Chapter 548: Chapter 548

Jeong Yeon-shin first made sure to send Bukdo away.

— I hope you’ll perish alongside the War God.

Not a trace of falsehood had clung to those words. There could be no alliance between them.

Bukdo might be favorable now, but who knew when he’d turn and strike from behind?

More importantly, Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t alone anymore. He had Shin So-bin—who needed to inherit all of his martial arts.

“We’re basically married now.”

Her playful voice echoed from behind.

Jeong Yeon-shin, midway through changing into a rough travel robe, froze.

“What are you talking about?”

He turned his head slightly.

From the other side, still facing away as she changed too, Shin So-bin’s lips barely moved as she replied.

“Our sect already rejects the whole master-disciple relationship nonsense. If I’ve gone and learned the True Verses of Hwan-gang too, I can’t very well start my own lineage, can I? People would call me a thief. That’s what it means to inherit a martial legacy.”

Her deliberately solemn tone carried her usual brightness just beneath the surface.

Jeong Yeon-shin asked as he donned the silver mask he’d brought from the Great Wall.

“Since when do you care what people think?”

“I don’t care if they talk about me.”

As her robe brushed her skin, Shin So-bin’s voice followed.

“But I do care about tarnishing the martial legacy. Every senior I’ve met was the same. Even if we’re not bound as master and disciple, everyone treasures the techniques they’ve refined with their lives.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“This isn’t about you. It’s our pride. I’m already learning them with affection, you know?”

They weren’t formally master and disciple, but in every real sense, they were.

Both were keenly attuned to one another’s energy.

The moment they sensed that the other had finished changing, they turned to face each other lightly.

Shin So-bin now wore a plain gray robe.

She gave him a small smile as she pulled on a featureless mask and draped a heavy, windproof cloak over her figure, concealing her build from prying eyes.

“Even the Tang family wouldn’t marry off their sons or daughters. They either keep them bound to the clan or take sons-in-law. I’m just doing the same—of my own will.”

Though smaller in stature, she now looked every bit the deputy to the acting Sect Leader of the Divine Sword Division. Like a smaller version of Jeong Yeon-shin.

Despite having been raised in a noble household from birth.

Jeong Yeon-shin gazed at her eyes through the mask.

Bold, clear, and jet-black—eyes that held within them not just Ma Gwang-ik but all the warriors of Ipwang Fortress.

After a moment, she shyly averted her gaze.

“Anyway... Do you think I can really use Hwan-gang? Your nephew in Zhongnan could only begin training because he inherited that ghost affinity. He fused demonic energy with the Zhongnan Sect’s Taoist arts.”

Jeong Yeon-shin smiled faintly.

“You picked up the Blood Meridian Verses the moment you heard them. One day you’ll unlock its spiritual might too. With how often we spar and how often you withstand the Melting Purge Flow, sparing a moment here and there won’t be that hard.”

Shin So-bin trailed off for a moment before letting out a soft breath.

“...one hell of a lucky encounter. The other Division Leaders are too busy to stick around you, after all.”

“You’re my lucky encounter.”

Just like the rest of his people from the capital. Jeong Yeon-shin added the words softly.

Shin So-bin didn’t respond. Her head tilted slightly downward, her round crown visible.

What was she thinking?

This girl who had chosen to bury her bones in a martial lineage as if she were one of the Tang clan—what did she truly live for?

Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze to the fortress visible in the distance.

His top disciple had, ever since learning the Zheng family’s core technique, occasionally drifted into strange contemplations.

It was as if she were constantly sensing something, as if she might one day realize on her own that he was destined for a short life—without him ever saying a word.

Come to think of it, people often said cats had preternatural intuition.

He shook his head inwardly.

I’d rather she never figured it out.

Just like that poppy-wearing rogue, lounging somewhere far up north.

Jeong Yeon-shin tapped Shin So-bin lightly on the shoulder and took the lead.

Master and disciple of the Zheng bloodline, cloaked in wind-resistant coats.

