Chapter 191: Ties of Fate (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 191: Ties of Fate (6)
Rumor had it that the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing had not enjoyed a smooth upbringing. At least, that was the speculation offered by the Hao Sect Leader.
Suddenly, all sound vanished from the pavilion where their table of drinks and delicacies had been set.
Frost seemed to settle over Baek Seo-gun's straight-backed figure, radiating an aura that demanded absolute silence. A chilly autumn breeze swept past, fleetingly scattering the ends of her gray hair around the nape of her neck before fading away into nothing.
She had reached a realm where internal energy fully assimilated with mind and body. Without even realizing it, she had completely unleashed her oppressive presence as the Sword Venerable of Henan Province.
"What did you say?" Baek Seo-gun asked quietly. The smile on her lips had vanished without a trace.
She began to recall the time she had shared drinks with Jeong Pan-ak's son at the Seven Crowds Gorge. What exactly had she said to him back then?
"I said that for the son of a great landowner, his upbringing didn't seem to have been smooth. I didn't hear too many details, but..." The Hao Sect Leader quietly adjusted his collar and continued. "For a third-rate martial family to own vast lands and exercise authority, it is essential to appease the local populace alongside the County Magistrate. It's the same for ensuring a bountiful harvest. 'You've eaten and drunk well, so work harder'—you know how it goes, right? I heard the Manor Master of the Jeong Family Manor held banquets constantly. Ever since that Flower Playboy—whether his name was Jeong Dae-myung or Jeong Pan-ak—sat in the Manor Master's seat, he must have used those banquets to flaunt his power."
The young master Jeong Dae-myung was a man who, since childhood, held a superstition bordering on obsession. He believed that employing people without compensation would bring misfortune. Baek Seo-gun, too, had benefited from this during her time as a maid. It would have been no different for those outside the manor.
"And so?" Her lips parted slightly.
The Hao Sect Leader was not particularly intimidated. He, too, was the leader of a sect with a temperament unique under heaven. As he spoke calmly, the aura of a great hero emanated from him.
"Jeong Pan-ak's eldest and second sons swaggered around, acting as the sole local aristocrats of Xinye County, but only the third son was never seen there. They say that in his short life, he never attended a single banquet. He was only spotted occasionally, taking solitary walks through the village. Unlike the other direct descendants, he was completely dispirited. And even those walks stopped at some point, and he shut himself away entirely."
"……."
"Jeong Pan-ak searched so desperately for his granddaughter, who couldn't even take her first steps, yet he never uttered a single word about his third son. The testimonies of the people of Xinye County all align on this. When a few commoners attending the banquets asked Jeong Pan-ak about his third son's well-being, he would throw the guests out, claiming they were disrupting the atmosphere. After that, no one ever looked for Jeong Yeon-shin... Well, that's how the story goes."
"...Are you sure you haven't misunderstood? Though the Jeong Family Manor is a third-rate martial family, they are not without a pedigree. In Xinye County, they possessed power comparable to the County Magistrate, so how could mere commoners know the intimate affairs of the family?"
"Can I swear a bit?" Narrowing his eyes, the Hao Sect Leader spoke with the swagger of a back-alley thug.
The Hao Sect was a faction that took in and protected the lower classes of the Central Plains. Even though his companion was the Sword Venerable, the Sect Leader did not mince his words when treating her as a friend.
Baek Seo-gun, who had been looking down with her eyelashes lowered in deep thought, raised her head. "What?"
"I'm asking if being the Sword Venerable makes you all-knowing," the Hao Sect Leader said slowly. "Of course, it's natural not to know the exact details. You're not wrong. It is, after all, the private family history of a somewhat influential clan. However, when it comes to gathering and refining rumors scattered across the world, the Hao Sect's capability easily looks down upon the Beggar Sect—unless it concerns the territory of the Nine Sects. Are you doubting my sect's capabilities right now?"
"……."
Swoosh.
Baek Seo-gun's white sleeve brushed past the table as she rose. She stood up without a word. The Hao Sect Leader stared up at her.
