The sun blazed for the first time in a while.

From the window of the Lord's office, sunlight shimmered like a translucent banner. As if each wave of light was a fragment of memory, Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the night before. It had been filled entirely with Ak Su-rim’s voice.

It had started right after Jin Myeong-jo coolly explained the condition of Yeon-shin’s Baekhoe Acupoint.

In a way, it felt as if his illness had been exposed to his family. But since it was Jin Myeong-jo who had spoken, Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent.

After all, someone would have to prepare for what came after.

—“You insane blood ghost bastard! What did you say? What the hell did you just say?! If that’s a lie, you’re getting beaten to hell and back! What are the damn ear-freaks even doing, not verifying this?! Hey, you punk from the Cheong household... You knew?! Everyone but me...?”

Any trace of her transcendent dignity had completely vanished.

But then again, Ak Su-rim’s spiritual core had long surpassed the need for the Myeong Clan’s sensory verification. Her insight into lies and deceit was entirely her own.

In the shimmering sunlight, her image was vivid.

She had appeared before him in a flicker and crouched at the far end of the round table, reaching her hand toward his head.

—“This... this...”

Her long fingers hovered just short of touching his hair. Ak Su-rim froze, as though she had brushed against a demonic pulse in the air.

She could have easily examined the Baekhoe Acupoint with a spear-hand grip, but in the end, she neither grabbed nor touched. Whether it was her spear or Jeong Yeon-shin himself, they both would’ve flown across the Threefold River all the same.

—“I have committed a discourtesy... to the Fortress Lord.”

That final sentence came with an uncharacteristically broken breath of internal energy.

Then, Ak Su-rim had suddenly smashed through the ceiling and vanished into the sky.

It had all happened too fast for anyone to stop her—but no one had tried.

Even Jeong Yeon-shin, as Fortress Lord, had only offered a cautious remark at the Wonpyeong Swordmaster’s meeting: that the repair costs should come out of Ak Su-rim’s monthly salary.

Such was the nature of the Divine Sword Corps Leader.

Just like the Tyrant Hero or the Mad Sword, her actions might be wild and unpredictable, but there remained faith that she would return with an answer.

It was the same heavy trust that had long weighed on the shoulders of the Yeonhwa Nata. Naturally, Ak Su-rim would have to grow used to it.

And so the day passed into twilight. And now—this moment.

She’ll return soon enough.

He had appointed her himself. At this point, Jeong Yeon-shin stopped worrying about her.

It was a day packed with obligations.

“Did you cough, my lord?”

Dan Jeong-jeong’s voice came through the thick stone door. All of Ipwang Fortress’s attendants were capable of detecting qi.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

“Say I didn’t wake.”

“Understood.”

They had nearly held a second meeting at the Wonpyeong Swordmaster’s hall. There was only one topic.

How to save Jeong Yeon-shin.

Though Shin-ui already certified there’s no cure to be found outside...

Wild suggestions had poured forth.

First, his maternal uncle Ma Jin confessed he’d been poking around Yeon-shin’s brain with Jeongga Internal Force like it was muscle.

Then, Elder Council Chief Shin Byeok declared he would offer up the reclusive former Seventeenth Lords holed up in Hohwang Fortress to be Shin-ui’s test subjects—those whose Baekhoe Acupoints had been thoroughly damaged.

Shin Seol-ha, the Ipwang Shin Family head, insisted her father be included. She was Shin Byeok’s daughter.

Yun So-yu, the Master of the Yullyeong Unit, proposed relocating to the lake of the Celestial Tree Gate, but Qingmyeong, the Bright Wing Lord and a native of that sect, blocked the idea.

That lake was already a grave of headless unorthodox corpses, their skulls pierced at the crown.

—“The water can’t regenerate anymore. It’s tainted filth now.”

By that time, Jeong Yeon-shin had already flicked Ma Jin’s forehead with a gust of qi—but couldn’t bring himself to do the same to Qingmyeong.

Many were rejected outright.

One of the Seventh Apostates whispered they should mix blood.

The Tianlong Corps leader Wi Ji-geuk said he’d interrogate his brother, Wi Ji-myohwa, over the death of the Zhongnan Sword Immortal.

Even Shin So-bin begged to use the Soul Transfer Technique from the Cult Master so she could live within him.

