* * *
"...."
A heavy silence fell.
The spectators of the martial world surrounding the Golden Wings Sect's manor, as well as the elite experts of both the demonic sects, stood awkwardly over the scattered remnants of the spell formation, silent.
It was right after an event that was extraordinary by anyone's standards.
The ethereal young man, who had exuded an almost dreamlike atmosphere simply by standing there, had vanished without a trace.
Along with dozens of martial artists who had been captured as sacrificial offerings, and half the combined forces of the Ten Perfection Sect and the Golden Wings Sect.
Originally, everyone should have been removed from the scene. That was how the grand ritual had been designed. Not by just anyone, but by none other than the Golden Wings Sect's leader.
Rustle.
Her sleeve draped downward.
Her slightly parted lips uttered no words, and her pupils sank into an expression of extreme dryness.
That alone froze the surroundings. Like the invisible hand of a giant pressing down upon the manor, permitting no movement from anyone. It was a presence beyond mere internal energy.
Only those who had ascended to the peak of martial mastery could break the silence.
"You there."
The one who had been standing guard beside her, the Ten Perfection Sect's leader, who had momentarily hesitated after calling out to the Golden Wings Sect's leader, slowly spoke once more.
"What happened? I distinctly felt something like a web of energy seeping out of that brat, Tang Manyun's, body. Right at the climax of the grand ritual."
"…It was taken."
"That bastard seized control of the function of the ritual?"
"Yes."
"How could that be? No—how could you have let that be taken? Even if that brat possessed some kind of bewitching demonic power, how could you have lost to such a mere child…?"
"He's powerful. I have no idea who he is."
The Golden Wings Sect's leader muttered quietly.
The eyes of the martial artists gathered in the open space, including the Ten Perfection Sect's leader, widened.
The elite experts of the demonic sects in Sichuan knew the Golden Wings Sect's leader's temperament and speech patterns all too well. She was not one to praise even her closest guardians for their martial prowess.
"Did the two sect leaders fail to properly sense his energy...? Just how refined must his method of concealing it be?"
"He has reached the realm of Perfect Deception. We were completely fooled."
"Could the Desolate Fortress have sent an unparalleled master as a spy?"
"That's absurd. Where would the imperial watchdogs even find such capability? Even if we were to raze their Sichuan branch to the ground right this moment, they wouldn't be able to say a word against it."
"Could he be the Young Lord of the Ming Cult? The Invincible Laughing Heaven, Yelu Zhen. Not even unparalleled masters would dare interfere recklessly with a spell formation."
"Would that arrogant man lower himself to disguise his identity and pose as a mere attendant? That theory makes just as little sense."
"Silence."
Suddenly, the quarrel among the demonic sects' elite warriors ceased.
The Golden Wings Sect's leader had turned on her heel.
Step.
"We'll simply conduct it again."
She declared.
No one showed any sign of disagreement. After all, it was the Grand Ritual.
The Golden Wings Sect had already accounted for one or two failures. This meant they had prepared additional ritual tools to reconstruct the formation.
* * *
The present-day leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, who was bound by duty to complete his mission, the unfortunate Tang Clan siblings who were caught in the mess, and the Golden Wings Sect's Guardians, who had no idea they were merely being used as a guide.
Jung Yeonshin felt no particular sense of triumph at having successfully manipulated the spell formation.
The strange sensation from the halo within his heart held his attention only for a moment.
A complete Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown, indestructible body reinforcement, Surpassing Limits Martial Arts, the second halo.
At the very least, he would soon attain two of these. He had to focus. A critical matter was at hand.
The formation.
A mystical technique no less enigmatic than martial arts. Rather than altering the body's internal flow, it twisted the very principles of nature.
It was known to be an incredibly intricate and complex study.
When refined properly, inducing hallucinations in others was a mere child's play. At its peak, someone like the Zhuge Clan's leader could summon howling winds and torrential rain at will.
And beyond that, the supreme formations, those that had reached the heavens, were said to create mysterious, hidden places between spaces.
Places almost imperceptible from the outside—alternate realms. Like the graves of ancient martial legends, where a single map could plunge the world into a bloodbath.
Such places were often spoken of with endless wonder.
The Flood Dragon was said to naturally manifest formations of the same kind.
A grassland completely isolated from the outside world, forming a paradise of its own. The only difference was that its scale far exceeded anything humans could conjure through mere spellcraft.
'The natural energy is thick. Incomparable to normal.'
If the immortal realm truly existed, would it be like this? The way the mist-like energy clung so densely to his skin, it felt nearly seventy percent thicker than it had been outside the formation.
Jung Yeonshin looked around.