"You haven't even had a single drink. Where are you going?"
"I must find out for myself. You mentioned before that there are other surviving direct descendants," she murmured quietly.
The Hao Sect Leader nodded readily. "Jeong Pan-ak's second son and granddaughter have entered the Zhongnan Sect. The chief steward of the Jeong Family Manor has established a massive merchant group in Kaifeng... I assume the other servants aren't of interest to you."
"I shall head to Mount Zhongnan. Since we are already in Shaanxi, it is close enough to see the young master as well."
At her words, the corner of the Hao Sect Leader's mouth twitched. "Did you just refer to the Commander of the Demonlight Wing as 'young master'? The great Sword Venerable of the world..."
Baek Seo-gun did not answer. The skin beneath her neat eyebrows trembled slightly.
It was a connection worthy of such a reaction. Across the vast span of years, he had made her realize Jeong Pan-ak's teachings. What the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Flash Art, had drawn against her Sword Kinesis was a sword that harvested connections.
The Yeongcheon Sword Ghost recognized Jeong Yeon-shin in terms of both bloodline and martial arts. The maid who had risen to lofty heights had finally accepted her forgotten past.
But what if the boy had never received the love he rightfully deserved in his own home?
'I... my words and actions...'
She recalled the words she had babbled to Jeong Pan-ak's son, feeling self-satisfied all on her own. Her mind, which had always been crystal clear with only the sword, grew muddled and crushed.
A sensation as if something were bluntly slicing through her brain washed over her. Baek Seo-gun thought, This is insane...
Suddenly, the Hao Sect Leader looked up. "More importantly, heading to Zhongnan? You're about to cause a massive incident. Do you not know how immense the presence of the Deep Martial Alliance's Sword Ghost is to the Nine Sects? Please, know your own standing. Unless you're trying to start a Great Sect War..."
"Snatching away a couple of insignificant underlings is as easy as flipping my hand. Do not make a fuss."
Her voice was low and raspy.
Baek Seo-gun set out that very day. Dismissing the subordinates who wished to escort her, she carried only a single sword at her waist.
Upon the quiet official road, her supreme lightness skill bloomed. The Sword Venerable's figure blurred and vanished.
* * *
When Eon Hwa-ryeon, the Eon Family's Number One Fist, spoke of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, she made no effort to lower her voice. Her words directed at the young Commander echoed clearly for all to hear.
She evaluated the boy's martial arts, offered advice as if genuinely concerned for the future of the Desolate Fortress's newly appointed Unit Commander, and, acting as a senior, invited him to step within the range of her hands. It was a speech designed to subtly belittle the Flash Art.
Perhaps this behavior had been ordered by the leadership of the Alliance, which had already reached a disastrous state. Forty-five elite experts had been defeated in succession by the young Unit Commander.
The Sect Founding Ceremony of the Martial World Alliance had practically met its ruin. It would be difficult to save face in any proper way. Their only option left was for at least one person to decisively defeat the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Unlike Flash Art, who had deployed the ultimate techniques of the Infinite Flower of Time Hand, the Eon Family's Number One Fist had merely received his moves. Only the single exchange of the fifth bout had been different.
Among the gathered heroes, those who had trained in eye techniques or possessed extraordinary discernment realized that the Commander of the Demonlight Wing had suffered a disadvantage. Various emotions flickered across their faces.
"A different way of seeing? The strange light in your eyes is quite amusing. Come, step forward."
The clear voice of the Duke of Eminent Fists, Eon Hwa-ryeon, seemed to draw a definitive line between disadvantage and advantage. However, the voice of the Hero of the Desolate Fortress rang out even louder.
"The experts of the Alliance are indeed something else. This Heonwon is deeply impressed."
The true qi infused in his voice spread incredibly naturally. It reverberated in all directions from the spectator seats, to the point where even Eon Hwa-ryeon glanced at Heonwon Chang for a brief moment.
