Chapter 125: Samadhi True Fire (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 125: Samadhi True Fire (5)
This was a world ruled by blade and sword.
The front gate of the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch had always been a bustling place, drawing a diverse crowd. Merchant groups sought stable trade with martial arts experts, commoners came to appeal their grievances to the Desolate Fortress instead of the corrupt local government, and drifters lingered in hopes of learning even a single stance of some profound martial art.
The broad avenue, stretching wide in all directions, was never quiet.
Today was no different, though the nature of the crowd had changed.
Those who usually frequented the street had retreated to the sides, watching the newcomers with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.
“That group over there is from the Tenth Sect,” one onlooker muttered. He was a merchant of dignified appearance, dressed in yellow silk.
A merchant with fine attire and years of experience was usually well-versed in the news of the Jianghu. To them, a Murim sect was a goldmine where massive amounts of goods and resources flowed. Beyond martial uniforms, weapons, and foodstuffs, the sects constantly expended immense power that affected the lives of the common people—whether through acts of chivalry or banditry.
Merchants had no choice but to be sensitive to the affairs of the Jianghu, especially during lean years like these.
“The one in the lead… he is truly formidable. The Ominous Sword himself has come. Light-green light armor, dual swords, thin handguards… and that sharp-featured face. It's definitely him.”
“Do you mean the brother of the Tenth Sect's Sword Scorpion Demon?” the man beside him asked.
The merchant nodded.
“Indeed. They are sworn brothers, not bound by blood. But it is said their swordplay is so evenly matched that it’s impossible to tell who is superior.”
“That is high praise.”
“Of course, that was likely a tale spread by the Sword Scorpion Demon Dokgo Gwang to elevate his sworn brother's reputation, but…”
“But by now, isn't the Ominous Sword's reputation second only to the Sword Scorpion Demon’s? He made a name for himself against the Qingcheng and Emei Sects. And there’s that story of him showing off the Tenth Sect's flying dagger technique right in front of the experts of the Nine Sects and the Tang Clan. I heard he split the cups they were holding clean in half.”
“That was just a show of force against some rising stars. It would have been impossible against the mid-level experts of the Tang Clan.”
“It seems you have some connection to the Tang Clan, brother?” the man asked playfully.
The Tang Clan Leader, hidden behind a human skin mask, did not answer. He silently watched the group of people approaching from the opposite side.
If they continued straight, they would arrive at the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch.
A young man's voice was the first to be heard.
“Bong-gong, it seems we should be on our guard. Considering the experts from our sect and the Pure Demon Alliance who entered the City of Master Craftsmen…”
This group approached from the western path of the Giju Branch. There were about twenty of them, armed with swords, clubs, and whips. The people on the street hurriedly cleared a path, their faces etched with fear—a sight the warriors seemed very accustomed to.
It showed in their very steps. A calm yet solid presence emanated from every single one of them.
The young man who had spoken, a crescent blade on his back and a precious sword at his waist, spoke again.
“Uncle Dokgo and the Pure Demon God Hand were there. The Giju Branch itself is insignificant, but we cannot underestimate the support forces from the Desolate Fortress's main fortress. Didn't they escape the City of Master Craftsmen because they possessed a force comparable to the Demonlight Wing? We must assume there is an unknown expert among them.”
“…”
The man called Bong-gong did not answer. He was a middle-aged man who wore his calmness like armor. His light-green, sleeveless martial uniform, which revealed his muscular arms, was striking. He wore dual swords on either side of his waist, and the hilts of three daggers peeked out from behind his back. Despite being heavily armed, he exuded a clean and refined aura.
“I am not underestimating them,” the Tenth Sect's Bong-gong, the Ominous Sword Gal Sa-ryang, said slowly. “It is enough to fulfill our duty. Since the Sect Leader has entrusted me with full authority, I have naturally honed my true qi to repay his trust. I need only rely on my training and display my martial arts.”
It was then.
“Hey—!”
A rough shout, like that of a street thug, vibrated through the air. It was as if a giant lion had roared—a heavy, approaching force, carrying an immense amount of internal energy.
