Chapter 559: Chapter 559

While the masked middle-aged swordsman known as Lord of Hocheonseong had returned to Jeong Yeon-shin’s camp and was quietly wiping Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek’s leather shoes with a piece of cloth—

Geomdan, his already disheveled hair now verging on wild, still sat blankly in place.

Though the boy’s internal energy remained strong and buzzing even after the fierce battle, the fighting spirit had long vanished from his voice.

Meanwhile, the Prince of Chi Geuk wiped the blood from the corner of his lips with his smooth hand and gave the Sword Saint a silent bow.

The pale skin of the Great Warrior of the Dreamlike Body, already ghostly, had become even whiter—but his form still looked as if it had stepped out of a dream. Though he could have kept fighting, he chose restraint.

“Why haven’t you taken the title of Northern King...?”

But he received no answer.

For the time being, the Prince of Chi Geuk would say nothing of merits or sarcasm. At least not for a while.

“...I have far more years ahead of me anyway.”

The words spilled softly from his crimson lips.

And so, the Dreamlike Body’s Great Warrior never spoke of slaying five Divine Sword Corps Heavenly Dragons right in front of the Northern King Yaryul. He remained a sovereign under the Northern King’s banner—and noble.

“Husband, your internal injuries?”

“They’re manageable. Nothing for you to worry about... but don’t come close for now. My mind’s a bit unsettled.”

“You hit your head? Come here.”

It was a conversation between the Lord and Lady of the Ice Palace.

The battle of the Great Warriors had concluded.

But the other Northern Kings showed no sign of tending to their own sovereigns.

The warhorse lying with its head in the lap of the King of Dragon Resonance violently shook its head, its black mane flowing like silk, now gripped firmly in its master’s hand. The Prince of Chi Geuk’s face mask fluttered rapidly, both inside and out.

It was the moment just before the true auras of those who had yet to reveal their full power burst through the ground.

Then came a murmur from the King of Dragon Resonance, followed by a clear response from the King of Chi Geuk.

“Whirling Wind Hollow... so that’s where he entered? Was it truly Yaryul’s voice echoing through?”

The shock circling the arena showed no signs of dying down.

But Jeong Yeon-shin’s attention was completely elsewhere.

There was no formal chamber, yet he could feel it—a region where the Northern Kings of the Demon Realm communicated by wind. Equivalent to the Round Heaven Sword Arena of Ipwang Fortress.

The Sound Cave of the North.

Also known as Whirling Wind Hollow.

A secret martial space built by the Battle God—centerpiece of Northern military strategy—where peerless warriors chosen by the God of War communicated through aural transmission.

It was the very reason Jeong Yeon-shin had refrained from acting recklessly until now.

The Northern Kings who dwelled in Whirling Wind Hollow had threatened him in every way after he conquered Yeokluseong.

Amidst enemies who wielded Unified Martial Power.

Yaryul’s journey through the martial world had stalled because of it. And now, the one at the pinnacle of Whirling Wind Hollow’s gathering was speaking to him—a figure who led the Demon Realm as the foremost of the North.

The Southern Emperor’s voice was calm as ice.

—Northern King Yaryul... welcome to Whirling Wind Hollow.

He showed no surprise at Jeong Yeon-shin’s sudden intrusion. Fitting for the one who once crippled Abbot Beomha of Shaolin.

At once, he attempted ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) to dig into Jeong Yeon-shin’s very roots—basing everything solely on the fact that the Northern King had entered the Sound Cave.

—You may be a member of the Yozoku... or someone chosen by the Battle God... or perhaps a genius unmatched across all ages... or the owner of a rare and sacred artifact.

His voice was like a swirling northern gale. Incredibly low-pitched, naturally drawing the listener’s focus. As if pulling one’s full attention and energy toward him alone.

—I ask you, which one are you?

The resonance of his voice slipped deep into the ears, impossible not to be heard.

If it were an ordinary civilian unaware of the martial world, they might collapse before they even knew what hit them. It was like the voice itself was softly kneading the inside of the listener’s mind.

It was a moment that would make anyone hesitate.

Those who had cultivated their Upper Dantian deeply could tell truth from falsehood with sharp clarity—so long as the speaker was nearby.

What about in Whirling Wind Hollow, the sound-transmission space of the Northern Masters? A Sound Cave that spanned unimaginable distances?

At the very least, Jeong Yeon-shin could not discern the truth or falsehood of the Southern Emperor’s voice. But perhaps those originally permitted entry by the Battle God could.

Then, an old woman spoke.

—Now that woke me right up. How long has it been since we’ve heard a new voice? Sleep’s gone now! Boy, speak whatever’s on your mind.