Yeon-shin almost wanted Master Jade Sword of Ipwang Fortress to rename all of these lunatics. But amid the madness, one realistic proposal emerged.

Summon not just the Divine Sword Corps, but even the elders within the Gate, and strike the Celestial Tree first.

So that Jeong Yeon-shin would have no regrets.

—“If we cut down the monsters within that bark, the Lord’s name will live forever.”

It was Jin Myeong-jo.

With Jeong Yeon-shin’s approval, the entire Fortress had begun to move.

Jeong Yeon-shin himself descended from his bed like a ghost.

The Seventh Apostle lying beside him, snoring softly through irregular breaths of internal energy, was left undisturbed.

Having acknowledged his father at last, the Grandmaster of Jeongga Internal Force had evolved once more. A master of pressure points and inner flow control—nothing had happened.

“Keep pretending to sleep. Don’t do anything foolish.”

“...Huh?”

A slit of blood-red gaze peeked out from under the pillow. Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t meet it. He turned away.

“That’s your prison. You’ll only move when I say so.”

Whoosh!

The moment his foot touched the ground, space shimmered with soft light and changed form.

The scent of medicinal herbs surged. He had arrived at Shin-ui’s quarters.

“Every time I see it, it surprises me. Didn’t expect the footwork of a beggar-king to look so refined.”

Jeong Yeon-shin offered a faint smile.

Rumble—

The immense shock of his lightness technique had been absorbed completely through the Yongcheon Acupoint in his sole.

No recoil could exceed the containment of Jeongga Internal Force now.

Shin-ui caught a glimpse of it and muttered irritably.

“The master who expelled you... he never wielded power so crudely.”

“If you’d elaborate...”

Jeong Yeon-shin tried to brush past the word expelled and added quietly,

“I’ll listen carefully.”

“Then listen while getting stuck with needles. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

This was about the right arm he had reconnected using Jeongga Internal Force after it had been severed by the Dragonwill Blade Lord.

He’d once been warned he might never walk properly again.

Jeong Yeon-shin immediately sat. Dispelling his defensive qi, relaxing all his muscles—at that instant, Shin-ui stabbed three large needles into his shoulder.

Pluck—

Yeon-shin couldn’t help asking,

“This is treatment, right?”

“Your expelled master—Wei Ga-hae—after reaching the supreme realm, never let any enemy technique touch him.

He simply danced with the sword like a willow branch, letting the drifting blade return all things to the state of Wu Wei.”

“I don’t get it. The sword I knew was terrifying enough to compress the air itself.”

“Then thank him for retaining a shred of sanity. The natural sword is just an aid to wu wei ziran—non-doing, natural being. Once you truly reach the level of speaking of past and present as one, you’ll understand it to your very bones.”

“Wu wei ziran... It didn’t feel like Wudang’s Taiji, though.”

“Of course not.”

Shin-ui chuckled broadly and then stabbed another large needle into Yeon-shin’s chest.

“The only thing Jang Sam-bong ever taught your master was how to brew Bi Gok Dan pills.

No matter how much Manhwi pushed him, he never shared anything more.

Your expelled master became a Grandmaster on his own, drawing inspiration from three people.”

“Three?”

“The obvious ones are Jang Sam-bong and Manhwi. But the last... no one knows.

Whatever it is, he hides it in his spiritual core—like the old martial adage that a third of every true art must be concealed.”

Then Shin-ui added, almost bitterly,

“I only know this much because of that damned Celestial Tree that tried to kill me.”

......

A shared drink with his childhood master flickered in his memory.

Perhaps—just perhaps—he was the third inspiration.

“To recreate the inscrutable blade of Jang Sam-bong in his own style... to embody all seventeen arts of the Divine Sword Corps as one person...

Who could ever defeat such a being?

If you truly want to reclaim your expelled master entirely...

Then you must uncover everything about that third person. Their life—down to its deepest layer.”

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly remembered something.

Each time he’d received instruction from his master, the distance between them had always been unbearably close.

Every time, the fine hairs on his body would stand on end.

Their breaths would mingle.

There had always been that trance-like feeling, like a shiver threading through a dream.

And when Jeong Yeon-shin focused on her internal breathing, the subtle currents at her fingertips—had she, too, grown stronger simply through touching him? Like the peerless masters who never ceased advancing.

