Chapter 568: Chapter 568

A vast, flat land the color of ochre. Unlike the Guanghon Mountain Range, the terrain was closer to a desert—this was the territory of the Divine Warrior, said to have everything, yet it was such a parched and barren wilderness.

A dry gust of sandy wind, whispering faintly, tried to lift the silver mask of the Yaryul King.

Jeong Yeon-shin stared silently ahead.

He saw a familiar face.

A woman bracing herself with a sword planted into the ground.

Her body was completely rigid. There was no need to check further—she had taken massive internal injuries. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say her body had gone numb from how much stamina she had poured out.

Had she lost even the ability to maintain temporary rejuvenation? At that moment, wrinkles slowly formed across her face, though her stubborn lips held the same line as her youthful features and aged skin. Just like her martial cousin, Ma Yeon-jeok.

She might never recover.

The head of Jeomchang Sect who had crossed swords with him at the Huashan Martial Summit.

Impossible to forget. She had ties with his maternal grandfather and carried the title Sword Empress. No one could forget her mysterious rejuvenation technique.

Even though Jeong Yeon-shin had once defeated her at Huashan, he had never actually faced the Sword Empress’s Nine Death-Reversal Blades.

That was before he had acquired the Moonlight Martial Art—he had only overwhelmed her with fast techniques.

Considering that Moonlight Martial Art could now manifest as a world-defying variable, it was hard to believe the sight before him—of the Sword Empress kneeling on one leg.

‘She used the Nine Death-Reversal Blades and still lost?’

If so, this was a serious problem.

As the Northern King Yaryul, he had to worry first about whether his opponent might escape before the fight began.

He had to thoroughly assess—once he revealed his true martial arts, could he utterly annihilate them or not?

If not, he must not reveal them. But paradoxically, the question became whether he could defeat such a formidable opponent without using his true martial arts.

When was the Divine Sword Corps arriving?

What preparations had the Southern Emperor already begun?

To free himself from such concerns, the creation of a new martial technique was essential. Thus, he had been working on a fist-leg hybrid style.

‘No idea if it’ll work on her, though.’

Along with the Southern Emperor and the Northern Saber, she had followed the War God most closely.

For some reason, the Northern Saber hadn’t placed her among the Six Star Lords, but among northern martial artists, none considered the Divine Warrior inferior to them.

First, he had to retrieve the Sword Empress from that woman’s grasp. Even while concealing his true martial arts.

Surely the Divine Warrior couldn’t be in perfect condition either.

How many people in the world could defeat the Jeomchang Sect Leader without dealing any internal damage?

One was likely inside that legged tree, and the other—besides the dead Emperor Gunreung and himself—was known to no one.

That meant they were on equal footing.

Jeong Yeon-shin moved forward without hesitation.

While lost in thought, he had mentally simulated one thousand three hundred and ninety exchanges. He had prepared for every possibility.

Then, the Divine Warrior slowly parted her lips.

A soft, calm voice—like a gentle shower melting a cloud, seeping into the crown of his head.

It loosened not just the thin muscles of his scalp but his meridians and even his mind, as if they were melting.

Anyone with an undertrained upper dantian would’ve collapsed into sleep right then and there, spilling their secrets as if in a dream.

The fight had already begun.

Her voice, even in casual speech, was nearly a supreme sound attack. But Jeong Yeon-shin answered calmly, feigning composure.

“My name is Yaryul. I am the master of the land beneath your feet.”

She shook her head, dressed head-to-toe in robes that caught the sunlight like silken armor.

Jeong Yeon-shin observed her carefully, sunlight pouring over her face from above. He kept moving toward her, slowly but steadily.

‘There’s energy in the light.’

There were only two known peerless masters in the world who could manipulate the radiance of heaven and earth like a weapon.

Eo Ung-gong, one of the Three Imperial High Protectors, and the Divine ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Warrior herself.

