Step—
The Ten Perfection Sect's leaders stopped surrounding Jung Yeonshin and stood in place.
Twelve identical figures. The white armor, symbolizing Ten Thousand Soldiers, Ten Thousand Generals, gleamed under the silent sunlight.
"...."
Jung Yeonshin held a small axe.
The Small Axe that had been flung away by force. Multiple cracks lined its blade, yet it still seemed usable.
Perhaps because it had absorbed attacks in haste rather than facing a full-fledged assault.
Jung Yeonshin recalled the axe strikes of the Ten Perfection Sect's leader.
'There was no formality.'
A seemingly random strike, an unrefined inner force barrier, a technique that barely deflected energy waves.
Yet, it properly blocked internal energy. The user didn't appear to have refined any profound Turo.
'Come to think of it....'
The first martial art Jung Yeonshin encountered in Desolate Fortress was Radiant Demon Arts.
It was known for its adaptable movements and mnemonic verses that worked with any weapon. However, the primary means he had used to kill his enemies had been his fists and sword.
Jung Yeonshin lowered the Small Axe slightly. If he deeply explored a different weapon, could he too step into the realm of Surpassing Limits Martial Arts?
At that moment—
[Your swordsmanship and footwork are undoubtedly one with your body.]
The twelve figures surrounding him spoke simultaneously.
Rather than eerie, it felt simply overwhelming. Identical smiles adorned their faces.
[But what do you intend to do with that? Axe mastery is something one refines on the battlefield.]
"Is this place not a battlefield?"
Jung Yeonshin replied calmly. The Small Axe in his left hand spun in place.
He had stirred a slight energy wave with his palm, and it responded better than expected.
The reflection of its blade caught the face of one of the Ten Perfection Sect's leaders.
An approving smile stood out against the dim backlight. He did not look like a man mourning the loss of his disciples at Jung Yeonshin's hands.
[I am twelve in number, so your words are not wrong. Finding a battlefield of this scale in the world is difficult.]
"You have a broad mind, Sect leader. I appreciate the courtesy."
[…Courtesy?]
Jung Yeonshin did not answer.
His eyes had long been infused with Heaven-Piercing Technique. Initially, they held a sky-blue hue, but soon, they deepened into a rich azure glow as he scanned his enemies.
'Fascinating.'
From the perspective of Internal Energy Techniques, all of them were no different from the Ten Perfection Sect's leader he had previously fought.
The energy waves emanating from their twelve bodies were identical, like tangible smoke with only slightly blurred forms.
'Surpassing Limits Martial Arts.'
The flow, intervals, and density of their energy waves sweeping in all directions were exactly the same.
This meant that their initial strike was guaranteed to be on par with the original Ten Perfection Sect's leader.
Jung Yeonshin pondered, what kind of enlightenment was this?
[Your eyes are unsettling. What are you thinking?]
The Ten Perfection Sect's leader who had last stepped forward to take up the axe spoke.
His expression showed the unease of having glimpsed something disturbing. He was the closest to Jung Yeonshin, and unlike the others, his form was distinctly outlined.
'I won't understand unless I experience it myself.'
Jung Yeonshin abandoned his thoughts on the mysteries of Surpassing Limits Martial Arts.
At that moment—
The figures of the Ten Perfection Sect's leaders suddenly filled his vision.
Barehanded, unarmed, they charged forward.
The sight of open palms scorching the very air was mesmerizing.
[There is a technique counted among the Eighteen Weapon Arts despite not being a weapon.]
[Hundred Strikes of the Bare Fist.]
The other Ten Perfection Sect's leaders joined in. In a single step, they flanked Jung Yeonshin from both sides.
[Your arrogance does not concern me.]
[But if we do not avenge our comrades and disciples here, who would ever seek to enter our sect?]
They spoke faster than Lip Synchronization Arts, each aiming their Fang Tian Halberds at Jung Yeonshin's flanks, while Crescent Blades descended toward his head.
