Chapter 604: Chapter 604

Whirling Wind Hollow’s Sound Cavern.

A resonance space vast enough to unify lands larger than the Ming Dynasty itself—created personally by the God of War and passed down to the Northern Kings.

It was where the pro-God of War Northern Kings whispered their most secret strategies. Naturally, the warriors of the Demon Realm paid rapt attention to Whirling Wind Hollow.

Many even hoped to eavesdrop in their dreams. Perhaps they could catch a trace of enlightenment.

But no one ever openly discussed the Sound Caverns used by the Six Liu Yuan Star Lords.

Not even the most gossip-hungry martial artists would mention them. In no great city’s saha would you hear those two terms uttered together: the Star Lords and the Hollow.

Because everyone already knew.

That this was no longer just the uppermost layer of the Demon Realm’s kangho—

This was the strategic nerve center of a soon-to-be-born empire.

Even the Sound Caverns used by Mun Gok and Yeom Jeong proved it.

—Yeom Jeong, did you arrive safely? How’s the internal injury from the Night Sky Sword?

—No trouble. Even if we crossed paths again, that old man wouldn’t stand a chance. Not unless he regains his youth.

—He won’t. The Southern Emperor’s “Heaven-Piercing Soul” hit dead center. He won’t last more than fifteen days... may already be dead.

—Disappointed? Well, I suppose you looked like you were enjoying yourself that day. It’s rare to find a swordsman whose blade holds true conviction.

—Stop calling things difficult. Negativity will taint the uprising.

—That won’t be hard. The Gunreung Emperor has been dead for a while, yet the Ming court hasn’t lifted a finger. The new Divine Sword Corps leader hasn’t even shown his face... and the Corps abandoned Yeoklu Fortress and is charging northward. It’s actually made rallying the Northern Kings easier.

The vast southern kangho—

Ipwang Fortress, the Old Sects, the Eight Families, the Thirteen Heavens...

The Demon Realm stood as its perfect mirror.

An empire already poised under names like Jin and Da Qing, its strength no less than the combined might of the southern martial world—even without the Ming royal court.

—So many have pledged to the uprising? I don’t need Northern Kings who only flap their gums in Whirling Wind Hollow.

—We’ve got half the Six Star Lords... that is, myself and the Southern Emperor.

—The Lord of Molten Rock Fortress, the Heavenly Palace King, the Great King Vajra, the Saint Sword Lord of Goryo, the Artisan Emperor of Luban, and even the last Dharma King of Podalap Palace—whose sect was destroyed by the Greatest Master of the West—seems eager to side with us. We’ll have to keep them clear of the Light Sect Master.

These were the future founding kings of the Qing Dynasty. Just speaking their names cast immense pressure into the resonance space. Mun Gok paused briefly.

—...You’ve done well.

—They aren’t Liu Yuan Star Lords yet, but they’re still Northern Kings. The Southern Emperor is already complete—as the first Emperor.

—Strategy begins with gathering troops. They must know that when so many swarm into the capital of the Demon Realm, Black City, clashes will be inevitable. Half the Northern Kings eat people.

—That’s why we’ve left paths open in all directions. Especially the north. We drew out the Ice Palace ahead of time, and the Ice Emperor is already comatose. The Blood King and Lord of the Violent Wind Division in Coldblood Valley are big variables, but they’ll be too busy checking each other to leave.

—So we just have to eliminate the Divine Sword Corps. I’ll go.

—No need. The Lord of Molten Rock Fortress is already waiting on their route.

They were crafting the greatest divine art known to man.

An unchanging pinnacle among human achievements—

The Six Liu Yuan Star Lords had long stacked mountains of corpses. Now, from the peak, they were reshaping the era itself.

—The divine art of Mun Gok... is called “Qing.”

Qing, written with the character for “clear.”

A mountain that would not fall.

The mountain had split.

The shockwave was tremendous.

A massive gray rift exposed itself across the peak. From both sides, deafening booms continued to echo outward.

Dirt clods, fragments of rock, and brittle trees all collided, sending tremors rippling across the land.

It was like the lives of the Divine Sword Corps leaders—

One massive landslide.

