Chapter 38: First-Rate Martial Artist Peng Hyeon-hwi (1)
Chapter 38: First-Rate Martial Artist Peng Hyeon-hwi (1)
Seong Ryang-ha, the Lord of the Assassination Pavilion known as the Soul-Chasing Flying Dagger, scoffed as he watched Yang Jeok-yo lunge at Peng Hyeon-hwi.
"He won't even grant the opening move to a mere junior. The man never changes."
"As a martial artist, it is the correct decision."
The Hao Clan Leader had appeared silently by his side.
Seong Ryang-ha grumbled with a look of displeasure. At this rate, it’s hard to tell who the assassin is, he thought.
The Fifteen Lords of the World were the absolute masters of the land.
As one of the Five Tyrants of the Unorthodox Path, representing the Black Path, approached, the two members of the Murong family shrank back with wary expressions.
The Hao Clan Leader gave a soft, light laugh at their reaction.
"I am in a very pleasant mood today, so do not fret."
"If that is the case, may I ask a question?"
"I am quite fond of the Murong family. Speak freely."
"Why did you not stop it?"
Murong Seo-jeong was watching Peng Hyeon-hwi with worried eyes.
As a master of the Peak Realm himself, he could easily read the direction of the life-and-death duel unfolding before them.
He could not win. It was a foregone conclusion.
Even if Peng Hyeon-hwi fought incredibly well for someone at the Second-Rate level, and even if his essence, qi, and spirit were exceptionally well-refined, he was still a minuscule existence in the world of true masters.
Yang Jeok-yo, on the other hand, was different.
The Divine Spear Yang Family was a prestigious clan with a long history, and Yang Jeok-yo himself was a powerhouse who had once reigned as the overlord of the Shanxi martial world.
Even if he had failed to ascend from the Super Peak Realm and lost his timing, and even if his current skills fell short of the standards of Peak Realm masters, the fact remained.
The gap between one who has successfully opened their Middle Dantian and an inferior who has not is wider and deeper than the difference between a First-Rate martial artist and a commoner.
Because he had reached the Peak Realm, he could say this with certainty.
The very time they lived in was different. It was a sensation where the very composition of a human being changed.
At his question, the Hao Clan Leader smiled warmly and spoke.
"Well, the Divine Spear Yang Family is indeed an old and prestigious clan. The Six Harmonies Pear Blossom Spear was certainly a martial art worthy of being called a world-shaking technique... once."
"...Once?"
"It means not all martial arts evolve with time. The deeper the history, the more techniques are lost to the storms of time. The Divine Spear Yang Family has failed to produce a master of the Harmony Realm since the fall of the Song Dynasty. Conversely, this is why the Wudang Sect and the Peng Family are counted as the greatest sects. Despite having a lineage of only about two hundred years, they have preserved the martial arts of their founders—who once vied for the title of 'Best Under Heaven'—in their entirety."
Family secrets passed down orally are lost if they do not undergo proper succession.
Even if secret manuals remain, they are lost if the talent of the descendants is insufficient.
There are clear limits to martial arts that can be learned through manuals alone, which is why most martial families spend centuries adding annotations to their texts.
Large, ancient prestigious families usually increase the number of their manuals through this process.
They grow by expanding the breadth of their martial arts and developing the techniques of their founders. That is the normal way...
But the era was not like that.
In the history of the Central Plains, no nation had lasted for hundreds of years.
When a great nation crumbled, countless sects of the martial world met their end as well.
The Divine Spear Yang Family could not escape that tide.
The secrets of the Six Harmonies Pear Blossom Spear were lost to the northern barbarians during the Song Dynasty.
Yang Jeok-yo was a man who had become a master by piling up those broken fragments.
If one considers that even lost martial arts had the potential to raise a single martial artist to the Peak Realm, then the founder of the Divine Spear Yang Family was indeed a man worthy of the title 'Divine Spear'... however...
"Look at that sight."
She spoke while looking at the end of a martial artist who had laid down his weapon for too long.
The spear he thrust contained the Astral Energy of a master, but it was not swift.
He merely repeated what he was accustomed to, failing to maintain the flow of a life-and-death duel.
Compared to the potential of his martial arts, his qualities as a martial artist had been dead for too long.
No one fears a rusted and chipped blade.
Yang Jeok-yo’s behavior was the same.
He had reigned over the Shanxi martial world only through the reputation he built in his youth and the dignity of his family; there were likely stronger martial artists even within his own clan.
So, it was for the best.
