Chapter 257: High-Level (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 257: High-Level (7)
The Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak was said to be a state where one's control over internal energy reached the absolute pinnacle.
That was the true meaning of the Unity of Essence, Qi, and Spirit. Internal energy keeping pace with the speed of thought. It was a realm that had plunged Jeong Yeon-shin—who had to survive in a world of Super-Ascension—into deep contemplation.
'Those otherwise slow-witted people are strangely fast.'
There was a limit to calculating the rapid strikes of peak experts in advance. He had realized this bitterly when he nearly died at the hands of the Ghost Soul Divine Sword and Shaanxi's Number One Demon.
Without variables like Baek Seo-gun's Sword Control or conflicting internal energies, he faced a high probability of defeat. The martial arts these experts had accumulated over the years were simply that profound.
Maintaining Brilliant River during battle was the primary solution Jeong Yeon-shin had devised.
It was a technique that clashed conflicting True Qis using the principles of a formation to generate lightning. The Azure Qilin had named it.
Constant maintenance was the first step. If he kept an explosive palm force wrapped around his hands at all times, he wouldn't have to worry about the casting speed of his finishing blow. His combat responsiveness would skyrocket.
He had trained specifically for this.
He altered the properties of the Shaofu, Laogong, and Zhongzi acupoints in his palms. Through the Jeong Family Dynamic Art, he enhanced the elasticity of those acupoints and his finer meridians. The power of repetition was immense.
What he had initially doubted would ever work became a reality after a month of grueling effort.
The only drawback was the physical strain, which compounded the longer a battle dragged on. But for Jeong Yeon-shin, who favored short, decisive clashes, it was a reasonable price to pay.
It also allowed him to drastically suppress any loud surges of energy, making it perfectly suited for surprise attacks.
'How foolish of me. There was a reason everyone else did the same thing.'
There wasn't a single wrong word in the Four Books and Three Classics that the Divine Hero of the Desolate Fortress spoke of so often. Jeong Yeon-shin reflected on this anew.
Indeed, one must remain humble. Just like the mindset he had maintained so perfectly until now.
"……"
A single strike had brought about a profound silence.
The stillness rippled in all directions. The scattered patches of snow gleamed exceptionally white.
A silent, biting winter wind brushed past the blades of grass and swept outward, instantly reaching beyond the hill where the battle was raging.
Standing awkwardly behind Jeong Yeon-shin, Jang Sun-il let out a sharp, nervous breath.
The young man who had just thrown the spear looked as if he couldn't believe his own eyes.
Soon, his right hand went limp, a look of utter bewilderment washing over his face. His combative aura vanished without a trace.
He struggled to open his mouth.
"The encirclement on this side... is the tightest."
"What?"
"You must not... come this way."
He answered toward his rear, as if talking to himself. Even as he let out a groan-like voice, he couldn't bring himself to meet Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes.
Now that the neighboring mountain range had turned into a massive battlefield, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress was a terrifying variable. This held true for anyone on Mount Taibai. To those who did not know Jeong Yeon-shin's identity, his sudden presence would be nothing short of a walking disaster.
The young spearman felt a profound sense of incomprehension as he stared at the black-robed boy standing with his hands casually clasped behind his back.
He simply couldn't fathom that single palm strike at all. His voice trembled involuntarily.
"You mustn't... you mustn't come here...!"
"What do you mean by that?! Every second counts! We'll be wiped out at this rate!"
An angry voice rapidly drew closer. It seemed to belong to a senior figure of the spear-wielding sect.
At the same time, a woman's laughter echoed from afar.
Words mocking them as insignificant bugs, sneering at worthless trash daring to speak to her, drifted wickedly on the clear wind.
The surging energy even carried the thick, metallic scent of blood.
'Unorthodox factions fighting Unorthodox factions.'
Jeong Yeon-shin turned around quietly, his entire aura sharply suppressed.
Jang Sun-il, who had been standing with his mouth slightly agape, flinched.
"Let's go."
"Uh, yes, yes! Is your hand okay?"
