Chapter 180: Swordsman (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 180: Swordsman (3)
His spirit was terrifyingly grand.
He had declared a duel against the Martial World Alliance, meaning he intended to take them all on alone.
Jeong Yeon-shin deliberately smiled. He was following Heonwon Chang’s advice.
Heonwon Chang had told him that even the faintest smile would be an inescapable provocation.
While Jeong Yeon-shin didn't fully grasp the reasoning, the Hero of the Desolate Fortress’s worldly wisdom had proven its worth time and again.
He was here to upend the very structure of this massive event. It was hard to expect his intentions to be realized easily.
Heonwon Chang had advised him to press them relentlessly with words.
“……”
A terrifying silence fell.
The flag fluttered, deflecting the harsh sunlight as the boy looked down upon the warriors of the Alliance.
It was as if the Desolate Fortress was asserting its dominance at the very moment of the Sect Founding Ceremony. And he had done this right after returning from a great chivalrous deed as the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
“Is that young noble truly the Commander of the Demonlight Wing?”
“He drove away the Deep Martial Alliance…?”
Some people spoke in hushed, cautious tones. They seemed to be relatively disconnected from the martial world.
Their sunken temples and attire of simple hemp clothes, rather than martial robes, gave them away.
If what the young man in the Hero's Headband—the one who had thrown the flag—said was true…
If the martial army of the Deep Martial Alliance had truly retreated…
For the common folk living in Hanzhong, this was an extraordinary blessing.
They had been suffering from problems that directly threatened their livelihoods, as many merchant caravans had ceased operations, having lost faith in the ability of even the escort agencies to protect them.
“It’s true that many have been able to enter the fortress city safely lately.”
“An expert from the Desolate Fortress has bestowed such a grace upon us…!”
“Go confirm it! Right now!”
Thick dust rose from one corner as people began to move busily in all directions.
Everyone from commoners and monks desperate for outside news, to minor merchants affected by Hanzhong's disrupted logistics, and even representatives from great merchant guilds and escort agencies was stirred into action.
A mix of expressions spread across the faces in the crowd.
Confusion mingled with admiration.
Some even turned and fled without a second glance. Such was the terrifying influence of the Thirteen Heavens of the Heterodox and Demonic Sects.
It was a colossal organization that most Jianghu sects dared not even resist.
Flash Art Jeong Yeon-shin had earned the moniker "Hidden King Amidst Flowers" for his exploits against the Thirteen Heavens in Sichuan Province.
Defeating the martial unit of a major sect was a monumental event, no matter where it happened.
“……”
The Alliance warriors remained silent. Whether sitting or standing, they could only stare blankly at the faint, mocking smile on the young Commander’s face.
It was then.
From a corner of the spectator stands, the young man wearing the Hero's Headband spoke in a clear, resonant voice.
“A commander of the Desolate Fortress does not speak falsehoods. Nor is their righteousness for sale. They walk a proud martial path before the esteemed Lord of the Desolate Fortress, silently enacting justice. The deeds of the Demonlight Wing discussed today are the absolute truth. The same is true of his promise to commemorate this Sect Founding Ceremony by himself. Not a single word of it will ring hollow.”
With the demeanor of a great hero, he lauded his commander.
It was a declaration of war. A warrior of the Desolate Fortress had issued a challenge.
Though a rival sect's flag had been planted in the heart of the Orthodox alliance, the scene was not vulgar—it was exhilarating. It was an incredibly brilliant provocation.
Some in the crowd gasped in admiration.
“His eloquence flows like water. Is his tongue not a sword?”
“Any man from Xuzhou would recognize that youth. He is the Hero of the Desolate Fortress, Heonwon Chang. A chivalrous man who protected the people from the Blood Ghosts. I never expected to see him here… To think he was a subordinate of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.”
This was a stage where a newly founded sect invited the masses to declare its intent through martial prowess.
The event would only hold meaning if they fully faced the swords of Jianghu figures, who were bound by both gratitude and grudges. That was why it was called the Sect Founding Ceremony—a grand battle of founding.
The justification Heonwon Chang presented was overwhelming.
It perfectly suited the significance of a Sect Founding Ceremony. This could not be dismissed as a mere intrusion.
