Chapter 177: The Sword of Autumn (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 177: The Sword of Autumn (5)
Among the warriors of the Desolate Fortress, only one remained at the headquarters of the Martial World Alliance.
White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin.
He was the center of attention. The Blue and White Twin Qilins had long been known as the greatest brothers in the Jianghu, renowned for both their character and their martial arts.
By any standard, Namgung Hwa-shin was a magnificent warrior. He was also rumored to be the next Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing. While a few envied him, the vast majority held him in high regard.
Once Jeong Yeon-shin departed, the number of people seeking out Namgung Hwa-shin surged. Many had kept their distance due to the notorious reputation Ma Jin had built for the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, but now they felt free to approach.
Namgung Hwa-shin found himself dealing with all sorts of situations.
When he received a letter requesting a duel and arrived at the designated meeting place, he was met not with a steel blade, but one forged from words.
"To be honest, Young Master Namgung, I have admired you ever since the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering."
"..."
"Once the Sect Founding Ceremony is over, it will be difficult to see you again, so I gathered the courage to speak. Please, do not answer right away."
He heard this from a fist artist of the Eon Family, under a moonlit sky shrouded in thick mist.
Some secretly delivered love letters, while other women expressed their feelings directly. This was how affairs of the heart were often kindled in the Jianghu. It was a familiar experience for him; he had received countless confessions even before joining the Desolate Fortress. It had been that way ever since he had stepped forward at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering, holding the hands of Namgung Se-jin and Namgung Mi.
He simply hadn't expected to experience it here at the Martial World Alliance as well. He rejected them all.
"I appreciate your feelings. However, I cannot marry in as a matrilocal son-in-law."
"...!"
Not everyone approached him with pure intentions. Some had clear motives, hoping to poach a warrior whose future was bound to be brilliant. Over a hundred and fifty sects were said to have signed the covenant of the Martial World Alliance, and it was hardly uncommon for outstanding men and women to be approached by the opposite sex for strategic reasons.
Namgung Hwa-shin turned away, a bitter taste in his mouth.
He once had a lover, a woman who shared his heart. She was the daughter of a minor merchant who traded tea leaves in Southern Zhili. She had been poisoned to death on Namgung Mi's orders.
It had happened while Namgung Hwa-shin was being raised as the clan's hidden sword. A killing sword of a noble family was not permitted to form relationships with outsiders. He had been forced to bury his lover in his heart, and since then, no other woman had ever caught his eye.
"I know you did not inherit the Imperial Sword Form. In truth, this Jang simply wished to experience your Azure Sky Boundless Sword, Young Hero."
"I once received a lesson from the late Azure Qilin..."
Competitive overtures and wary probes were rampant, but these were mild. The truly malicious were those who attempted to forge marriage alliances or pried into the affairs of the temporary Unit Commander.
The former was tolerable. The latter was the problem.
"I am not asking about the organizational structure of the Desolate Fortress, I am simply curious..."
"Speak."
"I mean the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. What is the standing of that young Black Rank Unit Commander within the Desolate Fortress? Is it not bizarre that the leader of a martial unit considered one of the world's finest is not even twenty? I wonder if he is truly worthy of the devoted allegiance of the world-renowned White Qilin..."
"..."
"Even if it was a fair duel, is he not the one who pierced the Azure Qilin's body? He is the warrior who slew your brother. I am deeply curious about his character. There are many rumors that he is exceedingly arrogant."
"...He is a transparent person. He does what needs to be done, worries when there is cause for concern, and gets angry when he should. It is only his manner of expression that appears haughty. If you wish to know more, you had best come to the Rhyme-Fragrance Court. I, Namgung, shall show you with my sword."
"With your sword? My, I thought you were a gentle soul..."
In truth, no one ever came to the Rhyme-Fragrance Court. Those with shallow minds usually possessed mediocre martial arts as well, and it took no ordinary resolve to clash swords with the White Qilin.
"Young Hero Namgung, a letter has arrived from the Beggar Sect."
