Chapter 588: Chapter 588

It was a plain filled with white light.

Tae Yeom-ryong, stabbed by a sword, lay sprawled out in a large X shape, while four black garments whipped through the air, surrounding Jeong Yeon-shin.

All of their long robes were streaked with a faint ochre dust. Traces of desperate footwork and urgent lightness technique.

Master Cheongmyeong of Bright Wing.

Master Hak So-seon of the Radiant Blade Squad.

Master Han Cheol-mok of Changcheon.

Suncheon Lord Namgung Hwa-shin.

People who never should’ve gathered here had come together—and yet Jeong Yeon-shin, the one who’d issued the summons, stood there blankly.

The Masters’ refined internal techniques were already scanning the traces of divine techniques imprinted on the young commander’s body.

How many times had he been struck by punches backed with overwhelming kinetic force? How many times had he been trampled by footwork that should be impossible, stretching out at speeds beyond comprehension? How many times had he crossed vast distances, again and again? And how deeply had the attacks of the North’s strongest warrior ravaged him inside and out?

This was the Demonic Realm. There was no one to trust.

The Masters would have to prescribe their own treatments. Even crude medical methods would have to suffice in stabilizing Jeong Yeon-shin. They could not expect to find a divine physician in the Northern lands.

Even if they went through the trouble of finding one, who’s to say that physician wouldn’t stab a blade instead of a needle?

So the Masters took careful note of Jeong Yeon-shin’s battered form.

His dark violet robes still faintly wrinkled all over, his sunken side, and wounds leaking blood in every shape and form.

Master Hak So-seon let out a dry chuckle.

His entire body was a record of battles with transcendent beings. Not just from the Jianghu, but against warriors who moved the world on an imperial scale—the Six Original Star Lords.

At that moment, not only the Masters, but hundreds of blue-ranked elites were staring at Jeong Yeon-shin. Not a single one among them was ordinary—every one a martial artist of the world’s most elite sect.

“So, in the end, you’ve come this far.”

“And at just eighteen years old.”

“Loosen the restraints on his Yongcheon Acupoint. No matter how monstrous the Yao are, they can’t recklessly throw out alternate voids again and again.”

From this moment on, the title “Acting Master” would disappear from the minds of Ipwang’s elite. It was inevitable, given the sight before them.

Soon, Hak So-seon nodded.

“...That’s enough. Let’s gather him up.”

She did not take her eyes off Jeong Yeon-shin’s face, seeing it for the first time today.

Her gaze seemed to be tracing something. Even if the young commander were conscious, she would have acted no differently. That was the kind of person the Master of the Radiant Blade Squad was.

“An extraordinary trace...”

Master Han Cheol-mok of Changcheon stepped forward, reaching to lift Jeong Yeon-shin in his arms.

Meanwhile, Namgung Hwa-shin pulled the Divine Sword Corps’ flag—Jeong Yeon-shin’s symbol—from the ground with a heavy crack.

At that moment, another figure in black pushed through the blue ranks and approached them. A black robe draped carelessly over a blue martial uniform.

A young man with a black headband stained with blood wrapped around his forehead. His features were bold and hearty, yet his body carried a faint scent of blood.

This was Hуeon Won-chang, temporary Master of Blood Support.

He had spent time relaying telepathic messages to the blue-ranked warriors to reorganize the lines—only now did he arrive. The other Masters had left command of their subordinates to their lieutenants.

Approaching the Masters, Hуeon Won-chang glanced at Namgung Hwa-shin’s Divine Sword flag and spoke. But no response came.

Hуeon Won-chang tilted his head slightly, and carefully picked up the bloodied body at his feet.

It was not Jeong Yeon-shin.

It was a much older man. The Sword Saint, Hyeon So-baek, who had saved Jeong Yeon-shin and collapsed. His pulse was faint, barely detectable.

“I thought you were all focused on Jeong Gong, but you went ahead and sealed his acupoints. It won’t last long, but...”

Hуeon Won-chang murmured. He’d realized the senior black-cloaked warriors had struck Hyeon So-baek’s pressure points with internal energy.

Cheongmyeong of Bright Wing, who had been staring intently at Jeong Yeon-shin, finally turned to Hуeon Won-chang.

The corners of Cheongmyeong’s mouth—usually smiling—had fallen. It was a rare, cold expression.

“What’s wrong? You’re not even looking.”

Hуeon Won-chang replied casually.

“If there’s no one to stab or cut, it’s a waste to shorten my lifespan. The Seven Pillar Forbidden Acupoint Technique only matters if the opponent is in front of me.”

He meant he might unconsciously release the forbidden death-sealing technique embedded in his body again.

And that meant Hуeon Won-chang was dangerously close to entering the realm of Unity of Essence, Qi, and Spirit.

For one’s inner energy to move into a specific pattern just from emotional agitation—that was impossible unless one was standing at the threshold of ultimate integration.

Meanwhile, Yong Hui-myeong was still leisurely surveying his subordinates. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

He murmured, sounding somewhat # Nоvеlight # exasperated, and then dramatically flicked his sleeve.