A firm yet rough voice. It scratched at Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears like a coarse file.

Next came the voice of a middle-aged man.

—Yeomjeong. I fear the conversation may grow muddled. Since Juemun speaks well, shall we leave it to the Southern Emperor?

His manner of speech was smooth. He was clearly from the Northern martial world, yet bore the air of a scholar. Still, he had to be one of the peerless.

However, the old woman called Yeomjeong didn’t seem pleased with his words.

—The Battle God’s strategist, tainted by Bukdo at last. Don’t go slapping stars on me. Fifth among the Seven Stars of Heaven? Even without the Battle God, you’d call me fourth among six? I swear, Bukdo’s ranking scroll is fit only to serve as a southern assassination list!

—I understand your thoughts, Yeomjeong. Please, say no more.

Including the Southern Emperor, three voices spoke within Whirling Wind Hollow. The other Northern Kings remained silent for now, each for their own reasons.

The Southern Emperor, Yeomjeong, and the strategist of the Battle God.

Jeong Yeon-shin quietly sorted through his thoughts, then slowly spoke.

—Are you the Six Star Lords?

The most battle-hardened stars of the Northern martial world.

Of the Seven Stars of the Big Dipper, if you exclude the topmost one, six remain—thus, the Six Star Lords under the Battle God.

The Southern Emperor replied smoothly.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Then the middle-aged strategist of the Battle God added politely.

—In turbulent times, our names became clear upon the heavens. Titles coveted by every Northern King in this land.

Just as five blades had risen amid the chaos, the Northern martial world had designated its symbols under the guidance of Northern Dipper. In a way, it resembled the movements of a nation mindful of public sentiment.

But Jeong Yeon-shin was no longer the boy who once felt overwhelmed by the vastness of the world. He was now the one and only leader of the Divine Sword Corps.

—Do the dogs bark with Unified Martial Power now? he asked the Southern Emperor.

He spoke like the King of Yaryul.

A sudden barrage of exhalations struck Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears like an opera chorus exploding at once.

Though none of the Northern Kings in Whirling Wind Hollow had spoken yet, their internal breaths were filled not only with shock but even admiration. Regardless of their overwhelming presence, not one of them seemed entirely sane.

The King of Dragon Resonance, for one, was clapping.

At that exact moment, the Southern Emperor’s voice rang out.

—The Right Leg of the Beggars’ Sect Ark Lord lay three inches below the knee. The Left Leg—below the thigh, knee included. With this hand, I severed them both. And so, none can now say who in this world is the fastest. Now, I ask you this:

—Why do you care? You, newly crowned Northern King.

The question pierced deep into his mind.

Whatever the other Northern Kings might be thinking, the two currently speaking were the foremost figure of the North and the acting Master of the Divine Sword Corps. Jeong Yeon-shin had to weigh every word.

—That man... the so-called strategist of the Battle God speaks with the diction of a Northern capital noble. Just as I have ties to the South. One of them is Joo Gwang-shin.

That was the plain truth. And thus, it came calmly.

Just as everyone knew “Yaryul” was not his real name, Jeong Yeon-shin had never casually lied. Even as he wrote the ancestral code of the Jeong Family with his small hands, he had done so thinking his mother, Ma Yeon-sang, would be watching.

That’s why he had always taken the righteousness of Ipwang Fortress as natural, and why helping powerless civilians had come so instinctively.

The classics his father, Jeong Ban-ak, hurled at him to uphold the prestige of the landed gentry were simply another face of his mother’s teachings. Likewise, the Jeong Family’s tutor never gave special emphasis to any one book—they were all recited with equal weight.

That was how Jeong Yeon-shin had been shaped.

—So if you truly hung the severed legs of Joo Gwang-shin like trophies on a plaque, as if you’d taken an enemy general’s head...

—Then all your limbs will be cut off, and you will die.

For a moment, Whirling Wind Hollow fell into silence, like the calm before a storm. All the Northern Kings had gone quiet.

The clearing at Mount Guanghon was no different.

The King of Dragon Resonance and the King of Chi Geuk stared at Jeong Yeon-shin. Their appearances distinct—one unified with her steed, the other as transparent as ice—each radiated the unmistakable air of peerless warriors.

The King of Dragon Resonance slowly parted her lips.

“...They said you came from the South. Yet you speak and act like a Yozoku. Now I’m curious about your real face.”

The King of Chi Geuk said nothing in denial.

—Come to think of it.

The moment of stillness created by Jeong Yeon-shin's wind didn't last long. The Southern Emperor’s voice returned, carrying a hint of a chilly smile.

