Chapter 241: Awakening (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 241: Awakening (5)
"..."
Wind swept over the cliff, rustling through the sprawling shrubbery.
The sound of the breeze brushing against the scattered rocks seemed exceptionally loud. It meant the crowd had fallen completely silent. They had no choice.
The leaders of the Heterodox factions were dead.
The firmly established order of the great city had been shattered in an instant. It was an event that would evoke a strange, complex mix of emotions in anyone from Xi'an.
Countless people had gathered atop the canyon peaks.
Men and women in silk robes sat casually beneath the shrubbery, perched in trees, or rested solemnly within palanquins...
A sprawling, diverse crowd stretched out along the ridges.
Soon, the whispers of those breaking the silence swelled, matching the sheer size of the crowd.
"What kind of hidden master has emerged to display such sublime martial arts...?"
"A master? Look at his face. He's ridiculously young."
"Who on earth is he...?"
"Go and find out the identity of that group of light swords. If they settle in Xi'an, we must not overlook them. Treat them as a force comparable to the elites of the Nine Sects or the Thirteen Heavens. Investigate them with the utmost care."
"Will that be enough? The order of Xi'an is going to change."
"I know. Hmm, the Northern Light Inn that the Lord of the Exalted Remaining Lands Sect used will be vacant now. Let's use that place. You send word to him... No. This old man will go in person."
The crowd sprang into action. Carrier pigeons burst from the shrubbery, flapping their wings as they scattered in every direction.
Their reactions were incredibly swift. Many departed immediately, kicking up clouds of dust with their lightness skills.
Amidst the commotion, standing beneath the brown pine needles, the Cloud Sword Dragon, Wiji Myo-hwa, looked down at Jeong Yeon-shin.
Her posture stood out from the other martial artists.
She gripped her sword tightly, as if ready to leap down at any moment, a blue, semi-transparent veil obscuring her face. Even so, she could not hide the elegant temperament of a disciple from a prestigious sect.
The striking presence of such an extraordinary swordsman was bound to attract attention.
Not to mention her beautiful jawline, her physique and aura were on an entirely different level. Many around her stole glances, but she paid them no mind.
Young Hero Flash Art...
No, he was in a position where it was hard to call him "Young Hero" anymore. Who would dare address the 17th Unit Commander of the Divine Sword Corps so casually? Even relying on their past friendship, "Young Master" would be the limit.
A soft sorrow welled up in Wiji Myo-hwa's eyes.
She had roamed the Jianghu with that boy in blue robes, the same one who had struck the Hwangbo Branch Family. It was a fond memory, and the nostalgia it brought was sweet.
In those days, righteousness had been everything to her. She had her Zhongnan martial brothers to support her, and her master and grand-uncle had still been alive and well.
At first, she had investigated the Sword Sect's Nine Yang First Form alongside Jeong Yeon-shin. Her grand-uncle, the Sword Immortal, had been with them too.
I fell into a heart demon.
She had fallen into despair upon seeing the boy effortlessly execute the Radiant Brilliance Sword Style. It happened right after she realized that her talent, which she had proudly believed to be the best under heaven, was actually insignificant.
But it was fine. She had escaped the heart demon thanks to the words of her grand-uncle, who had seen through Jeong Yeon-shin's lifespan. It hadn't been a base sense of relief, but rather a feeling that had evolved into genuine compassion.
All those memories were tied to the Zhongnan Sect.
The green hills, the opposite cliff engraved with sword marks, the boy dancing with his sword amidst the light, Wiji Myo-hwa staring blankly at him, the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan laughing heartily... Mount Zhongnan, and the scent of grass lingering in those memories.
It was strange how the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress made the eldest disciple of Zhongnan yearn for her sect. It was a testament to their deep connection.
Gratitude pierced her heart, swelling alongside her emotions.
She bit her lower lip without realizing it.
I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...
She had failed to protect Jeong Hye. She had lost her when they encountered the net of heaven and earth cast by two experts from the Thirteen Heavens. She couldn't find her anywhere.
Even though she had searched frantically alongside Sword Saint Baek Seo-gun, they were still wandering in circles. All traces of the girl had vanished completely.
It was despairing.
In the midst of this, she had come here after hearing a rumor that the leaders of the Seven Great Sects of Xi'an were fighting someone.
She had never imagined it would be Jeong Yeon-shin. She hadn't even dreamed of it. And yet, she still hadn't found Jeong Hye.
"It seems you have a lot to say. I've set up an energy barrier. Speak freely," said the swordsman standing beside her, wearing a bamboo hat and staring intently down into the canyon.