She considered him a suitable opponent to test Peng Hyeon-hwi's talent.
It was a gap that could be narrowly bridged if he risked his life and allowed all his talents to bloom.
To close that gap, she had given him a slight push.
If he possessed enough talent to utilize the True Qi she had funneled into him, he would be able to meet his opponent's eyes, if only for a moment.
The timing and method of using it, luck and effort, and the accumulated merit he had built up until now—she would collect him only after testing all of those things.
"What if he dies?"
Murong Seo-jeong muttered in bewilderment.
At those words, the Hao Clan Leader burst into a bright laugh.
"What, do you think we are the Great Heroes of the Orthodox Faction? Your teachings are too soft. We do not raise our juniors in such a manner."
"At the very least, you should send him against an opponent he has a chance of defeating."
"How can one who despairs because defeat is certain lead a Great Sect? I am actually quite worried about the future of you Orthodox people."
"But, Hao Clan Leader."
Murong Cheong's lips twitched as she carefully chose her words.
Even if her Han Chinese was clumsy, she could not utter words that would offend the dignity of an absolute master in this place.
"Peng... that young hero is of the direct lineage of the Hebei Peng Family. For the Hao Clan to speak of a disciple...?"
"Haha, look, little girl."
Yang Jeok-yo's body came to a sudden halt.
Peng Hyeon-hwi was gasping for breath, his fist still extended.
Lightning crackled and faded from his eyes and gauntlets.
He had stepped forward without stopping against an overwhelming opponent.
Even as his entire body was being slashed, he never looked away from his enemy.
Staring intently at a single, microscopic thread of a chance for victory.
Continuing his steps, connecting inch by inch into a foot, and foot by foot into ten feet.
Surviving through it all, finally.
With perfect timing, a perfect moment, and perfect energy manipulation.
He stood alone, having survived.
"Do you intend to keep such talent buried in a corner of Hebei? He has the potential to traverse the world."
He drew his broken saber.
It was a movement of complete exhaustion, devoid of any True Qi, even trembling slightly. And yet.
Sring. With a sharp sound, the raised saber fell straight, touching Yang Jeok-yo's head and passing through.
The blood debt has been collected. That voice wound through the quiet inner courtyard.
"I shall have him."
The Hao Clan Leader looked down at the young man with burning eyes.
While the Lord of the Assassination Pavilion sighed and Murong Seo-jeong's face stiffened, Murong Cheong looked at the young man holding the saber instead.
If that were truly the case...
Would it not be a shame for such a spirit to be raised in the embrace of the Black Path and the Unorthodox Faction?
So she thought.
* * *
It felt as if my entire body was screaming.
Considering what I’d done over the past few days, it was only natural.
I’d enjoyed nearly two days of sleepless hiking (including killing a crew), and from the moment I arrived in Pyeongseong until now, I hadn't had a proper rest.
My internal energy had hit rock bottom, and I’d barely made it this far by scraping together every bit of the Hao Clan Leader's True Qi.
The feeling of old man Yang Jeok-yo's hair in my hand was so unpleasant I almost threw it away.
Moreover...
My saber...!!
I had to suppress the urge to wail.
Right now, in this place, as a direct descendant of the Peng Family, I had slain the head of a prestigious Orthodox martial family.
I had cut down an absolute master whose age, status, and martial level were overwhelmingly superior to mine.
As I felt everyone's astonished gazes on me, it suddenly sank in.
Is this the loneliness of the absolute?
I felt like I could go home, beat up my second brother, and propose a duel for the family headship to my grandfather right now.
But there was something I had to do first.
Zhuge Yun. I had to finish cutting off that guy's head.
It wasn't just because I said I'd trade two for two.
If I’d committed such an act, I naturally had to take responsibility.
"Zhuge Yun. Come out."
I spoke as I tied Yang Jeok-yo's blood-dripping head to a pole, but no one approached. What?
"Zhuge Yun...?"
"That fellow fled the moment your fist connected with Yang Jeok-yo."
"Pardon...??"
Wait, what?
Startled, I scanned the crowd, but Zhuge Yun was nowhere to be seen.
Wow, is this for real? How could this happen to someone carrying the Zhuge name?
Could such a coward really spring from the bloodline of the Martial Marquis Zhuge Liang? The Martial Marquis is a figure the government has given shout-outs to until they were blue in the face, serving as a symbol of loyalty since the Hanzhong era.
He’s really dragging his ancestor's name through the mud. That piece of trash.
"Wait, Hao Clan Leader, why did you just let him run away?"
