CHAPTER 246

Yeo So-hyang's eyes widened.

It was a fleeting moment.

Was it because his mortal enemy, who had annihilated her mother's home, stood before him? A sinister sensation stirred in Jung Yeonshin's heart.

Had they not already exchanged such words? With an indifferent and composed face—

—I was merely on my way for an excursion. Looking down, I saw land far beyond its worth. Fertile soil has always been the prey of the World Tree. Thus, your family was destined to be reduced to ruin.

—For that reason alone? My mother's chosen household included many common folk.

—How pitiful. You should be grateful for having contributed to the grand vision of the Sect Leader, rather than harboring resentment.

The fierce battle against a core member of the Thirteen Celestial Demons had reached its conclusion.

Jung Yeonshin severed her only remaining arm in one sweeping strike. The Elder of the Tyrant Sword Tribe was far more renowned for her sword mastery than for her defensive aura.

There was no way she could endure the final move of the Radiant Demon Squad's leader with her bare body.

The winter sunlight, piercing the sky transparently, shimmered upon Yeo So-hyang's severed right arm. Shadows, announcing the end of battle, flickered and danced repeatedly.

At last—

"Kuheuh...!"

A groan burst from the mouth of the Ghost Spirit Sword, her lips convulsing uncontrollably.

The once-proud expression shattered. The agony that surged like a searing burn seemed to carve into the old woman's mind.

Her sword beneath her feet lost its strength and began to plummet.

"You wretch...!"

Yeo So-hyang twisted her body, now left with only her torso and legs.

Amidst the blood scattering in the air, her unfocused energy detonated erratically. Even the remnants of her meridian energy were immense.

Jung Yeonshin did not let his guard down. He clenched his left fist. His opponent had once been capable of matching even the purple-rank masters.

Even if she had declined with age and repeated battles, she would still have possessed dozens of last-resort techniques. She might even control her sword with the mere tip of her foot, he had to utterly crush her.

'Kugh.'

He swallowed his groan.

The Azure Flame-First Form was a sword technique that completely synchronized the wielder's internal energy with their sword movements. It also pushed every muscle in the body to its limit. As the ultimate explosive sword technique, its backlash was severe.

His entire body felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton. Succumbing to the counterforce of the technique now was out of the question.

'One more move. Just one more...!'

Even the wounds lacerating his body had to be used. The wind, carrying the scent of his own blood, sent chills through his flesh.

Jung Yeonshin treated his bleeding as ice water, gathering the sharp pain like a blade to awaken his senses.

Hwoooosh!

He fell alongside Yeo So-hyang.

Even the brief moment they hung in the air was enough for an expert to exchange over a dozen moves. He struck her abdomen with his clenched left fist.

Boom!

The blow landed cleanly. The heavy impact struck Yeo So-hyang's defensive energy. Her body felt unnaturally firm. She was a veteran master.

Despite the loss of her key meridians disrupting the flow of her internal energy, she had still managed to raise an invisible shield of pure energy. It was not a defense that would crumble from a single weakened strike.

Boom! Boom!

Jung Yeonshin did not cease his assault. From his shoulder blades to his fists, the energy of Infinite Blossom Fist Strike surged violently.

It felt as if his blood vessels were being torn apart. Had he not trained in the Jung Clan Movement Arts, he would have suffered permanent damage. But to a martial grandmaster, such wounds were meaningless, only the pain intensified.

The power waves of Transcending Law Radiant Wheel burst forth from his fists. It was the Third Form, Flower Strike.

Energy bloomed like a scattering bouquet, forming layers of accumulated force upon impact.

'Your martial arts will be destroyed.'

He hammered down on her lower dantian. The protective barrier of internal energy shattered alongside the remnants of her defensive aura.

The unyielding force of the Tyrant Sword Tribe's techniques unraveled before the Radiant Wheel's Force. Jung Yeonshin's relentless strikes penetrated deep into her core.

Zzeojeojeojeong!

At the moment his fist touched her abdomen, twenty-four strikes landed in an instant. It was as if translucent petals were scattering from the old monster's stomach, fragments of her shattered energy.

