The mountain path was silent.
Only the dry leaves rustled as they rolled over the even drier earth.
A sudden breeze brushed against Jung Yeonshin's skin, carrying the heat of a drought-ridden summer, devoid of any moisture. Only the glaring sunlight was overly loud.
"..."
Jung Yeonshin gazed past the young man standing before him, looking beyond his shoulder.
The more he stared at a single point, the blurrier his vision became. In the center of it all, a withered old tree weakly swayed its barren branches, and high above, the scorching sun hung in the sky without a single cloud to soften its glare.
Suddenly, the tangled thoughts in his mind dissipated. Was the Order's leader safe? If the Pact of Mount Hua was upheld, who among the blue and white would be sent forward…?
A sense of unnatural stillness permeated the air.
A formation, vast enough that its size could not be guessed, concealed all traces of those beyond it.
It was not as sophisticated as the arts of the Dark Night War or the Blood Flame Cult. At most, it was enough to deceive wandering vagabonds or those searching for He Shou Wu.
But it was sufficient to elude the eyes of the world.
This place was a remote, isolated valley deep within the mountains.
The formation's scale alone made it a remarkable technique, and the land itself was untouched, an expanse where even the hidden members of any sect would struggle to locate their own.
"…Taemo Mountain Fortress."
At Jung Yeonshin's murmur, the young man reacted immediately.
"You're from there? I had a feeling you weren't just any ordinary traveler… Ah, I mean that in a good way. I eat my meals under Yeoryung's roof. I may not be a formal disciple, but…"
Despite his seemingly amiable words, his expression was uneasy. Taemo Mountain Fortress was unlike any of the other Thirteen Celestial Demons.
Even among the demonic faction, opinions on them were sharply divided.
The grand sect that had split off from the Mosan Sect's spell martial arts always carried eerie rumors.
Some claimed they offered the blood of commoners at temple altars to craft flesh, while others whispered that they used dark sorcery to drain the life force of sacred mountains for strange, unfathomable rituals.
Step.
The unkempt-haired young man took a half-step back.
"In any case, there was no need for you to come out personally. As you know, this is the Eighth Village. It's quite a distance from the Seventeenth Village, where all the commotion is happening, but… There's been an odd rumor going around in the nearby villages that Taoists from the Nine Great Sects have appeared. Be cautious, Executioner. Whether they wield the Plum Blossom Sword or the Taiji Sword, they never speak of the way before us, do they?"
His tongue was long-winded. A warrior of the demonic faction, indeed.
Jung Yeonshin silently studied the young man's face. If he had truly arrived at the correct destination, then the man before him was a fiend that deserved death. It meant he had a hand in aiding the Divine Sword Order's leader's assassination.
He slowly opened his mouth.
"How vast is the inside?"
"Hmm? The formation was created by the sorcerers from that side…? You don't seem like an ordinary practitioner, though."
Suspicion flickered across the young man's face.
A brief silence followed. His pitch-black, glossy eyes alternated between glancing at Young Lord and Jung Yeonshin.
Then, upon noticing Young Lord's faded noble robes, his expression changed to one of realization.
He failed to notice the faint, involuntary twitch of Jung Yeonshin's sword hilt at his waist.
"Judging by your attire, you must be someone of status. That bow, your skin, the hardened calluses… You're from the Dark Night War. Is Taemo Mountain Fortress your guide?"
"…An unnecessary question. How long do you intend to keep us standing here?"
Young Lord pressed in an antiquated tone.
He was a man who valued the commoners of his clan dearly.
Ever since the leader of the Radiant Current Squad secured the Dark Night War's disciples in Guizhou, his cooperation with Jung Yeonshin had been unwavering.
"Well, my apologies. This way."
The unkempt-haired young man turned around with a grumble.
From the beginning, there was not a single person among the faded noble lineage who bore goodwill toward the Desolate Fortress.
Their very skin symbolized the lineage of traitors who had once hindered the founding of the nation. They deserved more trust than the vagrants inside the formation.
"I expect you'll keep up well enough. Watch your footing carefully."
Step.
The sound of his footsteps quickly faded. He had activated his movement arts, heading toward the formation's living gate.