And then, there were the Myeong Clan's spiritual unifiers.

It truly was the greatest house under heaven.

Even if a preemptive strike succeeded, Ipwang Fortress would inevitably suffer losses.

Which meant Jeong Yeon-shin would have to lose someone—again.

Not just one. Likely several.

He thought about this as needles pierced into him, slowly and deeply.

What should I do so ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ I don’t cry...

It was something he’d have to ponder for a very long time.

Then—

“I’ve come only because you wouldn’t come to me.”

A man’s voice rang out right beside him.

The tone had a strange cadence, like it followed a rhythm.

At the same moment, the sky beyond the window dimmed, like the glow of a dying lantern.

“I came in person.”

When Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head, he saw a man clad in nothing but gray—head to toe.

A faded military king.

Jeong Yeon-shin looked up at him with an expression of indifference.

“Bold of you.”

“Are you evaluating me?”

“You came here trying to steal away Shin-ui... and yet you're doing something suspicious right in front of me.”

“I arrived while you were still here. There’s nothing suspicious about that. Unless you think I’ll succeed.”

“That’s a fair point.”

Only after Jeong Yeon-shin nodded did the Faded King crack a faint smile and take a seat across from him.

And for a long while, he stared directly into Yeon-shin’s face.

Clearly, his eyes had been fixed on Shin-ui’s VIP Pavilion from the start.

Grandmaster of the Palhwan Divine Art.

Destroyer of Shin Yae-hyeon.

The former betrothed of the previous Ipwang Fortress Lord.

With his perception techniques, even the Swiftest Under Heaven could be tracked.

Click. Tap.

Even then, Jeong Yeon-shin offered up his shoulder to Shin-ui’s needles.

His right arm was momentarily unusable.

For a transcendent being like the Faded King, that opening was more than enough.

But Jeong Yeon-shin had secretly slipped away from the defense formation using sublime anti-tracking techniques.

The Faded King’s voice flowed like a melody into the air.

“I ask you sincerely: do you feel no tension at all?”

“In my own domain, you mean?”

The question deepened the Faded King’s smile.

“A poor choice of words. It was meant to be more... layered.”

“What should I be tense about in my own stronghold?”

At that moment, one side of the paper window dimmed.

A shadow loomed outside—far too large for an ordinary man.

Only a giant could cast a shadow like that.

Mun Gok was approaching.

The strategist of the Divine Sword Corps.

As if he had already predicted when the young Lord of the Fortress would wake from a sleepless night haunted by blood-soaked beauties—and where he’d go first.

The Faded King glanced briefly in that direction, but immediately returned his gaze to Yeon-shin.

As if Mun Gok were merely a half-wielded weapon not yet firmly grasped by the young lord.

“I can tell you the truth.

About how bloodlines different from the Han came through the Gate to this land.

How the Myeong Clan built the Ming Dynasty.

What it really means to ‘cut down the Celestial Tree.’”

“...”

“I can even offer you swordmasters—myself, Geomjon, and Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol.

And I’ll help you bury your former betrothed in peace.

But I have one condition.”

“Speak.”

“Give me Ak Mongbi.”

It was such an abrupt demand that it felt almost ascetic in its detachment.

For a moment, silence reigned.

The request was open to countless interpretations.

As Jeong Yeon-shin’s head tilted slightly in thought—

Mun Gok’s voice boomed like a spring breeze turning the pages of a book.

“Report from Yeo Ryeong.”

“Speak.”

“They’ve pinpointed the Celestial Tree’s location.”

[Prepare for deployment.]

It was Jeong Yeon-shin’s Six-Harmonies Martial Order.

At that instant, a cold wind wrapped around all directions.

Another giant—distinct from Mun Gok—raised what felt like a massive flag.

It was Ak Su-rim’s presence, rising somewhere within the fortress.

The Muk Ryeon Spear—the Clan Leader Command Token of the Ak Family that Yeon-shin had asked Dan Jeong-jeong to deliver.

[Prepare for deployment.]

It was her voice.

Immediately, the entire fortress stirred.

Countless warriors rose from their beds with one hand resting on their swords.

The air grew denser.

Layers upon layers of sword auras rose and crossed in the sky.

In the earliest hours of dawn, all of the Fortress had awakened.

It was Jeong Yeon-shin’s sword.