Chapter 106: The Flash Art Lineage (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 106: The Flash Art Lineage (6)
"What in the world... Did he master some heart cultivation art from the Wudang Sect?" Ma Se-in muttered in bewilderment.
The elders lined up nearby were visibly shaken. Their complexions shifted, a stark contrast to the heavy, imposing auras they had projected just moments ago. It looked as though they wanted to speak up right then and there.
"It's closer to Shaolin than Wudang. Though even they wouldn't compress and accumulate their qi like that," Lazy Flame Dragon whispered to himself.
"So you are the Lazy Flame Dragon. They 'wouldn't'? You are wrong. 'Cannot' is more accurate. For even in the accumulation of qi, there is talent."
Ma Yeon-jeok was the only one nodding, a pleased smile on his face.
Amidst this, a chilly voice rang out.
"Did you just speak of rights and demands on your own?"
Ju Yeon-jeong's tone was cold and stern. She was entirely different from her son, Ma Se-in. Her eyes hadn't wavered once; her gaze remained fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin, straight and intense. She showed absolutely no signs of intimidation, even with a Purple-Ranked peerless expert standing right beside her. This was despite her surely knowing of Ma Yeon-jeok's deep affection for Jeong Yeon-shin.
Sure enough, Ma Yeon-jeok's thunderous roar fell upon her.
"Who do you think you are questioning right now? Step back."
"That child, Flash Art, spoke of the clan while bringing up rights and demands. This is a matter of the Ma Clan. Are you planning to give up everything—even your liver and gallbladder—to a Blue-Ranked expert of the Demonlight Wing, blinded by personal affection?"
"What did you just say?"
"I ask that the Clan Head suppress his anger and show understanding."
A fierce argument broke out between Ma Yeon-jeok and Ju Yeon-jeong. Yet, Ju Yeon-jeong didn't even bat an eye. Only Ma Yeon-jeok's face flushed red with rage. Ju Yeon-jeong's influence within the clan was clearly stronger than expected.
This was evident from the way the elders maintained solemn expressions, refusing to take sides. Although the ecosystem of a great noble clan was said to be no different from the treacherous politics of Beijing's Forbidden City, it was still hard to comprehend given Ma Yeon-jeok's standing. Even if his martial prowess had declined, he was still the former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.
—Did your mother release some of your clan's heirloom martial arts? This scene makes no sense.
Jeong Yeon-shin sent the telepathic message openly, directing the question at his collateral relative. An immediate reply came back.
—You're quite sharp.
Ma Se-in wore a bitter expression. His complex emotions bled clearly through his response.
The Ma Clan's martial arts were not orthodox.
Recently, the decline in skill of Ma Yeon-jeok, the clan's sole Purple-Ranked expert, had become undeniable. Consequently, the Desolate Ma Clan was reconsidering their heirloom martial arts. After all, the rise and fall of a prestigious Jianghu clan was directly tied to the caliber of its martial studies.
Amidst this crisis, Ju Yeon-jeong had brought in an imperial martial art: the Golden Immortal Eight Methods. The moment Ma Se-in was designated as the successor, she used her remarkable resourcefulness to obtain the imperial family's permission and released a portion of the Golden Immortal Eight Methods' mnemonics to the clan. Through this, she won the absolute favor of the Ma Clan's retainers and solidified her base of support, ensuring that Ma Se-in's position could no longer be shaken by Ma Yeon-jeok's personal whims.
—I see.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded inwardly. It had been strange when Ju Yeon-jeong bypassed Ma Yeon-jeok to summon him earlier, but now everything made sense. The Desolate Ma Clan was a martial family of the Jianghu. The power of any prestigious clan stemmed from its martial studies and reputation. When the very foundation of their martial arts was held hostage, they had no choice but to waver.
'That's none of my business right now.'
The one currently facing a crisis like a candle in the wind over in the Sichuan martial world was the direct heir of this very clan. Jeong Yeon-shin had secured the rawest intelligence from the Chief Steward's Office faster than anyone else. He immediately spoke up.
"Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Ma Jin."
He spoke, completely ignoring the ongoing argument between Ma Yeon-jeok and Ju Yeon-jeong. Having just demonstrated the vaporization of the Spirit Treasure Jade right before their eyes, Jeong Yeon-shin's voice cut through the tension with an undeniable presence.
"I hear Uncle Ma's whereabouts are unknown. The same goes for the rest of the Demonlight Wing. The Chief Steward's Office said they must be considered out of commission for now."
"What did you say...?"
One of the Desolate Ma Clan's elders spoke up first, the question slipping out involuntarily. Jeong Yeon-shin paid it no mind and continued.
"A courier just arrived at the Chief Steward's Office. I heard the report directly. We need a force capable of finding and bringing back the entirety of the Demonlight Wing."
"..."
