Chapter 572: Chapter 572

The North is an ambiguous land.

At least, to those accustomed to the Ming Empire, it is.

That’s because it was a region relentlessly sealed off by the absolute authorities of the imperial administration—like Emperor Gunreung, the Three Great Generals, and the Three Imperial High Protectors.

In other words, aside from a minuscule number of martial sects with long-standing ties to the imperial family, there was no reason for anyone from the central martial world to cross paths with the northern martial realm.

Internal strife and external threats.

The Ming Empire entrusted the internal trouble—its martial world—to Ipwang Fortress, while it directly faced the northern foreign powers that posed an existential threat to the empire’s survival.

And thus, it became a wall.

The imperial power, once built on uniting countless martial families and major sects, poured all its might into the North, again and again.

To such an extent that the scale of it could be considered the most grandiose chapter in the Ming dynasty’s history.

Naturally, most martial artists in the Ming realm knew very little about the customs, martial arts, dispositions, or power structure of the Yozoku.

That’s why even high-level masters seeking the secret manuals of the Zhongnan Sword Immortal had rushed recklessly into the North.

Because they were painfully ignorant.

Because they lacked a proper sense of scale.

Which is also why, in this moment, the woman who opened her eyes with a hazy focus—the Sword Queen—was utterly shocked by the martial might of the World’s Warrior God.

Not merely because of her overwhelming Bodily God Nerve Technique.

But because everything about her—her monstrous mastery of internal flow, the way she seized control of her opponent’s breathing and dictated the pace of the fight, her godlike distribution of stamina as if she were the very incarnation of the War God in prolonged combat—all of it defied explanation.

Even her silver-gray hair, flowing in long waves beneath the dreamy moonlight, was otherworldly.

And now was no different.

The image reflected in the Sword Queen’s blurred vision—

The Warrior God's figure bloomed and vanished in the air, again and again, like a flower.

Bodily God Nerve Technique – Heaven-Splitting and Fortune-Linking. It was a movement art that instantly flowed in the exact opposite direction the moment an opponent struck. As if her body and inner energy were completely synchronized with the opponent’s.

It was as though the foundational technique of Changing Form, Shifting Position was embedded in every motion. A secret absolute art that united essence, energy, and spirit to allow no lethal blow.

That was why the Warrior God always felt unreachable.

Even if you swung a sword that could split mountains—if it didn’t land, it meant nothing.

She was the Northern War God's dagger.

If war broke out again between the North and Ming, she would be as divine as any god when it came to spearheading the first battle.

The rumors that she freely slipped in and out of the imperial palace in Beijing were likely not false.

The Sword Queen, Geum Seon-seon, felt a swelling sense of daze just remembering the repeated Heaven-Splitting and Fortune-Linking movements.

But the sight before her now was strange.

The young man in the silver mask—who had just moments ago been toyed with, trapped inside the Warrior God’s movements—now showed a bizarre motion.

In the blink of an eye, the hems of both fighters' sleeves fluttered in the same direction.

Rough gray fabric overlapped with the Warrior God’s luminous robe as pure sunlight shimmered across the folds.

As if the masked youth had anticipated the movement of Heaven-Splitting and Fortune-Linking, a war technique devised to face the Ming Empire.

The next moment—BOOM!—an explosive sound rang out from his shoulder.

The Warrior God had struck down with her hand blade—a strike she was said to unleash only once when killing.

A massive fissure raced across the sandy floor, revealing a dark abyss that made the scene resemble a cliff.

Pebbles and sand that shot up into the air twisted the sunlight in their wake.

Yet the masked youth simply flicked off the white sparks as if he were wearing divine armor, and once again melded with the Warrior God's movements as he pursued her.

They were already within the large circle of blue flames.

The Queen of Dreamlike Limbs twitched—ever so slightly.

It was a minute movement, but for a transcendent being who had never once allowed her mind or body to falter before anything, that subtle shift seemed massive. It was as though her flawless composure had been shattered.

Now, the Sword Queen fully raised her head to look at the silver-masked youth.

And she focused on him alone.

A cacophony of roaring sounds filled the space.

Two divine forms crisscrossed like lightning, with a Yozoku giant caught between them.

As if they were weaving a thread around the colossal sovereign at the center—what they saw defied belief, even to their own eyes.

