The fortress stirred with restless energy.

First came the presences—dark figures hurtling toward Ak Su-rim. Then, the smiths stationed at the forge stoked their fires with what few hands they had, and from the distant northern granaries, nameless disciples threw open the gates.

Meanwhile, across the various houses under Ipwang Fortress and the Seventeen Grand Pavilions, hundreds of masters were dressing in ceremonial discipline. Their martial uniforms, each dyed a different hue, were pressed with precise flame control, while their unique weapons were bound tightly to their waists.

—"Such a grand mobilization... could it be they’re going after the Ears?"

—"I’m one of the Ears myself."

To those attuned to qi, the entire fortress rang out like the first burst of dawn—loud and unmistakable.

It wasn’t just orderly.

It was synchronized like a martial form. The entire Ipwang Fortress moved in unison. Even the lips of the faded Warlord facing Jeong Yeon-shin twitched in muted admiration.

"A departure ceremony is sacred. It’s no place for me to intrude. Let’s speak later."

Whoosh.

Only Mun Gok’s eyes followed the man as he vanished into the gray sunlight. Jeong Yeon-shin faintly smiled, seeing how Ak Su-rim now stood at the core of the many Lords gathered.

‘As she always deserved to be.’

He had entrusted her, along with Mongbi of the Jeong Family East Wing, with the soul of the fortress. She had since become the leader of the Divine Sword Corps. She was never one to betray her station.

At that moment, Mun Gok spoke flatly.

"The Lords of the Myung Clan have, with impressive insight, shown no hostile intent... yet their very existence is perilous."

"I heard reports he commands seventy-two swords."

"Yeo Ryeong and Shin Tu secured some records. Not only are there mentions in the Ming Dynasty, but even in the final historical scrolls of the Yuan. He appeared with clans that crossed the Gate, resisted Yuan exploitation with force... He is a monster that spares neither friend nor foe. My Lord, perhaps it’s time to rescind your order regarding the Divine Sword convict."

1. If the opponent is of high strength.

2. If the situation is manageable.

3. Capture him alive and unharmed.

I will turn him into my weapon.

That was the command of the Half-Wit—one who had, ironically, been aided many times by former enemies. The Seventh Apostles had been spared under such rationale too, until the Emperor issued a general pardon.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

"I can’t rescind it now."

Just last night, word had arrived of the death of Manhwi, the Sky-Soaring Guest. That famed storyteller of the unorthodox world had relayed through rumor that even a broken blade carried a beginning, a climax, and an end.

“The Winter Dream Sword... he once called it his first wife.”

A winter dream was now buried in a spring mountain.

Suddenly, the will of Hyeon So-baek, the Sword Saint, echoed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind. He, too, wished to see many spring blossoms bloom. And so, he spoke slowly.

"To sever the Gate, the mind must be intact. Let’s see if he remains noble when I question him. After that, whether you tear his limbs apart or not is up to you."

"How noble is he...? That, too, intrigues me."

The corners of Mun Gok’s lips flickered as if to rise, though they didn’t quite get there. The old wounds he had once received from the Seven Shadows twitched in concert, but they did not break the composure soaked into his very flesh.

It was clear, even at a glance, that he didn’t like the faded Warlord. For one like Mun Gok, who revered the Four Books and Three Classics, a man who declared himself king despite having no people to care for—how could he be anything but an eyesore?

‘So he finds him distasteful.’

Jeong Yeon-shin rolled his shoulder, now freed of all acupuncture needles. A crunching sound accompanied the faint sensation of micro-vessels realigning.

There would be no laming of limbs like the God of War had suffered.

With composed hands, he bowed toward Shin-ui.

"Elder Mok, thank you. Especially for reattaching So-bin’s arm last night..."

"I hear you're preparing for departure. Don’t tell me you plan to drag me along?"

"That would be more than I could hope for."

"Don’t be absurd. If I do that, I won’t avoid integration. I’m only sane now because I’m cheating fate."

Shin-ui shook his head.

"I meant I might need to treat the Ears, not you lot. Not that it matters. The integrated Ears have regenerative ability anyway."

"You mean the ability from the Tree of the World?"

Mun Gok interjected bluntly.

