Chapter 123: Samadhi True Fire (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 123: Samadhi True Fire (3)
The Seventh Apostle’s eyes curved into a gentle smile. It was hard to tell if she had read Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips.
She took a light step forward.
With just a slight twist of her body, she vanished into the darkness of the cave, as if drawing the night air around herself. Her movements possessed an eerie elegance.
The Seventh Apostle turned her head and winked her crimson eyes one last time, but the boy merely blinked back. Unsure how to react, he simply analyzed her uniquely mysterious Body Protection Scripture.
‘Her Blood Art True Qi is enveloping her entire body. Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak… Is this the realm where intent and internal energy become one?’
Footwork, movement techniques, lightness skills—he realized he had yet to properly create any of them. Until now, he had been relying on the principles of Cheong-myeong's movements and the standard Body Protection Scripture from the Desolate Fortress's Gold-Piercing Martial Library.
But creating the form of one’s own steps and movements was a different matter entirely.
“We’re moving out,” Ma Jin said.
The experts of the Desolate Fortress, along with those of the Tang Clan, the Beggar Sect, and the residents of the City of Master Craftsmen, began to move in unison.
As they walked out of the City of Master Craftsmen, the once-solid ground beneath them felt soft—the aftermath of the shockwaves unleashed by the masters. The sound of stone dust crumbling beneath their feet echoed hollowly.
Behind them, the corpses of the Thirteen Heavens' experts remained in a desolate display.
Jeong Yeon-shin walked beside Ma Jin, lost in thought. He didn’t know how to sort out his feelings regarding the Seventh Apostle. Their web of gratitude and resentment was incredibly complex.
Trading blows with their lives on the line was not the issue. Such was the nature of relationships between masters pursuing the depths of martial arts. The problem was the Elder Council Head, whose whereabouts were now unknown. He was said to have been pursuing the Seventh Apostle, a matter that required interrogation.
Her status as the right hand of the Blood Flame Cult Leader was another issue. When he had infiltrated the main headquarters as the Grand Preceptor, the Third Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult had mentioned the Jeong Family Manor. Since the Apostle was aware of it, the only person who could have authorized the order to exterminate his family was the Blood Flame Cult Leader himself.
A noble of the cult was ultimately a sword wielded by the Cult Leader. It was only right to treat her as an enemy. If their paths crossed again, he would have to strike without hesitation.
Yet, what happened in the City of Master Craftsmen was different.
‘It was a life-saving grace. Back then, if not for Zen Master Bodhidharma's True Qi...’
They would have been wiped out.
Without having formed the Law-Transcending Halo Qi, Jeong Yeon-shin had been weak. He was no match for the Sword Scorpion Demon, Dokgo Gwang. He could picture himself holding out for a few exchanges before being overwhelmed by the demon’s sword force. He had even been subdued by the Seventh Apostle due to his internal injuries.
She could have easily killed him. Instead, she had granted him a fated encounter.
A fragment of True Qi containing Bodhidharma's spirituality was a treasure capable of inciting a bloodbath the moment word of it leaked. It was the very treasure that two great sects of the Thirteen Heavens had cornered the Demonlight Wing to obtain.
The manifestation treasure of Zen Master Bodhidharma.
It was said that all martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin. This was the spirituality of the great grandmaster who founded the Shaolin Zen Sect.
For her to give such a rare, peerless treasure to Jeong Yeon-shin instead of keeping it for herself? It was an act that defied all logic.
‘There seems to be no other way to interpret this.’
The boy thought.
The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult. While constantly asking him to create a divine art for her, she had even handed over the manifestation treasure. She prioritized the perfection of martial arts over raw power. It was the attitude of a true seeker, entirely devoted to the martial path.
Was she truly a noble of the Blood Flame Cult, a group that routinely practiced arts like essence absorption? He didn't know. The entire situation was riddled with questions.
It was said that one must maintain a clear and upright attitude when dealing with the gratitude and grudges of the Jianghu. The favor and the grudge were both distinct. What was he to do?
“Um… Young Hero.”
The voice was cautious.
Looking up, he saw a short boy beside him. It was the Poison Dragon, Tang Yeo-hwa. Right next to him walked the Poison Phoenix, Tang Ryeo-ryeo.
Yeo-hwa was fidgeting with the short hair on the back of his neck, his hesitant demeanor a complete reversal from when they had first met. It was a side of him Jeong Yeon-shin had never seen before. Both siblings were acting the same way.