“Truly bold. No, magnificent.”
“A duel between the Martial World Alliance and the Desolate Fortress…”
The crowd's gaze split in three main directions: the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing, the spectator stands of the Alliance leadership, and Jegal Cheon, who had yet to step down from the duel stage.
A silent urgency filled their gazes, an unspoken demand: How can you not accept?
It was a pressure that could be felt in the very air, even if no one dared to speak it aloud.
“……”
The acting Chief Strategist, Feng Shui Adept Jegal Cheon, pursed his lips tightly. If he spoke hastily, he might betray his embarrassment.
That couldn't be allowed. Before him stood the Commander of the Demonlight Wing—an invited guest who had arrived like an uninvited storm.
As the face of the Martial World Alliance, he couldn't afford to show weakness.
A dilemma indeed.
This was a grave matter. He could not accept it rashly. Yet, rejecting the Commander's proposal would also severely damage the Alliance's prestige.
Jegal Hyeon glanced at the canopy where the leadership sat. He needed the Clan Leader's response. This was not a matter for the acting Chief Strategist to decide.
At that moment, the Radiant Zen Sword Seop Un-cheol, who had remained silent, spoke up. He was a mid-tier expert who, alongside the First Hero of Yeoju, had stepped forward to begin the fourth day of the Sect Founding Ceremony's duels.
Beneath his handsome eyebrows, a sharp gleam of internal energy flashed in his eyes as he glared at Flash Art Jeong Yeon-shin.
“It seems the primary virtue of the Desolate Fortress has changed. Has a glib tongue replaced martial arts and chivalry as your chief qualification?”
“Aren't you Orthodox factions the ones who enjoy debating swordsmanship with words?” the young commander clad in black robes replied.
He stood beside the pure white banner.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he bore the weight of hundreds of pairs of eyes. He had used the shockwave of his movement technique to blast away every speck of dust.
From his pitch-black leather boots to his long robes, not a single speck of dirt could be seen.
He had blown it all away with a wind of his own making. A true mark of a commander from the Desolate Fortress.
The young master didn't even spare a glance to his sides. Without looking at either the Radiant Zen Sword or the First Hero of Yeoju, he parted his lips.
“Stop your useless babbling and draw your sword.”
It was an attitude rarely encountered within the Orthodox factions. Some in the crowd gasped.
Only the hem of the pitch-black robe enveloping the boy fluttered serenely.
His unbelievably arrogant words and actions, contrasted with his elegant features, made him appear remarkably noble.
Swoosh—
A gentle breeze blew, invisibly brushing past the collar of the Desolate Fortress commander. The wind felt exceptionally pure and clear.
In a world with few forms of entertainment, people would often walk a hundred miles just to gaze upon a beautiful landscape.
In a place like this, an outstanding appearance shone all the brighter.
An exceptionally handsome hero could easily win favor, even if his behavior was somewhat arrogant. It was a truly rare and captivating sight.
Many began to whisper.
“Truly exhilarating…”
“Are all the high-ranking warriors of the Desolate Fortress like that? He looks like someone from the Peach Blossom Spring.”
“Now I understand what 'Filling a Carriage with Thrown Fruit' means… I would have thrown him an armful myself.”
"Filling a Carriage with Thrown Fruit" was an ancient anecdote passed down for hundreds of years.
It was a tale from the Three Kingdoms period, where people captivated by Ban-ak's beautiful appearance filled his carriage with fruit.
Young nobles like Gongson Min and the daughters of prestigious families openly showed their admiration, completely ignoring the Alliance’s reactions.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing had swayed the crowd's opinion with his achievements, his appearance, and his righteous justification.
To refuse now would be the ultimate disgrace.
This is bad…! Just how high is the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's martial arts level? They said more than half of the Deep Martial Alliance’s forces retreated safely, along with the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost. It's not that we lack experts who could win, but he is barely twenty… We cannot show a renowned warrior of our Alliance struggling against someone so young.
While the panicked Jegal Cheon hurriedly exchanged telepathic messages with the leadership's tent, all expression vanished from the face of the Radiant Zen Sword, Seop Un-cheol.
He was born into a prestigious family that had boasted martial fame in Hanzhong for generations.
