It was a forest. A place where lush green vegetation thrived. Gentle glimmers floated through the air like fireflies—crystallized forms of the deep earth energy, jiqi.

Children sat in a wide circle nearby, playing with those faint lights as if memorizing spells—pushing them away or caressing them, giggling in pure innocence. They didn’t appear to be older than ten. Every one of them bore sharply pointed ears, like blades—true-blooded members of the Myeong race.

At the center of the group sat a gaunt old woman. Despite her age-lined face, her ears remained smooth and unmarred. She began speaking to the children.

“Let’s see now. The Yozoku warrior who introduced himself as Do Hyo has landed in that glittering palace. Of the four noble wives of Daesun who once resided there, three surpass him in skill. Yet even so, piercing through the Heavenly Armored Shell of a Yozoku isn’t something easily done. Yes... that’s no easy task for anyone. Only the Divine Sword Corps, who became exceptional on their own, managed that.”

Wind Queen Wi Yeon.

Her tone was calm and deliberate.

“The Yozoku, who descended so suddenly upon the Forbidden City, came from the distant, remote Demonic Realm. They’re fearless—barbaric, even. Not as precious as you, of course.”

A smile traced her deeply wrinkled lips—gentle and kind, like a grandmother telling bedtime stories to her grandchildren.

“Clan Matriarch Grandma.”

A young boy raised his hand.

“Is the Heavenly Armored Shell really that tough? Stronger than the internal energy shield of Bonmok’s leaf art?”

“Damnro Light-Division was a divine art recently created by the holy Tree itself, was it not? As it weaves together the experiences and impressions of every living clan like branches of one root, its transcendence cannot be matched by a single individual’s martial arts. But the Heavenly Armored Shell was a martial technique that formed a border across the entire Great Wall. I suppose... we’d need to test it directly to know for sure.”

“Grandma, you’re smiling!”

“Because I had a pleasant dream. This Damnro Light-Division shall be the art that protects countless clans in the great battle to come.”

Fweeing—

A strange, delicate sound. It erupted from the scarred palm of Wi Yeon. In an instant, seven layers of translucent qi shimmered and faded like falling leaves. And the moment the internal shield vanished, the surrounding air rushed inward with a pull.

It was a natural flow, infused with earth energy. The children laughed, delighted, as the wind that scratched their heads passed through.

Wi Yeon smiled and continued.

“Now then, let’s return to the Forbidden City.”

Another child asked,

“Did the Northern Empire’s lackeys die?”

“You mean Do Hyo?”

Wi Yeon shook her head slowly.

“Brazenly, even his comrades dared to set foot upon the ancient ruins of the palace. There were nearly a hundred of them. They crushed the high-level Daesun warriors who defended it like grinding roots underfoot. That, at least, was a good thing...”

“That’s a relief! It used to be your home, Grandma!”

“But Lee Teum-je’s wives escaped the palace. Some fled as ethereal and elusive as immortals, others as wretched as stray dogs with their fur all gone... But, oh dear.”

“What happened?”

“The former head of the Gongsun Family stood in their way. He appeared with a new Divine Sword. He even engraved the words ‘Sungye’—‘Exalting Art’—onto the hilt. Such a sentimental old fool.”

Then Wi Yeon went on to describe how Gongsun Wol, the commander of the Light Army, cleaved twenty Yozoku warriors in half with a single sword strike.

“With that one strike, the remaining eighty or so were pushed back to the outer edges of the palace. That was the shape of true martial warfare.”

“Didn’t the Simmuryun Lord once shatter hundreds of internal shields in a single move?”

“They weren’t warriors who had mastered the Heavenly Armored Shell. Lord Gun Wi-hu has never lost a battle. And the nickname ‘Warlike Emperor’ was just mockery from Gunreung.”

“So the previous Gongsun Family Head was incredible?”

“You can barely trace the original form of the Gongsun Sword Technique anymore. He lost the root. He couldn’t even sense my gaze.”

“Isn’t strength all that matters?”

A young girl raised her hand and asked. Wi Yeon slowly shook her head, her eyes half-closed.

“The ultimate martial path is always returning to origin. The one who sees themselves most clearly—that person is truly invincible. Just like the most unorthodox swordmaster on the day he died.”

Then she added:

“After all, a supreme master is someone who could kill anyone. But the one who wields their martial art with absolute precision—that is the one who is truly peerless.”

The children didn’t quite grasp the meaning, but Wi Yeon didn’t mind. She resumed her account of the Forbidden City’s present state—as if nurturing future successors.