"There are many reasons, but since I do not like your tone, I feel no need to answer."
"Ugh."
Don't think about the pink elephant.
I exhaled and composed my voice.
It was hard to say to someone the same age as my grandfather, but if it weren't for her, I might have died at Yang Jeok-yo's hands today.
"Big Sis."
"The Jinju Eon Family and the Murong Family, and likely the Huangfu Family and the Beggars' Sect, will denounce today's events. A plot that leaks after failing only serves to tighten the strategist's noose. The Zhuge Family Head is not one to handle matters carelessly, so that boy will not be able to step outside his family's gates after today."
"If that's all, I'm honestly disappointed... Ah, not in you, Sis, I meant I'm disappointed in the result."
"Fufu, indeed, that cannot be all. It is better that he is alive. Since he returned alive, the Zhuge Family will have to yield a significant portion of their influence in the Martial Alliance as a price for today's scheme. Since this situation involves many great sects in a complex web, the resolution will be long and arduous. The Shanxi martial world will also lose faith in the Martial Alliance, so his survival is better than his death."
The Hao Clan Leader stood by my side with a gentle smile.
"Now, let us go, my disciple. As soon as you arrive at your family and wrap things up, you must leave with me. The road is long if you wish to traverse the world and learn the ways of my sect."
"Uh. About that, just a moment..."
I stepped slightly away from the Hao Clan Leader and bowed deeply toward the Lord of the Assassination Pavilion.
By the standards of medieval China, this was a form of etiquette higher than a simple fist-and-palm salute.
The Lord of the Assassination Pavilion looked somewhat flustered.
Ignoring that, I spoke to him.
"I know that past events must have been unpleasant for you. Nevertheless, I, Peng, am deeply moved by the character of the Assassination Pavilion Lord, who assisted this junior's path today."
"Ahem, hmph. Kof. It is the duty of a senior to cherish the juniors of the martial world. Do not mind it too much."
"I will make sure to spread word of this throughout my family."
"If possible, let the Family Head know as well."
"Of course, Elder."
The bond between senior and junior had become so heartwarming.
In the midst of it, the Hao Clan Leader was looking at the Assassination Pavilion Lord with an incredibly pathetic expression.
The elders and I left the Divine Spear Yang Family together.
No one dared to block the path of a group that included the Hao Clan Leader.
This was the power of the Fifteen Lords of the World who looked down upon the earth.
In the Shanxi martial world, there was only one Harmony Realm master in the Hengshan Sect, and such a peerless master would never wander outside their mountain gates.
The most free-spirited peerless masters in the world were the Beggar Immortal, whose tracks were unknown, and the Hao Clan Leader, who chose coexistence by holding the weaknesses of every sect.
A Harmony Realm master can only be stopped by another master of that level.
Thus, the martial world had taken on a form similar to a cold war.
It was a period with the most masters in history.
It was called an era where the power of the martial world was at its highest.
That was likely why something like today was possible.
The peace of the martial world was maintained in such a precarious balance that merely 'slightly' reducing the power of the Hebei Peng Family would tip the scales.
It was a turbulent age.
An era where all ambitious men waited in the shadows for the fall of other powerhouses, and all strategists across the world were making their moves on the grand chessboard.
The moment the balance broke, chaos would ensue that would make the Righteous-Demonic Wars of the past look like a joke.
And yet, my brothers...
They were shaking hands with the White Lotus Cult just to keep their snot-nosed youngest brother in check.
They were calling the Martial Alliance, hoping for a reversal because they thought a war would solidify their support base, only to barely escape a forfeit defeat.
Their brains were truly pure.
If those guys rose to positions where they handled the family's affairs in this state, the family would be a sight to behold.
For the sake of my peaceful retirement, I could never let that happen...
"Excuse me."
"Huh?"
Was it Murong Cheong? A girl with deep blue eyes and bright chestnut hair—a half-foreigner—approached and spoke in clumsy Han Chinese.
Honestly, I thought the Murong family's naming sense was disastrous; I’d bet my entire fortune they named her Murong Cheong just because she was born with blue eyes.
For the record, my entire fortune at this moment was one half-broken saber.
Yang Jeok-yo's head had to be presented to the family, not me, so excluding that...
"Why did you do it?"
"What? What do you mean?"
I'm so confused.
"No... ugh... why did you challenge Family Head Yang? You could have died."
"I think the translator you're using is a bit off."
"What?"
"No, just talking to myself. Um... why did I challenge him to a life-and-death duel? Well."