Heonwon Chang continued with deliberate slyness. He acted as though he were merely speaking to the person next to him, who had previously claimed to admire Eon Hwa-ryeon.
"Is it not truly impressive to see someone in their forties acting so triumphant? Especially in front of a boy who has barely passed the age of fifteen. As expected of an alliance of the righteous, great orthodox sects—even with such a vast difference in age, they treat their opponent as an absolute equal. It is a truly transparent spirit. Though unconventional, it is a conduct well worth learning from, making the name of the Martial World Alliance fully deserved. Would you not agree?"
"I suppose so..."
The middle-aged man, answering in a daze, quickly shut his mouth. He seemed to have suddenly realized the implication of those words. Heonwon Chang smiled and patted him on the shoulder.
To Heonwon Chang, the man's previous cheering for Eon Hwa-ryeon had been an eyesore for an expert of the Desolate Fortress, but now he looked as if a blockage in his chest had finally cleared.
Seated on the opposite side, the Lazy Flame Dragon curled his lips in amusement.
The heroes, who had been clamoring in the heat of the moment, fell silent.
Heonwon Chang had succeeded, if only slightly, in shifting the perspective of those watching the stage. The consecutive victories had caused everyone to temporarily forget the young age of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Reflecting on it now, anyone would realize that an event rarely seen in the Jianghu was unfolding right before their eyes.
While the core experts of the Alliance had suffered consecutive defeats at the hands of a boy who had not even reached twenty, a prominent candidate for the next head of the Eon Family had provoked the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
In truth, this only elevated the prestige of both the boy and the Desolate Fortress. Even though there were at least a dozen more Black Rank experts present.
The intentions of the Desolate Fortress's Chief Steward's Office had hit the mark. The thousand heroes gathered here would spread the rumors across the entire world.
At this moment, the Hero of the Desolate Fortress had put a definitive period on the mission Jeong Yeon-shin had received, completely indifferent to the gaze of others.
Even if he lost here, he would win. And if he somehow won the duel as well, the ripples of that victory would not stop at the lands of Hanzhong. It would be something even the Jegal Clan Leader, sitting in the leadership tent, could not stop.
"My idle chatter has gone on too long. Unit Commander, go ahead and start," Heonwon Chang said, lightly adjusting the Hero's Headband on his forehead. He was feigning total nonchalance.
"You have a capable subordinate," Eon Hwa-ryeon said to Jeong Yeon-shin. As if she had read between the lines of Heonwon Chang's words, a faint trace of admiration laced her voice.
It was a stark contrast to the many Alliance elders sitting beneath the canopy, who were merely glaring at Heonwon Chang. She bound herself to what was necessary and remained free from trivial matters. It was the true face of a martial artist.
Narrowing her eyes, she parted her lips. "The remaining five bouts will be more than enough. I shall yield the first move to you."
Her face was just as it had been when she held a cup at the tavern. She swung her right arm, which extended from her orange sleeveless martial uniform, in a wide arc.
Though she seemed to be warming up casually, a single movement of her body generated a transparent wave of energy that distorted the air. She had clearly relaxed her acupoints completely. It was the prelude to unleashing her full power.
"Two moves," the boy said slowly. "You will be defeated within two forms."
"What?"
Eon Hwa-ryeon's brow furrowed. It did not sound like an empty boast to her.
This was a conversation between supreme experts who had directly exchanged blows. They read each other's minds through the rhythm of their breath, the beating of their hearts, the minute movements of their fingertips, and the subtle shifts in their facial muscles. In the high-level realm, a heightened sense of qi revealed many things.
You were far too relaxed. In front of this Unit Commander.
These were words Jeong Yeon-shin did not bother to speak aloud.
Step.
He took a step forward. He did not deploy any movement techniques. Instead, he continuously circulated his Law-Transcending Halo Qi through the fine meridians of his face.
Each time the energy passed through the Tongziliao Points (Pupil Crevice) on the outer corners of his eyes, a brilliant light reached his pupils. A faint white glow began to emanate from the boy's eyes.
