CHAPTER 259

Ku-gu-gu-goong—

The ground shook.

A storm of white dust and fragmented stone shards surged like an explosion.

It was because of the semi-transparent, swirling wind that ceaselessly poured from the outstretched left palm of Jung Yeonshin.

Even the tremors beneath his feet were overwhelming. The peak they stood on suddenly quaked, blurring the air around them.

It was a sight difficult to believe, even when seen with one's own eyes.

An earthquake, caused by a human hand. Massive stone walls crumbled.

Jang Sun-il collapsed to the ground, unable to collect himself. His face was blank, his throat only managing to let out a strained groan.

His gaping mouth released suppressed gasps, and only when Bukgung Rin forcefully yanked his collar did the focus return to his eyes.

"Crazy…! This is crazy!"

While Jang Sun-il stammered out curses, Bukgung Rin grabbed him and stomped the ground, blurting out frantic questions that had no answer.

"You, you! Do you know that guy? Who is he? What is his identity?!"

The hem of her pants flapped violently, as if struck by a thunderous explosion. The heavy impact of her lightness technique was completely swallowed by the tremors beneath.

It felt as if the shockwave from the erupting palm strike was devouring all resonance in the area, spreading outward.

They needed to get away from the source of the explosion.

"That force! Is he even human…?!"

Bukgung Hu widened the distance alongside them. Even amid the urgency, his raised brows revealed his immense shock.

Even dealing with Wave King Kim Si-hu alone was difficult, he was an absolute master. The companion who had just displayed an otherworldly technique was the same. That single move was truly astonishing.

Who could have imagined such a thing?

Not even in their dreams.

Their young companion, it turned out, possessed a status that would allow him to reign as a supreme force, even in the Ice Palace.

"Just a little more… We need to get a little farther away!"

"Do you even need to say it?! Focus on reinforcing your internal energy properly!"

Bukgung Rin rebuked him.

The waves of energy flooding behind them lent weight to her words.

Even as they fled with their lightness techniques, the shockwaves from the supreme masters' clash continued to reach them with eerie clarity.

The undulating force pressing in grew so intense it was terrifying. Even the noble elites of the Ice Palace were forced into a desperate sprint.

It was impossible to spectate a battle between such high-level masters from below. If they got caught in a stray energy blast, they might not live to see another day.

They launched themselves sideways, quickly finding solid ground. At the same time, they scaled the hillside, circling around the boulder where Wave King Kim Si-hu had been standing.

Jang Sun-il dangled from Bukgung Rin's grasp like a ragdoll. She dropped him unceremoniously before standing side by side with her twin brother.

Below, at the center of the swirling dust, they saw their companion.

Draped in a veil of dust like a regal shroud, his elegant face appeared disconnected from reality.

He mesmerized those who watched, as if he were some otherworldly being. It was the same overwhelming sensation as gazing at the radiant cloud trails filling the frozen northern skies for too long.

Bukgung Rin slowly spoke.

"I sense those with blood-red hair. They're coming up from below, like a pack of wild dogs."

"There's more than just a few. I see those dark-red ones mixed in, too."

Bukgung Hu nodded grimly, and Jang Sun-il swallowed hard.

"Blood Fiends… and Blood Master Swordsmen…!"

"They must be infamous even in the Central Plains. You recognized them by name."

"As expected. Some of them are exceptionally strong, and they drink human blood. But more importantly, right now, that Wave King guy is the real problem."

Bukgung Rin, who had been watching below, furrowed her brows.

She continued.

"He's unscathed. He completely avoided the shockwave. A king of wanderers, they say… Seems his reputation isn't unfounded. His skill rivals the great warriors of our Ice Palace. He should be considered a transcendent being."

"Gilbeot's age is…"

Bukgung Hu trailed off.

"You're all so noisy. If you keep chattering, I'll snap your necks."

A smooth voice rang out from behind them, making them jolt in alarm.

A woman was sitting atop a large tree stump.

Her left eye was covered with a pitch-black eyepatch. Draped in a crimson robe, she looked as if she had been soaked in blood.

Her skin was as white as the noble elites of the Ice Palace who had mastered Ice Soul Arts.

So pale it was eerie, like a spirit born from the luminous frost of the mountain peaks.

Her flowing black hair shimmered with occasional streaks of crimson, shifting under the sunlight with an ominous glow.

A being of terrifying might.

Even with one eye closed, her presence was spine-chilling.

