Chapter 192: Ties of Fate (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 192: Ties of Fate (7)
Silence flooded the area. A massive wave of shock rippled outward.
It swept from the spectator stands, packed with nearly a thousand people, all the way to the watchtowers where martial artists who had mastered the Body Protection Scripture sat.
In that breathless moment, few realized the Sect Founding Ceremony had actually ended.
But the silence didn't last. Cheers erupted from the mouths of those oblivious to the deeper implications of the match.
"Waaaaah—!"
"The young master actually did it!"
"To think I'd live to see such a magnificent sight! Is his bearing not truly peerless?"
"Defeating so many renowned martial artists of the Orthodox Factions..."
The crowd couldn't begin to fathom what had just transpired. Only a handful of absolute masters could even guess the method he had used.
Yet, precisely because of their vast experience and profound insight, it was even harder for them to believe. The spectacle that had just unfolded before their eyes defied logic.
"But the Duke of Eminent Fists' internal energy barrier was perfectly intact at the moment of impact."
"It must have been an internal heavy hand technique, right? Penetrating the body protection qi of the Eon Family's Number One Fist... is such a thing even possible?"
"His manipulation of true qi is already at the level of a seamless heavenly robe. I cannot even begin to guess how many directions he channeled a single stream of internal force. To use a single point as a plane and apply multiple rotations... even as I say it, I find it hard to believe. Did he truly execute the silk-reeling power of his internal energy with such minute precision in that split second?"
"Capturing the perfect moment to strike is equally absurd. It's as if his calculations have reached the realm of foresight."
"Achieving the Black Rank of the Desolate Fortress at his age... there was a reason for it."
"The Duke of Eminent Fists let her guard down too much. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing was clearly at a disadvantage, but while she was rambling, that boy had already found the key to defeating her. He is a fighter with talent unmatched in a thousand years. She never should have given him time."
"A talent capable of overcoming such a vast gap in martial prowess... truly astonishing."
The crowd filling the spectator stands numbered in the thousands. Among them were masters who had simply come to watch, completely unaffiliated with the Alliance.
Martial artists hovering between the Orthodox and Heterodox paths, as well as masters from sects that had not joined the Martial World Alliance, feverishly discussed the martial theories they had just witnessed.
At the core of every discussion was a profound admiration for the new Commander of the Demonlight Wing. However, there were also those wearing complex expressions, deeply displeased by the rising power of the Desolate Fortress.
"Since the scale of the Alliance is unprecedented, I thought the Desolate Fortress would be held in check for a while... but now, I have no idea how the power dynamics of the Jianghu will shift."
"The Martial World Alliance has only two paths to choose from. Either they double down on saving face even more aggressively, or they seek peace with the Desolate Fortress."
"Peace, you say? The Desolate Fortress is a great sect that does not know the meaning of compromise. Unless the Alliance sends a hostage, wouldn't it be difficult?"
"An alliance through marriage is also worth considering. It's a method commonly used by the noble families. Who knows what might happen if a key Black Rank figure and an influential member of the Alliance were wed?"
"The Alliance shouldn't be in such a desperate position, but... we shall see. The storm stirred up by that Commander of the Demonlight Wing will have massive repercussions."
Meanwhile, a heavy silence reigned near the leadership tent, which was draped in a luxurious white canopy.
"..."
No one dared to speak first. They merely read the room, casting cautious glances at the heads of the noble families and the renowned masters representing the sect leaders.
The Jegal Clan Leader, possessing a lofty and noble aura, remained entirely silent. His face was concealed behind a white crane fan adorned with dark blue tassels. His snow-white robe and pale skin exuded an exceptionally cold temperament.
Rather than petty anger, his demeanor resembled the deep contemplation of an absolute ruler whose grand plans had gone awry.
The Martial World Alliance's Sect Founding Ceremony had been hijacked, turned into a promotional stage for the Desolate Fortress.
The new Unit Commander had flaunted his martial prowess right in the heart of the Alliance. In the end, he had thoroughly conquered the Sect Founding Ceremony.
Until now, none of the tasks attempted by the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Flash Art, had come with a guarantee of success or victory.
The request to defeat the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost of the Sword Saint, who lived in seclusion, and the duel with the Eon Family's Number One Fist, who had been explicitly provided with counter-tactics to Flash Art's martial arts—both were supposed to be impossible hurdles.
The very reasons they had tolerated the young master's exploits and set up this stage had been rendered utterly meaningless. The Alliance had hit a massive snag right from the start.
"Just give him the Great Restoration Pill and send him away. It wasn't our property to begin with anyway."
A middle-aged swordsman with fierce, piercing eyes broke the silence. It was the Moyong Clan Head, the greatest swordsman of Liaodong, draped in a deep pink robe.
"The longer that brat stays, the more misfortune seems to plague Hanzhong. With the eyes of the entire Jianghu fixed here, neither the clan heads nor the elders can do anything to him. Sending him away is the only answer."
"..."
