Chapter 172: Manifestation (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 172: Manifestation (8)
The stench of over a hundred and twenty corpses clung to West Peak Road like a thick fog.
Every single one of them had been turned into wandering spirits while brandishing their blades. Some had died right in the middle of dragging their captives away.
They had spared no one—men, women, and children alike. Powerless commoners.
The boy's robe was stained an even deeper shade of black. With each successive battle, more blood seeped into the fabric.
Thunk!
The young Commander of the Demonlight Wing drove his sword into the ground. The battle was over. The gazes directed at the boy were mixed.
Alongside eyes filled with fear, there was awe and profound gratitude. The captives, finally freed from the bastards' clutches, bowed repeatedly.
“Thank you... thank you...!”
A woman dressed in a shabby hemp robe grasped Jeong Yeon-shin's hand. Her dirt-caked palm covered the boy's blood-stained knuckles.
“Please, return safely. They won't be able to raid your homes again,” Jeong Yeon-shin said.
A small smile bloomed on the elderly woman's face, a wrinkled kindness forming around her lips.
It was a smile worn despite leaving behind dead relatives and a devastated home. Even if she was uneducated, she possessed a deep wisdom. She wanted to show only her best side to the young hero who had saved her life.
“I pray that good fortune in battle follows you as well, young warrior.”
Jeong Yeon-shin quietly watched the woman's receding figure. Had his mother lived, she would have been around that age.
He hoped that all the misfortune in her life had been spent on this ordeal. May she be safe from now on.
“Isn't your attitude a bit too different?”
Rustle.
Ak Ye-rim asked offhandedly as she approached his side.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze toward her for a moment. The noble family's precious daughter wore a strange expression.
Her face was hard to read, but the boy didn't bother trying to fathom her thoughts.
One fact remained unchanged: the Azure Qilin, Namgung Se-jin, had met his end at his hands.
Ak Ye-rim of the Spear and Staff.
One wing of the Nine Dragons and Nine Phoenixes, renowned for possessing both outstanding martial prowess and peerless beauty. She was the late-born niece of Ak Su-rim, the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress.
The boy turned his head away.
She hated him. While he understood her feelings, he had no desire to go out of his way to win her favor.
His time was far too short to waste mental energy on things he could not change.
Instead, his interest lay with the Seon-ryong, Jegal Hyeon. He was a man from whom there was much to learn.
“There should be about thirty of them left,” Jegal Hyeon said, sitting in the center of the camp. He was perched on a rock that had been sliced horizontally with perfect, mirror-like smoothness.
It was an unnatural seat. Everyone in the group guessed that this makeshift stone throne was the result of a single sword strike from the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost.
Such impossibly clean swordsmanship could only belong to an exceptionally sublime master.
In front of the stone seat sat a Go board. It seemed the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost had been playing a game here before leaving.
Enjoying a leisurely game of Go in the middle of a heavily guarded camp belonging to a great sect? It made no sense unless one possessed the absolute authority of an elder.
White and black stones were intertwined in a complex pattern across the grid.
Since the skirmishes had thus far been contained to the outskirts of the camp, the board remained entirely undisturbed.
“You said you were the young master of the Jegal Clan,” the boy said.
“These days, I am better known as the eldest son of the true power behind the Martial World Alliance. After all, one often hears rumors that the Jegal Clan Leader is practically the number one expert of the Orthodox factions.”
Jegal Hyeon gestured with an open palm to welcome the boy, offering a somewhat self-deprecating smile.
Having spent two nights together, the three of them felt no awkwardness in conversing.
“Is it true that the Sword Saint is merely a figurehead?”
“He possesses immense martial power and renown, but he has no backing. He was the perfect fit for the Alliance Leader's seat. The clan leaders are constantly aligning and realigning with one another, so the figurehead they put forward had to be someone without actual political power. Certain clan leaders took the lead in that scheme... but I would rather not speak of them.”
Answering evasively, Jegal Hyeon changed the subject. He seemed highly reluctant to speak of his own father.
“The remaining forces will likely all return today or tomorrow. It is fortunate that we have severely depleted their strength. We were lucky. To have reduced their numbers by this much before facing the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost...”
It was true. Out of a hundred and fifty men, they had cleared away over a hundred and twenty corpses.
Though so many had died over the span of two days, the expressions of Jegal Hyeon and Ak Ye-rim remained largely unchanged.
Such was the true meaning of Expelling Demons and Eradicating Evil. Orthodox martial artists could be as ruthless as they pleased when dealing with the Heterodox sects.
“Does she really wield Sword Kinesis?” the boy asked as he sat down opposite him. He was referring to the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost of the Deep Martial Alliance.
While Ak Ye-rim raised an eyebrow at being completely ignored, a faint smile played on Jegal Hyeon's lips.