Bukdo was gone. Shin So-bin had inherited every verse tied to Hwan-gang. And just now, when the Grand Empress Dowager’s gaze once again brushed past like wind, Jeong Yeon-shin had shown her his letter marked “To the Esteemed Division Leaders.”

Thus was the command that would shake the martial world delivered.

As they walked forward, a massive dust storm rose, billowing with the fortress in the distance.

They stood at the gateway to the northern land.

There were no guards.

Unlike the fortress city of Hocheonseong, which Jeong Yeon-shin had previously brought down, Yukru Fortress was on another scale entirely—yet its massive gates stood abandoned and silent.

All that stirred was the glinting sunlight dancing through the yellow dust-laden air.

Shin So-bin asked, incredulous.

“It feels like they don’t even need sentries.”

Her shoulders, tense until now, finally relaxed slightly.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Yukru Fortress was encircled by impregnable walls and nearly the size of a city. Naturally, this meant warriors of immense power would be gathered within.

Even with Bukdo’s earlier explanations, that fact hadn’t changed.

— The filthiest things in our land are all gathered here.

Jeong Yeon-shin silently passed through the gates.

The aged yellow walls scraped at his vision, battered by either the dry northern winds or the killing intent unleashed by warriors over time.

No warmth remained in the surface of those earthen walls.

“Judging by your soft little accent, I’d say you came from somewhere near Huaguang. What crime did you commit?”

A voice called out beside them—sharp and fast.

The man wore a patchwork of silk scraps like rags, but his martial achievement in Reverse Pulse Return was substantial. Shin So-bin flinched only after he spoke—proof of his skill.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s instincts flared.

Faint traces of energy seeped from the man, just enough to glimpse his depth.

He was clearly skilled at masking his presence, but his prowess still fell short of the Deputy Division Leader or Bukdo.

Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly.

“A Han playing Yao lord in a northern fortress. That’s new.”

The man snorted, and mocking folds formed at either side of his nostrils like the character 八—betraying a sneer beneath his smile.

“Didn’t you know? If you mix with the northern wind, your bloodline doesn’t matter anymore. You’re Yao. You and the girl both.”

“Why? This land doesn’t care about where you’re from like the Ming do down south.”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

With one leg casually bent, he asked again.

“So what crime brought you here? Without a proper answer, you’re not getting in. Or maybe you’ll end up as part of the wall.”

He gestured over his shoulder.

The fortress walls, packed with dried earth—likely filled with human remains.

A fortification spell built of corpses, just as Bukdo had said.

And now a hidden elite appearing from nowhere, standing behind the gate.

A martial master with an opened upper dantian could read deception like a Ming noble.

Yukru Fortress might seem unguarded—but in truth, its inspections were the most thorough in the world.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly sensed a faint trace of movement beside him. Shin So-bin was twitching her fingers slightly, but he couldn’t tell if it was from tension or because she was preparing to draw her weapon.

Even with the acting head of the Divine Sword Division beside her, no one could remain calm in front of a top-tier master.

A northern powerhouse who had achieved the unity of essence, energy, and spirit.

Someone who could kill with a single, overwhelming blow—yet at the same time, could create all kinds of variables through some profoundly unique study.

Like the Lord of Hocheon Fortress, Demon Annihilation Blade, who survived the Second Dragon Assimilation Sword and fled all the way to Yeokluseong.

‘I need to first gauge the martial prowess of this North King. I have to see if there’s any opening to wipe out his followers while dealing with him.’

With eyes void of gleam, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly.

“I killed a Ming official.”

The man immediately lit up with delight.

Those who possessed deep martial attainments had unwavering faith in their own abilities. Even with the power of the upper dantian, he couldn’t sense any falsehood.

Naturally—because it was true.

“You know the rank of the one you killed?”

“Fourth Rank, Prefect.”

The man’s heels, which had been tapping gently in a manner that seemed almost aristocratic, came down to the ground. Perhaps because Jeong Yeon-shin’s demeanor was infinitely close to that of a gentleman, like Yong Hui-myeong, the man appeared genuinely surprised.

“Was the prefect of the Ming race?”

