Chapter 567: Chapter 567

A king’s life is complicated.

Even the Northern kings—who might seem like tyrants at first glance—each had their own inviolable principles.

They gauged the people's livelihood, managed supply routes, kept an eye on the neighboring kings, mediated disputes among their lieges, and continuously honed their own martial prowess.

For this reason, despite their wild nature, they were monarchs through and through.

In a vast land where warlike rulers, mad with martial obsession, constantly grew stronger and carved out their own domains.

Jeong Yeon-shin now stood in Yeoklu Fortress as a king.

It had originally been taken by the Ice Palace of the North Sea, who placed Tae Yeom-ryong at the front as their great warrior—but now it had been taken back.

It was another place with a different hue of Jianghu.

Jeong Yeon-shin sat on the throne covered with pale wolf fur. He silently gazed down at those below.

A man shouted without hesitation.

He stood at the front of the line gathered before the throne.

A towering martial man, as if carved from iron, holding an enormous axe in one hand.

It was a double-headed axe, fashioned in the distinctive weapon style of the northern Yozoku.

Perhaps he felt Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze settle on the cold blue edge of that axe. The man standing beside him in a ragged but silk-lined robe slightly moved his lips.

—In the North, even in the royal court—the place where the king resides—one may wear weapons. Anyone who forbids it is deemed unfit to be called a Northern King. It is best not to take offense.

It was a whispered message from the Gatekeeper of the North.

His tone had grown more cautious than before. Even though this was someone known to have learned the Heaven-Piercing Armor and the Ten Pillars of Glory directly from the God of War.

But ever since the story spread that Jeong Yeon-shin had torn apart Namje’s Won Yeong-shin—armor and all—everyone had grown far more deferential. The Northern Gatekeeper was no exception.

“State your business.”

At the command of the youth wearing the silver mask of the Yaryul King, the Yozoku man responded at once.

“Teach me martial arts!”

His tone was strange. Perhaps because, unlike those elite masters fluent in the common tongue, this man was not among the strongest in the military camp. Jeong Yeon-shin quietly asked again,

“You seek to learn from me?”

“The War God left, and you arrived! I do not yet know if you are a god or a king—but if you are a god, then surely you will grant us teachings! The War God did!”

The Yozoku warrior holding the double-headed axe spoke loudly and confidently—so boldly that it would be unimaginable in the martial world of the South.

This, too, was likely the ripple effect from Jeong Yeon-shin’s duel with Namje.

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the Northern martial artists lined up behind the man, then rose from his seat.

In that instant, the entire gathering, including the Yozoku warrior, simultaneously took a step back.

It was only a single step—but even the Ming Dynasty's martial military would be overwhelmed in one-on-one combat with him, so they instinctively retreated.

At the same time, the Gatekeeper’s voice echoed in a hushed tone.

—It seems there’s no need to rip their limbs apart...

Jeong Yeon-shin briefly wondered how the Northern warriors perceived his temperament, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he slowly spoke.

“Is everyone here for the same thing? Are there no other grievances or matters you wish to report to your king? No—before that.”

“Are you here to offer tribute?”

His quiet question cast a frigid silence across the Yeoklu Fortress inner court.

A Northern King who had declared war on Namje—his words carried weight. At once, a heavy sense of doubt filled the hall.

“Tribute...? Offer and present...”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Gong (offering), Nap (presentation). Written in blood, perhaps? Must be an important incantation.”

“Is it a blood-sealing formula?”

Jeong Yeon-shin said nothing. Instead, the Han-born Gatekeeper beside him spoke cautiously.

“The Jianghu people here are martial artists, but they also bear military service. They’re part of the martial forces, so you could say they’ve already fulfilled their tribute. Though of course, not all obey the Northern Kings...”

“I will not grant martial arts to these people.”

That was the voice of the Master of the Divine Sword Corps, destined to lead the Northern Expedition.