"It's just a bit cool."
His traveling companion was just a mountain boy. Since they were of a similar age and the boy wasn't a martial artist, Jeong Yeon-shin's tone naturally grew casual.
It was similar to how he treated Yu-hyeon, which felt much more comfortable than spitting cold words at the hardened people of the Jianghu.
"Let's go. It'll get annoying if we stay here."
"Huh? Uh, wait—"
He grabbed Jang Sun-il by the waist and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
This was possible because his shoulders had broadened slightly along with the growth of his limbs.
A sudden wave of pride washed over him. He even felt a brief moment of generosity toward his colleagues who used to tease him about his frail, chopstick-like limbs and narrow combat intervals.
He glanced back at the young spearman.
"You."
"Mmh..."
The now-disarmed spearman flinched. Even if it had been out of panic, he had thrown a lethal strike upon their very first meeting. It was easy to guess what kind of life he had led.
He would have no right to complain even if he faced a retaliatory strike. Perhaps he would meet his end at the hands of the Seventh Apostle, who was spectacularly unleashing surges of the Mara Blood-Roaring Art in the distance.
Jeong Yeon-shin parted his lips.
"If you come this way, you die."
"……!"
Turning his head, Jeong Yeon-shin took a step.
'Wind God Movement Technique.'
Whoosh!
A wave of wind exploded from the Yongquan points on the soles of his feet. The moment he kicked off the ground, the chaotic noises behind him blurred together and rapidly receded into the distance.
Had they only just noticed the anomaly here? A sinister surge of energy fluctuated belatedly in his wake.
*
It was a bright, sunny noon.
It was called Mount Taibai because it wore white clothes throughout all four seasons.
Not a single peak of the neighboring Qinling Mountains was left uncovered by perpetual snow. It was a sacred place, renowned enough that legendary poets and calligraphers like Du Fu and Li Bai had visited to leave their verses. The connected peak next to Seven Maidens Peak was no exception.
Thud.
A palanquin was set down on the white summit.
Inside sat a handsome, scholarly-looking man with narrowed eyes. Beside him, a taciturn swordswoman looked down at him quietly.
"Is there truly a need to go to such trouble?" she asked.
"He is someone who must absolutely be killed. There is no bud more dangerous than him in the current Jianghu."
The man replied, the corners of his red lips curling upward. He was rolling a long box between his fingers. A clean, refreshing scent of medicinal herbs drifted faintly from it.
"Hmm."
"His growth rate makes absolutely no sense. Everyone who deals in information must be thinking the same thing. It's just that because the world is so vast, the importance and accuracy of rumors vary wildly."
The man's tone was peculiar. It carried a certain melody, almost like a song. The elegance embedded in his voice was bizarrely captivating.
The swordswoman glanced at the wooden box in his hand.
'The Thousand-Year Fleeceflower Root...'
She spoke again.
"Even if the Flash Art's martial prowess is outstanding... has it not been barely a year since he rose to prominence? Wouldn't it be better to focus on the Young Sect Leader of the Ming Cult instead? I heard that our spies in Xinjiang were discovered and slaughtered en masse."
The man smiled languidly.
"You must not have seen the final urgent report sent by those spies. They said the Heaven-Aligned Wing of the Desolate Fortress was annihilated. Ha Do-un, Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing, reportedly died a most miserable death. Regardless of the means used, how could one consider someone who achieved such a feat to be a mere 'bud'?"
"The Heaven-Aligned Wing...! How could a toothless Ming Cult manage that?"
"They say he is well-versed in sorcery, so perhaps he raised his realm early. I heard the system of his sorcery martial arts is highly peculiar. In any case, since we are in Shaanxi, let us return to the main topic. The Flash Art."
Tucking the box into his robes, the man continued.
"He was already a target of observation for the Blood Flame Cult. Upon deeper investigation, it is said he possesses Dharma power martial arts. It seems to be a sect-exclusive martial art, given that no warrior of the Desolate Fortress has ever displayed it before. He is truly an astounding martial genius. From Sichuan Province to the Martial World Alliance, and finally here to Shaanxi... I cannot count how many times I have combed through his files."
