Chapter 253: High-Level (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 253: High-Level (3)
It was a secret chamber, enclosed on all sides by stone walls.
The space was spacious and bright, large enough to accommodate dozens of people. Lanterns lined the high ceiling, illuminating every corner.
"That's some commotion. Hear that? What kind of stomping is that...? Should we go check it out?"
"Forget it. Our job is to hold this position."
Four shadows flickered in time with the lamplight. They were swordsmen clad in green martial robes, standing guard over a young girl sleeping on a bed near an altar. They watched her with unwavering vigilance.
"Maybe I'm just worrying too much. Right. Sticking my nose where it doesn't belong is as good as insubordination."
"It's probably just a bunch of nobodies. Maybe some bandits who came to raid the escort agency."
"They probably fancy themselves the kings of the local mountains, with no idea they've just walked into the Screaming Hell."
The four swordsmen conversed in flat, inflectionless tones.
"I don't think so. Anyone who found the main branch's safehouse can't be insignificant..."
"We have Shaanxi's Number One Demon with us, don't we? As long as the child is here, he hasn't left."
"Hmm, true."
A little relaxation was permissible. They were performing a simple task in a top-secret, heavily fortified sanctuary. Their only job was to guard a child of about six or seven in the deepest underground chamber of the manor.
The walls were so thick that ordinary Qi-sensing was useless. There was no way Lingering Spirit would be defeated by common bandits who stumbled in after seeing the escort agency's sign.
The affairs of a great sect were not so easily disrupted. Just finding this place would take an eternity.
Moreover, an absurdly powerful martial artist like Wi Geuk-sang was holding down the fort as the branch head. Even the leaders of the Seven Great Sects of Xi'an couldn't hope to cross the threshold of this estate.
"I wonder whose bloodline she is. Looking at her face, I'd believe it if someone told me she was a child of the imperial family," a woman in green robes said, glancing at the sleeping Jeong Hye. Though her hand rested casually on her sword hilt, she exuded the sharp, composed presence of a great sect martial artist—the confidence of the strong.
"Isn't she the disciple of that Sword Immortal who died of old age? Her seniority is probably high enough to trample all over the generational hierarchy of Zhongnan."
"They say good breeding always shows. Perhaps she has the blood of the Brightfolk in her veins."
"She's also the flesh and blood of the current Commander of the Demonlight Wing. What do you expect?"
"You mean Flash Art? Even after reading the intelligence reports, I had my doubts he even existed. No matter how vast the world is..."
"People reacted the same way to the Young Sect Leader of the Ming Cult's achievements at first. Just think of her as another one of the martial world's mysteries."
Their quiet voices echoed faintly through the chamber.
It was in the middle of this trivial conversation between the Dharma protectors of Lingering Spirit.
"Uh..."
A soft voice broke the silence. It came from the bed. Jeong Hye's eyes had fluttered open.
She flinched slightly and sat up, the lantern light casting a shadow from her small nose. Her youthful features were delicate yet distinct.
The experts of Lingering Spirit glanced at her, their gazes sweeping over her as if she were a priceless piece of white porcelain.
"You're awake."
"She'll be back asleep in fifteen minutes anyway. How long do we have to play babysitter?"
"They said until her True Qi settles."
She was the disciple brought in by Shaanxi's Number One Demon, Wi Geuk-sang. A grand ritual had just been performed to convert her Zhongnan internal energy into the True Qi of the Heavenly Tomb Demon Seal. They had fed her spirit medicines like the Hundred-Year Fleeceflower Root and painstakingly circulated her internal energy.
Everything had been done with extreme caution to avoid harming the child's body, all for the sake of raising her into a supreme expert of Lingering Spirit.
Their preparations had entered a critical stage. It was considered natural for Jeong Hye to sleep so deeply and frequently, as the Heavenly Tomb Demon Seal was one of the most sublime ultimate techniques in Lingering Spirit's arsenal.
One of the swordsmen asked with a smile, "Time for a bite to eat. Is there anything you're craving?"
"On Mount Zhongnan..." Jeong Hye mumbled, her voice distant. She seemed half-asleep, but the intent behind her small voice was clear.
The Lingering Spirit swordsman turned his head toward the door on the opposite side of the room.
"She wants pan-fried tofu again. She really loves that stuff. I'll tell a servant to prepare it properly."
"I'll go. I can check on the situation outside at the same time."
His tone was casual. A faint wetness welled in Jeong Hye's eyes.
No one paid her any further mind. One of the men simply took a step toward the massive stone door.
CRASH!
It happened in an instant.
With a deafening roar, the stone door blew inward, propelled by a force that defied the laws of physics.
As a monstrous shockwave surged in like a tempest, the man, suddenly faced with a door flying like a cannonball, instinctively struck it with the back of his hand.
Such was the reaction speed of a Thirteen Heavens expert.
"Hup!"
The man’s eyes sharpened as he let out a choked gasp.
In that split second, the accelerating door shattered the trajectory of his hand, crushing it back against his chest. The colorless shockwave that had yet to fully erupt from his palm was snuffed out, its energy rattling uselessly against the stone.
