Martial Arts Ain't That Big of a Deal-Chapter 270: Profound Realm (2)

Let’s say there are two empires formed by alliances of various kingdoms: Empire J (Orthodox Faction) and Empire S (Unorthodox Faction).

Right now, J and S have entered a lull after a fierce war.

That doesn’t mean they’ve come to a peace agreement. There’s still an unbridgeable ideological gap between J and S.

In that situation, the Grand Preceptor of Kingdom N—under Empire J—said:

"Ah, you know that Kingdom B in Empire S? The king there is a friend of mine, so maybe don’t mess with them?"

Now, choose the appropriate reaction from the key figures of each nation sitting in that very meeting room with the Grand Preceptor of N.

****

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that. Then let’s leave the Ice Palace alone.”

That was the Emperor speaking.

“If the Ice Palace isn’t exactly an ally but chooses not to get involved in the war... then the only target left is probably Lord of Pacheon.”

That came from Hwangbo Ryung, Head of the Hwangbo Clan.

“No, wait a damn second! How can you trust those Ice Palace bastards? I don’t trust the Black Lotus bastards one damn bit!”

That was Pang Geuk-jin, Head of the Pang Clan in Hebei.

‘Am I the one who's out of touch...?’

Jegal Tong was thrown into deep confusion over the fact that no one seemed to question the idea that the Grand Preceptor of Namgung was friends with the Lord of the Ice Palace.

Of course, Pang Geuk-jin was openly distrustful of the Ice Palace and insisted they should attack it first—

But separate from that, the fact that the Grand Preceptor of Namgung was personally close with the Lord of the Ice Palace didn’t seem to raise any red flags.

‘What the hell is going on?’

In that dizzying sense of logic being turned upside down, Jegal Tong opened his mouth without realizing it.

“Uh, excuse me—”

A small voice rang out in the noisy chamber. But everyone here was in the Transcendence Realm.

There was no way they didn’t hear him. In an instant, the eyes of four Transcendents locked onto Jegal Tong.

‘Ah...!’

The moment their gaze hit him, Jegal Tong realized something.

‘So I was the one who was wrong.’

Maybe there really wasn’t that much difference between the Orthodox and Unorthodox factions after all?

If you think about it, they’re just neighbors with slightly different worldviews.

Neighbors argue sometimes—doesn’t mean they’re fundamentally incompatible.

Jegal Tong gave a faint smile and asked:

“Then did the Heavenly Lord receive some sort of explicit ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) confirmation from the Lord of the Ice Palace that they wouldn’t get involved in the war?”

“Who knows. I never actually asked.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, it’s clear they’re not that interested in the war. The Lord of the Ice Palace just... really enjoys cleaning.”

“...I’m sorry, what?”

“The last time we had drinks, we ended up cleaning together, and while we were at it, we agreed she’d attend my upcoming wedding.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

While Jegal Tong sat there dumbfounded, repeatedly muttering, “Excuse me?” the Emperor chimed in with a smug grin.

“Well, there you have it. I doubt someone who agreed to come as a wedding guest would suddenly jump into a war.”

Hwangbo Ryung responded.

“But won’t it cause a scene on the Orthodox side if the Lord of the Ice Palace shows up at the Namgung Preceptor’s wedding? Those Taoist-wannabes probably won’t like it.”

The Emperor burst into laughter, slamming his hand on the table.

“And what’re they gonna do about it if they don’t like it? And hey, what was your name again—Ryung?”

“...Even you shouldn’t be calling me that, Emperor.”

“Whatever. Anyway, it’s not like they’re pretending to be Taoists. They are Taoists.”

“So what’s your point?”

“No point. Just saying.”

Pang Geuk-jin, who’d been listening to this conversation with his leg twitching in frustration, finally slammed the table hard.

“Enough already! So what the hell are we doing or not doing?!”

Jegal Tong felt like he was losing his mind.

If anyone realized these lunatics rambling like local thugs were actually top-tier martial masters of the heavens, they’d feel the same.

Each of them was a towering figure, carrying unimaginable weight and power...

“Ahem, one moment.”

That’s when the Heavenly Lord, Lee Seo-jun, finally spoke.

Jegal Tong couldn’t help but look to him with hope.

Surely he wasn’t the only one who found this insane. Surely the Heavenly Lord still held onto some kind of rationality.

“But seriously... why are we invading the Black Lotus Sect all of a sudden?”

