Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: Clashing with the Formless Leader
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The air was thick with the scent of ozone and iron as the warriors Yulpyeong and Saryeong, alongside the stout-hearted Cheongu and Cheongsang, exerted every ounce of their physical and spiritual strength to hold the line. At the eye of this chaotic storm stood Jinmu, a pillar of immovable resolve around which the battle revolved. No matter the ferocity or the number of masked assailants that swarmed them—a group numbering roughly twenty—they could find no breach in the defenses.
To Jinmu, these men were little more than a persistent swarm of flies, annoying yet demanding a level of focus because they had to protect Zhuge Seon, who remained at the center of their formation, shielding a defenseless child in his arms. Jinmu’s sword wove the intricate patterns of the Taecheong Landscape technique, creating a brilliant, shimmering tapestry of steel that seemed to write poetry in the air.
"Cheongsang, maintain the density of the left flank! Cheongu, execute a transverse strike to clear the path! Yulpyeong..." Zhuge Seon’s voice cut through the din, issuing sharp, tactical commands as he surveyed the battlefield from his protected vantage point. With Jinmu blocking every possible gap in their perimeter, not even a pinhole of light could leak through their defensive barrier.
Boom! Kwang!
While the rest of the group was occupied with the masked subordinates, the separate duel between Dang Yeopyeong and the enemy leader reached a fever pitch of intensity. Gale-force winds generated by their fists raged in all directions, and the masked leader moved like a phantom, slipping through gaps in the air that seemed too narrow for a human body to occupy.
Dang Yeopyeong fought with growing frustration, wondering how such a bizarre martial art could even exist in the Central Plains. Judging by raw, visible skill, his own prowess far exceeded that of his opponent, yet the enemy’s technique operated on a foundation that defied conventional logic. The strikes were not overwhelmingly powerful in terms of mass, but they arrived a full beat faster than they should have.
The moment Dang Yeopyeong dodged a fist gale brimming with potent energy, the foe would already be closing in to exploit an opening that had not yet even fully formed. Clang! A palm strike would land before he could brace his internal organs, launched without any of the preparatory motions that usually signal an attack. It was impossible to predict the trajectory; the style was concise, stripped of all useless flourishes, where every feint carried the weight of a true strike.
The enemy leader's realm was likely at the pinnacle of Qi Mastery—an enormous distance from Dang Yeopyeong’s own level—yet the man could not be easily neutralized. The specter-like leader sensed bursts of raw power and retreated just enough to dart back in with unpredictable counters, leaving the orthodox master with very little room to maneuver.
Meanwhile, Jinmu’s group began to gain a decisive advantage as Zhuge Seon’s sharp judgment allowed them to push the masked men back into the shadows. As the afterimages of the Taecheong Landscape filling the sky began to dwindle, Jinmu found a moment to glance toward the struggling Dang Yeopyeong.
'Tch, they claimed he rivaled the Orthodox Seven Stars, but that was clearly a lie,' Jinmu thought with a mocking smirk. 'To be toyed with by trash like that... Wait, what is this?'
His smirk faded into a narrowing of his eyes as he analyzed the masked leader's movements. That beat of anticipation, that ability to bridge the gap in raw power through pure economy of motion... it was the Formless Technique. This was the specific martial art belonging to "those people" that the beggar elder Yang Sobang had warned him about.
In a flash, Jinmu recalled the mysterious old man from the Moonless Pavilion who had once wounded him. "Ha, so you are associated with that old bastard, are you?" A wicked, predatory smile curled on Jinmu's lips. "Cheongsang! Cheongu! Take over the center and hold it with your lives!"
Paang!
True to his impulsive nature, the moment inspiration struck, Jinmu moved with an explosive burst of speed. He did not look back to see if his nephews could handle the sudden surge of enemies; he simply trusted them to adapt. With Jinmu gone, the defensive formation hit a sudden snag, and the masked men’s swords began to rain down upon the now-vacant space in the barrier.
"Damn it!" Cheongsang shouted, nimbly leaping to Zhuge Seon’s side to deflect the incoming steel. He coordinated with Cheongu and the young lady of the Zhuge family, knowing that defending a position was at least twice as exhausting as a standard engagement. Even as they unleashed their azure sword qi, the formation began to crumble under the weight of the assault and the loss of their primary vanguard.
Shwick! Boom boom!
Jinmu ignored the masked men who tried to block his path, his fingers curving like the talons of a mountain eagle. He slashed through the air, shredding the clothes and flesh of anyone who dared to stand between him and his target. Bones were twisted and flesh was torn as he shot through the battlefield toward the leader clashing with Dang Yeopyeong.
