Chapter 533: Chapter 533

Jeong Yeon-shin and Ju Se-hwa sat facing each other. Her lips had just dropped an abrupt question.

“Do you know of the Dream Demon Body?”

Moonlight seeped faintly through the paper-paneled window, but her tone carried no elegance to match such a scene. The question itself had come entirely out of left field.

Jeong Yeon-shin answered immediately.

“You don’t see anything?”

Ju Se-hwa answered plainly. Casual, almost indifferent.

In that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin saw in her the same attitude he’d once shown toward the senile Hyun Gong Zhenin—treating him with polite patience.

A certain wisdom shone through: that one should not speak too sincerely to those who’d lost their minds. The thought soured his mood, though he showed no sign of it.

One way or another, Ju Se-hwa couldn’t see the old master.

Even though he was standing right next to her.

Likewise, the old master had not once looked at her.

Even now, he only shifted his head ever so slightly, as if scanning some landscape beyond the wall. Jeong Yeon-shin caught the movement from the corner of his eye.

“There are those who can attack a person’s upper dantian while that person is asleep. They possess human bodies, but are closer to monsters than men. Their appearances are also unearthly, like the clans of the Bloodflame Cult.”

“The upper dantian of a sleeping person...?”

Jeong Yeon-shin echoed, then murmured quietly. Some kind of demonic art?

“Yes. That’s why they’re called demons. They’re born with techniques that allow them to disturb a person’s dreams. There are only a handful in the world. According to our sect’s records, only Shintu and the Mad Dream Demon are known.”

“He was the disciple who caused our Sect Leader’s deviation... It was a mess. We only realized afterward that he, too, possessed the Dream Demon Body. He committed all that without even demonic qi—just pure clan-based ability.”

Her voice, always so composed, now carried a heavy, compressed weight.

“The title Mad Dream Demon is a name we gave him after stripping him of his Daoist name. He has inherited all of Shintu’s techniques and our Sect Leader’s teachings. He’s a monster. The main threat to our sect—apart from the supernatural terrors beyond the gates.”

Wudang’s deepest crisis was finally laid bare.

But Jeong Yeon-shin remained unconvinced about one part.

“You’re telling me Wudang couldn’t handle one rogue demon, so they gave him a nickname and declared him their primary enemy?”

Sure, even the Divine Sword Corps had warriors whose prowess far exceeded their cultivation. One such was that peony-loving halfwit who never achieved Flower Convergence of the Crown, yet possessed absurd speed and battle intuition. Even Jeong Yeon-shin admitted as much.

If someone like that focused solely on escape, not even a supreme martial master could catch them. The Mad Dream Demon might be just such a person.

“Didn’t you once call me a dull Flower Convergence?”

A voice pierced in from beyond the door—Shin Cheonhwa’s. This time, it didn’t echo like before.

Suddenly, a clean breeze entered with Jeong Yeon-shin’s inhale.

He couldn’t help but wonder: how had she read such a deeply buried thought—faint remnants of memory barely brushing the edge of his mind?

A chill ran down his spine.

Could she have the Dream Demon Body...?

He denied it quickly. But just then, a flash of blue streaked past his vision.

“What Wudang truly couldn’t handle... was not a mere demon.”

Ju Se-hwa’s eyes, too, were glowing white. The fusion of essence, energy, and spirit—rage manifesting as radiant pupils.

“It was our Sect Leader’s heart. Every time we cornered the Mad Dream Demon on Wudang’s slopes and were about to kill him, our efforts were blocked by a single person. Not an outsider—but our own Sect Leader! His martial arts and his authority. Even the decisive will of Master Jade Sword to finish it was stopped—every time.”

Her voice sharpened, emotion rising beneath its crisp surface.

“A bond of teacher and student once formed—he could not sever it. That compassion has now turned to madness. That kindness is Wudang’s burden. And now, it’s compounded by regret for Master Jade Sword.”

“...Demonic deviation is terrifying.”

Jeong Yeon-shin muttered. Ju Se-hwa, a master of Wudang’s internal breathing, flinched—her breath unsteady. [N O V E L I G H T] He ignored the peculiar look in her eyes.

But he couldn’t let her next words go ignored.

“And now, someone bearing the appearance of the Heavenly Pole Sect Leader is within our mountain.”

A sharp blade-wind burst from Jeong Yeon-shin’s body. It was the sword gale of Heart-Extinguishing Qilin, erupting without intent.

The floor and walls of the room cracked and split in all directions. Even the old master by the Songmun Ancient Sword gave him a brief glance.

Ju Se-hwa withstood the pressure head-on and spoke firmly.

“I believe it’s the Mad Dream Demon. He inherited Shintu’s techniques and became a master of disguise and transformation. But the elders in our sect refuse to listen to me. They say the presence feels different.”

Her words brought to Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind a particular sect.

A group that once ruled Hangzhou with nothing but theatricality. Their signature technique: Emptiness-Filled Sovereign Divine Art.

He pressed a palm to his crown—his Baihui acupoint—now clear for the first time in days.

A cold pulse in his mind. The world’s qi stirred a predictive tremor in his upper dantian. The outline became clear.

What if the Mad Dream Demon is part of another group...? What if they’re pouring resources into keeping Hyun Gong Zhenin bound—to intensify his deviation using an impostor who mimics the killer of Master Jade Sword?

A sticky, bottomless malice spread.

The same scent he’d once caught faintly from Yeoryeong’s traces.

The scent of the northern martial world.

“...And the fact that we’re still in a standoff with him, just one man, is so cautious it’s driving me insane.”

Ju Se-hwa’s veil fluttered over her translucent face, breath heavier than before. Jeong Yeon-shin thought—Was she always ?

