Chapter 137: The Turbulent Return Journey (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 137: The Turbulent Return Journey (2)
The Tang Clan physicians had just finished examining Ma Yeon-jeok.
To allow them to properly take his pulse, Ma Yeon-jeok had been forced to reveal a fraction of the Law-Transcending Halo Qi's power. Without understanding its context, they couldn't possibly gauge the true extent of his internal injuries or his current condition.
"We shall treat this as a matter of utmost secrecy."
The physicians staked their lives before Clan Head Tang Un-hwang, swearing a blood oath of silence regarding their benefactor's martial arts.
The term "Dharma Power" had come from the boy's own mouth. He explained that Ma Yeon-jeok's Azure Flame was a martial art fundamentally rooted in Dharma Power.
Among the physicians—who stared in wide-eyed, speechless shock—was one elder of particularly vast experience. He began to speak of the resonance between identical types of True Qi.
He cited examples such as coordinated attacks by martial brothers who trained in the same energy, or sword formations that amplified True Qi. He proposed that if a miraculous force like Dharma Power had synchronized, it was entirely possible for such a phenomenon to sustain the life of a robust, peerless martial artist.
The old physician was quick to add that this was merely conjecture. Since the cultivation of Dharma Power was exceedingly rare, it was difficult to know for certain.
"Are you saying that Dharma Power can directly affect a person's life force?"
"No, I speak of the resonance of identical True Qi."
The other Tang Clan physicians leaned in with immense interest. However, under the fierce glare of their Clan Head, they had no choice but to bow their heads and retreat. They were given a single instruction: brew a restorative decoction.
It's enough that he's safe. But...
For Jeong Yeon-shin, other matters weighed heavily on his mind.
The boy looked down at his maternal grandfather, fast asleep on the bed. His wrinkled face now resembled that of an ordinary, aging villager.
The physicians claimed that with focused recovery, he could regain a healthy body for his age, but practicing martial arts again would be nearly impossible. The acupoints and twelve meridians throughout his entire body had been severely crippled.
Even to Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes, the damage was catastrophic. To retrain a body in this state using the Jeong Family Dynamic Art, it would take at least ten years just to restore his former physical foundation.
He tried to find solace in the fact that his grandfather hadn't died in mutual destruction with the Blood Flame Cult Leader. Yet, seeing the frail old man before him, acceptance was a bitter pill to swallow. The boy stood in silence, staring down at his grandfather for a long time.
"Ahem."
Lazy Flame Dragon, standing beside him, suddenly cleared his throat. Lost in thought, Jeong Yeon-shin merely gave a slight nod—a silent gesture telling him to speak.
"So, about that... the Sect Founding Ceremony."
"The Foundation Ceremony?"
"You saw it briefly just now. The friendly duels."
"Go on."
"There's a reward on the line. They're offering a Great Restoration Pill. Rumor has it the Sword Saint received one after putting the Shaolin Abbot in his debt, right before he was nominated as the Alliance Leader. Either way, isn't it the ultimate restorative? Though I don't know if they'll actually hand it over."
"...Thank you."
"I think that's the first time I've ever heard those words from our temporary unit commander. What did you say?"
A faint smirk played on Lazy Flame Dragon's lips. It wasn't malicious; he simply looked like an older sibling dealing with an unsociable younger brother.
Jeong Yeon-shin ignored the teasing and told him to bring lunch. Shifting his weight, Lazy Flame Dragon let out an exaggerated sigh and walked out.
The boy turned his gaze back to his grandfather. He was just an old man sleeping peacefully. It was hard to find any trace of a peerless master in him now.
Still, he survived. Even after facing the Blood Flame Cult Leader.
Amidst his heavy heart, a gentle wave of relief washed over him. In any case, the immediate crisis had been resolved.
The Tenth Sect had retreated after suffering a crippling blow, and the Blood Flame Cult had sustained fatal losses. The Cult Leader's remains and the Pure Demon Alliance still weighed on his mind, but that was all. The Blood Flame Cult Leader had been unable to withstand the Law-Transcending Halo Qi and the ultimate mastery of the Demon-Quelling Azure Steel Hand.
The Pure Demon Alliance had lost many of their elites at the City of Master Craftsmen and on the main road of Giju.
The Tang Clan should be able to handle the rest.
