## Ch-120.
—
There was a group walking along a snow-covered mountain path.
To be precise, not all of them were walking.
A woman with snow-white hair pinned up by a blue hairpin and thick fur draped over her shoulders left no footprints upon the freshly piled snow.
Her feet hovered slightly above the ground. A technique far beyond the realm of “treading snow without a trace.” For her, it was as natural as breathing.
White Silver Martial Queen.
One of the supreme masters possessed by the Yeonri family, one of the Five Great Clans. Among the Martial Zeniths, she was regarded as belonging to the upper ranks—White Silver Martial Queen Yeonri Sang-ah.
Ascending the mountain with her hands clasped behind her back, Yeonri Sang-ah lifted her gaze upward.
<Yicheon Sword Sect>
Her eyes cooled as they settled upon the plaque bearing the bold calligraphy.
For generations, the Yeonri family and the Yicheon Sword Sect had been allies, and the current Sect Leader, Hundred Swords Gongsun Myeong, was her sworn younger brother.
Not only in name—they were as close as true siblings.
Yet this visit was not to see her sworn brother, nor to further strengthen the alliance.
“We’re almost there.”
*If I can meet her and receive a baptism… it will be a good experience.*
Even the head of the Hwangbo family, who had once received baptism in his youth, had encouraged his son’s bold decision.
*Cloud Dragon…*
What made Hwangbo Jincheol’s heart pound was not merely the presence of the Calamity Saint.
He had heard so many rumors about the Cloud Dragon that his ears were nearly calloused.
*Just how strong is he?*
It was said that, like Sword Dragon, he had reached the Fifth Rank at twenty-two.
Hwangbo Jincheol himself had reached the Fifth Rank at twenty-five, and at that time, the world had declared:
The next generation’s leaders would be the Tyrant Dragon of the Hwangbo family and the True Dragon of the Dancheon Blade Sect. One day, they would divide the martial world between the Orthodox Heaven Alliance and the Black Dragon Society.
But now, no one said such things.
Barely a year had passed, and public opinion had overturned.
The admiration and expectation once focused upon Tyrant Dragon and True Dragon had shifted to Sword Dragon and Cloud Dragon.
It stung his pride. It stirred his competitive spirit.
Youth alone did not determine a martial artist’s level.
*The world does not know.*
Hwangbo Jincheol clenched his fists.
It was understandable that the world praised young geniuses. After all, the dragons of this generation had never properly clashed with one another.
*Cloud Dragon may have defeated Sword Dragon in a spar—but that Sword Dragon has never faced me, Hwangbo Jincheol.*
Before Cloud Dragon appeared, the world had proclaimed Orsia’s Sword Dragon to be the foremost among dragons.
That evaluation was reasonable. Sword Dragon, who had learned the blade from the Sword Emperor since childhood and reached the Fifth Rank at twenty-two. By background and talent alone, he could be called the foremost.
But a martial artist’s level is not decided by youth or talent.
It is decided by skill.
Hwangbo Jincheol harbored grand ambitions.
*I will prove that I am the foremost among dragons.*
He had not yet met True Dragon either, but if he were to defeat Cloud Dragon and Sword Dragon in sparring, the world would recognize that Tyrant Dragon was the true dragon among dragons.
“Are you coming?”
As he steeled his resolve to become the dragon of dragons, a cold voice sounded beside him.
Snow Maiden Yeonri Eunha.
Though the same age as Hwangbo Jincheol, her hair was entirely white, and her attire resembled Yeonri Sang-ah’s.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, looking him up and down.
“I asked if you’re coming.”
His steps had halted while he solidified his resolve.
“Leave him. It looks like Oppa has gone into his own little world again. Let’s just go ahead without him, Unni.”
As if waiting for the chance, the young woman behind her linked arms with Yeonri Eunha. It was Sky Sword Flower Namgung Yeonbi, whose face still held traces of youthful innocence.
“The snow’s getting heavier, and I want to go back and rest soon. Don’t you, Unni?”
Namgung Yeonbi was of the direct line of the Namgung family head, and at the same time a lay disciple of the Yicheon Sword Sect.
As the youngest daughter, there was no chance she would inherit the Namgung family, so she had long since been sent as a lay disciple to Yicheon.
“I forgot to buy the gifts they asked for. They won’t scold me for that, right? If Senior Brothers and Sisters try to, you’ll protect me, right? Right?”
Each time Namgung Yeonbi chattered on, Yeonri Eunha’s eyes grew colder.
As her gaze slowly shifted toward the arm clinging to her, Namgung Yeonbi naturally let go and cast a sidelong glance at Hwangbo Jincheol.
“How long are you going to stand there, Oppa? Let’s hurry. White Silver Martial Queen is waiting!”
“…Ah. My apologies.”
In truth, the White Silver Martial Queen was not watching her disciples and juniors.
Her chilled gaze was fixed upon the plaque of the Yicheon Sword Sect—and beyond its gates.