At once, the massive shoulders of the Yozoku warriors standing before the throne drooped slightly, like a tremor. Meanwhile, the Northern Gatekeeper curled his lips in expected amusement.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Secret techniques are not taken lightly here in the North. In fact, the principle of ‘Do not teach the unworthy’ is upheld more strictly than anywhere else. The God of War was merely... an extreme anomaly.”

“Do not teach the unworthy?”

Jeong Yeon-shin echoed. “Do not teach the unworthy”—meaning, one does not pass down teachings to those lacking in character.

At least, it wasn’t something Northern martial artists—who robbed even their own people—should be saying.

The Gatekeeper lightly shrugged.

“Here, ‘unworthy’ means the weak. A weakling isn’t even human. So then, shall we continue the administrative affairs?”

“They say the King of Dragon Resonance is coming. Let’s inspect the supply lines.”

Jeong Yeon-shin said calmly, ignoring the Northern martial artists cluttered like decoration in Yeoklu Fortress’s inner court.

‘What even are these people?’

At first, he intended to draw inspiration for a new limb-based combat technique from the Yozoku’s physique—but their strangely pure demeanor had long since extinguished that thought.

“O King! A visitor approaches!”

A Yozoku warrior, temporarily acting as gatekeeper, shouted.

Jeong Yeon-shin ignored him.

A chase between transcendents dwelling in the peerless realm was underway.

Two streaks of colorless brilliance tangled above a desolate plain, crashing down with thunderous booms before colliding again.

They blazed across the land like lightning, two trails of afterimages chasing one another endlessly.

Dust exploded in all directions, staining the horizon with a hazy blur.

With each collision, the vast land caved in with a deafening roar.

Blindingly fast footwork, so swift it created its own light, mixed with palm strikes that cracked the air repeatedly. Every sand dune in the path of their sprint was shattered and collapsed.

But in truth, only one person was attacking.

The other merely parried the strikes with an air of annoyance, brushing them aside or stomping them down with her hand.

She had something to protect in her arms. Not once did she strike back.

A woman’s voice echoed softly amid the racing afterimages.

"That book is the only reason you’re still alive. But this is as far as you go. You've stepped onto my land now. A place overflowing with the energy I’ve accumulated."

It was the legendary Divine Thief.

The reply, also a woman’s voice, came as calmly as if speaking with breath alone—at a level where internal force replaced dialogue.

"Looks like you’ve enhanced your strength with some kind of special energy circulation and breath technique."

The one pursuing relentlessly, slowing the Divine Thief’s movement with persistent sword strikes, was the Sect Leader of Jeomchang.

Even amid the thunderous clamor, her voice was clear.

"But what could be more dangerous than a northern Yozoku stealing the secret sword arts of Zhongnan? It could tip the balance of the entire martial world."

Her tone was steady and composed, like that of an old woman—despite sounding like she was in the bloom of youth.

She was the Sword Queen, Geum Seonseon—an absolute in the way of the sword who had lived in the same era as the former Master of the Divine Sword Sect, Ma Yeon-jeok.

In truth, she was old, but in combat, she invoked a temporary rejuvenation—returning her body to youth solely for battle.

"I’ll say it again. Hand over what you stole and leave."

Then came a thick explosion of shockwaves.

The blast swallowed even the afterimages trailing behind, swelling like a transparent tidal wave.

And just like that, the streaks of light that marked their sprint came to a complete halt.

Two women stood revealed.

Both were called queens of sword and shadow body, their ebony and ash-colored hair whipping in the cold wind.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The Sword Queen thrust her sword into the ground like a cane and knelt. Her black hair cascaded like a waterfall.

Behind her stood the Divine Thief, her back turned to the other woman, one hand tucked inside her robes.

"You’re safe. That’s good."

Her voice rang down over the sandy floor, resonating clearly.

She was checking if the sword manual of Zhongnan had been preserved intact.

Her attention was focused entirely on that.

Beneath the crystal sunlight breaking through the parted clouds, the outlines of the two transcendent women were drawn stark in silhouette.