The boy stared at them blankly. “What is it?”
“Uh, Young Hero. No, Great Hero. I mean…” Tang Yeo-hwa stammered. It was likely because he had witnessed Yeon-shin utterly defeat the Sword Scorpion Demon and the Pure Demon God Hand. Extreme caution colored his words and posture. His eyes, stealing glances upward, seemed filled with admiration.
Watching from the side, Tang Ryeo-ryeo furrowed her brow in disapproval. Yet, even as she took a light step forward, she couldn’t meet Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze either. She merely mumbled, “Young Master Jeong. Why don’t you and the members of the Desolate Fortress come to our main estate? If you require physicians, there are few places in Sichuan better than the Tang Clan. It is also the closest.”
The Sichuan Tang Clan was a martial family of poison and hidden weapons. In the Jianghu, any prestigious family that mastered the poison arts was bound to be highly proficient in medicine as well. No divine doctor in the world could ever separate poison from medicine.
“The Tang Clan? Can we trust them?” Heonwon Chang suddenly chimed in. His suspicion stemmed from the Demonlight Wing's mission to investigate whether the Tang Clan was manufacturing Thunderbolt Bombs. Since they were suspected of being rebels, he was concerned they might be walking straight into a tiger’s den.
However, the decision lay with Ma Jin.
Jeong Yeon-shin held out some stone fragments before his maternal uncle’s eyes. The way they swirled under the influence of the absorption and release formulas was bizarre. A look of sheer astonishment washed over Ma Jin's scarred face. As the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, his knowledge of the Jianghu was vast. He immediately recognized the introductory technique of the Myriad Blossoms Rain.
“Right. I suppose such things can happen…” Letting out a dry laugh, Ma Jin spoke. “Then we can simply summon the Tang Clan to the Desolate Fortress's Sichuan Branch. Entering the Tang Family Pagoda directly is too risky. Given our current state, there’s no telling what kind of mechanism formations and poison arrays might be lying in wait.”
Ma Jin's expression turned bitter as he glanced down at his empty left shoulder and then at his subordinates.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded silently and looked back at the Tang siblings.
“…”
He was treating the masters of the Tang Clan, who looked down upon the vast province of Sichuan, as mere physicians. Yet, the siblings could say nothing in protest. They were standing face-to-face with an overwhelmingly powerful master who held the secret to the Myriad Blossoms Rain.
The rain of flowers filling the sky was the long-cherished dream of the Tang Clan. No master would let their pride get in the way of a divine art that symbolized the legitimacy of their martial lineage.
They had no choice but to accept Ma Jin's request. Tang Yeo-hwa and Tang Ryeo-ryeo chattered, casting cautious glances at Jeong Yeon-shin.
“They will probably pack up every medicine and poison they have and rush over. It has been the lifelong wish of our elders…”
“You can rest assured, Young Master Jeong. The Tang Clan would never play tricks when confronted with our family's peerless secret art. We also draw a clear line between gratitude and grudges. We will treat you with the utmost respect, in perfect accordance with the morals and laws of the Jianghu.”
Jeong Yeon-shin thanked them. Before he knew it, his gaze drifted backward. A middle-aged Blue-Ranked expert, who had lost her left arm, was smiling at him.
It was Oh Wol-hyang. She was his senior in the Demonlight Wing, a woman who had treated him like her own son.
“Unfurrow your brow, our Yeon-shin. If you look so grim, people won’t follow you. Even if you’re as handsome as Song Ok of Chu, you won’t become a great leader that way. You’re looking at the Black Rank now, aren’t you?”
“…Senior Oh.”
“Don’t look so sad. You’re a boy who will soon grow into a fine, upstanding man.”
Approaching from behind, Oh Wol-hyang stroked the back of Jeong Yeon-shin's head with her remaining hand. Though her palm was covered in thick calluses, it felt incredibly gentle. It was the warmth of the Demonlight Wing.
“Father will be coming in person. I must prepare a human skin mask,” the Tang Clan Leader, who had been watching the siblings in silence from a distance, muttered to himself. He was referring to the Supreme Elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
At that moment, a smooth voice tickled Jeong Yeon-shin's mind.
— Be careful of the Cult Leader, my grand yet young Preceptor.