Shin-ui had to tilt his head straight up to meet Mun Gok’s eyes, but despite his evident displeasure, Mun Gok continued without pause.

"Qi, spirit, sense, and life—its growth includes all of these. Energy reserves, upper dantian clarity, sensory amplification, regeneration. In short, it cultivates both what you’re born with and what must be trained."

"Exactly. A miracle technique, the greatest of ancient and modern times—yet one that only those saturated in Ear bloodlines can wield."

The word miracle held a peculiar weight. Mun Gok clearly felt it too.

"How strange... If all the world’s earth-qi could be used like that, the demonic sects would’ve been driven out of the Long Wall ages ago."

A faint smirk appeared on Shin-ui’s lips.

"Back then, Gunreung was still alive. The Tree of the World faced no threat of collapse."

The statement carried too many meanings. Mun Gok fell silent.

Jeong Yeon-shin sensed, just faintly, what the Emperor Gunreung had meant to the Six Original Star Lords.

Today’s Lord of Ipwang Fortress must shoulder the world without such a superhuman. He must protect as many allies as possible. That realization threatened to overwhelm him—so he spoke up immediately.

"I understand the concerns of Mun Gok Yi Chun-gap. For the Myung Clan to accept such ascent so quickly... surely there must be a cost."

"A great one."

Suddenly, flames of Samadhi Flame surged from Shin-ui’s hands. As if disinfecting the shoulder wounds where needles had pierced, he ran his hands over them, causing pale smoke to hiss into the air.

"There will be a very, very steep price."

He said no more.

Even Shin-ui seemed uncertain of what was to come.

Jeong Yeon-shin gazed silently at the several acupuncture needles that had pierced his body. From their tips, wisps of steam gently rose.

Briefly.

They resembled dying embers clinging to dried kindling.

***

The wide horizon shimmered like a campfire.

It was the boundary where dawn’s sky touched the edge of the earth — a direction where one shouldn’t be able to see the horizon, at least until last year.

Because this was Beijing.

Golden roof tiles lay sprawled across sunken ground, and from the ruins, pieces of stone would occasionally launch themselves into the air.

Thwip. Thock.

"Residual waveforms from the Northern God of War. A monstrous man indeed," murmured a middle-aged man in a green martial uniform as he snatched a shard of stone that had suddenly sprung upward. He crushed it against the hilt of his sword and glanced over his shoulder.

"They say he’s a cripple now. Yet how could one grow so powerful like that? Any guesses?"

"Who knows," replied a massive figure in black — a giant from the Myung Clan.

His hands were bound behind his back, dragged forward by other green-clad martial artists.

With the space below his right ankle missing, he had to hop with every step.

"How could someone like me fathom such transcendent mastery? I’m just a spectacle for mongrel /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ wretches like you."

"Strange, isn’t it? You’ve clearly been marked with Demon Blood, yet you’re answering questions, even walking. Must be the Seomye Martial Vein, huh?"

"You’d best shatter my meridians and seal my dantian. Otherwise, one day, I’ll butcher the lot of you."

"That won’t do," the green-clad middle-aged man shook his head.

"Emperor Lee Teum-je himself has ordered it. He has questions for Yeonhwa Nata — you are to be delivered intact."

"Intact?" Hahoe Wi-jin glanced down at his missing ankle, to which the man only smiled faintly.

"A nation called Daesun has just been founded. The fact that this is the worst treatment our side has given a core member of the enemy’s main force... well, it’s quite unusual."

"You people are a real pain in the ass," Hahoe Wi-jin snapped, eyes flicking toward the vast horizon.

A strange expression crossed his face, as if he were seeing something distant — or longing for someone.

The middle-aged man, sensing the shift, quickly changed the subject.

"Back to our analysis of the God of War. Surely the Heavenly Dragon Corps Captain, Heavenly Lord of Martial Strength, played a central role in the Northern Campaign. His insights must be sharp.

Only four people on our side are stronger than you now. Emperor Lee Teum-je, the former Eight Lords... people like us, mid-tier nobodies, don’t exactly have access to them."

Even while being dragged forward, Hahoe Wi-jin’s lips twisted into a thick sneer.

