Chapter 160

Chapter 160
# Chapter 160
## Atop Dongdae Peak

In Hebei Province, nestled along the eastern foothills of the Taihang Mountains, rose Mount So-o.

At Dongdae Peak, the highest summit of Mount So-o—and indeed the loftiest point in all Hebei—Yin Hu tilted her teacup, gazing down at the mortal world spread out far below.

“You old fox. Are you truly certain you have no need to come along?”

Though the sweet, rich scent of steeped tea drifted through the air, Yin Hu’s brow furrowed.

“Dragon King. Have I not hammered it into your thick head never to address me so?”

Standing beside her on Dongdae’s crest was another figure: an elderly man with long, flowing white hair and beard. Most striking was his bearing—advanced years notwithstanding, his frame stood as sturdy and powerful as any Shaolin monk’s. One of the Heavenly Martial Ten Venerables, Great Sea Dragon King Blade Peng Fan, let out a hearty laugh.

“I know, I know. But it’s hardly untrue, is it?”

As Yin Hu sighed, Peng Fan pressed on.

“Now look—rejuvenation arts or whatever, fine. But you must admit, it’s hardly ordinary for someone well past one hundred and fifteen to look no older than a girl of fifteen!”

What followed was a gentle melody, yet the power woven within it might have crumbled the very peak beneath them. Peng Fan made no move to deflect; he took the full force of that sonic resonance directly.

“Hmm—your cultivation has climbed another rung? Even so, a mere taste of such power cannot harm this body!”

Yin Hu clicked her tongue in exasperation. The Great Sea Dragon King Blade Peng Fan was always this way: a rough, unrefined man with precious little dignity or grace.

“Enough banter. Let us speak plainly. You cast your gaze toward the mortal realm often enough—those disciples you left behind weigh on your mind, do they not? Are you truly content to remain here?”

“I am perfectly well. My disciples are no weaklings.”

“Is that so? For you, the Sky-Shattering Yin Queen, to speak of them with such confidence… you have truly stirred my curiosity.”

Seeing the clear interest written across Peng Fan’s face, Yin Hu’s expression hardened once more.

“Let it remain nothing more than curiosity. Both are exceptional disciples.”

“Yet one hails from an ordinary, secular household, does she not? Surely a single glance would do no harm…”

“I said no.”

The Great Sea Dragon King Blade Peng Fan served as Supreme Elder of the Peng Clan of Hebei, one of the Five Great Clans across the world. He had wandered far and wide seeking a worthy heir to carry on his legacy. But the unique nature of the martial art he himself had forged made finding a successor no easy task; neither the Peng Clan’s own descendants nor the countless prodigies throughout the land had met his exacting standards.

“You know the truth as well as I do. You are fated never to find such a disciple.”

“That is precisely why my curiosity burns so. Who can say what might happen?”

“I have already said no.”

“Heh heh—your sharp refusal only fans the flames. Surely at least one shows genuine promise?”

Finding herself worn down by his persistent manner, Yin Hu let the matter drop. In truth, a flicker of quiet doubt gnawed at her as well. *That young man… he might just measure up to this old man’s standards.* The greatest natural talent in the world would not suffice as Peng Fan’s disciple—yet perhaps Yang-hui could manage it.

“Tch. How fortunate, taking on two disciples in your later years. That is exactly why I say: linger here too long, and you may lose them both.”

Even from their place of seclusion, news of the outside world found its way to them—including word of the devastating conflict tearing through Gangseo. To Peng Fan’s mind, no matter how gifted they might be, such upheaval was far too great a burden for youths of sixteen to bear.

“It will be fine. Their fates will not be broken by something so trivial as what unfolds in Gangseo.”

“Fates…”

Even among the Heavenly Martial Ten Venerables, each possessed their own distinct area of mastery. Reading the will of the heavens was the special gift of the Sacred Sound Jade Spirit Gate, a sect steeped in the pursuit of immortal cultivation through the ages—and it was precisely this that had brought Peng Fan to stand beside Yin Hu now.

“Seol-ha has likely already advanced to the Peak Realm.”

“Ho? Peak Realm at sixteen? And wielding the sonic arts of the Sacred Sound Jade Spirit Gate, no less?”

The Sacred Sound Jade Spirit Gate followed a Dao path dedicated to reaching immortality. Like most orthodox martial traditions, progress in its early stages came only with great difficulty.

“I never wished for my disciples to rush their advancement, yet their own choices have led them onward.”

“Meaning—without your direct guidance—they have already stepped into the Peak Realm at such an age?”

“Indeed. Seol-ha’s senior brother, Young Master Baek, is truly extraordinary…” Yin Hu trailed off. In her eagerness to speak highly of her disciples, she had said more than she intended—and now she saw keen, greedy interest kindle in Peng Fan’s eyes.

“Once more: no.”

“Very well, very well! Say no more. A sonic master of the Sacred Sound path at the Peak Realm? Surely even great turmoil would pose little threat to one such as she.”

“Precisely. The arts of my school shine brightest when facing great numbers.”

This was the origin of her title, the Sky-Shattering Yin Queen. Sonic arts wielded at such heights held power enough to split the heavens themselves. Against them, the sheer size of an enemy force meant nothing.

“Fair enough. Then there is no cause for concern.”

“Let us depart, then, before those children suffer harm.”

“We have rested long enough. You speak truly—for the sake of my own descendants as well, we must root out Reverse Heaven before it can take hold.”

In an instant, both figures vanished without a trace.

