Chapter 547: Chapter 547

Jeong Yeon-shin lightly clenched his fist.

It wasn’t even a proper strike—just the beginning motion of the Flame Transformation Fist of Ultimate Nothingness, a technique that spreads one’s inner energy before the blow. Yet even that was enough to burst the entangled strands of wind clinging to the dry grass around him.

At the same time, the prickling sensation of the Grand Empress Dowager’s gaze—though invisible yet undeniably present—shattered and scattered like smoke.

Walking in step beside him, Shin So-bin widened her eyes, each step of hers precise and deliberate.

“Sir Jeong, should I stop using lightness techniques for now?”

“No. The wind’s just a bit stubborn today.”

Jeong Yeon-shin brushed it off with a vague reply.

Shin So-bin observed him closely for a moment, then resumed walking, her movement once again laced with the subtle essence of the Ten Mile Radiance technique.

The hem of her pants briefly shimmered with the trace of the Radiant Ripple, revealing a fleeting glimmer of light.

That nearly imperceptible white mist—those strands of energy—were the culmination of a collaborative breakthrough in propulsion techniques, devised by Jeong Yeon-shin, Yong Hui-myeong, Ma Yeon-jeok, and Shin Cheon-hwa.

With feigned gravity, Shin So-bin clasped her hands behind her back and offered a playful smile.

“I haven’t mastered it fully, but if you ask, I’m sure our Family Head would gladly pass it on.”

“It’s not inner demon syndrome.”

“But you’ve experienced so much on the frontlines. And you know, they say the ones truly suffering don’t even realize they’re unwell.”

“We can stop with that line of thought.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke quietly. The image of himself screaming at the Head Master of Wudang surfaced in his mind.

Come to think of it, he’d even made a drunken fool of himself in front of the late Master Jade Sword upon their first meeting. Of all sects, it was Wudang that had contributed the most to his True Night Movement technique.

I could probably take it even further... Maybe if I blend it with the Radiant Step, the flow might be cleaner.

That was as far as his thoughts went.

Under a sky where moonlight drifted down like flecks of silver upon black wood—

Suddenly, his vision opened wide.

On the far-off horizon, a colossal wall of earth began to emerge.

A truly bizarre structure. Its muddy ochre surface was etched with wave-like patterns that flowed in curving script, reminiscent of some ancient, long-lost language.

From within, an overwhelming sense of presence radiated.

More than just a village—this was a city. A heavily populated, bustling place.

Far beyond the northern strongholds of Hocheonseong and Seulhaegwan. In truth, this was Jeong Yeon-shin’s first time setting foot in a northern city.

[Yukru Fortress. The filthiest scum of our land gather there.]

The voice came from behind, echoing like wind scraping across the plains.

It was Bukdo, seated atop his warhorse.

Beneath the wide brim of his bamboo hat, his distorted features twisted the air around him as he spoke in a steady tone.

[Mostly fugitives from your side of the continent. Wandering Han warriors selling their sword arms for shelter. Cowardly remnants of the Ming Clan, so far gone they can't even claim to stand in the light. That fortress—Yukru—means “expendable cloth” in your tongue. It’s how our people mock those like them: scraps we use and toss aside.]

Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly and asked,

“So why have you stuck with us until now? What’s your real objective? I think it’s about time you said it.”

[I told you. Because of the War God. The rest, you’ll have to discover for yourself as you tread this vast land...]

“If you don’t explain it properly, I’ll cut you down and move on.”

Jeong Yeon-shin knew.

When the Grand Empress Dowager’s gaze swept over him like the wind, Bukdo’s massive hand had twitched ever so slightly.

The man had once been the War God’s left arm.

Even if he didn’t exude malice or deceit now—he was far too dangerous.

And there was no way he could be allowed to remain behind Jeong Yeon-shin’s back indefinitely. As the acting leader of the Divine Sword Sect, his path through the martial world couldn’t allow for such carelessness.

[Despite your elevated position, you can still tell the difference between pride and recklessness. That’s a rare trait in this land—and likely in your Jianghu as well. It’s one of the reasons I chose you.]

Jeong Yeon-shin hadn’t seen someone with such cool perception since the Grand Princess of the Simmuryun faction.

And Bukdo wasn’t just insightful. He had overwhelming martial prowess.

