Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Ancient Clan's Martial Arts Genius
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Yuk Jin-yang didn't wait for a reply before snapping the man's arm. The thug strained to hold firm, but his stance crumbled helplessly. A scream soon burst forth.
“Arghhh!”
“Damn it, get him!”
The Black Sword Sect warriors belatedly rushed into the fray. Yuk Jin-yang released the man's arm and drew his Silver Dew Sword. With a single, concise swing, he severed the thug's head and immediately stepped forward with a precise stance.
Moon Stream Subtle Steps. Yuk Jin-yang plunged into their midst like a whirlwind.
Weapons thrust toward him as if they'd been waiting. A burst of light force erupted from his simple swing, sweeping the front and deflecting the blades closing in.
Yuk Jin-yang's assault didn't end with a single strike. He flowed seamlessly into a barrage of thrusts. Heads snapped back, eyes bulging, flying into the air one after another. Sunlight danced along the blade like dew as blood sprayed.
Squelch!
It happened as he thrust his sword. Even with a blade buried in his dantian, one man grinned triumphantly. With bloodied hands, he gripped the Silver Dew Sword's edge—despite the agony it must have caused.
“Got you—hit him now!”
His dying words. The moment Yuk Jin-yang wrenched his blade free, the man's body split in two and collapsed.
Another thug lunged from the side, thinking it an opening, only to choke as his throat was seized.
“P-Please, mercy...”
Yuk Jin-yang snapped his neck without waiting for more.
Thud, clatter.
No sooner had he tossed the limp corpse than urgent footsteps echoed. A ragged group soon filled the alleyway—easily dozens strong.
At their head stood a handsome man. He wore a black hood and gripped a five-foot longsword. It resembled Hainan's signature weapon. Though his aura seemed carefree at first glance, his presence was sharply different—fierce killing intent radiated from him.
Yuk Jin-yang met the man's gaze.
“Are you the Black Sword Sect Leader?”
“You've got an eye for talent, kid. Not bad for someone walking to his own grave.”
The Black Sword Sect Leader smirked and muttered.
Wahaha! His subordinates erupted in forced laughter, clearly trying to seize the initiative.
Shing. The sect leader drew the longsword from its sheath with a metallic scrape. Well-maintained, its mirror-polished blade reflected Yuk Jin-yang's image clearly.
Yuk Jin-yang calmly retorted.
“You look pretty young yourself. We're hardly in a position to trade barbs about age, are we?”
“Fair point.”
The Black Sword Sect Leader grinned wickedly and abruptly aimed his longsword at Yuk Jin-yang. Even in the eaves' shadow, the tip gleamed sharply.
“But you're arrogant. I'll cut you down special—leave you clinging to life in agony.”
“Special?”
“So you suffer long and hard.”
“I'll throw those words right back at you.”
The two lunged simultaneously.
Clanggg!
Their weapons clashed with a thunderous roar. That was the signal. Warriors from both sides charged at their foes.
Blade flashes glittered beneath the narrow alley's eaves. Chaos reigned.
Amid the shouts, Yuk Jin-yang and the Black Sword Sect Leader focused solely on each other. No one dared interfere in their duel, lest they disrupt their concentration.
Clanggg!
A few clashes made it clear. The Black Sword Sect Leader was a cut above the others. He lacked the sloppy chaos typical of unorthodox fighters.
His swordsmanship was calm and refined—enough to lead a sect in the countryside or dominate as a lone master.
But his sword style feels familiar.
The sect leader wielded swift strikes with his left hand. Coincidentally, it was a style Yuk Jin-yang recognized: Hainan martial arts.
Haenam Sect sword techniques obsessed over speed. They compensated for power with velocity. Unlike Central Plains schools that drew profound principles from the blade, Hainan's was straightforward and efficient killing swordplay.
In a way, it mirrored the law-of-the-jungle ethos of the unorthodox sects. Yet the Black Sword Sect Leader's techniques even matched Hainan's forms.
One of two possibilities.
He'd either stolen Hainan arts or learned them imperfectly from someone.
Come to think of it, there was a traitor in Hainan.
Yuk Jin-yang parried a fierce thrust. Even deflected, a slicing blow followed immediately.
The moment he thought he'd read the trajectory, it shifted. A feint.
He twisted aside, switched to a reverse grip, and slashed upward. It grazed the sect leader's throat by a hair's breadth. The man retreated a step, frowning as he touched his neck. A thin line of blood welled up.
The Black Sword Sect Leader demanded,
“Who the hell are you?”
“That's what I want to know. Who taught you that sword style?”
“No name worth sharing with a brat like you!”
The sect leader unleashed a flurry of strikes, faster now. Yuk Jin-yang drew a deep breath.
His qi pulsed with the resonant inhale. He calmed his mind, clearing stray thoughts.
