Beneath a cloud of dust mixed with the stark white sunlight.
Void Stepping and Sword Flight.
The contrast between the two figures was striking—a rare sight under the heavens.
The silhouette of Murong Zhongrak, the Star-Radiance Grand Sword Lord, treaded upon the air, while Jung Yeonshin, the Lotus Nezha, had risen atop his sword, drawn at some unknown moment.
The drifting dust, rising from shattered stone fragments, flowed like mist. It was a confrontation akin to a painting.
Below them, the murmurs of the awestruck audience spilled forth like sighs. The Radiant Demon Squad's leader heard the voices of his three comrades as well.
"My god… So that was really Sword Flight back then! Now it finally feels real."
"He seemed envious of this young lord's height, yet he takes a truly grand approach…"
"That's really Sword Flight, isn't it?!"
A mix of jest and astonishment. Typical of warriors under the Radiant Demon Squad, even in urgent moments, they found a sense of ease.
Wooong—
Perched upon his white Beiming Sword, he silently fixed his gaze ahead.
Wrapped in a grayish air current like a flowing curtain, the head of the Murong Clan locked eyes with him.
"..."
The eyes of the Greatest in Liaodong flickered with a pale brilliance.
They carried an overwhelming intensity.
His gaze alone was enough—a light compressed like a bundle of sword blades. Even with his form barely visible through the dust, he felt less like a person and more like something else entirely.
Jung Yeonshin pondered. How did he compare to the leader of the Zhuge Clan?
'Power accumulated solely within the body…'
It was different from sorcery-based martial arts. Meaning, it was not characterized by extraordinary force or infinite variations.
He was simply strong.
Even without deploying great formations or divine artifacts, he remained so. His life was likely embodied in a single sword, regardless of how his life had unfolded.
Perhaps due to their vastly different martial lineages, it was impossible to easily determine superiority between the two clan leaders.
But not all of the Eight Great Clan Leaders possessed the same martial prowess. It was said that as one reached greater heights, the world they inhabited grew broader.
Even among the highest-tier masters, martial prowess varied greatly. Then, for those at the pinnacle of great factions, it must differ even more.
'Either way, I need to fight on the ground.'
He could not handle this battle in Sword Flight. A warrior using Void Stepping to freely execute sword techniques had the natural advantage.
After all, his Sword Flight had been activated precisely to draw Murong Zhongrak's attention. The strike of a supreme swordsman could not be allowed to land elsewhere needlessly.
At that moment—
"Discard idle thoughts."
A shadow, standing tall with an imposing presence, spoke.
"You should be honing your sword energy instead."
The absolute ruler of Liaodong had spoken. His tone vaguely resembled advice.
Yet he did not dwell on idle words. Murong Zhongrak, Star-Radiance Grand Sword Lord, no longer looked at the ground below, only at Jung Yeonshin, as he spoke.
Even knowing that his son had been slain by Radiant Demon Squad's subordinates.
Jung Yeonshin did not respond.
There was no need to communicate. It would be foolish to attempt negotiations with a monster wielding a blade.
This man was Heon Wonchang's mortal enemy, and Jung Yeonshin had stood by and watched as his son died.
By the laws of Jianghu, their enmity was irreconcilable. Even if one of them performed the Gold Powder Ritual(Geumbun Sesu), it would not change that.
'Even if I die, so be it. I will fulfill my duty.'
He circulated his Radiant Wheel energy, sending it through the minor meridians in his face. The moment it passed through the Tongziliao Acupoints, blue light flickered in his eyes.
Heaven-Piercing Technique activated.
Radiant Energy surged between his optic nerves and the Baihui Acupoint.
Simultaneously, his vision flashed white.
It was the Meteor Sword technique of the Murong Clan. A sudden strike, charging straight at him.
'Let's go.'
Jung Yeonshin spoke to his Beiming Sword.
The blade instantly resonated with its master's will—something he himself, yet to achieve Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown, could not match.
He soared atop his sword.
Hwaaah!
His perspective shifted.
The moment he felt a pressure bearing down on his crown, his surroundings transformed into streaks of light. Then, in the next instant, the barren peaks of the wasteland unfolded before his eyes.
It was as if he had burst out from deep within a cavern. The air, drawn into his lungs through his internal breathing, felt far crisper now.
Kugugung—
A tremendous roar erupted far below. Jung Yeonshin, standing on his Beiming Sword, felt a fierce gust brush against the tip of his leather shoes.
It was the aftermath of a supreme sword technique.
Even though he had evaded, the force of the sword still rippled through dozens of yards of empty air.
"You…"
A faint hint of surprise lingered in the voice.
Accompanied by intense vibrations, Murong Zhongrak's voice grew clearer.