Three attack points—front, left, and right.
The air rippled with semi-transparency.
Jung Yeonshin subtly twisted his waist and firmly grasped the Yurei.
The Transcending Law Radiant Wheel flashed through his meridians like a bolt of light.
Lowering his stance slightly, he stepped forward and spun with his sword.
Swish!
He passed right by the Ten Perfection Sect's leader who had thrown a punch at him from the front.
Wind Body Technique.
The sensation of his blade scraping against armor pricked at his grip.
A whirlwind of dust kicked up at his feet.
The recoil from his footwork and sword strike rapidly spread, lifting swirling energy waves that climbed up his legs and surged behind him, intercepting the oncoming Fang Tian Halberds and Crescent Blades.
Even the aftermath of his strike became a means of attack.
Hwaaaaaah!
The trajectory of the two weapons twisted.
For an instant, it felt as if the sky behind him had split wide open.
That space had been brimming with the intense energy waves of the Ten Perfection Sect's leaders.
Jung Yeonshin turned around.
With just that, he had fully escaped from the Three Sequential Strike Formation. A perfect counter.
Swish.
Sunlight poured down the blade of Yurei, held downward in the Radiant Demon Squad's leader's grip.
His black longcoat, dirtied at the hem, gave him a solitary yet untouchable presence.
His long, flowing hair further deepened that aura. The near-completed form of a martial artist.
A robust beauty.
Amidst the crowd captivated by the supernatural abilities of the Ten Perfection Sect's leaders, admiration rippled.
[Truly an astonishing Protective Energy Technique. Not only your light movement but your footwork as well.]
The barehanded Ten Perfection Sect's leader touched his ribs.
A single, straight sword mark lined his armor—proof that Radiant Demon Squad's leader's strike had momentarily severed his defensive aura.
[You have the traits of an elite lineage, yet your style is far more refined and swift. You must have forged your own martial lineage.]
"...."
Jung Yeonshin slightly lowered his eyelids.
He focused on the lingering sensation in his blade. Severing defensive aura was not the end. Their armor was infused with energy essence.
Dealing a fatal blow would not be easy.
The Fang Tian Halberds and Crescent Blades he had sensed moments ago—he recalled their movements.
Even in their brief strikes, they carried the essence of weaponry techniques.
Then—
Step, step.
The Ten Perfection Sect's leaders advanced.
[They say Radiant Demon Squad's leader's martial arts take one of two paths.]
[A swift and decisive duel, or an overwhelmingly brilliant onslaught.]
[This is neither. Are you planning to die?]
They spoke leisurely, spreading out. Their condescending gazes felt almost natural.
Hwaaaah!
The sky trembled and distorted.
A crushing pressure filled the space, as if this battle would not be settled in just three strikes.
Closing in, they took up a Tactical Circle Formation.
Jung Yeonshin shook the Small Axe in his left hand.
Fwaaang—
It felt comfortable in his grip.
Nowhere near the divine blade Yurei, but well-balanced from blade to handle.
'I must conserve my strength.'
Today, he planned to defeat three of the demonic sect's leaders.
Retreat was not an option.
The blood debt of Desolate Fortress had to be repaid by its warriors.
And the leader of the Emei Sect must not fall to the Golden Wings Sect's leader.
A scorching sensation weighed on his shoulder. It had been grazed by the widely dispersed sword aura.
His own blood streaked red across the edge of his vision, yet Jung Yeonshin did not activate the newly devised Protective Energy Technique.
He had no intention of revealing it prematurely to Golden Wings Sect's leader, who was watching the duel.
Without looking back, he swung Yurei upward behind him.
A sharp resonance rang out—Jjeong!—and the force traveled from the blade down to his elbow. The shaft of the sickle, blocked by Yurei, bent limply in place.
'This too is a divine weapon.'
Jung Yeonshin thought.
In his mind, the Divine Dragon took the shape of a fan, wrapping around Yurei.