“There is no way to know for sure. It is true that the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost is renowned as an undefeated swordsman in Henan, and her movements have been relatively well-documented... but even the righteous heroes of the Beggar Sect have failed to analyze her sword art. It is a pity that we only have rampant rumors claiming her strikes are like flashes of light. There is a rumor that she once boasted she could defeat any Black Rank expert of the Desolate Fortress with a single sword, but its authenticity is uncertain.”
“...Renowned as an undefeated expert? I heard she was an elder.”
“It means she has lived as a peak expert for a very long time. It signifies that she is an extraordinarily powerful master, so it is worth keeping in mind. The internal Qi gong she has mastered is likely not one of those fast-decaying arts of the Heterodox sects, either. She will be terrifyingly strong, but simply knowing that your opponent is a veteran swordsman allows for some preparation, does it not? Especially for a martial artist of your caliber, Commander.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I refer to the geniuses seen only once in a thousand generations. Though the size of their vessels may differ, I had two such individuals around me as well. The Lazy Flame Dragon and the Azure Qilin.”
“...I heard you are of the same generation.”
“Yes. The three of us... the young masters of the Jegal, Namgung, and Hwangbo clans are exactly the same age. It is a rare occurrence, and quite interesting, so we kept in touch, even if from afar. We met at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering and regularly exchanged letters to ask after each other.”
Jegal Hyeon, quietly studying the Go board, lightly flicked his iron fan. The pure white ribs of the fan spread wide, and the side engraved with an elegant crane lightly veiled his lips.
“Ah, she plays moves that are highly faithful to the Ten Commandments of Go. She never... departs from the core principles. It looks as though she has captured both sides' stones entirely by herself... The Yeongcheon Sword Ghost might be surprisingly rigid.”
He muttered to himself before addressing the boy again.
The Ten Commandments of Go. These were the ten commonly known secrets to mastering the game.
He was seamlessly offering advice about the Sword Ghost while bringing up his own history. Jegal Hyeon was indeed no ordinary man.
Though his words and actions were perfectly coherent, his true depths remained difficult to read.
“Did you know? It is no exaggeration to say that all of life is contained within Go. Even the temperaments of geniuses can be expressed through the principles of the Ten Commandments of Go. Whether it be the Lazy Flame Dragon or the Azure Qilin,” Jegal Hyeon said in a calm tone.
Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin felt a bolt of lightning strike his consciousness. A tremor flashed through his mind.
A faint sensation, akin to profound inspiration, lingered in his thoughts. The image of a single, peerless sword rose within his mind's eye.
The boy slowly parted his lips.
“Tell me more.”
Jegal Hyeon's smile, visible just above the rim of his fan, deepened.
“First of all, I must ask you to keep this from the Lazy Flame Dragon. I was not particularly close with him. He tends to avoid debauchery.”
“And?”
“We only associated because the Azure Qilin maintained ties with both of us. If I had to describe the Lazy Flame Dragon, the principle of Measured Ease Within the Bounds would suit him best. Though he seems to have a short temper, he keeps his boundaries and remains relaxed. One could say he knows exactly when to step back and when to push forward. He is exceptionally skilled at reading the situation.”
“That doesn't resonate with me. Not him.”
Jeong Yeon-shin ruthlessly dismissed the topic. Jegal Hyeon stared quietly at the boy before suddenly asking:
“How did the Azure Qilin go? Only by knowing his end can I truly discuss his character.”
No hidden motive could be seen in his expression. However, a slight flinch could be felt from behind. It was likely Ak Ye-rim.
The Azure Qilin, Namgung Se-jin.
Ever since Jeong Yeon-shin had set foot in the Martial World Alliance as the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, the memory of Namgung Se-jin had constantly plagued him.
Wherever he went, he heard Namgung Se-jin's name. It was no less persistent than the agonizing pain that flared in his knees every night.
Jeong Yeon-shin was only human. At times, he grew weary of it all. The Orthodox martial artists who despised him. The guilt of having sent a truly good man across the Sanzu River.
Even though they had fought a fair life-and-death duel as martial artists, the fact that he had killed a righteous hero weighed heavily on his soul.
He simply did not show it. It wasn't as if he had wanted things to turn out this way.
The boy spoke with feigned composure.
“He scolded his family members when they tried to do something to me. He told them not to defile his death.”
“...He passed away in the spirit of Sacrificing a Stone for Initiative.”
Jegal Hyeon nodded slowly.
“It is the principle of seizing the initiative even at the cost of sacrificing a stone, but this 'initiative' can also represent a 'greater meaning.' It is a teaching to clearly distinguish between what is of low value and what is of high value. The Azure Qilin discarded his shell as the young master of the Namgung Clan and chose to be the martial artist Namgung Se-jin. In the end, he departed as a noble swordsman.”
