It was an era of chaos.
Accurate information was extremely rare. When a dozen rumors spread about an incident, only two or three of them usually contained the truth.
Take, for example, the contemporary portraits of the Radiant Demon Squad's leader, which were mainly circulated in the central regions of the country.
The depictions of his appearance were, quite literally, all over the place. Even so, the variety was considered relatively modest compared to his reputation.
After all, sharing personal information about high-ranking officials of Desolate Fortress without permission was a surefire way to get in trouble with the authorities.
'This feeling.'
Jung Yeonshin had just seen twelve different facial sketches, each drawn in a different style. He could not afford to take lightly the documents personally handed to him before his departure by Chung Myung, Baek Miryeo, Ak Surim, and the Chief Administrator.
Their intentions had broadened his knowledge. He had learned a fair amount— in great detail—about the person he was facing.
The man's appearance matched several key pieces of information.
"Strange. I heard you were about three years younger than me… but your body is fully grown."
The man, who still held his fishing rod loosely, cast a sidelong glance at Jung Yeonshin as he spoke.
His pronunciation was clear, yet his voice was rough, as if he were scratching his throat with claws instead of producing the bright, resonant tone one would expect.
His appearance was also striking. A presence befitting the legitimate heir of the Ming Cult, an order known for deceiving even the heavens for generations.
Take, for example, the silver mask that covered only his face from the forehead down to the tip of his nose, revealing only a sharp and beautiful lower half.
There were no intricate engravings or patterns on the mask, yet a faint sheen rippled across it like waves. It suited the slightly crooked smirk that seemed habitual.
At the same time, he was wrapped in an extravagantly ornate white pifeng from head to toe. The long black silk threads embroidered along the hem, though decorative, did not come across as excessive.
That was likely because of the overwhelming aura exuding from the deep blue eyes behind the mask. Even the pure white scarf made of beast fur that encircled his neck felt more like the mane of a divine dragon.
"Even insults don't sound like insults."
The peculiar man slowly parted his lips.
Between syllables, when he was not speaking, the uniquely cold silence of a winter stream was all the more pronounced.
Whether he was truly fishing or not was secondary. His sheer presence alone filled the surroundings with an unbearable weight.
"Perhaps it's because of your rare physiognomy, but even the word 'fuck off' sounds amusing. It must be due to your gentle nature."
"...."
Jung Yeonshin remained silent, deep in thought. He needed to be wary of this man's insight.
Invincible Laughing Heaven, Yelu Zhen.
The world's undisputed greatest prodigy.
A man who had intercepted Jung Yeonshin's path with astonishing intelligence.
His clothing concealed the condition of his physique, and his face was half-hidden behind an accessory that was neither a mask nor mere ornamentation. That meant it was difficult to discern anything about his martial arts, apart from large movements and energy fluctuations.
Was he a woman or a man?
To what extent had he honed martial arts beyond sorcery?
None of it was clear.
The pifeng draped over his body seemed close to a sacred artifact, as it fundamentally blocked any detection of his energy.
'I must avoid exchanging too many moves.'
A new sensation crept in, an intuition bordering on insight.
Jung Yeonshin etched the image of a Radiant Dragon biting a folding fan into his mind.
At any moment, he had to be ready to overlay his Intent onto the Meteor Sword at his waist and send forth Arrow-Controlled Sword aimed directly at his opponent's throat. There was no technique among his skills faster in execution than Fan Dragon Lotus Binding Technique.
'But I also have to consider using Ultimate Thunder. If I waste time on sword techniques, I might lose my head in an instant.'
He opened his mouth.
"Yelu Zhen of Ming Cult, have you ever clashed with the warriors of Desolate Fortress?"
No sooner had he spoken in a calm, level tone than energy flared up like wildfire from all directions in the barren forest.
There were at least several dozen individuals.
The snow-laden branches shattered in all directions, turning into a flurry of white fragments. The density of the energy waves was immense, without exception.