A faint surge of energy pulsed from the Yongcheon acupoint on his sole as he advanced, yet not a single footprint was left behind on the dirt ground.
It was an unfamiliar place. Understanding the geography and situation properly came first.
Jung Yeonshin followed after him and parted his lips.
"I asked how vast the inside is."
"Does it matter? If you're wise, you'd stay here, in the Eighth Village. Stirring up trouble in other villages won't end well for you."
"..."
"The vagrants here were all personally invited by Yeoryung Sect. They were carefully selected and hired, each of them with a knack for wielding a blade.
On top of that, they're desperate for salt and meat, no matter how much they gorge themselves. Unless you're distributing rations like an executioner's mentor, you won't even scare them…"
"I do not repeat myself three times."
"…It's absurdly large. It follows, or rather predicts, 'his' movements. It's a Heaven-Spanning Net, far beyond ordinary scale. Even after this affair is over, it'll likely serve as a settlement. It's more abundant than most cities."
"'His'?"
"The one who wields the Transcendent Sword. The monster who carries the surname Yong."
The young man answered offhandedly, then added, as if to be heard clearly.
"If you act this rudely in the village, you'll meet an unpleasant end."
"..."
Jung Yeonshin remained silent.
This, too, was the purple Jianghu. They had built over a dozen forward bases to hunt down a single Divine Sword Order's leader.
It was a massive Sequential Battle Formation.
Meanwhile, Young Lord, who had been following Jung Yeonshin, glanced at him.
They had arrived at their exact destination. The Dreadfeather Raven had not led them astray.
—Can you deliver a message to your leader? I sold my position to ensure the safety of the common folk. I deserve to be treated with respect…
Jung Yeonshin did not respond. A voice, belonging to Ak Surim, had intertwined with Young Lord's telepathic message, echoing in his ear.
—You heard them babbling about the Eighth and Seventeenth Villages, right? It seems they had been setting traps along every path the Order's leader might pass. Formations, sheer numbers, poison, even absolute masters—every possible means is being used to corner him. It'd be best if we split up.
—You're suggesting we form separate groups?
Jung Yeonshin replied through telepathy.
—Yep! There are twelve of us, so how about four, four, three, and one? I'll take Shin and So-so with me to handle the village on your left. The rest can figure it out on their own.
—And the lone one…?
—I'm talking about you. Even when Yong led the Divine Sword Squad, he always operated as a single unit.
—…If we all split up, how do you plan to enter the formation? My assistance…
—Huh?
Suddenly, the girl's laughter tickled his ear, her voice carrying an almost proud amusement.
—Well, even you, not to mention Order's leader Yong, might find it strange. Yong has never led more than ten under the black rank, after all.
—Pardon?
―That level of formation can be broken with just a touch from Myungjo's foot. For So-so or Shin Huang, it's a mere single punch. And besides, So-so even has a sapling of the World Tree. Among the sacred artifacts used in formations, it's the greatest in the world, whether as a wall or a gate.
Ak Surim spoke, her voice tinged with laughter.
Jung Yeonshin didn't listen to the rest of her words.
He briefly recalled the refined leg techniques of Supreme Demon of Sacred Blood, Jin Myungjo, and nodded in understanding. Anything was possible.
―You've endured much. This is your final mission before we ascend to Beijing.
A whisper scattered in the crisp early summer breeze. At last, the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad was about to enter the city, executing the Heaven-Spanning Net that deceived the world.
Leaving behind the command of the vice-leader of the Divine Sword Order, Jung Yeonshin stepped forward, his footprints marking the dirt path. Step—his footfall echoed, and behind him, the deserted trail faded into a blur.
* * *
The moment he stepped into the formation hidden in the remote mountain village, a cacophony of noise struck his ears.
Shouts laced with intoxication, the scraping of whetstones, sharpening blades, thunderous snoring, and the lively voice of a tavern boy soliciting customers.
What lay before him was a proper village.
An inn haphazardly built from logs, a tavern billowing smoke despite lacking the scent of food, and martial artists sprawled across the ground, rooftops, and anywhere they pleased.
Most of them were armed with swords, sickles, and various weapons.
"..."
It was certainly because money was involved. Even if it was a matter of food supplies, it made sense. A wag"1">