Chapter 161
Chapter 161
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 161
Chapter Title: Shaanxi's Plum Blossoms Do Not Yield
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The plum blossoms of Shaanxi never yield.
This saying held true not only in Shaanxi Province but across the entirety of the Central Plains.
How exquisitely beautiful a plum blossom could one produce?
The Mount Hua Sect disciples devoted their lives to training, using that as the measure of their skill.
Because of this, everyone held high expectations.
They anticipated the flawless plum blossoms that the elder of Mount Hua, now on the sparring platform, would bloom.
And Sangseo fulfilled those expectations perfectly, unfurling a brilliant bouquet of plum blossoms in full splendor.
'So this is what an elder of Mount Hua is like.'
Awe.
The true essence of Mount Hua, something one might not witness even once in a lifetime, was awe incarnate.
But soon enough, they felt despair as fellow swordsmen at the vast gap in enlightenment between them.
Even if they honed their swordsmanship until death, could they ever reach that realm?
The thought that immediately filled their minds was that it was utterly impossible.
It was far too dreamlike, akin to grasping at the clouds.
'The sword of Mount Hua stands far too high.'
Thus, rather than igniting their will to gain enlightenment by witnessing it, the people simply marveled at it as if it were someone else's affair, utterly unrelated to them.
Forgetting for a moment that this was a sparring match.
But such sentiments did not last long.
"......Huh?"
It split.
The plum blossoms.
And in a cruelly calm and gruesome manner at that.
Every single plum blossom that Sangseo had bloomed split perfectly in half without exception, fluttering weakly to the ground.
In the face of this unbelievable sight, people blinked or rubbed their eyes, staring again.
Yet the scene remained unchanged.
The plum blossoms still rained down, cleaved in two.
"This is..."
"What in the world..."
The immense shock left the people speechless.
Their gazes, unable to form words, soon converged on one spot.
On Hyeok Mulin, standing tall with an impassive face.
Did he even realize it?
How monumental his feat was.
'Snapping the plum blossoms of Mount Hua.'
It was the dream every swordsman in Shaanxi yearned for but could never achieve.
Yet here was someone accomplishing it effortlessly.
Hyeok Mulin simply stood there unmoving, but even that sight sent chills racing across the onlookers' skin.
The worry and concern mixed in their eyes as they beheld him had, before they knew it, transformed into admiration.
"Shall we continue?"
Sangseo fell silent at Hyeok Mulin's words.
He gazed at his sword blade for a moment, then let out a breath and spoke.
"I yield."
Sangseo cleanly admitted defeat right there on the spot.
The victor and vanquished had been decided.
And so clearly that even a child could see it.
Yet refusing to acknowledge it here would only make him look ugly.
Unable to further tarnish Mount Hua's name, he trudged down from the sparring platform.
But the people could not cheer for Hyeok Mulin freely.
Mount Hua had lost the match, but their authority in Shaanxi remained unchanged.
Of course, Mount Hua wouldn't care much even if they did cheer, but for those always in a position to watch their step, it was hard to act rashly.
As the crowd glanced around cautiously, biding their time.
Clap clap clap clap—
Wonam, the elder of Mount Jongnam, began applauding.
The people looked at him briefly before turning back, and one by one, they joined in clapping.
The growing sound soon swelled into thunderous applause, enveloping the vast estate and echoing into the distance.
After the spar between Sangseo and Hyeok Mulin, the estate's atmosphere grew quite chaotic.
Sangseo left early right after his defeat, and Hyeok Mulin vanished not long after.
This naturally led to the gathering winding down.
Some stayed to continue the banquet and revelry, but many returned to their lodgings in the estate or sought rest in their own ways.
At that moment, beneath the western wall of the estate—far enough from the courtyard to avoid prying eyes—a young man glanced around warily before slowly curving his lips into a smile.
He whispered intimately with someone outside the wall, and after receiving instructions, he nodded.
Then he turned and headed back toward the courtyard.
'That was close. The plan nearly got delayed.'
The flow of Shaanxi—and on a larger scale, the waves between the orthodox sects—was set to crest today with a massive upheaval.