Among them, the first to release energy moved at a speed that could only be explained by Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown. This meant that the Young Lord of Ming Cult wielded a sword comparable to those of the highest-tier warriors of Desolate Fortress.
Then—
Hwaak!
The scattered snowflakes, which had been falling lightly, were crushed and blown away by a massive circular shockwave.
The source of the impact was beside Jung Yeonshin.
Standing tall with her back straight, the Seventh Apostle surveyed the surroundings, revealing a single bewitching, ruby-like eye.
A reddish energy flowed from her entire body, seeping into the snow-covered ground like drifting flower petals.
Then, the words that should have come from the subordinates of Invincible Laughing Heaven instead slipped from the Seventh Apostle's lips.
"How insolent."
Hyaa—
The Young Lord of Ming Cult let out a low murmur of admiration.
"Your lady is quite extraordinary. If I command them to attack, the casualties will be severe."
"Answer."
Jung Yeonshin pressed for a response, his expression indifferent.
Beside him, a startled movement came from someone adjusting their sleeves with a gentle touch, but at this moment, finding out the whereabouts of his seniors was his top priority.
"Radiant Demon Squad's leader… Truly, you have spirit. It's no wonder you wear that great 'Desolate' character so boldly in broad daylight. These days, martial artists from Desolate Fortress are widely considered prime targets for robbery among the more formidable warriors of the world. Lately, Sichuan has been especially notorious for that."
The Young Lord of Ming Cult rose from his seat.
Still gripping the bamboo fishing rod, he carelessly tossed it aside, muttering to himself in a dissatisfied tone beneath his mask.
"They say fishing is a way to capture time, yet I haven't caught a single one. How irritating."
"Prime targets for robbery?"
Jung Yeonshin asked. The Young Lord of Ming Cult, who had glanced at him, gave a half-hearted nod.
"Huguang might not know about it yet. Well… that's just how the times are. The martial artists of Desolate Fortress, you see, they have plenty of food and rare martial arts knowledge in their heads, but they pose no lasting threat. And in times like these, you people are the busiest. You have to look after the people, carry out solo missions, so it's common for your sect's martial artists to be left unattended."
The Young Lord of Ming Cult continued.
"To be clear, you're still grim reapers to those third-rate sect nobodies, but those skilled warriors who used to avoid white and blue robes simply because they feared Desolate Fortress' retaliation… well, rather than starve to death while following the law during a famine, wouldn't it be better to just do whatever it takes to survive? Whether it's pillaging civilian homes or killing the Desolate Fortress warriors who came to capture them."
All across the land, Desolate Fortress warriors had lost contact.
It wasn't just Obeying Heaven Squad, Forest Striding Squad, or leader of the Immortal Spirit Wood Squad. This had been happening for a long time, but now it was becoming far too common. Many lower-ranking warriors had vanished without returning.
Jung Yeonshin had heard about such things ever since his initiation.
Even in the City of Master Craftsmen in Sichuan, many senior members of Radiant Demon Squad had been sent away. And even after he became leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, news of Desolate Fortress warriors dying away from home never ceased. It was always with them.
"People are bound to be swept up by the tides of their era. Why would Desolate Fortress be any different?"
The Young Lord of Ming Cult's deep blue eyes gleamed as if peering straight into Jung Yeonshin's thoughts.
"The answer you're looking for… might not be anything special. There are so many supreme martial artists roaming the world that it's impossible to count them all. Your men might have simply run into one and died somewhere."
"You mean, not you?"
"Well… I am one of those supreme martial artists, but… you're not believing any of those rumors Yeoryeong Sect has been spreading, are you?"
Those bastards had mastered the art of driving a wedge between the martial world and Desolate Fortress.
The Young Lord of Ming Cult, clasping his fingers together in a leisurely gesture, glanced at Jung Yeonshin before speaking again.
"You don't seem to believe it much. As expected, martial artists are the type who need to exchange blows to understand each other. But I really hate getting hurt…"
Suddenly, the silence of the snowy plains grew heavy.
