Chapter 183: Swordsman (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 183: Swordsman (6)
Heonwon Chang’s words were quite humorous—a brand of wit rarely seen in Hanzhong.
Laughter rippled through the spectator seats surrounding the martial stage, though it was carefully subdued. Their opponent was a solemn swordsman of the Moyong Clan; they couldn’t afford to mock him openly. In a place where few dared to ignore the mood of the Martial World Alliance, only the Divine Hero of the Desolate Fortress could pull off such a stunt.
“…As a word of advice, you had better keep a tighter leash on your subordinate,” the Commander of the Heavenly Spirit Sword Unit said, his neck still at the mercy of the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing’s sword.
“He is a reckless fool, a scoundrel who oversteps his bounds without a second thought. Commander of the Demonlight Wing, there will come a day when he drags you down. He constantly incurs the grudges of the great sects, so his end is easily foreseen. He is doomed to never live a peaceful life in the Jianghu.”
He spat the words out.
The Hero of the Desolate Fortress, Heonwon Chang, had become a person of interest among the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's entourage, second only to Jeong Yeon-shin himself. This had been the case ever since he played a major role in persuading the Commander to participate in the Sect Founding Ceremony. Backed by the might of the Desolate Fortress envoys, he knew exactly how to sway public opinion. He was a man who could perform a sword dance with the slightest justification—a particularly lethal figure to the righteous sects of the Jianghu.
The Commander of the Heavenly Spirit Sword Unit narrowed his eyes. “A warrior who commands a martial unit ought to take responsibility for his subordinates’ conduct. Your own quagmire might not be far off. None of the noble warriors of the Orthodox great sects would ever favor a fellow like that.”
He spoke with feigned concern. The boy, still pointing his sword, tilted his head slightly.
“Didn’t you just lose in a single exchange? You talk too much.”
“…”
“How unsightly. Get down.”
Jeong Yeon-shin applied pressure to the hilt of the Divine Sword: Northern Light, twisting the blade. Gently nudging the commander’s neck with the flat of the blade, he swept the sword downward in a flawless arc and sheathed it in one picturesque motion.
Stepping back, the middle-aged swordsman bit his lip. It was a humiliating moment for any warrior.
The Bedside Leg Technique must have been made for people like him, the boy thought, marveling once again at the utility of the feint technique bestowed upon him by the Lord of the Desolate Fortress.
Having immersed himself in studying and practicing it alongside his new sword art, he could now claim a thirty percent success rate even against experts of his own caliber. Unless the opponent was a top-tier master specializing in eye techniques, falling for it meant instant death. This more than made up for the drawback of it rarely working twice on the same person.
A dense feint steals the opponent’s rhythm.
The arsenal of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Jeong Yeon-shin, grew more numerous by the day. Just as the veteran masters of the Jianghu possessed all kinds of bizarre and extraordinary techniques, the boy was also stepping into the realm of eccentric geniuses. It was a process that could only be described as him maturing into a true Black Rank of the Desolate Fortress.
Step.
The Commander of the Heavenly Spirit Sword Unit turned around abruptly, the hem of his light pink trousers whipping harshly through the air. In that moment, the distinct attire of the Moyong Clan faded into insignificance before the black robe of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
“…The warrior of the Flash Art is victorious.”
The announcement came from the edge of the martial stage. It was Jegal Cheon, acting as the duel’s referee.
Only then did cheers erupt from various parts of the spectator seats. Regardless of their hesitation to embarrass the warriors of the Alliance, few felt the need to watch their step when cheering for an expert from the Desolate Fortress. Whenever the boy’s gaze swept past, cheers would burst forth from men and women, young and old alike.
“Look over here, look here! How can a person look like that? He looks like one of the Brightfolk!”
“The Commander of the Heavenly Spirit Sword Unit is one of the finest swordsmen in the Moyong Clan…”
“This is truly an eye-opening experience! So-chil, spend the next two days packing the merchant group’s luggage, but keep your eyes glued to the main gate. We’re following them back to Xiangyang. The journey will be incredibly safe.”
“We must align ourselves with the new Commander of the Demonlight Wing. We can’t afford to be any later, can we?”
Jeong Yeon-shin walked away, leaving the clamor of voices behind him. He adjusted the disheveled black collar of his robe as he moved.
It was the second day of their challenge. The Commander of the Heavenly Spirit Sword Unit was his final opponent of the day. And on this second day, the boy had once again sent every opponent packing. It was a clean sweep.
In two more days, the mission would draw to a close, regardless of the outcome.
“How is the wound from the Sword Ghost?” Lazy Flame Dragon asked as he caught up, appearing beside Jeong Yeon-shin with his elusive footwork.
They were on a path behind the martial stage, a place where the crowds could not trespass. It was a narrow walkway used by the participants of the Sect Founding Ceremony to return to the Alliance pavilions. The warriors standing guard on either side pretended not to notice the two of them, though a few nodded respectfully to the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
“It’s improving,” the boy murmured softly, glancing at Heonwon Chang, who landed beside him as if he had flown.
