Chapter 607: Chapter 607

The terrain split the valley—one of the rare fertile places in the Demon Realm.

One of the mountains was made up of over a dozen peaks, and the one on the left had been split in a straight vertical line from the summit down.

It was caused by a dark blue flame that had suddenly flared up about half a shichen ago.

Ash-gray stone dust rose like mist and began slowly settling.

And just then, another enormous sword strike was unleashed.

Unlike the flame from earlier that had vertically split the mountain in half, this time, it was a single horizontal strike that sliced through one of the peaks.

For a split second, the blade flashed—like a compressed cluster of stars—and vanished.

It was, quite literally, a thunderous roar of laughter.

The man who had launched the sword strike didn’t bother hiding his mood. His laughter was laced with unfiltered delight.

“You bastard, Blood King! Are you still alive? Or did you die alone in your # Nоvеlight # own territory?”

A man wearing a fur hat pressed low over his head.

A tall, lanky swordsman sat astride a fine steed—its coat a mix of shimmering gold and white.

The horse’s hooves were planted in midair.

It pounded the sky with thunderous crashes. This was one of the rarest divine martial feats even in the Demon Realm: Heaven-Stepping Equestrian Skill—the Sky-Treading Horse Art.

“Not many sins for a blood fiend, and yet here you are. Strange times. Lightning from a clear sky, eh?”

His voice was rough and gravelly.

But his unusually long, needle-like eyes—sharp as a great needle—held no trace of laughter. Colorless light shimmered in his pitch-black pupils.

His God Light of Plow Manifestation was active—a high-level visual martial technique once reserved only for the elite martial nobles of the Yuan Dynasty.

The Lord of the Violent Wind Division was staring intently at the interior of the mountain peak he had sliced through.

The cave within was black as pitch, the air writhing like a living abyss.

“Lord! Do you see anything?”

A fierce shout rose from below.

It came from one of the mounted martial artists encircling the horizontally bisected peak.

The Lord of the Violent Wind Division glanced at her.

She too wore a fur hat pressed down over her head and rode a battle horse like his, though her riding technique had not yet reached the level of sky-treading.

To him, she was simply called the adjutant.

But in the Demon Realm, people referred to her as the Great Warrior of the Marauders or the Deputy Lord. In other words, the second-in-command of the Violent Wind Division.

The Lord of the Violent Wind Division opened his mouth.

“This time, I can see it. The future of the Blood King Clan.”

“I said, did you hear that Flame King of Heat and Wrath is dead? Word has traveled even to this backwater without a single Whirling Wind Hollow! It must’ve been a while already!”

Her voice echoed up from beneath the peak.

At the same time, the ground beneath the sword strike shook violently. The upper portion of the peak, long since cleaved, had finally lost its balance.

The skirmishes between the Violent Wind Division and the Blood King Clan had lasted well over a decade.

Though a vast valley separated their bases, the years of animosity had shrunk even the breadth of that Cold-Blood Ravine.

At this point, pinpointing the enemy’s hideout was a trivial matter.

The Yuan martial lineage—Wumaek.

Unrivaled in scanning distant terrain.

In any large-scale conflict, they held the advantage. Even more so in war.

I see them. The bat bastards—holed up in a darkroom, huh?

With God Light of Plow Manifestation active, he was virtually unbeatable in scouting battles.

After all, even the Moon Spirit Divine Art created by the Lord of Ipwang Fortress had been designed specifically to counter the imperial detection techniques of the Yuan Dynasty.

“If only Bukdo hadn’t joined forces with the God of War...”

The Lord of the Violent Wind Division’s mutter faded into the air.

Suddenly, a jet-black shadow streaked upward, leaving behind a vertical trace of blood-red light—reaching all the way to his battle horse’s face.

Two reddish afterimages surged from the peak below, stopping just before his eyes.

A figure had leapt directly from the darkness of the cave—moving with transcendent speed.

A circular shockwave burst belatedly from below, flinging debris in all directions.

“Did you think this was your chance?”

The Blood King asked quietly, now eye-level with the Lord of the Violent Wind Division—his feet too hovering in the air like the battle horse.

A smirk curved across the chapped skin of the Lord’s dry lips.

“I was just curious what happened to the neighbors. One moment the mountain next door splits open—how could I ignore such a bizarre occurrence?”

“You saw that sword strike?”

“Of course. What Northern King could miss it? Didn’t quite look like one of your signature techniques, though.”

“Then what kind of confidence brought you here? Your entire force amounts to a band of marauders and that cannibalistic deputy of yours.”