He hadn't expected the formation's interior space to be this vast. Nor had he imagined that people actually lived within it.
"Shouldn't we inform the village chief?"
"No, look at the marketplace. Fist Demon Ghost! One of the Dragon Slayer Alliance's…!"
"They've come all the way here…."
"Don't move carelessly. You'll be trampled."
"Aren't those children from the Sichuan Tang Clan? Their hands reek of oil, their uniforms are similar…."
"Oh…!"
A group of a dozen or so short-statured individuals, dressed in ragged clothing, whispered among themselves as they glanced at the party.
Their intonations and speech patterns were unfamiliar, neither resembling contemporary dialects nor common regional accents.
The pitch of their voices, the way their words rose and fell, it all felt strangely foreign, as if they were people from an ancient city, long isolated and bound by their own order.
Beyond them, an endless forest stretched, lush and verdant.
The Iron Tribe.
Their internal energy was weak. They seemed like mere commoners.
"I…"
Jung Yeonshin had barely begun to speak to them, placing his hands on his knees in a slight bow, when—
"The sect leader's mastery is truly profound."
A deep inhale and exhale.
Wanyang, immersed in his deep internal breathing, suddenly opened his eyes, cutting him off.
"The Mystic Maiden of the Nine Heavens has descended upon this world. What other being could possibly navigate the Flood Dragon's formation from its very core?"
"…Indeed, impressive."
"She has reached the heights of the heavens. You should consider this a blessing spanning three lifetimes."
Wanyang's voice was low. By now, the energy enveloping his body had become smooth and translucent, like finely woven silk.
A truly mystical sight. He had reached a level where he could maintain an invincible protective aura at all times.
Jung Yeonshin merely stared at him without refuting. He had no words, he was immersed in an experience unlike anything he had encountered before.
'Golden Wings Sect's leader.'
The absolute sovereign of spellcraft and martial arts.
Since the founding of the Ming dynasty, she had devoted countless years to accumulating ritual artifacts, elixirs, and spell mastery to achieve miracles.
And now, she had finally unlocked the formation coiled with the ancient spirit of eons. A feat unprecedented in history.
She had granted Jung Yeonshin entry into the purple-hued martial world.
It was something to be grateful for.
At that moment—
Had their conversation eased the tense atmosphere?
"The Flood Dragon's formation? Seriously?"
"I thought we were doomed for sure…!"
Venomous Phoenix and Venomous Dragon, who had been frozen stiff in their green martial robes, turned their heads back and forth.
The esteemed daughter and son of Sichuan's most prestigious noble clan. Their mannerisms were as similar as their strikingly identical appearances, making them look somewhat comical.
"If we train here, our stored energy will be immense, won't it?"
"Look at that flower over there. What is it? I've never seen that species before. Could it be poisonous?"
Even with two overwhelmingly powerful figures beside them, they were still making a fuss. Their large eyes grew even wider, and soon, they turned in unison, stealthily approaching Jung Yeonshin.
Step.
"Are you really an offshoot elder? Which branch are you from? I've never heard of the 'Man' or 'Yun' naming convention in our lineage. Did the clan's leader secretly teach you?"
"I've been dying to talk! If those damn worm catchers hadn't kept watching us…."
Just as the small boy and girl were chattering away—
"Shut your mouths."
Wanyang coldly commanded.
Saaah—
The energy overflowing from his voice swept through the surrounding foliage, pressing down some leaves with crushing force.
"…!"
The Tang Clan twins flinched and halted.
No matter how talented they were, renowned as the greatest prodigies of the younger generation in Sichuan, they could not compare to a seasoned grandmaster who had long made his name as one of the Twin Guardians of the Golden Wings Sect.
Even with all their youthful blood and pride, they had not yet reached the ranks of the Five Supreme Peaks. They could not even dream of standing at the heels of Lightning Genius of the Desolate Fortress, whom they idolized.
"Did I permit anyone to speak?"
Wanyang reprimanded them in a stern tone.
"Discipline is not only important in hunting spirit beasts. When in unfamiliar and perilous territory, one must refine their breathing and hone their skills. Only then can they at least serve as bait."
He clicked his tongue.
His demeanor was so lofty and imposing that he could have passed for an elder of the Tang Clan. Yet, his next words, spoken as he walked toward the Iron Tribe, were not.
Step.
"Now I understand why the Tang Clan fell. It was truly a sight to behold. The so-called clan leader being utterly disarmed of his Flying Daggers… Even if his opponent was our sect leader."
"What did you say?"
"You! How dare you…!"
The twins' eyes sharpened, their expressions twisting in anger. It was only natural.
Fwoosh—!