It was not a proper eye technique. It fell far short of the completion required to be called a full martial art. It was said that the 'way of seeing' was a martial art far more complex and delicate than breathing techniques. Eye techniques worthy of being called ultimate arts were exceedingly rare.
They existed only within certain noble families or the Nine Sects, whose histories were older than the Ming Dynasty itself. The boy, too, had only obtained a small clue when he faced Jegal Cheong-a.
For now, he merely projected his aura through his eyes and allowed it to return to his eyeballs. He loaded the release and absorption formulas of the Myriad Blossoms Rain onto his Halo Qi. Jeong Yeon-shin's characteristically meticulous manipulation of true qi reached out with a texture thinner than smoke. It was an act of analyzing Eon Hwa-ryeon's internal energy structure.
'The pattern of her Body Protection Qi is constant.'
He only checked her solar plexus, abdomen, and shoulders. There was no need to scan her entire body. Eon Hwa-ryeon might notice, and finding the target points was more than enough.
Whoosh!
Eon Hwa-ryeon's figure filled his vision. The moment the boy took a single step, she closed a distance of three paces. She seemed to have grown impatient at Jeong Yeon-shin's words.
With the characteristic exaggeration of a Central Plains martial artist, she spread her arms wide as if to yield the first move, but waves of internal power were already churning in both of her hands. The moment a single blow connected, a counter-form utilizing joint locks was bound to fly. The very air grew grim.
Tap.
The boy's index and middle fingers touched her solar plexus. The distance between them was so close their bodies were practically pressed together.
Against the left shoulder of his black robe, where one sleeve had been torn away, he could even feel Eon Hwa-ryeon's breath. It was incredibly deep and faint.
Perhaps because no significant aura had risen, she allowed Jeong Yeon-shin's touch, her eyes flashing with a colorless light. Her gaze, looking down at his collarbone, felt like a chilling blade.
That was all.
Flash!
A flame-like shockwave erupted from her hands. In an instant, the atmosphere distorted. Was she aiming for an overwhelming victory?
Her technique, wrapping around Jeong Yeon-shin's arms like a spiritual serpent, transcended the boundaries of simple fist forms. Simultaneously with the sensation of her violently brushing against his collar, the boy submerged into the realm of extreme speed.
His surroundings slowed down. So did the sensation of Eon Hwa-ryeon's bare forearm sliding up the black sleeve of his right arm, accompanied by the uniquely buoyant sensation of the Jinju Eon Family's Body Protection Qi. His train of thought raced like a gale.
'Ignorance. Carelessness.'
He had already completed his insight into her the moment he took that single step. The structure of the true qi composing her Body Protection Qi was profound. It flowed in the patterns of the Eight Trigrams, crossing irregularly. It was an incredibly solid structure.
But that was fine.
The Upper Dantian in his mind was burning white-hot, superheating his head. He split a single moment into a hundred fragments. It felt as if his consciousness were dissolving into a pure white flash.
While keeping his fingers pressed against Eon Hwa-ryeon's solar plexus, the boy slightly lowered his elbow. He moved subtly, as if gently yielding to her bare-handed restraint. With his mind bathed in light, he calculated the principles of the Eight Trigrams governing her internal energy barrier.
'Later Heaven Eight Trigrams. Qian, Dui, Kun. I must strike within one-tenth of my exhalation... Now.'
There was no reason to break the structure of her Body Protection Qi. It was all thanks to the Eon Family's Number One Fist talking for so long. If he aligned his internal energy with the texture of her power and inserted it, a single stream of true qi would instantly transform into the Internal Heavy Hand Technique.
The young Commander of the Demonlight Wing dragged the duel down into the realm of pure sensation.
Slide.
Just before his hands could be snapped within Eon Hwa-ryeon's arms, the boy rotated his Law-Transcending Halo Qi to the northwest, southwest, and west.
It was the split second their legs overlapped and their arms entangled. Jeong Yeon-shin applied force to his Sword Secret Finger pressed against her solar plexus. A sharply honed shockwave seeped into her Body Protection Qi.