Because that enormous martial master was every bit as monstrous as the Warrior God.

The sound of internal energy coursing through his body resembled a thunderous waterfall, and with a simple tilt of his head, dark blue light carved through the air like a blade.

A literal abyss contained within a single body.

The surrounding atmosphere compressed around him, as if he were the eye of a battlefield typhoon.

Not a strategist, but a body of flesh capable of overwhelming entire military campaigns. His martial power was a strategy unto itself.

No martial artist should be able to survive in that space.

They shouldn’t. It violated the very balance of heaven and earth.

But the silver-masked man moved like one possessed through that death zone—where a single solid hit would mean instant death.

He flowed over the giant Yozoku’s massive shoulders like water, merged with the Warrior God in the air, their movements blending like fluttering petals.

It was almost dreamlike.

‘...That is impossible.’

No one could move like that unless they possessed all three: sensitivity, talent, and knowledge in one body. But such a being didn’t exist.

Even someone who had attained perfect martial mastery would find it impossible to be that familiar with the innermost secrets of the Yozoku elite.

That’s when it happened.

A faint vibration etched itself into the Sword Queen’s soles, and in her mind, words suddenly formed into letters—

—To the Sect Leader of Jeomchang: disappear to a place far enough that you can no longer be seen. If you’re still sitting there idly at this moment, you must move now. Do not interfere with the Divine Sword of Ming any longer.

It was a message sent via Ground Message Transmission—a technique that only those with an extraordinarily sensitive sense could perceive.

Clearly, someone had sent it by shaking the earth’s energy with their force-discharge. But who, when, and from where—it was impossible to tell.

‘The Divine Sword of Ming...?’

Her wrinkled eyes, now made smooth by temporary rejuvenation, widened with realization. She had returned to her youthful state.

She had found an answer she could accept.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A man with strength that defied human limits, who could battle demonic monsters head-on, and possessed a transcendent grasp of the Yozoku’s highest secrets.

Only someone who had carried the weight of time in their body could do that.

Because of the brief rejuvenation, her lips—those of Geum Seon-seon, one of the most mysterious figures in the world—slightly parted.

The Great Hero of the world had arrived.

And he was now showing, with his body of youth, just what kind of being the Divine Sword Corps Commander truly was.

The Sword Queen withdrew from the battlefield.

Though her presence was ragged, she moved quickly. She was the Sect Leader of Jeomchang. Now that she was conscious, it was only natural for such a transcendental martial master to employ her lightness technique.

Such a firm, unhesitating retreat could only be the work of Myungryu Commander Un Sohyeon.

Jeong Yeon-shin felt the very strokes of Commander Un Sohyeon’s handwriting beneath his feet with each step. Even as he moved at breakneck speed, he felt it.

—The Warrior God is strong enough that even the Northern War God yielded ground to her. Her movement alone may be the greatest in the world. But at her core, she is a being who can twist the laws of the universe with a single palm. Guard yourself against her surprise strike. Do not be mesmerized by the mystical Heaven-Splitting and Fortune-Linking.

Her handwriting was dense, delicate, yet carried stark contrasts. It was as if her fingertips were tickling the soles of his feet.

Maybe it was because he liked that feeling—

Even when Mun Gok’s massive fist ripped through space and struck him square in the diaphragm, Jeong Yeon-shin still smiled.

A shockwave that overturned the entire ochre-colored terrain. A wall of sand surged upward like a fortress.

Naturally, the pain from that one punch was monstrous. It sent a quake of destructive force through his entire respiratory system, including his central energy core.

Even the silk-like protective energy robe—True Luminescent Radiance Cloth—was now nearly half its original thickness.

His whole body throbbed.

He had clashed countless times with enemies that even one-on-one were not easy to overcome.

It wasn’t just that he wasn’t fine—every moment, he had been driven to the brink of death. Dozens of internal blood vessels had likely ruptured.

Because Commander Un Sohyeon’s Ground Message Transmission still tickled his feet.

—Now that the Sword Queen is gone, it’s time for you to sprint. Get out of there and command the battlefield. With the Acting Commander’s intuition and the Light-Piercing Sense across Ten Li, you can do it.

The messages continued to arrive, keeping pace with Jeong Yeon-shin.

Part of the resonance was from Light Radiance Pulse Transmission. Inevitably drawn in by the revolution of the luminous wheel surrounding his heart.

