Meanwhile, the number of people surrounding and watching the massive canyon was growing at an alarming rate. The atmosphere was boisterous and noisy.
It seemed as though the entire population of Xi'an, the thousand-year-old ancient city, had gathered.
From beggars cursing their fate to distinguished merchants with extraordinary appearances, they filled every peak. There were even some whose grand processions included carriages, palanquins, and silk coverings, exuding an air of authority.
It was the final act of a rare grand battle.
Some martial artists from Murim, watching as third-party spectators, stood with their arms crossed, balancing on tree branches or displaying their Wall-Walking Technique against the canyon walls, standing sideways with only their feet.
"The vested interests of Shaanxi are deeply intertwined in this. Are the identities of the participants still unknown?"
"A sword technique that radiates light... Could it be from the Thirteen Celestial Demons? Or maybe from those noble families who only take in pure-blooded disciples...?"
"Will the sect leaders really die here? It's been ages since we've seen so many monstrous figures from the Demonic Faction gather in one place. Those monsters from the unorthodox sects carry all sorts of miraculous life-saving treasures…"
The conversations among them were loud and incessant.
"Pointless fools."
Wei Il-hwa twisted her lips from a distance, observing Jung Yeonshin, who had placed his hand on the thread web.
It wasn't mockery. It didn't sound like scorn.
"Did they not consider a life-or-death duel between the sect leaders? Beyond displaying the prowess of their martial forces, the priority was always to instill awe with the power of the sect leaders of the seven demonic sects. The sudden death of a mere Demon Sword Sect's leader is hardly a major issue."
Her voice carried a trace of satisfaction. The leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, who had once cast her into the abyss, now appeared to be concerned about something insignificant.
The combined attack of the sect leaders had formed a complete encirclement. Wei Il-hwa's smile deepened.
She smiled deliberately, finding satisfaction in witnessing any form of disgrace.
"You, outsider. Even in death, you shall not escape the price."
A sect with a living leader never loses its lineage. The sect leader is the sect.
The seven demonic sects of Xi'an would never relinquish their power.
Swish—
A thick wind split through the net of thread web spread by Kisoseul, imbued with the intent of the sect leaders.
The Decapitating Ghost Threads, which surrounded Jung Yeonshin sharply from above and below, was no different from the obsession of orthodox sect followers desperate to crush the Demonic Faction during a bad harvest. It was incredibly dense.
On his left and right, Bu Jo-wi and Baek Mu-ryang had readied themselves for an attack. From behind, Kang Mu-jeong stood with both fists clenched, her stance set for the Foundation-Shattering Thunder Wave.
Their upright postures and fluttering robes radiated the grandeur of sect leaders.
Jang Gi-il, the White Sun Sect's leader, stood leisurely with a peculiar expression, as though he was indifferent to the scene.
'So, this is the martial world of the sect leaders...'
Jung Yeonshin quietly observed the faces of the six sect leaders.
They were filled with confidence and conviction, their spirits soaring. There wasn't a hint of submission in any of them.
These were the powerhouses of the world of Murim. Rulers who had made their names known in the fierce world of martial arts.
When resources grew scarce, they desired more power, using it to suppress those around them and fill their bellies.
Rivers and lakes, with surfaces that rippled even under minor disturbances, transformed into violent waves.
The footsteps of the strong sent shockwaves in all directions, that was the Murim.
A world where martial masters enforced their will from exalted positions, like mountain spirits.
The Jung Clan was no exception.
It all began with a sidelong glance from a senior member of the Tyrant Sword Tribe while riding her sword. What followed that single glance at the leyline was the complete annihilation of a noble landlord's household.
'It was the place Mother had chosen.'
Jung Yeonshin thought. He had once attached sentimental feelings to the swing he had yet to ride during the Dano Festival.
Slowly, he parted his lips.
"You've acted as the strong until now."
"And we will continue to do so."
Baek Mu-ryang, the head of the Radiant Moon Clan, answered with a hearty, old-fashioned laugh.
Jung Yeonshin said no more.
Swish.
He firmly gripped the Decapitating Ghost Threads with his left hand.
A sharp pain surged. He could distinctly feel it in his grasp. He traced the Decapitating Ghost Threads Kisoseul had stretched out, cutting along its length.
It resembled a mesh of swords that glistened and refracted sunlight like an intricate net. It was sharp, as though it naturally carried sword energy within.
Blood flowed. He could feel it even without looking. He gripped it so tightly that even his internal protective energy struggled to endure it.