Jung Yeonshin considered how he might have reacted had it been a martial artist of the Radiant Demon Squad, rather than his father, Jung Ban-ak, who had been insulted.
He watched the thin whirlwinds rise at the feet of the enraged Tang Clan siblings, scattering leaves in disarray.
'These are chaotic times… They say the conflict between the martial world and the Murim is deepening. It will erupt sooner or later.'
Silently, he extended a hand, positioning it diagonally to block the twins.
The Flood Dragon's formation was an unfamiliar place. Only those who had set foot here before should lead the way.
Especially considering the unforeseen circumstances that had prevented the Seventh Apostle and the Young Lord of the Ming Cult from joining them.
Torture techniques like Muscle-Tearing and Bone-Dislocation would not work on a supreme grandmaster who had achieved the unification of essence, energy, and spirit.
'In any case, he really came?'
The image of the Seventh Apostle, her face adorned with a smooth, unsettling smile beneath her eyepatch, flickered through his mind.
"No! This cannot be allowed! You want to open the village's formation?!"
"So much time has passed… The lowly wretches who once offered up trinkets to amuse the Flood Dragon now dare to talk back."
"Even if the Spirit-Melting Divine Fist commands it…."
The Iron Tribe warrior's words were cut short. With a dull thud, a brief, strangled cry rang out.
Wanyang had kicked someone.
"I know that the greedy Flood Dragon has planted a World Tree sapling here."
The Golden Wings Sect's leader's right hand scoffed, lifting the corner of his mouth irritably. At the low chuckle in his voice, the air around them shimmered faintly.
His internal energy was so intense that it had begun to distort the atmosphere itself. The Iron Tribe warriors, huddled around their fallen comrade, trembled.
"If your village chief truly understands the veins of this land, he should be able to locate our scattered members."
No answer came. Only faint groans in response.
But Wanyang did not press for a reply. He had already seen the look of submissive fear in the eyes of these lowly creatures.
"Slaves in all but name. You only understand after being made an example of."
Like the Sichuan Tang Clan—
Muttering under his breath, he smirked and glanced at Jung Yeonshin. It was a signal for him to follow, along with the Tang Clan twins.
"…Let's go."
Jung Yeonshin, who had been circulating his halo in preparation to stop Wanyang from striking again, placed a reassuring hand on each of the Twin Venoms of Dragon and Phoenix before slowly stepping forward.
Not yet.
Not yet was the time to act.
'First, I need to ensure my seniors' safety.'
He was no longer a boy who could not distinguish heaven from earth.
Step.
The slightly damp soil. The weight of contemplating justice left traces in his footsteps.
* * *
A village surrounded by towering stone walls.
No, it was more like a fortress-encased city. It was too massive to simply be called a village.
The ceaseless clanging of metal, the hoarse voices shouting commands, and the smoke rising from various spots, the place was brimming with vitality.
The group, following the exact footsteps of their Iron Tribe guides, fell silent. They were awed by the sheer scale of the mystical land where the Flood Dragon had coiled itself.
—Halt!
A voice infused with overwhelming internal energy.
A dozen armed warriors of the Iron Tribe, who had been standing guard, gazed down at them with solemn eyes.
Unlike their escorts, these men had clearly mastered an internal energy cultivation method.
They looked perfectly alive and well. They did not resemble lost souls, swept away by the Flood Dragon's ascension, as in the ancient legends.
Jung Yeonshin observed them curiously when—
"Wait…?"
A commotion erupted atop the stone wall.
The moment the Iron Tribe elders, stroking their long beards, laid eyes on Wanyang,
"You there, Zhang San! Who is it you have brought?!"
A warrior, who appeared to be the leader of the gatekeepers, shouted.
He wielded a white spear, his muscular arms exposed beneath his sleeveless robes. Even with his immense energy presence, he could not hide his agitation.
"My apologies, Elder. I had no choice…."
The young man from the village, who had been leading Jung Yeonshin's group, spoke. For a brief moment, his gaze swept past the belly of the Iron Tribe woman standing beside him.
A round, protruding shape.
She was in the final stages of pregnancy.
"You fool…"
With the sigh of an Iron Tribe spearman, the gate guards stationed around him clenched their teeth and sounded the alarm.
Taaang— Taaang—
A deafening metallic clang reverberated in all directions, imbued with martial energy.
It was the same response as a military garrison facing an invasion. The reaction stirred by a single Guardian of the Golden Wings Sect was that severe.
Wanyang let out a small chuckle, standing perfectly upright as he spoke.
[Summon the village chief!]
Like the roar of a lion, his voice exploded outward, sending a massive cloud of dust surging along the stone wall that blocked their path.