The Blood King’s question was chilling, but the Lord’s grin remained wide and deep, like a hollow on the grasslands.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

The moment his large hand touched the horse’s neck—

Eternal Righteous Power

Three Divine Horse Forms

First Form: Reverence Ascended

The battle horse reared high on its front legs.

Shockwaves thundered endlessly from its hooves, surging toward the Blood King.

Faint ripples trailed in succession like a tail. The air warped translucently along their path.

It was a technique of Man and Horse as One.

In the next instant, the Blood King swung his right hand’s claws and shredded all the shockwaves—but the Lord of the Violent Wind Division had already descended dozens of jang downward and slammed directly into the earth.

The heavy landing followed immediately.

Dust billowed thick around him, and his laughter echoed out. His voice scraped along the ground.

“It’s too early to test your claws. I haven’t figured out what’s going on yet.”

A head of a martial faction must possess both decisiveness and caution. This was no different.

That slash which had sliced the mountain—

Was it the result of the Blood King Clan being attacked?

Or had the Blood King attained a new enlightenment?

Or perhaps, like himself, they had brought in a new peerless guest?

He needed to assess it all.

And before the blood fiends could regroup, he had to strike.

Hesitate, and the two Northern King factions might once again stare each other down over this fertile ground with no end in sight.

A woman’s voice rang out.

From within the cleaved peak.

Anyone in the martial world of Cold-Blood Ravine would know that voice. The heir of the Blood King—next in line for Northern King. A figure well known for both talent and lineage.

Fiend-Blood Prodigy Jeok Iseo.

An overwhelming genius.

She wielded blood arts with the direct, upright force of orthodox martial disciplines.

Her ability to draw out the essential nature of her inner energy and shape it to suit her body was beyond talent.

Though barely reaching thirty, she was already the acknowledged Great Warrior of the North.

And she showed none of the madness typical of blood fiends—so naturally, her name ranked high on the Lord of the Violent Wind Division’s kill list.

She had filled the vacancy left by her famed younger sibling, whose bloodline was renowned.

Plenty had aimed for her neck.

“Father! A report just came in from below!”

Rising from the cleaved summit—Jeok Iseo.

Her leap was that of Transcendent Sky-Walking.

The waves of internal energy at her nape rippled through her jet-black bobbed hair. Her snow-white silk robe fluttered like the wings of a bat.

“So the Violent Wind Division has taken in a new guest...!”

That’s when it happened.

In a flash, a warhorse's hind kick struck her side with a thunderous bang, sending her flying. She was launched all the way down to the base of the peak, accompanied by a sonic boom that tore through the air.

Violent Wind Division's Eternal Righteous Power – Divine Horse Crashes the Heavens.

Dozens of trenches gouged into the slope, shaking the entire mountain base. A row of ochre-colored dust clouds rose from the earth in its wake.

It was an equestrian art at the level of divine technique.

Just as first-class swordsmen do not distinguish between sword and hand, so too did the rider use the battle horse’s entire meridian system as if it were their own body.

The Deputy Lord of the Violent Wind Division shouted gleefully as she followed Jeok Iseo down on her battle horse. She lay flat against the saddle as if fused to it.

From the long, narrow sword in her hand shimmered a subtle halo of light like scattered starlight—a clear sign of Sword Qi.

She had surpassed the realm where heavy weapons like crescent blades were needed for mounted combat.

She had condensed her inner energy into an intensely fortified form and coated her weapon with it.

Because that energy could shift shape like a cloud, it gave a distinct advantage in combat at close range. The length and shape of the weapon became irrelevant.

This was the Qi Art of the Yuan Dynasty—a discipline that perfectly complemented their fluid riding techniques.

And now, surrounding the narrow blade of the Violent Wind Deputy Lord, that starlight took the form of Sword Qi.

She struck with the sword as soon as she landed, whipping it down like a lash.

Jeok Iseo, who had just risen from the dirt path, kicked the sword aside. Her foot landed squarely on the side of the blade, distorting the energy irregularly.

A reddish haze spread from the tip of her foot. It was a shockwave of Blood Energy.

The Deputy Lord, nearly having her wrist bent back on horseback, furrowed her brow. Her crescent-shaped eyes narrowed even further.

A clash of inner force happened in a flash.

Jeok Iseo wasn’t merely deflecting the sword qi—she intended to shatter it completely with her long legs.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

At the same time, the Deputy Lord altered the structure of her refined energy sixteen times, reinforcing her sword qi to prevent it from breaking.

