It was a wave formation shaped like flower petals.
Half-transparent and blazing, it brushed past the face of the Zhuge Clan's leader before falling away.
Saaaa—
Jung Yeonshin felt the divine power surging within him like waves, shattering all ten strands of Zhuge Clan's leader's Divine Male and Female Whips in an instant.
With the profound ability of his upper dantian enveloping his entire body, his internal energy followed the speed of his thoughts perfectly. It was as if he had finally donned clothes that truly fit him.
He had entered an entirely different world.
[Dark Qilin's Commandment…!]
There was a hint of astonishment in the incantation of the Zhuge Clan's leader, his feet wrapped in black mist. It was immediately after he had made a great leap backward upon witnessing Jung Yeonshin's earth-shattering strike.
As a sorcerer, he was adept at widening distances. His pristine white robe fluttered violently as if a storm had settled within its folds.
The figure that had been flaunting close-combat martial arts had vanished.
That alone left the surrounding crowd in shock. Even the expressions of the masters whose eyes gleamed with sight arts changed drastically.
However, the advantage gained by sacrificing the dignity of an absolute master was significant.
Fwoosh!
His evasive footwork was unbelievably fast. Before one could even blink, the Zhuge Clan's leader had retreated nearly three zhang.
His lips moved to form the character 'Vast'. An absolute master of sorcery and martial arts used even the briefest of moments to prepare for an attack.
For him, that attack was important, the technique that had incapacitated the Blood Preservation Squad's leader.
Thud.
Landing amidst the shattered remains of the White Crane Fan, Jung Yeonshin slightly bent his knees.
No one saw him straighten. The moment his figure disappeared from that spot, a deafening roar swept through the battlefield.
Zzeooooong—!
The ground flipped over, revealing its deep ochre flesh. It was as if the body of a dragon had torn through the land.
The extreme friction sent steam spiraling skyward, dimming the sun.
Just after Beiming struck Zhuge Clan's leader's abdominal protective force, Jung Yeonshin, now within arm's reach, swung his left hand upward for a second strike.
It was aimed at the enemy's chest. As his wounded shoulder stretched forward, the space around his hand twisted and bent.
The spiraling force of the Radiant River surged into Zhuge Clan's leader's collar.
Boom—!
Flesh and blood burst out like a violent retch.
The shattered fragments of his colorless Protective Force were belatedly caught within the explosion.
Puhwak!
Only after the attack fully landed did sound follow. The entire battle had shifted.
Zhuge Clan's leader's eyes widened in shock as he was flung into the air.
'He… he read the structure of my Protective Force…!'
It hadn't been a reckless attack.
The spiraling waves of the Radiant River filled the minuscule gaps within the Protective Force, detonating from within. It was a technique that completely dismantled an internal energy barrier.
This was a stark contrast to the earlier phase of the battle, where speed had been his greatest challenge. Now, the full prowess of Radiant Demon Squad's Lightning Genius was unfolding.
Distance could not be given.
Just as there were countless martial lineages, there were just as many battle strategies to match.
To sever the throat of the Desolate Divine Spear, Radiant Demon Squad's leader had stepped into his range, an opponent who wielded both sorcery and martial arts.
A fatal mistake. In a fight where a single strike could mean death, such a blunder was unforgivable.
Had he continued to widen the gap, the battle wouldn't have taken this turn.
Whoooosh!
The two figures rose nearly three zhang into the air, suspended in midair.
The blunt force of the surrounding winds felt like an entirely different realm. To both of them.
Below them, a dim white light distorted beneath Jung Yeonshin's feet.
The Ten Li Radiance Step never allowed an opponent to gain distance. Jung Yeonshin's innate battle instincts were the same.
[Nine Clouds Blazing Flame Crown…!]
"You're too late."
Beiming swung upward, its blade soaked in the blood of its battered master.
The sword, enveloped in the fleeting afterimage of Judgment Qilin's swift sword, glowed with an indistinct colorless energy.
From his arm, the energy of the Radiant River burst forth as propulsion.
His sword's trajectory abruptly disappeared, only to reappear at Zhuge Clan's leader's abdomen, just as his Protective Force was beginning to reconstruct.
The moment it struck, an explosive shockwave, like blooming flames, erupted along Jung Yeonshin's arm.
Zzeong! Kwa kwa kwa kwaang—!
A colorless current scattered from Zhuge Clan's leader's body. In one strike, his entire Protective Force was obliterated.
The sword energy had cut deep into his internal organs, even splitting his dantian. It was a masterstroke of a decisive battle technique.
The two figures slowly descended.
Jung Yeonshin, gripping his sword downward, his tattered black robe billowing.
Zhuge Clan's leader, unable to maintain his balance, plummeting straight down.
Thud.
A dull impact resounded. The absolute beauty of a master lay sprawled, groaning.
Jung Yeonshin stepped beside him and flicked Beiming clean, scattering droplets of blood into the silence.
