Chapter 536: Chapter 536

The Head Master of Wudang.

He had always been as taciturn as the green ridges that surrounded his sect.

Not by blood, but by inheritance of the immortal energy flowing from Mount Wudang itself.

All of them had grown up drinking in the quiet clouds blanketing the mountain slopes, and just living along the timeless current of such life made them worthy of being called immortals.

Their martial arts were beyond measure, even among the masters of the world. Their temperament, even more unfathomable.

That was the common perception of Wudang's Head Masters—and the undeniable truth. For an unfathomably long time, they had been revered as supreme beings cloaked in pristine white mist.

Hyun Gong Zhenin had once been no different.

Until he slipped silently into the madness of possession.

He could no longer be called a Zhenin, a True One. Everyone in the arena knew it.

Right now, while the Maddened Dream Demon pinned to the ground with a sword through his ribs groaned in unbearable agony, Hyun Gong Zhenin looked between the burning Taiji of blue flame encircling him and the disciple who had driven him to the brink of death.

Elder Nodosan’s face was stricken with disbelief.

The Maddened Dream Demon writhed violently.

Both sides of his throat, pale to the point of translucence, were deeply caved in. His scream rang out from the depths of absolute agony.

The eerie and demonic aura typical of his Dream Demon bloodline had vanished. The bamboo hat meant to imitate the attire of the Lord of Celestial Extremes had crumpled behind his head, and he convulsed nonstop.

The Pine Crest Sword had pierced cleanly beneath his ribs.

The Maddened Dream Demon’s hand reached shakily for the hilt, only to fall back again and again. He couldn’t pull it out.

Even as divine energy crackled and scorched his skin.

“...How is he still alive?”

One of the younger Wudang disciples, especially youthful in appearance, muttered under her breath—then quickly fell silent, having realized the answer on her own.

When Essence, Qi, and Spirit reach complete harmony, the body’s internal energy becomes nearly identical to innate primal energy. That is why peak masters possess such stubborn vitality.

Even more so for the Maddened Dream Demon, who had spent a lifetime scheming to drive the Wudang Head Master into possession. Unless it was a truly fatal blow, he couldn’t be killed in a single strike.

There was no way he’d go down easily.

“...No, it’s not that bastard who’s holding out. Jeong Gong made it that way. There’s no such thing as a mistake in the technique of a peerless master.”

The middle-aged Daoist—Wudang's acting Head Master, Jade Cliff Zhenin—spoke with a grim expression, his hand commanding the disciples encircling the open field.

At his faint gesture, the formation of the Wudang Sect’s Seven Thrones Veil the Heavens shifted like water flowing through a shallow gorge.

Over a hundred elite Wudang disciples moved with the same serene grace.

Before anyone noticed, they had smoothly isolated Hyun Gong Zhenin and the Maddened Dream Demon from the northern warhorse figure.

From the warhorse, a deep snort burst forth—its head nearly the height of two men.

It was no mere steed. More like a beast of legend, monstrous in scale, and yet devoted to its master despite the overwhelming power it radiated.

Atop its crude saddle.

The straw-hatted giant slowly lowered his gaze. Even that slight shift sent tremors of presence echoing through the area.

Most of it was from the soft scrape of feet over dirt. A few younger Wudang disciples had subtly adjusted their stance.

Yet Jade Cliff Zhenin’s expression showed no tension. He stood like a boulder embedded in the mountainside, emanating only unshakable strength.

“What business does one who should be facing a nation have here?”

The Northern Saber of the World.

A name that grew heavier the farther north one traveled. Even the higher echelons of the martial world didn’t always sense his presence.

Above countless strongmen stood the imperial army of Ming, which brought order to the land, and the Central Plains itself was already vast beyond imagination.

But for those who had set foot in the northern martial world, things were different.

To the rare few who had seen beyond national borders, Northern Saber was a name of immense influence, one that resonated across the Central Plains.

