Chapter 130: Blue Flame (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 130: Blue Flame (3)
The Myriad Blossoms Rain of the Poison Lord, Tang Un-hwang, shredded Gal Sa-ryang's entire body.
It did not stop there. The torrential rain of steel flowers tore into the remaining warriors of the Thirteen Heavens.
Only then did the Myriad Blossoms Rain reveal its true might.
A localized natural disaster for those who lacked the martial prowess to resist, it swept them all away.
By then, Jeong Yeon-shin had completely shattered So Jin-rang’s will to fight.
As the successor of the Tenth Sect, an unfamiliar emotion gripped his heart.
Utter terror. He had to flee while he still had the chance.
Though he suspected Jeong Yeon-shin had an ulterior motive in sparing him, to a rising star of the Unorthodox Factions, survival came first.
Which led him to this moment.
A desolate hill where a chilly breeze swept through the fallen leaves.
The rustling sound was unnervingly eerie.
Footsteps crunched over the dry foliage, coming to a halt right in front of So Jin-rang.
A dark, textured red robe fluttered in the wind. It was the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.
A sinister aura lingered around her pale face, but her expression was utterly blank, as if she had never learned how to smile.
Staring intently at So Jin-rang, she finally parted her lips.
"I doubt your entire twenty years of life could even compare to a single year of that boy's. You certainly ran your mouth well for someone who knows absolutely nothing. Be grateful. Your life has been extended by another half-hour, all because our Grand Preceptor's sense of Qi has expanded."
The way she slowly clenched and unclenched her slender fingers was strangely seductive.
Irregular waves of colorless internal power rippled from her knuckles.
Her demeanor suggested she might kill him at any second, yet there was a terrifying naturalness to it.
So Jin-rang knew who she was. The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult was an infamous figure.
Rumors said she was of noble birth.
Born with innate Blood Art True Qi, she was a first-rate expert who had ascended to the rank of Apostle while still at the age of a mere rising star.
Even among the nobility of the Blood Flame Cult, she was hailed as a martial genius chosen by the heavens.
There were even rumors that her mother had died with a blissful smile on her face immediately after giving birth to her.
The Seventh Apostle tilted her head.
"Well, this is far enough. What should I do to make him recognize my devotion? Our Grand Preceptor, I mean. Hmm, no. The more I handle trash like you, the more contemptuously he'll look at me. With those eyes harboring that brilliant martial talent... Ah? That's actually quite thrilling too...?"
She was rambling pure nonsense. At least, that was how it sounded to So Jin-rang.
Did she not care at all about the Halberd-Surpassing Sword of the Tenth Sect? She was completely out of her mind.
"What on earth are you talking about...!"
Instinctive terror gripped him.
The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult was not someone who would care about the status of a young lord from the Thirteen Heavens.
From her words, she seemed to have a connection with the Flash Art, Jeong Yeon-shin, which made that boy's existence seem even more mind-boggling.
Did the youngest Black Rank expert, the very future of the Desolate Fortress, actually have ties with an Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult?
It was then.
Suddenly, strands of white hair fluttered behind the Seventh Apostle, right over her shoulder.
A peerlessly handsome man with snow-white hair slowly poked his head forward, having approached without making even the slightest sound.
"Even though his head is filled with maguni, his accumulated Qi is quite substantial. Seventh Apostle, I find this offering rather to my liking. I was delayed by the long journey, but this trip has proven worthwhile."
The man's voice echoed with a sweet, hypnotic cadence.
Anyone accompanying the Seventh Apostle was surely an expert of a heretical cult, yet there was no sense of incongruity when he used a Buddhist term like maguni as if he were a devout monk.
But So Jin-rang's knowledge of the martial world was too vast for him to be fooled.
He knew the origins of the Blood Flame Cult.
It was said that a grandmaster of the Blood Art had plagiarized core tenets of Indian Buddhism—the most widely spread religion in the world—in order to rapidly propagate the Blood Flame Cult.
"The Blood Flame Cult Leader...?"
So Jin-rang's voice trembled faintly. His lips twitched in despair.
Anyone would react that way if they stumbled across both the Seventh Apostle and the Blood Flame Cult Leader on some nameless hill.
They were a walking calamity born from the darkness.
"An offering? How vulgar."
The Seventh Apostle spoke in a dismissive tone, not even bothering to look at him. It was hardly the respectful attitude one should show to a cult leader.
The Blood Flame Cult Leader merely smiled faintly, as if dealing with a daughter throwing a tantrum.
