Chapter 169: Manifestation (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 169: Manifestation (5)
"Yeongcheon? Anyone can do that."
Jeong Yeon-shin muttered, clasping his hands behind his back. A brief silence fell.
The expert from the Deep Martial Alliance, who had been blasted a good ten feet from the watchtower, plummeted straight down. His ragged, dazed breaths were thick with shock.
He fell helplessly, like a bird with broken wings, but the single blow hadn't been enough to kill him. His energy signature could still be felt, though it wavered precariously.
Of course, the boy thought.
It wasn't Sword Kinesis. Jeong Yeon-shin didn't know such an ultimate sword art; it was a martial principle he had yet to grasp. He had merely used the subtle principles of Myriad Blossoms Rain to mimic Sword Kinesis, employing it on a whim. This meant the attack lacked the destructive shockwave of internal power. Since it wasn't a hail of hidden weapons designed to sever meridians, it lacked the force to instantly extinguish the tenacious life of a martial arts master.
That was fine. He had done it on purpose.
"It has a sharp edge. You've maintained it well," the boy said.
The young Commander of the Demonlight Wing gestured with his chin toward the fallen expert in the distance, then glanced at Moyong Myeong-jun, who was staring at him in utter bewilderment. The gesture was clear: Go retrieve your sword, and bring that enemy back with you.
Looking at you gives me a headache, Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself.
"What...!"
Moyong Myeong-jun's eyes widened. Born into a prestigious clan that claimed the Xianbei of Liaodong as their ancestors, he had been raised as the highly revered successor of a prominent martial family. He had never bowed his head to anyone but his clan elders. Even at the Alliance headquarters, he was respected by the leaders of minor and mid-sized sects. He had never imagined he would suffer such humiliation from a boy who had yet to come of age.
I shouldn't have hosted that banquet so hastily, he thought, feeling a sting of humiliation. Yet, he maintained the composure of a nobleman as his mind cooled. He was the one who had rented the hall where Ak Ye-rim had sought to test the Commander's character, and he had personally sent the invitations. That must have been what aroused the Commander's suspicion.
But outside the Alliance, Jeong Yeon-shin was different. He carried himself like a supreme expert of another caliber entirely.
As Moyong Myeong-jun took his reluctant steps, he felt a gaze piercing his back—a cold, arrogant aura.
Let's see you act like this when we return to headquarters.
Moyong Myeong-jun slung the groaning Deep Martial Alliance expert over his shoulder. As he did, he saw a young man, just as irritating as the Commander, nodding in approval. According to his subordinates, this was a man whose hero's headband changed style daily. He was known as Great Hero Heonwon Chang of the Desolate Fortress.
"Our Commander says that while he apologizes for borrowing your sword in a hurry, his admiration far outweighs it. The precious sword of the Moyong Clan truly lives up to its reputation. To think it shattered that bastard's Body Protection Qi using nothing but the propulsion of the Release Formula."
The statement saved face while subtly mocking Moyong Myeong-jun. It was also a way of elevating his own Commander, reminding him that Jeong Yeon-shin had subdued an expert with a sword strike that carried no internal power. It was a silent command to do as he was told without complaint.
"..."
Moyong Myeong-jun returned in silence and set the warrior down. Fearing he would cause excessive bleeding, he left the sword embedded in the man's body.
Jeong Yeon-shin looked down at him. Even at a glance, his condition was dire. He was barely clinging to life, the wound survivable only through the exceptional vitality of a trained martial artist.
Just then, the ambushers surged forward.
Whoosh!
The sound of feet kicking violently off the ground echoed from all directions, the vibrations heavy. It was an extraordinary movement technique.
Men clad in leather armor charged like massive warhorses. Waves of True Qi burst from the Yongquan points on the soles of their feet, generating a strange shockwave. The continuous thudding sounded like galloping hooves.
The Deep Martial Alliance. A martial army raised by the Feudatory King of Henan Province.
The brief pursuit was over; the real battle had begun. Jeong Yeon-shin recalled his journey with Namgung Se-jin, where he had witnessed the essence of orthodox sword arts—the very embodiment of expelling demons and eradicating evil. The memory of Se-jin unleashing the Imperial Sword Form to ruthlessly decapitate members of the Deep Martial Alliance was still vivid.
It meant that even in Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes, they deserved to die. The Azure Qilin, Namgung Se-jin. If he hadn't been dragged away by family matters, would he be standing here with them now?
The boy quietly parted his lips.
"Leave only two alive."
Lazy Flame Dragon and Heonwon Chang reacted instantly. This was real combat. Without a word of reply, the two stepped forward. The unranked and white-ranked warriors of the Desolate Fortress clashed with the Deep Martial Alliance's pursuit team.