If he refused to reveal his true intentions, Jeong Yeon-shin might have to drive him off here and now.

Shin So-bin, standing nearby, seemed unsure whether she should speak, her lips slightly parted. But this was clearly beyond what she could comprehend.

Jeong Yeon-shin placed his palm on the hilt of Yeoroe. A gesture martial artists often used to signal a warning.

But when the person doing it was the acting leader of the Divine Sword Sect, the message carried an entirely different weight.

Even Bukdo would have to prepare for what came next—no matter that he was known as one of the top monstrous powerhouses of the North.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A massive crescent blade was drawn, unleashing a powerful gust.

Within that gust, imperceptible blade energy spread naturally, carving up the earth beneath it in chaotic spirals.

At the center of those marks—like a mandala inscribed upon the ground—

Bukdo rested his crescent blade diagonally across his mount, gazing down at Jeong Yeon-shin with a slanted stare.

The scale of both beast and rider was monstrous—barely even human.

Northern martial arts.

Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his eyes.

There was something odd about the traces left by that blade energy.

No discernible rhythm. No identifiable strike pattern or trajectory.

It felt like... there were no set forms at all.

Difficult to predict, let alone counter. Even if he was confident in his victory, there was a strange sense that a misstep could still cost him.

It was a feeling he’d never encountered before.

Jeong Yeon-shin wondered—are all northerners ?

Just then, Bukdo muttered,

[This standoff is pointless.]

“I told you—explain your purpose clearly.”

[When the War God returns, I will lead the Six. That is my role. You have the qualities.]

Jeong Yeon-shin already knew what Bukdo was implying.

Regardless of how accurate the man’s judgment was, in martial terms, if Jeong Yeon-shin took five more steps forward from where he stood now, he’d be ranked the greatest in Jianghu.

Jeong Yeon-shin gave a faint smile.

“You’ve misunderstood.”

[Misunderstood what?]

“Ipwang Fortress comes first. Making sure ordinary people can live their lives without being destroyed by thugs—that’s the priority. That’s the path of the Blue-and-White Banner. I never once set out to be the strongest under heaven.”

[Then perhaps you dreamed of being the greatest across time. Given your accomplishments and potential, surely the thought must have crossed your mind.]

“No, it’s more like...”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly. Oddly, the words came easily—perhaps because Shin So-bin was beside him, or maybe because he’d recently overcome his inner demons.

“I figure... no matter which pinnacle it is, I’ll pass it eventually if I keep walking.”

There were just too many noisy bastards along the way. That was how he ended his thought—in a calm, ordinary tone.

Bukdo fell silent for the first time.

Shin So-bin took a quiet breath in—and didn’t let it out for a long while.

She likely knew what kind of monsters roamed the world of martial arts.

Jeong Yeon-shin, naturally, was the one to speak again.

“But more importantly—”

[Say whatever you wish. You can speak freely with me.]

Bukdo’s demeanor shifted ever so slightly.

The man who had kept a careful distance to observe Jeong Yeon-shin now felt closer, a subtle yet unmistakable change.

Jeong Yeon-shin asked him bluntly.

[Your view of martial arts as a tool for the people... it mirrors how the War God was in his youth. I respect you. I hope you’ll perish alongside him.]

Bukdo went a step further—speaking of mutual destruction without hesitation. The warped wind across his face under the wide-brimmed hat almost seemed like a smile.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t bother asking about the man’s past, or why he’d betrayed the War God. That wasn’t the knowledge he needed right now.

“Are there many like you in the North?”

[Very few. However, if strategy is involved... there are more than ten warlords who might try to exploit you or me. The Ming Dynasty that towers over your Jianghu was born from suppressing our land. And the power that clashed against that Ming force at the Great Wall... that’s what we are.]

It made sense that the North was powerful.

Why had the southern lands always been so fractured with sects and martial clans? Because the full might of the Ming Dynasty had been concentrated in the North.

This was beyond the realm of martial sects—it was the scale of nations. Which is why Jeong Yeon-shin’s next question turned elsewhere.

[Those who command entire camps and legions. They’re also called kings. Among them, some revere the War God, others stand against him.]

“Are they unmatched martial masters?”

[Yes. Many great warriors commune through the wind. With mastery of long-range command and unified combat formations, they’ve beheaded countless elite warriors of the Ming. Of course, your side also had some particularly strong individuals and suffered many losses.]