“Let’s hear some explanation. What on earth was the reason and nerve for all this?”

A powerful palm wind struck the back of Jeong Yeon-shin’s head, directly at the crown.

Immediately, Cheongmyeong, Hуeon Won-chang, and even Master Han Cheol-mok all turned their heads in alarm—but Yong Hui-myeong only shrugged once at their stares.

“Don’t look at me like that. He asked me to hit him.”

Then he muttered, almost to himself, Who’s the real Master here...

Focus returned to Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.

It was thanks to a divine palm technique containing spiritual resonance—and because he remembered the weight of Yong Hui-myeong’s Taerei Palm technique down to his very bones.

A strike he had once received while testing protective internal energy.

Words spilled from Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips in unconsciousness—and stopped, as if it were a lie.

He had become aware of the eyes watching him.

The faces of his allies from home were reflected like mirrors in his pitch-black eyes.

So many, his eyes could barely contain them.

And then, faintly, his bloodied lips twitched upward.

But only for a moment.

“...The Sword Saint, the elder...?”

He asked in a broken voice.

The reply came from Hуeon Won-chang, who still held the elderly swordsman in his arms.

“His breath is terribly faint. He may... pass soon. Judging from the pulse, it’ll be decided within three days.”

Hуeon Won-chang had become acquainted with the Sword Saint during the Murim Alliance Summit in Hanzhong. His voice was naturally grave.

For the first time since the battle on Cheonggwang Plain, Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyelashes—until then never closed—fell long and low.

But he couldn’t stay like that long.

Yong Hui-myeong’s strike to the crown had only been a temporary measure. A jolt to bring fleeting clarity.

Even Jeong Yeon-shin could barely hold on to consciousness.

“...Ten breaths from now, I’ll lose consciousness again. But... I cannot return to Yeokluseong while collapsed. I must always be perfect. Help me appear to walk on my own.”

Instead of explaining what had happened, he gave instructions as the leader of a sect.

“And since I must remain by the elder’s side, provide me with every divine pill and miraculous medicine that can hasten my recovery. Tell So-bin to transcribe the formulas of Jeongga Donggong. Deliver that too...”

That was as far as he got.

The light vanished from Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes once again. He was completely unconscious.

He was the Master of the Divine Sword Corps.

Yong Hui-myeong, whose entire body flickered like a trembling cloud, finally let out a laugh.

A vast city built beside the endless stretch of Cheonggwang Plain, surrounded by pale, swirling sandstorms.

In terms of size, it ranked at the tail end of the top ten cities in the Demon Realm. But now, it was indisputably under the dominion of the Yaryul King.

Many had their eyes on it.

North of the Great Wall was a harsh land. Water was scarce, and the ground split open from dryness, but the joy from life-and-death duels and conquest had soaked the barren land in roars of triumph.

In that same vein, Jeong Yeon-shin had drawn attention. Hungry powerhouses expressed ambition toward the forces of the Yaryul King.

From warlords who did not serve a king but had formed their own armies, to the northern kings who were or were not affiliated with the Whirlwind Command.

Not everyone wanted to conquer.

There were many other things to gain. The girl rumored to be the disciple of the Yaryul King, the great warrior known as the Sword Beneath the Night Sky, the thunder-summoning Fist Technique—any of these, if unraveled or obtained, promised immense satisfaction and fame. It was the Demon Realm in the truest sense: the most warlike land.

And now, the great war that broke out on Cheonggwang Plain.

It was so massive that even the Six Origin Clans had joined the fray. Naturally, it could be observed from Yeokluseong as well, and it appeared all the clearer to those strong enough to refine secret techniques.

Even the ramparts of Yeokluseong were no exception.

“No doubt about it. Those who achieved victory on Cheonggwang Plain... the tides of the world will shift from there, in many directions.”

The man who had been staring intently toward the horizon with several soldiers slowly muttered. Then he added a curse. Damn it.

A middle-aged man clad in a tattered silk robe.

A northern gatekeeper.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He was the one who had once guaranteed the status of the Yaryul King and his disciple. Having come from Ming lands long ago, he bore a short name unlike typical northerners.

A man from Fuzhou in Fujian, from far south of the Yangtze.

His martial arts lineage was the Southern Wave Fist Sect. Literally, fists riding the waves of the southern seas. It was also the name of his sect.

Before arriving in the Demon Realm, he had lived long as a wandering knight. Until the pirates plaguing the eastern edge of Fujian had slowly but surely disappeared.

There had been many twists in his life.

By chance, swept up in the movements of the Heavenly Eye, he entered a village of the Myeong clan, but upon witnessing something he should never have seen, he had been forcibly cast out.

In the end, he came north and shared his story only with the God of War.

—You too are a son of this land.

That had been the God of War’s reply.

He never imagined he would become hostile with the Six Origin Clans. He had merely been swept up by the grand flow, and that torrent's name was Yaryul.

“A retreating Chi Geuk army can be seen at the edge of the plains. Chi Geuk Prince Consort... that bastard never gets caught in the current. Now that the Slaughter Ghost of Heavenly Dragon Unit is here, he’ll be dead soon enough...”