He destroyed her defensive aura, then utterly shattered the hardened shell of her lower dantian. Blood gushed violently from Yeo So-hyang's lips.

The ground below rushed toward them.

'I won't let my guard down.'

Jung Yeonshin shifted his bloodied left shoulder. He lacked the energy to perform Radiant River, but Formidable Wall would suffice.

Yeo So-hyang's face twisted like a vengeful specter. Jung Yeonshin threw his final strike at her mid-dantian.

It was the Second Form of Infinite Blossom Fist Strike. At the moment all remaining energy converged into his fist, his knuckles barely touched her solar plexus.

The power accumulated from countless rotations of the Radiant Wheel exploded outward.

Kuuung!

A tremendous shockwave erupted. It dug deep, obliterating her mid-dantian entirely. He felt the crisp sensation of breaking something apart.

"Huh-ah—!"

As the old woman exhaled a pained gasp, both supreme martial artists crashed to the forest floor simultaneously.

A dull sound echoed briefly through the grass. Along with the scattered droplets of blood.

Yeo So-hyang's severed right arm rolled away into the distance.

The arm of a once-legendary swordswoman began to stain the dirt black. As if the battle had never raged with deafening explosions just moments ago.

It was an eerily desolate sight.

Hoo.

With a short breath, Jung Yeonshin slowly pushed himself up on one knee.

The gathered onlookers reacted with varied expressions of shock.

Some gaped in silence. Others twisted their lips in conflicted emotions. Yet, not a single person spoke.

The legend of the Ghost Spirit Sword's blade had been shattered.

"..."

Though only a few breaths had passed, every expression had turned strange.

From the common folk observing from the cliff to the martial artists gathered on the nearby hills, all had witnessed it.

The Elder of the Tyrant Sword Tribe had been defeated by a young rising prodigy. Her right arm severed, her body mercilessly pummeled.

She had lived an entire lifetime as one of the greatest martial artists in Shaanxi, where three major sects were based. She had descended today to punish a young warrior, yet was instead the one thoroughly crushed.

A slow, vast wind swept through Great Moon Gorge, carrying disbelief, shock, and an overwhelming sense of awe.

Only one remained unshaken in the silence, the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, disguised as a mere master of Desolate Fortress.

Jung Yeonshin lifted himself, releasing his knee from the ground, straightening his battered torso. Then, slowly, laboriously, he parted his lips.

"...It was an excellent technique."

"I am glad it was of use. Though it was not the most pleasant memory, fate is truly strange."

Zhuge Hyeon had stepped beside him, the heir of the Zhuge Clan, suppressing his own shock.

He pondered. Within three years, the power dynamics of the martial world might shift completely.

Zhuge Hyeon recalled the day when he had seen the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad ascend the main gates of the Murim Alliance on his fan.

'To think he would bring down the Elder of the Tyrant Sword Tribe in such a manner... Jung Yeonshin's achievement is enormous. This is no ordinary feat. The Murim Alliance will be in chaos. The impact will be unlike the Grand Opening Tournament. Predicting the movements of the sects will be difficult.'

His gaze darkened.

"Hah. He actually pulled it off. That uncanny perception of his, no matter how many times I see it..."

It was a sound like the wind escaping from lungs.

The Ghost Spirit Sword, Yeo So-hyang, gasped faintly, lying at Jung Yeonshin's feet. Her karma had taken both of her arms.

Her left arm had been taken by the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan, and her right by the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad. Just before her fall, she had sealed her meridians, rendering her unable to move.

She could not even take her own life. All she could do was let out a faint whisper.

Jung Yeonshin, staring down at the old woman, finally spoke.

"I will interrogate you."

"Heh, heh... What a ridiculous statement..."

Yeo So-hyang curled her lips upward. As if to say he would not extract a single word from her. Her resolve was extraordinary.

She had lost an arm, had both her lower and mid-dantian shattered, and yet she still exuded the spirit of a true martial artist. The power that still lingered within her body was remarkable.

Jung Yeonshin tilted his head slightly.

"Before we fought, you were boasting. Don't you feel ashamed? There's nothing more ridiculous than—"

He trailed off, genuinely puzzled. Yeo So-hyang shut her mouth.