Vrooom!
Waves of internal power erupted from both sides, heavy with heat and killing intent. A scream rang out first from Lazy Flame Dragon's position, accompanied by the smell of burning flesh. Moments later, the sharp sound of tearing air echoed from Heonwon Chang's side.
Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his head slightly. The man pierced by the Myriad Blossoms Rain gasped for breath. He wouldn't last long. The sword borrowed from Moyong Myeong-jun had entered his abdomen from below, slicing through his stomach, grazing his liver, and exiting through his back. In a place with only martial artists and no healers, there was no hope for him. The vitality sustained by his internal power was the only thing keeping him breathing.
The man seemed to know this as well. Despite his convulsing chest, his pupils were calm. It was the gaze of a warrior facing the Sanzu River of the underworld. A martial artist's spirit was formidable, even at death's door.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke. "I hear you train your martial arts by plundering to fill your bellies. Walking the martial path during a famine must be an extraordinary hardship."
"Kill... me," the man gasped.
Perhaps he had trained his internal cultivation to a considerable level, for his breathing was surprisingly steady despite the fatal wound. The boy stared at him quietly before speaking again.
"Remember this: you were defeated by the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress."
He stood tall and proud. The man lying at his feet looked up, and Jeong Yeon-shin merely lowered his gaze to meet his eyes.
"This Commander is the personal disciple of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress. How does it feel to be pierced by true Sword Kinesis? It is an ultimate technique you could never hope to learn in your lifetime, is it not?"
"A black rank at that age... and Sword Kinesis on top of that. Hard to believe." The man smiled faintly, his words halting and disjointed. "The rumored Commander of the Demonlight Wing... he really did exist."
"I have shown you respect. Are you willing to answer my questions?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked calmly.
Only then did a look of deep emotion wash over the man's face. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing had revealed his title and spoken of his ultimate technique. A supreme black-ranked expert of the Desolate Fortress, whose name was spreading across the world, had shown him courtesy. For a warrior of the heterodox sects, this was an honor he could scarcely have imagined.
"Ha."
His fading breath ended in a chuckle. Facing death, he felt an indescribable emotion. Even a monster from a great sect of the Thirteen Heavens was still a martial artist, still a human. The man slowly opened his mouth.
"Since I'm on my way out... I have no secrets to keep. What do you wish to know?"
"Your route."
"It splits in two. West Peak Road and Seven Crowds Gorge..."
"The numbers? For each."
"One hundred and fifty, and two hundred."
"Which way is the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost?"
"I don't know."
"What?"
"The Sword Ghost often enters the mountains to train. He has no interest in leading. His two disciples decide the destinations. I do not know which group he joined."
The man's speech grew smoother. It was the Final Radiance—the moment a martial artist's last breath of internal energy is exhaled along with their remaining life force. Jeong Yeon-shin compared the man's words with the document from the Sword Saint, conjuring a map in his mind to review the information.
The numbers and their route aligned closely. The information seemed trustworthy. The boy looked down at the man in silence for a moment.
The dying man's breathing was growing shallow. Aside from any lingering attachment to life, he seemed satisfied as a martial artist.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought of his uncle, Ma Jin, the Naraka Reaper. His uncle's might as he swept through the martial world had been colossal, even before Jeong Yeon-shin had entered the sect. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing was renowned throughout the lands, famous for his Demonlight Formula, his sublime weapon arts, and his reputation as a righteous hero who protected the common people.
That was why this expert from the Deep Martial Alliance was closing his eyes with a satisfied expression. Because a noble figure had graced his final moments.
And yet, he is just a member of the heterodox sects who plundered rice, ruined families, and showed no mercy to the common people. Suddenly thinking of the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect, the boy calmly parted his lips.
"Actually, it wasn't Sword Kinesis."
"What...?"
"It was just a simple Release Formula. I doubt you had any intention of apologizing to the commoners of this village. When you wake up in the Sword Tree Hell, tell them you were done in by a boy who hasn't even reached twenty."
"...!"
The man's eyes widened.
Jeong Yeon-shin swept a cold gaze over his upper body. Well-defined muscles constricted around the puncture wound. He had trained his external arts to a considerable level—a state difficult to achieve unless one had been eating very well. He was a monster who had fed on the blood and tears of the common people.
The boy spoke again, his tone freezing.
"A body built on plunder. How pathetic."
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing had judged his worth. To any martial artist, such words carried immense weight. As the Small Sword Empress beside him let out a sharp gasp, the focus in the man's eyes began to blur.
Thud!
Lazy Flame Dragon, who had returned at some point, kicked the man's head. A brief crack of bone echoed from his foot. His neck snapped, killing him instantly.