“The warriors bearing the Blue Dragon Banner were the first to flee the palace. That old man called ‘Invincible Yi Beom’ escaped with them.”

“I know the Blue Dragon Banner! You said it was the sacred artifact used to control that airheaded Supreme Swordmaster, right? That Daesun poured tons of effort into making it.”

Another child raised a hand, beaming. Wi Yeon nodded.

“The Daesun troops stationed around Beijing have begun their retreat. Their numbers are in the thousands, and their momentum is fierce. They’re all dashing back to the Forbidden City with lightness techniques.”

“How did the Yozoku reach the palace?”

“They smashed through the northern garrison by force. Their qigong movement can’t be blocked by human effort. And they’re so fast... Right now, they’re blowing through the Blue Dragon Banner users and Yi Beom while they’re still alive.”

“What about the banner?”

“Peony Immortal Hyung Ran, one of the noble wives, grabbed it and lifted it high. But that brute from the Hwangbo Clan stomped her back. With one step, her flesh disappeared, revealing stark white bone. She screamed. Her spinal muscles and pressure points melted away along with her defensive qi. So you all must be cautious of his Polar Yang Technique. It seems to be the sole counter to Damnro Light-Division.”

“Didn’t you say that Hwangbo brute was terminally ill?”

“He bonded with a partner and became human again.”

For the first time, Wi Yeon’s wrinkled eyes curved into true warmth. This transcendent figure, who viewed worldly affairs like a passing game, now spoke as if recalling a beloved tale.

“He enriched his foundation. I no longer know how long he’ll live. If you marry well, perhaps you’ll become like that too. Just as I did.”

“...?”

“That Hwangbo bastard just landed, snapped the Blue Dragon Banner in half, and set it aflame. The so-called Master of the Broken Sword Sect will now fade into history as a meaningless name. Meanwhile, outside the Forbidden City, the Yozoku and Daesun troops have clashed. It’s chaos.”

“Who will win?”

“Unless one of the former Eight Lords of the Yozoku emerges to face the Southern Saint, this battle will likely drag on. Of course, most other Daesun masters will be crushed by the Heavenly Armored Shell. But we needn’t concern ourselves.”

Because the only real threats to Cheonhamok now were Jeong Yeon-shin and the God of War.

Suddenly, Wi Yeon raised her fingers. The children’s bodies froze in place. The ground, in contrast, began to tremble faintly.

Rumble!

The energy burst forth from the children’s bodies. Countless leaves fluttered through the clearing for a moment—then settled. Wi Yeon’s sleeve rose gently, revealing the transformed forms of the children.

Now appearing around the age of fourteen or fifteen.

Their bones had extended like tree trunks—Bone Renewal.

Their skin stretched into elegant forms—Flesh Transformation.

Each one held a slightly more mature air.

They beamed with youthful joy.

“I might outgrow Wi Jin by her eightieth birthday.”

“Ha Hu is your friend? Outer clans always grow up fast.”

“They’re worldly outsiders who expelled their worldly qi. Bonmok is a trueblood clan of slow maturity.”

This was the result of hundreds of years of drawing on the earth’s energy across the world beneath the heavens. In martial terms, their clan name itself was as prestigious as a martial sect.

“We are the strongest clan of all eras.”

They passed down political knowledge, outlined the unique traits of the era’s strongest warriors, and prepared each bloodline as the next military force. Endless replenishment of high-level Myeong warriors. Preparation, and more preparation.

Since the day Jang Sam-bong appeared.

Cheonhamok was relentless in its preparation to survive. Thus, with the threat of Tree-Slaughter looming ever closer, the Myeong race had come to be called by a new epithet—Demonic Immortals.

They were no longer seen as transcendent beings.

The merchant caravans that once lavished Bonmok with supplies now departed silently, leaving only their cargo wagons behind without a shred of pleasantry. To Clan Matriarch Wi Yeon, this was trivial.

“Soon, Yong Ji, Bukmyeong, and countless other swords of the clan shall arrive.”

Her lips, now dry like drought-stricken fields, parted at last.

“Rouse the training of your Upper Dantian with urgency.”

“Why?”

“We intend to observe Jeong Yeon-shin, the Lord of Ipwang Fortress. The aftershocks may reach us.”

Hwoom!

Her vision changed.

Gone was the ragged elder with the haggard gaze, watching the body crushed under Tae Yeom-ryong’s heel. Reality flipped like the page of a book.

It was a barren plain. The soil held no moisture, not even oil. A landscape where nothing seemed capable of growing. Ironically, the only thing that stirred was the spring breeze, gently sweeping through.