Huagai, Xuanji, and Tiantu. The intangible force of his Fa Jin severed the acupoints and fine meridians around her solar plexus, snapping them strand by strand.
"What...!"
Eon Hwa-ryeon's gasped breath tickled his ear. The boy clearly felt the internal power throughout her entire body falter.
Their bodies were pressed close together in the narrow space. The ripples of true qi scattered over the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's black robe. The moment he silently added force to the Halo Qi in his Sword Secret Finger, Eon Hwa-ryeon's entire musculature collapsed heavily. Bundles of her tendons spasmed, contracting and relaxing erratically. It was the Internal Heavy Hand Technique. It had connected perfectly.
Slowly, Jeong Yeon-shin laid her down onto the ground. Eon Hwa-ryeon panted heavily, her eyes wide with shock. Only then did she seem to realize what kind of technique she had been hit with. Her slightly parted lips bore testament to the supreme expert's sheer astonishment.
Looking down at her indifferently, the boy slowly turned and walked away.
Step, step.
As he walked toward Heonwon Chang's flag, he felt a quiet sense of relief. Had they fought purely with their base martial arts, he would have lost.
It did not matter whether the cornered Alliance had instructed Eon Hwa-ryeon to use her words, or if the arrogance of the Eon Family's Number One Fist had grown after breaking his Infinite Flower of Time Hand. As long as his enemies remained ignorant of his lifespan and constitution, this was a result that would repeat itself time and time again.
"The Desolate Fortress accepted the challenge. Thus, I, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, participated in your Alliance's Sect Founding Ceremony."
The boy’s voice was not loud, yet it possessed a piercing clarity that cut through the stifling atmosphere of the battlefield. He spoke with a steady, unhurried cadence as he walked, each of his measured footsteps echoing against the ruined stone of the arena. He did not look back at the supreme expert he had just left utterly paralyzed with shock. His gaze was already fixed entirely on his destination at the very edge of the stage. The weight of his declared title—the Commander of the Demonlight Wing—hung heavily in the air, a stark and terrifying contrast to his youthful appearance.
"Now that the matter is settled, and the flag remains unbroken..."
He let the sentence trail off, allowing the unspoken implications of his absolute victory to wash over the breathless spectators. Reaching the boundary of the stage, he extended one hand and firmly gripped the thick steel flagpole that had been driven deep into the ground.
The moment his palm made contact with the icy metal, a sudden, piercingly cool sensation traveled rapidly up his arm. It was a stark contrast to the boiling heat of the battle he had just concluded. This refreshing chill surged through his meridians, flowing upward like a tranquil stream until it reached the very center of his mind, seeming to perfectly cool and soothe his Upper Dantian. The lingering chaotic energies within his body settled into a state of pristine, crystalline focus.
Whoosh—!
Without a single moment of hesitation, he unleashed the explosive shockwave of the Wind God Movement Technique. The profound martial art activated instantly, surging throughout his entire body and manifesting in the physical world. A fierce, howling gale swept out from his very center, spiraling outward and violently whipping the heavy fabric of his pitch-black robes. The dark cloth snapped and billowed wildly in the sudden storm of his own creation, making him look like a solitary deity of the wind descending upon the mortal realm.
"This, I shall take back."
His final declaration was absolute, leaving no room for argument or defiance from anyone present.
Crack!
With a terrifying display of sheer, unadulterated brute force, the boy yanked the massive flagpole straight upward. The solid stone and compacted earth of the stage shattered around the base, sending jagged fragments of debris scattering across the ground as the steel shaft was violently uprooted from its resting place.
A heavy, suffocating silence had completely settled around the stage, pressing down on the thousands of onlookers who were too stunned to even draw a breath. And there, standing amidst that absolute stillness, the boy held his prize aloft. High above him, caught in the residual, swirling gales of his martial arts, the white robe that had been tied to the flagpole fluttered violently, snapping like a banner of undisputed conquest against the sky.