Chapter 232: Precious Sword (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 232: Precious Sword (5)
The question was blunt.
To some, he might have seemed like a rebellious, childish boy.
But to those who understood the ways of the world, he was anything but.
Standing some distance away, Gal Do-jin also perceived it as an incomprehensible feat. He could swear it wasn't So Yu-rang's doing.
In an instant, the wooden cup in the uninvited guest’s hand had simply dissolved into the air.
'He did that… with internal energy? No way.'
If the trick he had just witnessed was purely a martial arts technique, it was a method of profound depth, its principles impossible to fathom.
Perhaps it was something one could only witness in the domains of the great sects, where immortals were rumored to reside. It was a sight that even exceptionally pure internal energy would struggle to produce.
'There are no special markings on his clothes. The same goes for the inner sleeves of his cloak. Did he wear plain clothing on purpose?'
A cold glint flashed in the eyes of the Chivalrous Blade, Gal Do-jin.
Someone with such extraordinary skill and aura couldn't possibly be a mere wanderer. He wasn't some simple rogue cultivator; he had to be from a prestigious sect, hiding his identity.
By then, his sworn brother was letting out a dazed gasp.
“Uh, uh…”
It was said that the Unorthodox Factions followed the law of the jungle.
So Yu-rang was a genius capable of mastering the divine arts of the Zhongnan Sect. He had fully mastered the secret manuals plundered by the Hegemon Sword Sect and Lingering Spirit.
He didn't lack comprehension, and he was quick-witted. However, fully accepting the sight before his eyes was another matter entirely.
“Just now…?”
So Yu-rang’s heel twitched. He hesitated, about to step back, but froze. It was difficult to show any reaction.
The Unorthodox martial world was just that sort of place—intuitive and crude.
The life and death of the weak rested entirely in the hands of the strong. So Yu-rang, too, had lived that way, brief though his life had been.
'I didn't feel any aura? Could it be… because it happened too fast…?'
The world was boundlessly vast. Even if the Desolate Fortress and the many great sects existed in the martial world, they were but a handful when considering the entire continent.
It was not easy to meet a powerhouse who could look down on the Exalted Remaining Lands Sect. Until now, he had enjoyed a life of taking whatever he wanted from others.
But what about now? Was he the weak one?
It was a single move, performed by someone his own age. Sitting casually, the stranger had executed a dreamlike technique. The wooden cup had vanished without a trace.
Could he be sure it wasn't some bizarre sorcerous art? But even if it was, what difference would it make? The result was the same.
Just as So Yu-rang, the Young Hero of Xi'an, was wavering over how to act, a voice cut through the silence.
“You.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke, still seated.
“I heard you mastered the Nine Yang First Form.”
So Yu-rang and Gal Do-jin thought in unison: 'He came for that?'
Anyone would. The Nine Yang First Form was a sword art left behind by an absolute master of the previous generation. It had been forged by a member of the Sword Sect who was said to have survived a strike from the Lord of the Desolate Fortress.
Even though it was a secret art from outside their sect, the Zhongnan Sect had cast aside their pride to make it the core study for their successor.
Step.
Gal Do-jin, who had been slowly approaching, narrowed his eyes.
'Where is he from? The Burnt-White Sect? I've never heard of such a young expert.'
Greed for martial arts manuals transcended generations and sects. It wouldn't be strange for any faction to send someone.
Since Xi'an was an incredibly vast territory, it was home to many chaotic sects. Ever since the destruction of the Zhongnan Sect, all sorts of factions had been flocking to the city.
The Exalted Remaining Lands Sect, which had been granted the Nine Yang First Form, was tempting prey for other sects of the Wicked Way.
Thanks to the secretive operations of Lingering Spirit, the information wasn't widely known, but many had entered the city aiming for the Zhongnan Sect's secret manuals, spirit herbs, and cultivation methods.
People from all sorts of backgrounds had settled in Xi'an. There was a multitude of Unorthodox Factions and rogue cultivators. It was a world apart from the martial world outside.
Gal Do-jin abruptly spoke up.
“May I ask which sect you belong to, friend? I am Gal Do-jin of the Exalted Remaining Lands Sect.”
“I heard he mastered the Nine Yang First Form,” the uninvited guest replied calmly, repeating his earlier statement.
He tilted his chin slightly, his posture radiating arrogance. It was a demeanor that strangely suited his handsome features.
“I asked a question. Speak.”
It was a command. His voice echoed quietly against the wall that blocked the cold wind.
It was as if he didn't even see the two martial artists as human. In an instant, all movement around them ceased.
“…”
The lanterns illuminating the inn flickered more quietly than ever. Something unimaginable to the people of Xi'an was taking place.