"At least you have enough sense not to rank me below the Seven Treasures Rabble or those four fools. Even if they founded a nation."

"The Seven Treasures Divine Lord and the Four Noble Ladies outrank you in status, yes — but if you say they surpass your martial power, then you’ve clearly neglected your cultivation."

The man chuckled, looking Hahoe Wi-jin up and down.

"...Though that might not matter much longer. No matter how feared the ‘Black of the Northern Campaign’ was, you can’t speak for the world with one leg.

And infiltrating Luoyang? That was your biggest mistake. You’re not even a seasoned agent of the Haomun."

"Give me a single prosthetic crafted with true power, and I’ll take my strength back."

A cold grin curved across Hahoe Wi-jin’s lips.

"And conveniently, you’ve imprisoned some of the Iron Clan artisans from the Famed Artisan City who could’ve made it. How shameless."

"We lack many things — sugar for the children, a God of War to serve Emperor Lee Teum-je like Namje had, a fortress like Ipwang under the King of the Wildlands, a bloodline like the Myung Clan’s... and warriors like you, Heavenly Dragon Lord, who defy even death.

We have nothing."

"No shame either."

The guards escorting him flinched.

A large circle had been gouged into the earth by the martial current of Jeong Family East Wing — a sign not part of any standard scenario.

He hadn’t just been marked with Demon Blood.

Three of the Four Noble Ladies had laid martial seals on him, restricting his internal power.

For Daesun’s masters, every step he took was beyond comprehension.

"Word is, Emperor Lee Teum-je will arrive soon. We must bring you to him."

The green-clad man quickened his pace.

Hahoe Wi-jin’s towering form began dragging forward again. The man and woman gripping his arms were clearly masters of external martial power.

Hahoe Wi-jin glanced between them and smirked.

"Compared to Lord Jeong’s arm muscles, your grip feels like sugar candy. Let’s see what this Lee Teum-je is plotting. What could he possibly want to ask Lord Jeong about using this body?"

His lips were pale white.

Blood had been dripping endlessly from the severed ankle for days.

The Four Noble Ladies’ sublime sealing technique had stopped even the bleeding.

If not for the disheveled old man continuously pressing rags to the wound, Hahoe Wi-jin might have passed out already.

He spoke to the old man, who was gently wiping his wound with a worn cloth.

"These brutes don’t know how to listen. Have you heard anything, old man?"

The old man shook his thin neck.

"I am but a lowly wretch myself... but."

"But?"

"I’ve heard that after the Ipwang Fortress Lord’s infamous interrogation swept the continent, the Emperor fell into deep thought."

"Emperor Lee Teum-je?"

"Y-Yes."

"What kind of thought?" 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"You know the saying — one life for one gate.

So the question was... could the Ipwang Fortress Lord trade a person for a Gate?"

The old man’s words trailed off like a mouse fleeing into a hole.

The green-clad officer berated him.

"Who told you to talk so much?"

"M-My apologies...!"

Whoosh.

Just then, the shimmering heat waves on the horizon thickened.

The sunlight swelled like a cresting tide, and from the far north, the shimmer took on the shape of a human shadow.

At a glance, it looked like a black dot — like a careless ink blot on pure-white parchment.

"...?"

Something needle-thin rose sharply from that black dot.

If the distance were even a little closer, it would’ve clearly appeared as a sword.

But the moment Daesun’s masters focused their detection arts, the image truly became that of a sword-wielding figure.

What the...?

Even Hahoe Wi-jin’s eyes widened — the same man who’d just cursed these “infuriating wretches.”

The figure was moving at a speed he’d only ever seen from Jeong Yeon-shin.

"It’s human! But that speed...!"

"The one who broke through Shanhaiguan? That’s impossible! The distance is still...!"

Time stretched like northern magma.

An arm, seemingly formed of heavy haze, rose above the silhouette’s head.

A notably high overhead stance.

To Hahoe Wi-jin, it resembled the opening salute of the Simgeuk Qilin.

But what swept past them wasn’t the Qilin’s wind.

The moment the familiar sword pointed toward the sky—

CRACK—

The green-clad officer and the two external power users on either side liquefied like clay. Alive.