Beneath the loose chin strap, short gray hair fell haphazardly. It was Baek Seo-gun, the Heaven-Swimming Sword Ghost.
She was also drawing attention alongside Wiji Myo-hwa.
Although the tips of her strange, half-white hair were exposed, no one dared to speak of the Sword Saint of the Deep Martial Alliance.
It was because she lived in a completely different world. A supernatural being of another realm—that was how the second-in-command of a great sect of the Thirteen Heavens was perceived.
She simply drew attention with an extraordinary aura no less potent than Wiji Myo-hwa's.
With her glossy silk sleeves draping loosely and her back elegantly straightened, she exuded an air of absolute nobility.
Her mouth, curved downward as if she treated everything with indifference, was directed toward the young master down in the canyon.
"That combat sense of his is truly a treasure. It's worthy of leaving a mark in the history of the martial world," Baek Seo-gun said, parting her lips. "They say he inherited the blood of the Hegemon Hero, but we should really see it as the fruit of that bastard Jeong Pan-ak's face. Thanks to that petty fellow's looks being out of this world... such a child was born. It's a feast for the eyes. Especially after having to look at the likes of our Alliance's Eldest Son."
"I cannot go down."
At Wiji Myo-hwa's murmur, Baek Seo-gun chuckled.
"Is it because of your petty guilt? How weak of you. And arrogant, too. You seem to think that someone like you could have broken the net of heaven and earth cast by two experts from the Thirteen Heavens, but that is absurd self-blame. With that good child's personality, he would probably comfort you instead."
"...But aren't you also hesitating to take a step, Senior Sword Saint? You said you had a connection with Young Master Jeong..."
"..."
Baek Seo-gun fell silent.
—You have received plenty of love that I couldn't give you. Seeing how healthy your complexion is.
It was her own voice. A thoughtless voice that sliced through her mind, which until recently had been filled only with the sword.
The words she had babbled to Jeong Pan-ak's son, feeling so proud of herself at the time, now jumbled in her head.
She didn't care about the inner conflict of the Zhongnan Sect kid.
She had come to harbor a regret and shame she had never felt before. The misunderstanding she had held onto all along was utterly absurd.
He's grown a bit leaner. His physique has become sturdier in the meantime. He changes by the day.
Flash Art Jeong Yeon-shin.
Even as she looked down at the face she had so wished to see again, she couldn't easily take a step forward. Even though she was the second-greatest sword ghost in the Deep Martial Alliance, she hesitated.
Although it was a distance she could cross in a single step with her Body Protection Scripture, her heart wavered between being the maidservant who might have become the boy's nanny, and the Sword Saint who had shaken Henan Province.
She hadn't worried about the leaders of the Seven Great Sects in the first place. No matter how strong they were, they were just underlings of the Thirteen Heavens.
They lacked the class to break the precious sword of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress. That was the Sword Saint's perspective.
"He is a child..." She slowly parted her lips. "...who might cause a massive incident. A Unit Commander of the Desolate Fortress is, after all, a rank that discusses the affairs of the world. All the bastards of the 17th Unit were like that. Flash Art will be no different. This seat will be able to help him in the near future. We can meet then."
The maidservant carrying the precious sword spoke elegantly.
She was the epitome of contradiction, disguising her inner turmoil with plausible excuses.
Her slightly raised chin looked quite haughty, even though her true feelings were completely different.
Wiji Myo-hwa did not point it out. It was not her place to care.
—He does not have many days left to live.
Those were the words of the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan upon seeing Jeong Yeon-shin.
Wiji Myo-hwa knew the remaining lifespan of the boy she was so fond of. Flash Art, Commander of the Demonlight Wing. In the midst of burning his short life intensely, one of his few remaining blood relatives had been kidnapped.
It was a thought that only fueled her guilt.
The Sword Dragon of the Zhongnan Sect repeatedly parted her lips in a silent murmur.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...
Soon, Wiji Myo-hwa's direct gaze began to sharpen with a certain resolve.
At the same time, her fingers, which slowly traced the hilt of the sword at her waist, drew a strange line. It was a movement of recalling something.
* * *
"Oh my, our Chief has cleaned them all up. They were quite fierce bastards, too. Even if they were just leaders of the Unorthodox Factions."
The Lazy Flame Dragon approached, his lips curling up into a smirk. He was accompanied by the seniors of the Demonlight Wing.
On the flat ground below the canyon, scattered corpses and dark, seeping blood filled the view. Yet, thanks to the Lazy Flame Dragon's lighthearted banter, the heavy stench of blood seemed to fade slightly.