The moment he opened his hand, Yurei curved along the sickle's trajectory, slicing clean through the Ten Perfection Sect's leader's neck before embedding itself in the ground.
The enemy had no time to launch another attack.
Bang!
The earth quaked violently when the Yurei struck.
[The overlapping energy waves in your strikes reach tenfold? Impossible to withstand.]
From a distance, the Ten Perfection Sect's leader with the shield raised his blurred form.
[Your energy accumulation is one thing, but your internal energy control is truly monstrous.]
The Ten Perfection Sect's leader who had wielded the Fang-Tian Halberd and had been beheaded was regrowing his head, as if possessing some regenerative ability.
'I see now.'
Jung Yeonshin sensed the True Energy surging into them like a flowing stream.
An invisible channel of Internal Energy. It was emanating from a distant Ten Perfection Sect's leader standing with his arms folded.
It was as if his spirit had fused with his energy, creating avatars.
There was a term for such a phenomenon in Taoist Studies. Jung Yeonshin slowly spoke.
"I thought Nascent Spirit was a forbidden technique used by Wudang's Ancient Sword Arts."
[So, you figured it out?]
The Ten Perfection Sect's leaders laughed.
[That big-mouthed old man was quite the inspiration. Though I use it differently.]
"You have connections with him?"
[The Nine Great Sects consist of Buddhist temples and Taoist monasteries. Without the emperor's permission, they cannot expand their influence.
That means they must obey imperial commands, whether it's exterminating Spiritual Beasts and Demonic Creatures, or being conscripted as military forces for the northern front.]
The Ten Perfection Sect's leaders did not stop their advance.
Step.
The once green foliage, reaching toward the spring sun, crumbled underfoot, returning to the earth.
With each step, the distance between them narrowed, and the pressure thickened.
It wasn't due to their internal energy. In terms of energy reserves, Jung Yeonshin held the advantage.
But the overwhelming Spiritual Presence of the Ten Perfection Sect's leaders was forging an unseen technique at this very moment.
A mastery that transcended the Eighteen Weapon Arts, manipulating forces beyond True Energy, shaping reality itself.
Saaaah—
[The warriors of Jianghu are curious.]
Surrounding him with an array of different weapons, they formed a near-perfect Wheel Formation.
[If one digs many wells, none will be deep. So how did I master all Eighteen Weapon Arts to become a supreme martial artist?]
It resembled the Great Sage Equal to Heaven Cloning Technique from an ink painting, each figure adopting a stance fitting their weapon.
[Because I understand the Essence of Weapons.]
The space around them seemed blocked by an invisible, dome-like force. Air no longer circulated.
A formation had been activated.
This was martial arts extending beyond its limits into something greater—The Pinnacle of the Demonic Faction.
Hwoooong!
Without warning, the first strike came.
A Meteor Hammer shot forward, its heavy metal sphere tearing through the air.
It was aimed at his shoulder. If it struck directly, it would dislocate his arm.
The impact roared like the collective strikes of hundreds of skilled martial artists.
A strike imbued with immense energy shockwave.
Jung Yeonshin condensed Radiant Wheel Energy from his axe-wielding arm to his Jianliao Acupoint on his shoulder.
Jjeooooong!
The moment his axe clashed with the Meteor Hammer, the ground caved in.
He felt the True Energy seeping through his wrist bones—a sign of Internal Energy Manipulation.
The Ten Perfection Sect's leader wielding the Meteor Hammer staggered back, his form fading momentarily from the exhaustion of his attack.
As he regained clarity, other Ten Perfection Sect's leaders charged in—wielding Nine-Section Whips, Fang Tian Halberd, Crescent Blade, and a single sword.
Saaaaaah—!
Two streaks of light carved across their necks.
The reversed wind from his Sword Arts blew the dust into circular waves.
Two figures, clutching their Nine-Section Whip and Fang Tian Halberd, were sent flying.
