The soles of pitch-black leather shoes crunched against the ground. Frost and pine needles shattered beneath each step.A boy clad in a black longcoat ascended the slope, his pace slow and deliberate as he scanned his surroundings. He carried nothing but a single travel sack slung over his shoulder.


    Even in winter, the mountain''s lush greenery stretched endlessly, a testament to its majesty as the tallest peak in the Jinryeong mountain range.


    Jeong Yeon-shin inhaled the cold, crisp air.


    Each exhalation formed a translucent mist, momentarily captured by the sunlight before fading away.


    The beams of light filtered through the trees along the ridge, warm yet sharp, mirroring the fleeting life of a seventeen-year-old prodigy whose fate was sealed at nineteen.


    From the raw energy emanating from the mountain, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the pulse of life. This was no ordinary place—it was a land brimming with extraordinary earth energy.


    Mount Taebaek.


    It had recently become the center of attention in Shaanxi, rapidly gaining fame.


    The scale of the commotion was unparalleled.


    Powerful individuals from across the land had flocked to the mountain, likened in size to an entire nation.


    Unlike Jeong Yeon-shin, these warriors didn’t bother to conceal their auras. The mountain range was blanketed with surging waves of martial energy.


    It was truly a sea of people. Men and women of all ages gathered, their appearances as varied as their backgrounds.


    Some carried great swords strapped to their backs, others had daggers tied to their sleeves or ornate tassels hanging from the hilts of their blades. There were those whose heavy gloves exuded a palpable killing intent, and groups of martial artists dressed uniformly, clearly from prestigious sects.


    Among them were well-trained swordsmen from prominent families and wandering vagabonds willing to sell their martial skills for nothing more than salt or food. sea??h thё n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    One glance at the ragged, predatory air of the latter was enough to tell they were experienced killers.


    The air itself seemed to hum with danger, laced with the metallic scent of weapons and the faint stench of blood. Even those who had come merely chasing rumors of the miraculous herb carried the unmistakable aura of murder.


    The lingering scent of blood—borne from martial energy—clung to Jeong Yeon-shin’s Northern Bright Sword as well.


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