Though a strange emotion lingered in his eyes, his words were clear and precise.
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin silently lowered his gaze. The Go board filled his vision. He noticed a spot where the white stones were unusually sparse compared to the black ones.
Sacrificing a Stone for Initiative. The principle of seizing the initiative even if it meant sacrificing a few stones.
“In the past,” the boy slowly parted his lips. “Would it be acceptable for me to use what I gained from the Azure Qilin for my own personal ends?”
Whoosh!
Right at that moment, hostile presences began to rise from all directions.
There were about thirty of them.
They were completely different from the ones they had slain so far. A robust, powerful aura closed in on them like a typhoon.
The remaining martial artists of the Deep Martial Alliance were surrounding them. They seemed to have finally realized the disaster that had befallen their comrades.
They had approached stealthily from afar and only now unleashed their internal power waves.
“They're different from before! I heard there were experts personally trained by the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, but...!”
As Ak Ye-rim unstrapped the spear from her back, a brief silence fell over the camp.
Jegal Hyeon quietly stared at the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing before him. He did not know exactly what this genius was talking about, but one truth resonated clearly.
Looking at Jeong Yeon-shin, the genius of the Jegal Clan thought:
This boy holds the martial artist Namgung Se-jin in his heart more deeply than anyone else.
The Seon-ryong, Jegal Hyeon, spoke.
“You said it at the banquet, didn't you? That even if you reached the Purple Rank, you would still consider yourself equal to the Azure Qilin.”
“I did.”
“To take a dead man as your lifelong rival...? That is truly a harsh fate. But no matter what you achieve, Commander, the gap between you two will forever remain constant. If it were the Azure Qilin, he would actually be pleased. For as your standing rises, his own stature rises with it, does it not?”
Those words.
One could easily call it self-consolation. Yet, it was an explanation that completely convinced the boy who lived on borrowed time.
The Seon-ryong was truly a worthy descendant of Zhuge Liang. The image of the Azure Qilin, standing firm even with his flank torn open, flashed through his mind.
He wished to respect him, but not be bound by him. That was exactly how he felt right now.
The boy slowly stood up from the Go board.
The newly arrived martial artists of the Deep Martial Alliance stared at him. Unless he was entirely mad, he could not possibly be this relaxed.
It meant he had been casually playing Go in the midst of over a hundred corpses.
The new Commander of the Demonlight Wing. His composure was so absolute it bordered on insanity.
“Geomyehwa's killer struck first. This is a significant loss. How shall we ever compensate for it? Perhaps the head of a young Black Rank from the Desolate Fortress will suffice.”
A middle-aged man wearing black hand-guards stepped forward. A sharp light gleamed in his narrow eyes.
An aura like a shimmering heat haze enveloped his entire body. He was no ordinary expert.
The irregular ripples spreading from the ground beneath his boots bore witness to the terrifying depth of his internal energy.
“Was your harvest good?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. The presences of the thirty men surrounding them from all directions were incredibly distinct.
Auras at the level of the Blue Rank could be felt here and there. It wasn't just one or two. This was a gathering of elite experts.
“What?” the middle-aged man asked.
The corners of the boy's mouth curled up slightly.
“Aren't you farmers who harvest people? You must be the most wretched farmers in the world.”
“The brat has quite a tongue,” the man chuckled. His composure remained entirely unshaken. He seemed to possess a deep, calculating mind.
“I have heard much about you. A young peak expert who uses raw swordplay, fist-and-palm techniques, and wields a bizarre internal Qi gong. The Eldest Son of our alliance was deeply grieved after losing Geomyehwa... I did not expect to repay that blood debt like this. How many nights have you stayed awake with your eyes wide open? One day? Or is it two?”
At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin was thinking of his eternal rival.
Let us meet much later, the boy spoke in his heart. I want to live for a very long time.
Suddenly, a single sword manifested in his mind. The dam of enlightenment he had consciously kept closed finally burst open.
The breakwater he had built to mourn the deceased burned pure white.
Shlick!
He drew the Divine Sword: Northern Light, pulling it free from the earth. Along with the upward trajectory of the draw, the boy raised his right hand high.
A curve of dreamlike brilliance sliced through the air.
His stance was shoulder-width apart, his feet forming a narrow, inverted V-shape. Meanwhile, his right arm rose without a shred of hesitation.
It was a starting stance that pointed the tip of the sword directly toward the heavens.
Sublime sword arts rarely ever contained such a form.
It was a posture assumed only when a swordsman completely disregarded all defense. It was the absolute most aggressive form.
The high stance.
The boy gripped the hilt of his sword in the spirit of Sacrificing a Stone for Initiative.