But the sudden prolongation of the spar had nearly forced a postponement, though they had just barely made it in time.
'It's about to start soon, so I should head ahead and prepare...'
At that instant, his footsteps halted.
His gaze fixed straight ahead.
Someone stood quietly blocking the path to the courtyard.
"You..."
This was a figure he couldn't possibly not recognize.
The man who had drawn all eyes at this Shaanxi Sword Assembly today.
Hyeok Mulin.
He was the one barring the way.
"What business do you have?"
He posed the question, but Hyeok Mulin merely stared in silence.
As the man furrowed his brow to speak again, Hyeok Mulin parted his lips.
"What is your name?"
Stumbling at the abrupt query, he soon replied.
"I am Zhu Wengong, the young lord of the Muyang Zhu Clan."
"Muyang Zhu Clan."
Hyeok Mulin murmured as he drew something from his bosom.
"Strange."
He pulled out a bloodstained nameplate and tossed it at the young man's feet.
"The young lords of the Muyang Zhu Clan were all wiped out on the way to Shanyang."
"......!"
Zhu Wengong's pupils dilated upon seeing the nameplate that had fallen before him.
Hyeok Mulin said to him.
"Sent by the Four Black Alliances?"
"......"
At those words, the young man's face grew icily cold.
No wonder.
From the moment Hyeok Mulin had blocked his path, an inexplicable unease had gnawed at him.
Hyeok Mulin's tone was questioning, but the conviction within was unmistakable.
Thus, he surged forward in an instant, opting for a surprise attack instead of a reply.
His opponent was a master who had bested a Mount Hua elder.
Now, in this moment of carelessness, his vulnerabilities would be most exposed...
Krunch.
The moment he closed in right up to Hyeok Mulin's nose, Hyeok Mulin casually twisted his neck and withdrew his hand.
Thud.
The young man's body went limp, collapsing to the ground.
Hyeok Mulin gazed down at the corpse.
"I had no intention of meddling."
The bloody clash between orthodox sects at the Shaanxi Sword Assembly.
He knew of it but had no plans to intervene.
But meeting Geomhak changed his mind.
'He is a man worth saving.'
In his previous life, Geomhak had not died in the battle here.
But the circumstances now differed from then.
He had taken down Sangseo in the spar, and Danri Hyang had felled the Plum Blossom Sword Dragon.
What changes these might bring to the future was unknowable.
Of course, he could simply patrol Geomhak's surroundings and aid him if danger arose.
'Better to take the initiative.'
Waiting passively for them to come did not suit Hyeok Mulin's temperament.
"Danri Hyang."
"Yes, Cult Leader."
At Hyeok Mulin's call, Danri Hyang appeared.
"Guard Geomhak. Eliminate anyone suspicious, regardless of orthodox or unorthodox affiliation."
"Understood."
Danri Hyang moved without a moment's hesitation upon receiving the order.
After he departed, Hyeok Mulin, left alone, smirked faintly.
"They've come in droves, relentlessly."
At the alleyway.
On the rooftops.
Under the eaves.
Along the walls.
Shadows emerged from all directions, sharp killing intent bared as they surrounded Hyeok Mulin.
Yet he showed no trace of worry at the threat.
Instead, standing with hands clasped behind his back, he slowly spoke.
"Black Night."
In that instant, Hyeok Mulin's shadow rippled.
To it, he issued a command in a sunken tone.
"Clean them up."
Beneath a quiet eave.
A middle-aged man with wrinkles creasing his face sat silently, lost in thought.
It had been a day that could only be called a utter disaster.
Not content with the Plum Blossom Sword Dragon's defeat, he himself had fallen as well.
He hadn't anticipated even the slightest chance of such events unfolding here.
"To lose to a swordsman, no less."
Broken Sword Peerless.
It was Sangseo's moniker, meaning he would never lose to one who wielded a sword.
True to it, the number of defeats to sword-wielders on the battlefield could be counted on one hand.
After his early days as a junior disciple before full bloom, he had never suffered a single loss.