Directly opposite them.
Unlike the Tenth Sect, this group numbered only about ten. Yet, the momentum of their confident stride was tremendous. If a wall stood in their way, they seemed ready to smash through it rather than go around. The very way their aura struck the air was utterly tyrannical.
The Pure Demon Alliance.
The man in the lead had a distinct appearance. His disheveled, light-brown hair resembled a lion's mane. He had thrown a dark-colored shoulder cape over his bare, scar-covered torso, revealing muscles carved like stone. His build was massive, easily eight feet tall. On his back, he carried a giant saber so large it could be mistaken for a pillar. Anyone could see he was a master of both internal and external martial arts. He was the Blade-Fist Demon of the Thirteen Heavens.
The blue eyes characteristic of the Westerners in the Pure Demon Alliance flashed.
“Isn't that the swordsman of the Deficient Sect?” he asked with a smirk. He twisted the name of the Tenth Sect—a name that meant absolute perfection—into a mocking insult. It was a derogatory term that even most top-tier experts would hesitate to utter.
The Ominous Sword Gal Sa-ryang nodded calmly.
“Senior Blade-Fist Demon, you still look quite healthy. Is it thanks to the demise of the Pure Demon God Hand?”
“A pity, that.”
“Truly?”
“I am pleased that one bastard who coveted the seat of the next Alliance Leader has fallen, but the opportunity to personally shatter his Fourteen Palms of Mist Service is gone. How could I not find that a pity? I only hope the Desolate Fortress bastard who broke the God Hand's arm isn't some groveling coward. I wonder who it is. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing, perhaps?”
His voice overflowed with power. Gal Sa-ryang shook his head.
“Did you not come here to accumulate achievements? If you truly believed the expert who faced two great sects alongside the Commander of the Demonlight Wing was completely unharmed, you wouldn't have come, Senior.”
“Your petty insight is laughable. But it is somewhat accurate.” The Blade-Fist Demon laughed. “You know this seat quite well.”
“It is easy to deduce. It would be impossible for anyone less than a Purple-Ranked Expert, and does the Desolate Fortress have the luxury of sending a Purple Rank all the way to Sichuan?”
His tone was strange. After those words, Gal Sa-ryang fell silent.
Before they knew it, the groups from the Tenth Sect and the Pure Demon Alliance were facing each other, the main gate of the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch just off to the side. They had arrived at the same time as if by appointment, having clearly adjusted their pace to match one another.
“The Tang Clan is here too. I wonder what those insidious bastards are aiming for.” The corners of the Blade-Fist Demon's mouth curled into a sinister smile. He could feel the presences hiding on the path leading from the main gate—the unique stealth technique of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
It was extremely profound, but Gal Sa-ryang and the Blade-Fist Demon were top-tier experts, men who could act like kings in Sichuan Province. Unless it was the Tang Clan Leader himself, no one could deceive their sense of qi.
Gal Sa-ryang spoke. “I do not think they will be a threat. The Sichuan Tang Clan is already compromised. I heard they are licking the boots of the Blood Flame Cult Leader, so if push comes to shove, they will help us. Is not the destruction of the Desolate Fortress the wish of the entire Jianghu?”
“Unless they are the bald monks or the pin-headed Taoists of the Nine Sects, that is,” the young man escorting the Ominous Sword replied, his cynical tone laced with confidence.
“…”
The hundreds of onlookers had fallen silent. Commoners pressed themselves tightly against the walls, rogue cultivators stood tall on the roofs of pavilions, and some Murim practitioners clung to railings like spiders using the Gecko Technique.
The only ones making any sound were the experts of the Thirteen Heavens. They stood at the peak of the Murim, where the strong ruled. Such was the status of warriors from the great sects that rivaled the Nine Sects—more than enough to suppress every onlooker gathered there.
The Pure Demon Alliance experts in their dark shoulder capes laughed, seeming to relish the silence. This was the essence of martial arts training: to raise one's realm and feel one's own existence, to pursue a presence and power that exerted an overwhelming influence on others. In that regard, the Thirteen Heavens were ruthless, which was why they were called the heterodox sects.