The Seventh Apostle's voice transmission echoed briefly before vanishing. Her tone was peculiar—worried when she mentioned the Cult Leader, but amused when she called him “grand yet young.”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t bother trying to search for her. His halo had already informed him. It was a transmission sent from just outside his sense of Qi, like the cry of a bat.
‘I need to focus on accumulating Qi.’
The boy thought, turning the Seventh Apostle's words over in his mind.
* * *
East of Sichuan Province, at the Giju Branch of the Desolate Fortress.
A man stood atop the roof of a pavilion, looking out over the city with his hands clasped behind his back. Clad in a blue martial uniform, he seemed to enjoy the sensation of his fluttering sleeves. His attire, embroidered with the character ‘Hwang’ in black, was an object of admiration even from afar.
A group of children walking down the street with sweet pastries in their mouths stared up at him blankly.
‘I hope nothing goes wrong.’
The sole Blue-Ranked expert of the Giju Branch, Jang Il-do, did not spare them a glance. He was the Branch Head. He accommodated the experts of the Divine Sword Corps' 17th Unit who had come from the main fortress and looked after the local populace with his branch’s own strength.
When it came to the Pagoda-Supporting Sword, Jang Il-do, every sect in Sichuan's Giju Prefecture treated him with the utmost courtesy. Sect leaders would often rush out barefoot to greet him. This was true even though the strength of the Giju Branch fell far short of the main fortress's martial units. With the Desolate Fortress backing him, it was only natural.
‘But things have been feeling strange lately.’
Recently, the attitude of various martial sects in the Jianghu had undergone a bizarre shift. It likely started after rumors spread that the direct line of the Namgung Clan had been annihilated by a rising star of the Desolate Fortress and the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. Or perhaps it was after the extermination of the Hwangbo Clan.
It wasn't something Jang Il-do could do anything about right now. Born in Sichuan, he was content with his life as a Blue-Ranked warrior of the Desolate Fortress. He had been living peacefully, satisfied with his lot, so he was utterly shocked when the main fortress's experts, including the Demonlight Wing, suddenly burst in. Hardly any of them were uninjured. It was also astonishing to see a crowd of rare Ironfolk following them.
‘The main building has become a complete mess.’
As he practically fled the scene, he had instructed his servants and subordinates to serve them with the utmost care. After sending a messenger to the Sichuan Tang Clan to request physicians, he felt a bit tense. He was now hosting the masters of Sichuan's greatest family and the warriors of the main fortress at the same time. It was an incredibly troublesome situation.
Yet, the reason he was standing alone on the sloping roof was different. A letter had arrived from the main fortress.
— The Jianghu is in chaos, so I have donned my purple robe. The Giju Branch Head shall prepare to receive the former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. Furthermore, remain highly vigilant against the Tang Clan and the rabble of the Thirteen Heavens.
His nerves had been on edge ever since he read those words. A forgotten legend was coming in person. Today was the day.
Even with the main fortress's experts, the Ironfolk, the direct descendants of the Tang Clan, and the successor of the Beggar Sect gathered in the pavilions below, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was extremely curious about the boy known as the Flash Art, but now was not the time.
Jang Il-do bit his lip anxiously, an attitude he hadn't shown even when facing the Commander of the Demonlight Wing or the Supreme Elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
This morning.
He stood on the highest roof as the pure white sunlight settled upon it, stepping on its brilliance. He was here to welcome the man who was once the second most honorable figure in the Jianghu.
Was it his imagination? A terrifying energy seemed to emanate from the road stretching beneath the clear sky, despite how exceptionally bright the day was.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ugh…!”
Jang Il-do's body stiffened. He tried to draw his sword, only to find himself completely suppressed. A dull ache spread across the back of his neck a moment too late. He could only roll his eyes.
An old man was suddenly standing beside him.
His straight, well-groomed beard hung down to his solar plexus, white as snow. The purple robe draped over his robust frame featured a stiff, upright collar, which suited the old man's sturdy and sharp impression perfectly.
“Is all well with the branch?” Ma Yeon-jeok asked slowly. A brilliant light flashed in his pitch-black eyes. It felt as though he was fully capable of concealing his energy, yet simply chose not to bother.
Jang Il-do looked him up and down. Cold sweat trickled down his neck.
An untouchable figure had finally arrived at his branch. The sheer martial prowess radiating from him was overwhelming. Combined with his past renown, it felt like facing an irresistible storm.