"You only say that because you have never experienced the sword of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress. Originally, I should have held the upper hand against the Yin energy possessed by that being. Where in this world are there beings more Yin-aligned than you and I?"
"Then why did you lose?"
"Her martial prowess outright surpassed the natural laws of elemental compatibility. It wasn't even Dharma power that blocked my regenerative abilities, yet I died many times over to her pure sword strikes."
He discussed a battle at the absolute apex of the martial world in a calm, archaic tone.
So Jin-rang shuddered.
Even paralyzed by fear, a violent shiver ran down his spine.
The Cult Leader and the Fortress Lord.
The Blood Flame Cult, which commanded the most expansive influence among the Thirteen Heavens, and the Desolate Fortress, which stood like an immovable mountain in northern Huguang.
The recent clash between the Blood Flame Cult Leader and the Lord of the Desolate Fortress had shaken the entire martial world.
The outcome of their duel did not merely draw the attention of martial artists.
Even the logistics of the merchant world stretching from Huguang to Southern Zhili fluctuated in response. They were absolute beings.
‘Just what... what on earth...’
Faced with this reality, even So Jin-rang, the son of the Lord of the Tenth Sect, found it impossible to maintain his composure.
It was said that the Blood Flame Cult Leader was a supernatural entity wearing human skin.
Just a sliver of his attention directed toward So Jin-rang was enough to make his mind go numb.
"I must use the Qi absorption mnemonic of the Mara Blood-Roaring Art that I bestowed upon the Apostles. I cannot recover without absorbing essence. Conveniently, the energy of the spirit medicines this maguni has consumed is quite substantial, so I will finally be able to act fully as myself again. This is perfect. That bastard Ma Yeon-jeok's energy was starting to become a nuisance."
"Ma Yeon-jeok? That decrepit old man?"
"Yes. Ma Yeon-jeok's prowess has returned to a surprising degree. But that was not all. I felt something slightly unsettling about him. Since my body was not whole, I avoided him for a while. It seems to me that our Grand Preceptor has played some trick. Once I obtain the Blood Art mnemonic modified by that precious boy, it would be wise to carefully discuss how to handle him."
"……."
"If we attempt to bring the Grand Preceptor back carelessly, the disaster at our main headquarters will only repeat itself. The Lord of the Desolate Fortress will personally pay us a visit once more. It seems she treasures him dearly. The Fortress Lord rarely draws the Extinction Sword. The last time she did so was when she annihilated the royal family of Dali."
"The Lord of the Desolate Fortress treasures him?"
The Seventh Apostle's eyes narrowed.
The conversations of madmen were always difficult to follow.
The Blood Flame Cult Leader did not bother to answer.
Brushing back his silky white hair, he smiled with a lethal, demonic charm.
"Speaking of the Grand Preceptor..."
"……?"
"Why did you omit it from your report?" he asked languidly. A chilling silence instantly swept over them.
The night wind blew cold. It was a question that forced the Seventh Apostle into silence.
"I heard they were annihilated upon encountering the Flash Art in the City of Master Craftsmen. I received reports that the boy's martial prowess had reached the Black Rank. Hearing of the events at the Giju Branch, I thought it might indeed be true. But did my subordinates really die there... at the hands of the Grand Preceptor?"
"……."
"Look at me."
"Your eyes are ugly. And unnecessarily red."
At her offhand remark, the corners of the Blood Flame Cult Leader's mouth curved into a faint arc.
"Do you covet the position of Cult Leader? That would be quite an alluring sight in its own way. Since you were born of the noble True Blood Lineage, if you were to sit on the throne, you would become the True Blood Cult Leader. Is your cultivation not progressing by leaps and bounds thanks to the mnemonic you received from the Grand Preceptor? If you take the sacred relic of the Cult Leader, you will take yet another step forward."
"I'm not particularly interested."
"You ought to be interested. For who knows if some misfortune might soon befall me? The power of the entire world is shifting. I hear the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect has killed the Qingcheng Sect Leader."
"The Qingcheng Sect Leader? Isn't that the Red Haze Sword Venerable? The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect did it alone?"
"A fellow who was already a peerless expert is continuing to grow. I hear his next target is the Zhongnan Sect Leader. The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect... a half-blood Brightfolk of humble talent, is using time as his whetstone. After his defeat at Zhongnan, he entered closed-door cultivation and achieved a grand awakening."
With those words, the vitality vanished from So Jin-rang's eyes.
It was a futile end, like standing blankly only to be snuffed out by a passing breeze.
Before anyone even realized it, the Blood Flame Cult Leader was already gripping the crown of his head in his palm.
