Chapter 145: Black Rank (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 145: Black Rank (3)
A day passed.
The boy who had returned leading three four-horse carriages became a massive sensation. Even the procession itself had been extraordinary.
As the acting Unit Commander of the temporarily formed Radiant Wing Unit, he had rescued numerous experts from the Demonlight Wing. Rumor had it that the carriages carried the exhausted Former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps and the Head of the Elder Council.
If the rumors were true, he had achieved an astronomical feat.
“I want to know the exact details. The Chief Steward's Office is dragging its feet on the announcement. It's already been a day…”
Throughout the main avenues of the Main Fortress, martial artists gathered in small groups. Under the summer sun that heralded the coming Mid-Autumn Festival, they leaned against walls or stood tall, deep in conversation.
“I came back from a mission only to find my juniors had vanished. This Radiant Wing Unit… a temporary draft like that must mean he pulled off something huge. Our Unit Commander was sharpening his blade, absolutely furious.”
“Isn't rescuing the Demonlight Wing more than enough? There are even rumors that he practically annihilated two factions of the Thirteen Heavens. I heard the Pure Demon Alliance and the Tenth Sect are holding one funeral after another.”
“Did the Sword Scorpion Demon and the Pure Demon God Hand really die by the Flash Art's hand? If that's true, he’s more than qualified to be considered for the rank of Unit Commander. I’ve heard him called a prodigy and a genius, but his growth rate is incomprehensible. I watched his White Rank exam myself…”
“Sichuan is just too far. Our White Qilin and Shin Bin-bin are keeping their mouths shut. Has anyone heard the full story from the others?”
The Small Sword Empress and her companions, who had entered the fortress with him, captured only a fraction of the attention. Jeong Yeon-shin, the Flash Art, had left a tremendous impression when he arrived wearing a black robe with one sleeve torn off.
There was no room for even the Rising Stars of the Nine Sects to squeeze into the spotlight. This was true even for them, who, along with the Brightfolk elders who had trained for ages, were revered as immortals by the common folk.
“Let’s go,” said the Small Sword Empress.
She had been observing the various Blue-Ranked and White-Ranked warriors. Sa Do-ryeong and the Diancang Dance Sword escorted her on either side. Only then did many experts of the Desolate Fortress cast sharp glares in their direction.
They were only getting off this easy because they belonged to the Nine Sects. Had they been from the noble families or the Heterodox Sects, the fortress’s response would not have stopped at covert surveillance.
“I can feel the military discipline. To bind so many experts together with such discipline… it’s truly terrifying.”
The young swordsman in blue martial robes, who had clashed with the Lazy Flame Dragon not long ago, muttered. He was Sa Do-ryeong of the Diancang Sect, famous for his alias, the Sun-Piercing Sword.
“It is the single strongest Great Sect. No commentator in the world would deny it. If their purpose wasn't maintaining public order across the Central Plains, even we would have had to bow our heads. It’s a stroke of luck that their forces are so dispersed. The Alliance and the Thirteen Heavens are targeting that very vulnerability,” the Diancang Dance Sword whispered.
The group from the Diancang Sect returned to their quarters after strolling along the permitted paths of the Main Fortress. They were housed in an annex attached to the Chief Steward's Office.
Although they had been treated like captives among Jeong Yeon-shin’s group, they were still disciples of the Nine Sects and were given excellent lodgings. A small pavilion by a pond fed by a river was bathed in sunlight. Yet, the three Diancang disciples sat on the rocks by the water, not sparing a single glance for the scenery.
“In the Desolate Fortress, an impregnable bastion was being built without anyone knowing. Jeong Yeon-shin, the Flash Art…” the Diancang Dance Sword, dressed in a white Taoist robe, trailed off as she looked at the Small Sword Empress.
Her calm temperament was well-known within the Diancang Sect. Whenever her martial siblings ventured into the Jianghu, she played the role of strategist. She was the only Rising Star capable of keeping her eldest martial sister, the Small Sword Empress Chwi So-ok, in check.
