Chapter 63
Chapter 63
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Shandong Taian Mount Tai Sect (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Mid-twenties? He seemed about that age.
I spotted him in the quarters where the lowest of the Mount Tai Sect's guests bunked together.
A place where nearly thirty men crammed in.
Most martial artists spend the bulk of their time immersed in training anyway.
So their lodging was just a spot to crash. Nothing more than shelter from dew and wind.
The guy holed up there looked utterly unremarkable.
Just another dime-a-dozen nobody. Shabby martial robe, a mediocre sword.
Shaggy hair, plain-as-dirt face. Though he was pretty tall, at least.
The reason I took an interest in him was that he possessed a Heavenly Martial Body.
A Heavenly Martial Body. The perfect physique for mastering martial arts.
Equivalent to being born already having undergone Bone Transformation and Marrow Shedding.
Cultivating internal arts would build his energy far faster than others. Any technique he'd pick up in a flash and achieve mastery.
Yet no one around him—not even himself—had any clue he had one.
His internal energy was pitiful. From his gait and movements, his martial skills didn't look impressive either.
China, alright.
They say Olympic medalists are out plowing fields, world-record breakers pulling weeds.
A Heavenly Martial Body wasting away as a lowly sect guest like this? Unbelievable.
What a shame.
His muscles and bones were top-notch. Wonderfully so, to the point it was baffling why he'd only grown this much.
Probably not from any prestigious sect.
The arts and methods he could access must've been second-rate. His teachers likely nothing special either.
Maybe they just thought, "Huh, sturdy build..." and left it at that, oblivious to the Heavenly Martial Body.
That's why, while keeping tabs on the Mount Tai Sect, I'd sneak peeks at what he was up to now and then.
And two days later, sure enough, the sect rounded up people for a subjugation raid against some evil riffraff.
After the Righteous-Demonic-Evil Great War, the righteous factions and black path evil sects generally avoided clashing.
They'd burned each other to the ground spectacularly. So afterward, they were cautious even of stray sparks.
Restraint made sense. They needed to focus on rebuilding their forces.
Above all, there weren't many sparks to ignite real conflicts anyway.
With so many righteous and evil sects wiped out or crippled, territories lay vacant.
Even nobodies could expand freely without overlapping much.
But not the Mount Tai Sect.
The new supreme righteous sect. They operated on a different level of expansion.
Recklessly aggressive growth, to the point of madness.
Hence the clashes.
Like, "You dare block the great Mount Tai Sect's path?"
Frankly, it made sense.
The Mount Tai Sect had to grow like crazy.
This was their shot. The entire murim power structure had flipped.
Grab territory now or lose it forever.
Once the old righteous sects—those nearly sealed or exterminated—recovered, the Mount Tai Sect would get pushed out.
They'd sat out the Great War, after all.
So this subjugation was a show of force.
A flex of their might under a flimsy pretext.
Plus, it trimmed the guest rolls.
You couldn't squander elite disciples they'd scouted and poured resources into.
So they'd throw guests at the enemy to blunt their edge, then let sect elites swoop in for the spoils.
The target was the Pajeong Sect, a black path evil faction in the same Shandong Province.
The pretext? Laughably thin.
The Pajeong Sect had long opposed the Hwangbo Clan.
Pre-Great War, they were just thugs crushed under the Hwangbo heel.
But with the clan's elites decimated in the war, the balance shifted.
The long-oppressed Pajeong Sect wasn't about to let that slide.
They chipped away, steadily eroding the Hwangbo base.
The Hwangbo Clan couldn't fight back effectively.
That was a clan's weakness.
Sects could rally disciples under their banner, even after near-annihilation.
Twelve years post-war, those recruits were finally shaping up.
Clans were different. Every member was family blood.
No matter how you trained the kids, numbers stayed limited.
Righteous guests were picky too.
They weighed attachments carefully.
Hence the flock to Mount Tai Sect.
Sticking with faded clans or near-sealed sects offered little gain.
Sure, some opportunists eyed those gaps. But not many.
The Hwangbo Clan faced the same bind.
Unreplaced elites. Short-staffed. Shrinking guests.
Three years back, they'd witnessed disaster firsthand.
The Namgung Clan's fall—the sword house's ruin.
No guarantee they weren't next.
Extermination talk, once unthinkable even in jest, now lodged in their throats.
So they'd begged Mount Tai Sect for aid.
Handing over their Shandong influence in the process.
A power transfer.
From Hwangbo Clan to Mount Tai Sect.
Must've galled the Hwangbos.
But better than extinction. No contest.
Thus the Mount Tai Sect marched gaily to smash Pajeong Sect.
How sweet—swiping influence from a heavyweight like Hwangbo.
Plus the righteous pretext of aiding fellow good guys.
Time to flaunt their prestige.
Cull guests, give elites battle experience.
All profit. No reason not to go.
The Heavenly Martial Body guy, as a sect guest, naturally joined the subjugation.
Duty called. Skipping meant shirking guest responsibilities.
Join or walk away on your own.
Though bailing made you toxic elsewhere—broken faith.
So I tagged along too.
Not really my scene, honestly.
Simple reason: curiosity about the Heavenly Martial Body kid.
Born with god-tier potential, skills in the gutter.
Like running Minesweeper on a multi-million-won graphics card and top-spec rig.
Wondered how he'd fare. Just how far could he go?
Pajeong Sect had about two hundred members.
Mount Tai guests: around a hundred twenty. So they added thirty sect disciples to the force.
Two first-gen disciples, ten second-gen. Rest third-gen.
Even Mount Tai third-gen outshone most guests.
The departure was a spectacle.
Made sense. Pure upside for the sect.
Go big or go home. Show they could crush Pajeong effortlessly, cementing supreme righteous status.
Guests' faces lit up too.
They knew they were expendable. Ignorance would've been the real issue.
Still, they hoped.
Subjugations were merit badges for guests.
Shine bright, climb ranks. Better treatment, status jump.
Not full disciple, but hey.
Hence the high morale.
Crowds cheering buoyed the spirits.
Not everyone grinned like idiots, though.
Some faces were grim, stoic.
That's normal. Guests were guests.
Harshly put, meat shields. No one bats an eye if they die.
Merit was great, but survival trumped it.
The sword-eater's fate. Dilemma of wagering life for opportunity.
I followed.
Languidly, with different motives than theirs.
My focus: solely that Heavenly Martial Body guy.
Met him a tad too late. Could've molded him into a monster.
Regrettable. Such bodies were that rare.
No talent deserved dying nameless in some scrub skirmish as a guest.
If they weren't righteous, the march would've been stealthy and swift.
But righteous factions draped themselves in justice, chivalry, pretexts.
So the road to Pajeong dragged.
Letting rumors race ahead, blanketing the area.
A fair, open assault.
Mount Tai Sect played smart.
Five hundred on two hundred? Pajeong leader might surrender sans fight.
Less loot. Not ideal.
Hence a hundred fifty. Fewer than the enemy. Force a brawl.
Even a walkover worked.
"Mount Tai's hundred fifty crushed two hundred barehanded!"
Rumors like that sufficed. Every number calculated.
Clever. No fluke rising to top dog.
Thus, after two more days of pompous procession, Mount Tai disciples and guests arrived at Pajeong Sect's gates.