Among the top-tier martial artists in the world, there were scarcely any whose titles contained the word North. A handful at best.

Perhaps only a few leaders of the Old Sects even recognized the existence of Northern Saber or Northern Authority Under Heaven.

“I know who you are. There’s not a single person who’s experienced the northern martial world who doesn’t know Northern Saber, no matter what your true name may be.”

Jade Cliff Zhenin spoke as he drew upon his Daoist Peach Blossom Force. At his feet, wisps of mist began to swirl in a ring.

[Wudang. You are the same to us.]

The giant of the North replied while lowering his crescent moon blade, his voice still a shockwave tearing through the air.

It had no refinement, no elegance—like a voice weaponized into sound-force. And yet, this time, no one reacted.

There was a reason for that.

Jade Cliff’s gaze rested briefly on the blue Taiji etched into the earth, then flicked toward Jeong Yeon-shin standing calmly in midair.

Then he spoke again. As if he’d never even glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin, he addressed the northern warrior directly.

“I do not know what business brings the northern martial world here.”

“But do not interfere in Wudang’s affairs.”

The words were firm and final.

The straw-hatted giant tilted his head slightly.

His face, swirled in pale qi, remained obscured, but his posture clearly conveyed reason. This was someone capable of rational thought.

[There’s another outsider here. That great warrior from the South... Eight, I mean.]

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. In any case, that violet-robed man from Ipwang Fortress...”

Jade Cliff’s sentence trailed off for a moment, before he concluded in a resolute tone.

“...is not an outsider.”

Then, he turned his head.

What filled his eyes was a single striking image.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A violet-clad youth standing atop the hilt of the Pine Crest Sword—beneath him, the wide spread of the softly flickering Taiji of blue flame.

The Circle of Blue Flame...

It had narrowed to a radius of ten jang.

And yet, the Wudang disciples were lined up around it as though it were part of their formation. Despite this, the dignified pressure typical of Wudang’s formations had not lessened in the slightest.

If anything, there was a subtle sense that they could move freely, unbound by the strict form of the Sword Formation’s coordinated techniques.

Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin.

He had unraveled the mystery of the Taiji in resonance with Wudang’s ultimate techniques. The exact ability remained unclear, but one thing was certain—he had a connection with a Wudang master deeply versed in the sect’s teachings.

The Pine Crest Sword was no exception.

The pine tree carving on the hilt was faint. Not of recent make. But the engraved lines resonated with a familiar trajectory—clearly Wudang’s work.

Jade Cliff Zhenin contemplated all this in a short moment.

Who did he learn from?

It couldn’t have been the disciples of the Un-generation or the Jade-generation. There was no one in Wudang Mountain right now, regardless of age, comparable to Jeong Yeon-shin.

Which meant—at the very least, it was someone of Head Master rank.

And if he had trained with someone long since deceased, it could have been someone even higher.

Even if they were alive, it would be the same.

For a Wudang master of that caliber—one who would rather die than yield to force—the symbolic weight of Jeong Yeon-shin’s training was now incalculably immense.

Someday, without fail.

He would have to ask—cautiously, yet inevitably.

“Which master of Wudang did he learn from...?”

It was of tremendous importance. Not just for the Wudang Sect, but for the state of the world itself. A connection between the one who commands the Divine Sword Corps and the pillar of the Orthodox factions—that alone could shift everything.

Jade Cliff Zhenin folded away the complex tangle of thoughts and gave a brief order.

“The disciples must not permit an outsider’s interference.”

A cold breeze snaked across the ground, brushing against skin and earth alike. In the wake of the clear air, brittle, rust-stained pine needles crumbled to dust.

Wudang stepped forward to block the Northern Saber.

The pressure that surged toward the beast—

For some reason, the giant warhorse shook its dark mane with a sharp toss. From beneath the straw hat, a deep chuckle rumbled out from the Northern Saber.

