Chapter 590: Chapter 590

The royal palace of Yeokluseong.

Literally, the inner chamber of the king. It used to be the dwelling of the Northern Flame-Burning Divine King, who was the first to be slain by Jeong Yeon-shin.

The space was divided into three sections. Flame-Burning Divine King’s bedchamber, a separate chamber for her attendants, and finally, her office.

There were three beds. One in each room, including the office, which also served to receive guests and subordinates.

—Wasn’t she the Gatekeeper of the North? Why is there a bed in the office?

—Bukgung Ah of Yeouicheon, you should know. A Northern King is someone who may even meet people while lying down.

—Tch. Whatever. Works out. Let’s lay him here.

—Maybe you should watch your mouth. Shouldn’t you, of all people, respect the North? You were born into the Northern Royal Family, entangled with the God of War himself...

—Keep yapping if you wanna die.

Surrounding the unconscious Jeong Yeon-shin were the ones who had stormed into Yeokluseong together with the martial forces of Ipwang Fortress.

They were the definition of unstoppable.

It would be hard to find anyone in the entire world capable of killing them.

A collective of black swords who could accomplish anything through combined assault, and even a poppy-head decked in blue, pretending to be a scholar.

They could have overtaken even the great cities of the Demonic Realm. It was only natural that they occupied Yeokluseong as if it were their own. In the blink of an eye, three people were laid to rest in the royal chambers.

Jeong Yeon-shin, the Sword Saint, and the Sect Master of Jeomchang.

The Sword Queen Geum Seonseon arrived the day after the battle at Cheonggwang Plain.

She had recklessly chased after the God of War and ended up paying the price. By now, her body required several weeks, if not months, of recuperation.

As a sect master of the old schools, even Ipwang Fortress had no choice but to respect her.

Someone like her, who had fought a brilliant duel with Jeong Yeon-shin and appeared to have forged a solid relationship, deserved it even more.

Because Jeong Yeon-shin would care.

Besides, the Sword Queen had a past connection with the Hero of Justice. Of course she was worth protecting and caring for.

But Tae Yeom-ryong didn’t care about any of that.

The sound of fabric being pressed.

He was lying atop the roof, amidst the sharply rising tiles that formed curved lines like blades.

It was none other than a Northern-style rooftop, where the winter sunlight poured down so bright it felt like it could lift the rafters.

And it was directly above the king’s office.

Tae Yeom-ryong lay on his back with both arms behind his head like a pillow, chewing slowly on a dried flower petal.

Beside him, a gourd bottle wobbled precariously, spreading a fragrant scent of liquor.

It had been two days since they entered Yeokluseong.

Everything had more or less settled down.

But there had been no time for anyone to unwind.

Most of the black swords and the Seven Apostles were clinging to Jeong Yeon-shin, while Hуeon Won-chang had begun personally tending to the Sword Saint.

From time to time, the Yullyeong Master Yun So-yu summoned Seonmok Commander Lord Cheon So-so to help nurse the Sword Queen.

Meanwhile, the sub-commander of the Divine Sword Corps, Jin Myeong-jo, was single-handedly suppressing the Northern Gatekeeper and Lord of Hocheonseong.

Taking them with him, he had seized control over the entire administrative region of Yeokluseong.

“What a ghost of a man.”

The poppy-head mumbled leisurely, recalling the white-haired blood demon. His tone wasn’t exactly cheerful.

He had once called himself Jeong Yeon-shin’s right hand, but Jin Myeong-jo had outshined him, and he couldn’t help but look ridiculous in comparison.

Tae Yeom-ryong, his senses dulled by the floral scent climbing all the way to his Baihui point, thought idly.

Would that man calculate the battle merits for this northern expedition? There was no command center now.

“...Ugh, what a pain.”

A lazy mutter slipped through his teeth. Just in case, he was on guard against a sudden ambush from the ceiling like a lunatic—but really, there was nothing better to do.

That’s how it always was for him.

What talent could a scoundrel obsessed with poppies and booze have besides fighting? His only worth was in burning his lifespan away. That had been true in both the Hwangbo family and Ipwang Fortress.

But even that use seemed to be nearing its end.

Seeing the Sub-Commander of the Divine Sword Corps and the Bloodflame Cult Leader made that clear. Tae Yeom-ryong was no longer the right hand.

As the newly appointed Left Leg of Jeong Yeon-shin, according to Shin Sword Sub-Commander Yong Hui-myeong, perhaps.