Meanwhile, Yurei spun wildly, tearing through the battlefield.
Five Ten Perfection Sect's leaders at the perimeter dashed forward with blinding movement technique to close in on the weapon.
Jung Yeonshin was surrounded by seven foes.
He had to use Infinite Blossom Fist Strike. His twin fists pulsed with the explosive force of Radiant River.
Jjeoooong! Kwaaaaaang!
He deflected a spear thrust with the back of his hand, crushed a sword aura in his palm. The entire mountain peak trembled with each clash.
Blades. Everywhere.
It felt like being trapped in the Sword Mountain Hell of the underworld.
The swirling dust spiraled violently, fragmented by countless shockwaves that layered in tenfold, twentyfold bursts.
They grew faster.
Supreme masters. Their attack speed neared its peak in terrifyingly brief intervals.
As the confrontation intensified, their forms flickered and blurred.
Only those absorbing True Energy in intervals became briefly clear before vanishing again.
Even amid this, hundreds of streaks of light ceaselessly locked onto Jung Yeonshin.
A relentless barrage of all manner of weapons, each screaming through the air.
Jung Yeonshin's eyes shimmered with azure streaks, flowing like water, tracing his movements and head tilts.
[Your movement alone is enough to establish a martial lineage. You surpass any of the Eight Great Clans' heirs!]
[If the Martial God had seen you, he would have taken you as a disciple rather than cutting you down. You must never be allowed to reach the North!]
[Such wasted years!]
[In ten more, the world might have seen a new Supreme Martial Artist…]
Saaaah! Puhak!
A Nine-Section Whip struck his side, while an energy wave from one of the Ten Perfection Sect's leaders split his shoulder.
Yet he felt no pain—only the rising thrill in his mind.
Never had he drawn such an abundance of fortuitous encounters from an enemy.
Hundreds of trajectories filled his vision.
Swords, sabers, spears, axes, whips, staffs—countless shifting light streaks engraving themselves into his memory like searing brands.
Since the Song Dynasty to the present day.
The Eighteen Weapon Arts had been refined over generations.
Hundreds of years of knowledge, an insurmountable depth.
Could he ever hope to grasp it within his mere nineteen years of life?
Thump!
A sound echoed inside his skull. A bolt of exhilaration struck his mind. Alongside it, the frustration of time. Innate talent was only an aid.
Deep within him, a wildfire of desire and resentment for time itself ignited. He wanted to see more. He had to see more.
Jung Yeonshin let his body move freely.
Ducking, twisting, striking—his instincts guided him without thought.
Expanding his energy perception, he embraced the presence of every Ten Perfection Sect's leader.
He absorbed their weapon trajectories, grip techniques, energy wave execution, as intimately as when he had once faced the Seventh Apostle.
'Ah.'
A wave washed over him.
The same sensation he had felt from the Ghost Roar Tyrant King's mastery of Surpassing Limits Martial Arts.
It was time itself.
A weight of centuries surrounded him, swirling like clouds in his upper dantian.
As though every weapon present had been etched into a single volume in his mind.
Pages turned rapidly—Pararak!—filled with empty spaces.
Yet he didn't mind.
Annotations could come later.
[You make no attempt at defense. You truly favor short duels.]
[It ends here.]
From above, two Ten Perfection Sect's leaders descended, striking down with a Fang Tian Halberd and a Cudgel.
Their attacks, already amplified, burst into blinding black-and-white lightning.
Jung Yeonshin snapped his fingers.
A white Finger Wind shot upward, slamming into their arms.
As their limbs blurred, their energy shockwaves weakened.
At the same time, Jung Yeonshin tossed his axe and activated the Golden Flow Hand, spreading his arms wide.
He coiled their weapons around his own.
Snap!
[...!]
In the next instant, Jung Yeonshin had seized their Fang Tian Halberd and Cudgel.
His black sleeves billowed violently to either side.
'Ten seconds.'
He thought.