Especially now that the Myriad Blossoms Rain had been returned to them. With the Tang Clan holding absolute hegemony over Sichuan Province, the boy's focus shifted to his grandfather's recuperation and the whereabouts of the Elder Council Head.
Jeong Yeon-shin intended to deploy the Radiant Wing Unit if tracking proved too difficult, regardless of Tang Un-hwang's confident boast that they would easily find him.
Now, we must return.
Ma Yeon-jeok, who had briefly regained consciousness while the physicians took his pulse, had smiled upon seeing his grandson. He had mentioned the Lord of the Desolate Fortress, stating there was something he had to convey in person as soon as possible. He didn't specify what it was.
The Great Restoration Pill... I wonder if I can secure the mission for the Martial World Alliance's Foundation Ceremony.
The boy pondered. Perhaps his promotion to the Black Rank would come first. Such was the law of the Desolate Fortress. Jeong Yeon-shin had accumulated an astonishing number of achievements during this trip to Sichuan. It was more than enough, even without donating the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Leaning back in his chair, the boy let himself bask in the sunlight that flowed through the room like transparent waves. He remained like that for quite a while, soaking in the warm summer air.
"I brought it. It was quite a chore turning away the servants who wanted to help."
Lazy Flame Dragon walked in, carrying a massive table laden with food all by himself. Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his eyes.
"Let's eat. You need a full stomach to nurse someone."
He placed the feast beside the bed, and they sat facing each other. They left Ma Yeon-jeok's rice gruel untouched, having been told it was best to let it cool before feeding him.
Jeong Yeon-shin followed the physician's instructions to the letter. Even Lazy Flame Dragon, who picked up his utensils in silence, didn't tease the boy about his meticulous care.
Just as their meal drew to a close, a man and a woman called out to Jeong Yeon-shin from outside the door.
"Benefactor."
"Benefactor...!"
It was the Poison Phoenix and the Poison Dragon. The twin siblings approached with quick, short steps, behaving almost like servants.
In the hands of the Poison Phoenix, Tang Ryeo-ryeo, was a rolled-up bundle of paper. Stepping inside, she handed a small letter to Jeong Yeon-shin. The calligraphy on the envelope was exceedingly polite.
[To Master Flash Art, Personal]
It was a message from Tang Un-hwang. Because the Tang Family Pagoda was so vast, it seemed the Dragon-Phoenix Twin Poisons had come in person rather than sending a servant. This gesture was proof of how deeply the clan revered Jeong Yeon-shin.
The boy carefully unfolded the letter and scanned its contents.
Finally...
The words, written in a hurried hand, brought good news. A trace had been discovered on one of the peaks of Sichuan's Jianmen Pass. It was news regarding the Desolate Fortress's Elder Council Head.
The boy slowly parted his lips.
"I would like to send our forces to the main fortress's Giju Branch. I also need to ask the Clan Head for permission."
"Just say the word!" Tang Yeo-hwa replied, his eyes sparkling. Tang Ryeo-ryeo also tilted her head forward in agreement.
"I want to temporarily bring the Demonlight Wing and the Radiant Wing Unit into the Tang Family Pagoda," Jeong Yeon-shin said.
It was a decision made using his dual authority: his status as the one who wore Ma Jin's black martial uniform, and his position as the temporary Radiant Wing Unit Commander.
It was, in essence, a mobilization order.
* * *
Seven days and nights passed in the Tang Family Pagoda, a compound vaster than any ordinary grand manor.
"Aaaaargh!"
The bloodcurdling scream of the Supreme Elder, Tang Tae-dok, tore through the air. It was a sharp, agonizing sound that echoed from afar.
Jeong Yeon-shin paused in the middle of packing his bags. He had heard they fed the elder the Intestine-Severing Poison. Its effects were exactly as the name suggested—inflicting an agonizing pain that felt as if one's internal organs were being sliced to ribbons.
The family laws of the Sichuan Tang Clan were draconian. They were not just the accommodating hosts who had shown a soft side to the boy. He realized that the notorious reputation of the Tang Clan stemmed from this exact razor-sharp ruthlessness.
Perhaps it was a blessing they hadn't met as enemies. If one colluded with a heretical cult designated by the Imperial Family, even the Supreme Elder could not escape severe punishment. This execution took place shortly after the Desolate Fortress's Elder Council Head had been safely retrieved by the Tang Clan's experts.