"Well, I'll be the one to dirty my foot. Just make sure you credit this young master's contribution, Commander," Lazy Flame Dragon said with a smirk.
He moved like someone who had seen countless battles during his days as the Young Master of the Hwangbo Clan, showing no hesitation in killing a defenseless enemy. Despite his playful words, a stark decisiveness was evident in his every action.
It was enough for Jeong Yeon-shin to realize that when they returned to the fortress and reorganized the Demonlight Wing, there would be times he would have to place this man in the vanguard, whether he liked it or not.
Is it possible to advance two ranks at once, from unranked to blue? Would I, as the Commander, have to pull some strings? the boy wondered. It was worth considering. Without showing his thoughts, he gave a blunt command.
"...Clean this up."
"Clean it up," Lazy Flame Dragon repeated, looking around at the young warriors of the Martial World Alliance. This was a place to honor the deceased commoners. Since he had done the heavy lifting, he was telling them to clear away the corpses. Beside him, Heonwon Chang nodded lazily.
Silence still hung in the air.
Ak Ye-rim's reaction was one of clear disapproval, evident in the slight frown on her smooth forehead. She had never held a favorable opinion of Jeong Yeon-shin, and she certainly didn't look kindly upon him mocking a helpless, dying enemy.
However, she was the only one frowning. Jegal Hyeon and Moyong Myeong-jun remained calm. Having studied both martial arts and scholarly texts, they possessed a broader perspective and could guess at the intent behind the young Commander's words and actions.
The temperament of a proud, righteous hero. Our clan head won't like him, thought Moyong Myeong-jun.
If his character is reflected in his swordplay, then a martial art rich in feints would be perfect for dealing with him, Jegal Hyeon mused.
They laid out mental ink and paper, recording the boy's every action. How this information would be used would depend on the future moves of the Martial World Alliance, the Jegal Clan, and the Moyong Clan.
"So Myriad Blossoms Rain can be used like that? How do you focus the internal power of the absorption technique onto a single point?" Small Sword Empress Chwi So-ok asked openly, though she sounded as if she were talking to herself. Curiosity sparkled in her languidly drooping eyes. She was simply expressing her pure interest in martial arts.
The young Commander's eyes met hers. Ever since Sichuan, he had consistently ignored the Small Sword Empress of the Diancang Sect. Yet, despite his cold treatment, Chwi So-ok only ever smiled blankly and kept asking for a lesson. Constantly.
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly thought of the Diancang Shooting Sun Sword Technique, a legendary art said to be able to pierce the sun with the tip of a blade. The Radiant Brilliance Sword Style lacks a thrusting form, he thought.
"Oh? Do you want to try? My sword Qi is always ready," the Small Sword Empress asked, her face lighting up. Her intuition was uncanny.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt a flicker of interest. He was in the process of weaving together a new sword style, and the techniques of the Nine Sects would be of immense help. Once he killed the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, it might be worth serious consideration.
"Later," the boy said, shaking his head. "He said West Peak Road and Seven Crowds Gorge. We'll split up. With the slaying of the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost as our top priority..."
It was then.
"Young Master Moyong."
Gongson Min, a young man about Jeong Yeon-shin's age, stepped forward. He was staring intently at the sword Moyong Myeong-jun had just pulled from the corpse. Greed was written all over his face, a look that clashed with the brilliant, lightning-like light in his eyes. He also seemed quite desperate.
"Sell me that sword."
"What?" Moyong Myeong-jun asked.
"How much is a precious sword of the Moyong Clan worth...? I brought quite a bit of gold."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"I know everything. That sword was imbued with the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's Myriad Blossoms Rain. If word gets out that this is the sword used by Seomye, the Hidden King Amidst Flowers, in Sichuan, wealthy merchants will spend a fortune on it. It's an incredible collector's item!"
"..."
"Please, give it to me."
An untimely squabble broke out.
It was said that many in the martial world lived in worlds of their own. The realm was vast, and uniform education was rare. Even if the teachings of the Four Books and Three Classics were noble, the values of local aristocrats who had become superhuman through martial training varied drastically. Some were elegant, while others were barbaric and self-indulgent. Such was the nature of this chaotic era.
Moyong Myeong-jun, looking utterly dumbfounded, and Gongson Min, who had gone so far as to grab the sword's hilt, were no different. The behavior of the experts from the Martial World Alliance was difficult to predict.
Creating a new sword style, slaying the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, dominating the Sect Founding Ceremony, and then crossing swords with the Sword Saint...
If only the warriors of the Alliance weren't here, he could enjoy the process so much more. Jeong Yeon-shin fell silent for a moment, then thought, I should only take Jegal Hyeon and the Small Sword Empress with me.