Chapter 129: Blue Flame (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 129: Blue Flame (2)
“Fight using only forms, without internal energy. I will show you that the subtlety of our martial arts is not inferior to that of the Desolate Fortress.”
When So Jin-rang challenged Jeong Yeon-shin to a martial duel, Jeong Yeon-shin readily accepted.
He’d made the decision with the Ominous Sword, Gal Sa-ryang, in mind.
A supreme expert capable of matching a Black Rank of the Desolate Fortress. The Ten Thousand Kinds Mixed Origin Art of the Tenth Sect was said to lack the distinct characteristics of the Heterodox Path.
Was it because he was only at the beginning stages of the Law-Transcending Halo Qi, making victory uncertain? A sharp, prickling sensation warned him—a signal from both his Upper Dantian and his halo. The warning wasn't about So Jin-rang, but about what he should do with that man.
It was then.
“That confidence… As expected of someone born with monstrous talent. I suppose you never had reason to envy the scions of prestigious clans.”
Step.
So Jin-rang took a step forward. Though his expression was indifferent, the aura surrounding him had changed completely.
His presence, honed and calm, approached like the edge of a blade. The glint in his eyes spoke of his mastery.
“I can see why you wear the black robes at such a young age. No matter what martial art you cultivated, you would face no obstacles.”
He spoke as he took one step after another. Since they had agreed not to use internal energy, he didn't stomp the ground to launch himself forward.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood still, waiting for him. He paid no attention to the man’s rambling.
So Jin-rang, the Halberd-Surpassing Sword, approached without minding the silence.
“The Desolate Fortress raised you as a weapon. How many spirit medicines did you consume? How many diverse divine ultimate techniques were you taught? You must have studied all seventeen martial arts of the Divine Sword Corps' 17th Unit, correct?”
“…”
Yeon-shin scanned the man's lower body. His footwork pressed heavily upon the earth.
It seemed to be a habit, constantly holding condensed power in the Yongquan Point beneath his feet; even the simple act of drawing the sword from his waist carried immense weight.
Shring.
The motion of drawing his sword seemed to carry the weight of years.
With a crescent blade slung across his back, So Jin-rang drew a single sword and curled his lips upward.
“I might lose to you in a clash of forms. However, I will instill fear in you with the sheer depth of a prestigious sect's accumulated effort. That will be enough. For you are a great enemy who will one day clash heavily with our sect.”
The man had some nerve, Yeon-shin thought, spouting such embarrassing lines. He quietly raised his sword.
“You scions of prestigious clans…”
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips as he took a step forward.
“…talk too much.”
His grip tightened around the hilt of the Desolate Fortress Sword.
The strength in his grasp felt solid even to him—the raw physical power forged through the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
Even without true qi, it brought him to a state of Sword and Body as One, where his hand and the sword hilt became a single entity.
Thud!
A light step was all it took. The ground firmly supported the sole of his foot.
Even a stomp without internal energy created a heavy resonance that vibrated through his body.
In an instant, he twisted his waist, the Desolate Fortress Sword moving with him as a single unit. Simultaneously, he swung the blade in a horizontal, forward-driving rotation.
The air tore with a sharp shriek. The force of his stomp seemed to spiral upward, channeling directly into the sword strike.
Clang!
He generated Fa Jin without internal energy—the Accumulating Grinding Power, a technique he hadn't used in a long time.
It met and pierced through So Jin-rang's overhead slash. The man's eyes widened.
Ugh—
He was helplessly pushed back by the Desolate Fortress Sword. The strength So Jin-rang poured into both hands was clearly transmitted through the blade.
Yet, the man did not resist. He bent his arms and took a half-step back.
His footwork traced a diagonal line as he retreated. He spun outward with the flat of the blade, which had been pushed so close it nearly grazed the tip of his nose.
Their sleeves brushed as Yeon-shin's shoulder grazed past So Jin-rang's.
'The Harmony Realm, the art of waves. He deflected it exquisitely even without internal energy.'
Jeong Yeon-shin noted internally. This man, too, was a swordsman who wouldn't be hindered by a Thunderbolt Bomb.
He’d felt something the moment their swords clashed. This man had properly polished his swordsmanship. He was different.
These were techniques crafted with painstaking effort over a long time. He had forged both talent and effort into his swordsmanship.
Flutter!
At the end of a rotation that resembled interlocking gears, they clashed once more.
The Desolate Fortress Sword and the unnamed precious sword of the Tenth Sect let out a sharp, ringing chime.
Vibrations traveled up the clashing blades, felt by both men.
'This is…'
Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes narrowed.
It was So Jin-rang's defensive maneuver. He had blocked not with the edge, but with the flat of his blade.
The Desolate Fortress Sword, which had slashed down relentlessly, stopped at the man's shoulder. He had used the blade like a shield.
Halberd-Surpassing Sword.
The three characters in his title meant spear, axe, and sword. His entire moniker was composed of weapons.