He received the document from a servant waiting at the Rhyme-Fragrance Court. It was from the Beggar Sect Successor.
It was an invitation, requesting his presence at the high-level meeting of the Martial World Alliance as the representative of the Desolate Fortress. Since the head of the delegation, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, was absent, he was to attend in his stead as a Blue-Ranked Expert.
He set off immediately.
He took his seat in the meeting hall, which was packed with a galaxy of illustrious experts. There were only two others of his age group: a handsome beggar and a woman whose eyes were covered with a white cloth. In terms of sheer presence, the woman was far more striking.
Her smooth jawline and sharp nose alone made her a beauty capable of toppling empires, but she also possessed a uniquely mysterious aura. Even her smallest gestures drew the gaze of everyone present, regardless of gender. She was said to be the representative of the Ye Family, which had poured a vast fortune into the establishment of the Martial World Alliance.
A key figure.
Just as Namgung Hwa-shin was taking note of her and the Beggar Sect Successor, a middle-aged man in a green robe spoke.
"This is an agenda item regarding the schedule of the Sect Founding Ceremony."
It was the Feng Shui Scholar, Jegal Cheon, the Deputy Chief Strategist of the Alliance. He had pitch-black, sword-like eyebrows. Namgung Hwa-shin's eyes grew cold. He had heard that this man had previously tried to use a formation to play tricks on the Unit Commander. He had a bad feeling about this.
"There are many opinions suggesting we bring the Sect Founding Ceremony forward. In these times, just before the world is plunged into chaos, it is suggested that we declare the launch of the Alliance early to quickly soothe the minds of the people of the Jianghu. I believe this petition carries considerable merit..."
Namgung Hwa-shin's eyes widened.
It was a blatant check. They intended to exclude the Commander of the Demonlight Wing from the Sect Founding Ceremony. They were willing to endure the scandal of their previous schemes, all out of fear of the Desolate Fortress's expert. It seemed they wanted to prevent a situation where the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, whose martial prowess far exceeded his age, would make a laughingstock of the Alliance's experts.
How has the Orthodox Martial World become so petty?
Only a few people wore displeased expressions—namely, the Taoists of the Mount Hua Sect and the warriors of the Tang Clan. The other Nine Sects besides Mount Hua had not attended this meeting, and the noble families were not to be relied upon. The Alliance Leader, the Sword Saint, was nowhere to be seen. The rumors of him being a mere figurehead seemed to be true.
Deputy Chief Strategist Jegal Cheon had brought forward an agenda that was practically a foregone conclusion.
I must stop this, Namgung Hwa-shin thought.
Immediately, the rough, strong hand of the swordsman rose. It was exactly what every expert in the meeting hall had expected. The figures from the noble families wore faint sneers, and the Deputy Chief Strategist offered a polite smile.
"Although envoys do not hold voting rights... I shall listen to your opinion, Young Hero Namgung. Please, take a moment and speak your mind."
It was then that Jegal Cheon's smile vanished.
Another arm had risen in the meeting hall.
It was a snow-white, delicate hand. The young lady of the Ye Family playfully twisted her wrist back and forth.
* * *
At the Seven Crowds Gorge, an intangible wave of internal power filled the hill. It originated from the new Commander of the Demonlight Wing, who held his sword high.
The pressure approached like a skin-flaying gale, and the strong winds of the gorge seemed to billow with a translucent energy. Even this prelude made it clear that this was a high-level sword form.
It was a move Baek Seo-gun had seen once before, the same one they had clashed with when the Commander of the Demonlight Wing had asked if he had the right to speak down to the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost.
Feeling her hair tickle the back of her neck, she spoke with renewed awareness. "You were in a hurry back then. I was curious to see what would happen if you executed it properly."
She spoke as she faced the sword wind head-on.
Baek Seo-gun's arm swept through the air, her short gray hair fluttering spiritedly. Following the subtle principles of the Hand-Controlled Sword, her blade glided through the empty air, carrying a powerful shockwave. The true qi pouring from her body's acupoints and Eight Extraordinary Meridians transformed into a free-flowing force.
