Chapter 532: Chapter 532

The air in the room had become serene. Not a trace remained of the stagnant qi that inevitably clung to spaces where people lived. Everything felt clear, crisp, and vivid.

Jeong Yeon-shin was already standing, looking back over his shoulder.

A residual afterimage stirred at his feet. The shape of his body, which had been lying down, dispersed belatedly.

Body Shift and Position Exchange.

A momentary fusion of the Shifting Wings Step, the Wind Spirit Technique, and the brilliance of Ten Li Light Radiance—all unconsciously blended together.

Even as he moved, he questioned himself.

Something still feels off...

Ever since leaving Ipwang Fortress.

His mind, which should have been like a sword gripped firmly in hand, felt no different from that of Wudang’s Jae Woon-jong. Everything had turned vague and blurry.

Every physical sensation he’d experienced until now remained vivid, and yet his mind—disorderly. Like a ruined form stripped of precision.

Unable to blend with others.

Even time itself slipped beyond proper awareness.

But Jeong Yeon-shin set the question aside for now. Because a figure, nearly impossible to believe, had entered his field of vision.

Like a mirage in the great desert, the form of an old man shimmered faintly.

He wore a gray robe, the sleeves slightly short, revealing his wrists—thick, yet giving off a strangely smooth impression.

An expression full of laughter and vitality.

Despite the wrinkles in his skin, his age didn’t register.

He brimmed with life. His eyes held the full spectrum of joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure. He seemed like someone who would express emotions freely, without hesitation.

But Jeong Yeon-shin had only a fraction of a second to take him in.

His upper dantian trembled violently like a swarm of bees.

A bolt of searing pain shot through him. It felt like his eyes were being scorched from the inside out. Every meridian and capillary from his eyes to the top of his head flared pitch-black with fire.

Just seeing the old master had nearly blown his mind apart. Every minor motion, every slight twitch of muscle, every perfectly poised posture—came crashing into him like an avalanche of stimulation.

Sword paths—dozens, hundreds—flashed through his mind, tangled, dissolved, and exploded into white light. Each was incomprehensible.

If taken individually, those paths might make sense. But no such leisure was afforded. It was like standing at the edge of a vast sea, unable to build even the smallest dam.

Jeong Yeon-shin quickly twisted his gaze aside.

The vibration in his upper dantian stopped immediately. But the aftereffects lingered like residual heat, causing a slight twitch in his eyes. It felt like heat-born feathers were brushing gently against the neural meridians in his head.

That old man was the world itself.

Like the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, he made no effort to shield his form with the subtlety of a natural sword’s principle. No concealment. No isolation from martial perception.

He was not someone from whom one could glean martial insight casually.

Jeong Yeon-shin averted his gaze and cautiously spoke.

“...Are you Wudang’s Founder Patriarch?”

But the old master gave no reply. After glancing briefly at Jeong Yeon-shin, he simply turned his eyes to the distance, as if gazing beyond the walls.

A strange kind of disregard.

He tried calling out a few more times, but the old master only stood with his hands behind his back, like a hermit in a painting. The pose felt more like nature than posture.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s Baihui acupoint burned hotter than ever, as if signaling the closeness of death.

“Old man... no, Elder.”

The old master still flickered faintly, like a candle’s flame.

An eerie presence. Perhaps from having endured an unfathomable span of time.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly closed his mouth.

And when he glanced down, he realized something. The artifact that had summoned this unstable apparition was still at his waist.

The Songmun Ancient Sword of Sambong Zhenren.

Right now, it didn’t feel like a sword at all. It felt like a part of nature itself. Was it resonating with the spiritual energy of this sacred Wudang Mountain? Or was it simply the land, soaked in traces of Sambong Zhenren?

Either way, it felt just like the first time he had seen the Nirvana Sword of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

Even though its original wielder was long gone, the Songmun Ancient Sword had slipped free of detection by any martial master.

An uncanny and chilling phenomenon.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Presumably a manifestation of the power known in legends as a Natural Sword.

It explained why not only Jeong Yeon-shin, but even the current Wudang Sect Leader and all other elders had failed to recognize the sword.