Dust clouds drifted down like snowfall.

Jeong Yeon-shin quietly looked down.

To meet the eyes of the one he had just clashed with.

A beautiful man with pure white hair was staring up at him.

Eyes like thickly condensed blood.

His smooth brow furrowed, his shimmering crimson robe trailing to the ground. His gaze was sharp—like the tips of a bat’s wings.

A man who didn’t suit the image of kneeling.

The sort who belonged on a polished jade throne.

Was this what they called kingly bearing?

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled two others.

The Bloodflame Cult Leader he’d met in his youth—an irresistible force.

And the Seventh Apostle.

“Who are you?” the man asked him.

Jeong Yeon-shin asked back, “Are you the head of the Blood Royal House?”

“Are you insane? You crashed into the main house without even knowing who I am?”

“They say there’s a Northern King who doesn’t welcome the God of War. Is that you? If so, tell me why.”

“You’re the first bastard I’ve ever met . What the hell kind of energy did you cultivate? Did the Violent Wind Division send you?”

Jeong Yeon-shin muttered coldly.

That seductive voice, soaked in demonic nature, finally drew a slight twitch from the Blood King’s eyes.

The first sign of lost control in the flow of internal qi across his meridians.

The aging had reached his brain.

Most outer-path warriors (sama wédo) were —quick to lose rationality. Only exceptional transcendents like the Blade Sect Lord, the Bloodflame Cult Leader, and the Celestial Extremity Sect Master had ever been exceptions in Jeong Yeon-shin’s experience.

‘Good. Better this way.’

He’d wanted something from the Blood King all along. That was why he hadn’t cut his head off immediately.

Recruit him. Turn him into an asset.

This was a wartime conscription for the Divine Sword Corps. There was no other choice.

Because his opponent was the strongest in the north. A monster aiming to found an empire rivaling the Ming Dynasty.

He had shaken the heavens and earth when he stood alone on Qingguangping—and now, if he added the northern kings of Whirling Wind Hollow and the martial forces he built as a founding sovereign?

That would be catastrophe. Even the term “natural disaster” would fall short.

The scale of conflict would shift to another dimension.

With only his own hands, Jeong Yeon-shin wouldn’t be able to protect everything.

The Divine Sword Corps might be wiped out—

With only a handful of leaders surviving.

That kind of future...

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Black and white lightning flashed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.

The Blood King, staring deep into ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) him, showed a flicker of surprise.

“Magic and Buddhist force? No... that’s not all. Yes... the Three Purities. You’re using Daoist void to balance two opposing forces. You carry the Heavenly Demon, the Dharma Ancestor... and Zhang Sanfeng in your body.”

A sleek smile, tinged with blood, appeared on his lips.

That demonic voice returned once more.

“I’ve seen a lot of lunatics, but you... you’re impossible. Your natural talent is beyond anything in history—and fortune itself favors you in your cultivation. No wonder the main house ended up .”

Those glossy red eyes glittered like coagulated blood. The gaze of a martial master of the Demon Realm.

They called themselves kings for a reason.

It was a welcome thing.

The stronger the soldier, the better.

“I’ve been looking for a keen-eyed veteran like you.”

Jeong Yeon-shin said it like it was nothing.

There’s an old saying:

What even heavenly courage cannot move, a few words might win.

That’s how his father, Jeong Ban-ak, had won over his mother, Ma Yeon-sang.

Showing respect to an outer-path master is never easy.

But a few words of flattery were still possible.

“You were looking for me?”

The Blood King echoed coolly.

The sound spread across the now narrow cliff-face that had once been a mountainside. Dry earth dust settled like a veil between the two men. Jeong Yeon-shin slowly nodded.

“I’m on my way to strike down the Southern Emperor. Join me.”

“Stop drinking the blood of innocent civilians. I know a blood arts formula worthy of a clan like yours.”

At the same time, Jeong Yeon-shin’s left hand released a small, irregular pulse—

A ripple of energy from the Mara Jin Blood Arts.

But the Blood King was already slipping into a crevice in the cliff behind him. Though his eyes had snapped wide at the qi wave, his movement never stopped.

