Chapter 543: Chapter 543

Mount Wudang’s Shangqing Palace.

Known as the residence of the sect leader of the Wudang Sect.

To the people of the Jianghu—and even to the local civilians who were occasionally allowed to visit the outer Daoist temples—it was a palace among the clouds.

While Wudang was famously hospitable to the common folk, Shangqing Palace was the one place whose access remained strictly limited.

The Dao may not discriminate among people, but the head of Wudang was chosen with utmost care.

The Daoist temple was as vast as the responsibility borne by the current acting sect leader of Wudang.

At this moment, a veil of mist lay over the area like a blanket. The energy within it was clearly thicker than usual.

The palace had been cut off from the outside.

This was due to the Qi Curtains planted along the worn stone walls over generations by Wudang’s past Immortals. These were part of the sublime techniques unique to the Sam-bong lineage—masters of manipulating natural energies—and were as close to Daoist magic as martial arts could get.

It also meant something extremely important was happening. The Qi Curtain had been cast over the very heart of Wudang.

Inside the mist beyond the clouds, the upper echelons of the sect had gathered.

Led by Acting Sect Leader Oak Cliff, elder Daoists with long white beards from the Sage Faction and three members of the Jade Character Sect sat in quiet conversation.

“...My upper dantian detected no falsehood. I doubt any of our long-eared disciples would have sensed any either.”

“The man isn’t one to speak lies. The bloodline of the Ma family of Ipwang has always been that way—if they must debase something, they’ll tear down the other person before they humble themselves. Not with words—by force.”

“Still, the matter is serious. We must confirm it clearly now to prevent future confusion.”

“But that blue Taiji...”

“Taiji is not exclusive to our sect. It is merely one of the many principles studied across all Daoist temples long before Wudang ever existed. We should take time to contemplate.”

The inside of the hall was misty as well. The haze came from the breath of the seasoned Daoist warriors, whose exhaled internal energy naturally formed cloud-like qi.

Many of them didn’t even realize they were releasing it—it was simply part of their being.

But soon, the conversation ceased.

Oak Cliff, who had until now been silently listening, finally spoke.

“To my eyes, it’s genuine.”

His gaze fell to the center table.

Laid across it was a sword.

Its edge was chipped in several places, and much of the blade was rusted.

But the hilt, carved with a pinewood pattern, remained intact. It even retained a faint scent of pine—as if the sword had been gripped and wielded for so long by a peerless swordsman that it had become a sacred relic.

“With its power, I saw the founder, Master Won Young-shin...”

“It cannot be dismissed as mere fantasy. What could be impossible for Sam-bong, the founder who unified the scattered Daoist lineages around Mount Wudang under one name? And now, the most brilliant talent in the land resides here at our main sect. Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin. At this point, nothing is beyond belief.”

A faint glow like starlight shimmered in the eyes of Wudang’s acting sect leader. If one looked deep enough, it could be seen as a fire burning within.

His qi flickered like a clear flame—half the aura of the late Master Jade Sword, half that of the departed Seomye.

“Primordial Eye Immortal.”

The gathered Daoists muttered the honorific softly.

They had all realized Oak Cliff was beginning to step into the realm of the peerless.

One elder of the Sage Faction, his beard thick and long, slowly spoke.

“The Divine Sword Sect Leader must wield his sword from within the heart of the world. Choose carefully. Whether the ripple is large or small, the influence of our sect spreads throughout all under heaven.”

The old man’s voice was slow, but Oak Cliff’s reply was calm and swift.

“This is not a matter of choice, but of acknowledgment. Whether the founder and the Divine Sword Sect’s proxy truly shared a bond—and whether enlightenment passed between them within that connection.”

To accept this truth would be to acknowledge that the strongest sword sect of this generation stood behind Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin.

That was the nature of martial sects: the “gate” and the “branch.” Bonds forged through martial arts often surpassed blood ties, and the lineage of predecessors was deeply honored. That was the essence of the martial world.

The older the sect, the more this held true—and Wudang, founded in the days of the empire’s birth, was the epitome of it.

The sword-bearing Daoists fell silent.

They knew the power Wudang held.

Not just in the martial world, but as a major pillar of Daoism across the land. It was the very reason they had distanced themselves from the capital city of Ipwang Fortress. The same was true for all of the Nine Great Sects.

And in the face of a name like Zhang Sanfeng, which stripped away all sense of worldly realism, even the members of Wudang had no choice but to tread carefully in ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) distinguishing truth from illusion.

Oak Cliff spoke firmly.

“If this Pine-Written Sword truly belonged to the founder, then everything the Divine Sword Sect Leader proxy said is true. But it is beyond our knowledge to determine this conclusively...”

“You mean to call the Daoist disciples?”

A veiled Daoist woman asked. Her long hair spilled between the folds of her robe.

It was Ju Se-hwa of the Zhang Clan.

The “Daoist disciples” referred to those cultivating at Heavenly Lord Peak on Mount Wudang—true ascetics of the Dao.