When had it started? As far as Jeong Yeon-shin could recall, it was after his confrontation with those in Ipwang Fortress whose cultivation resonated with Wudang’s energies.

A faint coolness swept through Jeong Yeon-shin.

He had begun to grasp answers to questions that had long troubled him. And in this moment, one of them shattered underfoot. It was the beginning.

He slowly bowed his head and cupped his fists.

The old master remained silent.

He was certainly no illusion.

Whether the old master was ignoring him or simply unaware of him, he unquestionably existed—dispersing a subtle purity into the air.

Am I... not qualified to speak with him?

“Sir Jeong, may I come in for a moment?”

It was Ju Se-hwa’s voice.

At the same time, the old master suddenly pointed to one of Jeong Yeon-shin’s hands—the one still clutching the box he’d held even in sleep.

The stone box containing Master Jade Sword’s head.

Earlier, the acting Sect Leader, Master Jade Cliff, had entrusted the box to Jeong Yeon-shin, asking for no resignation—only responsibility.

In that instant, Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes sharpened.

His hand blurred, and the stone box vanished behind his back. A reflexive execution of the Formless Flower Technique, embodying the mystery of No Form, Infinite Change.

The old master, who had been watching silently, finally began to show expression.

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

At that moment, the most transcendent illusion in all the world responded to human decency.

Jeong Yeon-shin felt it—if not in sight, then in presence. He didn’t dare meet the old master’s eyes, fearing his vision might burn again.

Even sensing the old master through martial intuition felt excessive.

Which made the change all the more profound.

An aged, ragged voice swept through Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind like a passing dream:

“Your Tai Chi... it has a color.”

At once, Jeong Yeon-shin’s head snapped up.

A fluttering blue hem whipped through the gale.

Wearing a long, flowing azure robe, Shin So-bin dashed across the wasteland with lightness technique. Each time her widened stride pounded the ground, a faint glow shimmered and trailed in her wake.

The rough character Desolation etched onto her shoulder stirred ceaselessly.

Her meridians throbbed with turbulent internal energy.

Beneath her fluttering sleeve, her pale wrist, veined faintly blue, was clearly visible. At some point, she had grown that tall.

Wind, moonlight, swings... poor, poor commander. Ten Li Chaos, Dead Star’s Glow...

She recited incantations for movement and lightness techniques under her breath.

She was eighteen now—like her same-aged Grand Master—though not quite at Jeong Yeon-shin’s level.

Her tightly knit musculature had grown solid and defined. Her legs had lengthened as well. Just like Jeong Yeon-shin once was.

Likely thanks to the Jeong Family’s internal arts.

Or maybe it was all the side dishes Jeong Yeon-shin had forced her to eat at mealtimes.

Just as all the warriors under Ma Gwang-ik who were shorter than the acting commander had grown over time, Shin So-bin had become dazzling in every regard—a masterful adult.

Up front, the black-robed swordsman leading the way—Cheongmyeong of Ma Gwang-ik—glanced back and gave a sly smile. His sprint was light and smooth, like wind-blown leaves.

“Your footwork’s decent. Hm. The successor of Ten Li Light Radiance ought to be, I suppose. After all, there’s no one else in the world like you.”

But there was no reply.

Shin So-bin, panting heavily, merely shouted something else in response.

“Can we please get horses? Just a horse!”

“They said if we go through the outpost, those guys will be in trouble,” Cheongmyeong answered, gesturing ahead with his eyes.

There, a faint blur of dust raced like a cloud in the distance—a mounted rider.

Even as she sprinted fiercely, Shin So-bin shook her head in frustration.

“What’s the point of being part of Ipwang Fortress, then?! The whole reason people fear us is because we can use the postal stations freely!”

The smile vanished from Cheongmyeong’s lips.

“Sure, the White and Blue Ranks of the main fortress get more fear thanks to the relay system—but still, the successor of Ten Li Light Radiance shouldn’t be saying that. Your words carry weight.”

A light scolding. But it carried a subtle edge of genuine reproach.

Shin So-bin shut her mouth. Then drove her foot down harder with a thud.