His presence was as thin as mist.

Incredibly swift, and graceful to the point of awe. As expected of a great master of blood arts. It was an ultimate movement technique, resembling the A Body Method of the Bloodflame Cult.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze twitched.

Another supreme master retreating.

If you gave chase, you would inevitably lose them. The one running always dictated the direction and controlled the variables.

It was why only the fastest of the fast—like the dead God of War, or Joo Gwang-shin in his prime with both legs—could keep up.

Jeong Yeon-shin was not there yet.

So instead, he stomped the ground beneath him.

The vanishing figure of the Blood King reappeared, halted abruptly in the dust. In an instant, his body snapped into focus—and then, he coughed up blood.

“It’s a martial art called Southern Flame Grand Taiji.”

Jeong Yeon-shin said.

Beneath their feet, a bluish circle had appeared, forming a taiji pattern. From its curves, flickering white sparks crackled to life.

It carried a fundamentally powerful ability to destroy evil and reveal truth—a technique infused with the soul of an old wandering swordsman. Just its manifestation suppressed hostile qi.

A flicker of bewilderment appeared on the Blood King’s icy face.

“You mixed Taoist Three Purities Force with Buddhist power...?”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice remained calm throughout.

That’s how one must deal with supreme masters. If they decide to leave, no place is beyond their reach—and their obsessive devotion to martial arts made them unpredictable, erratic transcendents.

You subdue them with power.

Only then do you talk. After all, they’re barely human by ordinary standards. And when needed, you must make them atone through service.

—The sword I envision is one that brings spring to the faces of the weak. So what if it draws some blood, so what if it reeks a little? If even one face can bloom with the hope of escaping this hellish life—that’s a flower worth blooming. And it only takes a little courage.

The Sword Saint’s dying words brushed across his mind.

Not just now. Ever since the old swordsman last took his hand, those words had echoed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s head.

He opened his mouth slowly.

“If you’ve made a habit of blood draining... then you’re vermin.”

“I’ll give you a chance to live like a human. Come quietly.”

“You raving lunatic...! Don’t you dare reduce a lifetime of cultivation to some mongrel art!”

The word blood draining sent the Blood King into a frenzy.

His white hair—possessed only by the Bloodflame Cult Leader and the Divine Sword Corps commander—flared like a lion’s mane. Even caught in the Southern Flame Grand Taiji, he released a burst of qi. As expected of a blood fiend exalted enough to be called a king.

He was a Northern King.

To slay him outright would be a feat revered as an atrocity-defying miracle. But to recruit him?

Regardless of the situation, I cannot let him cast Art of Shared Moonlight.

Immediately, three radiant rings spun around Jeong Yeon-shin’s heart.

The moment his foot slammed down again, dark red blood sprayed from the Blood King’s mouth. He dropped to his knees once more.

“Let’s have a conversation.”

A bloody smirk tugged at the Blood King’s lips—

But then a woman’s voice exploded with sixfold resonance.

It echoed through the entire Coldblood Valley, reverberating between the mountains—

A powerful presence hurtling in from the sky.

Another high-ranking blood fiend had arrived.

She’s comparable to one of the Eight Families.

It had to end before Eo Ung-gong and Joo Gwang-shin, the slower reinforcements, arrived. He couldn’t let the elderly burn themselves out unnecessarily.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s low voice rippled out as a sixfold resonance reply.

Meanwhile, his right hand was forming afterimages in place—

The prelude to Fist Blossom, No Limit Hand.

He had already achieved martial omnipotence.

He had inherited the Sword Saint’s will. If he were to fail at anything, it should only be when facing someone like the Lord of Ipwang Fortress—or the God of War himself.

The Blood King screamed desperately.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes captured the woman racing through the sky.

Her face was achingly familiar.

A profile that perfectly matched those red eyes. Peerless beauty.

And the sharp tip of her nose, etched with a trace of love and hatred.

She looked just like someone else.

“You said you knew blood arts—did the Cult Master send you to steal away my heir again?! Was the second daughter not enough—you want the firstborn too?!”

Jeong Yeon-shin replied.