The Exalted Remaining Lands Sect was under the jurisdiction of Lingering Spirit of the Thirteen Heavens and was a powerful sect in its own right.
Here in Namjeon County, Xi'an, they boasted more influence than even the sects serving the Hegemon Sword Sect. They were powerful enough to suppress most local aristocrats.
“What in the world…”
“Is he an assassin from the Burnt-White Sect? Did he come to strike at the Exalted Remaining Lands Sect?”
A few people in the inn began to whisper. Xi'an had always been a place where all kinds of martial artists gathered.
Even the commoners who went about their daily lives were famously fearless.
They had merely been holding their breath under the tyranny of the Unorthodox sects that had entered under the backing of two of the Thirteen Heavens.
“An assassin? What kind of assassin walks in so openly?”
“They say if there are no witnesses, it’s an assassination. It’s called silencing.”
“It’d be more believable if he were the Dark Guest of Xi'an.”
“The Dark Guest? That guy has just been lucky enough not to get caught… His martial prowess is far too lacking to clash with a branch of the Thirteen Heavens. It can't be him.”
“This is nerve-wracking…”
The swords of the Unorthodox Factions had replaced the Great Ming Code.
This structure had been firmly established in a short period. This was the current reality of the Xi'an martial world.
And now, a strange wanderer had intruded upon it. He was like a stone thrown into a placid lake, creating peculiar ripples.
“…How insolent.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Gal Do-jin regretted them.
That wasn't something a martial artist of the Unorthodox Factions should say. He had spoken like an idiot.
He had been overwhelmed by the uninvited guest’s strange aura. Gal Do-jin, the Chivalrous Blade of Xi'an, frowned and cursed himself. Damn it.
A faint curve appeared on the uninvited guest’s lips.
“Is your throat sturdy?”
Sitting on the worn-out chair, he looked up slightly at So Yu-rang. Though his pitch-black eyes were tilted upward, he still gave the impression of looking down on him.
It was a demeanor one could only possess if they were born arrogant.
Gal Do-jin considered the possibility that the uninvited guest was a disciple of the Unorthodox Factions. He shouldn't be viewed as someone of ordinary status, but as a young lord.
'They say the Apostles of the Blood Flame Cult have black hair. Judging by his temperament, he could also be from the Ming Cult or Heaven's Bane. Though I wonder if a figure from the Thirteen Heavens would personally descend here…'
As he was thinking, the man spoke again.
“I asked two things, yet you haven't answered once,” Jeong Yeon-shin murmured quietly.
Swoosh.
He slowly stood up. So Yu-rang, who was close by, and Gal Do-jin, who was slowly approaching, both flinched.
The long hem of the cloak he wore to hide his identity unfurled like a pitch-black shadow. A distinct rustling sound echoed.
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the experts of the Blood Flame Cult and Lazy Flame Dragon as he spoke. Here, he must not evoke the image of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress.
“You force this young master to follow the laws of Xi'an.”
He spoke with deliberate arrogance. Strangely, the words rolled off his tongue quite naturally, making him slightly uncomfortable, as if he had caught that bastard Lazy Flame Dragon's poppy scent.
He also suspected it might be his maternal grandfather’s influence. He didn’t let it show.
'There are an exceptional number of arrogant people around me.'
With the thought that he should beware of bad influences, he brushed aside his idle thoughts.
Then, he opened his lips once more.
“Insignificant trash.”
These were people who slaughtered commoners without a second thought. Compared to their behavior, their martial arts were trivial.
While keeping his aura concealed, Jeong Yeon-shin raised his right arm. He suppressed the Law-Transcending Halo Qi that threatened to swirl from his heart into the fine meridians of his arm. It took but an instant.
The internal energy constantly residing in his acupoints boosted his physical strength—a function of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
His black sleeve, not his usual Desolate Fortress robe, blurred as he struck.
Grab!
He snatched the back of the boy’s head.
The sensation of hair filled his palm. The boy who’d just been babbling about throats couldn't even follow the movement of his right hand. His eyes widened in belated shock.
Whoosh—
A gust of wind spread out. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling swayed briefly. From Jeong Yeon-shin’s perspective, the aftermath could hardly be called an explosive force.
But to others, it seemed different.
“An expert…!”
Gal Do-jin kicked off the ground. The sound of his orange robes fluttering was loud as he shot forward, his footwork like a lightness technique.
Perhaps because this was the Unorthodox martial world, he seemed to judge that the life of his brother, whose vital point had been seized, was in grave danger.
The sight of him moving so urgently to strike, as if to save his brother, left a peculiar impression on Jeong Yeon-shin.
Screech!
The trajectory of his sword draw was straight, unlike what one would expect from the Unorthodox Factions. He lunged, thrusting his sword directly forward.