"Many of those whom the Jegal Clan Leader sent to devise a counter-strategy ended up forming ties with the Commander of the Demonlight Wing instead. It is best to get rid of him before he gains further popularity within the Orthodox Factions. I heard that despite his arrogant behavior on the stage, his true nature is gentle and honest. That is a relief, at least. If a fellow who has conquered the Sect Founding Ceremony and gained the recognition of our Alliance starts digging into our affairs, hiding our dirty laundry will become incredibly troublesome."
His words were blunt and unreserved. He was the only person who dared to speak his mind freely in front of the Jegal Clan Leader.
He was indirectly referencing the matter involving the Deep Martial Alliance and the deceased Branch Head. It was the sole remaining source of anxiety after the Sect Founding Ceremony had ended in such a disaster.
The Jegal Clan Leader merely nodded in silence. Contempt dripped from his eyes as he stared at the fallen Eon Hwa-ryeon.
The martial artists of the Eon Family were already rushing toward her, carefully avoiding the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Fresh blood trickled from the lips of Eon Hwa-ryeon, her heart vessels having been ruptured. Standing to one side, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Flash Art, held his banner high amidst the deafening cheers of the crowd.
At this moment, the boy stood at the center of the world. At least for now.
Glancing at them, the Moyong Clan Head turned his gaze toward the spectator stands.
The subordinate of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing—the one who had loudly denounced Eon Hwa-ryeon earlier—was cheering boisterously.
"That fellow." A cold light flickered in the Moyong Clan Head's eyes. "He looks familiar for some reason. Aside from this current mess, something about him rubs me the wrong way. I cannot recall where I have seen him, but it likely wasn't under pleasant circumstances."
"He is a worthless scoundrel. Judging by his behavior, his origins must be lowly as well."
The voice came from beside him. It was Moyong Myeong-jun, dressed in a light pink martial uniform. He spoke while glaring at Heonwon Chang, following his father's gaze. He slowly continued.
"He is closer to an idle talker with no real substance. His martial prowess is..."
He cut himself off. He examined Heonwon Chang using the eye technique he had acquired from the tomb of a nameless Heavenly Demon.
A strange sensation prevented him from speaking with absolute certainty. It was a different feeling from the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, whose level was simply far beyond Moyong Myeong-jun's ability to gauge.
Even though what was visible to the naked eye seemed to be everything there was to the man, his ultimate eye technique urged him to look closer.
"You haven't trained in vain," the Moyong Clan Head said, glancing at his son. "He showed a particularly strong hostility even among the envoys of the Desolate Fortress. Keep an eye on that fellow as well until the Commander of the Demonlight Wing departs."
"...Yes, Father." Moyong Myeong-jun lowered his head slightly.
The elders of the two greatest pillars of the Alliance were highly authoritarian. This was true for both the Moyong Clan and the Jegal Clan.
The rising stars who held the rights of succession had no choice but to absolutely obey their clan heads.
Furthermore, Moyong Myeong-jun was currently competing for succession against his sister, who was guarding the main family estate.
Recently, the eldest daughter of the Moyong Clan had grown more powerful after taking in a Brightfolk expert as a son-in-law. That new addition to the noble clan was an extraordinary individual who possessed the secret to making the family's lands fertile even during a year of famine.
I must achieve merit.
His own face was his father's face. Such was the upbringing of the rising stars of prestigious families. He could not allow rash words or actions to compromise their dignity.
"I will focus on monitoring him alongside the Commander of the Demonlight Wing," Moyong Myeong-jun spoke once more.
Glancing indifferently at him, the Moyong Clan Head spoke on behalf of the silent Jegal Clan Leader.
"In any case, let us wrap up the remaining itinerary within two days and send them on their way. Only the Sword Saint will find it regrettable."
*
The crowd did not disperse. They chattered loudly, filling the bright autumn air with their clamor.
This was because the Alliance leadership, who had been absolutely certain of the Eon Family's Number One Fist's victory, had already announced the next event on the itinerary.
Although the highly anticipated duel between the Sword Saint and the Commander of the Demonlight Wing was scheduled for tomorrow, today's final event still remained.
The Martial World Alliance's Sect Founding Ceremony was a festival that had been widely publicized for a long time. With public notices posted throughout the Central Plains, the level of attention it drew was immense.
They had announced beforehand that they would present the Shaolin Temple's Great Restoration Pill. Many had gathered in hopes of catching even a whiff of the spiritual elixir bestowed upon the champion.
"Is that..."
"The legendary elixir of a thousand years is contained within that box."
"Doesn't the air feel clearer somehow?"
The people whispered in awe.
On the very spot where Eon Hwa-ryeon had been carried away on the backs of the Jinju Eon Family's masters, the Grand Military Advisor of the Inner Court of the Martial World Alliance stepped onto the duel stage. Her robes, catching the pure sunlight, fluttered elegantly.
In Miss Ye's hands was an antique wooden box.
Tap, tap.
She approached Jeong Yeon-shin with light steps. Holding his banner tilted downward, the boy silently gazed at Miss Ye.
As the black robe of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing brushed against the crisp autumn breeze, the two stood face-to-face.