Today's Sect Founding Ceremony was supposed to be the day of the Hanzhong Seop family, as promised by the Jegal Clan Leader. He had intended to flaunt his martial prowess to the entire world.
The head of Hanzhong's greatest local clan was his brother-in-law; his wife's older brother was the Jegal Clan Leader.
The matchups had been rigged. The turns of Eon Family's Number One Fist and the Hwasan Sword Excellence had been pushed back to the following days.
As an expert from a local prestigious family, Seop Un-cheol hungered for fame. Most Jianghu martial artists were people who lived on the honor earned through their martial arts.
The Sect Founding Ceremony was his golden opportunity. So many outsiders had gathered here.
He had been waiting for this very moment to bask in the admiration of his fellow martial artists and the common people.
This was no time to be disrupted by a mere brat.
On this stage, there was no backing down anyway. For the sake of his reputation, he had to fight even if it meant losing.
Those bastards from the Desolate Fortress had engineered this. They were incredibly meticulous. A cold light flashed in Seop Un-cheol's eyes.
“Let us begin then,” he said.
The pride of mid-tier experts often ignored differences in reputation. It was no different now.
The achievements accumulated over long years did not stop at mere martial arts; they became life itself. It was an expert's pride, the footprint of their existence.
It was the same even if the opponent was a Black Rank supreme expert of the Desolate Fortress.
No middle-aged martial artist would let their entire life's work be dismissed without testing their opponent firsthand.
“Come,” the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing said.
Seop Un-cheol did not reply. Just as he silently raised his left hand to grip his sword hilt—
“Wait a moment!”
The middle-aged man standing opposite Seop Un-cheol stamped his foot. The duel stage shook briefly with a heavy vibration.
It was a weighty stomp. It was the First Hero of Yeoju, So Jun. He was originally Seop Un-cheol's opponent for the duel.
“To alter the format of the Sect Founding Ceremony so hastily? I, So Jun, cannot agree!”
“Hero So, please step back for a moment. I, Seop Un-cheol, shall uphold the honor of the Alliance.”
“This isn't a matter to be decided so rashly! It's a grave issue!”
Shouting as if in reprimand, So Jun turned to Jeong Yeon-shin.
“Our Alliance's Sect Founding Ceremony still has four days left. As far as I know, there are easily over forty people who will display their profound martial arts over these four days. They are supreme experts whose monikers are well-known throughout the land. Every one of them is a match for a hundred men. All of them possess outstanding skills.”
“……”
“Even if we conservatively estimate twenty exchanges per duel, that is six hundred exchanges. Six hundred breaths’ worth of high-level combat. You had better think carefully, Commander. No matter how profound your internal energy, no one could endure such a gauntlet without collapsing. Even if you retract your challenge, no one would dare blame you.”
The First Hero of Yeoju, So Jun, spoke calmly. Yet, contrary to his tone, his thin lips trembled slightly.
The unexpected appearance of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing was bound to steal everyone's attention.
That could not be allowed. It was only right to bring him back to reality and make him step down from the stage.
He might win a few times, but he will eventually fall...
But if it started now, they would only be swept away by the Commander's pace.
The gazes of numerous warriors and heroes, including the hesitating Jegal Cheon and So Jun, converged on Jeong Yeon-shin.
“I,” the boy began, caressing his sword hilt, “am a wing of the seventeen walls of the Desolate Fortress. I am the fortress wall that all who oppose us must scale.”
“……”
“As an envoy of the Desolate Fortress, I show courtesy to your Alliance. Tomorrow, the day after, and until the Sect Founding Ceremony ends, I shall exchange blows beneath this flag. You may use me as your touchstone. Consider it an opportunity to broaden your horizons through the martial arts of the Demonlight Wing—to see how sharp and how solid they are. For I am the very gift I bestow upon your Alliance for its founding.”
He then let go of the flag and his sword hilt, slowly clasping his hands behind his back. His pitch-black hair fluttered along with his black robe.
It was incredibly arrogant. It was a speech that practically demanded the start of battle.
Thud!
Unable to listen any longer, Seop Un-cheol stamped his foot. No martial artist could endure such a provocation.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing had explicitly challenged the entire Martial World Alliance. He had forced his way through the formalities and pried open a gap in the Sect Founding Ceremony.
