Chapter 198: Lightning-Flash Sword Ridge Style (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 198: Lightning-Flash Sword Ridge Style (6)
Even after hearing Heonwon Chang's harsh words, no one reacted.
The actions of the Flash Art, Commander of the Demonlight Wing, had thoroughly shamed the martial artists of the Orthodox Factions. Any clumsy response to the provocation would only make them look pathetic.
Everyone knew it. The crowd was full of people either averting their eyes or staring blankly into space.
Hmph.
The Hero of the Desolate Fortress raised his chin with feigned arrogance.
He had thrown out those words to dismiss the Alliance experts, while simultaneously offering a strange sort of consolation—as if to say, This subordinate understands the Commander's heart.
The term "funeral dirge" was fitting. It was a poetic line crafted to sound exactly like one, yet the context made it peculiar.
To anyone who knew the Flash Art's true constitution, it carried a vastly different meaning.
Heonwon Chang believed that he and Jeong Yeon-shin were the only ones present who could read between the lines.
He was wrong.
"The young man's words are profound. My family's master merely sought to grant his rival eternal rest. He acted out of righteous chivalry."
It was the short-statured Poison Lord, Tang Un-hwang, who stepped forward.
The aura of the small giant of Ironfolk descent surged outward like a swelling tide. It was overwhelmingly powerful.
He had come to repay a debt. This was a seed Jeong Yeon-shin had sown during his travels through the Jianghu, and it had bloomed into an incredibly reliable ally.
Since they lacked neither martial might nor justification, the Alliance would now be forced to sort out its own internal mess.
"From this moment on, the Tang Clan will prioritize the safety of the Hidden King Amidst Flowers above all else. The Jegal Clan Leader should refrain from acting rashly and await the Alliance's decision."
A strange gleam flashed in Heonwon Chang's eyes as he listened with satisfaction.
Then, suddenly, he noticed the girl standing next to his Commander. Her eyes had widened slightly, her clear pupils darting back and forth.
It had started right after he uttered that brilliant poetic line.
The fierce spirit she had displayed when exposing her father's shame before the crowd was completely gone. Now, she was stealing glances at Jeong Yeon-shin's profile, her lips parted in a blank stare.
She seemed deeply shocked by something—and even more deeply moved.
As Heonwon Chang took in this sight, his mind began to spin.
She examined the scars closely enough to unravel our Commander's martial arts. If she's called the "Eyes of the Jegal Clan," her mastery of eye techniques must be truly astronomical. It makes sense that she could see anything in those scars. But why is she making that face after hearing my verse...?
Damn it, could it be...?
The moment Heonwon Chang's eyes widened, his gaze locked with Jegal Cheong-a's. The girl's face instantly went blank.
She had rapidly regained her composure. A noble clan is indeed a noble clan, Heonwon Chang thought to himself.
How sly.
As the Divine Hero of the Desolate Fortress, it was time to genuinely ponder: could he target the precious daughter of the Jegal Clan and silence her forever?
Just then.
Jegal Cheong-a, possessing a sharp wit inherited from her father, shook her head slightly.
As she did so—a gesture whose true meaning was hard to fathom—sunlight rippled through her hair. Was she promising to play dumb?
How can I trust that?
Heonwon Chang furrowed his brow, his deep-seated distrust of the great sects of the Jianghu flaring up.
Meanwhile, the situation in the courtyard continued to develop rapidly. With Jeong Yeon-shin standing at the center holding the corpse of the Azure Qilin, the incident was finally reaching a resolution.
It was an event that would send a massive, albeit slow, ripple effect across the vast Jianghu, reaching far beyond the Alliance itself.
"We must call for a meeting of the leaders! The agenda will be the self-reflection of the Jegal Clan Leader!"
"Commander of the Forest-Treading Unit, please withdraw your forces. Our Alliance will not harm the envoy."
The true power of prestigious local aristocrats and noble clans always revealed itself in moments like this. The connections of a leader from an ancient, illustrious sect were both numerous and far-reaching.
There were those who wished to settle the matter quietly. Stepping forward with feigned indignation, they spoke of 'self-reflection' and 'seclusion.'
Their intention was obvious: they wanted to preserve the Jegal Clan Leader's position.
He was a peerless master who still stood atop the roof like an elegant crane, silently looking down upon the crowd.
The Reincarnated Crouching Dragon, the Jegal Clan Leader, was incredibly clever.
He knew that opening his mouth right now would bring him no benefit. He wanted the seeds he had sown and his trusted subordinates to play their parts for him.
Self-reflection? As if.
That could not be allowed. Heonwon Chang gestured to the Lazy Flame Dragon. The oldest nameless disciple of the Demonlight Wing smirked and reached into his robes.