Meanwhile, the warriors of the Tenth Sect appeared nonchalant, as if they had just stepped out for a stroll.
“Let us begin,” Gal Sa-ryang said.
The air around the neck of the young man beside him seemed to shimmer. Gathering a tremendous wave of internal energy, he shouted, “Show yourselves, watchdogs of the Imperial Family!”
A brief silence followed. The experts waited.
Rather than invading and slaughtering everyone in sight, they wanted to tarnish the Desolate Fortress's prestige in front of the crowd. They had lost elite teams from their respective sects. To save face, the great sects of the heterodox path had to trample the Desolate Fortress underfoot.
“I wonder if there's anyone left in one piece. It won’t be any fun if it’s too boring,” the Blade-Fist Demon said.
The young man from the Tenth Sect snorted inwardly. To think a bear-like bastard who came here for that very reason is trying to save face. Shallow.
It was then.
Creeeak—
The main gate of the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch moved. The loud, grating sound carried a strange calmness. The large door opened just a crack, and a boy revealed himself from the gap.
Amidst the heavy silence pressing down on the avenue, a young swordsman in a robe of woven ebony walked out. The sleeves of his black robe were of different lengths; one side had been torn off. He wore two swords at his waist, a sight that suited him strangely well.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.
“You.”
His gaze was fixed on one man: the Blade-Fist Demon of the Pure Demon Alliance. With his massive build, he was impossible to miss.
The boy calmly continued, “Your aura is the same as the demonic soldiers I met before. There was also a bastard called the Pure Demon God Hand. Have you come for revenge?”
“Child, is your status worthy of uttering the God Hand's title?” the Blade-Fist Demon asked, a hollow laugh on his lips.
Even so, he didn't let his guard down. Before anyone noticed, his right foot had already slid forward into a ready stance. The body of a top-tier expert, a rarity even in Sichuan, had reacted instinctively. He had felt something strange from the boy before him.
“Status?” Jeong Yeon-shin's head tilted slightly. A sly look crossed his face, his lips curling into a faint arc. It was a clear provocation.
The corners of the Blade-Fist Demon's mouth curled up. “The Desolate Fortress must truly be lacking in people. Your aura is unusual, so I can tell you are a fairly outstanding rising star. But qualification is another matter. Can you step forward alone and discuss the affairs of sects with us? And wearing such an absurdly black robe, no less.”
He had already used his expert eye technique to discern the character 'Hwang' roughly embroidered on the black robe. It was laughable. Though strange things littered the Jianghu, they were all ultimately bound by common sense. Even if this boy were a Blue-Ranked Expert at his age, it would be astonishing. The Black Rank was out of the question—a thought as absurd as an object floating in the air on its own.
“Discussing the affairs of sects? Didn't you come here to wage war?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked quietly.
Boisterous laughter erupted from the Pure Demon Alliance members, who were drunk on their demonic true qi.
The Blade-Fist Demon's expression, however, sank. As the boy before him breathed, the flow of his internal energy became clearer. It was a quality that only a top-tier expert could sense—the energy of a divine art.
The Blade-Fist Demon spoke calmly. “You seem ignorant of the ways of the world's great sects. If we waged all-out war at every turn, a thousand years wouldn't be enough to accumulate our power. That is why duel agreements exist in the Jianghu.”
“Does that mean if I beat you to death, the Pure Demon Alliance will withdraw?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
A faint smile formed on the Blade-Fist Demon's lips. “Is this truly a matter you can discuss? It seems this really is a sect of dogs raised by the Imperial Family. How lacking in people you must be.” He returned the provocation, his words dripping with hostility.
This was the world of martial artists, where one would do anything to slit an opponent's throat.
A cold wind swept through the streets and began to howl, feeling extremely dry. The onlookers, who were already holding their breath, felt their chests tighten.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke again, caressing the tattered edge of his pitch-black sleeve with his other hand.
“I said something similar to the one called the Pure Demon God Hand.”
“You speak of the God Hand again. Spit it out.”
“That a dead man's tongue is long,” the boy said.