She leapt forward like a comet streaking through a star cluster. Her silence signaled her concession.

Only then did Cheongmyeong’s smile return.

Meanwhile, trailing behind them, one of the warriors of Ma Gwang-ik—Wi Ye-ryeong of the April Palace Guards—spoke up.

“Setting aside whether heading to Wudang is the right course... even if the mountain gate really is our destination, this isn’t the right direction. We’d have to circle completely around. All the gates of Jade Purity, Upper Purity, and Great Purity are on the opposite side of the range.”

Cheongmyeong replied without even turning.

“They must have something in mind. We just have to observe the behavior of those friends rushing off to meet the Commander. Just in case. Thanks to them, we were able to send both the Light Blade Unit and its Commander back to the main fortress.”

Ma Gwang-ik had completed its mission.

They’d managed to recover the Light Blade Commander—who had been hiding out in a minor sect in the company of some reclusive heretics—and some survivors of the unit, returning them safely to Ipwang Fortress.

It had been thanks to those from the northern martial world.

Strangers to this land, yet they demonstrated an astonishing grasp of intelligence. They’d even deduced Jeong Yeon-shin’s likely next destination based on his movements in Hangzhou: Mount Wudang.

They’d even said it plainly—stating that they needed to measure the acting Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.

During their search along the Yangtze River for scattered members of the Light Blade Unit, they’d exchanged brief but critical words. They didn’t hesitate to admit they’d turned against the War God of the North.

At the head of them stood a monster among men.

Once the War God’s Left Hand—he had deflected a strike from the Emperor of Gunreung. The imperial court had named him Northern Blade—a high-alert figure of unrivaled prowess.

The untouched mountainside trembled violently.

It was the warhorse of Northern Blade, slamming the ground with ferocious strength. The instant he shifted, a faint ripple of internal energy spread from his back, where a crescent-moon blade was slung.

His aura was uncanny.

And immensely destructive.

Crack-crack-crack-crack-crack—!

Like a lie, the warhorse leapt impossibly high, shattering the air itself like a glass {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} sheet. He was using Void Step, a skill bordering on divine.

Each time its hooves struck the air, a monstrous shockwave slammed into the ground, tearing it asunder.

He was charging straight toward Wudang in a direct line.

This wasn’t a human method of movement.

Shin So-bin’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Whether it was recoil from that impossible Void Step, or a deliberate message from the northern martial world to showcase their preparation—

From beyond the mountain of skeletal branches, something fell from the mounted rider toward Ma Gwang-ik.

Perhaps flung upward by the warhorse’s rebound from the Void Step—its speed was incredible, like an arrow loosed from a divine bow.

“Commander, I’ll get it!”

Shin So-bin soared with Ten Li Light Radiance and snatched it from the air. Immediately, she scanned the cover.

Three characters were written on it:

In midair, she flipped it open.

Every page was packed with text.

Each name was famous across the world. And it seemed they'd even been ranked according to perceived danger.

The words escaped her lips unconsciously.

From bottom to top, the list grew more terrifying—like clouds far above. Shin So-bin activated Heaven-Sight and instantly read the names in reverse.

20. Supreme Elder of Simmuryun – Youngcheon Sword Demon

19. Sect Leader of Cheongseong – Twin-Wall Sword Lord

18. Betrayer from Ten Thousand Images Waterwheel Sect

17. Sect Leader of Hengshan – Blade-Palm Immortal

16. Sect Leader of Jeomchang – Queen of Blades

15. Lord of Mong Inwol – Unobstructed Demon God

14. Coward of the Green Forest Cavalry

13. Sect Leader of Emei – Thunder-Voice Guanyin

12. Sect Leader of Kongtong – Post-Heaven Radiance Master

11. Sect Leader of Hwasan – Sacred Flame Sword Deity

10. Leader of Muryong Sect – Rebellious Overlord of Martial Might

9. Lord of the Hanzhong Martial Alliance – Sword Saint

8. Acting Leader of the Divine Sword Corps – Wild Extinction of the Wastes

The moment she read that last entry, Shin So-bin whipped her head around in the air.

Toward the point where the northern rider had become a mere speck.