"Take a look at this, everyone."
He pulled out a letter. It was a document obtained from a dead corrupt official.
It was undeniable proof that the Jegal Clan Leader had bought the favor of the Branch Head in exchange for turning a blind eye to the forces of the Deep Martial Alliance.
Holding the letter, the Lazy Flame Dragon conjured a delicate, invisible blade of qi.
Sshhk.
The seal was cut. The document unfurled before everyone's eyes.
Since every person in the courtyard had trained in high-level martial arts, scanning the small handwriting from a distance was a trivial task.
They could clearly see the calligraphy, which flowed like a living dragon, and the Jegal Clan Leader's official seal stamped firmly at the bottom of the document.
"……!"
Snap.
In that instant, the Jegal Clan Leader snapped his fan shut.
The strike, originating from a tiny flick of his wrist, left afterimages in its wake.
A storm of force erupted from the ribs of the fan, threatening to tear the Lazy Flame Dragon's hand to shreds, but it was instantly shattered to pieces by Ak Su-rim's sweeping long spear.
The faces of those who had just spoken of the Jegal Clan Leader's "self-reflection" contorted miserably.
"Where does a mere scholar get off trying to diminish the achievements of the Demonlight Wing? Stay still."
Her hair, ruffled by the shockwave, fluttered lightly in the wind. Standing beside her, Hahu Wi-jin bared his teeth in a savage grin.
As if daring them to try something else, he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists, seemingly unable to suppress his ferocious nature.
The figures supporting the young Commander had firmly established the Desolate Fortress's domain right in the middle of the Alliance.
It was the finishing touch.
The Flash Art, holding the corpse of his worthy rival, now possessed absolute justification and overwhelming martial might. He was backed by the unwavering support of his subordinates and escorted by his seniors.
Only now could Jeong Yeon-shin, Commander of the Demonlight Wing, finally let the Azure Qilin go.
"It is indeed the Chief Strategist's handwriting. Even the sorcerous power infused in the seal matches..."
"To think he flattered the Branch Head without even maintaining his dignity."
"Behaving worse than the Desolate Fortress..."
An alliance had the disadvantage of slow decision-making, but it possessed the distinct advantage of making it incredibly easy to shift responsibility.
The Alliance elders, who had never looked favorably upon the Jegal Clan Leader, quickly stepped forward. Though it was an alliance of Orthodox sects, it was still a place governed by human nature.
Political strife was inevitable. It was simply that they had found it difficult to stretch their wings under the oppressive influence of the Jegal Clan.
The events set in motion by the Commander of the Demonlight Wing had perfectly woven together to reshape the entire political landscape.
Sigh—
The Jegal Clan Leader let out a long sigh, almost as if imitating Zhuge Liang, and closed his eyes. He was the head of a noble clan of the Orthodox Factions.
He was different from the leaders of the Heterodox Sects. Even in utter ruin, he maintained his dignity, sinking into the mire with an aloof expression.
Yet, no one showed him any sympathy. None dared to.
On the boundary between silence and clamor, the affairs of the Alliance had finally left the hands of outsiders. The Tang Clan Leader bowed to his family's young mentor and began to clear the courtyard.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood silently, feeling the fading warmth of Namgung Se-jin's corpse turn cold.
A few maple leaves, blown in by the tail end of autumn, brushed against their faces before falling to the ground.
They were red and translucent. Sunlight shattered faintly over the leaves, which resembled the palms of a child.
The young man who had died, unable to resist the crushing hierarchy of the turbulent Jianghu, now found rest in the arms of his rival—a rival who would now hold sway over even the massive coalitions of the great sects.
*
The Sword Saint, Hyeon So-baek, was a native of Zezhou in Shanxi Province, born into a family with no ties to the Jianghu.
There were no notable great sects in the Shanxi martial world.
It was only recently that it had transformed into a land of opportunity for those seeking fortune, all due to the discovery of a nameless Tomb of the Heavenly Demon over a decade ago.
Furthermore, around that time, Hyeon So-baek had been roaming the Henan Jianghu.
He was just like the heroes of countless legends.
At the age of twelve, he had suddenly desired to rule the world.
He left home carrying only a single coin pouch. Fortunately, he was able to enter the service of a vagabond known as the Eternal Spring Sword Wanderer.
He became a page who polished and carried his master's blade. He was called a sword boy.
From a young age, Hyeon So-baek possessed an inherently trustworthy character. Even his master, who had a notoriously rough temperament, and his traveling companions soon opened their hearts to him.