"..."
A chilling stillness spread through the crowd. A silence utterly different from before, as if everything had frozen.
Not a single expert witnessing the life-and-death duel uttered a word.
The undisputed ruler of Shaanxi lay at the feet of Radiant Demon Squad's Lightning Genius.
"Huff, huff…!"
The Six Harmonies Voice Transmission, which once feigned divine majesty, collapsed.
What spilled from the absolute master's lips was no words—only sharp, ragged breaths.
There were countless titles associated with him.
The Reincarnated Dragon, the Cold-Blooded Absolute Master, the Founder of the Murim Alliance, the Embodiment of Sorcery, who carried the entire Zhuge Clan's techniques within his body.
That was why this sight could not be processed as reality.
It took multiple breaths' worth of time. Even seeing it with their own eyes, they couldn't believe it.
And then, the enormous weight of the event rippled through the crowd.
"The Reincarnated Dragon, Zhuge Clan's leader?"
"How… how is this possible? At that age…."
"Perhaps we are witnessing the next Divine Sword Order's leader. No, no matter how many years pass, it is already certain. More than that… messengers! Carrier hawks! Rewrite everything! The clans must not act rashly!"
Noblemen in pristine silk robes erupted into chaos.
They called for messengers, summoned their horses, and even carefully unwrapped intelligent spirit beasts from their robes.
These were the opportunists who survived in a world dominated by unparalleled martial masters.
The dignified aura they maintained in civil society vanished entirely. This was the ecology of Murim, ruled by the law of the strong.
Even the noble clans of Shaanxi, known for their aristocratic dignity, failed to suppress their emotions at this moment.
Their eyes, flitting between the fallen Zhuge Clan's leader and the silent Jung Yeonshin, were filled with shock.
Hoo—
Meanwhile, Jung Yeonshin examined his internal state in deep contemplation. He had to fully assimilate the newfound upper dantian coordination technique.
'It can't just be a one-time miracle. It must be something I can unleash whenever I face absolute masters.'
And it would be.
The supreme harmony of the upper dantian was said to be no different from sorcery.
Fan Dragon Lotus Binding Technique.
It had clearly surpassed the realm of mere techniques. Even he, its creator, struggled to comprehend its full essence.
It was an art honed by the utmost sensitivity to energy, body, and control.
Just like the Divine Male and Female Whips wielded by the Zhuge Clan's leader—something unreal, something sacred.
Even his body had adapted strangely to it. Like a small pebble vibrating softly within his robe, reminiscent of the Jung Clan Movement Arts he had once scrawled as a child.
'Sensing the Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown isn't difficult.'
His upper dantian, body, and senses had formed a perfect trinity.
Jung Yeonshin had sharpened his natural talents to their utmost. He had now reached the level where the line between sorcery and martial arts blurred.
It felt closer to the Azure Flame once displayed by his grandfather, Ma Yeonjeok.
Now, he no longer needed to flee from absolute masters. He understood it clearly. He could unleash Fan Dragon Lotus Binding Technique at will.
And in this moment, the divine spirit within Zhuge Clan's leader's upper dantian flickered like a dying candle.
The once-mighty master lay at Jung Yeonshin's feet, staring blankly, utterly drained of strength.
'The side effects are a problem.'
Unlike when he had used the Azure Flame First Form of Sword Thunder Flash Art, the strain wasn't on his body, but his mind.
For a technique bordering on defiance of heaven, the recoil was mild, but it was not something that could be used consecutively.
It was then—
"This… this is the realm of absolutes."
A whisper tickled the nape of his neck.
It was Ak Surim. As Jung Yeonshin flinched back two steps, he smiled faintly.
"The Dragon Ring Sword of the Order's leader, Divine Male and Female Whips of Zhuge Bastard, it all seems beyond the workings of this world. These are techniques beyond human comprehension… and now, so is your martial art."
She seemed to have sensed Jung Yeonshin's energy. As the vitality of the Zhuge Clan's leader waned, his presence dimmed as well.
It was a martial art forged for battles against absolute masters. A technique that allowed one to step onto the same lotus as them and fight at an equal height.
Though the mnemonic verse wove together various meanings, its purpose was singular.
"Well done. Finish it."
A chilling voice rang out nearby. A faint wave of energy scattered from Jung Yeonshin's collar.
It was Jin Myungjo, standing far away, speaking through the mystery of Sound Transmission.
Perhaps he wished to fully yield the credit to his junior. Wrapped in a black robe, he now stood apart from the battlefield, bathed in the fractured moonlight. His form was strikingly dignified.
Jung Yeonshin gave a brief nod of respect before lowering his gaze.
The defeated Zhuge Clan's leader lay trembling, his lips quivering.
He kept flinching, trying to lift himself, yet he could not rise. Blood was beginning to pool at his throat, and his voice came out in broken gasps.