In this bleak scene, only the experts of the Demonlight Wing possessed any vitality. Heonwon Chang, Shin So-bin, and Jegal Cheong-a, though looking somewhat exhausted, had clear complexions.
As expected of the descendants of prestigious families, their faces even retained a healthy glow.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the Lazy Flame Dragon and shook his head.
When did that poppy addict master the Vast Art Formula?
The genius of the Solar Divine Pulse, destined for a short life, had mastered the Vast Art Formula incredibly fast. As if there were no obstacles at all, he hadn't even asked a single question.
He had simply shaken his hands a few times with interest, as if tasting a new delicacy, and nodded slightly, saying it was indeed worth coming.
"I'm a bit greedy for that. It looked fun."
The Lazy Flame Dragon gestured toward the Commander's hand.
"Clean up the mess."
Jeong Yeon-shin turned his body slightly, shutting down the request as if there was zero chance of it happening.
He was in the middle of retrieving the strands of the Thread Sword into his pitch-black sleeves.
The cuffs of his sleeves fluttered continuously, driven by the mnemonic of the Myriad Blossoms Rain: Absorption Technique. The paper-thin strands of the Thread Sword glowed faintly as they were drawn back in.
The Lazy Flame Dragon smacked his lips.
"If you look closely, you're greedier than this Young Master."
"Nonsense from someone so dull. I told you not to covet treasures you cannot handle," Jeong Yeon-shin replied casually while glancing at his subordinates.
Feigning an indifferent gaze, he scanned the experts of the Demonlight Wing from left to right. He hoped none of his comrades were injured, and fortunately, the Vast Art Formula seemed to have proven its utility.
He could only see the exhaustion of internal power in some of the warriors catching their breath.
Just as he was feeling relieved, his eyes met those of Cheong-myeong, Baek Mi-ryeo, Heonwon Chang, and of course, Shin So-bin.
They were staring at the palms of their Commander, who had wielded the Thread Sword bare-handed. The blood on his skin was already drying.
How fussy...
Jeong Yeon-shin turned around, walking with a deliberately calm stride.
There are many martial arts techniques I can perform in combination. It'll be fun, too.
He deliberately cracked his neck slightly. It had been a decent harvest. He had intentionally held back his attacks so that the opposing leaders could unleash their full power.
In reality, the clash had only lasted a few breaths, but holding back his hands was harder than he thought.
Still, it was fine.
He had filled a few more pages of the Compendium of Demon Extermination. These were the martial arts of the leaders who ruled the vast land of Xi'an.
It had been worth taking on a life-and-death duel between leaders. The same could be said for the crowd up in the canyon, who had been dead silent before finally starting to chatter among themselves.
The thousand-year-old capital.
The great city of Xi'an had officially fallen into the hands of the Vast Art Stronghold. At this moment, everyone present would have to acknowledge it.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.
"Kang the Decapitator, go with the Divine Cat and inspect the government branch. Not a single report was sent up while Xi'an reached this state. Find out thoroughly whether it was due to unavoidable circumstances or if they were in league with the enemy. If it's the latter, execute them on the spot."
As he finished speaking, he adjusted his long, flowing black sleeves.
Although the material was different from the standard robes of the Desolate Fortress, it felt quite comfortable against his skin. It was to the point where he thought he would have worn clothes like this normally if he hadn't entered the main fortress.
"Yes, Chief."
The giant swordsman cupped his hands.
He was Kang Chang-mu, a Blue-Ranked Expert who had come from the Forest-Treading Unit. Since his alias was the Decapitating Sword, he was casually called Kang the Decapitator. It was the same logic as calling the White Cat, Shin So-bin, the Divine Cat.
Shin So-bin didn't seem to like the casually given nickname.
She glared at Jeong Yeon-shin with her round eyes, but when their gazes met, she smirked. She remained bold even after committing slaughter. She was indeed a child of a prestigious family from the main fortress.
"One guy is left," Heonwon Chang said with an unusually indifferent expression.
Blood smeared across his hand as he wiped down his blade, as if washing away the accumulated killing intent. It was a familiar sight to his comrades.
The gazes of the Demonlight Wing experts—about thirty of them in total—locked onto the solitary man standing nearby. It was Jang Gi-il, Lord of the Burnt-White Sect.
His sturdy physique was clad in yellow robes. He stared blankly at the corpse of the Lord of the Exalted Remaining Lands Sect slumped beside a tree trunk, then slowly turned his head toward the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
—Let the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress punish the rabble.
He was the only leader who had survived after hearing that command.
Jeong Yeon-shin had deliberately excluded him from the range of his techniques, and Jang Gi-il, in turn, had not joined the joint attack against him.