They did not focus on martial arts but were deeply versed in the hidden ways of the Immortals and countless other esoteric fields. Rumor held that their knowledge rivaled that of the Ipwang Fortress’s Central Bureau itself.

They would be able to uncover the true origin of the ancient sword—perhaps even determine exactly when the pinewood engraving on the hilt was made.

“This is a matter of great importance. It may determine where the strength of our sect will be directed in the days to come. Is there anyone here who would object to the findings of the Daoist disciples?”

Oak Cliff asked, even as Sect Leader Hyun Gong made her way to Mount Zhongnan with the others, implying they needed to decide how to allocate their remaining forces.

The mist within the hall hovered in place.

And the mightiest sword sect under heaven began to rise—without a sound.

The military encampment had not expected a sudden visit from the Divine Sword Sect proxy.

A surge of vitality swept through the dry northern winds. Even the pebbles that had once rolled lifelessly across the dirt bounced away under the pulses of qi from the surrounding experts.

Their shock had been so great that some had momentarily lost control of their internal energy.

“This way, please—this way!”

That was the immediate cry of the man who spotted the Ipwang Pass in Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand, engraved with a golden tree emblem.

“I’ve long heard of your renowned name, but I never imagined you’d grace this place with your presence!”

The man introduced himself as Jeon U-rip.

A middle-aged man with eyes full of steel and a rugged build, clad in tarnished silver armor. He claimed to be the superior officer of General Hyeok Ryeon-mu Jeong—the top military commander who had escorted Wudang’s leader.

In other words, he was the Great Marshal.

The pinnacle of the Ming military.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The only man not of the royal Zhu bloodline who commanded a Grand General of the imperial army.

Originally, the Ming military hierarchy had ended with the Left and Right Marshals of the First Rank. But with famine and the emergence of northern Jianghu powers, new posts had been created long ago.

A golden axe, said to have been personally bestowed by the late Emperor Gunreung, hung at his waist.

Great Marshal Jeon U-rip.

The wieler of Hwangwol, the most revered axe in the land.

Jeong Yeon-shin had only heard of him by name.

Rumor said he once survived a duel after asking for the well-being of the northern War God’s parents. It meant he was a marshal who also fought personally on the frontlines.

Like Jin Myeong-jo of the Divine Sword Division, Jeon U-rip exuded no discernible energy. He was clearly a master of suppressing his presence.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes held a flicker of interest.

I’ve heard he’s a great man. He doesn’t look like the type to act frivolously...

The Great Marshal tucked the Ipwang Pass into his robe and glanced around.

It was another world entirely.

Rows of barracks lined up like a palace complex.

In addition to them, countless lodgings had been built from wood and stone—clearly the residence of martial masters.

The massive training grounds resembled an entire city. The qi here was thicker than in any government outpost, yet the air remained dry and parched.

All manner of martial artists stared intently at Jeong Yeon-shin’s group. Many had a hint of surprise in their eyes, but their gazes were fundamentally dry and restrained. Their temperament was clearly different from that of the masters of the southern lands.

There was no polished or orderly flow of internal energy.

The aura that flowed from them was rough, like a northern blizzard. Yet at the same time, each radiated a uniquely distinct internal cultivation method.

There were martial officers and generals from the military, wandering fighters wielding bizarre and unpredictable weapons, and relatively composed monks and Daoists.

Shin So-bin whispered beside Jeong Yeon-shin.

“The Mount Heng Sect is here. Why are such noble Daoists from the south... all the way out here?”

—Then that group over there... could it be Gongdong? The temperament’s similar but slightly different.

Jeong Yeon-shin asked her through silent transmission.

—If they're dealing with demonic beings, they’re probably stronger. Maybe even more so than the Daoists of Wudang.

It was a method of communication that didn’t require moving the lips. While not as refined as the deep cultivation of Abbot Beomheo or Sect Leader Hyun Gong, it was still effective.

The martial world was full of strange people. They relished public evaluations yet detested being judged. That’s why it was necessary—

The conduct of the Divine Sword Sect Leader.

Just as Jeong Yeon-shin felt content with his own careful handling of the situation, a deep voice buzzed from behind—North Blade had spoken.

[That’s right. The Twelve Sects.]

Daoists in indigo robes stared quietly at the group. They were standing atop the roof of a simply constructed wooden hall. Jeong Yeon-shin guessed they were from the Gongdong Sect—one of the Nine Great Sects.

Their sect leader was said to be the peerless Daoist Master Later-Born Guangchengzi.

With his gaze lowered slightly, Jeong Yeon-shin followed the Great Marshal at a brisk pace.

At one point, the ripple of internal energy from Hwanik Step technique raised an invisible protrusion beneath his feet, but it was silently crushed beneath the hoof of North Blade’s warhorse. The two riders followed Jeong Yeon-shin calmly and without hesitation.

Whether North Blade listened or not, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke in a composed tone.

“The man is not someone whose safety I can guarantee.”

“You mean North Blade?”

