Chapter 174
Chapter 174
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 174
Chapter Title: Even Fierce Winds Can't Erase the Smell of Blood (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
An unprecedented cold spell dominated this winter.
It was so severe that people called it the worst in decades. Snow piled up higher than a grown man's height, and temperatures plummeted mercilessly, leading to a rash of deaths by freezing.
Because of this, most people avoided going out and stayed holed up in their homes. The streets, blanketed in snow, were devoid of human presence.
While most of the world shunned the outdoors, there was one group that differed.
They were the martial artists, or those known as denizens of the jianghu.
Last winter, the Murim Alliance and the Demonic Cult clashed across the Central Plains.
The largest of these conflicts occurred in Baek-eun County of Gansu Province. Baek-eun was a major county right next to Lanzhou, the provincial capital.
The Murim Alliance had established a branch there, which was raided by Demonic Cult martial artists.
At the time, the Baek-eun branch had around four hundred martial artists stationed there, but over a thousand from the Demonic Cult launched a sudden assault.
Naturally, the Demonic Cult held the advantage at first. They overwhelmed in both numbers and quality.
Faced with the Demonic Cult's relentless all-out offensive, the Baek-eun branch teetered on the brink of annihilation. It was then that reinforcements arrived from the Kongtong Sect, based in the same province.
The Kongtong Sect dispatched five hundred elites to aid the Baek-eun branch. Thanks to them, the branch barely repelled the Demonic Cult and could breathe a sigh of relief.
But the Demonic Cult did not withdraw easily. After regrouping their forces, they attacked the Baek-eun branch once more.
Casualties mounted rapidly amid the fierce battle. The Baek-eun branch found itself in peril again.
At that moment, reinforcements from the Zhongnan Sect struck the rear of the Demonic Cult forces assaulting the branch, forcing the Cult to retreat after suffering heavy losses.
Though they had repelled the Demonic Cult, the damages to the Murim Alliance, Kongtong Sect, and Zhongnan Sect were immense. Over a thousand martial artists had been killed or wounded.
The shock from the war between the Demonic Cult and Baek-eun reverberated across the land. People trembled in fear, and Gansu Province's economy ground to a halt.
Clashes between the Murim Alliance and Demonic Cult erupted in many other places besides Baek-eun.
The white snow was dyed red with blood, and the groans of wounded martial artists echoed to the heavens.
The jianghu knew this was only the beginning.
The Demonic Cult's leadership, including figures like the Deathless Shili and Mount Sotae, had yet to show themselves. The moment they did would mark the true start of the great righteous-demonic war.
No one could even guess how many more would die then.
Thus, the Central Plains entered an era of chaos.
The Murim Alliance and the sects of the jianghu moved more busily than ever for survival.
Amid this frenzy, one sect took the opposite approach: the Nangong Clan, one of the Five Great Clans.
For some reason, the Nangong Clan sealed its gates, recalling all clan members who had been out, and kept only the bare minimum forces dispatched to the Murim Alliance.
Rumor had it they had suffered massive losses in a clash with the Fist Demon. Their secret organization, the Sword King Squad, had been wiped out, and even Clan Head Nangong Cheonma had sustained severe injuries, forcing the measure.
People were curious about the truth, but the Nangong Clan kept its doors shut tight and offered no answers.
As a result, people assumed the rumors were true.
Attention now turned to the movements of the Fist Demon Damho. Strangely, the very subject of the rumors, Damho, had vanished completely from the jianghu.
Though Damho himself was nowhere to be seen, his name had ascended to the pinnacle of the jianghu.
People began to regard him as equal to—or even above—the sect leaders of the Nine Great Sects. Thus, Damho was becoming a legend of the jianghu.
Shuozhou lay in the north of Shanxi Province. Though smaller than the capital Taiyuan, its well-developed roads and waterways made it a key city in the province.
Yet, despite its strategic importance, Shuozhou was desolate. Bordering Mongolia in the far north and situated on barren land, it was sparsely populated.
That changed last winter when the Murim Alliance established a branch there.
Recognizing Shanxi's importance, the Alliance invested vast resources and manpower.
With goods and people flowing in, money circulated, drawing merchants and courtesans in its wake. Shuozhou transformed overnight into a city of revelry.
Martial artists were a common sight on the streets, tempted by the courtesans in lantern-lit brothels.
The Murim Alliance's Shuozhou branch was located on the outskirts. Its walls towered over tenzhang high, and its perimeter spanned a hundred zhang, resembling a small fortress.
A dozen martial artists guarded the main gate, their eyes and auras anything but ordinary—fiercely vigilant.
News of the Baek-eun branch battle had reached here too, putting the Shuozhou branch on maximum alert.
Tension etched the guards' faces.
A group of martial artists approached the Shuozhou branch from afar. Wrapped head to toe in cloth against the biting wind, the dozen or so figures put them on edge.
"Demonic Cult?"
It was their first thought.
Hands gripped weapons tighter. The one at the rear prepared to sound the emergency horn.
The squad leader shouted at the strangers.
"Who are you? State your identity!"
The approaching martial artists halted. One lowered the cloth covering his face and spoke.
"We are martial artists from the Mount Hua Sect."
"Mount Hua Sect?"
"That's right! I am Unkyung, a first-generation disciple of the Mount Hua Sect."
"Unkyung? Are you truly from the Mount Hua Sect?"
The squad leader's voice softened slightly.
The status of a first-generation disciple from the Mount Hua Sect—one of the Nine Great Sects—was no small matter.
The squad leader, who had memorized the rosters of the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans, knew Unkyung's standing well.