Many nodded at Geum Jong-o’s mutter.

They were northern martial artists who filled the walls of Yeokluseong. They had once served the Flame King of Devotion, but after her death, they naturally fell under the Yaryul King’s banner.

They were accustomed to the harshness of the north and revered the carnivorous customs of the demon tribes—the martial artists of the Demon Realm.

They had no particular thoughts. They lived as the currents carried them.

Because the Yaryul King shared the temperament of the demon tribes, they had not left Yeokluseong either, and thus had not helped the older northern kings of the Six Origin Clans. They merely guarded the city.

“What’s that bastard, the Demon Blade of Annihilation, doing?”

Geum Jong-o asked one of his subordinates.

At that moment, a massive dust cloud approached the city gates.

The aftershock of rampaging footwork techniques, obviously caused by a large gathering of martial artists within.

“They’ve apparently herded southern escapees who crossed the Great Wall into a cavalry formation. All of them are said to be from prominent families—there’s even someone from the Peng family of Hebei. It seems the current head of the Peng family managed to escape the encirclement, though...”

“The Eight Clans...?”

It was clearly visible from the city.

Leading over a hundred cavalrymen, the Demon Blade of Annihilation spun a crescent moon blade with wild flair, never even thinking of drawing the sword strapped to his back.

He had a massive frame like that of a demon tribe member.

His face was hidden behind a plain mask. His overwhelming martial power was laced with terror.

There was no exaggeration.

If a proper cavalry unit was led by a warrior of his caliber, it would already be a catastrophe even across the Great Wall.

And yet, he had not joined the battle on Cheonggwang Plain at all.

There had been other strong ones eyeing Yeokluseong hungrily, which may have been an excuse—or perhaps it was sincere. No one could say for sure.

Meanwhile, the group surrounded by the cavalry consisted of only a dozen or so.

Their well-tailored sleeves and elaborately engraved sword hilts stood out, clearly showing they had come from fertile lands.

Southern martial artists.

At their center was a tall, handsome young Taoist.

Even at a glance, the divine sword in his hand was no ordinary weapon. His expression was chillingly calm.

His movements were extraordinary.

He kept vanishing into the ground, then reappearing at key points to sever the flow of the cavalry.

Whenever he unleashed a single sword strike, multiple trajectories erupted, and every blurred and shimmering burst of sword energy drew blood like scattered petals.

The horses neighed wildly.

The Demon Blade of Annihilation moved his own men aside to allow the boy to reach him. Every blade route was genius-level.

“Is he an ally of the Yaryul King?”

“If warriors like him keep joining one by one, maybe they really can stand against the Whirlwind Command...”

Various figures lining the walls of Yeokluseong murmured among themselves.

They were not guards of the city, but wandering northern martial artists who roamed the world. Each had a sharp grasp of the world’s power dynamics.

“Stand against the Whirlwind Command? Do you even know how many Northern Kings there are in the Echo Caves?”

“Exactly. Even if you just want to buy time to reorganize your forces, the overwhelming power you need has to already be in place. Yeokluseong is not a place to linger long.”

“Forget the Yaryul King. Look at that supreme being in the purple robes. There won’t be another reinforcement like him. But he clearly has complications. He won’t stay here for long.”

The southern martial artists, including the Hwasan Taoist, were completely swept up by the cavalry. The endless pounding of footwork stopped.

No one knew what the Demon Blade of Annihilation intended by attacking them.

Maybe he meant to imprison the outsiders as a sort of security chief. Maybe he wanted to safely take hostages, having turned his back on the Yaryul King after the conflict with the Northern King.

Anything was possible.

Even other Northern Kings acknowledged the man’s internal energy barrier and movement techniques.

Now surrounded at point-blank range, the southern martial artists struggled and shouted.

“Traitor of the Peng family! Let go of me!”

“I saw you at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering! Are you really planning to feed your fellow martial artists to the jaws of a Northern King?!”

“Aren’t you ashamed?!”

Some remained silent.

The Hwasan Taoist and a few others. Relying on ancient, traditional divine techniques, they silently awaited an opportunity.

If even the smallest gap opened, they planned to escape the Cheonggwang Plain. Especially Yuhyeon of Hwasan’s stealth movement technique, Dark Fragrance Floating, had delayed the enemy just long enough.

The veins on the back of the Demon Blade of Annihilation’s hand bulged as he stared down at him. He looked ready to strike and kill at any moment.

A slow sound approached. The victors of the Cheonggwang battle were coming. The footsteps of nearly a hundred people resounded as if it were an army.

In that instant, the skin around the masked face of the Demon Blade of Annihilation paled. A middle-aged voice flowed out from behind the plain mask.

“Truly overwhelming martial presence. Where else is there one with such charisma?”

“The Emperor of the Demon Realm. The true Northern Emperor has arrived.”

The mounted warriors began to part one by one, and soon a figure emerged.

Jeong Yeon-shin, clad in a deep purple robe, walked forward, revered by all.

Yuhyeon opened his mouth slightly—then shut it.