At the same time, the taut threads of the Decapitating Ghost Threads trembled violently. The sharp vibrations transmitted through his palm, spreading across his entire body as they collided with the Radiant River Force he had suppressed.
'Solid.'
There was no sign of it snapping. He couldn't even tell how it was anchored in place. It had to be a form of sorcery unique to the Demonic Faction, classified under the unorthodox teachings of the dark faction.
It was clearly a type of martial sorcery, but it seemed so natural. The threads, slicing through the air like fishing lines, were fluid and dynamic.
The Cutting Edge of Kisoseul.
When their eyes met, her thin lips curved faintly into a smile. Rumor had it that she had once played the zither before obtaining her mystical opportunity. Her control was as precise as a virtuoso.
The way she extended the thread-like blades with both hands looked elegant, almost leisurely.
'So one can become this strong using such methods.'
As martial skill and status rise, the world one inhabits expands, and so does one's perspective. Once again, Jung Yeonshin's world of martial arts was expanding.
The newly appointed leader of the Radiant Demon Squad was a high-level master, but not yet an experienced veteran. As a young rising star, he was still at a stage where he could use every experience as nourishment.
This situation was no different.
"That one has an abnormal sense! Don't give him the chance to act on his intentions!"
Wei Il-hwa shouted from across the canyon. She was confident that the momentum was in their favor, yet she remained cautious. The wariness toward a high-level master was thorough and meticulous.
That signaled her experience. The sect leaders, too, weren't complacent. They conjured waves of fierce energy from both flanks.
"Is there even a need to go as far as the Thunderwave Formation? This is a joint attack. We've discarded our honor, so let's kill him quickly."
Bu Jo-wi muttered through his thick lips. He lifted one large foot slightly, and the lower strands of the Decapitating Ghost Threads split apart to the sides. Without hesitation, he stomped down with one foot.
Boom—!
As his foot hit the ground, his upper body leaned forward. With both hands, he raised a massive saber high before it plummeted downward.
The surrounding threads of the Decapitating Ghost Threads scattered as though they were alive, while the underbrush around him flattened outward.
Jung Yeonshin adjusted his grip on the Beiming, which had been blocked by the threads.
In the instant he reversed the orientation of his grip, he swung upward with a snapping motion. The attack had no formality or elegance.
One was launching a carefully prepared offensive strike, while the other was improvising a defensive counter.
At the moment when the entire field of view was washed over in a flash of white steel—
Clang—!
A massive impact reverberated. It started from the base of Jung Yeonshin's thumb and index finger and shot up into his arms. The internal energy locked at his Chize Acupoint stabilized firmly.
[NOTE-Chize is an acupuncture point on the Lung Channel. Location: On the cubital crease, on the redial aspect of the biceps tendon.]
The shock traveled to his forearm, making his muscles ripple with power, and his tendons tightened sharply.
As soon as he gripped the sword hilt firmly, his energy merged entirely with it, surging as overwhelming sword force.
Boom!
The simple act of pushing upward produced a resounding boom. The tip of the Beiming brushed against the edge of Bu Jo-wi's saber, scattering waves of gray force.
The craftsmanship born of natural talent manifested even in the domain of raw power. The balance between his energy, muscle movements, footwork, and posture was in an entirely different league.
This was especially pronounced when facing inferior opponents. Bu Jo-wi couldn't find an immediate way to compensate for the gap in innate talent.
Whoosh—!
Bu Jo-wi's body flipped backward, momentarily suspended in midair. Jung Yeonshin, gripping the sword downward, glanced up at him.
The swirling winds between them continuously rustled the surrounding vegetation. To the onlookers, it seemed like a stage set for an epic dance of swords.
"What kind of sword technique is that?!"
Bu Jo-wi shouted rapidly, his lips moving with uncanny precision through the Art of Lip Synchronization, unable to steady himself midair.
Though directed at the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad, his words were meant for the other sect leaders to hear. It was a signal to follow up with a strike, laced with urgency.
That man is indeed the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad. One-on-one, he's unmanageable.
Jung Yeonshin understood this as well. The flow of events made it clear. The other sect leaders undoubtedly knew it too.
Flap, flap—!
To his left, the fluttering of fabric was intense. The vanguard originally had two members.
Bu Jo-wi, alongside Radiant Moon Clan's head Baek Mu-ryang, was blocking the path between Kisoseul, Wei Il-hwa, and Kang Mu-jeong.
The experienced master showed remarkable responses, continuously defending against the extended Decapitating Ghost Threads, the Sight Arts, and the onslaught of their one-shot killing techniques.
