Chapter 124: Samadhi True Fire (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 124: Samadhi True Fire (4)
The Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
The book was slightly larger than an adult’s palm. Its worn pages, stained by countless hands, turned one by one.
Finally, Ma Jin placed the manual back on the tea table, not even having finished it.
Though the book’s pages trembled slightly in his grip, Ma Yeon-jeok remained still, not blaming his son for his reaction.
It was impossible to tell whether it was his own hands shaking or his son’s. He didn’t even want to know.
“…This is the martial art created by Sang-ah’s child.”
The short name felt rough on his tongue. It was a childhood name that rolled awkwardly from his mouth.
Ma Yeon-sang.
It was his daughter's name. A face he had spent long years trying to forget rose in his mind.
She had passed down her large, clear eyes—eyes she had possessed since childhood—to her son, Jeong Yeon-shin.
Perhaps it was because he had been too focused on cutting down the wicked martial artists of the world.
As the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, busy racing across the vast lands of the Central Plains, Ma Yeon-jeok had always assumed his daughter’s temperament was simply gentle. He had only occasionally worried what Ma Yeon-sang’s life would be like once she became the lady of a household.
It had been a pointless worry.
Having grown up during the years Ma Yeon-jeok had failed to witness, his daughter had become bold. She had been utterly captivated by a layabout who indulged in romantic, flashy affectations. She had fallen so deeply for him that she went as far as to reject the arranged marriage that was a long-standing family tradition.
Ma Yeon-jeok had been appalled.
While reprimanding the family elders who had allowed his daughter to travel all the way to Henan Province, he ordered that the worthless head of the Jeong Family be brought before him immediately.
He could not believe it. How could the precious daughter of the Desolate Ma Clan fall for such a scoundrel?
—My name is Jeong Pan-ak.
When they finally met, his looks were the only thing he had going for him. His features were exceptionally handsome, and he exuded the relaxed air of a country bumpkin who knew nothing of the world.
Even the alias he proudly used was “Ban-ak.” According to reports gathered by mobilizing the family’s secret lines, the Beggar Sect, and the Hao Sect, he was a man highly skilled at seducing women. As the heir to a wealthy landowner in Xinye County, he held titles like “Romantic Young Master” and “Flower Playboy.”
—You shameless bastard!
Even after being insulted as a scoundrel who wouldn’t recognize his own parents, the man simply bowed his head in silence, a pitiful sight. Ma Yeon-jeok had wanted to strike him dead with a single palm. His hand had truly been on the verge of releasing fa jin.
—Father…!
Only after catching sight of his daughter's tearful face did he manage, with great effort, to suppress his true qi.
That day, he had been lost in deep contemplation. As a clan head. As a father.
Ma Yeon-jeok remembered it vividly. He murmured with trembling lips, “The heaven-ordained destiny of the Ma Clan is but one.”
“To assist the Lord of the Fortress and establish the banner of order for the people of the world… I’ve had that drilled into my head since childhood. It’s clearer than the mnemonics of our family's martial arts.”
Ma Jin acknowledged his father’s regretful words.
Ma Yeon-jeok nodded.
He had upheld that honorable and noble heavenly mandate like a treasured sword. He had done so his entire life.
The people of the Jianghu were a breed who drew their swords at a moment’s notice. They accumulated power the common people could not resist, brandishing their petty convictions with sword strikes while dressing it up in terms like “martial arts” or “chivalry.”
Uncontrollable martial force was a venomous insect that would ruin the nation.
It had to be crushed, but the world was vast, and they were numerous and strong. Thus, the marital alliances of the Desolate Fortress’s martial clans were an absolute necessity.
He had tried to persuade his daughter for a long time.
—His skeletal structure is terrible. His comprehension doesn’t seem promising, either. He even shows the stubbornness typical of the ignorant and worldly. Sang-ah, must it truly be him?
Ma Yeon-sang had replied that it must.
Those words sealed her fate.
The bloodline of a prestigious martial clan like the Ma Clan must not be joined with just anyone. Lineages with proven martial talent had to marry each other to keep the future martial world in check. This was the grand cause one had to follow if they lived under the protection of the Main Fortress. It was to stably raise experts who would protect the common people.
Ma Yeon-jeok had made his decision, swallowing his sorrow and disappointment.
—Leave. Go, and do not return. The traditions of our clan are solemn. A single misplaced stone can bring down a sturdy fortress. Thus, the only way I can wish for your happiness is through severance. The food, clothing, pavilions, and beds of the Ma Clan that you have enjoyed were the price and stipend given to protect the people of the world. Now that you have abandoned your duty of your own accord, how can I treat you as kin in the place where our ancestors' tablets reside?
—Father…
The nobility of a prestigious family stems from upholding its duties and their costs. Ma Yeon-sang's love was an unacceptable deviation.
He could not bring himself to kill the man his daughter loved. Forcing them apart felt equally cruel.