But honestly, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“No matter how close to death, why sulk alone? Makes the path ahead seem even bleaker.”

A hearty voice mixed with lazy footsteps. A young man in black robes, his forehead wrapped with a dark hero’s band, was climbing up.

Interim Bloodflame Commander Hуeon Won-chang.

Tae Yeom-ryong, still lying with his arms behind his head on the wide roof, asked while looking up at the sky.

“Only now you ask? You must’ve been really out of it.”

Hуeon Won-chang, sitting a bit of a distance away, tapped the sword strapped to his waist.

It was wrapped in bandages like the formal gear of the Myungryu Master. The blade was about the length of a man’s arm—not quite long enough to be called a longsword.

And yet, somehow, it fit him perfectly. Almost like the sword was an extension of his being.

Tae Yeom-ryong chuckled. And then, in his usual genius way, offered a blunt insight.

“Fits your lowborn roots.”

“Well, yeah. Suits a killer.”

The assassin with the demeanor of a great hero answered. Then added, “You look like a corpse yourself now.”

Tae Yeom-ryong didn’t bother replying.

This wasn’t like when he acknowledged only Jeong Yeon-shin as his equal. Now, people like Hуeon Won-chang were living out their lives.

Not like fireflies burning out in a day—but slowly, surely growing stronger.

That kind of life’s dignity was something a poppy-chasing bastard with a year left to live couldn’t hope to touch. Of course he’d never reach it.

“You be the ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) left leg.”

“What nonsense? The Master isn’t even conscious.”

“I know the Master’s body well. He’ll be fine. His Twelve Main Meridians and 365 acupuncture points, plus who knows how many fine capillaries—he’s polished them like a supernatural freak. As long as the Northern Campaign ends safely, he’ll live a long and healthy life.”

It was the insight of a genius of Heat Yang Internal Energy.

Also the prophecy of the Solar God Pulse—the hottest insight in the world.

But Hуeon Won-chang only gave a halfhearted response.

He smoothly changed the subject.

“By the way, I heard your wife’s pregnant. Doesn’t that worry you? No news since you went off to face a Northern King.”

“She’s the Lord of the Ice Palace. My concern is unnecessary.”

Still, Tae Yeom-ryong stood up with the gourd in hand. Swaying like a drunk, the liquor inside sloshed with a fragrant sound.

“...Truth is, I’ve been thinking about that. I should go find my wife. Our Master’s already surrounded by plenty of people.”

Hуeon Won-chang looked up at him and asked blankly.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want to bring a fatherless child into this world? Like what happened to our Master.”

“She said she doesn’t care. That the child’s got over fourteen fathers.”

The scoundrel who’d gone from the Ice Emperor’s fifteenth concubine to official husband grinned and continued.

“Actually, I like it better this way. I grew up in a house where fathers were useless. What would you know about being the Hwangbo clan’s Great Prince?”

“Ah, that explains why you seem to know everything.”

Tae Yeom-ryong casually shifted the topic again and asked Hуeon Won-chang. His tone was light.

“How long do you think the old Sword Saint has left?”

“...I don’t know. I’ve never seen palm scars that deep or vile in my life. They didn’t just tear through his protective qi—they shredded his meridians, strand by strand... Honestly, it gave me chills. It’s not good.”

“For someone in that state to still be breathing—it’s amazing. He really must be the weed-born stray they say he was.”

Just then, a woman’s voice cut in.

“Don’t speak so carelessly.”

The soft thud of small leather shoes stepping onto the tiles.

A woman climbed up onto the roof with formal grace.

Every step was dignified. The movement echoed the traditions of the Guarding Scripture Sect—it was Jegal Cheong-ah of the Jegal Clan, the Silent Ink Writ.

Tae Yeom-ryong smiled.

“The acting clan leader herself is correcting my speech.”

“Shouldn’t someone like you know better than to speak lightly of a man like him? Especially after the Lord gave everything to save Lord Jeong.”

It was Jegal Cheong-ah.

Her cheeks had sharpened slightly with time, just like Jeong Yeon-shin’s. She looked very slender.

Her hair was tied in a single jet-black flow, and her sky-blue robes lent Yeokluseong the air of a wealthy southern stronghold.

Tae Yeom-ryong shook his head.

“Don’t get it twisted just because I’m crass. Even my child owes his life to the Master surviving.”