The moment Jung Yeonshin tried to unleash a follow-up strike, they seized the slightest gap in his breath.
It happened right after Wei Il-hwa's short whistle blew, a signal, it seemed, to indicate the perfect moment.
Whistle—! Boom!
Underneath the palm of the opponent, a sudden force, Palm Suppression, struck. It was said that the Radiant Moon Conquering Technique of the Seven Major Sects of Xi'an had an all-directional defense mechanism.
Their directional shifts were fast. It meant they excelled at emitting variable techniques.
'These people have inherently deep internal energy. I can't kill them with single strikes.'
As Jung Yeonshin raised his left hand, the bundles of Decapitating Ghost Threads around him closed in.
The glimmering threads blocked his vision, creating streaks of flickering light. Moving further would inevitably lead to cuts, he had to halt.
At the same time, Baek Mu-ryang's feet crossed twice on the ground. His strike pattern shifted unnaturally, as if he were unfolding an Illusory Sword by hand, leaving afterimages in his palm techniques.
Jung Yeonshin had accumulated energy waves during his clash with Bu Jo-wi, and now, Baek Mu-ryang released that accumulation all at once.
Shockwaves echoed through the air, hitting hard enough to tickle the eardrums.
Crash—!
From the front, Wei Il-hwa came slashing down with her sword. The hem of her scarlet sleeve, standing upright like a blade, followed the swing.
It was a terrifyingly refined horizontal strike. The sound of the atmosphere being ripped apart was deafening, as was the expression on her face, half laughing, half grimacing, her mouth agape.
To his right, Bu Jo-wi, clutching a massive saber with both hands, was falling from above.
He had already regained his stance. The roaring sound of his cleaving saber was like rolling thunder, a strike clearly timed with precision.
Their formation shifted rapidly.
Decapitating Ghost Threads tightened, while from three fronts, three deadly techniques exploded simultaneously. Even a woman at the rear, who seemed to have finished gathering her energy, twisted her waist for a follow-up attack.
They were strong. This was a combination attack he had never seen before.
They were leagues above the underlings. Just as the rumors said, the sect leaders reaped all the benefits, including elixirs and secret techniques.
In the grand Murim, the Demonic Faction deserved its reputation. These were figures worthy of being called sect leaders of the unorthodox sects.
Cackling—!
A bizarre laugh burst out from behind Baek Mu-ryang's shoulder. It was Kisoseul, who was manipulating the Decapitating Ghost Threads.
Because it was amplified through the Art of Lip Synchronization, it sounded eerie, as if mocking them even in death, as they crossed the River of Three Crossings to the afterlife.
Swish.
Jung Yeonshin placed his left fingers against one of the Decapitating Ghost Threads tightening toward his skin. Suddenly, the laughter, which had been ringing like rays of light, stopped.
Buzz—!
A resonant sound followed as a translucent boundary appeared, flowing along his hand.
It traced a smooth arc, like ripping a paper screen at the door threshold, as his fingers moved downward.
Through the gap, shimmering rays of light slowly revealed themselves.
Jung Yeonshin's hand penetrated the boundary between martial sorcery and martial arts, grasping the bundle of threads that Kisoseul had spread out. He had found them by feeling his way through the sensory feedback.
The leader of the Radiant Demon Squad thought absentmindedly.
'It looks amusing, so it's mine by right.'
A flash of lightning-like brilliance erupted from the Baihui Acupoint at the top of his head. The strands of energy he had woven earlier unraveled the mysteries behind Kisoseul's Decapitating Ghost Threads Formation.
Where it bent, how it was anchored, and at what angle the internal energy had to flow to achieve the intended effect.
Understanding, derived from his energy sense, spread like lightning. Where comprehension through sorcery was impossible, he substituted with internal energy techniques.
His natural talent, as if living ten days within a single day, flared like a wildfire in his mind, ruthlessly demolishing the chasm between ordinary achievements and the flow of time, reducing it to ashes.
Then, suddenly the interpretation of the sorcerous mechanism ended. It was a design akin to a mechanical formation, extraordinarily precise.
Taking control of the Decapitating Ghost Threads was easy. Jung Yeonshin had been overwhelming Kisoseul in terms of internal energy output from the start.
The Radiant Wheel, rotating within his heart, unleashed waves of energy.
Simultaneously, Kisoseul's internal energy was pushed out and scattered from the threads of the Decapitating Ghost Threads.
In the next moment, the powerful strands lit up with radiant beams of light, adorning the surroundings in a lattice pattern. Space itself seemed to be carved into dozens of paths.