From these wanderers, who constantly had to worry about whether they would survive to see the next day, he occasionally learned breathing techniques and practical swordsmanship.
Then, a terrifying talent began to manifest.
He wove together the Three Talents Mental Method, widely distributed by the Ming Imperial Family, and the Eternal Spring Sword Wanderer's Five Elements Heart Method.
He took the Brightfolk secret art—which empowered the body and the earth to create men of Herculean strength while slightly fertilizing the fields—and sublimated it alongside the clumsy wanderer's heart method to create the All-Encompassing Imperturbable Heart Art.
It was the raw talent of a grandmaster capable of founding his own martial lineage.
"Do not live a rootless life. Swing your sword in the direction you intend."
Time passed, and those were the last words left by the Eternal Spring Sword Wanderer as he lay dying amidst the corpses of his companions.
The rough words carried the deep sorrow of a wanderer. It was a farewell that pushed the now-grown sword boy straight into the true Jianghu of experts.
Martial arts were a power that turned humans into beasts.
Even with the presence of the government army and the Desolate Fortress, the lineages of the Heterodox Sects multiplied like insects.
It was a world where a man could eat his fill with just a single sword and escape death using a Body Protection Scripture. This was possible simply because the land was endlessly vast.
Hyeon So-baek fought countless battles and aided the common people.
While dealing with trivial Unorthodox factions, he even made an enemy out of the Thirteen Heavens. Around that time, Hyeon So-baek was refining his rough wanderer's sword into his own unique brand of swordsmanship.
As the years passed, his swordplay grew ever more profound. Eventually, it transformed into a Divine Ultimate Technique with few rivals in the world.
This was entirely thanks to his innate sword talent, commonly referred to as "geomjae." His natural gift was oriented far more toward the physical manipulation of the blade than internal qi cultivation.
The Heaven-Piercing Mura Sword Technique.
It marked the advent of the Sword Saint.
Legendary achievements were forged wherever he walked. After a fierce battle, he had even decapitated the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance.
His experience and reputation accumulated to an immense degree. He was more than qualified to be nominated as the Alliance Leader of the Orthodox Factions.
Even though he knew he was designated to be a mere figurehead, he accepted the position.
Wandering the continent with other vagabonds, he had witnessed a world plunged into misery. He believed he had a duty to make the Orthodox Factions truly righteous.
And now.
"I have many things to apologize to you for. My shame is not small either."
Hyeon So-baek had achieved a great feat today.
He had completely ousted the Jegal Clan Leader and now stood facing the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. Because the fan-wielding man of power had belonged to the Orthodox Factions, it was only right that he step down.
He was accompanied by his lover, the Eon Family's Number One Fist. Meanwhile, the Moyong Clan Head, unable to cope with the Alliance Leader who had joined forces with the direct descendants of the Jegal Clan, had gone into seclusion.
Yet, standing high above all these political matters was the young Commander of the Desolate Fortress before him.
"On the contrary, I am grateful," Jeong Yeon-shin replied. "Had the Sword Saint taken the Jegal Clan Leader's side, things would have become quite complicated."
"No. This old man's prestige has already been crushed by the ways of the world. I even joined hands with the Jegal Clan Leader just to observe the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps' martial arts. As they say, 'he who nears ink turns black'—I, too, am already a hypocrite. Even after securing the Alliance like this, I cannot free myself from the duty of keeping the Desolate Fortress in check. I must soothe and lead the anxious Orthodox sects... Well, my tongue has certainly grown long."
It was a conversation between a brilliant rising star and an old expert who had undergone rejuvenation. It was calm, yet bitter.
They stood in a garden where fallen maple leaves were spread more brilliantly than blooming flowers.
Within this picturesque scenery, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing—clad in a black robe missing its left sleeve—held his sword pointing downward.
From his calmly settled aura, sharp ripples of qi occasionally flashed outward. Each time they did, the red leaves at his feet cleanly split in half on their own.
The shockwave of his full-body force emission was incredibly sharp. He was utilizing his entire body as a true swordsman.
Those present marveled at the sight.
"Has our Flash Art changed again? His progress is even faster than the previous generation's old man. When we return, that old man's mouth will tear from grinning so wide."
"I don't know about his progress, but his starting stance definitely has some class. Perhaps one of his ancestors belonged to our clan."
This scene was being watched by Ak Su-rim, the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress, and Hahu Wi-jin, the Thousand-Fist Dragon-Strength Retainer, who were casually perched on a nearby boulder.
Behind the Sword Saint, the representatives of the Alliance stood straight in a wide semi-circle.
