be sucked into the fading twilight.

It was evident in the way he pointed at Shin Cheonhwa, standing in midair. His finger trembled faintly.

Suddenly, Shin Cheonhwa turned her head ever so slightly toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

[He’s the one who sent an envoy to me.]

Jeong Yeon-shin gave a flat exhale of surprise after glancing briefly at the crown of the prince’s head.

Because of the official hat with silk wings rising from the back of his head, the traces of his maternal grandfather’s palm technique had not been visible.

While regretting that he couldn’t yet match his grandfather’s accomplishments in youth, he reached out toward the pitch-black swallow flying toward him through the air.

It was faint but distinct. The now-familiar scent of blood wafted from the tiny flapping wings.

[Let me introduce myself, then. I once used the courtesy name "Cheonhwa" of the Shin Clan. My identity is something the Ju family gathered here should know well.]

“The Ascended Sword Lord... from two generations ago...!”

“You mean there was another Divine Sword Sect Master? What sort of group is Ipwang Fortress even...?”

Murmurs and gasps of “a den of demons” began to ripple from all around. But Jeong Yeon-shin no longer looked their way. Being the former Divine Sword Sect Master was explanation enough.

[You’ve arrived at the perfect time. First, let’s establish a military conscription agreement.]

The presence of Shin Cheonhwa stepping toward the guests was palpable. She looked ready to strike. A moment later, crunching sounds erupted from the jaws of several men who had started to speak in hostility.

With no warning, blasts of force had shot up from below, shattering their lower jaws.

[Supplies may be endless and intoxicating, but we are still the sword of the nation. For the next ten years at least, your rice bowls shouldn’t be empty. We bleed for you, after all.]

They remained silent in the prison of rough stone that jutted out like stalagmites from a deep cavern.

[Moving the Ju Royal Household to the capital, forming a mercenary group made of drifters in Southern Jikrye... All very plausible. Of course, the marriage of Seomye should be left to the young man himself. And then...]

Shin Cheonhwa broke through the pretentious airs of the gathered guests like a martial technique dismantling defenses, smoothly taking what was necessary for the capital.

It was likely thanks to her unrelenting words, her overwhelming martial might, and her undeniable status.

Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his gaze again, momentarily ignoring the presences around him.

A bird had perched on his forearm at some point, stretching out one leg. He recognized it at a glance. It was unmistakably Cheongmyeong’s swallow.

A spiritual creature that delivered messages from the current Bright Wing Lord. A short message was tied to its outstretched leg.

He didn’t reach out hastily.

The letter had been written in blood. Though it had clearly been dried with internal energy to prevent smudging, the scent of blood was heavy.

He stared at it in silence for a single breath, then—accepting his role as the former Bright Wing Lord—Jeong Yeon-shin unfolded the tiny letter. Two characters immediately caught his eye.

Some words had been wasted on the previous side of the note, as the final strokes of the characters were a little faded.

Jeong Yeon-shin knew every small gesture and physical quirk of all the Bright Wing martial artists. He instantly recognized the handwriting as that of White-Clad Warrior Eung Han-so.

Someone who had never made a loud presence but had always quietly ensured Jeong Yeon-shin, Hyeon Won-chang, and even Tae Yeom-ryong in his early days were provided with supplies.

—Your uniform doesn’t fit again? This time, even your nightwear might need replacing. You're truly admirable as a warrior, Yeon-shin...

Eung Han-so’s temperament was honest and unembellished.

Jeong Yeon-shin knew the Bright Wing would never lie about their safety. Not to him.

‘Han-so hyung... why a blood letter?’

Why was the message so short? They usually asked about how much his arms and legs had grown.

Could he not even spare the time to take out ink and brush?

What kind of situation was he caught in?

At that moment, Cheon So-so, who had been beside him, glanced at the letter and spoke. At some point, she had released the edge of Jeong Yeon-shin’s sleeve.

“The Bright Wing crew may be combative, but they’re not so arrogant as to presume the level or safety of the Violet Rank. If they’d needed help, they would’ve said so clearly. This means they can handle it—for now, at least.”