The successor of the Tenth Sect. It was said to be a sect that wove internal energy into the Eighteen Weapons, sublimating them into divine arts.
Even without an aura, this level of adaptability and technique proved he had the gall to pick a fight with Jeong Yeon-shin.
“How easy has your life been?”
So Jin-rang whispered. He held up the Desolate Fortress Sword with the flat of his own blade, pressing it against his shoulder.
The spirit of an Unorthodox swordsman shone through; he stood tall even as his legs trembled.
“Flash Art Jeong Yeon-shin.”
“…”
“The martial path of a rising star whom even the Tang Clan Leader calls 'master' must be laughably shallow. It's a flimsy cultivation, like something out of a heroic fantasy. Easily gained, easily discarded. Do you think you will keep climbing forever? I believe you will stop at the threshold of the Peerless Realm, unable to fully open its gates. A bastard like you, who is extraordinary in only one aspect, can never unite Essence, Qi, and Spirit.”
He spat the words like venom.
His Middle Dantian, near his heart, was pounding. His mutter was thick with jealousy.
With their swords still locked, So Jin-rang looked into the boy's eyes, which were now just inches from his own. They were tranquil.
'It has no effect,' So Jin-rang thought. They were largely meaningless words.
They were the kind of insults ruffians spat in a life-or-death brawl.
So Jin-rang didn't care. It was enough to vent his boiling emotions.
The boy before him was the powerhouse who had slain the Blade-Fist Demon of the Pure Demon Alliance.
He had just blocked the sword moves of such a supreme expert quite admirably. He had saved face.
A sweet, melting sensation of satisfaction filled his mind. He had been raised as the precious treasure of an Unorthodox sect.
Even if the Flash Art flew into a rage and cut off his head, he had to say what was on his mind. If he could crush the boy with words alone, that was enough for him.
“They say that when a sword strike, steadily polished for decades, acquires spirituality, it advances into a divine ultimate technique. All the divine arts of the Nine Sects are like that. That is the accumulated effort I spoke of. You… a bastard like you doesn't know the preciousness of time. And you never will.”
He'd managed to hurl some plausible-sounding insults at a supreme expert he couldn't hope to match.
So Jin-rang closed and opened his eyes, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction.
Having relieved his terrible inferiority complex to some extent, he figured it was up to the boy whether he cut his throat now or not.
“…”
Their eyes met. In that instant, So Jin-rang was profoundly shocked—as shocked as he had been the moment the Blade-Fist Demon was slain.
The boy's gaze, which had been as calm as a Shaolin monk's, had shifted.
He saw a smoldering fire reflected in his eyes. Was it a fluctuation of the residual internal energy in the fine vessels of his eyes? A colorless light flickered.
A sliver of madness crossed the face that had maintained its composure as if wearing a mask.
It was a raw emotion disguised by a deep, internal calmness.
Anxiety, unease, fear, hatred, rage.
It was the kind of tension and expression seen only in those haunted by an irresistible force.
It must have been right after he uttered the words "the preciousness of time."
The feeling struck him like a flash of light, passing as quickly as it came, carried on the vibration of the blade.
As a swordsman who had reached a high realm, So Jin-rang felt his opponent's emotions.
With his senses highly alert, he confirmed the boy's agitation.
Not a single one of those emotions was directed at him, the enemy he crossed swords with.
It was an isolated feeling, the kind of emotion one bears completely alone.
The sword trembled on its own, mirroring the light in his eyes.
'Did I feel that correctly?' So Jin-rang asked himself unconsciously. His interest was piqued, but he shook his head inwardly. He's a prodigy who's already reached the Black Rank. He has the world at his feet. It must have been an illusion.
It was then.
“…!”
The Desolate Fortress Sword, which had been pressing down on the flat of So Jin-rang's blade, tilted to match it perfectly.
It moved in a pulsating rhythm, perfectly matching the subtle rise and fall of So Jin-rang's chest with each breath.
It happened in an instant. The transition in his grip was astonishing.
The flats of their blades met. If Yeon-shin slashed upward diagonally, So Jin-rang's head would fly off.
He had allowed the momentum to shift and was now in a posture from which he couldn't resist.
Normally, changing one's grip mid-clash was impossible.
Force would disperse while rotating the hilt; it should have been impossible.
Unless it was a divine skill that rode the force with extreme subtlety, following the rhythm of the enemy's own breathing.
'I'm going to die,' So Jin-rang thought. No matter how he responded, it was too late. He couldn't escape unless he used internal energy.
Pride or life? Faced with the crossroads, he made his choice as the young lord of a great Heterodox sect.
Even if he had spoken grandly to the boy, his life came first.
The power he'd built with spirit medicines surged to life.
Before he could even think, the internal energy scattered throughout his body began racing through his meridians.
Just as immense strength filled his body—
Thud!
A dull impact dug into his abdomen. Jeong Yeon-shin had kicked him. The force loaded into the tip of his foot was tremendous.