My eyes had flipped, for one.
If I wanted to play it safe, I could have brought the Peng warriors, sucked up to the Hao Clan Leader, and made steady moves.
But if I did that, not a few Peng warriors would have died.
Then the Hebei Dragon Slaying Alliance would have definitely declared war on the Shanxi martial world.
Then things would have gone exactly according to my stupid second brother's plan, which I didn't like.
But if I ran away without doing anything, I couldn't collect the blood debt for the Peng warriors who died unfairly.
And if I’d rushed in with the Peng warriors who had just arrived to collect the blood debt, it would have gone exactly as Zhuge Yun planned.
There were many reasons, but since she probably wouldn't understand, I'll keep it short.
"Because I thought I'd win."
Honestly, if Yang Jeok-yo had been a truly insurmountable powerhouse, I would have gone straight to the Hao Clan Leader.
But even from a distance, I thought, Hmm, is he doable?
It was just a feeling I couldn't quite describe. When I looked at my grandfather, the combat unit leaders, or the grandmas and grandpas in the Council of Elders, I didn't even dare to try.
But seeing Yang Jeok-yo shouting at the Orthodox martial artists in the inner courtyard, somehow...
He looked doable. That's what I thought.
"And when I tried, it worked."
Explaining all the reasons and calculations one by one would be complex and pedantic.
The Hebei Peng Family were people who would just spam the 'Then die' button in cases like this anyway.
As I spoke with a smile under the fully risen eastern sun, Murong Cheong's expression became subtle.
She gave me a light shove and spoke in a strange tone.
"Then what about me?"
"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand."
"Do I look doable?"
"Hmm, that's a bit ambiguous."
When I said that, Murong Cheong chattered something at me in a northern dialect and hopped away.
By then, we had reached the vicinity of Pyeongseong's outer wall.
At that sight, Murong Seo-jeong approached with an awkward smile.
"Cheong-ah says she wants to have a spar with you next time."
"I hope we can talk first the next time we meet, right?"
"I personally hope so as well. I might feel differently about other Peng warriors, but I have no desire to trade lives with you. Wouldn't it be a waste?"
"Thank you truly for today, Brother Murong. Ah, I said 'Brother.' My apologies. You look so young that I keep thinking of you as a brother."
"What? Bwahahaha! Call me whatever you like! Hahaha! It seems I've gained a younger brother with quite an age gap!"
"Shall we? If you're okay with it, I'm fine with it."
At that sight, the Assassination Pavilion Lord sighed, wiped his face a few times, and leaped away.
"I can't bear to watch this any longer. I shall take my leave, Hao Clan Leader."
"Take care, Elder."
"Why is Murong Seo-jeong 'Brother' and the Hao Clan Leader 'Big Sis,' but I'm 'Elder,' you brat!"
"Well, that's because..."
Do you have no conscience?
At my look, the Assassination Pavilion Lord left with a very dejected face.
The Hao Clan Leader chuckled and shook her head.
"There is no need to pay mind to an inferior who hasn't even achieved rejuvenation."
"Of course, Big Sis."
"I'm going crazy, seriously."
Murong Cheong had a very complicated expression as she whispered something to Brother Murong Seo-jeong.
Murong Seo-jeong, who had been smiling warmly, finally snapped out of it and looked up.
"I must take my leave as well. Hao Clan Leader, the Murong Family will consider today's events a favor."
"My favor was not directed at you."
"Preventing a young hero from vanishing pointlessly is more than enough to earn the Murong Family's goodwill. When this child grows up, at least the Dragon Slaying Alliance will treat our family more favorably."
Murong Seo-jeong bowed deeply to me and the Hao Clan Leader before leaving.
The uncle and niece disappeared into the early morning shadows along the outer walls of Pyeongseong.
The Hao Clan Leader, who had been watching them for a moment, gestured with her chin.
"Go and show your majesty. You have earned the right."
"Thank you."
The reason everyone had scattered was obvious.
A group of riders was galloping toward the outer gates of Pyeongseong, kicking up clouds of dust.
The sun was rising.
Along with the dim dawn, commoners began to appear on the streets one by one.
In this era, mornings in medieval China were quite early.
Because Pyeongseong was one of the most bustling cities in the Shanxi region, the street vendors in the outer city were starting to get busy.
Amidst them, the young man walked leisurely, carrying a pole draped with blood-stained clothes.
A buzz of commotion rose around him.
In the distance, he saw members of the Beggars' Sect looking at him and hiding or running away in a hurry.