Still as stoic as ever, but he made no effort to hide his satisfaction within Mount Wudang.

The Northern Saber’s gaze shifted.

[I will not interfere. Do not obstruct my view.]

Jeong Yeon-shin’s opponent for now was the Head Master of Wudang—one who had lost his mind.

Jeong Yeon-shin stood atop the hilt of the Pine Crest Sword, silently looking down. At the Maddened Dream Demon, now coughing up blood with unfocused eyes.

“At this rate, he’ll die soon.”

Even for one with exceptional vitality, unmatched across the land, there were limits. After all, that strike with the Pine Crest Sword had carried a great deal within it.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth.

“If you command me to step down, I will.”

Of course, it was addressed to Hyun Gong Zhenin.

Somehow, the old Daoist beside him had begun to radiate an overwhelming surge of energy. The air had chilled around them, as though storm clouds had been dragged down from the heavens.

There was no question—he was furious.

Why had he let things unfold until now? He could have pushed Jeong Yeon-shin away the moment the sword struck and whisked the demon away.

Hyun Gong Zhenin’s wrinkled lips moved.

“Why did you not strike him down immediately...? You are a commander of Ipwang Fortress—unyielding in what you believe to be right. This child is, by all appearances, a demonic cultivator. And you surely bore ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) resentment toward me. Even without that, you had every reason to kill him.”

“Even to behead him...”

Jeong Yeon-shin continued calmly,

“...it must be after convincing you.”

“This demon has only one value. That he has disturbed the heart of the Head Master of Wudang.”

“And why does that concern you?”

“It is not my concern. But it is the concern of the world.”

The matter between Hyun Gong Zhenin and the Maddened Dream Demon was ultimately a personal conflict between a master and his wayward disciple. But Jeong Yeon-shin was now discussing the fate of the world—right to the Wudang Head Master’s face.

“From what I’ve experienced, possession is like a bog. Had I slain this one without warning, your heart would’ve been dragged further into the depths. That would have been a loss for this country’s people—an entirely different weight.”

Then he added, slowly,

“This also applies to your martial arts...”

“Can one suffer so long from possession and expect their meridians to remain intact? From what I’ve seen, the Head Master of Wudang is on par with the Abbot of Shaolin. But as you are now, you fall short of Grand Master Beomheo. Strictly speaking... you are, at best, half a level beneath him.”

That is how it seems to me.

The moment Jeong Yeon-shin spoke those words, audible gasps rippled through the crowd.

Even the immortals said to live above the clouds could not free themselves from the weight of their sect’s leader.

For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the sharp attention around him like a physical pressure—but forced himself to remain composed.

Such was the burden of adulthood.

He would have preferred the innocence of a child unconcerned with the world, but after breaking through his inner demons, Jeong Yeon-shin had chosen to shoulder the weight of the Divine Sword Corps.

A man loyal to the nation must be prepared to bear rumors and distortions from all.

“You battled me for three days with one arm sealed. Even if Wudang’s martial arts excel in drawn-out engagements, the fact that you lasted beyond a day proves it. You must free yourself from the possession—now.”

Hyun Gong Zhenin said nothing. He simply closed his mouth.

Perhaps, to one of his level, talk of martial prowess was too trivial to bother with.

“And then come with me. Out into the world.”

But Jeong Yeon-shin went on, his tone level and unwavering.

“There are things that must be seen to—prepared for. If you agree to stand with me, I will return this demon’s sanity, and here, I will show you martial arts half a level beyond your own.”

The air around them froze solid.

The acting leader of the Divine Sword Corps had just spoken those words to the Head Master of Wudang.

It was a declaration more explosive than any technique or secret art.

And within that silence, only Jeong Yeon-shin moved.

He slowly raised one hand.

From beneath the mountain ridgeline—

A thunderous sound began to rise from the Sea of Blades below Wudang.

The arrival of the Divine Sword, Thunderclap from Heaven.