Chapter 581: Chapter 581

It turns iron into a divine blade, turns martial arts into divine techniques. It elevates the capabilities of every form and strike.

Ordinarily, it’s something invisible—like pure qi.

But there are exceptions.

Those who have comprehended the ultimate truth and internalized it.

The rare few whose every breath, every twitch of the fingertip, becomes a part of divine martial arts. With the spirituality they’ve cultivated over a lifetime, they can manifest something with clear form.

A warped space governed by martial principles, a blade that cuts through anything, a transcendent ability, or a near-absolute defensive stance...

What happens when such extremes of spirituality clash?

The answer lies on the Northern Clearlight Plains.

A vast stretch like an endless blade between Reverse Flow Castle and Mount Haebing. In its center, a radius of ten li completely white—where such beings had clashed.

To Jin Myeong-jo, it was honestly just absurd.

This space. The role he didn’t deserve. The battle he couldn’t possibly handle.

“I just want to wash my hands of it all and retire.”

Somewhere in that snow-white space, suspended in midair.

He surveyed the chaos below in silence.

Naturally, he was concealed by survival technique Silver Concealment. Even while levitating like a bat with aerial movement arts, no one looked up at him.

Perhaps it was because he was now breathing through every meridian instead of his nose and mouth. Whatever the case—it was a relief. Because down there, there were nothing but monsters.

CRACKCRACKCRACK! FWOOOSH—!

Ten figures collided and immediately scattered, their movements interweaving in dizzying patterns.

With every clash, shockwaves surged high into the air, brushing past Jin Myeong-jo’s hardened expression.

His skin, white as porcelain, had long since gone even paler.

How the hell did they end up brawling with monsters ?

He couldn’t afford to be discovered.

He had to preserve his blood. Being one of the lesser blood spirits, he didn’t have the noble regeneration powers of the aristocrats from the Blood Flame Sect.

Especially now, he was struggling just to maintain the seven crimson night blood-drenched swords he had deployed.

If even a sliver of concentration faltered, the faces of those pompous great masters of the Ming nobility—faces he’d dearly love to smash—would really end up shattered.

By none other than the fist of Mun Gok of the Six Liu Yuan Star Lords.

A massive fist barely missed the sharp nose of Bukgung Ah, the Jade Heaven’s Pearl.

Its shockwave swept like a storm of translucent blades, and as Bukgung Ah twisted her body back, her leg lashed upward like a whip.

Elbow strike bursting with explosive shockwaves.

Her pant leg flared dark blue as it ignited, revealing bare skin. Rebound from her Heavenly Light Armor.

The wave of impact etched spiral patterns in the white sand.

Her leg strength was monstrous—clearly enhanced by elixirs. Perhaps it truly was because she was born of northern royalty.

“If you’re not gonna help, at least don’t get in the way...!”

Jin Myeong-jo nearly clutched his ears—but as always, his body moved opposite his will. He could barely raise a finger connected to the crimson swords.

Even though Bukgung Ah had aimed to dislocate the joints, she failed.

The giant Mun Gok still swung at her with his intact hand.

Understandable. He was the one who tore off Jeong Yeon-shin’s right arm.

Jin Myeong-jo’s crimson eyes shimmered with ghostly fear.

[Silent Night, Watchtower.]

The crimson, shapeless sword in Bukgung Ah’s hand twisted on its own, blocking Mun Gok’s hand blade.

A thunderous explosion followed, and the backlash reverberated straight into Jin Myeong-jo’s skull.

The strike that might’ve flattened Bukgung ah instead sent her bouncing away. Her silhouette vanished, carving a trench into the white sand.

Jin Myeong-jo was flung thirty jang away before he could even curse.

Where he’d just been, a massive female yokai stepped into midair. Her red crescent-moon blade slammed into his afterimage. A stealth strike from the Ten Binding Peaks.

If Guan Yu had been reborn as a yokai, she’d look . No need for a Martial God.

Among them, Yeom Jeong of the Six Liu Yuan Star Lords clicked her tongue at her missed strike.

[That bent sword just now—was that the Heart-Taming Blade realm...? Absurd.]

She murmured to herself.

“I’ll have to kill her first.”

Yeom Jeong bit into a single pellet.

A bloody stench spread.

Her fading aura began to blaze with orange sparks, roiling violently in the air.

The pellet’s contents—a mass of pre-natal qi, formed from the corpses of northern city towers. That was the truth behind the pill.

Meanwhile, Jin Myeong-jo melted back into the air with Silver Concealment once more. He sealed every meridian with blood techniques, desperately hiding. A panicked return to formlessness.

He ground his teeth in secret.

That pellet’s the problem.

It constantly restored Yeom Jeong’s body and energy.

Though it couldn’t recover her spiritual energy in the upper dantian...

Her upper dantian was already monstrously tough on its own, and combined with the pill’s effects, it made her an unrelenting monster.