He ascended, slicing through the air, soaring upwards from beneath the Beiming Sword. The Greatest in Liaodong moved through the sky like a fish swimming through water, his Void Stepping seamless.
It was the confidence of a man who now believed he could strike down the elite assassins of the Slaughter Sect at any moment.
And at the forefront of his priorities, stood Jung Yeonshin, the Lotus Nezha.
"You will leave your head behind here."
His final words settled directly before Jung Yeonshin's face.
At that moment, the current Radiant Demon Squad's leader, almost thanked him out of sheer instinct.
It was a demeanor he had seen many times from enemy warriors. The sheer certainty in a life-or-death struggle made his mind settle.
Bathed in the dazzling sunlight, they faced each other.
The middle-aged man before him had particularly thick eyebrows.
His visage, both steadfast and fierce, was intertwined with a transcendental energy.
Clad in spotless white robes, untouched by dust, he looked like a divine general of the heavens.
In midair Jung Yeonshin silently crossed over a mountain peak.
Behind him, Murong Zhongrak, sword lowered in his grasp, followed like a ghost.
Step.
Radiant Demon Squad's leader landed on the ochre-colored clearing with an air of indifference, as if unaffected. Murong Zhongrak also stepped onto the ground, his posture unwavering.
Both were swordsmen.
For warriors skilled in footwork, the solid ground was far more favorable. After the dull sound of their landing echoed, the silence filling the space between them grew even denser.
A barren, rocky wilderness.
A mere ten paces apart. To supreme masters, that was the same as being within arm's reach.
Jung Yeonshin, locking eyes with Murong Zhongrak, extended his hand to the side.
Tak.
The floating Beiming Sword landed in his grasp. Simultaneously, he transferred the image of a fan made of light from his sword toward the leader of the Murong Clan.
A secret technique. Fan Dragon Lotus Binding Technique.
From within his mind, a dragon suddenly emerged, clutching the white crane-feather fan.
It was just about to soar toward the crown of Murong Zhongrak's head when—
Dududu—
The sound of galloping hooves.
The presence of a tremendous force, an overwhelming tide of men and horses—raced toward them at terrifying speed. Jung Yeonshin, his entire focus pinned on Murong Zhongrak, was a fraction late in recognizing it.
The same seemed true for Murong Zhongrak. His eyes shifted just an instant faster than Jung Yeonshin's.
Dust rose over the ridgeline in a massive cloud, accompanied by the thunderous resonance of over a hundred riders moving as one.
"Profound Martial Alliance."
Murong Zhongrak murmured.
Jung Yeonshin had already anticipated it.
The rumored martial army, unlike the forces led by Gun Yurin. The auras they emitted were all remarkably powerful, a sign that even within the Profound Martial Alliance, these were no ordinary warriors.
At the vanguard, a massive man, clad in a fur robe that draped down to his feet, skimmed the ground as he soared forward.
A colossal figure.
A semi-transparent energy barrier, as imposing as a fortress wall, surrounded him.
His Protective Energy Technique, refined to the level of a wandering celestial, left a deep impression. Yet, despite his serene bearing, his gaze carved a terrifying presence into the air as he approached.
The atmosphere trembled incessantly. The invisible war banners formed of his internal energy seemed to pierce the sky.
Dudududu—!
Even atop their horses, the warriors had already formed a sword formation.
Their collective internal energy, woven together like unseen threads, grew stronger with each passing moment.
Each and every rider, with blades pointed at Jung Yeonshin, charged forward.
These were the elite personally led by the leader of the Profound Martial Alliance.
Even without direct combat, it was clear—their strength was immeasurable.
"Lord Gun Wi. He's made his decision."
A faint smirk tugged at Murong Zhongrak's lips. The composure of an unparalleled master.
Even when facing an equal opponent, he did not lose his unique air of detachment. Likely because he knew he could always retreat if needed.
Slowly, he turned his head toward Jung Yeonshin.
"They say you excel in short decisive battles. I shall behead you before they arrive."
"You seem relaxed."
Jung Yeonshin replied briefly, once more envisioning the fan-wielding dragon.
"The Sword Saint is not here."
Murong Zhongrak continued.
"The corpse of that Namgoong brat will not protect you either."
He spoke of the Murim Alliance affair.
The Greatest in Liaodong remained utterly unshaken by the advancing martial army.
He and the Radiant Demon Squad's leader were old acquaintances. They had crossed paths numerous times during the Murim Alliance Opening Tournament.
At the time, Jung Yeonshin had retrieved Azure Qilin's corpse from the Zhuge Clan, empowering the Murim Alliance's Sword Saint in the process.