Once, this had been a city. Now, the wreckage of countless structures lay scattered across the sand, as if something enormous had chewed them apart. The city walls had been shattered and buried beneath the earth. The colors of the debris ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) remained vivid—proof that this ruin had become desolate only within the past year.

At its center lay a pale, misty pit. A gate.

“Hogwang Fortress, Wuchang.”

Her vision sharpened. Naturally—this was a time to observe someone.

Just then, Shin Byeok, the former Elder Council Chief of Ipwang Fortress, had entered the gate. At his side: a woman in a long, violet robe—not dressed in any obvious divine regalia, but carrying a mundane presence that seemed anything but. Who was she?

There was no time to dwell on the question.

In front of the gate sat a table for drinkers. It could hardly be called a banquet table—there was no food. Just a white jade flask and five cups.

And five people sat around it:

Jeong Yeon-shin, Lord of Ipwang Fortress

A sleeveless man, exposing his gaunt arms

A faded Warlord King

The Leader of Murong Sect, Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol

Baek Seo-goon, also known as the Sword Sovereign

They didn’t seem particularly friendly. Nor would they ever be.

Suddenly, the eyes of Hyeok Ryeon Pungwol, Murong’s leader, shot open. He had sensed Wi Yeon’s gaze—his face twisted in alarm. The look of a man seeing something he desperately didn’t want to. It was fitting—he was known in Murim as the most deranged insect-ridden sage.

“You there, Lord!”

He stood up at once, as though preparing to unleash a technique. But Jeong Yeon-shin lifted a hand.

His sleeve—still the same deep violet—brushed against the jade flask. A clear stream poured out, filling the other four cups.

Then, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke:

“I will now transmit the True Gate Incantation. You will bear witness that a clan matriarch of the Myeong race heard it alongside you.”

The faded Warlord King gave a smile—strangely unreadable.

“That’s no difficult thing.”

As if creatures scrambling to survive could dare to comprehend it.

For a moment, Wi Yeon nearly pulled her vision away. By rights, this was a trap. But she remained. Because she was a martial artist.

“I’ve reinterpreted it in my own way, but it does not deviate from martial logic. With your level of understanding, you’ll grasp it soon enough.”

Jeong Yeon-shin gripped his cup and muttered what must have been the opening line of the incantation:

“Even a monkey can do it.”

His voice—youngest among them—unfurled the spring breeze. Four shadows listened in silence.

They say a supreme master is a madman obsessed with martial arts.

The jade flask passed back and forth, now half-empty. The sky began to brighten with dawn, but their eyes only grew dimmer.

The occasional clink of raised cups didn’t break Jeong Yeon-shin’s steady rhythm. Only the wind carried his words across the barren dust.

Until sunlight shimmered on the rims of the cups at dawn—

That’s when Wi Yeon sensed the disturbance from beyond her vision.

The Myeong Clan members had returned from tracking Master Jade Veil of Wudang.

Among them:

Geumbyeokja

Chi-cheon Gungbaek

Even one of the Three-Fanged Great Generals, as if they’d just returned from a stroll.

― No good. We need someone. Preferably that Beggar King type... Wait, what are you looking at?

Geumbyeokja’s hand landed on her shoulder. Their vision synchronized instantly. With a gasp, Geumbyeokja called to the other girls.

― You all know Jeong Yeon-shin, Lord of Ipwang? This old hag’s been watching that handsome devil all to herself!

Just then, two figures emerged from the Gate in the wasteland: Shin Byeok and the violet-robed woman. Their entire bodies were soaked in red and blue blood.

But that wasn’t the end. Others followed. Each face—each presence—surpassed all prior expectations.

Geumbyeokja gripped Wi Yeon’s shoulder tightly.

― Why do they all look so old?

A mistaken question.

Тhe real one should have been:

Why are they walking out?

How are they still alive?

The Elder Council of Ipwang Fortress.

In other words: the Seventeen Former Lords.

― That old man with the black rope coiled around his right arm like a Black Dragon? That’s the Lord of the Heavenly Dragon Corps. He once took a hit from Gun-hye. That tall mixed-blood Myeong? That’s the So-yeon Lord—she’s fierce. Sent a love letter to the Blade Sovereign and got rejected. Oh, and that one with three swords? That’s the Lord of the Laws and Edicts. He hated Hyungmong. Even voted against him during the Divine Sword Corps election—made them enemies forever...

The old men’s beards billowed in the wind. Their accumulated qi overflowed from common sense. A fearsome, unmatched momentum.