—

Not long before, Yang-hui had attempted to repurpose the Blood God Demon Sword—a blade so stubborn it would neither break nor yield its secrets—for Je-gal Seol-ha’s training. Even Baek Cheol, blessed with talent enough to be called the finest blacksmith of his generation, had failed to shape it. And yet it had broken. Then a voice had spoken from the heavens:

*If you are trying to send a message, at least make it clear.*

Stars meet, and fortunes turn? What absurd, far-fetched nonsense was that? Dwelling on cryptic words was not Yang-hui’s way. Still, from those broken fragments he had found something of practical value. *Using the power of Star Iron alone, we might turn our disadvantage into victory.* He named those shards Star Iron—a simple choice, inspired by those strange words from the sky. Its power was straightforward: it amplified both absorbed energy and mental imagery.

“Unleash it all, Seol-ha!”

Je-gal Seol-ha played the Heavenly Sound Pipa as one possessed. Its strings were naturally clear and pure, yet the melody that rose up blazed with vivid, living color. Human voices seemed woven into the notes themselves. This was the gift of a Peak sonic master: the realm of Phonetic Landscape.

*Ding-ring, ding-ri-ring!*
*Cha-rang, cha-lang-cha-lang!*

*Aaaaahhh—!*

Once, Yin Hu could summon melodies from a dozen instruments with nothing more than a snap of her fingers. Seol-ha had not yet reached that height, yet her performance alone carried the richness of a full orchestra, layer upon layer weaving together. And the effect was devastating.

“Sorcery!”
“Stabilize your inner energy! Guard your minds!”
“Ah—aaaahhh!”

The forces of the underworld had charged in numbering two hundred; barely a hundred remained standing. A hundred warriors—an army, by any measure—and Je-gal Seol-ha held them all at bay alone.

*How do you like Peach Blossom Qi now, you wretches?*

Peach Blossom Qi spread everywhere the melody touched. Its soft, intoxicating power slipped past defenses, seeping through ears to unsettle the very minds of the underworld soldiers. Those of lesser cultivation were overwhelmed by the energy and visions flooding their senses; blood trickled from every opening. Those of higher standing—seasoned masters, Peak experts—gathered their strength to fend off the assault, yet they could not cast it off entirely.

*If it were easy to resist, Seol-ha would never have suffered so deeply from her Peach Blossom Body.* Even the most gifted of the Je-gal Clan had once fallen prey to that very power. And now, strengthened by the Star Iron Collar she wore, it was turned against their foes.

“Now—strike!”
“At once!”
“We obey!”

The warriors of the Baek Clan held firm the Heavenly Aid Fate-Transforming Formation and cut through the disoriented enemy ranks.

“Ugh!”
“Hold fast! Keep your focus!”
“Why are these men unaffected by the sound?”

*Why? Because this is the true might of a Peak sonic master.*

Sound naturally spreads outward in rippling circles—yet Phonetic Landscape reshaped it entirely. It allowed control over where that sound traveled, and who it struck.

*I expected as much, yet it is still breathtaking to behold.*

Je-gal Seol-ha was a one-woman army. Simply put, she held more than ten Peak experts in check single-handed.

*To be fair, the Star Iron Collar is a treasure beyond compare—so it is not skill alone.*

Refashioning mere fragments of Star Iron into something so powerful was the work of Baek Cheol. *That blacksmith is truly a genius, always.* When the Blood God Demon Sword shattered, Yang-hui had given the greater share of the pieces to Baek Cheol for study—and in scarcely any time, he had surpassed his own limits. Seeing how metal could absorb energy and image, he had learned to infuse it with a craftsman’s intent. For a warrior, this was as great a leap as reaching the Peak Realm itself.

*Baek Cheol’s skill has strengthened us all immeasurably.*

A master beyond peaks could wield a twig as a sword; for all others, a worthy weapon made all the difference. Baek Cheol’s breakthrough was what gave Yang-hui the means to face so great a host.

*It feels right. Nothing since my return has been a mistake.*

He had saved Je-gal Seol-ha from the terrible fate that would have turned her into the Soul Enchanting Demon Queen and plunged the land into bloodshed; he had gained the favor of Yin Hu. He had enshrined his own Heaven-Covering 108 Swords and the Harmonious Heaven Principle Origin Art as treasured legacies of the Baek Clan, raising his own father to the rank of Peak expert; he had shared vital techniques and the Heavenly Aid Fate-Transforming Formation to make the clan strong. He had rescued Baek Cheol from bondage to underworld gangs—where he was fated to serve as a mere craftsman—and welcomed him as one of their own. Every preparation laid for this day had grown from those choices.

And now.

“Very well. Time to play our final card. Checkmate.”

He sent word to A-du.
—A-du. It is your turn.
—At last! This will be fun!

Had he called A-du forth at the start, the battle might have turned sooner. The creature could hold its own against two or three Peak experts at once. Yet Yang-hui had kept it in reserve, waiting for this exact moment.

*Star Iron grants power: it amplifies the energy and intent placed within it.*

The sword in his hand caught the light of the full moon, its edge burning bright and cold. Unlike any blade he had carried before, it radiated a piercing, living will of its own.

*Let me see this power for myself.*

Three truths led beyond the peak; one was the will made flesh. That power gave form to intention, setting it into motion. *I have only glimpsed it so far—not truly grasped it.* In this life he could not walk that path, yet he understood it clearly in his mind. He knew the way, even if he could not follow it fully.

“Your turn, Hyongsan Sound Blood!”

No answer came—only a gaze filled with killing intent, fixed upon him. He grinned and leaped forward.

“Let us keep the promise I failed to keep before! I will carve you open, nice and clean!”

This was the White Lotus Puresteel Sword, Baek Cheol’s masterpiece, forged around a shard of Star Iron. With it, he could do what he had not yet managed alone: bring forth the power of will made real.

*Behold—the strength of a will given life.*

Sword energy rang out in harmony with the blade’s own resonant hum, cutting through the air like a razor. The long, bitter struggle that had gripped Gangseo was drawing to its close.