The power of the Eight Illusion Divine Art, which crossed the void to envelop the blade, was clearly beyond the laws of common sense. This was the effect of the Brightfolk Divine Art: it halted the passage of time for the practitioner and granted the sublime state of Sword Kinesis. She had attained the realm of sword control inherent in the Eight Illusion Divine Art, freeing herself from the Ten Commandments of Go.
The principles of Go that Jeong Pan-ak had taught her as a pastime were no longer of any use to her.
—Do 'Sacrifice a Stone for Initiative' and 'Covet Not Victory' not contradict each other? You tell me to discard stones to take the initiative, yet also tell me not to greedily seek victory?
—Foolish girl. Why would they contradict? It means you should take the initiative with relaxed shoulders. It means that even if you discard a few stones, you must not grow impatient.
The young master she had once served had been wrong. To a supreme expert who had stepped into the realm of Sword Kinesis, principles like 'Sacrificing a Stone for Initiative' and 'Covet Not Victory' were useless.
Baek Seo-gun had lived arrogantly. She kept her shoulders tense and her chest held high. She tolerated no losses. She was a being who could afford to live that way.
She had lived that way until everything became meaningless.
The former maid of the Jeong Family Manor reached out her hand as the Sword Venerable of Henan. Her blade soared like a kite, transforming into a flash of lightning.
Orange sunlight shattered against the steel as the sword surged forward, piercing straight through every single gust of wind radiating from the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
The boy stood motionless, his sword held in a high stance. He tracked Baek Seo-gun's flying blade with his eyes alone. When its tip came within three paces, he brought his divine sword crashing down.
A thunderous boom resounded as a monstrous shockwave shook the earth. It was a heavy sword strike rarely seen in the world.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing did not stop. Pushing back the blade he had just struck, he took a step forward. That single step was unbelievably fast—this was the realm of a master, using the shockwave of a sword strike to power one's movement technique. A fierce gale swept over.
The boy's next step stomped down four Zhang away.
Thud!
The ground cracked and collapsed with a terrifying sound.
Crash!
The moment Jeong Yeon-shin took that step, he surged forward once more, using the outward shockwave of his stomp as propulsion. It was as if his entire body had turned into a Thunderbolt Bomb.
He paid no heed to the flying sword that was rapidly being recalled behind him. This was the posture of Sacrificing a Stone for Initiative—sparing no effort to create an opening. Without even looking, he thrust his sword backward.
Clang!
The flying sword was deflected. A powerful impact traveled down to his thighs, putting an immense strain on his lower body. He hadn't completely shaken off the Sword Kinesis either; Baek Seo-gun's blade spun with a low hum, slicing past his flank and overtaking him. A burning pain spread across his side, as if from a clean laceration. It was incredibly hot.
He didn't care. He was now ten steps away. Baek Seo-gun, having caught her flying sword, widened her eyes slightly. It was a natural reaction; he had stepped into the sword sphere of a supreme expert while unable to even steady his own body.
Thanks to the efficacy of her Sword Kinesis, she assumed her starting stance with incredible speed—a middle stance aiming directly at her opponent's heart. The sword moved on its own to match her desired posture.
I've got her.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought as he sprinted forward. A sense of qi arose in his Upper Dantian at the crown of his head, and the sword domain of the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost flowed into his mind. He calculated her next move based on her stance with her left foot forward, the patterns of her internal power, her shallow breathing, and the movement of the muscles visible beneath the sleeve of her upper arm.
An incredibly precise and rapid sword strike was on the verge of manifesting.
The boy activated the mnemonic of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art. In his heart, he whispered the core formula.
Mother.
His muscles reacted. His right arm tightened ever so slightly in an imperceptible contraction. It traveled down from the lateral head of his shoulder, along the upper arm muscles of his forearm. From the outside, it was invisible. It was merely the true qi in the Large Intestine Meridian of Hand Yangming, which wrapped around the side of his right arm, snapping upward with immense elasticity.