“What do you... mean?”

"Master-deputy is my guardian. If I die, he said he’d look after me like a real father. That’s pretty amusing and touching, isn’t it? If I’ve got fifteen fathers without even counting the real one, isn’t that a blessing?"

Around then, Jegal Cheong-ah was no longer looking at Tae Yeom-ryong—her gaze had shifted entirely to Hyeon Won-chang.

Hyeon Won-chang gave a subtle shake of his head, while Tae Yeom-ryong flicked another flower petal up from within his robe.

He did it while bowing his head beneath the eaves, tongue poking out.

The flower entered his mouth and was crunched with a crisp bite.

"Uninvited guests have started to gather. So, what business does the acting Clan Leader have?"

The words were slightly slurred, but Jegal Cheong-ah held his gaze with clear eyes for a moment, then answered slowly.

"The imperial family’s Celestial Martial Exam held at Zhongnan Mountain collapsed, and we’ve come north to retrieve the lost secret manual of the Zhongnan Sword Immortals that was taken by Shin Tu. I can’t speak for the others, but at least our main house and the Hwasan Sleeping Dragon are of the same mind."

"Lord Jeong has already recovered half of the manual, and I heard the other half fell into the hands of the Southern Emperor. The disciples of other sects can't really question the possession of the manual by the uncle of Zhongnan Sect’s Jeong Hye... so, in a way, the situation has been tentatively resolved. Though the real matters of the North begin now."

At that point, Jegal Cheong-ah's eyelids lowered slightly.

Her eyelashes tilted toward the underside of the roof—where Jeong Yeon-shin was lying. Her lips moved gently.

"The Lord of the Alliance is someone with much to do. It wouldn't be wrong to say the Martial Alliance is another name for the Sword Saint. People were always concerned that he stubbornly refused to take on a disciple... and now, things have come to this..."

Then Tae Yeom-ryong cut in.

"That tone of yours is strange. Are you not assuming his death more confidently than anyone?"

She nodded cautiously, but without hesitation.

"A strategist is someone who prepares for what comes next. That’s why the Grand Commander of Ipwang Fortress is renowned as the world’s greatest strategist. There’s a saying among the people, isn’t there? Even if the great wall falls, Ipwang Fortress never lets the enemy in."

Since Ma Gwang-ik left as a guest warrior clad in white, how treacherous a road had she walked in the Jegal Clan, without father or brother?

She was already the head of the Jegal Clan. Every calculated move she made, the Martial Alliance’s full response to Ipwang Fortress—none of it accidental.

Then Hyeon Won-chang abruptly cut in.

"Did you come as a representative of the southern martial world? What do you want?"

"For the next Alliance Lord to gain as much public trust as the Sword Saint, he needs achievements worthy of the title of righteous warrior of the world. For example—finding and destroying the nameless Heavenly Demon’s Tomb that brought about the Bloodstorm twenty years ago, and distributing the riches recovered from it to the common folk."

There it was—the heart of the matter.

Jegal Cheong-ah’s tone grew clear.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"The Alliance’s intelligence network is immense. More than half of the Eight Great Families contributed to it, and recently, even the Peng Family joined, enabling us to gather word of the recent quiet unrest in Beijing. Young Lord Hwangbo doesn’t know, does he? Why So Cheonmujuk of the Demonic Cult has come north."

"The story’s taking a bizarre turn."

Tae Yeom-ryong muttered, having seemed ready earlier to leap from under the eaves—but Jegal Cheong-ah was already speaking like a strategist overseeing a grand campaign.

"Deputy of the Divine Sword Sect, the executives of Hanam’s Simmuryun, the Chi Geuk Prince of Chi Geuk Territory, a Northern King who lost his Great Warrior, and the God of War."

"Each of them holds a piece of the map to the Heavenly Demon’s Tomb, scattered across the world. Whether they obtained it deliberately or by chance, when all the pieces are combined, it forms a complete map."

In that instant, both Tae Yeom-ryong and Hyeon Won-chang made the same expression for the first time. A slight narrowing of the brows. They remembered at once—

Where Jeong Yeon-shin had obtained his piece of the map to the Heavenly Demon’s Tomb.

It had been given to him by the son of a Tenfold Gate master, who had died long ago in Sichuan. His name was So Jin-rang.

—It’s a treasure sought after by Sunmaren. They say there’s a nameless Demonic Cult leader’s grave. The Heavenly Demon.