"You… you bastard…!"
"I have something to ask."
"I was… not wrong. A mere mind like yours… could never comprehend it. But… for the sake of the world, the Desolate Fortress' Lord must die. My entire life was devoted to that."
"Why did you kill Fan Dragon? He was your son, wasn't he?"
Suddenly, Zhuge Clan's leader's rambling ceased.
His unfocused eyes stared blankly at Jung Yeonshin before his trembling lips struggled to part.
"You… are speaking of me and the world in the same breath. A son? Ridiculous… nonsense."
Jung Yeonshin remained silent.
A sudden breeze swept past, scattering his dry strands of hair.
He did not bother brushing aside the black locks veiling his eyes. He merely pondered. What did a child mean to a father?
Then—
The emotion in the Radiant Demon Squad's leader's eyes faded. His gaze, which had been fixed upon his formidable foe, lost all sentiment.
It was the same expression one would wear when looking at a pebble on the roadside.
It was a defense mechanism of Jung Yeonshin, who had never received a father's affection.
But Zhuge Clan's leader, as if struck by a colossal impact, widened his eyes in horror.
His ever-calm eyelids, usually serene and noble, twitched violently, as if they would tear apart.
"You…!"
It was a face that his final adversary should never have worn.
At this moment, the Radiant Demon Squad's leader held the greatest significance in Zhuge Clan's leader's world.
It was often said that absolute masters of the martial world were those obsessed with martial arts. Clan leaders were no different. Their lives were bound to the way of the blade.
Every moment of their existence was spent competing against other noble families and martial sects.
Someone capable of such atrocities could not have an ordinary nature.
He was not one to feel pain over minor matters, nor even over the death of his own child, if it was justified by his own principles.
Reincarnated Dragon, Zhuge Cheonsang.
His elegant face twisted into pure agony.
Had he been tortured or interrogated over his crimes, he would have scoffed and closed his eyes with a smirk. But the expressionless face of his adversary had inflicted upon him an eternity of disgrace and suffering.
"No… this cannot be."
The martial master, Zhuge Cheonsang, stammered.
"You… you cannot… see me like that…!"
To have the face of his final opponent be one of absolute indifference.
The pale moonlight cast an eerie glow on Jung Yeonshin's face, making it appear both dreamlike and detached.
The sinews and muscles peeking through the tattered sleeves of his robe bore the same presence. As if his very being was forged into a sword.
"Huff—! Huff—!"
Zhuge Cheonsang's breath became ragged and erratic. Could there be a more miserable end for one who had once stood at the pinnacle of grace?
"Now go."
The bloodstained blade of Beiming touched Zhuge Cheonsang's throat.
The crowd held its breath. The moment was upon them, the death that would shake the entire martial world.
And then—
—Five Armies General Command! The Assistant Governor-General arrives!
A resounding voice erupted as if it had been long anticipated. A name that none in the world could dare impersonate.
It came from the direction of the manor's grand gates.
The voice carried immense internal energy, but far more devastating than its power was the weight of its announcement.
An official of the highest First Rank, overseeing all military affairs under the heavens, had arrived unannounced. As if to prevent the Zhuge Clan's leader's death.
"Assistant Governor-General?!"
"What is happening…?"
"Silence! Bow down!"
The crowd erupted into murmurs.
The nobility and officials were deeply intertwined with the ownership of farmlands. Was it not for this reason that the martial sects, who killed as naturally as they breathed, could brazenly establish themselves within the realm of the imperial family?
The so-called Non-Aggression Pact between Officials and Martial Artists was a rule that only applied to wandering vagabonds. The martial clans and high-ranking officials were inseparable.
That was why so many now dropped to their knees.
Swish.
The sound of silk robes brushing against the ground resounded throughout the hall. A being who held the lifelines of noble clans in their grasp had arrived.
Amidst it all, the Desolate Fortress' black ranks did not kneel.
Ak Surim and Jin Myungjo looked toward their youngest, while Jung Yeonshin stared at the Zhuge Clan's leader.
The martial master, Zhuge Cheonsang, glared up at Jung Yeonshin with eyes marred by disgrace and suffering.
The blade at his throat remained unmoved.
"You… you wouldn't hesitate, would you…?"
Jung Yeonshin did not answer.
Wuuung.
From his right hand, a brilliant white sword aura unfurled.
Immediately, the Beiming sank into Zhuge Cheonsang's throat.
For an instant, his neck resisted, but in the next moment, the trajectory of the blade lifted, sending a long arc of crimson mist into the air.
The sensation that traveled through the hilt was dense.
His head was completely severed.
Thud.
The rolling head came to a stop against a small pebble.
His furrowed brow and tightly clenched jaw gave his face an expression of unbearable torment.
As if his very soul had been plunged into hell, carrying only hatred for Jung Yeonshin.
"You knew."
He muttered impassively at the corpse.
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