If the current leader of Jeomchang had pursued him this far north, it had to be her. But whether the sunlight she wore was a defensive qi or some kind of transformative technique, he couldn’t yet tell.

He’d have to experience it firsthand.

In the next instant, Jeong Yeon-shin was throwing a punch from her flank.

Behind him, residual shadows distorted the air as they surged in sequence.

It was a Shape-Shifting Step that combined Hwanik Steps, the Ten Li Radiant Gallop, and the Wind God’s footwork. Blended together, it became something new.

One strike, thrusting toward her sunlit face.

The air struck by his fist shattered like translucent glass, and a thunderous boom erupted, twisting the ground all around.

The Divine Warrior spun using the Sword Empress as her axis. Her flowing motion drew a graceful arc, black garments fluttering.

It was so smooth and fast, it could be mistaken for a teasing gesture.

A sleeve of pitch black obstructed Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision.

He evaded. A perfect dodge.

The sleeve that brushed past his fist briefly crumpled from the shockwave pressure. Jeong Yeon-shin grabbed it with an indifferent gaze.

An extremely simple yet precisely timed Seizing Grip—Geumna Technique. The air trembled again with thunderous vibrations from his hand.

A colorless wave exploded from his clenched grip.

For a moment, the white light she had wrapped around her body like a robe rippled violently, and Jeong Yeon-shin, still holding onto the sleeve, swept his leg inward like a whip.

The shockwave from the horizontal kick tore across space, obliterating everything in its path.

Naturally, not a sliver of force touched the kneeling Sword Empress beneath them.

In a blink, the ball of his foot smashed into the Divine Warrior’s side. The elastic rebound surged up his leather boot, numbing his ankle.

‘Heaven-Piercing Armor...!’

He ignored it and followed through with the kick.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The explosive strike launched the Divine Warrior like a skipping stone.

Jeong Yeon-shin briefly glanced toward the distant horizon where ocher-colored dust erupted in five consecutive bursts.

Here, every move was an unfinished part of his fist-leg style. His retreating foot still trembled faintly with lingering energy.

Fortunately, since this was new even to its creator, it seemed the Divine Warrior had been caught off-guard once.

And now, the Blue Flame Taiji encircled the area in a faint azure glow.

Jeong Yeon-shin briefly assessed the martial art he was developing in the North. It clearly needed a more systematic foundation—but that wasn’t something he could resolve right now.

What mattered more was the Sword Empress lying at his feet.

Amid the distinct crackling sound of the Southern Vast Taiji, the woman kept her eyes closed.

Her faint breathing felt ominous.

Her fragmented voice called out. In that faint breath of hope, there was a deep undercurrent of affection.

Jeong Yeon-shin could not answer.

The King of Phantom Echoes was not far off.

Of course, checking the Sword Empress’s condition with his energy sense came first. And as expected, the words of this grand elder of the old sect weren’t just emotional murmurs.

“That thief... stole it. The book... that may one day... decide the fate... of the world...”

With that faint murmur, she looked up at him with half-closed eyes—and collapsed on the spot.

Jeong Yeon-shin placed his hand on her back, wondering if the Yaryul King had ever shown such martial passion before. He recalled the key teachings of Jeongga Donggong, built on insomnia, moonlight, and the rhythm of swings.

‘No way to know if recovery’s possible...’

He pressed Light Wheel Qi into the center of her lower back, the Mingmen point, using Jeongga Donggong’s method—then lifted his gaze.

The Divine Warrior was already ten steps away. Her movement reminded him of fog at dawn. Even Jeong Yeon-shin had to admit it was an eerie footwork, like a ghost.

‘Unless it’s a peak-level Open Sect Master, no one can follow that.’

But Jeong Yun-jong, the Drunken Beggar King, had lost his legs to the Southern Emperor.

Even though Eo Ung-gong had helped him escape the Southern Emperor’s domain, no one knew his current whereabouts.

Now, the fastest person in the world had to be the Divine Warrior.