—
—
“It has been a while, Noona.”
“You seem well, Myeong-ah.”
At present, only Yeonri Sang-ah, his sworn elder sister, could address Sect Leader Gongsun Myeong by his given name so familiarly.
Studying his eyes—deeper than when she had last seen him—she continued:
“It seems you have made progress.”
“I am honored you can tell.”
“My eyes are not dim. It should have been you, not those suspicious and unpleasant Four Disasters, who placed your name among the Martial Zeniths.”
Displeasure naturally surfaced on her face at the mention of the Four Disasters.
“I hear you have been sparring often with the Calamity Saint. It seems that has aided your progress.”
In recent months, Gongsun Myeong’s advancement had come from weekly spars with Lorellia—duels nearly akin to life-and-death struggles.
In the current martial world, how many could withstand him at full strength without suffering injury?
Among that very small number, none would willingly remain within one’s sect and spar joyfully time and again.
The higher one’s Rank, the harder it became to repeat such experiences. Having faced a wall and needed a catalyst, Gongsun Myeong was now steadily tearing it down.
“Yes. Without the Calamity Saint’s help, I might have wandered at this level for several more years.”
“If you so desperately required assistance, you could have asked me.”
“Haha… I appreciate the sentiment, but our respective positions are what they are.”
“And sparring with the Calamity Saint is acceptable?”
“She belongs to neither clan nor sect, and is notoriously elusive.”
“Hmph. Or is it that you think my strength inferior to the Calamity Saint’s?”
“Please don’t say such things, Noona.”
“Enough. It is true I once lost to her. But now would be different.”
*So that is your purpose.*
Suppressing a bitter smile, Gongsun Myeong glanced behind her.
There stood Yeonri Eunha, Hwangbo Jincheol, and Namgung Yeonbi, who had already finished their greetings.
*So you did not come merely to protect the juniors.*
In recent months, ominous incidents had plagued the martial world.
Two sects under the Orthodox Heaven Alliance had been wiped out—not large ones, but annihilated nonetheless. The Black Dragon Society had suffered similar losses.
Elsewhere, several renowned martial artists had been found dead—or had vanished without a trace.
If such events had occurred only in the Eastern Continent, suspicion would first fall upon the Demonic Cult.
But according to intelligence, similar ominous events were occurring on the Western Continent as well.
Something was happening.
“So then, where is the Calamity Saint?”
“She is currently at Sword Mountain Peak.”
Though the Calamity Saint and the Three Heroes still resided at the Pointed Sword Pavilion, their place of training had changed.
That meant their training had grown too violent and ferocious to be conducted within the sect grounds.
Leaving the building, Yeonri Sang-ah clasped her hands behind her back and rose into the sky, turning her head.
The slightly lower mountain over there—that was Sword Mountain Peak.
—Krrrrrrumble…
The peak trembled lightly, and then a savage wave of cascading snow swept down from the summit. An avalanche.
Yeonri Sang-ah watched it for a moment, then spoke with an incredulous expression.
“What madness is this…?”
As a Martial Zenith, Yeonri Sang-ah could see what was happening there.
That was no natural avalanche. Just as one might shake a snow-laden tree to make it shed its burden, the entire peak had been shaken to artificially trigger the slide.
And three young people were stopping that avalanche.
Throwing punches, swinging swords, hurling daggers. Leaping to change positions. Struggling desperately not to be swallowed by the torrent, defying a calamity where violence and nature had fused into a heavenly disaster.
What on earth was that? Why were they doing such a thing? Did they not value their lives?
As she stared blankly at Sword Mountain Peak, Yeonri Sang-ah’s brow twitched.
The avalanche alone would be difficult enough for them to withstand at that level—yet within the white torrent lurked vicious attacks.
The Calamity Saint.
That mad priest was not merely triggering the avalanche—she was moving within it herself, attacking the Three Heroes directly.
“Is she trying to kill them…?”
She had heard it was training, but no matter how she looked at it, this was beyond training. Even now, Sword Dragon—kicked by the Calamity Saint—was being swept away in the avalanche.
“Master?”
Below, Yeonri Eunha tilted her head.
Yeonri Sang-ah composed her expression and stirred her internal energy. Hwangbo Jincheol and Yeonri Eunha’s bodies lifted into the air and flew up beside her.
“We cannot walk there. We’ll fly.”
“M-Me too!”
Namgung Yeonbi, arriving late, called out hurriedly. She straightened her clothes, brushed the snow from her hair, and smiled brightly.
“I want to greet her as well!”
It made no difference to lift one more person. Without a word, Yeonri Sang-ah raised Namgung Yeonbi into the air as well.
—
—
“What in the world…”
Upon arriving at Sword Mountain Peak, Yeonri Sang-ah could not finish her sentence.
The vicious avalanche had stopped.
In the deep snowfield, a single leg stuck up forlornly—its sole facing the sky.