The Northern Kings under the War God’s command.

And the Ming powerhouses who had held them back.

The particularly strong ones...

Jeong Yeon-shin immediately thought of two groups: the Three Supreme Masters of the Imperial Family and the Three Great Generals. The former were legendary, and the latter—he’d heard about them from the late Emperor Gunreung while wearing the violet robe of the Purple Guard.

Had the Lord of Ipwang Fortress not intervened, the Emperor would’ve appointed Jeong Yeon-shin as one of those three generals.

They were the ones who defended the entire Great Wall during the reign of Emperor Gunreung. The masters of the Zhu lineage who followed them reportedly died willingly beneath the northern winds.

— The Three Great Generals are loyal to the bone. Regardless of who claims the throne, they stand at their posts along the wall. Meanwhile, the Three Supreme Masters—though they earned the lofty title of the Triple Bow Guardians of Suryong Palace—still act like men of Jianghu. Since the late emperor’s death, they’ve been endlessly wandering the North. It’s a damn shame, really.

That had been the words of Grand Marshal Jeon U-rip. He’d even said that if Jeong Yeon-shin encountered them, he should bring them back—by force if necessary.

His orders had been absolute.

— Seomye of the Jeong Family, do as you see fit.

It was this very morning that the Grand Empress Dowager’s voice had ridden the wind—an imperial decree granting Jeong Yeon-shin permission to journey north.

He shook off his thoughts.

“So, your Northern Kings also communicate through wind like the Ming warriors. If I make the wrong move... I might end up surrounded by multiple martial titans?”

[Without a doubt. You’ll need to study the terrain carefully. How many camps are nearby, how many Kings are roaming close. Be aware—even in Yukru Fortress ahead, there are already two warlords and one Northern King. One of them is likely the Demon Annihilation Blade you drove out.]

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin was speaking fully as the acting leader of the Divine Sword Sect. Calm, collected—his tone gave no hint of the earlier readiness to drive Bukdo away.

Just as Yong Hui-myeong had swept through the south and dismantled the Heaven’s Thirteen Webs, Jeong Yeon-shin, too, would eventually have to blaze across the North.

And perhaps... very soon.

No matter how perilous this land may be...

It could be the final stop of his long journey through the martial world.

The heterodox sects had already lost much of their power. If the northern threat disappeared as well, the burden of maintaining peace that Ipwang Fortress had long shouldered would finally ease.

Then the Ming Imperial Court’s power could spread across the entire martial realm.

Of course, Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t pacify the North on his own. No one ever had. In truth, his current role was to move undetected—never allowing the Northern Kings to converge on him.

Now, standing before Yukru Fortress—the first true city of the North—

Jeong Yeon-shin felt a sudden wave of fatigue.

If he let his thoughts slip even slightly, it felt like the pressure might crush him.

He was someone destined to influence the fate of a vast empire.

At that moment, Bukdo spoke again.

[You will need my help. Allow me to accompany you. Until the War God returns, I swear not to bring harm to you or your companions.]

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly shook his head.

When he descended from Mount Wudang, he’d already issued the summons—under Ma Gwang-ik’s command—for the Divine Sword Corps.

A direct order to mobilize a large number of warriors newly assigned to his personal command.

The most powerful among the Seventeen Corps.

They would be the first to arrive.

There was no sect in the world that could stop the Divine Sword Corps led by its rightful commander. Not on its own.

Would that hold true in a land so vastly different? On a stage this unfamiliar?

That was why Jeong Yeon-shin placed a light hand on Shin So-bin’s shoulder.

The slightest sliver of concern.

Worry that those under his command might die in vain for a mission born from his role as Sect Leader.

“Division Leader...?”

Shin So-bin looked up at him. That old title slipping out meant she was a little flustered.

“The imperial elites who once held the Great Wall have moved down to Beijing. Civilians will be safer now.”

His fingers brushed the end of her hair, then moved to the bundle slung over her shoulder.

“The Imperial Court has failed in this land. So now it’s time to change shifts.”

He pulled out paper, ink, and brushes—everything needed for correspondence.

Floating each item in the air with subtle manipulation of energy, he began to write slowly, in place.

[Private. To the Esteemed Seniors.]