He was thrown backward, all the way to the far wall. The force was irresistible, the sound of tearing air incredibly violent.
BOOM!
He slammed into the stone wall along with the door, his entire body pulverized. His internal power dispersed harmlessly through the cracks. It was an instant death.
At the same time, a worn leather shoe stepped over the threshold.
Step.
The toe of the shoe wobbled slightly, his posture unsteady. Bloodstains spread from the sole.
"Defend!"
"I'll take the front!"
Worthy of Thirteen Heavens martial artists, the remaining swordsmen reacted instantly. Even in the face of the unimaginable, their body protection scriptures flared to life as they moved.
The three formed a triangular battle formation: the Heavenly Tomb Primal Spirit Sword Formation, a secret art of Lingering Spirit.
A hazy current of air swirled around them as they drew their swords. It was a wind mixed with dust.
Whoosh—
Their energies synchronized, the wavelengths of their internal power aligning. A sword formation was a martial science designed to amplify the strength of multiple warriors. The more profound their cultivation, the greater the efficiency of their joint attack.
The Heavenly Tomb Primal Spirit Sword Formation was an ultimate technique that used the combined internal power of fellow disciples to boost speed and sword force to exceptional levels.
Flash!
The three lunged as one. Their movements were on an entirely different level from the swordsman who had just fallen. They drew their blades mid-leap with blinding speed.
A whistling shriek tore through the air as three streaks of sword light shot toward the intruder like beams of light.
Only then was the intruder's appearance fully revealed.
His loose hair seemed to absorb the dim lamplight. His eyes held a hint of loneliness. His face was so beautiful it seemed surreal on such a youthful man. And his entire upper body was drenched in blood.
"Trash," he said.
A powerful wave of energy emanated from his stance as he held a pure white sword. Though the translucent aura of internal power around him wavered unstably, his presence was terrifying.
The lantern flames danced violently as if struck by a gale. The shadows of the charging swordsmen distorted wildly in all directions.
As the three sword strikes of the Heavenly Tomb Primal Spirit Sword Formation sliced through space, the intruder raised his left hand.
The faintly drifting dust warped—the precursor to an attack.
The energy gathering in his palm was unbelievably immense, and the speed of its release was terrifyingly fast. Before the three swords could reach him, an overwhelming shockwave was unleashed from his hand.
'A supreme expert...!'
In that brief instant, the composure of the three swordsmen shattered.
But it was too late. A monstrous tempest erupted across the distance.
Though it seemed to be unleashed haphazardly, without form or technique, the shockwave that engulfed them was a typhoon of invisible blades. The three swords they had thrust forward were violently deflected.
CLANG—!
It was as if Shaolin's Hundred-Step Divine Fist had been unleashed by a drunken madman.
The unrefined shockwave instantly crushed the hazy currents of energy circulating around the swordsmen. His method of dismantling their synchronized power was profoundly masterful. Immediately after, blood sprayed from the bodies of two swordsmen caught in the colorless blast.
"Cough!"
They collapsed, sliding backward with the momentum of their charge, their eyes wide open in death.
The lone survivor on the right skidded to a halt, his face a mask of dismay.
"Commander! The Commander has disappeared again!"
"You Great Tongue Sword bastard! Keep up with him!"
"How am I supposed to keep up with the Wind God Movement Technique? Anyway, he went that way!"
Frantic voices echoed from outside.
The dazed swordsman flinched. Lingering Spirit was an intelligence agency. With just a few clues, they could deduce anything.
The man who had just been talking about pan-fried tofu immediately put the pieces together.
"The Commander of the Demonlight Wing?"
He realized the supernatural entity they had just been joking about was standing right before him. The realization came just as another violent wave of internal energy rushed toward him.
Through the palm force that met him in an instant, the figure of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Flash Art, grew faint as he casually lowered his hand.
'Just how sensitive is his Qi-sensing to have found his way straight here...?'
The swordsman of Lingering Spirit let out a hollow laugh.
He had just crossed blades with a living mystery of the martial world. Should he consider it an honor?
RUMBLE—!
An irresistible shockwave swept over him. Blood, erupting within the translucent wind, occasionally caught the lantern light.
The palm wind, having claimed another life in an instant, dispersed in all directions. The swordsman's body hadn't even hit the ground yet. Then, with a final, heavy thud, silence fell.
Only Jeong Hye had the right to break it.
"Ah...?"
A blank exclamation escaped her parted lips.
Despite her young age, she had been revered as the disciple of the Zhongnan Sword Immortal. She had consumed all manner of spirit herbs and been taught the deepest Taoist scriptures. Her natural comprehension had been keenly refined, and after being caught in the web cast by Lingering Spirit and the Hegemon Sword Sect, she had even gained some insight into the workings of great sects.
Scary people.
That was why the scene before her felt like a dream. Her uncle had always been a faint, unassuming presence back home, but now he seemed to be the most distinct person in the entire world. Was this real?
"Hye-ah."
His low voice was pleasant to the ear, much deeper than she remembered.