Unlike Mun Gok, who was growing slightly sluggish, she remained the most fearsome presence here.

In the northern Jianghu, there existed blood-soaked mystics—just as the Ming’s martial world had all manner of miraculous artifacts and great elixirs.

And thanks to her martial art Heaven-Pillar Grand Genesis, unless it was a perfectly linear attack, it lost power before even reaching her.

It was a skill that rendered most of Jianghu’s feints and trick strikes meaningless.

Unless it’s a curved trajectory, there’s no way to knock that pill from her...

Even in this urgency, Jin Myeong-jo felt doubt.

Yeom Jeong suddenly slashed her massive blade outward, and with a thunderous boom, a gaunt old swordsman appeared, sword extended.

The tip of his sword pressed against the edge of her crescent blade. Like some circus trick from a street troupe.

The Sword Saint had caught up to Yeom Jeong in midair, launching a surprise attack. She had responded with a lethal counterstrike, and he had parried it just before impact.

[I like your fighting spirit. But old friend—your sword’s gotten much too light. It can’t hold against me anymore.]

The old swordsman replied in a quiet voice—raw, unlike the echoing sound of Yeom Jeong’s speech.

The Sword Saint’s Heavenly Art of Light had already been expended saving the lives of multiple great lords.

Originally meant to pierce openings in counterattacks—now spent.

Jin Myeong-jo was dizzy.

A world of monsters didn’t suit him.

Down below was another problem.

Mun Gok, with one eye gouged out by Grand Lord Hahoe Wi-jin, exposing a gaping socket.

Despite his massive size, he was the fastest in the sand. Every movement tore through the air with bassy, thundering force.

Every time he released the Nine Floods Qi, the space shook like a tidal wave. The grand lords were swept up in its wake, and no one could withstand his tyrannical advance—The Nine Scholar-Purging Hands.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He swung his massive arms in fifteen forms, creating irresistible shockwaves.

In the midst of it, the protective force fields of both Hahoe Wi-jin and Cheon So-so were shattered again.

Even with slowed movement after using Heavenly Art of Light, he was still this fast.

Jin Myeong-jo’s will resonated through the crimson swords.

The swords near the arms of the two grand lords twisted, cloaked in deep blue flame. They let out eerie slicing sounds—like peeling hide from prey.

Hahoe Wi-jin’s murderous shout echoed.

He and Cheon So-so slipped free of Mun Gok’s arms, spinning like leaves on the wind using Wind God’s Steps. The red mist-like blades in their hands shimmered.

Matching curved slashes struck Mun Gok’s ankles and exploded with force.

A meaningful blow. He staggered slightly. Black-uniformed agents weren’t lacking in any weapon mastery.

But Jin Myeong-jo still had doubts.

Such rotten luck—the great lords of the Ming faction might be the most cursed bastards under heaven. Why the hell were they fighting like madmen? One misstep, one staggered breath, and Mun Gok would rip their throats out.

Is it because the Acting Master was seriously injured?

No other explanation came to mind.

Of course, it wasn’t just the two lords who were enraged.

The always cryptic Lord of the Supreme Pole was now launching full-force attacks, tendons bulging along both arms. He was standing like a crane, braced on the scorched remains of his prosthetic leg atop Mun Gok’s back.

He wasn’t acting like someone known for defensive martial arts. On closer look, every one of his strikes carried that signature Jeong Yeon-shin mentality of swift, decisive battle.

This is bad. Really bad.

Jin Myeong-jo hesitated.

If he retrieved the Crimson Night Ghostblood Swords he’d distributed to the lords, he could join the fight more directly.

But his own martial prowess wasn’t stronger than the seven lords all wielding those shapeless swords. That’s why this situation had formed as it did.

[Old friend, it’s a shame the years have battered you so. In a war called life, what meaning is there in the distinction between trickery and orthodox martial arts?]

At some point, the Sword Saint had been blown outside the white battlefield by a mighty strike from Yeom Jeong.

Bukgung-a’s tough body now creaked visibly with dislocated joints that never had a chance to set.

Elsewhere, Grand Lord Wei Ji-geuk of the Celestial Dragon Lineage was calmly standing mid-battle, channeling his breath. A posture so reckless it could be called possession. He didn’t care whether he lived or died.

Grand Lord Yun So-yu of the Lawful Order was using her sword as a cane.

Her lower spine had been crushed by Mun Gok. She was now holding her bones together with martial energy. It was a miracle she wasn’t already dead.

BOOMBOOMBOOM! CRACKLE—!

As the seven great lords clashed with the two monsters, their afterimages began to deepen. The white sands of the battlefield collapsed beneath them.

The pressure grew heavier and heavier on Jin Myeong-jo and the lords.

They were being pushed back.

Slowly, but unmistakably, the gap in strength widened. Perhaps because Mun Gok and Yeom Jeong were from the same Liu Yuan Star Lords, their coordination was flawless.