With a gasp, So Jin-rang's upper body bent slightly.
Even in that moment, he did not take his eyes off the boy's face. He saw his expression.
'This bastard.'
The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. The slight furrow of his smooth brow was terrifying.
For a swordsman who rarely expressed emotion, that expression had to be interpreted as rage.
Clang.
So Jin-rang's assumption was correct. Jeong Yeon-shin had let go of his sword, fearing he might actually kill the man against his initial intention.
Many of his seniors in the Demonlight Wing had died or been injured. He had witnessed his maternal uncle's arm being severed right before his eyes.
The home of his heart, a place even the Jeong Family Manor could not become, had just been shattered down to its foundations.
He'd been desperately trying to suppress the rising fear constricting his Baihui Point, but this bastard had just scraped at the raw wound in his heart.
Grab!
Closing the distance, he grabbed So Jin-rang's wrist.
The hand holding the sword hilt was snatched away helplessly.
The moment he felt the man's aura, he had already activated the Law-Transcending Halo Qi in his lower body and the left side of his upper body.
He didn't load internal energy into his right hand. Instead, he filled it with emotion.
The suppressed fear and his rage toward his own heavenly mandate.
Thud!
He felt So Jin-rang's abdominal muscles against his knuckles. They were firm. The corners of the boy's mouth curled up slightly.
Punching him felt like striking the unmoving sky—the same sky that had cursed him with an absurdly short lifespan.
Regardless of the shield of true qi forming over So Jin-rang's abdomen, Jeong Yeon-shin struck once more.
Crack!
The thin, solid sensation of Body Protection Qi and Internal Energy Armor scraped against his hand.
It was fine. He felt a sadistic pleasure.
While gripping So Jin-rang's sword hand, Yeon-shin kicked his shin every time the man tried to take a stance.
So Jin-rang had no choice but to leave his abdomen completely exposed.
'Advancing Thunder.'
The second form of the Infinite Flower of Time Hand was repeated over and over.
Advancing Thunder, Advancing Thunder, Advancing Thunder. The fist strikes, inspired by Ma Se-in's powerful punches, exploded without internal energy.
His innate senses were more than enough to disrupt So Jin-rang's balance and seal off his swordsmanship.
This, too, was a power obtained at the cost of "the preciousness of time."
The boy spoke to his own body. Damn bastard.
“…”
The once-noisy grand avenue fell silent, as if frozen in time.
Only the sound of formless, shapeless fists battering the successor of the Tenth Sect echoed in the silence.
Sleeves rustled, and So Jin-rang's miserable groans flowed out.
The pride of the Thirteen Heavens of the Heterodox Path was being shattered to pieces.
In a fight without internal energy, the boy's martial prowess on the grand avenue of Giju was worthy of being called invincible.
Watching from behind, the Ominous Sword, Gal Sa-ryang, understood completely.
The boy had transcended the realm of mastery through innate sense alone.
From the moment the rising star and his formidable opponent had crossed swords, it had been clear to his eyes.
'I must kill him here. It has to be now.'
Gal Sa-ryang secretly circulated his internal energy.
Drawing the trajectory of the forms in his mind, he snatched his sword like a flash of light.
He held it in a reverse grip. A flying sword. He intended to throw it.
From the looks of it, the young Black Rank expert of the Desolate Fortress had not yet reached the realm of Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak.
He was at a stage where his supreme prowess came from absurdly powerful divine arts and innate senses, not the instantaneous power born from the perfect unity of mind and internal energy.
If so, it was worth a try.
The youngest Black Rank expert? He was currently busy smashing the successor of the Tenth Sect.
With the arrogance of not even loading internal energy into one of his hands.
'The honor of our sect, or nipping a future threat in the bud? If I must choose, it is the latter.'
However, Gal Sa-ryang was also on edge.
Though he measured the Flash Art while thinking of the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak, this was still the act of killing a Black Rank expert.
No amount of care would be too much. Lowering his posture slightly, he honed his mind to a single point.
Only the boy clad in black robes, battering So Jin-rang, remained clear in his vision.
'I still feel uneasy. Will it work? If I cannot kill him in a single strike, there is no turning back. I must risk my life. I will give it everything.'
Scree!
A sharp trajectory deepened in Gal Sa-ryang's mind. It was the form of the flying sword technique.
The hilt wrapped in his palm absorbed the spirit of the swordsman who had once dominated the Sichuan martial world.
It was just before he could throw the sword.
Ch-ch-ch-ring!
Suddenly, a swarm of silver butterflies flew in like a storm.
It was the divine ultimate technique of the Tang Clan Leader, who, never doubting his master's skills, had been watching only his enemies.
It was the flash of the Myriad Blossoms Rain, crossing the distance in an instant.
Spurt!
Blood erupted from the entire body of the Ominous Sword, Gal Sa-ryang, as hundreds of iron shards embedded themselves into him.
In that futile, brilliant moment, the blooming petals of blood heralded the end of the Tenth Sect.