Jung Yeonshin felt an intangible pressure pressing down on his shoulders.
None of the Ming Cult warriors who had reacted violently earlier had revealed themselves from their concealment. Even though they were on the verge of clashing.
There was no hidden meaning behind it. It simply meant that they had absolute confidence in the word 'Invincible' attached to their master's title. Just as the high-ranking warriors of Radiant Demon Squad placed their trust in Jung Yeonshin.
"Shall we exchange just a couple of moves? Your energy is rather unsettling, but a true martial artist's intentions are always revealed through their techniques."
Beneath the Young Lord of Ming Cult's mask, pitch-black flames flickered.
There was no sign of martial arts activation, no crackling sound.
The black flames coiling around his thick robe radiated an overwhelming force.
It was a natural course of events. From the start, theirs was a relationship that could never be built on trust.
Jung Yeonshin released the internal energy control method he had inherited from the leader of the Blood Preservation Squad.
At the same time, a lotus flower of pure white bloomed beneath his feet.
Transcending Law Radiant Wheel, Radiant River—Ultimate Thunder.
From the very first move, he was going all out.
For the first time since his rebirth of bones and flesh, this was a battle where he had no choice but to do so.
* * *
Everywhere was in ruins. Amid the raging smoke that swirled like a typhoon, corpses lay scattered.
This was a battlefield where the fate of the martial world would be decided.
It was a place where only the highest echelon of Murim stood.
"Desolate Fortress will be annihilated."
A soft, measured voice.
A man wrapped entirely in black robes stood there. Beneath his sedge hat, a slow-moving lower jaw revealed a thick black beard.
"The Heaven-Spanning Net, composed of every great faction in the world, will make sure of that. Perhaps the Nine Great Sects will be the only ones to sit this out."
"Speak sense."
Ten paces ahead.
A man with the refined demeanor of a scholar responded.
He was dressed in a purplish yusam robe, close in style to a Confucian scholar's attire.
Despite being surrounded by enemies who glared at him murderously, none dared to make a reckless move against this unarmed man.
Even though the only ally at his side was a young warrior in blue martial robes, frowning in concern.
The black-robed figure in the sedge hat, leader of Yeoryeong Sect, faced them at the forefront. His demeanor was exceedingly relaxed.
"You shouldn't have trusted the Eight Clans. After all that happened… Knowing your chivalrous heart only makes it all the more regrettable, Yong Ga. The Divine Sword Order members returning as corpses from Anpyung Mountain will die with their eyes open in resentment."
Behind the leader of the Divine Sword Order, a middle-aged swordsman in flowing blue sleeves blocked their retreat.
His snow-white sword emanated an overwhelming force, like a translucent Taishan pressing down on the world, allowing no movement.
It was King-Style Sword Arts.
"Leader, it's time to let go of Murim."
Namgoong First Sword of the Martial Dragon Association spoke.
And they weren't the only ones.
The leader of Divine Sword Order and his warriors knew that twenty li away, the overwhelming arrows of the Dark Night War commander were already aimed at them.
The leader of Yeoryeong Sect spoke.
"The Heaven-Spanning Net will be complete soon, systematically destroying all Divine Sword Order's seventeen battalions. And among them, your complete annihilation will mark the beginning of the grand plan. The leaders dispatched west of Desolate Fortress will meet the same fate. Xinjiang, Qinghai, Sichuan. There are more than five of them, aren't there?"
It was as if he was already speaking of the dead.
The leader of Yeoryeong Sect.
If one were to name the grim reaper of the martial world, he would undoubtedly be the first to come to mind—a true mastermind.
The leader of the Divine Sword Order smirked.
He had experienced such situations countless times.
For a long time, he had endured the sight of so-called free warriors running wild, acting as if they had been granted divine authority.
Ever since he inherited the supreme position from Ma Yeonjeok, he had lived like a fortress, silently standing against the storm.
"These bastards are really pushing their luck."