And her martial arts level—squarely within the realm of the Six Star Lords and the Five Heavenly Swords.

“Are you the new Northern King?”

She asked in a luminous voice.

She seemed completely convinced that Yaryul was a member of the Yozoku martial world. Jeong Yeon-shin hid his discomfort as he answered.

“Seems you haven’t heard. Whirling Wind Hollow’s out of your reach, it seems. But don’t act rashly within my domain again.”

“Whirling Wind Hollow? So the Southern Emperor lost?”

She referred to one of the Black Paths’ many sound caves as if it were a mere hobby trail. Her tone and posture were as casual as if she were out for a stroll.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

“I declared war on the Southern Emperor a long time ago.”

Amazingly, there was a ticklish trace of laughter in her retort. It was as if the barren wilderness was being softly dyed with snowy blossoms.

She took another step closer, tilting her head ever so slightly.

“What exactly is going on?”

But Jeong Yeon-shin had no interest in answering the question of someone with no friends. What mattered now was safely getting the Sword Queen out and entering the state of Yunqi Meditation.

That’s when it happened.

“The Dream King wouldn’t be expected to know.”

When had he approached so closely?

Before Jeong Yeon-shin could even turn his head, the man’s voice—one he had heard before in the sound-cave of Whirling Wind Hollow—spread like wind.

“The Yaryul King currently out on civil inspection is indeed the master of this land. He's now the most warlike conquering monarch known on our soil.”

“The Strategist of the War God.”

Jeong Yeon-shin murmured as he looked to the side of Shintu.

An uninvited guest stood within arm’s reach of her. He had arrived with body movement just a fraction slower than hers.

And he was maintaining his presence without emitting even a trace of internal energy, as if that were the natural state.

Jeong Yeon-shin had to look up.

Nine feet tall. He gazed down at Jeong Yeon-shin from a height that surpassed the realm of human.

A truly overwhelming sight.

His arms and legs were thick like steel towers.

Each muscular tendon pulsed as though alive. From his skin, dusky blue waves distorted and flickered like flames, again and again. It had to be Heaven-Piercing Armor.

But despite being the Strategist of the War God—one of the Liu Yuan Star Generals—Mun Gok's demeanor was as refined as a northern scholar.

His face, one of the most savage among the Yozoku Jeong Yeon-shin had ever seen, was at odds with that composed voice.

“There are many sound-caves.”

The monster continued, his voice a deep rumble like an ominous echo rising from a subterranean abyss.

“Shintu is not on good terms with Bukdo, so there’s no channel in the War God’s Whirling Wind Hollow. But I personally have a private sound-cave connection with him. I received his message ahead of time and came to greet you...”

As Mun Gok subtly tilted his enormous head, it felt as if the tone of the thin sand winds had changed.

“Seems I was a step too late. I did have a personal interest in that woman’s body.”

His fingers, thick as rotten branches from an ancient tree, pointed at the Sword Queen.

He must have heard from Shintu about her rejuvenation technique. Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the martial scholars of the Moyong family he had once seen.

Those men, fascinated by all martial disciplines, dissected the inhuman with meticulous observation. Mun Gok’s temperament was identical.

“Of course, I respect the King’s territory. Spoils acquired within a king’s domain rightfully belong to that land’s ruler.”

Mun Gok said that with a smile.

But the way his lips curled felt perilously close to menace. Perhaps it was his massive frame and skin that looked as solid as stone.

Shintu immediately rebuked him.

“Midget. I’m the master of this land.”

“Indeed, the War God did grant Cheonggwang Plain to you. So... I was torn over whose side to take.”

They spoke like old acquaintances.

It was clear to anyone which side Mun Gok would eventually support.

“Oh, and... Chi Geuk, Yeom Jeong, and Cham Mang should be on their way here. The Southern Emperor summoned them. Though it may sound out of place on this soil, the land must remain peaceful until the War God arrives. In short, mediation is needed—between the Yaryul King and the Southern Emperor.”