"First, we must head to the Tang Clan. I shall personally protect the Flash Art Great Law."
The Cult Leader spoke slowly.
The Seventh Apostle said nothing.
Tucking a strand of her fluttering black hair behind her ear, she merely cast down her crimson eyes as if lost in deep thought.
* * *
News of the incident on the Giju Highway spread like wildfire.
It was a direct clash between great sects, a truly rare spectacle.
The tangled web of alliances and rivalries involving the Tenth Sect, the Pure Demon Alliance, the Desolate Fortress, and the Tang Clan instantly drew the undivided attention of the vast Sichuan martial world.
"Can such a young, top-tier expert truly exist?"
"There were hundreds of eyewitnesses. While martial artists argue over whether it took two exchanges or three, to our eyes, it was over in a single second. The Flash Art killed the Blade-Fist Demon of the Pure Demon Alliance in a single strike. I heard that the young expert also killed the Pure Demon God Hand and the Sword Scorpion Demon."
"I heard he displayed the divine skill of the Myriad Blossoms Rain."
"They say the Sichuan Tang Clan is going to take him in as a son-in-law and revere him as a master. And well they should. Is he not an unprecedented rising star? Who would have thought such a promising young expert existed beyond the basin?"
"A Black Rank of the Desolate Fortress is a mere boy. I find it utterly hard to believe."
Alongside the resurgence of the Poison Lord, Tang Un-hwang, the name of the Flash Art, Jeong Yeon-shin, grew grander with each passing day.
As the days went by, the clamor in Giju only intensified.
Calling cards from all the prestigious clans of Sichuan flooded the front gates of the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch.
Rumors circulated that Jang Il-do, the Blue-Ranked expert who used to throw his weight around as the Giju Branch Head, couldn't even step out for a walk because he was buried under a mountain of documents.
By then, Jeong Yeon-shin was already en route to the Sichuan Tang Clan.
This was after he had regained his composure, sent So Jin-rang on his way, and temporarily parted with the Tang Clan Leader.
—We wish to host you with the utmost hospitality at our main estate.
Before turning back, the Poison Lord, Tang Un-hwang, had emphasized this repeatedly.
It was an earnest plea for his master to visit in the near future, promising that it would only take a short while for him to regain control of the clan.
He had also promised to make preparations to reforge the Desolate Fortress Sword into a Divine Sword.
There were two reasons for this.
To stand against the lords of the Thirteen Heavens who had lost their main experts, and to repay his master.
The Tang Clan was a sect of medicine, poison, and hidden weapons.
This naturally meant they were also highly skilled in blacksmithing. It was said they possessed an abundance of bizarre and extraordinary armaments.
‘He also told me to look forward to the spirit medicines.’
Thus, he formed a party and headed for the Tang Clan.
The bright faces of his seniors from the Demonlight Wing waving goodbye were still vivid in his mind.
The hand of Baek Mi-ryeo stroking his head had been unusually warm.
Since she was a senior who had mastered a profound demonic art, they had agreed to discuss the treasure map of the Ming Cult Leader at a later date.
The Beggar Sect Successor and the other experts of the Beggar Sect had also departed, promising to meet again in the future.
Though it wasn't a perfectly clean farewell, Jeong Yeon-shin didn't pay it much mind.
He had too many other responsibilities to handle.
He left the majority of the Radiant Wing Unit at the Desolate Fortress's Giju Branch.
As the temporary commander of the Radiant Wing Unit, he had written a letter to the main fortress detailing the progress of their mission and finished checking on his subordinates' internal injuries.
Accompanied by Heonwon Chang, the Lazy Flame Dragon, and Namgung Hwa-shin, he rode alongside the Tang siblings.
"We will arrive shortly."
Said the Poison Dragon, Tang Yeo-hwa, who was riding his steed side-by-side with Jeong Yeon-shin.
Despite his small stature, he was highly skilled in horsemanship. The Poison Phoenix, Tang Ryeo-ryeo, was much the same.
Suddenly, the wrinkled face of the Supreme Elder, who had stood blankly beside the Tang Clan Leader, came to mind.
His expression had made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
‘He was a strange old man.’
Amidst the loud clatter of hooves, as the dull vibrations from the ground resonated up to his waist, Tang Ryeo-ryeo's horse drew closer.
"Benefactor," the girl spoke.
Her way of addressing Jeong Yeon-shin had changed.
It had been this way ever since he passed down the Myriad Blossoms Rain to the Tang Clan Leader.
The boy merely shifted his gaze slightly.