Like tributaries returning to the main stream, they deposited themselves into Jeong Yeon-shin in a constant flow, each with a slight time delay.

As though someone had sent timely advice in advance—like Zhuge Liang of Shu during the Three Kingdoms.

It could only be called a union of the Myungryu Divine Secret Technique and the Seomye Martial Vein. A glimmer of admiration flashed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.

—First, ten li southwest of Yeokluseong. The military forces dispatched by Mun Gok of the Liu Yuan Star Generals are blocking the path of Tae Yeom-ryong, a Divine Sword Squad leader. Behind them, Yeom Jeong’s army is advancing. The warriors of the two Star Lords employ techniques that layer shockwaves with war axes and wield the Moon Severing Chain Sickle with lethal precision. Their tactical coordination is preventing two Divine Sword squads from merging. If things continue, our forces may be defeated one by one.

Jeong Yeon-shin twisted his body within a blink.

In that instant, Mun Gok’s meteoric punch and the Warrior God’s long-legged kick swept across from front and behind. Even the aftershock crumpled his rough, unnamed cloak.

But Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t care.

He slammed his foot into the earth.

Behind him, a towering wave of sand surged, and both Mun Gok and the Warrior God vanished silently from their positions, faces calm.

Their divine forms blurred like meteors as they extended outward.

The North belongs to the Northern Kings.

Which means one thing—when a king moves, the entire world changes. Just like now, where the once-quiet wasteland around Tae Yeom-ryong was suddenly filled with men and horses.

To Tae Yeom-ryong, it felt as though the world had changed while he was on his way to reach Jeong Yeon-shin.

The pounding of hooves made the plains tremble.

Hundreds of cavalrymen trained in supreme martial arts surged forward. The sight of their wave-like charge through the vast wilderness was overwhelming.

The Mun Gok Army and the Yeom Jeong Army.

Even among the Yozoku, these martial forces were infamous.

Such is the nature of the northern warriors. When drinking, no one could match their generosity—but when they charged without formation, unified as one, they became the lords of the battlefield.

What kind of entity would be born from a blend of the Yuan dynasty's overwhelming military spirit, the customs and temperament of the Yozoku, the savagery of nomadic raiders, and the aggression of Manchurian martial artists?

A monster, nothing less.

Tae Yeom-ryong was swept up in the charge of elite steeds infused with martial energy.

It had all begun after Jeong Yeon-shin was named the Pah Gun of the Liu Yuan Star Generals—replacing the monstrous former Pah Gun, King Cham Mang, whose wife, the Ice Empress, had been sent to stop him.

All around him, the earth was clouded with dust carrying shards of internal energy.

It was utterly impossible to distinguish heaven from earth.

Yet the Mun Gok Army’s warhorses charged across the plains like dragons, relentless. Every formation became part of one colossal force of divine monsters.

The harsh vibrations and savage cries of the horses forged a thunderclap on the ground. This was war, in every sense of the word.

So Tae Yeom-ryong thought. But in truth, the one truly in trouble was the lone man facing down a cavalry trained in martial arts.

Every time Tae Yeom-ryong burst a horse’s head with a single palm, melting flesh and bone in an instant, another wave of hooves and flashing blue crescent blades came barreling in.

Like a tidal surge of men and steel crashing down from all sides.

It was as if the imperial swordsmanship of the Namgung Clan had transcended its peak and manifested into a tangible force—truly a military might befitting emperors.

“Traitor of ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Ipwang Fortress!”

“Lackey of the Northern King Yaryul!”

Their cries, imbued with internal energy, shook the mind like thunder. It bordered on sound-based attacks. They used even words as weapons for slaughter.

“There is no pride in a warrior who follows a masked traitor! And you still dare call yourself a servant of the Northern King?”

“Return to the North Sea or be torn to pieces and die!”

Every voice was a thunderbolt.

Tae Yeom-ryong muttered to himself amid the hellish chaos. He might actually die here.

“Hold the left flank! Left flank incoming!”

“The Yaryul King is coming! He’s crossing over toward Yeom Jeong’s and Chi Geuk’s side...!”

Voices of varying urgency erupted among the Mun Gok warriors who had surrounded him.

They weren’t even trying to hide their strategy.

