Chapter 122: Samadhi True Fire (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 122: Samadhi True Fire (2)
The air in the City of Master Craftsmen grew heavy. An exceptionally frigid wind swept past the experts of the Tang Clan and the Beggar Sect, howling against the cavern's stone walls with a rough, blunt scrape.
Such was the state of mind of the Beggar Sect's Successor.
‘Flash Art Jeong Yeon-shin. A Blue Rank of the Demonlight Wing, and temporary Martial Unit Commander.’
Two conflicting emotions rose within him simultaneously: awe and wariness. As a martial artist, he could not help but admire the boy.
His achievements had come far too quickly. To fathom the depth of his martial arts, one would have to plunge into an endless abyss—or at least, that was how it felt compared to the Successor's own accomplishments. The boy's martial prowess had clearly transcended the realm of a mere rising star.
‘He is already at the level of the Desolate Fortress's Black Rank. In the near future, a new Unit Commander might emerge from the ranks of the Divine Sword Corps.’
But there was more to it than that. Simply accumulating martial prowess was entirely different from actually defeating and killing a supreme expert of equal or greater caliber.
The boy possessed a natural genius for combat. His technical skill far surpassed his actual level of cultivation.
To find another martial artist who had reached such a realm at the Flash Art's age, one would have to scour the annals of history. Even then, they could likely be counted on one hand. Names like Bodhidharma, Zhang Sanfeng, and the founder of the Ming Cult were the first to come to mind.
It was truly wondrous. The Successor felt a rare sense of astonishment, an awe that anyone walking the path of martial arts would find hard to deny.
However, looking at it from the perspective of one who managed the affairs of Jianghu, it was a different story entirely. He represented the "One Gang" of the Nine Sects and One Gang. The Beggar Sect was dedicated to protecting the unique righteousness and order of the martial world.
The sudden emergence of this boy—an anomaly embodying strange, violent, chaotic, and supernatural force—could only breed deep wariness.
‘The Martial World Alliance's opening ceremony will be held before long. Even if only as a formality, we cannot avoid inviting the experts of the Desolate Fortress. If that boy attends, will there be a single expert of his generation who can match him?’
No one came to mind.
Few sects in Jianghu welcomed the achievements of a Desolate Fortress expert. Unless they were the ascetic monks and priests of the Nine Sects cultivating in pure, tranquil temples, any other faction would immediately harbor a hidden blade in their hearts.
Even if the Fortress had done nothing wrong, the sentiment remained. The Desolate Fortress sought to suppress the martial world under the pretext of protecting the people's livelihood. The order they desired was, in truth, the absolute oppression of Jianghu.
Excluding religious martial lineages like the Nine Sects, the inner thoughts of most Orthodox martial artists, as far as the Successor knew, went something like this:
I harmed the commoners? What, did some tavern owner file a petition? A righteous martial artist is a hero, and when heroes drink, they might draw their swords a little.
There are so many truly evil men in the world. The Desolate Fortress is missing the forest for the trees...
To some extent, the Successor agreed.
"The Desolate Fortress... Just as one of their exceptionally sharp blades grows dull, another sword hones its edge to a razor-sharp point. And a ridiculously young one, to boot. A newly forged precious sword. It really is unfair," he grumbled softly.
He was referring to the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and the Flash Art.
A mere rising star had slain the core experts of major sects.
And not just one, but two. Who would believe it? The Great Sword of the Tenth Sect and the Divine Hand of the Pure Demon Alliance were figures comparable to the leaders of the elite groups within the Nine Sects.
Dokgo Gwang and Ha Yul-geuk. At the very least, they were powerful enough to hold their own against the leaders of the Eight Great Families' martial units.
‘The landscape of the martial world will shift, even if only slightly. An absurd rookie has emerged.’
The Successor thought, scratching his back vigorously as he tried to get a good look at the Flash Art.
But the boy was obscured, surrounded by the Desolate Fortress warriors in the distance. Man, they're terrifyingly vigilant.
"I think you're harboring some insidious thoughts."
Light footsteps echoed. The Successor turned his head to find the gaze of the Poison Phoenix, Tang Ryeo-ryeo, fixed quietly upon him.
"Insidious? What do you take the great Beggar Sect for? Please, call it deep, far-sighted planning. While both sides were busy killing each other, it was us beggars who protected the common folk," he replied slickly.
Tang Ryeo-ryeo's brow furrowed.