Great Marshal Jeon U-rip smiled faintly. It was the same elusive smile Jeong had once seen on the late Emperor Gunreung. Yet, the sharp aura in his eyes was like a drawn sword.

“It’s fine. Truth be told, I’ve been wondering whether it’d be wiser to kill him now—together with you.”

“Those fox-spawn always move in the most uncanny ways. If you saw them for yourself, you'd be surprised. That’s why opportunities are so rare.”

“I’m willing to lend my strength.”

They had entered the largest command tent in the encampment. Ignoring North Blade’s cryptic message, Jeong Yeon-shin sat down beside Shin So-bin without a word.

Meanwhile, Jeon U-rip gestured for his aide to bring tea. Even though a rare and valuable map was spread across the table, he didn’t seem particularly concerned.

To him, the proxy of the Divine Sword Sect Leader was of equal value to state secrets.

A cold gale blew through the tent, but the map remained firmly pinned in place.

Jeon U-rip spoke first.

“Supreme General Hyeok Ryeon-mu Jeong couldn’t keep up with your lightness technique, could he? He’s quick on his feet, and the royal family has great faith in him... but he’s no match for your ‘Ten-Mile Radiance.’”

Suddenly, a piece of advice from Yong Hui-myeong echoed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.

—If you must negotiate through conversation, start with a sincere compliment. If their swordsmanship is garbage, say their footwork is solid. If their face is ugly, say their eyes are intense. It usually works well—and makes it easier to share a drink later.

As it happened, Jeong Yeon-shin had a request of the Great Marshal.

“His tongue was quick.”

“...You mean his speech was impressive?”

Muttering for a moment, Jeon U-rip shifted his gaze to Shin So-bin.

“She’s a comrade from the main fortress.”

“A comrade, you said?”

“She trained in my martial arts, so we work well together. She’s only slightly beneath Lord of Yeui Palace and Azure Dragon Division Leader.”

“That’s hard to believe. The young heir of the Ipwang clan was that skilled?”

Jeon U-rip pressed further.

He already knew, of course—everything about Shin So-bin’s identity and martial prowess. Despite residing in the northernmost edges of Ming territory, he was thoroughly informed about affairs in the south.

The surroundings were quiet.

Only the occasional thunder-like snort of North Blade’s warhorse could be heard outside the tent.

Just as Jeong Yeon-shin was analyzing Jeon U-rip, the Great Marshal was pouring an intense gaze of his own upon the proxy of the Divine Sword Sect Leader.

Jeong Yeon-shin opened his mouth slowly.

“She shares my martial lineage. Naturally, we coordinate well. That’s what passing the Ascension Trial means.”

“And Lord of Yeui Palace and Azure Dragon Division Leader as well?”

“They each studied my footwork and swordwork, respectively. Their martial foundations are deep. So-bin’s understanding of my techniques is even deeper.”

Jeon U-rip smiled faintly.

“So, you’ve come to ask a favor of me. You want me to get them out of the Beijing dungeons.”

Jeong Yeon-shin had no freedom. Not as a proxy of the Divine Sword Sect Leader, nor as an individual.

Because of his high position, any move could be seen as rebellion. The late emperor’s will barred him from leaving the Great Wall. And if he recklessly approached any member of the royal Zhu family, chaos would erupt.

After all, two major division leaders under the Divine Sword Sect were currently imprisoned in Beijing. Jeong Yeon-shin could only act freely if no suspicion of treason existed.

“Regrettably, I’m in the same position. I have no authority down there.”

Jeon U-rip tapped the table with his fingers. His voice turned firm.

“The Beijing nobles are a bit too bold. There’s no way I can extract those two. Not even if you paid the price.”

“No—wait. Time. Yes... if you’re willing to pay with time, that’ll suffice. At a time , to break not one, but two of the nation’s Black Swords would be suicidal. Even those fools in Beijing aren’t so stupid. Just wait. At most, it’ll take a year.”

Isn’t that a generous offer?

Jeon U-rip ended his words with a question.

Suddenly, blue flames burst from the large map on the table, flaring upward and burning through the upper half of the Ming territory before vanishing.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.

“This way is faster.”

“...What do you mean?”

“I was planning to go alone, but if you’d offer assistance, I won’t refuse. Lord of Yeui Palace and Azure Dragon Division Leader work well with me.”

His final words were closer to a mutter, but there wasn’t a single person in the tent who didn’t hear them.

“What exactly are you going to do...?”

The cold northern wind swirling through the tent began to howl.

Sparks of blue flame and charred ash scattered from Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder as they drifted out of the tent.

The day the Great Marshal of the Ming Dynasty met with the proxy of the Divine Sword Sect Leader—

Though no enemy appeared, dozens of alarms echoed across the massive encampment.

By the end of it, countless spirit beasts, messenger birds, and courier horses were racing through the skies and over the land.

There were dozens of them.

Even if something happened along the way, at least one message was guaranteed to get through.

Their destinations: Beijing and Mount Zhongnan.