Clan Head Tang Un-hwang's actions, while adhering to righteousness and duty, were thoroughly ice-cold. Since they had exchanged both favors and grudges, he wished to conclude the matter without making an enemy of the Desolate Fortress. There was also his profound respect for his master, Flash Art.
He had fed poison to his own father, the Supreme Elder of the clan. He publicized the incident widely, ensuring the punishment was carried out before the eyes of all clan members.
The result was that harrowing scream.
Jeong Yeon-shin decided to pay it no mind. He was busy preparing for a long journey.
Step.
He walked out of the pavilion that had grown familiar over the past few days. His footsteps, brushing through the summer breeze, continued without hesitation—all the way to the wide entrance of the Tang Family Pagoda's main gate, where the fierce battle had taken place.
"Unit Commander."
"Flash Art!"
The waiting warriors of the Desolate Fortress either clasped their hands in salute or waved. Their formation was unique. A massive carriage was positioned at the center—the result of the boy's careful arrangements.
With the help of Ma Jin, Cheong-myeong, and Baek Mi-ryeo, he had already organized the structure of the return procession. Jeong Yeon-shin was officially in charge of the journey. Ma Jin had temporarily transferred his authority as the Commander of the Demonlight Wing to him.
The boy's seniors had agreed without a single complaint. They highly valued his rapidly progressing martial prowess and his monumental achievements in resolving the incident at the City of Master Craftsmen.
To a martial artist possessing the sense of Qi, martial prowess was directly linked to field command capability. The range of one's perception, encompassing all directions, was the very radius of one's thoughts and actions.
"You must be especially careful of Fa Jin. If he is swept up in the shockwave of True Qi, there is no telling how his fine vessels and meridians will react. Please pay extraordinary attention to his escort," the old physician repeatedly urged.
They stood beside the three massive carriages at the center of the procession. It was hard to even call them carriages. Their solid, dark-brown frames and sheer size—spacious enough for five people to lie down comfortably—suggested otherwise. The term "chariot" was far more fitting. Luxuriously, a top-grade bed had been loaded whole inside each one.
Ma Yeon-jeok and the Elder Council Head lay inside their respective chariots. The remaining one carried the Desolate Fortress experts who had difficulty moving. Ma Jin, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing who had lost a limb, the Blue-Ranked expert Oh Wol-hyang, and Baek Mi-ryeo and Cheong-myeong, who had suffered penetrating wounds, would all rest comfortably inside.
This was the handiwork of the Ironfolk from the City of Master Craftsmen. While many of them chose to remain with the Tang Clan, twenty had decided to accompany Jeong Yeon-shin's group. For the notoriously insular people of Sichuan, this was an unprecedented decision. They had chosen the Desolate Fortress as their next home.
They said it was a collective decision—a repayment of gratitude to the Demonlight Wing and the Radiant Wing Unit. With the servants and physicians provided by the Tang Clan, the convoy numbered nearly seventy people.
"Thank you for your kindness."
The boy clasped his hands in salute to the short, elderly physician.
The old man waved his hands dismissively, saying it was nothing of the sort. "Compared to what our benefactor has done, this is nothing. We also owe a great debt to Great Hero Ma and Elder Council Head Shin... I am simply ashamed I could not do more."
Whoosh!
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept in from all directions. It was a fierce gale whipped up by the Body Protection Scriptures of dozens of Tang Clan experts.
Had the execution of the Supreme Elder concluded? Tang Un-hwang, wearing a heavy expression, landed at the front of the group alongside the Dragon-Phoenix Twin Poisons.
Soon after, green sleeves rose to chest level, accompanied by the rustle of fine fabric. Folding and raising both hands in a gesture of utmost respect, the Tang Clan experts performed the arching hand salute. They had come to see the convoy off.
Jeong Yeon-shin returned the salute in silence. They had already said their goodbyes; there was nothing left to discuss.
"Benefactor, will you be coming to the Martial World Alliance's Foundation Ceremony?" Tang Ryeo-ryeo asked softly.
"We'll see."
"We are going. It would be wonderful if you came," the Poison Dragon, Tang Yeo-hwa, muttered gloomily.