The Tang Clan Leader, the Hwasan Sword Excellence, Yu-hyeon, the Small Sword Empress, Jegal Hyeon, Jegal Cheong-a, Ak Ye-rim, Moyong Myeong-jun, Gongson Min, and the heads of the Namgung collateral branches were all present.
Among them, only the positioning of Miss Ye, the Chief Strategist of the Imperial Court, was strangely different. Despite being affiliated with the Alliance, she stood closer to Jeong Yeon-shin than even the members of the Desolate Fortress.
She stood gracefully with her hands behind her back, her ebony hair cascading down her shoulders. The distance and angle she maintained were so exquisite that it would have been awkward for anyone to object.
"What do you think, Clan Leader? Will the Commander of the Demonlight Wing be able to gain some enlightenment from this?"
"How could my eye for the sword possibly compare to that of the Mount Hua Sect's Sword Excellence? I am merely concerned for his safety."
"As a humble junior, I would love to hear the opinions of you two seniors. I have only trained in the Sun-Shooting Sword, so my knowledge is not broad... but I have never seen such a sword form before. Could the rumors be true? They say Commander Jeong is creating his own martial arts. Miss Ak of the Spear mentioned it earlier as well..."
Several rising stars from direct lineages were attending as representatives of their respective great sects.
Since their sect leaders had not attended, they had gathered here to witness the final ritual of the Sect Founding Ceremony.
A founding ceremony was the most sacred event of any sect. The ritual itself symbolized the sect's absolute legitimacy.
Just because a massive disturbance had occurred didn't mean they could let the ceremony be completely ruined. They had to exchange at least a single strike to finalize it.
The Sword Saint and the Flash Art.
The old swordsman with a young man's face had truly looked forward to today.
Even while forcing himself to cater to the whims of the powerful for the sake of the greater good, he always welcomed the emergence of a new talent.
The moment he recognized Jeong Yeon-shin's monstrous talent and the curse of his Heavenly Punishment, he had sighed deeply. He sincerely hoped that a talent destined to be a guiding star for the common people would not perish in vain.
He even thought to himself that he would have taken the boy as his own disciple had they only met a little sooner.
Lord of the Desolate Fortress, I truly cannot fathom your intentions.
The Sword Saint, Hyeon So-baek, had never taken a disciple. This was because he had lost his master, the Eternal Spring Sword Wanderer, so early on, right before his very eyes.
The Jianghu was a cruel, unforgiving place. He was extremely reluctant to pass down that same sorrow to a disciple.
Having encountered the exact opposite scenario today, he grew intensely curious about the Lord of the Desolate Fortress's state of mind. What thoughts did a master harbor when taking in a disciple destined for an early death?
"Come forward," Hyeon So-baek said, quietly drawing his sword and angling it downward. It had been a very long time since his natural movements had stopped making any sound when unsheathing a blade.
A quiet elegance flowed from the hilt, which was crafted from a simple polished log.
It was accompanied by a sudden surge of anticipation that had arisen before he even realized it.
Hyeon So-baek tried to recall the last time he had felt genuine excitement from another person's swordplay.
Perhaps because his memories had been worn blunt by the storms of time, nothing came to mind.
Or perhaps it was because he himself possessed a "geomjae" great enough to rise from a lowly wanderer to the Alliance Leader of the Orthodox Factions.
Finding inspiration in the techniques of an inferior was incredibly difficult. To move him, their sword path had to be imbued with dramatic, world-shaking ingenuity.
He had felt nothing but displeasure even when facing the swordsmanship of the former Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance, so he knew he shouldn't place such a heavy burden of expectation on the young Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Even if the boy's talent was exceptionally extraordinary, that fact remained true. It was fortunate he hadn't voiced these thoughts aloud.
I've been having some foolish thoughts.
Hyeon So-baek let go of his grand expectations. He decided to act simply as a guiding senior of the Jianghu.
"Let us fully refine your swordsmanship."
The moment he spoke, the onlookers—composed entirely of the upper echelon of the Jianghu—fell dead silent.
Step.
The Flash Art silently took a step forward. Northern Light, was it? He raised the divine sword, said to have been forged by the Tang Clan, high above his head.
It was a sword path tracing a high stance. The pure white blade came to a halt, pointing straight toward the clouds.
For a moment, a chilly silence fell over the garden.
Something is different.
Hyeon So-baek felt it instinctively. A faint, whitish current of qi was unfurling from the blade of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
The shockwave of force, taking physical form like smoke upon meeting the air, completely coated the blade. It flowed down to the hilt, brushing past his right hand, and gently fluttered his pitch-black robes as if teasing the fabric.
He had wrapped his entire body in the wind. It was a biting, wintry gale.
A nameless swordsmanship was on the verge of finally gaining its name.