Tae Yeom-ryong gave a dry belch, the liquor catching in his throat. He muttered lazily.

"Didn’t I say I burned it immediately?"

Hyeon Won-chang shook his head.

"The entire world knows of Lord Jeong’s talents by now. Whether it’s qi sense or a gift for observation, even a glimpse would’ve been enough for him to memorize the whole map."

"A strategist who acts like a wolf, huh?"

At Tae Yeom-ryong’s remark, Jegal Cheong-ah nodded.

"Thank you for the compliment."

"The Alliance wants Lord Jeong’s memory. Whatever the price, we’re willing to pay. If we return north having only lost the Sword Saint, the righteous martial world will collapse."

"Fine, but setting that aside—why do the Chi Geuk Prince and the God of War have pieces?"

"The Chi Geuk Prince has a hobby of plundering possessions from southern martial artists who come to the northern front. He covets our refined goods. As for the God of War... he defeated the Mo Yong Clan Leader in a single exchange and sent him back naked. Among the items hidden in the Mo Yong Leader’s robes was a fragment of a map."

"He was the greatest swordsman of Liaodong. That one duel ended all the warlord uprisings throughout Liaodong. The morale of the Liaodong clans crumbled."

"If he had taken Mo Yong Clan Leader’s head then and there, the rebellion might’ve flared up again... but in the end, there’s been no more bloodshed among the Liaodong tribes. The northern martial world has grown more united."

"Then the Demonic Cult leader—why did she tell the Southern Emperor about Transfigured Void? Because of that map piece?"

"Most likely. She’s a direct heir of the Heavenly Demon. If the master of the 'Heavenly Demon’s Tomb' really was the omnipotent first Heavenly Demon, there might be something in that grave that So Cheonmujuk wants."

Fragmented alliances.

It was an age of chaos. Everyone had their own motives.

The Southern martial world and So Cheonmujuk sought the same thing. Meanwhile, the Southern Emperor aimed for the reincarnation of the War God.

And there was a point of convergence.

All stories were threading into one line.

At one end of that line stood Ipwang Fortress’s Divine Sword Sect—possessing both the clues to accomplish anything and the force to destroy anything.

After a brief silence, Hyeon Won-chang asked,

"Then why bring this to the likes of me and this temporary deputy with his concubine face, instead of going straight to the Divine Sword Deputy?"

"Because of them. Three Northern Kings came, didn’t they?"

Jegal Cheong-ah pointed beneath the opposite roof. Hyeon Won-chang flinched.

He had only now realized that the monstrous forces of the North had arrived without a sound, like ghosts—because he’d been too focused on helping the unconscious Sword Saint circulate his energy.

At the main gate of the inner walls of Yeokluseong—

A dreadful silence had fallen.

A group of figures, large and small, stood with their backs to the city gate. The biting winter stench of the North grew stronger.

Three Northern Kings, she had said.

Disaster was drawing close.

It was imperative to hide the condition of Jeong Yeon-shin and the Sword Saint. But once those men began moving through the inner walls, how could they be stopped?

And it wasn’t just the Northern Kings.

Tae Yeom-ryong, chewing a poppy petal, muttered to himself.

"They’ve brought their subordinates. The King of Dragon Resonance, the Chi Geuk King, and one I don’t know. Hm? That’s the Chi Geuk Prince."

"They said they requested an audience with the Deputy of the Divine Sword Sect, but they couldn’t even wait for a response..."

But Hyeon Won-chang trailed off mid-mumble. His pupils had shifted—he was seeing something new.

The front of the gate—and now, the entire inner citadel—was filling dreamlike with men and women.

Some stood with their feet on the yellow-clay wall. Some, impossibly, stood silently right beside Tae Yeom-ryong.

Others were crouched at the edges of rooftops, peering intently downward.

All of them wore faded black robes.

The air trembled. Like it was boiling with bloodlust.

Even excluding Hyeon Won-chang, temporary commander of the Blood Protection Division, and Jin Myeong-jo, deputy of the Divine Sword Sect, the official black-ranked hierarchy had twelve people.

Soyeon Commander, Myungryu Commander, Gongmyeong Commander, and all members of the One Blade of Wonpyeong, except for the Iron Demon of the Springs.

Their aura was overwhelming the Northern Kings.

Namgung Hwa-shin of Divine Sword Obedience stood before them. At some point, she had driven a sword into the ground at her feet.