Rumble!
The second move of his nameless sword art.
The ground before his downward-held sword exploded as a violent vibration erupted. He drew directly upon the shockwaves accumulated from all their previous clashes. This was the profound meaning of consecutive forms; even the force stored in the Yinmen Point behind his thigh swirled translucently, transferring into his sword.
In an instant, a wild gale arose, scattering dust in all directions. The howling wind split into dozens of streams, yet the trajectory drawn by his sword was singular. He advanced, seemingly ignoring the blade Baek Seo-gun was thrusting forward.
As he passed her, the boy in black robes swept his Northern Light sword horizontally. A long silver light flickered.
Clang—!
He deflected her attack cleanly. The sensation in his grip was heavy. Baek Seo-gun's sword was knocked straight upward, the sunlight reflecting off its blade dancing wildly in the air.
Silence fell.
"..."
A somewhat dazed gaze swept over the boy's back. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing, having lowered his sword, was slowly turning around. The sound of his footsteps carried a strange, overbearing pressure. The aura radiating from the surrounding Deep Martial Alliance army ground to a halt as they collectively held their breath, witnessing the divine majesty of a supreme expert.
"...You channeled the force of your entire body into a single sword. With overwhelming ferocity."
Muttering blankly, Baek Seo-gun reached her hand into the air. The sword, drifting down, was drawn back into her grasp. It was a peerless technique of sword control, yet she felt no particular inspiration from it. It wasn't because she was used to it; it was because only the boy's sword path remained vivid in her mind. It was a sword move with a temperament completely different from her own gentlemanly wave of a hand.
If they exchanged more blows, Baek Seo-gun would win. She had achieved the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak and the Five Qi Converging to the Origin; she could simply overwhelm him with her vast reserves of internal energy. Except for the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress, few even among the Black Ranks could rival her. However, the bet had been to seize the upper hand in a single exchange.
The Yeongcheon Sword Ghost had lost to the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. The lesson she had learned as a maid in the Jeong Family Manor had broken the posture of the Sword Venerable. The boy's single strike, delivered with utter disregard for his own body, was truly terrifying.
"The Ten Commandments of Go, Sacrificing a Stone for Initiative." She slowly parted her lips. "My past... was neither meaningless nor faded."
She murmured, as if lost in thought. Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer.
Soon, Baek Seo-gun smiled faintly.
"A master's sword generally reflects the life they have lived... Child, you wear Pan-ak's face, yet you are nothing like him. Who are you?"
"The Commander of the Demonlight Wing wishes to confirm the promise of the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost. You agreed to return to the headquarters of the Deep Martial Alliance, did you not?" the boy asked in return.
Baek Seo-gun's smile deepened. "Yes. I shall. My life has been a leisurely one anyway. Since I received something from the Jeong Family Manor, I will repay that debt over a long period of time. It is thanks to you that I've been awakened."
"A long period of time," Jeong Yeon-shin repeated quietly.
Baek Seo-gun gazed at the boy before her. What was he thinking? Ever since she had mentioned time, he had fallen silent. There was more than one strange thing about him.
Just then, the army of martial artists parted to make way. The Lazy Flame Dragon sauntered over and spat out a question.
"Do you need a hand?"
"No need."
"Let's go."
"Alright."
On the high hill of the gorge, the setting sun wrapped around the peaks like a translucent veil. The glow of the sunset flowed down on the wind, following the retreating figure in pitch-black robes. The two of them were descending the gorge.
Baek Seo-gun quietly watched the back of the boy who looked so much like a younger Jeong Pan-ak. A sense of wistfulness that made her keenly aware of the passage of time welled up simultaneously with a strange, new emotion.
"Your sword reaps connections," she murmured.
No matter how she looked at him, he had grown well. She felt she should thoroughly investigate the destruction of the Jeong Family Manor. It seemed Jeong Dae-myung had raised him well, just as she had hoped, but the words of the child with the hero's headband still weighed on her mind.