Tang Ryeo-ryeo looked embarrassed, hesitating to speak.
The deep blush on her cheeks was a clear sign of her fluster.
Her small head bobbed slightly as she rode.
Jeong Yeon-shin easily guessed the reason. It was likely because of what the Supreme Elder had said earlier.
"Rest assured. I have no thoughts of marriage."
Even setting that aside, he was currently standing at a crossroads regarding how to navigate his relations with the clan.
To deal with two factions of the Thirteen Heavens, he needed the Tang Clan, but the Tang Clan was also the very sect the Demonlight Wing had come to investigate under suspicions of manufacturing Thunderbolt Bombs.
He could not enter a political marriage with the Poison Phoenix just to secure a great sect as an ally.
It would make things far too complicated.
He would be fortunate if this path didn't lead straight into a political quagmire.
They had already discussed the Thunderbolt Bombs during their first meeting.
Jeong Yeon-shin calmly turned his head back forward.
He stared straight ahead. Finally, the Tang Clan.
In the distance, the tiled roofs of a massive complex of pavilions began to reveal themselves in succession.
"……."
While Tang Ryeo-ryeo remained silent, the Lazy Flame Dragon chimed in.
He was chewing on a poppy stem, his eyes half-closed languidly.
"Let's have the Tang Clan deal with the Thirteen Heavens first, and then our temporary commander can just reap the core benefits. Passing down the Myriad Blossoms Rain alone makes you their benefactor for a thousand years. If they have nothing to hide, they'll open up their forge, so we can just decide after seeing that. If necessary, we can search every nook and cranny."
"I believe those are wise words."
It was Namgung Hwa-shin beside him.
He nodded heavily, his handsome face looking like a painting.
The corners of the Lazy Flame Dragon's mouth curved up slightly.
His voice carried clearly through the rushing wind once more.
"You killed the Pure Demon God Hand, the Sword Scorpion Demon, and the Blade-Fist Demon in succession. The fact that we could dispatch the Ominous Sword, Gal Sa-ryang, so easily was also half thanks to our temporary commander. Well... this is a feat on par with what the leader of Shaolin's Eighteen Arhats might achieve."
"……."
"Forging a Divine Sword, spirit medicines, a warm sleeping bag, and the world's finest delicacies... Let's just take what we can get and leave. As for the clan, who cares if they fall or not?"
"Brother Hwangbo's opinion is not wrong. The commander has already fulfilled his duty."
Namgung Hwa-shin replied again in a flat tone.
This entire brazen conversation took place right in front of the Tang siblings.
While the Lazy Flame Dragon's behavior was exactly as rumored, the words and actions of the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, who stood by Jeong Yeon-shin's side, were truly unexpected.
Heonwon Chang, who was holding his horse's reins and following behind, muttered,
"At least one of us should keep our sanity."
A short while later.
The party arrived at the main gates of the Sichuan Tang Clan and dismounted.
High walls stretched endlessly to the left and right.
The summer sun brightly illuminated the walls, standing as a towering symbol of power and wealth.
It was exactly as rumored.
It was said to be the most luxurious and massive manor in all of Sichuan Province.
Heonwon Chang looked at the Tang siblings with newfound appreciation.
"You two really come from an incredibly wealthy family."
When they entered the inner courtyard of the Tang Clan, Jeong Yeon-shin received an unprecedented welcome.
One could easily guess the sheer scale of it just by looking at the startled eyes of the Poison Dragon, Tang Yeo-hwa.
"I greet my master."
The Tang Clan Leader, who spoke with a bright smile, did not fully enter his field of vision.
This was due to the sheer number of people lined up to his left and right.
Experts were lined up in two long rows as if performing a grand ritual, clasping their hands in a unified salute.
A wide, long path was left empty between them.
It was the path leading to the high seats of the Tang Clan Leader and the other key figures of the clan.
"……."
It was an excessive welcome for Jeong Yeon-shin.
He walked down the path formed by the experts, dined side-by-side with the Tang Clan Leader in accordance with their lavish hospitality, and moderately dealt with the collateral relatives and various rising stars of the Tang Clan who approached him cautiously.
A long time passed, but none of it left a deep impression on his mind.
The boy suddenly raised his head. Dusk was settling in.
The final rays of the sun, which had raced quickly through the long summer day, were beautiful.
The sky was draped in a soft twilight glow, like fine silk.
Normally at this time, he would have been curled up on his bed back at the main fortress.
"This should be a good time. I shall give you one thing first."
The Tang Clan Leader gestured for them to stand with his small hand.