Blood dripped from the Sword Queen’s lips, staining the sand beneath her deep crimson. The pool widened slowly.

Her palm, still gripping the sword, was torn apart, and her insides were wrecked.

The silk-stitched handguards wound tightly around her hands had unraveled into shreds of thread. A clear sign that her Jeomchang Sword Technique couldn’t keep up with the Divine Thief’s speed.

It was rare for superiority between transcendents to be so decisively revealed, but ever since Jeong Yeon-shin, the Wild Annihilator of the Wastelands, this trend had been increasing rapidly.

Geum Seonseon, the Sword Queen, sat quietly in the chilly wind, waiting for death. And then, a face came to her mind.

A bold jawline. Eyes that gleamed with the ferocity of a conqueror.

She had once loved a man who didn’t seem entirely human. A rogue. His deceased wife still lingered in his heart, so Geum Seonseon could only serve as a proper sect leader—nothing more.

That had been enough.

But she quickly filled her mind with thoughts of her disciples. The former Master of the Divine Sword Sect had been a yearning from her youth—nothing more.

Her disciples were a different matter. They were her legacy. Her pride.

Her lips shaped the name of her head disciple.

“That’s right. If you have any last words, tell them to the wind. The northern winds hear everything.”

The Divine Thief’s shadow fell softly over her like silk.

Though her face, once said to rival the beauty of the Cult Master, was veiled by fractured sunlight, her touch was so gentle it raised goosebumps on the dying Sword Queen’s skin.

The shadow-body queen bowed and wrapped her hand around the Sword Queen’s nape. Their contrasting hair tangled like wild blossoms.

She whispered softly.

“Even if I execute you here... the God of War will not blame me.”

The battle had spanned from Zhongnan Mountain to the northern territories, with clash after clash of energy and shockwave.

It had been roughly a quarter of an hour since they entered this land.

If this were any other Northern King’s territory, someone would’ve shown up by now. But this land—Cheonggwang Plain—had long been the Divine Thief’s domain, granted to her by the God of Battle.

It bordered both Yeokluseong and Hocheonseong, making it easy to cross the Great Wall.

Veins of blue surged across the Divine Thief’s hand.

To crush the protective internal energy of a rightful transcendent master like the Sword Queen, immense force was required.

That kind of power, if applied to a sword, could easily split several mountain peaks in half.

“You’re no Northern King.”

The Divine Thief’s lips moved softly. The pure white sunlight shimmered across her mouth.

“This soil—all of it—is mine.”

It was said the North bore no vegetation. The Sword Queen’s hand still gripped her beloved sword, but her blade could not spark any miracle like the sprouting of a seed.

Unlike a farmer surrounded by life, the end for a martial artist was always cold and barren.

The sound of inner force barriers collapsing filled the silent plain.

“This isn’t your land.”

Suddenly, a young man’s voice slammed down upon the earth.

Literally. The pressure within the voice was terrifying.

It crushed the ground beneath the listeners’ feet into a circular depression, turning even tiny pebbles to dust.

It was a crude mimicry of Divine Sword Sect Leader Yong Hui-myeong’s whistle. But no one present could recognize that.

The Sword Queen, her eyes losing focus, slowly raised her head.

“Your land, you say?”

The Divine Thief’s voice escaped her lips, faintly dazed. She had never had anything taken from her. She had always taken whatever she wanted—that was what made her the Divine Thief.

“Seems you don’t know how the world works.”

The voice came from the point where their gazes converged like prison bars.

“This is a civil inspection.”

A youth in plain robes, his silver mask catching the distant sunlight from the horizon, stepped forth.

“This land is already mine. I can come and go as I please. I don’t care who you are—you can’t kill anyone here without my permission.”

It ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) was a declaration of war against the Divine Thief.

While she and the Sword Queen had been moving north, the Conqueror King’s advance had already begun—heating the northern lands like a molten furnace.

Just two days ago, all of Northern Jianghu had acknowledged the name Yaryul, raising it among the Six Star Generals of Liu Yuan under the name of the Broken Army.