"Junior brother to Great Senior Brother Muyoung, and the Mount Hua Sect's tongue."
It was clear Muyoung would soon become sect leader, and Unkyung would follow as an elder.
A status far beyond the squad leader's reach.
Unkyung tossed the squad leader an item symbolizing his Mount Hua identity.
"It's genuine.
The squad leader let out a low grunt.
He handed it back respectfully.
"Verified. Daoist Unkyung. What brings you to Shuozhou without notice?"
"We came to Shanxi and stopped by hoping for assistance."
"Assistance?"
"I'd like to enter, meet the branch chief, and explain."
"Ah!"
The squad leader flushed, realizing his blunder.
The man was all but confirmed as a future Mount Hua elder. Keeping him waiting outside after verification was a grave discourtesy.
"My apologies. I'll escort you."
"Much obliged!"
Unkyung followed the squad leader into the Shuozhou branch, with the Mount Hua disciples trailing behind.
Unkyung scanned the interior, nodding approvingly. The martial artists everywhere had sharp, lively eyes.
The squad leader guided Unkyung and the Mount Hua martial artists to the guest hall.
"Please wait here."
"Much obliged!"
"Very well!"
The squad leader hurried out, leaving the Mount Hua disciples alone.
"Whew!"
Only then did Unkyung sigh.
At his cue, the Mount Hua disciples unwrapped the cloths from their mouths and noses.
"Phew!"
"Truly brutal. How do people live in a place like this?"
The disciples grumbled.
The extreme cold on the journey here—unlike anything they'd faced at Mount Hua—had been grueling.
As the Mount Hua disciples chatted, the door opened and someone entered.
A slender beauty in instructor's robes, appearing in her early twenties. Unkyung looked puzzled.
By his knowledge, the Shuozhou branch chief was a middle-aged man in his forties.
The woman performed a formal greeting to Unkyung.
"I am Hae Sowol of the Haenam Sect, greeting the noble guest."
"Ah! Greetings, Sowol. I am Unkyung of the Mount Hua Sect."
Unkyung returned the greeting.
The woman before him was one of the Nine Dragons, the jianghu's top rising stars. He'd heard she'd been dispatched to Shanxi last year but hadn't expected her to still be here.
Last summer, Hae Sowol had come to Shuozhou to search for Demonic Cult bases, accompanied by her disciples. They'd roamed northern Shanxi for months.
But they found no bases. The same went for Chaeyeonun and the Baekmun Sect disciples scouring southern Shanxi.
After months of fruitless searching, they planned to return to Alliance headquarters. But when the Alliance decided to establish the Shuozhou branch, things changed.
The Alliance ordered Hae Sowol to remain until the branch stabilized. Thus, she unwillingly spent the winter here.
For Hae Sowol and her Haenam disciples, lifelong residents of warm Haenam, the harsh northern life was no easy feat. Yet, with the Demonic Cult liable to strike anytime, she couldn't refuse for personal reasons.
That was why Hae Sowol was still here.
"Where is the branch chief, leaving you in charge?"
"He's away briefly, so I'm handling duties in his stead."
A wry smile flickered on Hae Sowol's lips.
She'd wasted months here already. The branch chief's incompetence kept dragging her down.
She longed to roam the jianghu freely as a swordswoman, but the world demanded heavy responsibilities from her.
Composing herself, Hae Sowol asked,
"What brings the Mount Hua Sect here unannounced?"
"We seek assistance and have come shamelessly."
"If it's a request from Mount Hua, of course we'll help."
"Does anyone here know of a place called Clear Stream Valley? We must find it, but we're unfamiliar with the local terrain."
"Clear Stream Valley?"
Hae Sowol furrowed her brow.
It sounded familiar.
After racking her brain, she recalled.
"North Ridge Mountain's Clear Stream Valley."
Her eyes lit up.
North Ridge Mountain was a fairly tall peak on Shuozhou's outskirts. She'd heard the small valley on its north side was called Clear Stream Valley.
"You know it?"
"I've heard of it."
"Perfect. Would you guide us there?"
"Guiding you is no trouble, but may I ask why you're seeking Clear Stream Valley?"
"There's someone we're looking for there."
"May I know who?"
"We can't say yet. We're not even certain they're there. But if they are, you'll know soon enough."
"Understood. I'll guide you."
"Thank you, Sowol."
Unkyung bowed politely.
"Let's go right away."
Hae Sowol rose. Cooped up in the branch since the chief's absence, she welcomed the chance to get out.
Once outside, Hae Sowol unleashed her lightness skill. Unkyung and the Mount Hua disciples followed suit.
Clear Stream Valley was hidden in a very secluded spot on North Ridge Mountain. Without a guide, they'd have wandered days.
Hae Sowol and the Mount Hua disciples ascended the valley.
Winter lingered, leaving everything barren, but it promised breathtaking beauty come spring with blooming flowers.
"Clear Stream Valley is like this?"
Even Hae Sowol marveled at the scenery.
A Mount Hua disciple pointed to a sandy beach by the stream and shouted.
"There are signs of people here."
Human footprints littered the sand.
"Here too."
Another disciple found traces.
A low grunt escaped Unkyung.
"Hmm! Is he really here?"
Then—
"Master! Look over there..."
One disciple called out loudly. In the direction he pointed was a fairly open clearing.
A dozen children played there.
"Waaah!"
Their lively voices echoed through the valley. In the center stood an elderly man with a familiar face.
"Martial Uncle?"
Unkyung's voice boomed across the valley. The elder looked up at him.
His eyes shook visibly, even from afar.
"Unkyung?"
"Martial Uncle Hyeonso."
The elder's dharma name was Hyeonso.