After a brief silence, someone reacted. A violent wave of energy surged outward. The owner of the purple robes billowing like a raging tide was Ma Yeon-jeok.
"...Do you know how chaotic the martial world has been lately? The famine has lasted far too long. Countless people are rising up in revolt across the land, to the point where it is hard to distinguish martial artists from commoners. I am saying there are too many scoundrels acting like kings throughout the Central Plains, relying on a few stray martial arts moves they've picked up. The main fortress has no spare strength. The Demonlight Wing must prove their survival on their own."
His aura and his words were entirely at odds. Even as his anger flared, he maintained a razor-sharp rationality. He drew a strict line between public and private matters, even before the maternal grandson he found so difficult to face. The sheer caliber of the former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps was chilling. It was a set of values hardened over decades of bloodshed and command.
For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin did not see his maternal grandfather as human. Was he like this when he abandoned my mother?
The sword of the Desolate Fortress moved his wrinkled lips, addressing the boy. "The Chief Steward's Office must have told you the exact same thing this grandfather of yours is saying. Am I right?"
"...Yes. That is why I thought to borrow the Ma Clan's strength," Jeong Yeon-shin replied.
"...The forces of our main family are also deployed to relieve the suffering of the people across the land. The Castle Lord commanded it. With the Eight Families and the Thirteen Heavens running wild in their own ways, the main fortress's remaining martial units number fewer than several dozen."
"Is it not possible for you to personally set out, Grandfather?" He finally voiced the question that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue.
The one who answered him was Ju Yeon-jeong. Her red lips curled into a strange, mocking twist.
"A Purple-Ranked expert without an official post must remain on standby at all times. Such is the law of the main fortress."
Every single one of them spoke of the law. Everyone was bound by it. Suddenly, a dark impulse seized Jeong Yeon-shin. He wanted to shatter these invisible shackles.
'What should I do?'
He had to secure a force capable of handling the Sichuan martial world, and he had to do it quickly. The Demonlight Wing's whereabouts were already unknown. The longer he delayed, the higher the probability that they wouldn't even be able to recover their corpses.
'Should I accept the Desolate Ma Clan's martial studies and modify them? Even if it takes time?'
No. That wouldn't work. How long and complex must the mnemonics accumulated over generations be? It was not something that could be deciphered and fixed in a short time. It would actually be faster to reject the Ma Clan's orthodox teachings entirely and create something new from scratch. But who here would ever agree to that?
"Ah..."
His heart felt as if it were being squeezed. It was a limit he could find no way to overcome. For the first time since learning of his fleeting lifespan, Jeong Yeon-shin felt utterly helpless. The frustration was only magnified by the fact that he wasn't in Sichuan to face the situation directly.
"I have a force I have raised privately," Ju Yeon-jeong's chilly voice drifted toward him. "If you make me one promise, I will gladly lend them to you."
Jeong Yeon-shin merely let her words pass through one ear and out the other. She was of collateral imperial descent. There was no telling what kind of venomous, viper-like demand she might make. Only if he absolutely couldn't secure a force before tonight passed would he even reconsider her offer.
"Hang in there," Lazy Flame Dragon offered an awkward word of comfort as they turned to leave.
The members of the Desolate Ma Clan saw them off in silence. Most wore stiff expressions, clearly struggling to control their own emotions. There is nothing we can do. Their faces all seemed to say as much.
Step.
Jeong Yeon-shin had not given up yet.
'By any means necessary.'
He already had a few people in mind. Himself and Lazy Flame Dragon first. He also intended to request help from Namgung Hwa-shin.
'Let's secure three Blue-Ranked experts to start with.'
However, the moment they entered Sichuan, they would have to begin searching and investigating across a massive territory. They were severely short-handed. Even a White-Ranked expert could easily overwhelm ordinary rogue cultivators, but there was no way to secure such forces immediately.
Just as he was calculating his options, the boy stopped walking and suddenly raised his head. He sensed presences gathering in the distance. Outside the main gate of the Desolate Ma Clan, he felt the quietly settled ripples of true qi. It wasn't just one or two people. The auras ranged from those who hadn't even received an official rank in the Desolate Fortress to those capable of wielding a sword at the level of a Blue-Ranked expert.
"It seems you have guests who came looking for you, Yeon-shin." Ma Yeon-jeok had evidently sensed them beforehand. His tone was peculiar.
Rumble!
Those outside seemed to have noticed Jeong Yeon-shin's presence as well. The massive main gates slowly swung open. A large group of martial artists strode through, heading straight toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
"Their affiliations are all over the place...?" Ma Se-in muttered, his voice filled with bewilderment. As the successor of the Desolate Ma Clan who had lived in the main fortress for a long time, he was intimately familiar with the faces of the Divine Sword Corps' martial units.