“Ah...”

“Hmm?”

“N-no, nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Jegal Tong gave up quietly.

****

Seo-jun visited the North Sea Ice Palace and built a bond with Baek Seol-hyang. As he did, a question began to form in his mind.

‘Who exactly... is my target for revenge?’

It’s not like he suddenly had doubts about the concept of revenge.

All that “revenge only leads to emptiness” crap, or “forgiveness is better than vengeance” bullshit? Seo-jun didn’t sympathize with a single word of that nonsense.

Finishing revenge leaves you satisfied and free. Forgiving your family’s murderer doesn’t make you a saint—it makes you a fucking idiot.

‘That said...’

Seo-jun had originally targeted the Black Lotus Sect to avenge Namgung Jincheon.

But now he had met Baek Seol-hyang—the Lord of the North Sea Ice Palace, one of the Seven Black Gates.

Was she really... someone he needed to kill?

‘No.’

Seo-jun could say it with certainty. People called him a lunatic all the time, but not even he had the slightest urge to kill Baek Seol-hyang.

Kill that pitiful woman? Why the hell would he? She’s just a lonely weirdo obsessed with cleaning.

And yet, Baek Seol-hyang was a prominent figure within the Black Lotus Sect. That much was undeniable.

So, the question was inevitable:

Is it really right to wipe out every last person in the Black Lotus Sect?

‘The target of my revenge...’

Those directly responsible were already dead. The Lord of the Qilun Gate, Lord of Pacheon Gate, Lord of the Sword Sect, and the Martial Chief under the Black Lotus Sect.

Three of them had been killed directly by Namgung Jincheon. Seo-jun had taken care of the last one himself.

So who was left?

There was Sama Hyeon, the Grand Strategist who planned it all. Maybe his sub-commanders as well. And then—

‘No. That’s wrong.’

The very premise was flawed.

The Black Lotus Sect and the Martial Alliance were at war. You don’t need a personal grudge to kill the enemy. Even if they’re complete strangers, if killing them protects what’s yours, then you kill them. No hesitation.

But how much is a human life worth?

How do you determine who should die and who shouldn’t?

Is there even such a thing as a “correct” standard for that?

And if the standard changes depending on the person, does that standard even mean anything?

Seo-jun’s rage still hadn’t cooled. Whenever he thought of Namgung Jincheon, it surged up so violently it made his head pound.

The only saving grace was that Jincheon had reunited with his wife and reached the Celestial Realm.

That gave Seo-jun just enough clarity to stop and think.

‘This is making my head explode.’

So, instead of thinking, he just asked:

“But seriously... why are we invading the Black Lotus Sect again?”

Jegal Tong gave him a strange look, but Seo-jun ignored it. Instead, he listened to the Emperor, who chuckled and answered casually:

“Because it sounds fun?”

Then he turned to Hwangbo Ryung.

“I didn’t really plan to invade in the first place.”

Lastly, he looked at Pang Geuk-jin.

“Gotta pay 'em back for what they did! Isn’t that obvious?!”

They each gave completely different answers—none of them uncertain in the slightest.

These were warriors of the Transcendence Realm. They were ancient beasts who had each found their own truth after lifetimes of struggle.

Compared to them, the three years Seo-jun had spent in the martial world felt laughably short.

Time was the ultimate authority. Seo-jun had surpassed it in some ways—but he hadn’t completely conquered it.

He was still a young martial artist not yet thirty. And when it came to finding his own path, he didn’t exactly feel... lost.

“Ahh.”

He found his answer.

****

Seo-jun wrapped up the meeting half-heartedly and stopped the Emperor on his way out.

“Hey.”

“Hm? Well, now that’s a surprise. You’re the one approaching me first?”

Seo-jun got straight to the point, ignoring the Emperor’s smug grin.

“You know anything about the Martial Alliance Leader?”

“The Alliance Leader?”

The Emperor’s expression twisted into something unusually sour.

Seo-jun’s brow twitched. That was surprising. He didn’t think this bastard was even capable of making that face.

“I know the basics. Just the basics.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“Probably in the Alliance Leader’s Hall.”

“The what?”

“Over there.”

The Emperor jerked his chin toward it.

Inside the vast Martial Alliance compound stood a massive building, noticeably larger than the others.

“Huh. That’s been there the whole time?”

