Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Stench or Fragrance (1)
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“Crimson Sword Trio?!”
“Yeah.”
Murong Suhyang jumped to her feet.
“Did that guy go by himself? Is that what happened?”
“Suhyang.”
“What do we do? Should we call up the Flower Sword Squad right now?”
“Suhyang.”
“Huh?”
“You can’t go calling him ‘this one’ or ‘that one’ when you’re talking about your brother.”
“Ah...”
“Don’t call him a blockhead or an idiot either. Understand?”
“B-but that’s not what’s important right now.”
She had a point. At least for the moment, this wasn’t the time to correct her manners.
Murong Sujing calmly turned her head toward the Hong Sword Clan.
It was half a shichen’s walk at an ordinary pace, but less than a gak if they ran.
Pure distance-wise, it was about the same as the Ten Sword Sect. Only the direction and path differed.
“Your brother said he’d handle it alone.”
“How’s he supposed to handle it alone? What if something happens? The opponent’s the Crimson Sword Trio! Even a blockhead would know they’re Wuhuan’s top pack of sword ghosts...!”
“...”
“Anyway, that moron’s in danger!”
“Yeah, could be.”
“Then why are we just sitting here? If you don’t trust the Flower Sword Squad, I’ll go myself.”
“And what good would that do?”
“But!”
“Don’t worry about your brother. Get back to training.”
Murong Suhyang stared at her sister in disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom it.
“Sister... why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”
“Acting like what?”
“Did that idiot do something to piss you off?”
“As if.”
“Then why aren’t you going to help him?!”
It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice at her sister. Murong Suhyang didn’t even realize it.
Murong Sujing didn’t so much as blink.
“You think going there—you or me—would actually help? They’re Wuhuan’s top sword ghosts, like you said.”
“But!”
“We’d only get in the way. Worst case, they capture us and turn your brother into a helpless puppet who can’t do a damn thing.”
“...!”
“Is that really what you want?”
Murong Suhyang bit her lip.
It pissed her off, but she wasn’t wrong.
“Still... we should go.”
“Why?”
“He’s a drunken disaster magnet, a loudmouth, a weirdo with a bizarre head on his shoulders, bitchy, creepy, and sometimes so damn infuriating I wanna beat the crap out of him...”
“...”
“But he’s still family.”
Murong Sujing’s gaze softened.
“Right. Don’t forget that. We’re family.”
“Then why!”
“Because I trust Bi-ah.”
“...Huh?”
Murong Sujing turned her head.
Old Man Gwak, who’d been standing off in the distance, bowed his head.
“Old Man Gwak went down to town with a few squad members. Said the vibe wasn’t hostile. Lucky for us, witnesses even mentioned them trading jokes.”
“Oh?!”
“There was some edge to it, sure, but nothing serious is gonna go down.”
“B-but...”
“And it’s too late anyway. Looks like they’ve already headed off toward the Sword Clan with the Trio. No catching up now.”
Murong Suhyang closed her eyes without thinking.
Murong Sujing gazed quietly at her little sister’s face and asked in a low voice.
“Feeling pathetic?”
“...”
“Yeah, not having power... it’s a truly miserable thing. No need to learn it fresh, but damn if today doesn’t hit extra hard.”
“...”
“So train your ass off, day in, day out. Not for Bi-ah or me. For you—so you never feel this pathetic again.”
When Murong Suhyang opened her eyes, her face was hollow, nothing but emptiness.
“That jerk’ll be okay, right?”
“Your brother’s way smarter and more experienced than you give him credit for. Hell, he even crushed the Ten Sword Sect Lord head-on.”
“...”
“Worst case, slipping away in one piece won’t be tough. No way the Clan Lord pulls anything now.”
She said it coolly enough, but the fist hidden in Murong Sujing’s sleeve had gone bone-white, drained of blood.
“...Yeah, I guess.”
“And Bi-ah didn’t go alone.”
“Huh? Who followed him?”
“Yeah.”
Murong Sujing’s eyes drifted to a nearby tree.
As the sun shifted, its shadow tilted long—and the one person who ought to have been standing stock-still in that shade was gone.
* * * ‘Not bad at all.’
Murong Bi mulled over the fight from moments ago as he walked the path.
‘Sure enough, packing on some meat gives your movements real bounce.’
Some folks say a guy skinnier than a beggar can’t bulk up in just days, no matter how much he stuffs himself.
They don’t get the magic of internal energy.
Even without it, certain body types can pile on pounds in a flash—with enough fuel, anyway.
And Murong Bi had flushed out most impurities with blood pills. His Mixed Origin True Qi was flowing strong, too.
On top of that, he’d run mountain endurance drills with this body, gorged on three squares plus high-calorie snacks, and pushed extreme recovery via the Mixed Origin Heart Method.
Would’ve been weirder if he hadn’t gained weight.
‘Means the training’s paying off.’
Rush the bulk, and you wreck your body.
Max speed for muscle and meat, no long-term damage.
Perfect harmony of chow and grind.
‘Now I could push past Red Hare Spear Technique all the way to Dragon Slaughter Spear.’