Thoom!
With a single step that displaced the riverside sand and carved a deep crater into the earth, Jinmu lunged at the masked leader. "You bastard!" he roared. The enemy leader, caught entirely off guard while focused on Dang Yeopyeong, recoiled in shock and thrust out a palm using the Formless Technique. He believed the sudden momentum of the charge could not be blocked by a reactionary strike.
He was wrong. When Jinmu’s extended palm met the masked man’s hand, an overwhelming surge of raw, unadulterated power crushed downward. Craaaack! The impact was dull and heavy. The masked leader was hurled backward like a discarded ragdoll, his blood and qi churning violently as he slammed into the sandy ground and skidded for several yards.
"Urk!" The man vomited a mouthful of stagnant blood, which soaked his mask and stained his chest a dark, sickly red.
"You?" Dang Yeopyeong stared at Jinmu in total astonishment. It was clearly the same martial art the masked man had used, yet wielded with a terrifyingly superior force.
"You should have gone for the kill from the very beginning," Jinmu said, his gaze never leaving the prone figure. "Trying to subdue a man like this just leaves you open to his tricks. Now, go watch our backs; we are short-handed as it is."
Jinmu cracked his knuckles menacingly as he stepped toward the masked man, who was struggling to regain his footing. "I have a great many questions for you, fly. Tell me, who is the old coot from the Moonless Pavilion? He was clearly many levels above you."
The masked leader grimaced, his eyes sharpening with a mix of fear and realization. He knew of the Moonless Pavilion and the mission involving the man his order called the "Great Wolf," but he was shocked that the Zhuge family had such a monster in their ranks. He realized he could not escape this opponent; the internal injuries from that single blow had already compromised his speed.
"No matter what you think you know, this will not be an easy victory for you," the leader hissed, drawing a pair of curved daggers from his waist.
"Oh? You finally decided to draw steel?" Jinmu noted the oddly shaped weapons with a satisfied look that the masked man found impossible to read. "Well, I am certainly a cut above Dang Yeopyeong, am I not? Your legs must be shaking with the weight of your inevitable death."
Shing!
A white sword blade gleamed in Jinmu's hand, reflecting the moonlight with a cold, clinical light. "I shall handle this personally."
Paang!
Jinmu executed the Wudang Tiger-Chasing Step, a movement said to be faster than a predator's pounce, closing the distance in a blur. The masked man leaped low, crossing his daggers to block a strike aimed at his legs, but the rebounding tip of Jinmu's sword shot upward with a life of its own.
The leader realized his confidence was misplaced almost immediately. Jinmu’s swordplay had no set sequence, no fixed path, and no predictable variations. It was the Formless Technique refined into a weapon of absolute practicality, exploiting openings the moment they appeared. Kaang! Kagagang! The masked man blocked with everything he had, but each graze left a stinging wound. It was a storm of precisely measured qi that fluidly sealed every direction of escape.
"Why the surprised face? It turns out your little art is quite versatile once you get the hang of it," Jinmu taunted, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "I’ve given your eyes a treat, but now it is time to end this—without killing you quite yet!"
Paang!
The rhythm of the fight shifted violently. In a split second, the leader lost track of his opponent’s position. Puk! A strike aimed at his chest pierced just below his heart before being yanked out with the speed of lightning. The masked man clamped his hand over his nose and leaped back, green powder erupting into the air alongside his blood.
"So, you are a user of poisons as well?" Jinmu noted, his sword having punctured a hidden pouch in the man’s robes. The realization made Jinmu even more ruthless, as there was no rule stating a poison user couldn't also carry a lethal array of hidden weapons.
Pahat!
Jinmu bypassed the seeping toxic cloud and unleashed a series of dazzling sword changes that shredded the leader’s robes to tatters, exposing his upper body and causing a bundle of hidden weapons to fall uselessly to the ground. With his final resorts gone and poison seeping into his own wound, the masked man’s face twisted in a final, desperate resolve.
"Haaap!" Bloodshot veins bulged in his eyes as a monstrous, blood-red qi surged from his body. Paaang! The air exploded as he launched himself in a suicidal, all-out attack that ignored all defense. He aimed his dagger at Jinmu’s throat, pouring every drop of his condensed energy into a single strike of mutual destruction.
Jinmu’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening to a point of lethal clarity. "You actually think I would choose to die with someone like you?" He gripped his sword hilt with both hands and swung the blade down with a terrifying momentum. Woooong! The azure sword qi coiled into a single, devastating thrust as he prepared to meet the suicide strike head-on.