Seo-jun stared at it blankly. He hadn’t even noticed it until the Emperor pointed it out.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anyone inside.”

When Seo-jun asked, the Emperor shook his head.

“Don’t bother trying to sense him with your qi. The Alliance Leader... well, you’ll get it once you experience it.”

The Emperor’s face was strange as he shook his head. It wasn’t fear or reverence—more like trying to explain something that defied logic.

“What kind of person is he, anyway?”

“Person?”

The Emperor scoffed.

“I don’t know much, but remember this: the Alliance Leader isn’t human. Well, you and I are already a few steps removed from humanity too, but still...”

The Emperor’s faint golden eyes took on a rare seriousness. Those eyes locked onto Seo-jun.

With a strangely tense expression, he continued.

“That guy’s a real god.”

****

With the meeting concluded and the Black Lotus Sect situation more or less decided, the four Transcendents went their separate ways for now.

They would gather again once a formal date for the operation was set.

‘Four Transcendents invading the Black Lotus Sect...’

Just saying it out loud made Seo-jun dizzy.

Of course, they wouldn’t dare approach anywhere near the area where the Sect Leader herself was. But just imagine four Transcendents charging into the Namgung Clan’s territory.

Even if they somehow held them off, the Namgung Clan would still be left in ruins.

Granted, if they underestimated something and those four ended up dying meaningless deaths, that’d be a catastrophe for their side too, so they’d probably tread carefully...

Still, four Orthodox Transcendents showing up while the Black Lotus Sect was already wobbling? That was nothing short of a disaster.

‘They're gonna have a rough time.’

Not that Seo-jun gave a damn. He clicked his tongue and looked up at the building in front of him.

The Alliance Leader’s Hall.

The Alliance Leader might be inside. Or he might not.

It sounded like some kind of Zen riddle, but there really wasn’t a better way to describe it.

The Alliance Leader was, in every way, a martial artist version of Schrödinger’s Cat.

Right now, Seo-jun’s qi senses were telling him nothing was in there. Not an unnatural emptiness, but the genuine stillness of a vacant building.

Seo-jun trusted his qi sense more than his own five senses. His qi sense saw more than his eyes, heard more than his ears.

But the Emperor had warned him not to rely on qi sense when it came to the Alliance Leader...

‘Maybe he’s just some weak-ass faker?’

Seo-jun scratched his chin and knocked on the front door of the hall.

“Anyone home?”

No response. He reached out and pushed the door. Creak—unlocked. It slid open easily.

Seo-jun stepped inside, heading toward the lone building at the heart of the hall.

As he entered, a strange sensation brushed across his entire body.

He stayed alert and cautiously wandered through the building. Long, twisting hallways sprawled ahead like a labyrinth. He followed his gut through the branching paths—

‘Hm.’

A strange feeling.

When he came to his senses, he was back at the front entrance of the Alliance Leader’s Hall.

He had definitely been walking through the interior of the building.

It was like someone had spliced together footage of his movements and jumped the frame. Or maybe the space itself had shifted.

‘It’s not an illusion or a formation technique.’

If it were anything that used qi, Seo-jun would’ve noticed instantly—god or not.

Then it happened.

—You carry the scent of divine blood.

The sentence carved itself into his mind. Not a voice—just a thought that appeared out of nowhere.

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Seo-jun’s expression shifted subtly.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

—When divine blood grows too dense, the boundary between the lower world and the Celestial Realm begins to blur.

Seo-jun silently stared at the Alliance Leader’s Hall. His brow twitched.

As he stood there wordlessly, he felt something—or someone—watching him.

—Curious. For a human, the aura of your soul is faint. Is your body held together by qi instead?

An overwhelming sensation crashed over him, and his vision flipped inside out.

In the blink of an eye, Seo-jun found himself inside a massive chamber.

The room was pitch black. But the Transcendence Realm’s vision pierced the darkness.

An empty room. And yet, one corner felt wrong. Out of place.

Seo-jun tilted his head slightly.

“More importantly—what exactly are you planning to do with my divine blood?”

—If possible, it must be removed.

The sentence etched into his mind was unmistakable. It wasn’t a spoken word. It was pure will made manifest. The Alliance Leader had sent his intent, and Seo-jun’s brain had formed the sentence on its own.

“Wow.”

Seo-jun raised his hand.

A massive wave of qi surged up in his palm.

“What a crazy bastard. Manners much?”