Jeong Yeon-shin had already encountered the Yozoku subordinates from Yeoklu Fortress.

To them, resolving conflict only came in two forms—life-or-death duels or all-out group warfare. Flesh ripped, bones shattered, and blood burst like crashing waves.

And now, the gaze of the northern martial world had fixed upon Jeong Yeon-shin, the one who had stepped into prominence.

What’s more, the Northern King Cham Mang was originally the Liu Yuan Star General known as Pah Gun, but Bukdo had ousted him and raised Jeong Yeon-shin to the position instead.

Nothing ever went as planned.

Even though he had anticipated everything becoming more difficult.

Jeong Yeon-shin called to Yeoroe, far off in Yeoklu Fortress, as if summoning a cloud above his head.

He was about to be surrounded by five Northern Kings whose might rivaled that of Ipwang Fortress’s Violet Flame rank. It was precaution.

At the same time, he twisted the corner of his mouth beneath his silver mask.

“That’s something a southern scholar would say. And you call yourselves Yozoku?”

He spoke loudly enough to echo through Whirling Wind Hollow.

In the southern martial world, refined and bookish men were mocked as scholars, or “Shennim.”

At that moment, Mun Gok’s brows furrowed noticeably, as if stung. It was likely true he had once studied martial arts or literature in the Ming Dynasty.

It wouldn’t be impossible if he had altered his face in childhood with some transformation technique.

‘Useful information to remember.’

Jeong Yeon-shin thought like the Southern Emperor, the greatest in the North.

Peace is enough for the people.

But those who hold swords instead of plows should never live peacefully. Whether in death or life, they must hold their blades until the end.

Only then will the world be level—that was the philosophy of the Divine Sword Corps of Ipwang Fortress. Many of his seniors had lived—and died—that way.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.

“You’ve called your pieces, so I’ll call mine.”

He was no longer a penniless Northern King with no allies.

Before either Mun Gok or Shintu could respond—

The blue flame band surrounding them blazed even brighter.

And Jeong Yeon-shin stepped up to Shintu with the same movement he’d used to break through his demonic state on Mount Wudang.

Their breaths, born from internal energy control, pressed against each other’s collarbones and the nape beneath the ears.

Perhaps confident in her body movement skills, Shintu looked up at the Yaryul King with amused eyes.

As if daring him to pierce her, she absorbed the blazing sunlight falling from the sky with every pore of her skin.

From the spot where Jeong Yeon-shin had stood, a flicker of distorted energy shimmered—a remnant of his movement technique.

‘It wasn’t a one-strike match, but I misjudged.’

Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand swept down from inside Shintu’s armpit along her forearm.

Pushing her elbow outward, he triggered a reverse-absorption current into her heart, where a light-wheel was spinning. It was instant.

In a flash, his hand struck Shintu’s solar plexus and recoiled with overwhelming suction force.

In his palm dangled the book the Sword Queen had mentioned.

Only then did Shintu realize his true intent. She spun like lightning in place. Truly the world’s finest in body movement technique.

Her body, momentarily tinged with silver, blew Jeong Yeon-shin away in a storm of wind.

The book they had each tried to seize tore in half, unleashing a shockwave like a landslide. For a brief moment, a wave of earth rolled far into the distance.

The vibration of Sword Song that flowed from Jeong Yeon-shin’s long fingers into the wad of paper earlier—had both of them not fortified the book with their near-maximum internal energy, it would have been obliterated.

Instead, it tore cleanly—a signal.

A call coordinated days, or even hundreds of days ago.

Jeong Yeon-shin, like Yong Hui-myeong, spun his robe dramatically and returned to where he had been standing.

“What did you just do?”

Mun Gok asked with a faint smile. A calm rationality seemed to linger in his massive frame.

But Jeong Yeon-shin simply tucked the halved book into his robes.

And then came the response.

From the south, the west, and the southwest between them.

The sounds of glaciers collapsing, a colossal sword cry, and several flags erupting from the ground.