"It's the Great Restoration Pill," she murmured, her lips parting slightly. "I have verified it myself, so it is indeed the genuine article."
"I see," the boy replied, looking at the wooden box Miss Ye held in both hands.
The fruit of his considerable time spent at the Alliance was right there. He had secured more than enough achievements. All that remained was to ensure his maternal grandfather's safety.
Slide.
As he took the wooden box, their hands brushed lightly against its underside. A soft sensation touched the side of Jeong Yeon-shin's finger.
Her fingertips were remarkably delicate for a martial artist, belying the subtle, high-level principles of footwork embedded in her steps.
She spoke playfully. "My congratulations, young Unit Commander."
"Thank you," the boy replied. Thanks to Seon-ryong Jegal Hyeon, Gongson Min, the Small Sword Empress, and the Perfected Heavenly Pillar, he had come to hold no prejudice against the people of the Alliance.
She was different from the other renowned masters. Even now, a subtle warmth flowed into him, as if gently melting his upper dantian.
Miss Ye's goodwill was pure. She had been completely consistent from their very first meeting until now.
I don't know her innermost thoughts, but I should return the favor.
Jeong Yeon-shin calmly parted his lips, thinking of the connections he had made.
He intended to invite Jegal Hyeon and Gongson Min, whom he had thought of earlier, as well as the Perfected Heavenly Pillar, Taoist Yu-hyeon, and of course, the Small Sword Empress.
"If you come to the Rhyme-Fragrance Court before I leave, I will treat you to Longjing tea. I have prepared plenty," the boy said.
In that instant, Miss Ye's breath hitched slightly. Her ruby-red lips curved upward.
How was she looking at the boy through the white silk covering her eyes? Regardless of how his upper dantian sensed her qi, her figure was undeniably beautiful.
Beautiful?
The boy grumpily retraced his own thoughts.
Previously, while looking at Ak Su-rim, the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress, he had felt the stark reality of death. Along with a throbbing pain in his knees, a strange sensation had washed over him—something he had never experienced before.
He had become needlessly conscious of her as a woman. He was growing older. Now, the feeling was even more distinct than it had been back then.
Did those who started families, did his own mother, all live their lives carrying such cumbersome sensations?
It was strange and frightening. For the boy, natural changes only signified an approaching catastrophe.
Death stroked his spine.
Jeong Yeon-shin stared at Miss Ye, who was facing him. The pure white blindfold felt as if it were her very eyes.
Unconcerned with the boy's internal confusion, the sunlight shimmered and sparkled across her. Jeong Yeon-shin unconsciously averted his gaze. It was as if he were turning away from the demise that drew ever closer with the end of autumn.
"You've invited me, right? I'm really going to go."
"If you don't send word in advance, my companion will kick you out."
"Yes, I understand. I'll send a letter first," she replied with a smile. It was a flawless, bright smile.
The curve of Miss Ye's lips seemed to awaken the crowd's awareness once more, making them realize that the Sect Founding Ceremony had truly concluded.
Once again, cheers erupted. They were louder than ever before.
The shouts echoed as if they would tear the sky open. The joys and sorrows of the Central Plains people, who loved nothing more than to gamble, permeated the azure sky.
"The Commander of the Demonlight Wing! To think a young master who follows the path of righteousness is so incredibly strong!"
"Flash Art won! I am a wealthy man now!"
"I lost everything—!"
"Thank you for broadening our horizons!"
Amidst the deafening cheers, the boy clearly heard Miss Ye's footsteps.
Tap, tap.
"Get some good rest today. See you tomorrow."
She slowly turned around. Today, her long skirt, draped as if she were wearing formal court attire, lightly swept the floor.
It was accompanied by the sound of her soft, solitary chuckle. Her pitch-black hair fluttered as if to mirror her smile, creating a stark contrast against her white, palace-like robes. Miss Ye walked away with light steps.
The boy in the black robe stood alone on the duel stage.
He held the wooden box containing the Great Restoration Pill in his left hand. In his right hand, he held the white Desolate Fortress Banner of the Hero of the Desolate Fortress, tilted downward.
The shouting grew infinitely louder. It was a place where respect, goodwill, anger, and joy over the outcome of the Sect Founding Ceremony violently swirled together.
*
The next day.
Sitting cross-legged by the pond of the Rhyme-Fragrance Court, the boy welcomed three guests. They were highly renowned figures, rarely seen anywhere.
Even the two who were relatively younger were no exception. The faces of these noble guests shone in the autumn sunlight.
Among them was the noble swordsman of the Mount Hua Sect.
"Putting aside personal matters... I have come to give you the key to completely unifying your sword techniques," the Perfected Heavenly Pillar said. "The foundation of swordplay lies in continuous forms. To withstand the sword of the Sword Saint, clumsily woven sword moves will simply not suffice."
They sat where mountain birds sang from the tree branches, their chirping clear and bright.
It was exactly one day before the "Teachings of the Sword Saint"—a face-saving measure devised by the Alliance leadership in preparation for any unforeseen circumstances.