[Watchtower, watchtower, watchtower...]

Jin Myeong-jo’s fiery will coursed through the shapeless swords, and a heavy shadow darkened his gaze.

If only we could have divided them...!

Fighting them separately would have been far more manageable.

But now both Yeom Jeong’s Heaven-Pillar Grand Genesis and Mun Gok’s Mencian Iron Resolve had fully unfolded, completely dominating the battlefield. They deflected all misdirects and ranged attacks.

The ceaseless fighting began dragging even the strongest minds into a trance.

No one remembered how many exchanges had passed.

Red spear strikes from the crescent blade and giant fists flashed and vanished. The dark-red waves of sword strikes and shimmering footwork seemed like illusions.

Not just Jin Myeong-jo.

Everyone’s consciousness was sinking.

A red hem flicked across Mun Gok’s face, fluttering through the air.

A figure suddenly dropped onto Mun Gok’s shoulder. Light, as if a noble were out for a casual stroll. It was a movement technique worthy of the world’s highest ranks.

Her long black hair, disheveled yet glossy, flowed like a dream. Her eyes gleamed red like rubies, crazed and beautiful beyond belief.

The same physique as Jeong Yeon-shin.

Could it be the Acting Master?

All the lords thought the same in their blurred vision. Even Jin Myeong-jo was briefly fooled.

Only someone utterly insane and unnaturally gifted could mimic that man’s bone structure.

The black-haired, red-eyed woman muttered down at Mun Gok.

Across the battlefield, the same thought flashed in each of the lords’ minds. Their spiritual centers had been drawn to their utmost limit.

The thought overlapped.

All seven of them moved in unison to surround Mun Gok and Yeom Jeong.

[If you guide your internal energy along that path, a punch will carry desperation. Don’t clench it too tight—just stretch it forward, earnestly. That’s when the second form, Piercing Thunder, begins from your palm.]

Clutching shapeless swords like they were using a hand seal from the Fist of Supreme Silence.

[You must move as if you’re the only one not frozen in time. It’s not that you’re fast—everything else is just slow. Before this fleeting stroll ends, grab something and end it.]

Closing the distance with Five Steps of Radiant Wings.

[Fall between the stepping stones of time. When despair fills your legs, twist your torso—and the wind from your feet will support your spine. Your body becomes a breeze, fleeting as time itself.]

Bodies spun like the prologue of Wind God's Step, unleashing the wave force accumulated through Light Art Convergence.

[Watchtower... what a damn...]

Jin Myeong-jo plummeted from midair just as the Eight Paths of Seomye Martial Lineage bloomed like a great sect’s pedigree.

Even the disasters of heaven—Yeom Jeong and Mun Gok—suddenly leapt back like it was a lie.

Mun Gok, though his shoulder was being pummeled and shattered by the red-cloaked woman’s kicks, retreated all the same.

Jin Myeong-jo landed with a spray of white sand. Around him, a dark mist spread—Silent Night. Just like the name implied, utter quiet.

From the bodies of the lords, the white wave force of Light Art Convergence spread faintly like dawn light.

Like the break of day—or a crimson dusk. In this moment, eight Jeong Yeon-shins stood before the eyes of the Liu Yuan Star Lords.

Yeom Jeong stared and muttered,

[So you grow stronger with time. Looks like the south has birthed its own war arts.]

[No need to invoke Confucius or Mencius, Yeom Jeong. You know full well our strategic value. Even if you win here—if you lose so much as a limb... no.]

Suddenly, Mun Gok grabbed the ankle of the red-cloaked woman—like lightning—and flung her far away.

Blood erupted from his shoulder, though no one here could say how it pierced through his Heavenly ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Armor.

[Seems this armor needs reinforcement. That woman... and you—both need to be marked as high-risk. In any case, that was a good fight.]

He grinned as he spoke his final words.

The two Liu Yuan Star Lords judged the battle like seasoned generals, then vanished.

Jin Myeong-jo, whom Mun Gok had pointed out, stared blankly, lost in grim thought.

The other lords kicked up propulsion bursts under their feet. Though they looked ready to collapse, their killing intent gleamed in their eyes—heights of will sharpened to a razor’s edge.

“No time to stand around. There’s no way those bastards actually retreated for good.”

“We have to track them. And kill them, if we can.”

As Jin Myeong-jo glanced back, he saw seven Jeong Yeon-shins.

And thought to himself: What a nightmare.

But in that instant, all seven great lords and the one sub-captain of the Divine Sword Squad shared the same doubt.

In the brush with life and death, they recalled the martial arts of Seomye.

The themes of time, years, desperation, transience—they struck them anew. It was inevitable.

Why were all the insights like that?

Why did they all pursue short, decisive battles?

There was a time they brushed it off as temperament.

But now, they needed to understand.