Buzz!
The resonance of the Radiant River previously stored in the threads began to emanate. Metallic strands reverberated along Jung Yeonshin's fingertips.
Their matching internal energy waves prevented the threads from piercing him. Instead, they seemed to serve a new master.
The threads whispered to Jung Yeonshin, urging him to gently tap his fingers and play them like strings, to flick his energy with ease.
The sensation, from his grip to his mind, was vivid.
'Like this.'
Following that sensation, he gently swept his hand as if strumming a harp. One by one, the threads produced a soft metallic resonance, their vibrations deep and resounding.
Simultaneously—
Boom!
Golden strands shot skyward like an explosion. The blazing sensation at his upper dantian seemed to freeze time in his mind, as if the act had transcended ordinary limits.
The attack had been as swift as a lightning strike. The golden threads, interwoven like a net, instantly entangled Wei Il-hwa, Bu Jo-wi, Baek Mu-ryang, and even dozens of phoenix trees.
The sect leaders of the unorthodox sects were instantly bound to tree trunks as the golden light strands shimmered indifferently under the sun.
"Kisoseul! What are you doing?"
"No, this is... insane...!"
"Aaah! My threads! My threads!"
Bu Jo-wi screamed hysterically, while Wei Il-hwa's eyes bulged, and Kisoseul collapsed to the ground, shrieking like a madwoman.
Only Baek Mu-ryang, with his blood-soaked body, managed to stir up another wave of internal energy as his beard, in shreds, hung limply.
From afar—
Huff—
Kang Mu-jeong of the Thunderwave Formation took a deep breath, as though her soul itself had briefly stilled. She locked her internal breath within her body, enhancing her striking power.
The atmosphere shifted immediately. Winds that had previously surged forward now reversed, surging back.
Whoosh!
The charge for the Foundation-Shattering Thunder Wave had been completed.
Her body radiated an explosive aura, and as her red battle robe appeared particularly vivid, Kang Mu-jeong leaned forward, launching a punch.
She assumed a perfect posture for a decisive strike, channeling all her strength into a single blow.
The shockwave of her fist, burning with gray energy, charged forward like a cannon blast, reminiscent of Shaolin's Hundred Steps Divine Fist.
Boom!
Jung Yeonshin's dark sleeve rippled simultaneously.
Step.
He stood atop one of the threads of the Decapitating Ghost Threads.
In that instant, the massive web of golden threads moved as one, forming a barrier in front of him.
By reversing the structural pattern of the shockwave using the principles of the Sixty-Four Hexagrams, he had constructed a defensive web between himself and Kang Mu-jeong.
Buzz—!
A wave of gray energy collided with the golden web, breaking apart like sea foam. It was a surreal sight.
For the first time, an expression of shock appeared on Kang Mu-jeong's face as the golden threads wrapped diagonally around her body.
"Too light. It won't work on a master of this level."
As if it merely added to his collection, the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad murmured. His resolute gaze sharpened like a blade.
"Wait... if you kill us now, Xi'an's order will—"
"I'm the head of the Radiant Moon Clan. I can offer you much."
"Return it! Return my threads!"
They were bound to tree trunks. Wei Il-hwa, Baek Mu-ryang, and Kisoseul each babbled their pleas. Bu Jo-wi of the Heaven's End Sword Sect merely mouthed, "Kill."
In an instant, the tides of victory and defeat had reversed. Life-and-death battles among masters were always this unpredictable.
"The main tenet of my sect is not capture."
Jung Yeonshin said.
Just like when the Jung Clan was annihilated by the Tyrant Sword Tribe, Desolate Fortress had always leaned toward the unorthodox sects in its methods, unlike the government officials.
Jianghu was a barbaric world governed by the law of the jungle. Desolate Fortress did not expect rehabilitation from powerful martial artists.
Those who exercised godlike power often exploited, killed, and enslaved commoners.
Eliminating future threats was more beneficial for the people, that was the perspective of both Desolate Fortress and the nation.
"I know you've enjoyed yourselves enough. Now die."
Step.
The leader of the Radiant Demon Squad stepped on another thread of the Decapitating Ghost Threads. The sect leaders of the unorthodox sects weren't given time to express regret, frustration, or relief.
Kisoseul's earlier laughter had returned to Jung Yeonshin as intended. What they took with them before death were faces filled with despair.
Splash!
Blood sprayed in all directions, scattering like dried grass in the winter breeze.
Simultaneously, the canyon fell silent.
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