Her voice brushed his ear like a dawn breeze—clear and gentle. It was a rare, long line for someone like her, always measured in tone.

Jeong Yeon-shin stayed silent for a moment, then gave a small nod.

He wouldn’t interfere in everything. That was the conduct of a Divine Sword Sect Master. It was right to wait for further news from the Bright Wing.

Right there, Jeong Yeon-shin flipped the message over and wrote a reply. Using a sudden burst of energy, he pierced the skin of his index finger.

—Six Armors, Not Permitted.

It was a warning not to act rashly, and to prioritize survival. Cheon So-so silently stared at his neat calligraphy, but Jeong Yeon-shin ignored it with the modesty of one uninterested in showing off a hand style earned through childhood beatings.

He had no desire to brag.

‘Still, I’ll send support.’

After releasing [N O V E L I G H T] Cheongmyeong’s swallow once again, Jeong Yeon-shin glanced under the roof.

There stood Shin Cheonhwa, now accompanied by one of the capital’s attendants, calmly preparing a signed declaration.

She was having the guests affix their seals to a blank document spread open by the attendant. It didn’t look very dignified.

Still, it was necessary. It would have to be considered a sacrifice by the senior.

“Please write the content first.”

[Is there time for that? I’ll handle it all.]

“This is absurd, though, even so—!”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

[Is it not absurd that those claiming to serve the nation speak of marriage in a fortress fresh from war?]

Jeong Yeon-shin, watching that scene for a moment, suddenly kicked off the rooftop. There were too many things he had to take care of in place of the Division Master.

The dust gathered atop the roof was swept away by a soft glow. He left behind only a word for Cheon So-so before vanishing from the spot.

“Please summon the Black-Robed Seniors to the Wonpyeong Unified Blade Hall.”

It would be the first.

A leadership meeting hosted by Jeong Yeon-shin at Ipwang Fortress.

A gathering of former and current Divine Sword Sub-Commanders, Lord of Seonmok, Lord of the Commandments, the Cheonrim Captain, the Infinite Pole Lord, the Sky-Reaching Lord, and even the acting Suncheon Lord.

It would also mark the moment when the Divine Sword Corps of Ipwang Fortress would evolve into a far more aggressive force than ever before.

The road still bore patches of blood here and there.

Guests of all kinds had written their names on the petition, only to be either sent back where they came from or forced to return to their originally assigned residences in Ipwang Fortress.

Those who so much as voiced a single objection didn’t leave unscathed. The members of the Ju Clan suffered deep internal injuries, while the other guests were visibly wounded.

All of them, along with a shame none had ever imagined would befall them.

It was difficult to retaliate against the entirety of Ipwang Fortress.

But they could still file formal complaints in the Northern Capital about the former head of the Divine Sword Sect.

And their voices would not be low. They walked off, each with a similar look on their face.

“What kind of sorcery was that...?”

“There was another wearing violet? This must be handled with extreme urgency...!”

“Let’s go to the Northern Capital. We were going to stop by anyway.”

But to Grand Commander Im Jin-myeong, none of this mattered.

He gave his thanks to someone who would soon be gone.

“Thanks to you, I avoided a crisis.”

[Supplying provisions is a major issue. Truly, these are troubled times. Imagine—Grand Commander of the main fortress calling this a crisis, just because of post-battle cleanup.]

“You stepped forward in place of Master Jeong.”

What kind of discipline had she shown?

Given the timing, the backlash might have been too much for anyone to endure. With a strange expression, Shin Cheonhwa nodded slightly and spoke again.

[Things will only get harder. Especially with people who call themselves kings behaving .]

“There are no true masters of the Ju Clan left in this land. They either went north or died there... it’s one or the other.”

[So, Gunreung is dead?]

[He didn’t live to a natural end. He was someone who should’ve remained on the imperial throne forever... I can’t even guess why he died.]

“He did what was necessary. After the former sect master passed away, a Battle God emerged and unified more than half the chaotic northern lands. And within the nation’s borders, all kinds of monstrous beings are rampaging nonstop.”

[And are those the signs of it?]

Suddenly, Shin Cheonhwa pointed to one side of the road.