So, he let her go. He severed all ties completely. If she remained connected under the Ma name, she would become an exception to the law, destroying the clan's discipline, built over more than a century.
—Clan Head! Does this make any sense? Are you really going to turn away the matchmaker sent by the Shin Clan like this?
An arranged marriage had originally been set. While granting his daughter her freedom, Ma Yeon-jeok had to endure the fierce criticism of the Ma Clan's Elder's Council.
It is fine, he had thought. He believed he had bestowed one last gift as a father.
That was the end of it. He never sought his daughter out again.
They said that to govern the world peacefully, one must first cultivate oneself and regulate one's family. For the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, regulating his family meant severing ties with his daughter.
That was what governing a household meant to the warrior Ma Yeon-jeok.
The old expert in purple robes slowly opened his lips. “I have spent my entire life beside the Brightfolk experts… a noble and exceptionally gifted clan of ancient times. Talent, for the most part, is bound to stem from lineage. We could not stake the clan's destiny on a threadbare exception, could we? If one desires to be an anomaly, it is only right to sever ties with the clan. I needed to set an example.”
That was also why he had made no effort to seek out his grandson. He could not allow a precedent to be set.
Yet paradoxically, as of today, that decision had become meaningless.
Anyone who knew Jeong Yeon-shin would think so.
“The world cares only for results. They will look upon our family as a pack of fools,” Ma Jin said, his voice laced with self-deprecation. In the end, he too had gone along with Ma Yeon-jeok's decision, believing it was for his sister's sake and to preserve the clan's honor.
“Indeed. Sixteen years have returned as karma.”
Ma Yeon-jeok's lips trembled. The trembling grew more pronounced as he turned the pages of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
The introduction of the manual was a blade piercing the peerless expert’s heart.
Ultimately, the affairs of the Jianghu were as fleeting and unpredictable as the thin wisps of steam dispersing from the teacups on the table.
The father and son of the Ma Clan were experts who had reached the realm where their internal energy assimilated with their intent. The waves of energy spreading from their minds caused the steam above the teacups to ripple.
These rare experts of the world scanned the words of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art, their eyes shining with heavy intensity.
Rustle.
The hand turning the page was careful. This time, it was Ma Yeon-jeok.
His gaze remained fixed on the mnemonics of the manual, the regret lingering at his fingertips profound.
Finally, the two finished reading. A silence of a different nature than before filled the room—one that was dense and thick with utter astonishment.
“This is…” the old man slowly began. “It is truly a divine art.”
“…One can tell just by looking at the mnemonics.”
“This is not a martial art we have any right to bestow. Even if we were to practice it, having received boundless grace from Yeon-shin, it is far too precious to be widely shared. It is a divine art that must be kept secret.”
Ma Yeon-jeok slowly stood up.
In the most luxurious room of the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch, he took faltering steps, paying no heed to the priceless antiques and carvings around him.
Night had fallen before they knew it.
The moonlight filtering softly through the window cast a curved shadow over his wrinkled mouth. It was a self-deprecating smile.
“I never imagined this old man would have his eyes opened by a martial arts manual.”
His tone was unusually calm. Now, only the faint remnants of surprise and sorrow lingered, accompanied by a transcendent laugh, as if he had realized something profound.
* * *
Half a month had passed since they left the City of Master Craftsmen.
Ma Yeon-jeok's aura changed day by day. It was a daily renewal; his complexion grew fresher with each passing day, and his already formidable presence surged even more powerfully.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt it clearly while instructing the Purple and Black Rank experts. Now, he occasionally had the illusion that the very air around Ma Yeon-jeok shimmered like a summer heat haze.
It was said to be a realm where one could discuss martial arts with the Sect Leaders of the Nine Sects. All flows return to the source.
Did reaching the so-called peerless realm allow one to so rapidly grasp the profound truths of an unfamiliar martial art? For the first time, the boy was astonished by another's achievement.
Conversely, Ma Yeon-jeok could only marvel, calling it a dynamic art more intuitive and rapid than Shaolin's Muscle Tendon Changing Classic.
“Uncle, your progress is lagging far behind,” Jeong Yeon-shin joked.
Ma Jin chuckled softly and patted his nephew's shoulder.
His left sleeve still hung empty.
Behind the massive gates of the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch, a cool breeze brushed against Jeong Yeon-shin's blue robe. The hem now reached the back of his knees. When he had first been promoted to the Blue Rank, it had been long enough to cover his ankles.
“I hope this ends quickly,” the boy muttered.
Perhaps because it was fully infused with the pure energy of the Law-Transcending Halo Qi, the long blue robe draping from his shoulders seemed to radiate absolute readiness, despite the tears and bloodstains scattered across the fabric.
At his waist, both the Desolate Fortress Sword and the Northern Light Sword were fastened. Anyone could see he was heading into battle.
“Can you truly handle this alone?”
“You've asked me that more than a dozen times.”