Jeong Hye's expression, which had been fearful that this was all a dream, brightened into a tearful smile.
"Uncle...!"
"It really is you, Hye-ah."
Only then did Jeong Yeon-shin allow his body to relax.
The pain-numbing effects of his adrenaline were wearing off, and his body was barely functioning. He'd had no choice but to use the Air-Hitting Palm, the technique he'd tried during Heonwon Chang's Blue Rank promotion test. He had thought of it as a degraded version of the Hundred-Step Divine Fist, but by a stroke of luck, his enemies' skills were so pathetic that it had worked perfectly.
'Glad they were the kind of bastards who could still eat with skills that pathetic.'
Relieved, he knelt on one knee.
"Uncle—!"
Running on her short legs, Jeong Hye threw herself into his embrace.
Wrapping one arm around his niece's back, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's lips curved into a faint arc.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought: Mother, I have protected our family's blood.
"It's okay," he said, his voice meant to reassure her. "You'll be fine now."
His words grew fainter toward the end.
His eyelids felt heavy. He stroked his niece's small back and closed his eyes.
He could sense three presences leaping toward him from behind, moving as if on air. A sharp yet refined wind, an energy deep and warm as an abyss, and a set of cheerful yet silent footsteps. It was the Demonlight First Team: Cheong-myeong, Baek Mi-ryeo, and Heonwon Chang.
"Your uncle is a bit sleepy..." he whispered softly in Jeong Hye's ear.
He wasn't afraid of losing consciousness. He was only worried about his niece.
"Don't be startled."
And then, Jeong Yeon-shin's world went dark.
* * *
The scene was gradually being brought under control.
The Sect Leader of the Mount Hua Sect stood quietly with her hands clasped behind her back.
"..."
Saint Flower Sword God Yul-ha. Lady Yul-ha.
The hem of her long pink robe fluttered over her white-socked feet. Though her attire seemed ill-suited for the rough, dirt-packed ground, she looked perfectly natural. The title Nang-rang (Lady) was not one used lightly; it was a term reserved for Taoist deities.
"This is cargo from the Double Yang Merchant Group."
"Move it over there. The government army will handle it."
"Use your body protection scriptures! Move faster!"
The presence of a peerless expert was transcendent. By doing nothing, she made everything possible.
The surviving enemies had either committed suicide or surrendered, now working as laborers. Their will to fight had been shattered by the battle between the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and Shaanxi's Number One Demon. Under the watchful eyes of the Desolate Fortress martial artists, they scurried about. The Shaanxi branch of Lingering Spirit, disguised as an escort agency, had been dismantled in an instant.
"He got himself involved with the Sword Ghost of the Deep Martial Alliance," Lady Yul-ha murmured, slowly clenching and unclenching a hand that had briefly held Dharma power. "I thought he was going to live and die a scoundrel, but he puts this poor Taoist to shame."
She stood to one side, where the martial artists of the Demonlight Wing had formed a protective circle. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing lay on a sleeping bag padded with dozens of layers of bedding. She scanned Flash Art's face with an intrigued gaze, as if admiring the world's finest delicacy.
"He is more beautiful than any sword path. If I were to share a table with this child, even fasting pills would go down smoothly. I wouldn't even choke."
"Master, please, your dignity..." muttered the young Taoist looking down at Jeong Yeon-shin with worry. It was Taoist Yu-hyeon, the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua.
The Demonlight Wing experts yielded space but did not engage them in conversation. The disciples of the Desolate Fortress were known for their unapproachable temperament. They focused all their attention on their Commander, their voices low.
"His internal injuries are immense. We can't move him from here. We have to worry about Qi deviation."
"I don't know how he was even moving. I can't understand how he displayed such divine might with a body like this. It's driving me mad."
"Mmm..."
"...Someone dug a grave next to that Hwangbo scoundrel."
"Let it be. Wait until he wakes up. He needs to know his sins before he goes."
"Didn't they say the Hegemon Sword Sect and the Blood Flame Cult are on the move? Our first priority has to be getting out of here. What do we do...?"
It was a heavy conversation, one that continued until Lady Yul-ha suddenly spoke.
"It seems right for someone skilled in lightfoot techniques to take charge of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. As you've guessed, his internal injuries are severe. He will need a long period of recuperation just to regain consciousness, so you should take refuge in a safehouse. The sword-idiots and blood-fiends disturbing Shaanxi have always been the responsibility of our sect and Zhongnan, anyway."
An absolute authority was infused in her clear voice. The words of the Mount Hua Sect Leader carried immense weight.
The experts surrounding the sleeping bag silently looked down at Jeong Yeon-shin. His skin seemed to absorb the sunlight, glowing exceptionally bright. His high-bridged nose, sharp as a warrior's spirit, and his elegant eyelashes, which cast long shadows, silenced the onlookers.
It was then.
Suddenly.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing's eyelids lifted as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Pitch-black pupils were revealed, flashing with the power of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
"..."
His dark eyes took in the dozens of gazes fixed upon him.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.
"...What."
A slightly cracked voice drifted out.