The guests who had been scattering moments ago were now standing still—mighty figures from various sectors, the kind one wouldn’t easily see elsewhere.

A sound like stepping on clouds echoed softly.

A group of over twenty figures, all clad in white robes, smoothly walked through the crowd of guests.

Were they waiting for the commotion to die down? Even though some guests, proud as they were, refused to make way, not a single one managed to block their path.

They passed through without so much as brushing the hem of anyone’s garments.

As if wrapped in a barrier of untouchable stillness.

There was even a hint of obsessive cleanliness to them. Despite being drenched in strange green blood and covered in torn chunks of flesh stuck to various parts of their bodies.

“Cloudsun Immortal Sword, Lord of the Clear Lake Sect, Palm of Forgetting Calamity, Hermit of the Watchtower....”

Im Jin-myeong spoke in a low voice.

“...They’re secular disciples of Wudang.”

Heirs of Wudang, famed as the greatest sword sect in history, who chose a worldly path and never became Taoist priests. They had not learned the supreme arts like the Taiji Wisdom Sword or the Tenfold Forbidden Techniques.

[Wudang, huh. Still as difficult to talk to as ever.]

Shin Cheonhwa gave a small shrug.

[You deal with them. I have farewells to share with a junior.]

Suddenly, her form stretched like a mirage toward the far-off rooftop. In the blink of an eye, she vanished completely.

Im Jin-myeong brought both hands together and respectfully bowed in the direction she disappeared, then turned around. The Wudang secular disciples were standing before him.

Descendants of Zhang Sanfeng.

Is this what the Seomye Martial Line would become after being worn down by long years?

At the forefront stood an elderly man. In a quiet voice, he introduced himself as the master of the Clear Lake Sect, a secular branch of Wudang.

“For some unknown reason, a newborn Human-Faced Beast, the Ghost Bird, the Golden Turtle of Forgetfulness, and the Flying Centipede tried to cross into Yangyang. I’ve come to inform you that the threat has been eliminated.”

The names of all manner of spiritual beasts flowed from his mouth.

And that wasn’t all. Before anyone could even react, the Clear Lake Master moved to what was clearly his main purpose.

“Also, we wish to escort Master Jeong of Seomye to the Sword-Releasing Grounds of our main sect. This is a will of Wudang itself, and I inform you that a named disciple personally dispatched from the main sect is heading to your leadership’s meeting grounds.”

Im Jin-myeong immediately countered.

“I’m well aware of the Clear Lake Master’s reputation, but who gave you permission to roam the main fortress like your own home?”

It was a question from the Grand Commander of Ipwang Fortress. The oppressive force behind it was enough to shake anyone—but the Clear Lake Master’s face remained calm.

“From Ipwang Fortress’s perspective, it’s akin to having the head of a fallen chivalrous sect suddenly laid atop Wudang Mountain. I do not dare speak for Wudang, but... nonetheless, I apologize for the discourtesy. Please, understand.”

It was a direct yet gentle tone. The metaphor clearly pointed to the fallen Sword Saint, and the apology paired with the plea for understanding carried sincere weight.

Im Jin-myeong opened his mouth, then closed it again.

A long silence followed.

It was the Clear Lake Master who spoke first again.

“Therefore, even if a master from the main sect appears unannounced at an important gathering, do not treat it as a major intrusion. Master Jeong’s presence will encompass the entirety of this fortress, and none but her could harm her own body... There will be no great clash between the main sect and Ipwang Fortress. This is not merely a display of effortless power, but rather a result of the nature of the divine technique she has mastered. I speak of the Taiji Wisdom Sword.”

Im Jin-myeong did not reply.

Right now, all the lords of the Divine Sword Corps were gathering at the One Sword Pavilion.

Aside from the time Yong Hui-myeong issued a mandatory summons, there had never been so many assembled at once.

Among them were individuals who warranted particular attention.

The Spear of Ipwang Fortress, ever watching for a chance to reclaim his position. The Blood Extreme Demon, whose eyes were bloodshot with intent to leave everything behind. And the White Qilin, who had gone a little mad after repeated failures and losses.