Dragon Slaughter Spear—full name, the Hundred and Eight Forms Dragon Slaughter Spear Method.
Murong Cheon’s own creation, built on House Murong’s staff and spear foundations, pulling from spear manuals stocked at the Martial Alliance.
Not quite peak first-rate, but it seamlessly bridged staff and spear motions with solid power—an all-purpose powerhouse.
Low qi drain made chaining forms effortless, and its routines stacked up against anything under heaven. In real life, it was the art he’d busted out most often.
Especially on battlefields where you had to conserve stamina and qi—it wiped out enemies by the drove.
‘Anything higher’s still out of reach.’
Sure, flashier, deadlier spear arts existed.
Right now, he could only mimic forms anyway, so Dragon Slaughter Spear actually packed more punch.
‘Not that it’s burden-free.’
Spears count as heavy weapons at base.
Not just gripping with both hands and thrusting—you’ve gotta swing that long rod side to side, spin it, even hurl it sometimes.
Takes iron grip strength, springy power, and stamina like a beast. Got nothing to do with qi depth.
‘Plus, I can’t pull it off as flawlessly as back then.’
The reason was obvious.
‘This body’s not fully mine yet.’
Fine for wild thrashing, but he didn’t feel total mastery.
The higher the art, the less brute force mattered—finesse ruled. Masters shifted techniques with the tiniest twitch of a finger’s power.
Training this young flesh to his old standards? Months more, easy.
‘Nice.’
His chest thumped with excitement.
‘The thrill of growth... been too damn long.’
Bitching about starting from scratch? No way in hell.
Masters climb each rung like snatching stars from the sky. And in his later years, demonic qi addiction had killed any thought of progress.
From rock bottom, retracing old weak spots and stacking anew? Pure bliss.
‘Wish my brats could taste this.’
He could already picture himself shredding foes with Dragon Slaughter Spear.
Fighting spirit surged on instinct.
Grinning wide, lost in fantasies, Murong Bi suddenly glanced at Guwol.
“Urgh.”
Guwol’s legs, bearing Hong In on his back, trembled faintly.
Murong Bi’s face turned ugly in an instant.
“Whining already, you bastard? Comfy ride?”
“N-no, it’s not...”
“Take each step with care, asshole. What’s a healthy prick like you dragging your feet for?”
Normal reaction would be cursing under his breath, but Guwol couldn’t even manage that.
‘F-fucking hell.’
Sssss.
The bone-chilling pressure rolling off his back made his heart hammer like mad.
What the hell was eating him? The guy oozed quiet killing intent as he trailed behind, and every step echoed like thunder in Guwol’s skull.
Worse, he’d snicker or flash a toothy grin now and then. A killer laughing? Straight chills.
Thank god for his internal energy holding off the aura—otherwise, he’d have keeled over from breathing trouble ages ago.
‘Guy’s insane. Beyond insane.’
Orders were orders, though.
Guwol put every ounce of focus into each deliberate step.
“Hey.”
“Y-yes?”
“Turtle? Turns out your squad leader’s just a shell?”
“What...?”
“Carefully—and fast!”
No way he’d push back.
“Yes, sir!”
Guwol marched on with vigor, precision, and top speed.
Tears of humiliation welled up, but the terror drowned it out—sparing him a martial artist’s ultimate trial, at least.
About a gak later.
“Huh? That it?”
“Y-yes.”
Murong Bi let out an involuntary whistle.
“Damn impressive.”
The Murong estate sat on Wuhuan’s outskirts too, giving it that isolated vibe.
Hong Sword Clan was another story.
The walls towered three times higher than his family’s, width pushing five or six times over at a glance.
‘Peanuts next to the Yanling main house, sure...’
Still, scoping a real power player after so long stirred him up.
‘Location’s gold.’
A small river flowed dozens of zhang before the main gate, terrain sloping gently low—attackers screwed.
River doubled as a moat.
Back: decent hill, three or four guard posts atop it. Flanks: thick woods sprawling wide.
Murong Bi was genuinely awed.
‘No natural stronghold, but damn hard to top for a martial clan.’
Truth was, he had zero plans to step foot in Hong Sword Clan.
Not after pounding the clan lord’s precious daughter till she was caked in mud and rain. Caution time—no sense barging into enemy turf.
Future’s a crapshoot, though.
Just in case shit hit the fan into all-out war, might as well clock the layout.
‘Worth the look.’
Weak spots? Nothing jumped out.
A thick greed crept over Murong Bi’s face.
‘Better than our puny estate—a hundred times over. Nah, thousand.’
Sudden urge to relocate.
Location, walls, scale—prime real estate.
“...Urgh.”
He itched to pack bags right then, but the current tenants were the snag.
Murong Bi smacked his lips.
‘Drop it for now.’
This much scouting was plenty.
“Hey, Teacher Gu.”
“Yes!”
“I’m heading out...”
That’s when it hit.
Ziiing.
An ill-boding hum stirred deep in his ear.
Murong Bi’s wistful expression iced over in a heartbeat.
His Brain Gate True Qi was sounding the alarm. Faint still, but sharp and brimming with urgency.
And that cry pointed straight at the Hong Sword Clan.
“...Huh?”