The sheer amount of accumulated energy characteristic of a supreme master had turned his voice alone into a forceful gale. The gate guards, who had been standing at attention with grim expressions, wavered on the spot.
"That accursed wretch dares…!"
The head gatekeeper was the first to regain his balance, biting his lip in frustration.
The memory of when the Dragon Slayer Alliance first breached the formation and entered this place flashed through his mind. Back then, those savages had demanded submission, offering to slay the Flood Dragon in exchange for servitude.
Madmen who had even devised the bizarre martial art Dragon-Slaying Art.
Resistance had been impossible. They were simply too powerful.
Weapons had to be crafted for them regularly, yet the compensation that should have been paid never came.
Whenever the Flood Dragon let out a deafening roar, as if the heavens and earth were splitting apart, those bastards would hide among the commoners, waiting until not a single glimpse of the dragon's scales remained visible.
Then, they would demand elaborate tributes be placed upon the altar to appease the Flood Dragon, using the excuse that the preparations were not yet complete.
It was a double-layered plundering.
The clan trapped within the Flood Dragon's formation had nowhere to escape, forced to serve as slaves.
Until, at last, the Dragon Slayer Alliance abandoned their goal and departed this mystical and unstable realm.
Throughout all of it, the one who had ruled over the villagers like a tyrant king had been Spirit-Melting Divine Fist. And now, he had become even stronger.
It was an unbelievable reality.
The gatekeeper wondered—could the new village chief possibly handle him?
While he was lost in the abyss of past horrors for a brief moment—
"You're in a hurry to meet your end."
With just a single step, Spirit-Melting Divine Fist ascended the seven-zhang-high stone wall, flashing a grin at the gatekeeper.
"Lowly men shouldn't be plagued with such unnecessary thoughts."
"…!"
Uuuuuuuung—
The gatekeeper's head snapped up, his widened eyes reflecting the faint, white energy-clad form of Wanyang.
Once an impenetrable armor that had reigned supreme, Indestructible Body Reinforcement. Unlike other disciples of the Golden Wings Sect, the Spirit-Melting Divine Fist had sought the path of hand-to-hand combat, developing techniques focused on Dragon-Slaying Arts.
To the Iron Tribe of this city, he was the very embodiment of despair.
The faces of the gate guards, including the head gatekeeper, turned grim.
Some even tightened their grip on their weapons, as if preparing for a suicidal struggle.
Wanyang sneered and took another step forward. He was already right in front of them.
"It has been a long time. Enough for memories to fade."
"What are you planning this time?"
A voice suddenly cut in from the side.
Jung Yeonshin had already climbed onto the stone fortress.
Without waiting for a response, he reached toward Wanyang's shoulder.
It was not an especially fast strike. In fact, Wanyang's smirk lifted even faster than Jung Yeonshin's hand moved.
The Guardian of the Golden Wings Sect smiled as if things were going exactly as he wanted, twisting his body while whispering quickly with Lip Synchronization Technique.
"A mere weapon presumes to act like a person, how laughable."
Jung Yeonshin did not reply.
His palm, shrouded in the flowing fabric of his internal energy, landed on Wanyang's shoulder.
The man's words were insignificant.
There were far more important matters at hand. They had reached their destination, his tyranny had gone too far, and this warrior had developed some rather intriguing techniques.
Uuuung—
In a fleeting instant.
Jung Yeonshin meticulously traced the structure of Indestructible Body Reinforcement with the palm of his hand.
It was the same dismantling process he had practiced countless times, as natural as breathing. The only difference was the follow-up action.
Within the extremely slowed passage of time—
"…?"
Wanyang's eyebrows lifted slightly.
He had sensed something. He was just about to strike.
Jung Yeonshin's face remained expressionless.
His reaction did not matter.
At that moment, Jung Yeonshin's senses flared like wildfire, erupting from the center of his palm, spreading along Wanyang's shoulder, and surging through his entire body.
Following that sensation, his energy proliferated like countless fine blades, slicing apart Indestructible Body Reinforcement from within.
Reverse Calculation of Energy Structure.
Sword Energy.
Internal Overload Technique.
Then, Jung Yeonshin activated the Absorption Principle of Full Sky Flower Rain through the Laogong Acupoint in his palm.
Fwoooosh—!
As the powerful suction force took hold, Wanyang's Indestructible Body Reinforcement was stripped away, flowing into Jung Yeonshin's hand, up his arm, and finally cloaking his entire body.
"…!"
Wanyang's face contorted in silent shock.
Jung Yeonshin had stolen and donned the very internal energy armor that Wanyang had been wrapping himself in.
"Third-rate quality."
Jung Yeonshin spoke like a merchant evaluating a product for resale.