Jang Sun-il instinctively took a step back. A gut feeling, honed from experience, sent shivers down his spine.

"Blood Flame Cult… a noble!"

He whispered hoarsely, as if his throat had been seized.

But no one listened.

The Bukgung twins, suppressing their presence before the blood-soaked noble, were too focused on watching Gilbeot's battle.

And the supreme master of the Blood Flame Cult standing before them didn't so much as lift her eyelashes, as if sensing something. She completely ignored them.

She merely moved her lips.

"When did he… accumulate that much…"

Her closed eyelids trembled slightly. A smile, deep red as blood, formed on her lips.

To Jang Sun-il, she seemed completely insane. Many martial artists were eccentric, but she was on an entirely different level.

Her very existence seemed to follow a path beyond ordinary human understanding, and because of that, the boy was able to glance downward.

A ruined mountain path.

At its center, Jung Yeonshin had raised his Beiming Sword to meet the twin-blade strike of Wave King.

A cry, imbued with powerful inner energy, burst from Wave King's lips.

"Haa—!"

Another heavy tremor shook the earth, immediately after sparks flew from the clashing blades of the twin swords and the Beiming Sword.

Sharp shards of energy scattered, carving into the dirt.

He bore the title of 'King', a name rarely acknowledged in the martial world, yet he had carried it for decades.

His footwork was honed like blade energy. Even a single swing carried an impact that rivaled the ultimate techniques of elite martial masters.

A fine cut curled along Kim Si-hu's cheek as he locked swords with Jung Yeonshin. The smile of an exceptional vagabond.

At a distance close enough for their noses to nearly touch, his uncolored irises scanned his opponent's gaze and breathing.

"I didn't expect you to pull me in like that. Your palm technique is astounding, and your spirit is brazen. My leg almost got taken off."

"Did you accept a commission from the Blood Flame Cult?"

When the squad leader of Desolate Fortress asked calmly, Wave King lifted an eyebrow.

"They offered a large quantity of salt and provisions. No reason to refuse, is there? Slaughtering a few clueless peasants and some martial artists gets me food on my plate. Isn't that turning a killing sword into a living one? It's not like the authorities are feeding me."

"I can feed your sword… with your life. You die here."

Jung Yeonshin's lips shut into a firm line.

Claiming it was just for provisions, yet there wasn't a government office in the land that wouldn't want a swordmaster of his caliber.

True to his title, Wave King had chosen the freedom of the strong. As squad leader of Desolate Fortress, Jung Yeonshin had only one duty.

Eliminate.

He channeled his Radiant Wheel energy into his right hand, gripping his Beiming Sword.

The balance of power shifted. Wave King's twin blades, locked in a cross, were forced back. The refined force of the Radiant Wheel energy surpassed any common inner energy. Its purity was on another level.

"You!"

Kim Si-hu roared.

His twin blades dropped downward as he assumed a mounted stance, leaning his upper body back.

At the same moment, just before Jung Yeonshin's Beiming Sword could cleave his head in two, a violent gust surged from below.

Wave King's right foot shot upward. It was a rising kick.

The accumulated energy at the tip of his leather boot was sharp enough to send chills down one's spine.

Jung Yeonshin's blue eyes flashed.

Boom!

Jung Yeonshin stomped down on the man's knee with the sole of his foot. It was right after he had read his opponent's movement in advance using the Heaven-Piercing Technique.

Before the sharp gaze of Wave King could fully register his shock, Jung Yeonshin reversed his grip on his Beiming Sword and swung it down toward his opponent's abdomen.

His hand movements were so precise they bordered on artistry. As the sword traced a momentary arc, a faint breeze of Sword Thunder Flash Art, Judgement Qilin spread outward.

Kwaaaak!

The sword pierced the stone floor.

Lazy Donkey Roll.

Jung Yeonshin's deep blue eyes followed Kim Si-hu. Dust spiraled as Wave King rolled sideways across the ground.

His movement disregarded all dignity, yet when an absolute master executed the Lazy Donkey Roll, it resembled the mischievous play of an earth deity.

"Your swordplay is savage."

The king of vagabonds chuckled as he rose to his feet.

At that very moment, Jung Yeonshin was already swinging his sword down at his face.

The recoil of Wind Body sent his garments billowing as his blade carved a stark white line through the air, perfectly reflected in Wave King's eyes.

Zzeo-o-o-o-ong!