He muttered.
Swoosh.
Suddenly, from the luggage bag lying at his feet, writing tools floated into the air.
The principle of Void Grasp.
A brush, inkstone, and seventeen sheets of paper began to dance in the air on their own.
"What kind of trickery is this?"
The enemies hesitated to act.
The leader of the Divine Sword Order had not yet drawn his signature sword, Dragon Ring Sword.
Despite being poisoned with Celestial Luck, it did not mean his full power had been diminished.
He needed to buy time.
"Leader?"
The blue-robed warrior, Yun Soha, looked up at his superior.
The leader of the Divine Sword Order let out a carefree laugh.
"I suppose I can't remain a chivalrous warrior any longer. Just check the contents for me. My senses are a little dull right now. If the last page isn't finished, copy it exactly as it is."
Yun Soha obediently followed the command.
The young warrior turned his back on the enemies and read the contents of the letter.
Then, his shoulders gave a noticeable twitch.
"Seriously?"
He asked.
"You really want me to write all seventeen pages? Did the leaders gather like swallows just to pull this off…?"
"You're indirectly asking if I've lost my mind."
"No, I mean it, seriously?"
Despite his doubts, Yun Soha was a loyal subordinate.
He took a brush from Void Grasp, started copying the text, and asked again.
The leader of the Divine Sword Order smirked.
"The stubborn old geezers in the Elder Council will finally have a reason to unanimously strip me of this robe. But what can I do, now that I've heard their plans?"
"If that were the end of it, it'd be a relief. But what about the common people?"
"…That is the sin I must bear. In my judgment as the leader of the Divine Sword Order, rather than all of us being ruined and wiped out, this is the better option."
His voice was unbearably heavy.
But that was all.
The leader of the Divine Sword Order did not retract his command.
Pararararak—!
He spread his hand wide, folding the letters suspended by Void Grasp into long strips and sending them soaring into the air.
The documents were fastened to the legs of a hawk and more than a dozen swallows that had been circling overhead.
It was an internal energy technique that had reached the level of divine mastery. The sword winds and hidden weapons unleashed by the surrounding enemies could not even touch them and were torn apart mid-air.
By then, the leader of the Divine Sword Order had already unsheathed his sword, scattering iridescent light and unleashing a terrifying surge of sword energy.
"Go."
Until all seventeen of Desolate Fortress' sacred beasts had flapped their wings and dispersed in every direction—
Neither the leader of Yeoryeong Sect nor the Namgoong First Sword moved to stop them.
They had surmised that the leader of the Divine Sword Order possessed an extraordinarily developed upper dantian.
If they made any attempt to intercept those letters, he would risk his own life to see it through to the end.
"Curious about what I wrote?"
The leader of the Divine Sword Order asked. The leader of Yeoryeong Sect slowly nodded.
"I can already guess. But can you handle the consequences? The imperial family will not stand idly by."
"Feeling a chill down your spine? You martial world bastards must have thought our fortress would simply lie down and take it."
No answer came.
The leader of the Divine Sword Order plucked a single remaining letter from the air with his fingertips.
At the same time, smoke from Three Samadhi True Fire curled up from his fingers.
The parchment burned away. The words that would shake the entire world had been scribbled in a hurried hand, and now the edges blackened as the flames consumed them.
[Personal Dispatch to the squad leaders.
I deeply apologize for troubling you at such a busy time. I am aware that none of you have the leisure for this. I do not know how many will read this letter, but I pray to the heavens and will get straight to the point.
The leader of Divine Sword Order commands:
For now, turn a blind eye to whatever damage is inflicted by the martial world's rogue elements. The Divine Sword Order of Desolate Fortress will henceforth prioritize its own survival over all of Murim.
Let us show those bastards what happens when our fortress unites the way they do.
All black-clad warriors under my command, upon reading these words, are to cease all missions immediately and regroup at Ten Perfection Sect in Sichuan.
Seventeen.
Every single one.]