A Purple-Ranked expert of the Desolate Fortress had arrived in Sichuan. And this was before the great sects of Sichuan had even made their move.
* * *
“Step down from your position beside the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. It seems you must return to the main family,” Ma Yeon-jeok said. He was in a room with Jeong Yeon-shin and Ma Jin. A subtle aroma of tea drifted through the cozy space.
Sitting before a wooden tea table, Ma Yeon-jeok spoke once more. “You did well to annihilate the rabble of the Tenth Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance. However, we cannot afford a vacuum in our forces. The Demonlight Wing must maintain the martial lineage of the Demonlight Formula, but it is only right that it be reorganized.”
“The master craftsmen of the Ironfolk have offered to make a prosthetic arm. A divine weapon that responds to internal energy,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied quietly.
For the first time, Ma Yeon-jeok's brow furrowed. Unable to bring himself to scold his grandson, he turned to Ma Jin and roared, “You have lost your left hand! This means the acupoints of the Hand Taiyin Lung Meridian, which stretched from your arm to your entire body, have been completely destroyed. It will have a profound impact on the circulation of your energy. How long do you think it will take to recover the control over your internal energy that you had before? The situation in the Central Plains' Jianghu is highly unstable. Rather than clumsily remaining as a Unit Commander, is it not more sensible to focus entirely on your rehabilitation?”
“…”
Ma Jin did not argue. He merely closed his eyes with a heavy expression. Ma Yeon-jeok's face did not look pleased either.
Silence hung in the air for so long that the aroma rising from the teacups felt loud.
Slowly, Jeong Yeon-shin reached into his robes. He pulled out a small book, its paper worn and ancient.
Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
The handwriting was messy, as if written by a child. The small booklet gently pushed aside the three teacups on the table.
“I believe this will be of help to my uncle, as well as to you, Grandfather,” Jeong Yeon-shin said. “It is a good martial art for preserving the body. Since I was planning to donate it to claim merits anyway, it matters little if the two of you look at it first.”
“…!”
Both Ma Yeon-jeok and Ma Jin realized that his words were not entirely true. Their long years of experience in the Jianghu told them so. He wasn't showing it to them just because he was donating it; it was quite the opposite.
Ma Jin slowly parted his lips. “Is this not the martial art that laid your foundation?”
“Yes. I am confident in its efficacy.”
Ma Jin groaned at his nephew's reply. While Ma Yeon-jeok's eyes widened, Ma Jin forced himself to continue. “This is immense. Combined with your martial prowess and your achievements so far… it is enough to elevate you to the Black Rank. Even without accumulating any additional merits.”
“It won't be too late to discuss that after you have read the manual. I shall take my leave now. The intent of the mnemonic resembles a diary entry.”
He spoke stiffly to hide his embarrassment. With that, the boy abruptly stood, opened the door, and walked out.
Watching him leave, Ma Jin opened the first page of the manual with his one hand. Ma Yeon-jeok's shoulder brushed against his. Before he knew it, the old man had shamelessly slid over to sit right next to him.
The eyes of both men scanned the mnemonic of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art. It began with the preface.
[Those who sleep are dead, for they have forgotten life.
If the True Qi accumulated through breathing falls into a deep sleep, then one's internal energy will wither as well. I cannot understand this.
Stagnation is death. Why stop the circulation of energy? The internal energy within the meridians of the entire body must move without cease.
From the dantian to the Foot Jueyin Liver Meridian, it must form an infinitely circulating circle.
Only then does True Qi become like a mother.
Even if I cannot see it, even if I am asleep and cannot feel it, it envelops my entire body. It holds me in an incredibly warm embrace, so that there is no need to seek warmth from the outside.
When one caresses the Qihai Point of the lower dantian with the intent of a mother, the True Qi that has swept through the entire body returns to the Mingmen Point on the back.
In the meantime, it vigorously strengthens the bones and muscles and firmly massages the acupoints. Because it moves without rest, it is a Dynamic Cultivation Art.
One must guide the True Qi with this mindset for it to be effective.]
No matter how much I resent them, I am still a Jeong. Though I never met her, I did have a mother, and she must be looking down from the heavens. After all, she was the one who chose the Jeong Family Manor. This is why it must be called the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.]
"..."
A heavy silence descended, erasing even the gentle aroma of the tea. For a long time, neither of them could utter a single word.