It was like thunder roaring. Wave King once again blocked the strike by crossing his twin sabers.

The atmosphere, crushed beneath the Beiming Sword's force, struggled against the pressure before finally rupturing. The impact of the footwork tore through the ground like an unfurling silk scroll.

Then, in an instant, Wave King vanished.

His reappearance was like an illusion, he now stood directly behind Jung Yeonshin.

Rakshasa Phantom Steps, the secret movement technique of Wave King. His ability to adapt on the fly was in an entirely different league. The depth of his Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown was undeniable.

"I'm faster at Lip Synchronization Technique, too."

His taunt came as swift as lightning, interwoven with his attack. A sliver of time.

His twin sabers sliced like shears toward Jung Yeonshin's back, his breath precisely synchronized with his inner energy, turning his strikes into streaks of light. The pinnacle of mastery.

Jung Yeonshin merely tilted his upper body and slapped his left palm backward.

Kwaaaaaang—!

A violent force burst forth like a thunderclap. The lingering afterimages of the saber strike, which had hovered like a moth's wingbeat, were obliterated without a trace.

A sudden gust of wind flipped Wave King's crimson robes and sent bloodied spittle scattering into the air.

A merciless tremor surged upward from the ground, and one of Wave King's twin sabers slipped from his grasp, tumbling through the air.

His left hand was empty.

His expression seemed to ask: How? Even if his opponent's energy control was more refined, it shouldn't have outpaced him.

The squad leader of Desolate Fortress replied with a blank expression.

What a fucking nuisance.

Step.

The moment he shifted his stance, Jung Yeonshin's figure blurred. The Radiant Wheel energy, now rotating with full intensity from the core of his being, expanded through his entire body.

It was the moment the acceleration of his Radiant Wheel reached its peak.

With his second step, the recoil of Wind Body propelled him forward like a lightning strike.

Hwaaaaaak—!

The instant Wave King felt the wind press against his skin, he realized it was impossibly heavy.

By the time he registered the sensation, Jung Yeonshin had already seized his face with his left hand.

Using Lip Synchronization Technique, he whispered,

"Die."

At the moment of activation, the Radiant River embedded in his grip responded.

As he expelled his inner breath, using his words as a battle cry, the micro-muscles in his left hand tightened, and a storm erupted from his grasp.

Kwaaaaaang!

The energy wave of his palm strike warped like turbulent currents.

The vortex, spinning violently as it carried dust and stone fragments, swallowed Wave King's headless body, hurling it downward.

Every beast in the vicinity held its breath at the battle of these mountain deities.

Jung Yeonshin casually shook his hand.

The smoke of Three Samadhi True Fire, igniting the bloodstains, scattered with the flutter of his sleeve. A simple, indifferent farewell to a man who had lived as the king of wanderers.

"..."

The squad leader of Desolate Fortress did not look back immediately. His tattered and blackened crimson robe simply swayed in the wind.

Gazing at the vast expanse of the winter mountains, he finally spoke.

"You must be Lady Ye."

"I don't use 'Ye' as my surname. I am of the Red Clan."

The Seventh Apostle, who had approached silently, answered with an ambiguous expression.

A faint smile formed at the corner of Jung Yeonshin's lips.

"As if you'd ever speak straightforwardly."

"Hm? I've always been honest, though."

She widened her lone crimson eye in feigned innocence. Only then did Jung Yeonshin finally turn his gaze toward her.

"What do you want from me?"

The Demonic Faction was fundamentally built upon madness and desire. It was composed of people whose own hearts were mysteries even to themselves.

Since he had asked seriously, he expected a long, drawn-out response.

But he was wrong.

Sunlight gleamed riotously in the Seventh Apostle's ruby-red eye.

"I want you to die in my arms. I want to be the last voice heard by the Incarnation of Martial Arts. I will say it clearly—your life was brilliant, and I revere only you."

"For a moment, I forgot. Facing you makes madness feel tiresome."

"Then why do you keep talking? I'm thrilled, you're making me feel like I've returned to the moment I achieved Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown."

"Enough."

At that moment, Jung Yeonshin recognized exactly what he was feeling.

It had been a long time.

It was the same emotion he felt when the children of Xinye had excluded him from their games.

Watching them secretly as they flew kites or played shadow puppets, he would mimic their hand gestures in solitude.

'I wonder what that feels like. That must be nice.'

He suppressed the envy.

He should call it Slowed Gathering at the Crown from now on.

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