The dark red stains on the tip of the blade stood out. It seemed he used his sword as nothing more than a consumable tool.
Squeeze.
While watching Gal Do-jin’s strike, Jeong Yeon-shin tightened his grip on the struggling boy’s head.
The boy’s movements stopped instantly. He must have felt a grip that far exceeded his own faint Body Protection Qi. It was a perfect demonstration of the law of the jungle.
By then, Gal Do-jin’s single-point thrust was right before him, aimed directly at his neck.
The fluttering sound of his robes was loud. He was someone who had properly trained in martial arts.
Jeong Yeon-shin swung the back of his left hand. The air split between his five fingers, letting out a long, sharp sound.
Clang—!
He struck the flat of the blade precisely. A ringing shockwave traveled from the back of his hand through the blade.
The sword was knocked outward, tilting away. Unable to overcome his own momentum, Gal Do-jin stumbled right up to Jeong Yeon-shin’s face, having barely managed to keep his grip on the hilt.
A bewildered face entered Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision. It was as expected.
The psychology of an inferior and the limitations of their stances always gave an expert a feeling akin to foresight. This was especially true for a Black Rank peak expert hiding his true martial arts.
“Look up at this young master from below, you trash.”
True Qi exploded from the Yongquan Point on the sole of Jeong Yeon-shin’s right foot. It was a kicking technique.
The tip of his leg blurred into black. Like a rapid sword draw, he kicked Gal Do-jin in the abdomen.
The faint barrier of internal energy the man had raised by crossing his arms was crushed beneath the toe of his leather boot.
It happened in an instant. With a sound like a stack of paper tearing, the kick slammed directly into the center of Gal Do-jin’s abdomen.
Boom!
“Cough—!”
An immense shockwave surged up his blood vessels. Because he had properly unleashed the explosive force of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art, the speed of the impact was incredible.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt it all through his toes, right up until Gal Do-jin’s mouth flew open and he coughed up bright red blood.
He immediately retracted his leg, avoiding the splatter by a hair's breadth.
To the onlookers, his movements appeared incredibly elegant. Every motion was guided by foresight, like a flash of inspiration striking his Baihui Point.
Though rapid, he did not seem rushed. His temperament was the same. Everything about him carried the refined demeanor of a high-class expert.
“…”
The inn was swept by shock. Astonishment spread in all directions like a tidal wave.
Some dropped their utensils, while others stood with their mouths agape. A few hurriedly packed their belongings, wanting to flee.
“They say watching amateurs fight is refreshing. Hmm?”
Jeong Yeon-shin ignored his own casually muttered words.
He slowly turned his gaze, glancing down at the trembling boy in his right hand.
Even after facing him for so long, the boy showed no sign of guessing his identity.
It confirmed the utility of his disguise. In the vast martial world, those who had memorized the portraits of every figure from the great sects were rare indeed.
The fact that the portraits of peak experts were treated almost as top-secret documents also played a part.
The martial artists of the Desolate Fortress branches, who were connected to the government, did not do their jobs sloppily.
Besides, he hadn't even used the martial arts that symbolized the Flash Art.
'My age is the problem, so I must ensure they can't make the connection.'
After his mission was decided, he had received a letter from Ma Jin. It was filled with advice.
—It is best to avoid using human skin masks. They tend to catch the sharp eyes of experts. In any case, you do not need one. If you carry yourself with a bit more boldness in your words and actions, you will be perceived as a young lord of the Wicked Way, like those of the Thirteen Heavens. It was the same for me and your grandfather. I have many thoughts on this matter… but since a mission is at stake, I will only convey the facts. Having watched over you as both an uncle and a unit commander, it seems you, Yeon-shin, are not much different. At any rate, it is a temperament well-suited for a martial artist of the main fortress. I wish you success.
It was a statement that made him tilt his head in thought.
He didn't fully understand it, but he couldn't ignore the advice of the former Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
'As my heart dictates.'
The uninvited guest naturally tilted his head up. His slender jawline was revealed, catching the orange light of the lanterns beautifully.
“Name.”
“So… So Yu-rang.”
The Young Hero of Xi'an answered, his lips trembling. While his sworn brother, who had been so strong, lay sprawled before him, the indifferent voice of someone his own age pierced his ears.
“So Yu-rang of the Exalted Remaining Lands Sect. State how you came to master the Zhongnan Sect's Nine Yang First Form.”
“…If you came alone, you will not escape death. You must not do this. The Unorthodox martial world of Xi'an is incredibly massive, and everyone is on edge due to the interests left behind by the Zhongnan Sect’s destruction. Even if they fight among themselves, they react sensitively to any encroachment by outsiders. The experts of the Unorthodox Factions will unite as one.”