Startled, Yeonri Sang-ah reached out her hand toward it, intending to rescue whoever was buried.
Just as her intangible qi was about to yank the leg out like a radish—
—Pwahk!
An interfering force scattered her invisible qi. Yeonri Sang-ah flinched and turned her head.
“It has been a while!”
In broad daylight, the Calamity Saint floated in the air. Lorellia curved her red eyes in a bright smile as she greeted her—but Yeonri Sang-ah could not smile.
“I-I greet the Calamity Saint. I am—”
“White Silver Martial Queen, was today the day of your arrival?”
Hwangbo Jincheol tried to introduce himself with a moved expression, but Lorellia did not even pretend to listen, staring directly at Yeonri Sang-ah.
“Why did you stop me?”
It was true they had not met in a while—but Yeonri Sang-ah did not feel inclined toward pleasantries. Glancing at the leg still buried in snow, she spoke.
“Were you truly intending to kill them?”
“What are you saying, suddenly arriving like this?”
“That disaster was not something children could endure.”
Nearby, only that one leg was visible. Widening her gaze, she spotted the other two. One was completely buried beneath the snow; the other hung limp over a tree branch like laundry.
“What sin have they committed to deserve such horrific torture?”
“Torture?! You are gravely mistaken!”
Lorellia waved her hands in alarm.
“This is merely training!”
“Training? This madness is training?”
“Yes, indeed! If one aims for the transcendent realm, one must surpass the impossible! White Silver Martial Queen, did you not experience such things yourself when you rose to that realm?”
“I… at that stage, did not attempt the madness of stopping an avalanche with my bare body.”
“Perhaps that is why you turned out as you did!”
At the bright smile accompanying that answer, a vein pulsed on Yeonri Sang-ah’s forehead.
Hwaaaaaa—!
The surrounding air froze. White frost scattered in every direction. Even the snowflakes falling from the sky froze solid and dropped with heavy thuds.
“Your manner of speech may have changed slightly, but your attitude remains as insolent as ever.”
“Why are you angry? Did I say something strange?”
Was she truly unaware? That woman had never been sane.
Yeonri Sang-ah chose not to argue further.
—Kwoong!
Space split open, and a crescent-bladed guandao with a blue edge stood upright in the snow.
“To repay the humiliation of the past—”
“Not now!”
Before she could finish, Lorellia’s expression hardened as she cut her off sharply.
“It is not over yet!”
“What…?”
Not over? What was not over?
Exasperated, Yeonri Sang-ah looked around.
The artificially triggered avalanche had been halted by Lorellia’s Intent. The Three Heroes were scattered in different places, unconscious.
What room was left in this madness—training or torture, whatever it was?
“Puhuh.”
The solitary leg lowered, and from within the snow, a black-haired young man rose.
“Ah, shit…”
He tried to stand but swayed heavily. His left leg, which had been outside the snow, had rotated half a turn below the knee.
Yet instead of screaming, he cursed—his face twisted more in irritation than pain.
Crack!
The half-rotated leg snapped back into its original direction. It was not true healing—the leg still would not function properly. But he could stand, and the disorientation lessened.
Gripping his stiff leg with internal energy, the young man straightened and looked toward Lorellia.
“Cloud Dragon…?”
With his shaggy black hair, he could only be Cloud Dragon Yuri.
Stunned by such brutish self-treatment, Yeonri Sang-ah muttered—then Yuri glanced her way.
“Are you White Silver Martial Queen?”
“…Yes. I am Yeonri Sang-ah.”
“I did not know today was your arrival. I am Cloud Dragon Yuri.”
The greeting was far too casual for someone addressing the White Silver Martial Queen. Yuri did not wait for a reply; he kicked off the snow with his good right foot.
A red streak cut across the white world.
In a single bound, Yuri reached Lorellia and threw a punch.
Yeonri Sang-ah stood there, one hand resting on the shaft of her guandao, mouth agape.
He had just regained consciousness after being buried in snow, one leg barely usable—yet he was charging the Calamity Saint. It did not look sane.
*What is this?*
Her surprise slowly turned into shock.
*Why is he fighting so well?*
Though it seemed Lorellia was holding back, he was evading her, deflecting her strikes, even attempting counterattacks. Even when struck, he did not fall—regaining balance midair and leaping about.
As she watched in stunned silence, the other two, who had been unconscious elsewhere, came to.
Haryeong, who had been draped over a branch, rubbed her aching ribs and torso before spitting blood.
She gave Yeonri Sang-ah a brief nod, then pulled hidden weapons from subspace and attacked Lorellia.
Estor, dragging his feet through the snow, also bowed once to Yeonri Sang-ah and drew his sword. The faint light coating the blade instantly flared into a radiant sword.
“……”
Yeonri Sang-ah removed her hand from the guandao and stood blankly, watching as the Three Heroes and the Calamity Saint clashed in a tangled battle.