It had been a blow to the prestige of the Murong Clan, which had allied with the Zhuge Clan. If they wished to maintain their standing within the Alliance, they had no choice but to sever ties.
Just now, Murong Zhongrak had pointed out Jung Yeonshin's predicament.
In this place, neither backing nor justification would shield him.
He was right.
There was no longer the gaze of the Sword Saint, nor the watchful eyes of the Nine Great Sects.
Not even his former allies—Xiahou Wei Jin, Forest Striding Squad's leader, Desolate Divine Spear Ak Surim, nor any supporters within the white path Murim—could intervene.
Even Azure Qilin's corpse, which had once silenced the entire Murim world, was not here.
The very spirit of the times, where treachery ran rampant in an era of famine, held no sway over a battlefield where the leader of the Murong Clan stood alone.
Neither could he expect the overwhelming force that had annihilated the Hwangbo Clan two years ago.
The forces that had once comprised the Black Three Steel, the Annihilation Squad's leader, Ma Jin with both arms intact, the leader of the Heavenly Squad, and seventy warriors of Desolate Fortress blue division—a nearly invincible force.
That force could no longer be assembled. Each of them was too preoccupied with individual assignments.
The Great Sects, which had honed their martial prowess under the oppressive rule of Desolate Fortress, were now changing with the times.
The Hanzhong Murim Alliance was just the first signal flare. Across the land, warriors were shattering the imperial blade, breaking free from their bindings.
Even Desolate Fortress could no longer fully suppress the emerging coalitions of sects.
The General Affairs Bureau constantly lamented its lack of manpower.
Total isolation.
At this moment, Jung Yeonshin was in the same position as Desolate Fortress itself.
Utterly alone.
Only the Radiant Demon Squad's leader and his three comrades, likely making their way up from below even now, were connected to him.
A martial army of over a hundred, advancing with a perfected sword formation.
Two overwhelming figures, the supreme leaders of great factions.
This was the world Lotus Nezha belonged to.
He had become just as much a center of attention as Desolate Fortress' famed Divine Sword.
[Drop your sword.]
A dry voice, like thunder, struck his ears.
The command came from the vanguard of the mounted warriors ascending the gentle ridge.
With the dignity of a martial king, the leader of the Profound Martial Alliance approached, his words continuing.
[Radiant Demon Squad's leader, Jung Yeonshin. If you do not resist, you will be taken prisoner with due honor. Do not raise your blade, even if Murong Zhongrak stands before you.]
His voice gradually faded. Not because he had lowered it.
But because a formless surge of absolute energy flickered pale within his throat.
A man who had pushed Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown to its very extreme.
A being whose very breath, pulse, and blood flow itself had been forged into martial force.
Perhaps he had even set foot into the realm of Five Energies Returning to Origin.
The fact that his internal energy visibly fluctuated around his throat meant one thing, he was consciously moving the muscles and ligaments within his larynx to amplify his voice with sheer internal power.
[This is…]
The final words of the absolute master suddenly halted, fading like a distant echo.
"Riffraff."
Hwoook—!
The moment the rough voice descended from above, the sunlight unraveled like tangled threads, scattering in every direction.
It was as if the world itself had lost its distinction between day and night.
Countless rays of light illuminating the ridgeline twisted and bent one by one, while beneath them, shadows flickered and vanished in all shapes and forms at an astonishing speed. Fragments of achromatic energy cast fleeting shadows in various places before disappearing.
Saaaa—
The disturbance originated from the distant sky.
A mere black speck at first, but rapidly growing larger.
A tide of formidable energy waves surged forward like an oncoming tsunami.
A man with sharp, striking features. He appeared to be around thirty.
With his arms crossed, he descended, a series of concentric ripples ceaselessly radiating from beneath him.
The air around his body wavered endlessly, turning a deep pink hue before smoothing out again, only to distort once more.
Meanwhile, the hem of his long robe and the purple tassels adorning the hilt of his sword remained completely still, an eerie contrast.
There was no grace, no dignity in his posture.
Yet, to those looking up from the ground, he appeared as a monstrous deity of raw power, tearing through space itself as he descended.
A moment later, the image of the man dramatically flicking his sleeve was imprinted into the void.
A single strike of palm force.
A mysterious azure shockwave crashed down upon the heads of the charging mounted warriors.
A blazing blue circular force stacked upon itself in an instant.
A moment later, a heavy vibration warped the space like an ominous flame.
Unified Blossom Smoke Extinction Art. Sword Sun.
Phu-hwa-hwak—!
A hundred warriors and their mounts were crushed and shattered all at once.
As blood erupted in a sudden explosion, turning into white mist and vanishing, fragments of blue flames scattered like falling petals across the battlefield.