“Seemed like they had some blood mixed in.”

Jeong Yeon-shin recalled a moment from his journey to the Martial Alliance in Hanzhong.

That prefect had taken a dark martial artist as a consort and sacrificed a number of civilians in order to secure the region. Aside from having imprisoned his friend Yu Hyeon, she’d left a mark on his memory.

She might’ve been the first embodiment of chaos he had ever encountered.

Meanwhile, the man clapped his hands and laughed.

Like some degenerate gambler from a seedy tavern—but in this moment, the most rigorous gatekeeping test in the world came to a disappointingly easy end.

Jeong Yeon-shin quietly sent a sound transmission to Shin So-bin.

—Remember. Stealth is the foundation. We are now dark blades. We cannot allow the North Kings or their factions to gather. Only the Divine Sword Division is to assemble.

His transmission bore no traces of qi.

A result of heavy influence from both the former Deputy of the Divine Sword Division and the abbot of Shaolin. The man before them didn’t seem to notice a thing.

“Well, well. Turns out you’re a distinguished guest. I should treat you accordingly. Oh, I’ll treat you very well.”

There was something buried in the force with which he said “very.” Something that hinted at a deep, personal hatred toward the Ming.

He soon guided them through the city gates.

As they passed inside, countless sights unfolded before Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.

Hard to believe, considering the infamous reputation of the North—but a massive market street lay sprawled before them.

On both sides of the wide street sat figures of varying builds, large and small, directly on the bare earth. No stalls, no coverings.

They had brazenly laid out weapons, bones, teacups stained with blood, martial scrolls bound in hide.

There were no trinkets. No sweets. Nothing decorative.

Most of them just sat there, unmoving.

They were generally huge, with faces twisted like whirlpools. Not one of them called out to customers with loud voices.

They simply sat, exuding so much internal heat that the winter air shimmered around them.

They were silent. But the air around their overwhelming frames roared.

Jeong Yeon-shin saw their bare faces up close.

Each was born with a terrifying physique.

Their muscles were one thing, but Jeong could easily imagine how thick and resilient their meridians and blood vessels must be. They were nearly equal to a body trained to 40% proficiency in the Jeong family’s Dynamic Meridians Art.

The impression was different from when he first met Bukdo.

These people weren’t supreme masters.

Yet they still made him think of the Dynamic Meridians Art.

But none of them bared their teeth at Jeong Yeon-shin’s group. Each only cast a brief glance toward the man in the shabby silk robe guiding them.

As if they were acknowledging someone of high status.

“He is a Ming Slayer. Show your respect.”

The man addressed the crowd. All around the market, that word—Ming Slayer—echoed like a heavy murmur. Occasionally, the term Great Warrior could also be heard.

“I’d avoid that side, if I were you. One wrong move and your protective qi might get crushed.”

The man’s tone had shifted to one of remarkable friendliness.

“Northern great warriors can think flexibly, but they’re also brutally straightforward. If their goodwill is rejected, they can turn savage. Some of them might even bring your name to the clan priests.”

Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been listening silently, suddenly asked,

“What would that change?”

“Well... not much, honestly. Maybe someone will miss a strike when fighting you... but who’s to say if it’s the day’s fortune or the Yozoku’s spell-martial arts. Ah!”

The man clapped again and continued.

“I want to take you to see the Lord of Yeokluseong. A major event happened recently, and you may be urgently needed. Things like a gathering of North Kings, a visit from the Lord of North Sea Ice Palace, or the founding of a new Ming Cult branch... Just know that in this barren land, earning your keep isn’t easy. Unlike those leisurely Ming wretches down south, you’ll be moving constantly here.”

“So then... what should I call you? I’m asking the name of a criminal driven out from the southern lands.”

The man smiled broadly as he asked.

But Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t deliberate.

He already had someone he hoped would miss a strike. And all the things the man listed were significant.

He replied nonchalantly.

Shin So-bin added, idly brushing her arm.

At that moment, one of the people sitting in front of the ground stalls let out a low chuckle.

He was a one-armed man wearing a wide-brimmed bamboo hat.