Jeong Yeon-shin smiled faintly and patted the siblings' heads one after the other. The faces of the Poison Phoenix and the Poison Dragon flushed slightly.
"I wish you well, Clan Head."
"I wish you good fortune on your journey as well, Benefactor."
Tang Un-hwang, who had just returned from putting his own father to death, gave a slight nod, his lips curving upward into a faint smile.
Jeong Yeon-shin walked to the front of the convoy under their watchful eyes. At his waist hung the Northern Light sword, which had now transformed into a Divine Sword. The scorching summer sun shimmered dazzlingly along its silver hilt.
"We set out," the boy commanded calmly.
Behind him, flanking his left and right, stood Heonwon Chang, Namgung Hwa-shin, Lazy Flame Dragon, and the Red-Day Sword. A procession more heavily guarded and luxurious than any ordinary escort agency began to move.
Four fine steeds pulled each of the three chariots, while the guarding experts formed a triple-layered perimeter around the vehicles, the Ironfolk, the servants, and the physicians.
The rhythmic clatter of horses' hooves slowly echoed as they passed through the main gate of the Tang Family Pagoda. Because the two old masters were in fragile condition, they could not travel fast. They moved at the pace of a brisk walk.
Led by Jeong Yeon-shin, the massive procession entered the wide official road.
"What's going on? That convoy is coming from the direction of the Tang Family Pagoda..."
"Look at their uniforms. They're warriors of the Desolate Fortress."
"Those carriages are unusual. Could it be that... the Hegemon Hero is in there...?"
It was the official road that cut straight through the provincial capital of Sichuan, bustling with onlookers. From merchant groups and escort agencies transporting goods, to street vendors calling out from their stalls, to inn waiters and rogue cultivators stretching as they stepped outside—all attention was instantly drawn to the grand procession.
The boy walked in silence, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt. He was ready to draw his blade the moment he sensed anything suspicious.
Finally.
This was the end of the mission he had received as the Radiant Wing Unit Commander. He had fully embarked on the road of return alongside the Demonlight Wing.
Though the sky stretched above them in a brilliant, serene blue, he could not afford to relax. News of the clash between the great sects of Sichuan was currently spreading throughout the entire Jianghu. The disciples of the Tenth Sect had seen Ma Yeon-jeok reduced to a mummy-like state.
I must remain vigilant.
The Desolate Fortress was a faction with many enemies. He had to anticipate even the most reckless of pests. The Central Plains was home to all kinds of people, and there were plenty who moved solely for their own gain. In the Jianghu, common sense often did not apply. The same went for the discernment required to accurately measure one's own strength against an opponent's.
There would surely be fools who would charge in, attempting to make a name for themselves by breaking through the procession's guard to strike at a Purple-Ranked expert.
He told me to be careful of foreign True Qi.
The boy was just recalling the words of the old Tang Clan physician when it happened.
"Greetings to the warriors of the Desolate Fortress."
A group that had been emitting a bothersome presence from the front left approached him. Their movements were incredibly light. In a corner of his mind, Jeong Yeon-shin was already calculating the distance between them.
There were three of them. All young.
Every one of them possessed an outstanding aura, but the swordswoman at the front was by far the most prominent. She carried a dark-colored precious sword. Dressed in vermilion silk traveling attire, her pitch-black hair fell all the way down to her waist.
Even though her aura was clearly restrained, it felt incredibly sharp.
"I am Chwi So-ok of the Diancang Sect."
Her posture as she clasped her hands in salute was perfectly disciplined. Her outward impression was entirely different from her fierce aura. The gentle droop of her large eyes gave her a kind, approachable look. She even gave off a somewhat fragile impression.
Yet, no one dared to underestimate her.
The Diancang Sect was one of the Nine Great Sects, renowned as a premier school of the sword. Furthermore, when it came to Chwi So-ok of Diancang, many in the Jianghu openly spoke of her as a talent destined to become a sovereign of the sword—even while keeping a wary eye on the Imperial Family's reactions.
"Small Sword Empress. It has been a long time." Namgung Hwa-shin, flanking Jeong Yeon-shin's left, greeted her. They seemed to be acquaintances.
"I have heard much of Young Hero Namgung's rising fame in the Desolate Fortress. I am very pleased to meet you again like this," Chwi So-ok replied with a warm, smiling gaze.