Such was the exchange between uncle and nephew.
They had annihilated two elite groups from the great sects of the Thirteen Heavens. It was an achievement difficult to attain with the strength of the Demonlight Wing and the Radiant Wing Unit alone. Naturally, the casualties had been immense.
Even Cheong-myeong and Baek Mi-ryeo had suffered sword wounds. Not a single senior was unscathed. The uninjured were few, and it was only right for the intact experts, like the Lazy Flame Dragon and White Qilin, to guard the pavilions. After all, the enemy martial artists were not gentlemen who would only enter through the front gate.
Clang! Clang!
Vigorous hammering echoed faintly from the small forge inside. The Ironfolk from the City of Master Craftsmen had gathered there, lighting a massive fire in the hearth and striking hammers against anvils. They were crafting the Ironfolk's unique divine weaponry, including internal energy prosthetic arms and legs.
“And you can’t show yourself either, Uncle.”
“…Indeed. Why would I give anyone the satisfaction of seeing the Commander of the Demonlight Wing missing an arm?”
“I should head out now.”
Jeong Yeon-shin felt a powerful presence in the distance. It was not just one or two. The momentum of those approaching, as if to crush the city from both sides, was formidable.
It was bound to happen, the boy thought.
The two elite groups sent by the Thirteen Heavens to the City of Master Craftsmen had vanished. Conversely, the Demonlight Wing, which had been out of contact, had returned to the Giju Branch. Half a month was plenty of time for great sects like the Tenth Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance to deduce what had happened.
The Blood Flame Cult could not be overlooked either, as the Seventh Apostle had revealed herself in the City of Master Craftsmen.
Three factions of the Thirteen Heavens were involved.
There was also the Tang Clan. Though they had only sent physicians without a word of explanation, they would not maintain their ambiguous attitude forever.
At this point, this was the center of the Jianghu.
From now on, every event would be on the lips of the world's martial artists. Those had been Heonwon Chang's words.
It feels like needles.
Although Ma Jin was the only one who had come to see him off, the sensory perceptions pricking his skin were far more numerous. These were the Desolate Fortress experts—Lazy Flame Dragon, Namgung Hwa-shin, Heonwon Chang, Red-Day Sword—honing their senses on the outside, ready to burst out at any moment.
And he knew they would. There was a specific reason Jeong Yeon-shin was heading out alone. It was not just because he had completely healed his internal injuries. With Ma Yeon-jeok currently away after sensing a massive, sinister energy, it was to show that the Desolate Fortress remained strong and unshaken.
Sichuan was just that dangerous. They were an injured tiger bristling its fur amidst a pack of wolves. This was a strategy to create room for negotiation rather than a fight to the death. To save face before the martial artists of the Jianghu, an extraordinary display was required.
All I have to do is display my martial prowess.
The boy closed his eyes once, then opened them.
“Show yourselves, hunting dogs of the Imperial Court!”
The internal power carried by the booming voice was immense.
Before he knew it, they were right outside. The waves of energy gathering beyond the gates were formidable. Was it the Tenth Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance? The combined presence pressing in from both sides was like a tidal wave.
But was it truly threatening?
Jeong Yeon-shin asked himself.
He didn't know. Not after he had slain the Sword Scorpion Demon and the Pure Demon God Hand. It didn't seem as though the Master of the Thirteen Heavens had personally graced them with his presence, either.
He had no idea how much he could handle alone. Since the pride of the great sect experts would prevent them from launching a joint attack right away, he had to assume a one-on-one duel would come first.
Meanwhile, outside the encirclement, crowds of onlookers, typical of any such gathering, stood in layers. Jeong Yeon-shin could clearly perceive their voices and faint presences.
“I had my doubts, but the great sects are truly going to have a massive clash!”
“Will the Desolate Fortress be forced to withdraw from Sichuan?”
“Will it end there? The martial artists from the Main Fortress in Xiangyang will march down. That's the real problem.”
“Either way, there's no hope for the Giju Branch.”
They were the common people, though there seemed to be local martial artists among them as well. Everyone had gathered to watch a battle rarely seen in the Jianghu. It was a world with few forms of entertainment. If they could witness the ultimate techniques of experts firsthand, many were willing to cast aside any concern for their own lives.
To them, the martial arts that claimed to govern the world were like the arts of the immortal realm.
“Right now, you represent the Main Fortress,” Ma Jin whispered from behind him.
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly felt a touch on his shoulders.
“I’ll make sure our seniors don't have to drag themselves out of their sickbeds,” the boy said calmly.
In that moment,
Flutter!
A pitch-black fabric draped over him. Despite one of its sleeves being torn at the hem, its appearance remained noble.
The Black Rank robe of the Desolate Fortress wrapped around Jeong Yeon-shin's shoulders.
“I’ll be back.”
When his hands emerged from the pitch-black sleeves, the boy had become an existence that could no longer be dismissed as a mere rising star.