And before long.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!!
The loud sound of several horses crossing the gatehouse of Pyeongseong's outer wall echoed.
The momentum of the warriors on horseback was so fierce that the commoners quickly scrambled out of the way.
As I stood still on the main road leading to the inner city, I could see the faces of those approaching.
It was like dark clouds flowing under the murky dawn.
Warriors dressed in pitch-black martial robes were galloping toward me, each with a saber slung across their back.
The man at the lead soon pulled the reins and came to a halt.
"Peng Hyeon-hwi...! You were alive!"
Seong Chwi-san, a warrior of the Sanwol Hall, jumped down despite his exhausted appearance and rushed toward the blood-covered young man.
His entire martial robe was in tatters, and his slightly trembling hands hinted at the events of the previous night.
At a glance, his True Qi was depleted.
He looked like a martial artist who had scraped his internal energy to the bottom and was on the verge of collapse.
Even in that state, he was clearly seen carrying a long pole across his shoulder.
Peng Hyeon-hwi walked forward. Straight toward the halted Peng warriors.
"You should have waited at the main road! You knew better than anyone that Pyeongseong was a death trap, so what on earth is this...! Do you know how much trouble we went through searching for your traces!"
Seong Chwi-san shouted loudly as he ran.
He grabbed my wrist and funneled True Qi to check my acupoints.
Fortunately, there were no fatal injuries.
As soon as he confirmed this, he shielded me.
Concern seemed to seep from his attitude.
"Everyone, into escort formation! Secure the retreat route!"
"There's no need for that, Senior."
Peng Hyeon-hwi pushed Seong Chwi-san's shoulder away and planted the pole into the ground.
The warriors' eyes followed the pole upward.
Two sets of martial robes, blood-soaked martial robes, were fluttering in the wind.
And beneath them, a head was hanging.
"I have fulfilled the dying wishes of Flying Tiger Pavilion 4th Squad Leader Peng Jeong-gyeon and squad member Jeong Hyeon-jin. As the blood debt for the price of the two deceased's blood..."
The young man drew his saber.
The half-broken, chipped, and dull blade seemed to tell the story of the fierce battle that had taken place.
The young man swung the saber, cutting the rope tied to the pole.
As the severed head fell with a soft sound, he caught it gently.
He walked toward the warrior standing behind Seong Chwi-san.
The Flying Tiger Pavilion Lord, who had led the warriors, looked directly at the young man approaching him.
As he received the head the young man handed over, he finally saw the face.
The face of a shocked old man.
"I have taken the head of Yang Jeok-yo, the Family Head of the Divine Spear Yang Family."
"Family Head Yang...!!"
It was a familiar face.
Since the Flying Tiger Pavilion was the combat unit of the Outer Hall, they couldn't possibly fail to recognize the famous figures of the Shanxi martial world who directly bordered the Dragon Slaying Alliance's territory.
It was indeed Yang Jeok-yo's face.
All the warriors of the Peng Family looked at the young man.
Peng Hyeon-hwi—the young man who had charged into the heart of the death trap that was Pyeongseong to collect the blood debt of his fallen comrades and claimed the head of the Yang Family Head.
Under the rising sun of the east, the aged Flying Tiger Pavilion Lord was suddenly struck by a memory.
As he looked at the young man standing tall and proud, clutching the blood-stained robes of his kinsmen, he saw a shadow of the past.
The defeat in the Righteous-Demonic War, the death of the Family Head, and the subsequent decline of the clan.
In the precarious state of the Hebei martial world...
Countless Black Path factions had been circling like vultures, seeking to seize control of Hebei. Meanwhile, the Orthodox Faction warriors had descended upon them, claiming they were punishing the clan for its "sins" during the war.
Amidst the deaths of so many kinsmen, he remembered a young warrior charging forward, draped in the blood-soaked robes of the Peng Family.
Peng Ik-jin. This was before he reigned as a Peerless Master.
In those chaotic days, he had earned a title born of both fear and awe for the way he went berserk at the sight of his kinsmen's blood: the 'Bloodhound Asura.'
The face of that young man from decades ago lived on, mirrored perfectly in the youth standing before him two generations later.
"Among the direct lineage, there is surely no one who carries a thicker legacy of blood than you, Young Master."
The old warrior of the Peng Family removed his own outer robe, draped it over the young man’s exposed shoulders, and turned away.
It was time to return. And he knew that what followed would be a storm of no small proportions.
For it is in times of chaos that true heroes are born.