“Damned fool being a damned fool...”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t sure if those were her words or his. But he didn’t say anything.

He merely shattered another layer of mist in his mind. A lesson in contrast.

His world was growing clearer.

With gratitude, he asked her,

“So you’re telling me to watch out for the Mad Dream Demon?”

Ju Se-hwa’s refined jawline moved.

“Kill him. Even if he reveals his identity only at the last moment—using our Sect Leader as his shield.”

“If it’s you, Sir Jeong... you can pierce our Sect Leader’s sword barrier and sever his head. Once is enough.”

She spoke like a winter wind. In that moment, Ju Se-hwa was no longer a Wudang figure—but royalty of the Ju Clan.

“Our Acting Sect Leader has already given the order. In exchange for entrusting the ‘Heavenly Pole Sect Leader’ to you, Sir Jeong, we will open Wudang’s Heavenly Vault. But I want to go further. Even if he isn’t the real Heavenly Pole Sect Leader—cut him down. I’ll grant you any favor I can...”

Her voice faltered toward the end. Perhaps because her mind, like most nobles’, had been raised to think of alliances only in terms of marriage pacts.

Jeong Yeon-shin raised an eyebrow.

Wudang’s Heavenly Vault.

As famed as Shaolin’s Sutra Pavilion...

They said it held countless rare and forbidden martial techniques—including Tenfold Seal and the Yang Intent Divine Art. An offer hard for anyone to refuse.

“After I kill him, what then? Am I to bear the wrath of your Sect Leader with my whole body?”

Ju Se-hwa fell silent.

There was nothing more to say. That was the answer.

“...Which direction? I can’t sense any energy flow.”

“Our sect has sealed off all qi waves with a supreme formation. It’s about seventeen li southwest of here—in a place called Sangcheong Hall, that’s where the standoff is taking place...”

She looked stunned. As if she couldn’t believe the words, despite being the one who had suggested it.

Transcendent Immortal Sword.

The character "Je" here meant edge, not emperor. An immortal in human form—hailed as the grandmaster of Daoist martial teachings across the central plains.

It was said he could wield swordsmanship longer than anyone in the world. Because the natural qi of heaven and earth favored him.

No wonder they called him the world’s greatest mad swordsman.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head inwardly, recalling the faces of the Five Heavenly Swords. At least two others could match that title, not counting himself and Yongga. The one in question must be the Mad Sword of the World.

Thunder rolled faintly in the distance.

The walls of the room they sat in trembled with a soft crackling sound. Ju Se-hwa’s expression changed drastically.

The formation Wudang had laid to conceal their vulnerabilities—shattered entirely.

It could only mean one of two things.

Either the one they were surrounding truly was the Heavenly Pole Sect Leader,

Or Hyun Gong Zhenin had appeared, sensing the danger to his disciple.

Another tremor, like an earthquake.

Something massive had erupted within the world’s foremost sword sect.

Jeong Yeon-shin could feel countless presences rising from every peak.

Even the hermits hidden deep in the mountains—Wudang’s masters, like stars nestled in the cliffs—seemed on the verge of mobilization.

Then slowly closed his eyes, only to open them again. With care, he pushed aside the stone box he had brought from Ipwang Fortress.

The head of Master Jade Sword.

It belonged in the arms of Wudang’s Sect Leader.

He turned his head slowly—to Ju Se-hwa’s left.

Where his gaze landed—

His gray robe, long dirtied with time, hung loose. The greatest swordsman in all of history.

The ancient, unbelievable master.

Before he could even take in the full sight, his mind rang with the sound of shattering glass. Conflicting sensations surged—sharp pain and cleansing clarity at once.

As Jeong Yeon-shin murmured those words—

The sound of the old master turning toward him. The hem of his robe stirred ever so faintly.

The ancient immortal simply took one small step, hands still clasped behind his back. A faint scent of pine filled the air.

This time, even Ju Se-hwa noticed.

A rare voice of surprise escaped her lips.

Jeong Yeon-shin and the old master locked eyes.

Sambong Zhenren smiled faintly.

And Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind flooded with blazing clouds.

Here on Mount Wudang...

Another bolt of pain like a bomb exploding inside his skull. A crack ran through his consciousness. He felt it might shatter completely.

...I have to become stronger. Stronger than anyone.

He did not look away. On the contrary—he struck both corners of his own eyes in a flash, striking the pressure points to keep them open.

Even if it meant going blind right here, he would become stronger than the Heavenly Pole Sect Leader.

The motion carried two meanings.

It was the defiance of an eighteen-year-old who had already tasted despair more than once. And it was the responsibility of the Acting Captain of the Divine Sword Corps.

Two forces—opposing yet entwined like a circle—wound together as one. Like every human life, whether long or short.

An immense surge of will burst from his upper dantian and struck against Sambong Zhenren’s entire body. The air in the room thrummed and trembled.

At the same time, a massive circle began to burn into the floor around him, sparking with bright blue embers. Like friction between life and death.

Startled, Ju Se-hwa sprang to her feet and stepped back.

It finished forming in a flash.

Ash fluttered softly in all directions. The smell of burning overtook the scent of pine.

Ten full breaths passed.

It felt like an eternity.

And once everything settled—

A deep confusion shadowed Ju Se-hwa’s face. What on earth had just happened? What she saw in that moment was nothing short of strange.

The Acting Captain of the Divine Sword Corps spoke. His voice barely above a whisper.

“No matter who waits below.”

Jeong Yeon-shin sat in lotus posture, red blood tears streaming from both eyes.

Around him—etched into the floor of that quiet room—was a symbol.

It wasn’t just ash or the scent of burning.

It was a scorched Tai Chi.