To the Sword Venerable of Henan, the distance between Shaanxi and Henan was as short as a stone's throw. She thought of the Hao Sect Leader. In terms of being well-informed about the Jianghu, he was on par with the Beggar Sect Leader. If this was the new Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress, he would already be registered as a key figure. One way or another, she would find out how Jeong Yeon-shin had grown up.
With a soft rustle, the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, Baek Seo-gun, turned around, the brilliantly embroidered patterns on her crimson martial uniform shifting with the movement.
Finally, the sun set.
The boy descending the Seven Crowds Gorge, and the woman on the hill gauging her path. The shadows stretching from both grew long. They were the shadows of a noble young master and a maidservant.
Even then, Jeong Yeon-shin did not consider his sword art to be complete. It was an invention derived from the Sword Saint, and it had to be concluded with the Sword Saint.
So far, it is only two moves.
He walked in profound silence alongside the Lazy Flame Dragon. As they traversed the winding mountain paths, Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind was entirely consumed by the intricacies of his martial path. He was meticulously reviewing his newly formed sword art, playing the forms and variations over and over in his mind's eye. The quiet rhythm of their footsteps served as a metronome for his deep contemplation.
Their quiet descent was interrupted when they reached a jutting precipice on one side of the peak. There, standing with wide, fiercely alert eyes, was Heonwon Chang. He had not descended with the others. Instead, he had remained behind, keeping a vigilant watch over the treacherous paths below.
When questioned, Heonwon Chang admitted with a gruff sincerity that he had fully intended to intervene if things had gone awry during the confrontation. Hearing this, the young boy simply shook his head. A faint, appreciative smile touched Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips, silently acknowledging the man's loyalty and concern without the need for unnecessary words.
Before long, the rest of their scattered group began to converge. The Small Sword Empress arrived first, her presence as sharp and composed as ever, followed shortly by Gongson Min. Yet, as they gathered their numbers, one absence became glaringly obvious. Moyong Myeong-jun was truly gone. They kept a watchful eye out for him as they continued their journey down the mountain, but they did not encounter a single trace of the man, not even by the time the towering main gates of the Martial World Alliance Headquarters finally loomed into view.
"Hmm? This is strange," muttered the Lazy Flame Dragon. He had taken the lead, using his imposing frame to part the bustling sea of martial artists that crowded the streets leading to the gates.
It was a sentiment that Jeong Yeon-shin was already intimately sensing. The very air around the sprawling complex seemed to vibrate with a restless, chaotic energy. Suddenly, a massive, thunderous roar echoed from deep within the vast confines of the headquarters. It was a deafening clamor, the overlapping voices of what had to be at least several hundred people shouting in unison. This was no ordinary occurrence; the sheer scale of the noise suggested something monumental was taking place inside.
"Excuse me, is something happening inside?" Heonwon Chang asked, his voice cutting through the ambient noise as he reached out and firmly grabbed the arm of a passing martial artist.
The passerby, a man dressed in impeccably clean green martial robes, immediately frowned. Annoyance flashed across his face as he turned to scan Heonwon Chang's profile, clearly ready to reprimand the stranger for his audacity. However, the moment the green-robed man's eyes landed on the distinct character for 'Hwang' embroidered upon Heonwon Chang's shoulder, all the color drained from his face. He gasped in sudden shock, his previous irritation instantly replaced by a trembling reverence. When he tried to speak, he could only manage a nervous stammer.
"I-It is because of the Sect Founding Ceremony!" the man blurted out, bowing his head slightly as if to avoid direct eye contact.
Heonwon Chang tilted his head, a pleased, almost relaxed expression settling over his features. "Is it like the eve of the festival? A pre-celebration of sorts?"
The green-robed man shook his head frantically, his eyes widening in disbelief at the question. "It is not the eve! The inauguration ceremony already took place three days ago! Today is already the third day of the Sect Founding Ceremony...!"
The words hung heavily in the air. Heonwon Chang's face, which had just been wearing a perfectly pleased and confident expression, instantly stiffened into a mask of rigid shock.