Now, he had to be considered a full participant.
“Is your sword as sharp as that three-inch tongue of yours?!”
He charged forward the instant he drew his sword. It was a left-handed grip. Even before the sword strike was fully unleashed, a sharp shockwave of energy erupted.
The dust kicked up by Seop Un-cheol's feet was torn to shreds.
Finally, it had begun.
The crowd held its breath. The dynamic of the Sect Founding Ceremony had shifted in an instant. It was now a clash between the Martial World Alliance and the Desolate Fortress.
How far could such a young Commander of the Demonlight Wing endure? The Radiant Zen Sword was the greatest sword talent in Hanzhong.
Even if he managed to win with difficulty, what would he do about the challengers to come after, and the day after that?
A left-handed sword.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned his body. He faced Seop Un-cheol, who was charging forward with a light-speed dash, thrusting his sword.
Radiant Zen Sword. His moniker, Hui, meant radiant. As if to prove the praise of his swordsmanship, his thrusting posture was perfectly straight.
It was the Unity of Body and Sword. The wind churning from the sword tip swept across the entire area. The sheer momentum felt as if it would slice his skin.
Vast as the world was, one rarely faced a left-handed swordsman. Left-handed swordsmen usually preyed on that unfamiliarity.
They often trained in dazzling, deceptive variations. Seop Un-cheol appeared to be exactly that kind of swordsman.
Even as the tip of his sword trembled incessantly, he managed to channel immense power into it.
I can tell from his starting stance. The Hanzhong Seop family. He is worthy of being included in the Compendium of Crushing the Righteous.
Staring at him intently, the boy gripped the scabbard below his waist with his left hand.
With his right hand, he wrapped his fingers around the sword hilt. Riding the true qi rising from his heart, the force of his release gathered in his palm.
The Law-Transcending Halo Qi swirled gently in his palm, feeling warm to the touch.
“Hup!”
Seop Un-cheol inhaled. Five paces away, he lowered his upper body. His sword tip aimed for Jeong Yeon-shin's flank.
True qi exploded from the Yongquan point on the sole of his rear foot as it stamped the ground.
The duel stage vibrated violently as stone fragments erupted in all directions.
Boom! Whoosh!
Amidst the roaring sound, the boy also drew his sword.
The Divine Sword: Northern Light flashed from its scabbard. Sunlight seemed to chase the blade, wrapping around the steel.
Rays of light flowed from the metal. It was only for a fleeting moment. The Northern Light sword held by Jeong Yeon-shin soon vanished into thin air.
Hummm!
A faint stream of light rippled. Before the boy's outstretched hand, a radiance like feathery clouds was etched into the air.
It precisely caught and deflected Seop Un-cheol's charging sword, shattering the shockwave emanating from the blade.
It was a terrifying display of technique. Even after that, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing’s sword force surged forward like a wild gale.
“……!”
The moment Seop Un-cheol, his eyes wide with shock, hurriedly leaned his body backward, the sleek hair hanging at his sides was sliced clean off.
A terrifyingly cold wind swept past his nape and shot into the sky.
Rumble!
A thunderous noise erupted in the air. It was the aftermath of the sword strike's released force.
It was a single strike that filled the surrounding silence with a shocking impact.
Before anyone realized, the boy stood pointing the Northern Light sword forward.
While his left hand remained clasped behind his back, the tip of the pure white Divine Sword rested against the space between Seop Un-cheol's eyebrows.
It was the stance of a master instructing a novice.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the First Hero of Yeoju, So Jun, who stood to the side, and calmly parted his lips.
“You said forty people, right?”
He did not lower his voice. Where his sleeve had ridden up, veins bulged on the boy's forearm.
Jeong Yeon-shin lowered the sword he was pointing and gave it a brief flick.
A faint white light rippled along the blade. It was the residual shockwave of the sword strike.
The boy moved the Northern Light sword.
The blade drew a brilliant arc as it returned.
And just like that, the blade scattered silver light as it slid back into its scabbard. The soft click echoed with exceptional clarity.
Click.
“Forty exchanges should be enough,” the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing muttered.