'The ones in the lead are all official warriors,' Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
There were about thirty of them. Behind them followed a vast number of nameless disciples. The boy's eyes scanned the crowd. A profound sense of familiarity emanated from their bodies. Every single one of them felt recognizable to him. What he had previously felt only within his own body was now visible in the physical forms of others. It was the undeniable mark of relentless training. The shape of their muscles, the rhythm of their strides, and the subtle aura of mastered forms—it was all there.
"Flash Art? He's younger than I heard..."
"If you're judging by appearance, look at his body first."
"An incredibly well-honed physique. It was worth making the trip."
"Worth it? Isn't fulfilling our duty the priority? He bestowed something mind-boggling upon us, so we must repay him first."
These voices belonged to the ones approaching from the right. They seemed to have mostly trained in fist and palm techniques. The muscles sloping down from their shoulders formed elegant, powerful curves. It was a familiar silhouette. It was the exact physical change that became prominent during the early stages of training the Infinite Flower of Time Fist. When flesh was forged alongside that specific true qi, the body developed in that exact manner.
'Was what Shin So-bin said actually true?'
He could even tell which specific forms they had focused on. Four had properly mastered the First Form: Spiral, three had mastered the Second Form: Advancing Thunder, and the remaining five had mastered the Third Form: Fist Flower. The martial artists of the Desolate Fortress were all geniuses of the Jianghu. He had heard this often from his seniors in the Demonlight Wing. They were individuals who had been hailed as once-in-a-generation prodigies in their respective hometowns. If they chose a single form to master over a short period, they were bound to show distinct, rapid achievements.
'And.'
Jeong Yeon-shin's gaze shifted.
"..."
Those walking from the opposite side of the fist and palm martial artists were completely silent. They were swordsmen. One could tell just by the Desolate Fortress swords hanging from their waists. Both the men and women possessed long, agile limbs. That same aura of familiarity drifted from their bodies. It was a sharp energy, piercing like rays of sunlight. They had clearly trained in several sword forms of the Radiant Brilliance Sword Style.
'That's not all.'
Some even radiated the uniquely vibrant sensation of the Scripture of Initial Overcoming. Had they truly initiated themselves into the art that required such a meticulous sense of overlapping true qi? There were also those whose steps carried the subtle, drifting principles of the Radiant Wing Step footwork. His field of vision was entirely filled with his own exclusive martial arts. They were the living, breathing manifestations of his martial mnemonics. Jeong Yeon-shin stood dazed for a moment.
"What is the matter? You were like a razor-sharp blade during the promotion test."
A heavy voice rang out. An aura akin to an experienced general of the northern army washed over him. It belonged to the man standing at the very head of the approaching crowd. The middle-aged warrior's scar-covered face was deeply familiar. His robes, however, were different. When they first met, he had worn white, but now he was clad in blue martial attire.
It was the Red-Day Sword of the Desolate Fortress's Thread-Annihilation Unit. He had once clashed swords with Jeong Yeon-shin during the Blue Rank promotion test. It seemed the Red-Day Sword had finally raised his rank to Blue as well.
"After your return, I kept a close eye on your movements. Today, word finally reached me that you had stepped out of the Demonlight Wing pavilion," the Red-Day Sword said, stopping about ten paces in front of Jeong Yeon-shin. Despite the gruesome scars carved into his face, his expression was gentle. "I have been looking for you for a long time."
His tone had changed. It was no longer the way he had treated Flash Art back when he was a mere White-Ranked warrior. He was no longer speaking down to him.
The warriors who had approached alongside the Red-Day Sword also came to a halt. Those who pursued martial studies within the Desolate Fortress fixed their eyes upon the single boy standing before them.
'They are strangers, yet so familiar,' Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
That was exactly how it felt. They were not outsiders. That was the fundamental nature of the people of the Jianghu. Art gives birth to schools, and martial arts connect people. And from those connections, something greater is born. It is called a martial sect. Mu for martial, Maek for lineage.
At this very moment, a brand-new lineage of martial studies was being forged right here. Bestowing his martial arts upon others—an act he had done merely out of a desire for merit—had returned to him with astonishing results.
"Let us pay our respects," the Red-Day Sword commanded.
Instantly, all the warriors clasped their hands and raised them to their chests. It was a perfectly disciplined arching hand salute. It was a gesture clearly born from the bottom of their hearts, carrying the utmost respect.
The sensation washing over him was bizarre. The figures of the Ma Clan, including Ju Yeon-jeong, faded entirely from Jeong Yeon-shin's mind, even though everyone was watching this scene unfold.
"The practitioners of this lineage..."
As if they had rehearsed it, the moment the Red-Day Sword spoke the opening words, the warriors lined up behind him finished the sentence in unison.
—We respectfully greet the Grandmaster.
They spoke with a single, resounding voice. It was a greeting that shattered the quiet night of the Desolate Fortress.