Jeong Yeon-shin's party stood up along with the Poison Lord, Tang Un-hwang.
The Tang siblings, whose expressions had brightened considerably as if they had finally had a proper reunion with their father, joined them.
It seemed their destination lay hidden within the absolute deepest reaches of the Tang Family Pagoda’s inner courtyard. The path wound deeper into the heart of the clan's territory, moving away from the bustling outer pavilions and into a secluded, heavily guarded sanctuary.
Standing closely to Jeong Yeon-shin’s left side, Namgung Hwa-shin maintained a subtle, vigilant posture. His fingers lightly, almost instinctively, gripped the familiar hilt of his Desolate Fortress Sword, ready to draw the blade at a moment's notice despite the seemingly peaceful atmosphere surrounding them.
The group walked forward in profound silence for the duration it would take to brew and finish a cup of hot tea. No one spoke a single word, their footsteps muffled against the smooth stone pathways as the profound quiet of the inner sanctum settled heavily over them.
The only sound that dared to comfortably break this heavy silence was the gentle, melodic chirping of small birds hidden among the lush foliage. The birdsong brought a fleeting sense of tranquil normalcy to the otherwise tense and mysterious procession through the legendary clan's grounds.
Eventually, their silent journey came to a halt as they arrived together at a small, exquisitely cultivated garden. It was a secluded paradise, hidden away from the prying eyes of the outside world, radiating an aura of ancient serenity.
The first thing that caught Jeong Yeon-shin's discerning eye was a miniature rockery. It was meticulously crafted from high-quality, perfectly smooth pebbles, arranged with a master artisan's touch to mimic a grand, imposing mountain range in miniature.
This exquisite rock formation sat perfectly centered within a very small, crystal-clear pond. The still water acted like a flawless mirror, reflecting the miniature peaks and the fading twilight sky above with startling clarity.
A modest, gentle stream wound its way around the base of the rockery in a continuous, flowing circle. From the surface of this gently circulating water, a mysterious, ethereal mist rose faintly into the air, curling and drifting like phantom silk, giving the entire garden a profound sense of ancient mysticism.
Rustle.
The soft sound of shifting fabric broke the stillness as movement drew their attention.
"I promised you before, did I not?" Tang Ryeo-ryeo's voice rang out, clear and confident in the quiet garden. "I told you that I would transform your weapon into a true Divine Sword."
With those words, Tang Ryeo-ryeo took a deliberate step forward. She lightly extended her slender arm, her movements graceful and filled with an undeniable certainty that commanded attention.
It was a guiding gesture, her hand motioning smoothly from where Jeong Yeon-shin stood directly toward the mist-shrouded water's edge of the miniature pond.
"You only need to submerge the blade into the water and pull it back out," she instructed, her tone turning entirely serious. "However, choose carefully. Only one sword is possible. The pond will grant its blessing a single time."
"……?"
A heavy, bewildered silence fell over the group as they processed her seemingly absurd claim. The idea of simply dipping a sword into a pond to forge a divine weapon sounded like utter nonsense.
After a brief, stunned silence, Heonwon Chang could no longer hold his tongue and abruptly spoke up, his voice shattering the mystical tension.
"Has the great Sichuan Tang Clan suddenly become a den of snake oil salesmen?" he blurted out, his tone dripping with sheer disbelief. "Are you honestly trying to sell us snake oil right now with this magical pond nonsense?"
It was painfully obvious that he had spoken his mind entirely without thinking, letting his unfiltered thoughts slip out in a moment of sheer incredulity.
Startled by the sheer audacity of his own words echoing in the quiet garden, his eyes widened in panic. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, realizing a second too late that he had just insulted the core of the Tang Clan in their own inner sanctum.
Taking advantage of the sudden awkwardness, the Lazy Flame Dragon leaned in slightly, closing the distance to whisper directly into Jeong Yeon-shin's ear.
"I don't know exactly what will happen to the Radiant Wing Unit in the future," the Lazy Flame Dragon murmured, his voice laced with dry amusement, "but for the sake of our collective survival, let's definitely exclude that idiot first."
The boy did not offer an answer to the whispered jest. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the mysterious waters. With a calm, measured breath, he slowly took a deliberate step forward, approaching the edge of the mystical pond.
As he reached the water's edge, he slightly parted the waist of his pitch-black robe. His fingers moved with practiced grace, alternately caressing the cool, unyielding hilts of the two weapons resting at his side: the formidable Desolate Fortress Sword and the legendary Northern Light Sword. He now faced a critical choice, the weight of the decision resting heavily upon his shoulders as the mist swirled around his feet.