“The Hero of the Desolate Fortress is earning his keep. He’s worth ten Taeyeomryongs,” Jeong Yeon-shin said quietly.
An immediate reply came. “Do not worry, Commander,” Heonwon Chang said with a grin. “The Demonlight Wing is like the double-headed bird of shared destiny. Every warrior is a bird that flaps its wings in unison with you. Since all my chatter is solely for the benefit of our unit and your prestige, there is no reason for me to feel discouraged.”
“If there were ten of you, we’d have to form an entirely new martial unit,” Lazy Flame Dragon, who had recently become little more than a freeloader in the Demonlight Wing, retorted slyly.
Sharing casual banter, the group arrived at the Rhyme-Fragrance Court. It was the residence provided by the Martial World Alliance, and it was being used in a manner quite contrary to the intentions of the Alliance leadership, who had hoped it would become a hotbed of trouble. Instead of hostility, more and more people were sending messages of goodwill.
The Desolate Fortress experts had planted their coarse yellow flag upon the martial stage in a blatant provocation. Refusal was not an option; the format of the Sect Founding Ceremony had been forced to change. To save face, the people of the Jianghu had to break through the martial barrier erected by the young commander and snap the flagpole.
For two days, twenty-three Alliance experts had been defeated in succession.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing displayed a truly formidable presence. Even with the ten-exchange limit on the duels, there was never an ambiguous outcome. As the martial prowess of the Desolate Fortress’s unit commander became known to all, it was only natural that visitors began to flock to them: merchants wishing to do business in Huguang, escort agencies seeking assistance with their journeys, and even some Alliance warriors whose intentions—whether friendly or for spying—were hard to discern.
Thud! Thud!
It was not at all surprising to hear a knock on the door now, despite only fifteen minutes having passed since their arrival. Sitting on the wooden veranda overlooking the courtyard, Jeong Yeon-shin heard a familiar voice.
“Yeon-shin!”
It was a boy’s voice. A visitor who had nothing to do with the duels had arrived. There was only one person in the Alliance who would call Jeong Yeon-shin so casually.
“Come in,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly.
Before the servants could even approach, the main gate swung open on its own. The person peeking her head inside, however, was not Yu-hyeon of the Mount Hua Sect. A woman with a somewhat vacant expression walked in with a playful smile. It was the Small Sword Empress, Chwi So-ok.
A dark-colored precious sword dangled from the waist of her orange silk light armor. In one hand, she held a jade-colored gourd.
“I tried manipulating my vocal cords with true qi. Seems I got it pretty close…” she said, this time in her own voice, as she sheepishly brushed the hair behind her ear with her other hand.
Geniuses born with an innate sense for controlling internal energy often manipulated parts of their bodies at will, much like the art of face-changing. The core principle of the Wind God movement technique Jeong Yeon-shin had created also originated from this: full-body Fa Jin. The only major difference was that it involved managing the changes in acupoints and muscles throughout the entire body.
The boy stared at the Small Sword Empress from his seated position. “What is it?”
“I wanted to have a drink to repay my debt of gratitude. This is grain wine,” she said, lightly shaking the jade gourd to show him.
She had previously been captured alongside Lazy Flame Dragon by the Deep Martial Alliance forces of the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, who had occupied the Seven Crowds Gorge. She had always shown a deep interest in the Flash Art martial arts, but ever since being rescued by Jeong Yeon-shin, she had been acting as friendly as Yu-hyeon.
The same went for Gongson Min, who appeared from behind her.
“Greetings to the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. I trust the young heroes of the Desolate Fortress are doing well today?” His broad grin showed a distinct lack of formality. He was said to have finally claimed Moyong Myeong-jun's sword—the very one Jeong Yeon-shin had used to execute the Myriad Blossoms Rain. He had proudly mentioned that he was keeping it in the Gongson Clan successor’s guest room within the Alliance.
“I’ve seen it all now. The future Sect Leader of Diancang is imitating the chief disciple of the Mount Hua Sect?” Lazy Flame Dragon muttered in disbelief. He was sprawled across a table in front of the courtyard pond.
The oldest member of their group, the so-called nameless disciple of the Demonlight Wing, continued speaking as he chewed on a poppy. “No alcohol. Our Commander isn’t fully grown yet.”
He made a careless excuse.
Such clumsy consideration.
Jeong Yeon-shin knew why his incompetent, older subordinate was acting this way. It was because of the wound from the Sword Kinesis of the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, Baek Seo-gun. It was a wound carved by the Sword Venerable of Henan, and the internal energy infused within the sword strike’s shockwave was incredibly deep. The moment he consumed alcohol, its toxic effects would aggravate the injury.