“I don’t know what kind of variable he will become in the Jianghu. He is a rising expert who defies all expectations. If he attends the Alliance's Foundation Ceremony, he will finally reveal himself at the heart of the Jianghu… I wonder how the Orthodox Factions will react.”
“Isn’t it already hard to call him a rookie? It’s arrogant of us mountain sects to act this way just because we haven’t established relations with him. What exactly are you worried about?” the Small Sword Empress asked blankly, stroking the rock.
The Diancang Dance Sword swallowed hard.
“The problem is, it’s hard to predict the Alliance's stance. In my view, the Flash Art, who has been making a name for himself, will likely be the one sent to the Martial World Alliance.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the nature of the Foundation Ceremony will change depending on what kind of expert is sent as the representative.”
“That’s just how the Murim is, whether it’s the White Path, the Black Way, or the Heterodox Sects.” The Small Sword Empress’s voice flowed with a rhythmic cadence.
The Diancang Dance Sword sighed. “We were the ones who picked the fight, and the Flash Art wasn’t in the wrong. Hostility without reason makes no sense. But the problem is that the Alliance’s stance will be different.”
“Since the very reason for its establishment was the annihilation of the Hwangbo Clan and the slaughter of the Namgung direct line,” Sa Do-ryeong chimed in, adopting a deliberately nonchalant tone. He was a young man trying his best to appear magnanimous ever since his defeat by the Lazy Flame Dragon.
The Small Sword Empress chuckled, finding her junior martial brother quite endearing.
“Yes. Even if only for the sake of appearances, it will be difficult for them to get along with the Desolate Fortress.”
“If they were to follow public sentiment and justice, they should side with the Desolate Fortress. But the fact that the Flash Art is a turbulent teenage expert is another problem.”
“Ah.” At that moment, the Small Sword Empress smiled faintly, running a hand down the long hair that spilled over her shoulder. “So that’s what you’re worried about? It certainly is a concern. He spat such insults even at the Leader of the Pure Demon Alliance. What if he directs that same behavior toward the elders of the Righteous Factions…?”
Her lips curved into a soft arc.
“Haa.”
A strange breath escaped her, hovering on the boundary between a chuckle and an exclamation. Her demeanor was truly uninhibited. Sa Do-ryeong flushed for no reason and turned his head away, while the Diancang Dance Sword let out a deep sigh.
“If something major happens at the Foundation Ceremony… what attitude should our Nine Sects adopt?”
“Well, first, shouldn’t he rise to the Black Rank? To be the representative at the Sect Founding Ceremony, that is. I heard that boy, the Flash Art, hasn’t officially taken the seat of Unit Commander yet.”
“That is not for you to worry about.”
A man in blue martial robes walked toward them with a ramrod-straight posture, exuding an extraordinary aura. It began with his slender, finely chiseled jawline. Though his skin was so pale he hardly looked like a martial artist, his high-bridged nose carried the sharp spirit of a swordsman.
“That group of theirs is full of stunning people. If the Flash Art grows any more, he might look even better than Young Hero Namgung. In that case, shouldn’t they be called the Flower Unit instead of the Radiant Wing Unit? Their swordplay is extraordinary, too,” the Small Sword Empress muttered with somewhat dreamy eyes. She stood beside the Diancang Dance Sword, who was bowing her head and slightly covering her face with her hand.
Sa Do-ryeong, biting his lip, stepped down from the rock. He walked forward and asked, “White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin. What is your business here?”
“I came to fetch you. The Black Rank Promotion Test is about to begin.”
The sheer power in his voice projected the presence of a formidable expert. Namgung Hwa-shin’s pitch-black eyes stared at the group from the Diancang Sect. His words instantly captured their attention. A strange light gleamed in the eyes of the Diancang experts.
“Are you saying you show such things to outsiders?” the Diancang Dance Sword asked, stepping up beside Sa Do-ryeong.