It was an undeniable fact. While the Demonlight Wing bled its strength, the Beggar Sect had stepped forward to protect the residents of the City of Master Craftsmen. It was thanks to them that most of the Ironfolk, currently huddled together in a far corner, were safe.
Only the devastated ground of the city lay empty.
The Successor smirked. "Before you point out the invisible flaws of others, you should reflect on your own behavior. Weren't you staring exclusively at Great Hero Flash Art, terrified that the Myriad Blossoms Rain might be lost? Though your subordinates did help us... I never imagined I would hear the word 'insidious' from a daughter of the Tang Clan."
"Don't make me laugh. Do you think I don't know you're constantly sizing people up? You're worried they might become an obstacle to the formation of the Martial World Alliance."
"Then what about you, young lady? Does the Supreme Elder know you've been away from home for so long?"
"Does that matter?" Tang Ryeo-ryeo replied, brushing her short hair behind her ear.
The haughty demeanor of a precious daughter from a prestigious family exuded from her every movement. The Successor's smile widened.
"If your reason for picking a fight with this humble beggar lies in the Myriad Blossoms Rain, I can certainly understand. After all, nothing in the world is more important than your family's renowned, peerless secret art. And how many experts with talent like Great Hero Flash Art could there possibly be?"
"……"
"But please watch your words and actions. Did the Tang Clan not also sign the Alliance's invitation? You declared that you would no longer stand by and watch such ruthless oppression after what happened to the Hwangbo and Namgung clans. I fear your sharp words might damage the trust of our alliance. The Supreme Elder would hardly be pleased."
The Successor continued with a smile. "Let's keep our distance from each other. The Tang Clan is, frankly, quite uncomfortable to deal with."
His relaxed tone carried a hidden blade. Tang Ryeo-ryeo did not reply. She knew this was not the place to bicker, especially with the Desolate Fortress experts nearby.
Perhaps because his intentions would be revealed eventually anyway, the Successor's audacity was absurdly grand.
It was then.
"Hey, it's my family that got wiped out, so why are you guys the ones making a fuss?"
Along with the playful words, a wave of intense heat suddenly surged. A strong arm draped heavily over the Successor's shoulder.
The Lazy Flame Dragon had suddenly appeared. For a moment, the air seemed to warp and leap wildly. An astonishingly powerful Fervent Yang True Qi was superheating the atmosphere.
"Like a bunch of reckless fools," he said, his arm still slung around the Successor's shoulders.
His voice carried an incredibly weary tone, yet a single word from him commanded absolute silence. His scorching, formidable aura—hot enough to melt flesh—exuded an air of absolute matchlessness. He was not someone any rising star could dare to challenge.
"……"
The Successor fell dead silent. The subordinates of the Beggar Sect did not dare step forward either. The Lazy Flame Dragon was already a young noble whose fame resounded far and wide across the martial world.
The martial prowess he had displayed today in the City of Master Craftsmen was nothing short of shocking. Everyone knew that, excluding the Flash Art, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, and the Tang Clan Leader, there was no one here who could match him.
And so, the Lazy Flame Dragon remained silent for a long while, a faint smile playing on his lips. It was a deliberate act, subjecting them to a terrifying pressure.
There was not a single person present who wasn't worried that the poppy addict might actually melt the Successor's neck off.
"Wow, he went all the way from here to there. Truly fascinating. I suppose you could call it the sole pleasure of my remaining life," he muttered to himself like a madman.
With his arm still wrapped around the Successor's neck, the Lazy Flame Dragon only watched Jeong Yeon-shin's progress. Even now, gentle waves of light were still flowing from the boy's body.
"Exciting. Thrilling."
It was a sight that made one realize just how vast the world of martial arts truly was. The Lazy Flame Dragon's lips curled upward.
The Successor could not budge. He had to stand there like a statue until the Flash Art, Jeong Yeon-shin, finished circulating his qi. The Lazy Flame Dragon refused to move an inch until then. Had the Beggar Sect's standing been even slightly weaker, there was no telling what might have actually happened to him.
Only when the Successor's cold sweat began to evaporate into white steam did Jeong Yeon-shin's qi circulation finally come to an end.
Hoo—
The boy slowly opened his eyes amidst the Desolate Fortress experts. Immediately, Heonwon Chang rushed over in a flurry. He was holding Jeong Yeon-shin's Desolate Fortress Sword with both hands.
"Please wear it, Young Hero," he said with a broad grin.
A small arc curved on Jeong Yeon-shin's lips. Heonwon Chang's demeanor always carried a pleasant, cheerful quality.