At that moment, he even overheard that over a hundred southern martial artists trapped within the Yeom Jeong and Chi Geuk forces were on the verge of being massacred. The attackers were marked with the character "Huang" (Wilderness) on their clothes.

No formation could stand against such unity.

The combination of the Northern Kings’ Whirling Wind Hollow technique and the cavalry martial forces was not just terrifying—it was paralyzing.

‘Looks like they came from the main fortress for a northern conquest. Two full squads, maybe?’

The timing was bad. If they were defeated in pieces, everything would be for nothing.

Tae Yeom-ryong stomped on the crescent blade of a cavalryman and leapt into the air.

Then he turned his head in another direction. Outside the overwhelming pressure of the cavalry’s presence, he had felt a new cluster of energy.

Seven figures in total.

The moment he perceived them, they were already close.

The storm of dust was suddenly blotted out by jet-black robes.

He didn’t need to clearly see their faces to know who they were. They were the masters of the Original Plain’s One-Sword Hall.

In that brief instant, Tae Yeom-ryong hesitated. He knew he couldn't trust the mad young heir of the old Hwangbo Clan.

Should he strike first just to be safe? After all, he was considered a traitor to Ipwang Fortress, now fighting for the Northern King.

‘And I’d have to explain who Yaryul really is. Otherwise, I’ll end up getting killed—or worse, get in their way.’

But that thought went no further.

In the blink of an eye, a woman with pale skin—Bukgung Ah, Lord of Yeouicheon—swept past him and blew apart an entire pair of cavalrymen with a single kick.

The explosive shockwave that followed shattered the air. Blood spattered from the martial trousers clinging to her legs, which had been cut for agile kicks.

Then a middle-aged man’s voice rang out.

“If you’re backing him, then that must be the one.”

Mun Gok Jeonju’s dark artificial leg let out a metallic clunk and vanished. He had already leapt toward Bukgung, stepping across the spears of the Mun Gok Army.

The resulting shock sent five nearby cavalrymen staggering wildly.

Immediately after, Wi Ji-geuk, Lord of the Heavenly Dragon Corps, flew after Mun Gok Jeonju, his face twisted with vicious killing intent, clinging to the artificial leg with a rope.

Yun So-yoo, Lord of the Law Corps, and Hahoe Wi-jin, Lord of the Celestial Forest, pierced directly through the Mun Gok Army without pause.

Blood burst like fireworks in every direction. The sword wind and fist wind of the two clan lords carved twin paths through the blood-stained battlefield.

Even the sandy floor let out a brittle sound as it froze over with sudden moisture.

A gaunt man in black robes glided forward across the icy path like a ghost.

An overwhelming destructive force radiated from both his outstretched hands like a river of dark energy. Every time the cavalry brushed against his semi-transparent aura, their protective qi shattered and they were sent flying.

It was Shin Hwang, Lord of Annihilation—Myeolseom Master.

The mistress of the ice path, Lady Seonmok Cheon So-so, also landed beyond the Mun Gok Army. She clearly had a task to prioritize as a clan lord.

And then, suddenly, space warped in the distance.

The pressure from it was terrifying—so intense that even from hundreds of meters away, it could be felt vividly.

Tae Yeom-ryong’s eyes widened.

‘Mun Gok of the Liu Yuan Star Generals...!’

It happened in an instant.

Without a sound, a massive crater formed in the far plain. A hemispherical pit a hundred meters in diameter—like an invisible meteor had struck.

It was a natural disaster.

The backlash came a heartbeat later.

Creeeeak— Not only did it drown out his hearing, but fierce gales swept in from all directions, kicking up wave after wave of sand. The force pressing against his skin was horrifying.

It was a single punch from the Liu Yuan Star General.

‘That was... martial arts?’

But Tae Yeom-ryong didn’t have time to think further.

In the blink of an eye, the Yaryul King twisted direction dozens of times and streaked across the battlefield, passing by the other clan lords as if they were exchanging turns.

Masked Jeong Yeon-shin vanished toward the opposite side.

Toward another cluster of forces caught between the Yeom Jeong and Chi Geuk Armies—his priority now was clearly regrouping.

The space Jeong Yeon-shin vacated was quickly filled by others. Other robes.

The Seven Clan Lords walked forward toward Mun Gok.

There was no pomp. No arrogance. Only calm, deadly purpose.