Namgung Hwa-shin nodded silently. “It was something the Unit Commander let slip during a discussion. I came here of my own accord, but I have obtained permission from the Chief Steward's Office.”
“If you mean the Unit Commander…” Slowly, the Small Sword Empress Chwi So-ok stood up. An interest like a cluster of stars gleamed in her eyes. “Is it the Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing, or the Commander of the Radiant Wing Unit?”
“…The next Commander of the Demonlight Wing,” Namgung Hwa-shin replied calmly.
* * *
The boy, now changed into blue martial robes, walked down a long corridor. The antique wooden floor beneath his feet gleamed with a dark, ink-like luster. It was carved from rock, yet it was impossibly smooth, a testament to how meticulously it was maintained.
The corridor was incredibly long. At a normal walking pace, the end seemed nowhere in sight. The servant guiding him scurried ahead.
“Are you sure I’m the right person?” Heonwon Chang asked abruptly from beside him.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded slightly. “The Lazy Flame Dragon is merely a Nameless Disciple, so he lacks the proper status. Shin So-bin is from the prestigious Shin Clan, which might give the impression that I’m relying on family influence. The others are my seniors, which would be inappropriate. That left no one to keep by my side but Young Hero Heonwon.”
“What about Young Hero Namgung?”
“He belongs to the Heaven-Aligned Wing, does he not?”
“Hmm.”
“The Radiant Wing Unit has officially disbanded. It’s only natural, as everyone has their own units to return to. The fact that they lent me their strength is a debt I can hardly repay in a lifetime,” the boy said.
Heonwon Chang’s lips curled into a grin. “I shall assist you better than anyone. Well, I only volunteered because you said I just needed to stand beside you.”
“I always trust you.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s words were sincere. There was something peculiar about Heonwon Chang, who had entered the fortress alongside him after taking the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam. Even though his martial arts weren’t particularly outstanding, he didn’t seem like the type who would ever die a dog’s death in some foreign land. At times, his claims about using only seventy percent of his true qi actually sounded like the truth.
Hero of the Desolate Fortress, Heonwon Chang.
‘His good character is his greatest asset,’ the boy thought. He realized once again that among the experts he had met in the Main Fortress, few were genuinely malicious. Except for a very select few like Ju Yeon-jeong of the Desolate Ma Clan, everyone had lent him their strength. To say he was blessed with good people would be an understatement. It was pure luck.
Step.
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor. A massive door blocked their path, its doorknob decorated with a golden dragon head. The door itself was easily ten feet tall.
“It is here,” the servant said, stepping aside and bowing.
Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated. The sheer presence leaking from within forced him to a halt. There were many sources of qi seeping through the gaps in the door, not just one or two.
The boy suddenly wondered: would the people he was about to meet be like the experts he had encountered in the Main Fortress so far?
‘No.’ He shook his head inwardly. They couldn’t possibly be the same.
The Central Plains of the Ming Dynasty was home to all kinds of people. It was difficult to judge their individual values, words, and actions, even when measured by the countless standards derived from the teachings of various sects, including the Four Books and Three Classics. Among them, the experts of the Jianghu were said to possess the most unique personalities. They were people who wielded transcendent principles and immense power with human bodies; it was only natural.
And if these were the top seventeen experts of the Desolate Fortress…
‘They will be second to none.’
He grasped the doorknob. Was it pure gold? The cool sensation quickly warmed, as if reflecting the power of those inside.
“……”
The door was so well-oiled it opened without a sound. Jeong Yeon-shin observed the view that silently unfolded before him.
The massive table, which looked as if several logs had been joined together, was a secondary concern. A heavy pressure washed over him. Seats surrounded a round table large enough for a dozen people to lie down on comfortably. Each chair looked like the throne of a Great Sect Leader. The grayish-white backrests, carved from marble, were taller than an average person and more than worthy of being called Grandmaster's Chairs.
There were eighteen of them. The seats of the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, the Vice Commander, and the sixteen other Unit Commanders.