She did so with a grin, still seated calmly on the precious saddle of her blood-colored battle horse.

Dust suddenly kicked up from beneath them, veiling the surroundings. Dry weeds bent their stalks on their own.

They were of a similar age. And at that moment, both women thrilled at each other’s talents anew.

The dust they’d stirred was suddenly split from front and back. The two Northern Kings were approaching, watching each other warily, clearly ready to act if needed—especially toward their opponent’s heir.

“You’ve raised your heir well.”

The towering Lord of the Violent Wind Division was the first to speak, seated atop his massive battle horse.

“When she lost the True-Blood Physique to the Bloodflame Cult Leader, she looked like she might take her own life at any moment.”

The Blood King asked quietly, his whites now tinged with red.

But the Lord of the Violent Wind Division merely waved toward a distant ridge.

There, a blind man walked—wearing an old straw hat and using a single sword as a cane, for he had only one arm.

A curious grunt rang out beside the Violent Wind Lord. The blind man had crossed the hill in an instant.

He lightly tapped the battle horse with his sword hilt.

“I’m not too interested in your fight.”

The massive blood horse flinched, hit for no reason, but only rolled its crazed eyes.

From its mouth billowed the white breath of late winter. Yet for a beast second only to the two Northern Kings in savagery, it stood rather meekly.

In that moment, Jeok Iseo and the Deputy Lord both stepped back. The blind man had shown no overt martial might, but both instinctively held back.

They realized he was a peerless swordsman, and in that instant, they also recalled how temperamental and hypersensitive such transcendent beings could be.

A living embodiment of Sound from the East, Strike from the West.

If they so chose, they could evade capture forever, wielding their freedom like divine power. They would not die unless it was fated by Heaven itself.

Anyone could have read that thought in Jeok Iseo’s crimson eyes.

“Not your sword qi that split the peak,”

The blind man said, adjusting the rim of his straw hat.

“I’m asking about the earlier sword strike—the one that cleaved the mountain. Where did it come from?”

“I was just about to find out.”

The Violent Wind Lord replied.

Then turned to the Blood King with a question of his own.

“But who is that? My division’s been tracking every aspect of the Blood King Clan for years—I’ve never heard of someone like him.”

Behind the Blood King and his daughter—

A young man stood, his crimson-black hair falling to his shoulder blades.

His jet-black hair was streaked with blood-red, like someone on the verge of attaining the rank of a Blood Cult Swordsman.

His downward gaze carried a faint melancholy, and his high-bridged nose had a distinctly Western appearance. Though refined, his skin bore the marks of old scars.

It was clear he had used Face-Altering Art—and yet his original features still bled through.

Even at a glance, he was unmistakably a blood fiend—deadly was the right word. He was an astoundingly beautiful man.

Even his crimson pupils resembled gleaming blood beads.

The Violent Wind Lord asked bluntly.

“Do you belong in this conversation? Who are you?”

The young man didn’t answer right away.

And it was only natural. After all, he was being questioned by none other than the Northern King himself, and even his blood energy didn’t compare to Jeok Iseo’s.

The young woman beside him wore a vaguely flustered expression—but that was irrelevant.

“Can’t control your underling?”

The Deputy Lord gave Jeok Iseo a pitying smirk. It was a familiar exchange between them.

But the Blood King seemed uninterested in excuses.

Now that the peerless swordsman in the straw hat was facing them as an enemy guest, this was a moment of life or death.

It was only natural he’d glare at the red-eyed youth beside him with frustration and irritation.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

But to the Violent Wind Lord and his deputy, the Blood King’s father-daughter quarrel was a mere sideshow.

They were more concerned with the blind man they’d recently taken in as a guest. Only when he moved could the long war in Cold-Blood Ravine come to an end.

This was a being of monstrous power—a sword demon interested in the Lord of the Violent Wind Division’s swordsmanship and qi techniques.

At that moment, the white haze over the blind swordsman’s eyes shimmered ever so slightly as he looked toward the young man.

He stepped forward—barely even enough to count as a full step. No one noticed.

It was such a minuscule approach, it wouldn’t even rouse the hyper-sensitive senses of a peerless martial master.

The Violent Wind Lord gave the Blood King a wry smile.

“Looks like an unfinished weapon. But his energy is fairly strong for that. You still know how to keep me on edge, Blood King. Is he a pureblood you picked up somewhere?”

The red-eyed youth slowly opened his mouth.

“I’m part of this household.”

His voice was broken, as if distorted by inner energy—sounding deliberately vague.