Jung Yeonshin no longer spared her a glance. As a master of the Thirteen Celestial Demons, she would not speak under ordinary interrogation.

'I have no skill in torture...'

It didn't matter.

As he turned his head, he caught sight of flowing black hair. It was Wave Swordswoman, Baek Miryeo.

She was approaching with a worried expression on her pale face. Despite the coarse texture of her disguise, her white robes billowed gracefully.

She possessed pure demonic energy.

Yet, like Jin Myengjo, the Blood Preservation Squad's leader, she showed no outward sign of it. Alongside Chung Myung, she was one of the most reliable senior members of the Radiant Demon Squad.

She would find out where Jung Hye-ah was. Injecting energy into someone's meridians was a terrifying form of torture in itself.

Meanwhile.

"The Ghost Spirit Sword... The Ghost Spirit Sword has been defeated!"

"Is she crippled beyond recovery... No, is she dead?"

"Another supernova has risen in the martial world. His power is close to that of demons and gods."

"Spread the word! The world must know!"

A belated uproar broke out across the gorge, like a miniature version of the martial world itself.

Carrier pigeons took flight in all directions, and some in the crowd fixed their eyes on Jung Yeonshin and his group.

Step.

Jung Yeonshin walked in silence. He spared the fallen Ghost Spirit Sword a glance, then gave a brief nod toward Lazy Flame Dragon.

He ignored the unspoken question in the man's eyes—'You want me to carry her?'—and continued forward.

The sunlight filtering through the sparse trees flickered noisily.

* * *

The Ming Dynasty is an empire.

It does not neglect the livelihood of its people, the foundation of its national power.

If it allowed martial artists to wield their blades above the Great Ming Code, the common people would suffer. And when public sentiment turned sour or tributes failed to arrive on time, governance would falter.

Thus, the government and the martial world were inseparable.

They could not be divided, for the martial world existed atop the lives of the people.

Even black-market sects that sustained themselves by collecting rent from inns and businesses had to pay bribes to the local magistrate.

Otherwise, they would receive an unwelcome visit from the White-Clad Warriors of Desolate Fortress. These men each held the strength of a dozen wandering martial artists and could crush a small sect single-handedly.

The moment an official reported them to Desolate Fortress, plaques of various sects would be torn down overnight. Bribes were the only safeguard against such a fate.

A famine.

A time when corruption between officials and martial sects was at its peak.

Dududu—

A lavish carriage sped down the main road, pulled by two fine steeds, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

The wide street fell silent. Windows of stores and shops on either side quietly shut or cracked open.

Anyone who valued their life knew to stay as still as a dead mouse.

For the official who had been watching had finally arrived.

The Sect War of Xi'an in Shaanxi, which had nearly escalated into a full-scale rebellion, had ended. Now came the time to restore order to the city's lucrative territories.

Voices from within the carriage mixed with the loud rumbling of the wheels.

"The Leader of Radiant Arts... I still can't believe it. I spent a fortune on silver, yet those lunatics have all disappeared. Vanished underground, as if swallowed whole."

"Is that not the nature of demonic factions? They destroy and are destroyed in turn. What loyalty can one expect from a group that constantly forms and dissolves?"

"Are you saying I miscalculated?"

"No, I merely..."

"You merely jest. Such nonsense."

"In any case, caution is advised. They say he's a leader of the demonic faction who even defeated the Ghost Spirit Sword. He must be a ruthless outlaw."

"Do you not know my origins? I understand lowly warriors better than anyone. True internal cultivation requires scholarly knowledge. If he possesses such martial prowess, he cannot be entirely ignorant. Only fools speak of government and martial law being untouchable by each other."

"Of course. I understand."

"He cannot harm a magistrate of the Great Ming in broad daylight. All I need to do is mind my demeanor. You, on the other hand, should keep your mouth shut. There's no need to provoke him unnecessarily. After all, we will be doubling our tax collections from them."

"Yes, my lord."

At that moment, the carriage gradually came to a stop.

They had arrived at their destination, a guesthouse with a separate annex.

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