—Chi Geuk and Dragon Resonance vouched that you were King of the Demon Realm’s southern region. That means your Great Warrior must’ve crushed the other Great Warriors of that land.

Then his voice, calm and controlled, swept across the wasteland and bore down on Jeong Yeon-shin.

—So now two beings of Northern King level have suddenly come up from the South. Clearly a natural disaster... hmm. There are more and more clues to your identity. With just a little more time, I’ll be sure of it.

His soft muttering was a threat in itself.

How often does a peerless master completely set aside their towering pride and immediately start analyzing their opponent with such clinical calm? Most are fanatics, driven enough to pierce through life with a single technique.

‘Southern Emperor, Supreme Master of the North.’

Jeong Yeon-shin then sensed the intent of Yeomjeong, the old woman, and the so-called strategist of the Battle God. He didn’t know if the strategist was also one of the Six Star Lords, but each one held terrifying influence.

—Matters that should be decided on the battlefield... you're trying to cover up with idle debate? You show no respect for a Northern King who won a battle among Great Warriors. Then I, too, have no intention of abiding by the laws of the Battle God.

The words of a Divine Sword Corps Master must be like a sword. That was a piece of advice once given to him by Yong Hui-myeong.

And now, as thoughts of the ever-pressing Yeoryeongju surfaced—

Jeong Yeon-shin, a battle-worn veteran who’d seen through the ways of the martial world time and again, instinctively knew how to provoke pride in the strong.

—I’ll now raise the banner of the Southern King of the Demon Realm upon your territory. They say a Northern King is the highest and freest existence—but you, Southern Emperor, should stay sunk deep in place, just like your name. For a martial world that’s lost its will, it is far better to be trampled under my footwork than beneath the hooves of warhorses.

The silence in Whirling Wind Hollow deepened. He had spoken to the Supreme Master of the North like a true king. And in doing so, shattered a tremendous mental burden.

Among the peerless masters of the North—those who revered power and freedom more than any land’s martial artists.

And at the same time, they were powerful men long oppressed by the dignity of the Battle God.

Then came a ripple of laughter.

Voices of the Northern Kings who had until now remained silent.

—Naadam. A festival. Naadam!

—The Battle God’s spirit! That’s enough! Whatever clan you’re truly from, you are one of the Yozoku!

Some Northern Kings spoke in the ancient tongue of the Yuan Dynasty. Others, clearly Yozoku, exhaled like erupting cannons.

Even murmurs about washing themselves in Yaryul’s blood, spoken in the tongue of the Jurchen tribes. It was safe to say the supreme warriors of the world had gathered here.

Beings accustomed to sitting upon thrones.

It was the moment Whirling Wind Hollow split into two factions.

The Southern Emperor’s voice settled like a fog at dawn in Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears.

Jeong Yeon-shin, like Yeoryeongju once had, calmly swept his gaze across the field.

Lord of Hocheonseong looked the part of a loyal retainer. The King of Dragon Resonance wore an expression flushed with excitement, while the King of Chi Geuk remained inscrutable. He had to speak with the Lord of the Ice Palace and Tae Yeom-ryong here. Then, his eyes met the Sword Saint’s, who was quietly watching him.

“Will you be alright?”

The old swordsman asked.

He had overheard every word spoken in Whirling Wind Hollow. With his sensory reach likened to a night sky stretched deep and wide—it was entirely possible.

Jeong Yeon-shin gave only a silent nod.

“Geomdan, the King of Yaryul just declared war on the Southern Emperor. Who knows what will happen to the martial world’s balance now. We have no idea how the other Northern Kings will respond either.”

“King of Chi Geuk, if it’s really come to this, shouldn’t we get the hell out of here?”

The others seemed to realize that the conversation had returned to the King of Dragon Resonance and the Prince of Chi Geuk.

Tae Yeom-ryong mouthed, Are you insane? Lord of Hocheonseong was already glancing down toward the slope of the mountain, while Shin So-bin quietly moved to Jeong Yeon-shin’s side and whispered through sound transmission.

—The Divine Sword Corps is still far away. And the Southern Emperor... he’s the Supreme Master of the North...!

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke, gently clenching his right hand. The veins in his forearm split like lightning, casting a shadow that resembled a divine blade.

In the martial world of the North, where ruthless plundering was the norm... Jeong Yeon-shin was not the only warrior moving by the law of the jungle.

Abbot Beomha had once been victim to it. As had all the countless Wudang disciples lost under Hyun Gong Zhenin. It could happen again at any moment.

“Even so, I’ll ascend.”

The Master of the Divine Sword Corps finished his sentence.