Yet today, that legendary record shattered.
To a man he had seen for the first time.
"I can't even flaunt my moniker anywhere now."
With his title of Broken Sword Peerless rendered meaningless, he let out a deep sigh.
He lowered his head and muttered.
"Do I truly look that ridiculous?"
Thud thud.
"For these vermin to reveal themselves without even hiding their presence."
Masked figures slinked into view around the eave.
Their blatant killing intent made their purpose crystal clear to anyone.
Sangseo rose slowly, facing them as he asked.
"Are you from the unorthodox sects?"
But they offered no words, maintaining silence.
Instead, they moved their feet.
Sangseo swung his sword horizontally at the masked assailants charging toward him.
Slash!
But not all were caught by the blade's tip.
Four out of ten died, but the rest evaded with nimble movements, closing in for close-quarters combat.
"......!"
Sangseo retracted his sword and exchanged blows with them.
In the fight, he discerned their origins.
The vicious greed in every technique made it unmistakable.
'The Four Black Alliances...!'
Did they truly crave war!?
He had underestimated them at first, but their skills surpassed his expectations.
There were many of them, including masters not easily dispatched, and as time passed, he was gradually pushed back.
Leaving aside the enemy's forces, the primary reason Sangseo was yielding ground to these masked foes was something else.
To secure a perfect victory in the prior spar, he had expended half his internal energy to bloom those plum blossoms, and it was taking a heavy toll.
The thought brought a figure flashing through his mind.
'No way...!'
His face hardened as he recalled Hyeok Mulin.
'I've been had.'
It was surely to sap the strength of Shaanxi Sword Assembly's greatest force—himself—that the man had appeared.
Whether the Danri Clan had been duped or betrayed the orthodox sects, he couldn't say, but the Four Black Alliances lurked behind him, that much was certain.
Fuming at being deceived, he ground his teeth.
He could accept defeat to an orthodox swordsman, but to lose his final bout to an unorthodox one?
Realizing it now was of no use.
'No one will survive from here.'
Sangseo slashed and slashed at the enemies.
But their numbers didn't dwindle; they only grew.
More masked figures kept arriving as reinforcements, endlessly replenishing their ranks.
Moreover, screams and clashes of metal echoed from various parts of the estate, confirming he wasn't the only one ambushed.
Everyone was under individual assault.
In a situation where even safeguarding oneself was a struggle, who could come to aid?
Not even he, an elder of Mount Hua, could hold out easily.
Slash!
He couldn't block every incoming attack forever.
Thus, Sangseo's robes tore, and blood seeped from wounds across his body.
At that moment.
Cough!
He suddenly spat blood, his body stiffening.
As Sangseo slowly turned his head, he saw a masked figure from behind had stabbed a dagger into his side.
His body froze as if his pressure points had been struck, utterly immobile.
Only his face could move.
Sensing a presence from the front, he shifted his gaze again.
A masked swordsman approached from straight ahead, radiating ferocious killing intent.
Coming to a halt before Sangseo, he tapped his sword on his shoulder.
Sangseo stared intently at him and spoke.
"You lot will one day pay the fitting price for this."
But the man showed no reaction.
He merely raised his sword high overhead.
'Is this the end?'
Resigned, Sangseo slowly closed his eyes.
For Broken Sword Peerless to meet his end by the sword.
"What an utterly ridiculous affair."
Whoosh!
As he murmured, the foe swung his sword diagonally downward.
Yet just before it reached Sangseo's nape.
The sword halted.
Right at his neck.
"......?"
As the blade failed to move, Sangseo slowly opened his eyes, only to see a horizontal gash appear across the masked man's throat.
It tore open at an angle, and his head slid off as if greased.
Plop.
Gazing at the fallen head, Sangseo's eyes slowly lifted upward.
Behind the headless corpse stood a man, the sunlight at his back so blinding it hurt the eyes despite the evening hour.
Recognizing the face, Sangseo's lips parted slowly.
"Why are you..."
On the verge of death, the benefactor who saved Sangseo's life.
It was none other than Hyeok Mulin.