"You said you betrayed the main sect as a Zhongnan lay disciple. Show this Chief your worth," the Commander of the Demonlight Wing said.
"...Jeong Jung-san of Xinye County."
Jang Gi-il, who had been staring blankly at the young master, finally parted his lips.
Xi'an was where the main sect of Zhongnan was located. That meant everyone here knew of the connection between the powerful rookie of the Desolate Fortress and the Zhongnan disciples.
"I know where that friend is."
* * *
The outskirts of Xi'an were a complex labyrinth.
It was a byproduct of the city's deep history. Over vast stretches of time, it had served as the capital for countless nations.
Many martial sects had also sprouted in and around the city center. Naturally, all kinds of tangled paths and alleys had been created over the centuries, turning the layout into a messy sprawl.
In one such alley, cold shadows clung to both sides.
The winter wind blowing in from the outside brushed against the old walls.
While the bleak air swept over the long cracks spreading along the brickwork, the noisy clamor of the city center drifted in faintly from afar.
But that distant noise was crushed, drowned out by the heavy, echoing sounds of vicious kicking.
Thud—!
"I finally caught this retard...!"
"Look at him blocking! Where did you leave your starting stance? You noble swordsman of the lofty Mount Zhongnan!"
"Is this guy really someone who learned from the Nine Sects? Seriously?"
There were two men and one woman.
All of them wore the same gray martial uniforms. The three of them surrounded a single person on the ground, their unwrinkled, youthful faces twisted into sneers as they relentlessly kicked him.
Thud! Thud!
The man curled up on the ground was being beaten to a pulp. Heavy, blunt sounds of impact echoed sharply through his yellow robes.
It was a day where Jeong Jung-san found himself thoroughly cornered.
After parting ways with the terrifying Baek Seo-gun, he had been poking around alone, desperately trying to find out Jeong Hye's whereabouts.
Jeong Jung-san was a warrior who had mastered lightness skills. Although he wouldn't dare touch the main sects of the Thirteen Heavens, he had hoped to uncover clues by using hit-and-run tactics against the unorthodox sects under their umbrella.
He also had some confidence in the Great Unity Formless Sword he had learned.
It was all in vain.
The result was like this every time. Thanks to having consumed a few Life-Saving Herbs, he hadn't ended up caught and killed yet.
He merely dragged his exhausted body through the back alleys, struggling to fulfill his duty—as Jeong Hye's uncle, and as a disciple of the Zhongnan Sect.
"Is that mouth that used to lecture me frozen shut? You babbled so proudly when Zhongnan was doing fine!"
"The brother of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress? Bring your brother here, you sectless bastard."
"Even if he did, how could that guy handle the Ghost Soul Divine Sword? Just a worthless piece of trash relying on his backing."
The disciples of the Exalted Remaining Lands Sect who had remained in the main sect were thoroughly enjoying themselves. It was natural. How could they not be joyful? The Zhongnan Sect had been destroyed, and their era had finally arrived.
It's karma.
Jeong Jung-san laughed at himself bitterly. Call his brother Jeong Yeon-shin?
This pathetic situation was a perfect reflection of Jeong Jung-san's past.
In his immature days, he had acted as the alley leader, bossing around his peers in Xinye County. That was when he used to take out his spite on his "ominous" younger brother.
After rejecting the Jeong Family Dynamic Art offered by those small hands, he had once ordered the other kids to bully Yeon-shin, mocking him to see if his body was really that tough.
Even looking back on it now, it was extremely malicious.
With what face could I ever call for him!
Thud—!
"Keuhuk!"
Struck hard in the solar plexus, Jeong Jung-san gasped for air.
Just when he thought it was about time to use another Life-Saving Herb...
Suddenly.
Above the heads of his attackers.
Whoosh!
A pitch-black shadow fell like an untimely bolt of lightning in the night. It was a true descent. The dust of the alley soared in all directions, as if welcoming the arrival of this unfamiliar entity.
It almost looked like a dragon's ascent in reverse. In an instant, an unbelievably suffocating pressure spread in all directions, creating a scene that seemed to draw in all the wind under heaven.
Boom—!
The figure who broke in with an overwhelming presence ruthlessly kicked Jeong Jung-san in the abdomen. A violent shockwave erupted instantly.
Jeong Jung-san, his breath completely choked out of his lungs, was sent flying backward like a leaf struck by a gale. It was an immense display of leg strength.
A clean, solid hit.
As the suddenly manifested Commander of the Demonlight Wing flashed his cold eyes, the hem of his pitch-black robes fluttered wildly behind him.
"Frustrating."
Rustle.
Stepping onto the dusty ground, he muttered the single word sharply.