‘This is…’
Wish-for-Peace One Sword Hall.
The highest echelon of the Desolate Fortress. He had heard this was where the Unit Commanders' meetings were held, and where his and Namgung Hwa-shin’s assignments had been decided upon their entry.
“Mmh.” Heonwon Chang, standing behind him, let out a low groan.
Jeong Yeon-shin knew why. The hall was saturated with waves of qi. It was a space unlike any he had ever experienced, and this was with only six of the eighteen seats occupied.
Twelve pairs of eyes stared at the boy—the gazes of those seated in the Grandmaster's Chairs and the attendants standing beside them. An immense momentum surged toward him like a towering tidal wave.
‘Six.’
Six pitch-black robes were etched into his vision. Six Black Rank Unit Commanders of the Desolate Fortress. Three were women, and three were men, their postures varying greatly. A man leaned lazily back in his chair, looking down at the boy with only his eyes; a Brightfolk woman sat with a perfectly upright posture, quietly observing him; a girl rested her chin on her hand with one knee pulled up…
The seventeen Unit Commanders of the Divine Sword Corps. Just three of them—the Commanders of the Demonlight Wing, the Thread-Annihilation Unit, and the Azure Sky Unit—had slain the Hwangbo Clan Head without a single casualty. It was they who had recently engraved the might of the Black Rank, the color of ultimate power, into the Jianghu. With six of them gathered here, it was hard to even imagine the spectacle they could create. Even as allies, the sense of intimidation was on another level.
It was then that someone spoke.
“I am not looking down on you as a greenhorn, but…” It was a man with a pure white sword resting on his knees, a swordsman whose thin, dark eyebrows resembled blades. “You seem to be trying to take my precious subordinate, as if you’ve already been promoted to the Black Rank. Even if you were a Unit Commander, that would be bad manners,” he said.
He was someone Jeong Yeon-shin knew, though they had never met. He only knew him from descriptions.
‘Ha Do-un, Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing.’
Namgung Hwa-shin's direct superior. He was famous for his White Lightning Radiant Sword Force, said to be on par with the Demonlight Formula saber technique of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. He was the man who had slaughtered three hundred martial soldiers of the Deep Martial Alliance in half a day. In some corners of the Jianghu, he was called the White Lightning Sword Demon.
He stared at Jeong Yeon-shin with a cold, stern face. “I wish to teach my junior some manners. If any other Unit Commander wishes to step forward, please speak up now.”
“……”
Two emotions sprouted in the boy's heart: apologetic regret and, incredibly, annoyance.
‘Did Young Hero Namgung do something?’
These were emotions he had dissociated out of fear of death, feelings that had been gradually unearthed during his journey to Sichuan. Before he could fully compose himself, he was faced with a matter that was ambiguous to even call his responsibility.
Suddenly, the Halo in his heart stirred. As his qi rotated, a sword was erected in his mind. His thoughts warped of their own accord. If it works, great; if not, whatever.
‘A feint.’
The moment Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes turned toward Ha Do-un, Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing—
Shring!
Ha Do-un drew his sword like a flash of lightning and shot to his feet.
“Hmm?”
“Isn’t that a bit much? Are you going to start a sword fight right off the bat?”
While the other Unit Commanders furrowed their brows, Ha Do-un, who had been sharply scanning his surroundings, slowly sheathed his sword. His final gaze landed on Jeong Yeon-shin, and he stared intently at him until the moment he sat back down, as if he suspected the boy had pulled some kind of trick.
“What did you do?” Heonwon Chang muttered from beside him, a bewildered look on his face.
His voice, which he hadn't bothered to lower, echoed loudly through the meeting hall. For a split second, even Ha Do-un’s expression shifted.
‘Young Hero Heonwon is more of a brother to me than an actual brother,’ the boy, who was feigning ignorance with his arms crossed, thought with inward admiration. He had learned something in an instant. So this is how you provoke someone.