Inner energy surged from his dantian like a torrent through his meridians. Yuk Jin-yang powered his legs and advanced boldly with footwork—faster, lighter.
He gradually invaded the opponent's space. The flustered sect leader's hands grew erratic. His swift strikes lacked proper force.
The essence of Moon Maiden Sword Art lay in concise motions. Using the principle of the later preempt the former, Yuk Jin-yang countered while maintaining leisure. The longer the exchange, the wider the opponent's flaws gaped.
Yuk Jin-yang stepped forward with footwork, evading a strike and closing in exquisitely.
Like a master's brushstroke, he swung with crystalline clarity.
Sunlight flickered on the blade tip. A fierce bolt of lightning swept away the shadows, splintering the dim space into shards. Scattered beams dazzled the eyes.
Splurt!
Blood erupted. A single gash scarred the Black Sword Sect Leader's body—a deep, diagonal slash across his chest, carving into the shoulder blade at its end.
Staggering back, he barely propped himself with his sword. It wasn't a survivable blow. He clung to life, his eyes gradually losing focus.
“Am I facing a freak of nature...”
With his final words, the Black Sword Sect Leader's head drooped.
With their leader down, the Black Sword Sect crumbled swiftly. Most discarded their weapons and fled. A few resisted to the end but were swept away by the Flying Stream Pavilion warriors.
So Yun-un approached with a brief report.
“As expected. Less a sect, more a ragtag band. Each wielded different martial arts.”
“Their leader was odd too. He used Hainan techniques.”
So Yun-un's expression hardened.
“Could it be...?”
Yuk Jin-yang shook his head.
“There was a traitor from Hainan—Azure Swallow Division Leader Bae Ji-hak. Probably his doing.”
“Southern Sea Cloud Sword?”
“You know him?”
“The famed swordsman of Guangdong, tipped for elder status. Then he vanished...”
So Yun-un scratched his head, looking displeased.
“This wasn't an easy mission after all.”
“We won't be the ones to hunt him. Hainan will handle their own punishment. Traitor to the sect, leaking arts freely.”
“Words can jinx you.”
Yuk Jin-yang ignored So Yun-un and headed into the main hall.
Few Black Sword Sect remnants remained. Yuk Jin-yang spared only one, remembering Dang Sang-baek's words.
“Guide us to the people you kidnapped.”
“Th-Then you'll spare me?”
“I'll let you die easy.”
The thug's eyes darted slyly. Not the type to obey words alone. Yuk Jin-yang broke his arm without further talk—no mercy in his strike.
After writhing in pain, the man relented and led them obediently.
They reached a rundown warehouse. Yuk Jin-yang sliced the chained door and flung it open, revealing the interior.
Women huddled inside. They shrank back at the sight of Yuk Jin-yang, drenched in blood. Some even bowed, begging for life.
The misunderstanding cleared quickly.
“I've come to rescue you.”
He proved it by holding up the Black Sword Sect Leader's severed head.
Tension broke; the women sobbed. A few glared at the head, as if ready to spit on it.
“Are you all of them?”
“Yes. They showed no mercy to men from the start. Even women like us got our heads chopped for the slightest offense.”
The eldest-looking woman answered quietly, deep worry etched on her face.
They searched every hall just in case, but found no more. Only loot and grain the thugs had extorted.
Yuk Jin-yang led the group out of the compound. Waiting outside, Dang Sang-baek rushed up panting. He hurried to a girl of about thirteen, checking her condition. Father and daughter embraced, both in tears.
A family's reunion.
Dang Sang-baek cried out, voice breaking,
“Thank you! Truly, thank you!”
The villagers reacted much the same. They first cowered at Yuk Jin-yang and the Flying Stream Pavilion warriors, then gasped in shock upon recognizing the rescued.
A crowd gathered swiftly.
“Ah!”
“You're alive! Alive!”
“Thank heavens—a true immortal has descended.”
Family reunions sparked waves of sobs.
But some villagers approached Yuk Jin-yang.
“Young master, are these all of them?”
“No, right? There must be circumstances...”
Their voices trembled with anxiety.
Yuk Jin-yang shook his head gravely. The questioners paled and collapsed to the ground.
He couldn't just watch. Yuk Jin-yang signaled the Flying Stream Pavilion warriors. They quietly withdrew.
It was at the clinic housing the Hainan warriors.
The old physician was dividing herbs as before. Spotting the group, he flung his scale aside and ran over.
His eyes shook violently upon seeing his granddaughter's face. Stumbling forward, he dropped to one knee and gently stroked her cheek.
“My dear granddaughter, why so thin...”
“Grandfather...”
As they moved to give the grandfather and child space,
“Young master.”
The old physician stopped Yuk Jin-yang and bowed deeply. The profound courtesy flustered him. As he tried to help the man up, the physician gripped his hand, eyes glistening.
“Though old, I'll never forget this grace for the rest of my life.”