So Yu-rang was a genius of the Unorthodox Factions. He didn't just freeze in fear but sought other means, coming up with a method the stiff-headed members of the Orthodox Factions would never consider.
Conciliation.
Calming his twitching lips, he slowly continued, his voice growing clearer by the moment.
“You… you are making a mistake, friend. Walking the martial world alone is something only absolute masters can do, especially in Xi'an. Even an ordinary peak expert won't last alone here. Even now, it would be safer for you to enter our sect as a guest…”
It wasn't a wrong statement.
Many grandmasters, even after achieving lofty realms, established their own sects in good locations. Few kept only a small number of disciples.
This was because it was difficult to survive alone in a martial world that resembled a vast wilderness. It was also the reason why the Sword Saint, who came from a rogue background, was kept at a distance by the Hanzhong Martial World Alliance despite achieving a supreme realm.
Since the martial world was also a society, the sect one belonged to was valued as much as one's personal martial prowess.
It was then.
“I was watching because it was amusing, but what an insignificant piece of trash…”
The murmur echoed from outside the inn, the languid voice laced with irritation.
Ssssshh—!
A section of the wall began to be carved out in the shape of a human. It was an incredibly powerful explosive force, as if someone was raising sword qi throughout their entire body.
The thick wooden wall, built with Ironfolk influence, shattered in an instant. There was no violent vibration, only a thick cloud of dust.
Suddenly, the smell of alcohol wafted in.
Step.
Someone was walking through the wall.
He wore a silk martial uniform without a speck of dust on it, yet his appearance was worn out. His long, disheveled hair hung loosely.
With dark shadows under his eyes, he looked like a complete ruin of a man.
He slowly smacked his lips, as if his mouth felt empty, a hint of obsession in the gesture. An irritation with no outlet seeped from him.
Lazy Flame Dragon slowly opened his mouth, smirking as he looked at the sprawled Gal Do-jin and So Yu-rang, who was still held in one hand.
“You've had yourself a go as well, Chief.”
“…”
Vroooom—
The aftermath of the energy circulating from his entire body was terrifying. The tableware in the inn rattled. Nearby lanterns clashed against one another.
Even though the ceiling was open in the center, a loud noise echoed briefly, and the seemingly frivolous commotion forced silence upon the surroundings.
The patrons scattered across the ground floor of the inn froze in place, utterly paralyzed by the suffocating pressure that had suddenly descended upon them. Men and women who had just been laughing, drinking, and boasting of their martial exploits now sat as still as stone statues. Cups of cheap liquor stopped halfway to their trembling lips, the amber liquid swaying gently before settling into perfect stillness. The scattered tables, previously the center of rowdy camaraderie and boisterous conversations, became islands of absolute, terrifying silence. No one dared to breathe too loudly. No one dared to shift their weight in their wooden chairs. The overwhelming aura pressing down on the room had snatched the very words from their throats, leaving them with their mouths clamped tightly shut, their eyes wide with an instinctual, primal fear.
Above them, the situation was no different. The martial artists and travelers who had been casually leaning against the sturdy wooden railings of the second floor found themselves equally ensnared by the heavy, oppressive atmosphere. Just moments ago, they had been looking down at the unfolding commotion with casual interest, perhaps even a hint of amusement. Now, their casual postures had gone completely rigid. Fingers that had been loosely resting on the polished wood of the balustrades tightened until their knuckles turned stark white. The creaking of the floorboards ceased entirely as every single person on the upper level stopped their movements. It was as if time itself had been frozen by the sheer magnitude of the martial energy radiating through the open space. The silence was absolute, a heavy blanket that smothered the lively inn and transformed it into a breathless tomb.
This was not just any ordinary city; this was Xi'an. It was a legendary bastion of martial prowess, a heavily fortified world unto itself where the strong ruled and the weak tread carefully. The martial world of Xi'an was renowned for its deep-rooted factions, its impregnable defenses, and the sheer density of powerful experts who walked its ancient, stone-paved streets. It was a place where pride ran deep, where warriors did not easily bow their heads, and where every inn was filled with individuals who possessed enough skill to carve their own names into the annals of the Jianghu. Yet, despite the formidable reputation of the city and the collective strength of the martial artists gathered within this very building, not a single soul dared to challenge the suffocating silence. The heavily fortified martial world of Xi'an, with all its pride and power, had been brought to a sudden, chilling standstill.
The reason for this unnatural, terrifying stillness was simple, yet profound enough to shake the very foundations of the city. A shadow had fallen over the absolute security of this martial stronghold. The invisible barriers of pride and martial might that protected Xi'an had been effortlessly pierced. The tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a blade, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of impending bloodshed and unparalleled dominance. Into this heavily fortified, supposedly impenetrable martial world of Xi'an, a true nightmare had descended.
The Demonlight Wing had entered.