Even then, Jeong Yeon-shin did not stop walking. He had no peace of mind to spare for pleasantries. Though he had embarked on this long journey at his grandfather's request, he needed to reach the Desolate Fortress as quickly as possible so the old man could properly rest.
Because of this, Chwi So-ok's group was forced to walk alongside the moving convoy to converse. The man in blue martial attire beside her furrowed his brow slightly at the perceived slight.
However, Chwi So-ok spoke first. "I have heard much of the fame of Flash Art of the Demonlight Wing. I, too, would like to strike up an acquaintance with you, Young Hero."
"I am curious about your business. It seems you have an ulterior motive," Jeong Yeon-shin replied indifferently.
The only one who noticed the boy's unusually cold mood was Heonwon Chang, who had fought beside him for a long time.
Since arriving in Sichuan Province, the boy had been pushed through a gauntlet of extreme situations. He had lost several of his seniors, witnessed his uncle's arm being severed, and seen his grandfather suffer a near-fatal wound. Heonwon Chang knew of Jeong Yeon-shin's constitution.
Heonwon Chang could not yet fathom how the deep-seated terror born from a life lived on borrowed time—compounded by the sheer brutality of their recent trials in the Sichuan martial world—was twisting and reshaping the young boy before him. The weight of everything they had endured hung heavy in the air, an invisible pressure that seemed to suffocate the space around them.
Just go away, all of you, Heonwon Chang thought, his internal plea desperate and weary.
With a subtle, nervous motion, he reached up to adjust the hero's headband strapped securely across his forehead. His eyes darted between the approaching figures and his young commander. More than anything, he simply prayed that this encounter would pass without incident, hoping the fragile peace of the moment would not shatter into violence.
Oblivious to the simmering volatility just beneath the surface, Chwi So-ok offered a faint, polite smile. Her demeanor was the picture of martial grace as she spoke.
"As someone who has harbored a lifelong admiration for the peerless blade of the Hegemon Hero, I have taken the liberty of coming here today to inquire after his well-being. I cannot help but wonder if a humble junior such as myself might be granted the profound honor of paying my respects to the former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps."
Chwi So-ok, widely known as the Small Sword Empress, and the companions trailing closely behind her were not martial artists affiliated with the main fortress. Perhaps that was the very reason they felt so emboldened to approach. Was it because they were outsiders, entirely unburdened by the intricate politics and the need to meticulously guard their reputations within these walls? Or perhaps it was simply because the sheer gravity of the recent tragedies was a situation easily understandable to anyone who possessed even a passing knowledge of the martial world's current circumstances.
Whatever their reasoning, their timing could not have been worse.
The boy’s true, unfiltered thoughts slipped from his lips before he even realized he had spoken. The raw exhaustion and simmering grief stripped away any pretense of martial courtesy.
"Get lost."
"……"
It was a blunt, razor-sharp dismissal that instantly suffocated the atmosphere, plunging the immediate vicinity into an absolute, breathless silence. The polite smiles froze in place; the breathing of the surrounding martial artists hitched in their throats as the sheer audacity of the insult washed over them.
For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound that dared to break the heavy stillness was the sharp, rhythmic fluttering of the dark black robe draped over Jeong Yeon-shin’s slender frame, snapping sharply in the open air.
Unlike the deeply frozen silence that gripped the people standing there, the relentless winds sweeping through the vast Sichuan basin continued to move without rest, howling softly as if mocking the sudden tension that had taken hold of the group.
Snapping out of his shock, Heonwon Chang, who stood faithfully beside the boy, hurriedly stepped forward to intervene before the situation could escalate into an irreversible conflict.
"Ah, what our unit commander actually means to say," Heonwon Chang rushed out, his voice a frantic attempt to smooth over the blatant insult, "is that the current timing is highly unfavorable for receiving visitors. Given the circumstances, it would be best for all of us to promise this meeting for another time."
Before the Small Sword Empress could even fully process the excuse, a sudden, abrupt choking sound echoed down from the roof of one of the nearby chariots.
Up there, the man known as the Lazy Flame Dragon, who had been lounging in his usual indolent manner, suddenly burst into a fit of uproarious laughter. The sheer unexpectedness of the boy's brazen insult had caught him entirely off guard, leaving him coughing and wheezing as he nearly choked to death on the dried poppy stem he had been idly chewing.