"You have accomplished something truly astounding. Your martial progress is beyond shocking, it's just..." Heonwon Chang, whose eyes were wide with excitement even as he smiled, was only just beginning his praise.
"Truly remarkable. The next Black Rank will surely come from the Demonlight Wing."
"Was that last technique the second form of the Infinite Flower of Time Fist? I didn't know it could create such dazzling variations. It was not at all inferior to the Plum Blossom Sword of the Hwasan Sword Excellence."
"I can still clearly picture when you were just a White Rank."
The seniors of the Demonlight Wing gathered around. Now, no one patted his head or casually touched his shoulder anymore. Instead, there was the profound respect reserved for a supreme martial artist. They looked upon him with pride and warm smiles.
This was true even though many of their comrades had just lost their lives.
Suppressing it, turning away from it, burying it deep within their hearts... They seemed accustomed to the pain. There were many ways to deal with grief, and the depth of their life experience was far greater than Jeong Yeon-shin's.
‘That... is something I must learn,’ the boy thought.
The images of his fallen seniors and Ma Jin's severed arm still flickered before his eyes. He forced himself to calm down. Until they returned home, they could not afford to let their guard down.
He briefly reunited with Ma Jin, Baek Mi-ryeo, and Cheong-myeong, but they did not have much time. There were too many wounded. It was best to leave the cave quickly and find a physician. They had simply been unable to contain their joy for a fleeting moment.
"Please, wait a moment!"
From one side, the Ironfolk of the City of Master Craftsmen's eastern district approached. There were about a hundred of them. Heartfelt expressions of gratitude poured out first. They gathered together and bowed with utmost politeness, their posture exuding profound respect.
Their gratitude was boundless and palpable. The gazes shifting between Jeong Yeon-shin and Ma Jin were intense. These were not eyes looking at mere humans; it was closer to reverence, to outright worship. They were people who had lived in a confined, isolated world. To them, the realm of the Black Rank appeared as a divine state.
"Is that young expert the reincarnation of Lü Dongbin...?" someone muttered. Even the name of one of the legendary Eight Immortals of Taoism had been invoked.
Cheong-myeong, standing beside him, nudged Jeong Yeon-shin and jokingly agreed that it was true. Baek Mi-ryeo also chimed in with a brief tease. Their smiles were playful. Though many of the seniors had changed their attitude, the Demonlight First Team remained exactly the same.
The boy elbowed Cheong-myeong right in his sword-wounded abdomen and flicked his finger against Baek Mi-ryeo's back. The two seniors let out yelps of pain.
Meanwhile, the chief of the City of Master Craftsmen's Ironfolk spoke up.
"Please, please, tell us what you desire. We will repay you with whatever we can."
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke immediately. "A prosthetic arm."
"Pardon...?"
"You said you refined Zen Master Bodhidharma's true qi into a treasure token. If so, can you not craft a prosthetic arm that can be operated with internal energy? I heard this place is overflowing with divine weaponry."
"Ah." The speaker was the shaggy-bearded village chief standing at the front. His expression brightened slightly.
He replied that it was indeed possible, but they could not begin the work immediately.
Many among them were injured as well. This had been a war between factions vying for the absolute peak of the Central Plains. More than a few residents had suffered lacerations or lost limbs from being struck by stray fragments of explosive internal energy.
"Not a single soul is unscathed." The Tang Clan Leader clicked his tongue.
He looked at Jeong Yeon-shin with a strange gaze, then swept a pitying eye over the entire City of Master Craftsmen—a place he had once wished to belong to.
"It would be best to find a physician from the outside. Follow me. All of you."
However, they still needed time to prepare. They carried the corpses of their comrades and hastily applied Golden Sore Medicine to the wounds of the injured.
Jeong Yeon-shin bowed his head and offered a silent prayer before the bodies of his seniors.
"……"
Suddenly, the boy felt a gaze upon him.
The halo residing in his heart spun slightly. He sensed a familiar wave of energy.
‘This is...’
He turned his head, looking far up toward the distant stone wall.
The figure that immediately entered his vision was familiar. She had a slender build and eyes that looked like blood condensed into jewels.
Amidst the fierce wind howling through the cave, the gaze visible through her long, fluttering black hair was bewitchingly wicked.
It was the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult. Her pitch-black hair and the hem of her Pure Blood Robe whipped wildly in the wind.
She winked with her crimson eyes.
"What of it?" the boy muttered.