He had an upcoming duel with the Hwasan Sword Excellence. The warriors of the Demonlight Wing were focusing all their efforts on bringing their Commander's condition back to its peak. Even Namgung Hwa-shin had temporarily left to procure highly effective healing medicine through his personal connections. The leader of the Mount Hua Sect's Plum Blossom Swordsmen was an opponent difficult to match even with a perfectly healthy body; he was said to be a swordsman who could easily claim to be the strongest below the elder generation.
The Small Sword Empress, however, knew nothing of this, as she had not witnessed the duel between Jeong Yeon-shin and Baek Seo-gun. It was obvious from the way she forced her naturally drooping eyes wide, her expression one of having heard something utterly bizarre.
“I heard you drank with the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost last time…”
“This young master said no,” Lazy Flame Dragon said, staring at her with clear eyes.
The Small Sword Empress’s expression turned blank.
“Who is that young lady?” Heonwon Chang, standing guard beside Jeong Yeon-shin, asked abruptly with his arms crossed. Chin tilted up as if pleased by Lazy Flame Dragon’s handling of the situation, he cut a fitting figure.
Gongson Min smiled faintly and introduced the girl who had accompanied them. “She is Seon-ryong’s younger sister.”
“I am Jegal Cheong-a of the Jegal Clan.” Jegal Cheong-a clasped her hands in a polite, small salute, staring intently at the new Commander of the Demonlight Wing. The eyes of the Jegal Clan’s precious daughter were highly peculiar. Her gaze alone gave it away; a leaf-like gleam flickered in her pitch-black pupils, betraying her extraordinary mastery of eye techniques.
She has trained a rare ultimate technique to a profound level.
A faint trace of interest flickered across Jeong Yeon-shin’s face.
“Set the table. I’ll join you.”
“Commander?”
“I said I won’t drink.”
Roughly brushing Lazy Flame Dragon aside, the boy sat at the courtyard table. Gongson Min’s face brightened, while the Small Sword Empress shook her wine bottle with a look of lingering regret.
“I was curious to see the sword path you would draw while drunk.”
A dozen servants of the Rhyme-Fragrance Court bustled endlessly between the kitchen and the courtyard. They seemed to have received some sort of instruction from the Alliance leadership. As if to prove that the earlier rescheduling of the Sect Founding Ceremony had nothing to do with any animosity towards the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, they spared no effort in hosting the Desolate Fortress entourage. They were thorough, as if determined to leave no room for complaints.
“They serve better food here than at our pavilion… Are they mistreating us because we’re from the Nine Sects?” the Small Sword Empress muttered, sitting beside Jeong Yeon-shin.
Above the table, laden with drinks and delicacies in an instant, the wispy clouds overhead parted. The weather was splendid. Seated at the head of the table, the boy looked at Jegal Cheong-a opposite him. She appeared to be around his age.
“You. State your business.”
“…”
She was a girl suited to such an expressionless face. Her black hair, tied in a single ponytail, draped down past her sky-blue collar. The luster of her ebony hair spoke of her noble status. Even when meeting the gaze of the much-talked-about Commander of the Demonlight Wing, her expression did not change. Her face was as indifferent as white snow, and her posture was spotlessly refined.
Jegal Cheong-a slowly parted her lips. “I have heard that the Commander’s martial arts are profound, so I have come to request a sword discussion.”
“And not the kind where an expert merely humors a high-born novice,” Gongson Min chattered, his gaze fixed more on Jeong Yeon-shin than on Jegal Cheong-a, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. “Lady Jegal is incredibly knowledgeable in martial theory. I know this well because she is a friend of my fiancée, and I believe you will find her worth speaking to, Commander.”
“A sword discussion,” the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing repeated. “So that’s why.”
“What do you mean?” Jegal Cheong-a asked calmly, meeting the gaze of the Desolate Fortress Black Rank.
Jeong Yeon-shin replied immediately. “The Taiyang point.”
“…?”
“Tongziliao.”
He spoke in short succession, naming the acupoints on the face.
“Sibai, Cuanzhu, Yintang. You are using an eye technique. The fluctuation of your internal energy is novel. It could even be channeled into your palms. Though I cannot know the flow of internal energy through your minor meridians without opening the secret manuals of the Jegal Clan… if you modify its form slightly and channel it into a fan, does it become the Endless Wind-Whirling Fan Technique? It is highly unusual—your family’s ultimate technique.”
Compendium of Crushing the Righteous—the Jegal Clan.
The corners of the boy’s mouth curled up slightly.
“You are interesting. Very well, recite your insights to this Commander. I shall answer them.”
“…”
Suddenly, the transparent autumn air brushed against the skin of the young warriors. Sunlight shattered over the ripples of the pond swaying beside their feet. A breeze, soft as a brushstroke in a landscape painting, lifted a few maple leaves, and the presence of nature grew exceptionally vivid.
A silence conjured by the Commander of the Demonlight Wing fell over them.
It was a silent demand for her to turn off her eye technique before they spoke.