"Contacting the Hegemon Sword Sect was a wise move. But was there a need to inform the Blood Flame Cult? I heard that since the Blood Flame Cult Leader went into seclusion, the cult has split into numerous factions. The current Blood Ghosts are out of control, are they not?"
"I heard it was the Second Apostle who rebelled. The First Apostle is reportedly taking the lead in cleaning things up. But even if the cult's power is in disarray, crushing a single rookie Black Rank should pose no problem."
Speaking as if in a monologue, the Young Lord of Lingering Spirit lightly scratched the armrest with his fingertips. His movements were as delicate as his wit and schemes.
He parted his lips again.
"The rumor that the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect is coming in person is not entirely groundless. It is said he is furious. But then, how could he not be? He lost his wet nurse to a mere junior."
"It was a good move to make the Flash Art's nephew suffer like that. It seems Shaanxi's Number One Demon, Wi Geuk-sang, followed your orders well. But would a Unit Commander of the Desolate Fortress really come all this way just because you spread rumors of the Fleeceflower Root? Though, the moment he sets foot on Mount Taibai, he is as good as half-dead..."
"Did we not leave a single root behind on purpose? The Commander of the Demonlight Wing will surely come."
The Young Lord continued.
"Having combed through his tracks so many times, I almost feel like we are friends. I know he is not the type of person to turn his back on his own blood. The only thing we must worry about... is that mysterious 'High-Level' characteristic of the Strange, Violent, Chaotic, and Supernatural."
"The Mount Taibai you have prepared, Young Lord, is a living hell. Do not worry."
The swordswoman spoke slowly. Her words were imbued with the wisdom of a seasoned veteran of the Jianghu.
*
Night fell.
The darkness deep in the mountains was exceptionally thick.
As if it had always been this way, the quiet mountain absorbed even the sporadic clashing of metal, dyeing the eyes of the two boys pitch black.
Perhaps because the mnemonic Jeong Yeon-shin recited every night belonged to the Jeong Family Dynamic Art, the unbroken silence felt like a mother's embrace.
Crack. Crackle.
The Samadhi True Fire rising from his hand lit the campfire.
Jang Sun-il did not try to stop him. He had just witnessed his companion's martial prowess.
He was clearly a rare powerhouse, even on the chaotic Mount Taibai. To most high-ranking martial artists, he would be seen as a grim reaper.
"……"
They sat facing each other across the campfire.
Jang Sun-il, who had kept his head lowered for a while, looked up.
"May I ask you something?"
"Speak."
"Why are you trying to get the Thousand-Year Fleeceflower Root? I heard that if you consume it and circulate your energy properly, you gain immense internal power. But you're already strong enough. I've never even heard of the kind of skills you have. They were truly terrifying."
"My nephew is sick."
"Ah..."
The quick-witted mountain boy's mouth parted slightly. His face showed he had not expected such an answer.
"What about you? Why are you trying to eat dirt?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked quietly.
"My family was wiped out by those Unorthodox bastards. When I came home, there were only corpses."
"……"
Jang Sun-il spoke calmly.
"It's common these days. They aren't even government soldiers, but they come to collect tribute, and when there's no food, they point their swords at innocent people. We were just scapegoats for their anger during the famine. I'm going to find them and get my revenge. If it's the soil where the Thousand-Year Fleeceflower Root grew, it should contain a decent amount of energy for me."
His tone was detached, as if he were telling someone else's story.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing quietly observed Jang Sun-il.
"Do you know which sect they belong to?"
"I don't know. Whether they're wandering bastards begging like rogue mercenaries, or sons of bitches from some prestigious family who actually learned how to use a sword. Since they're my sworn enemies, I'll run into them eventually as long as I live. I have to," the boy muttered.
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly thought of the Blood Flame Cult and the Hegemon Sword Sect.
'I heard the Blood Flame Cult has been rampant.'
He wasn't curious about why the Seventh Apostle was here.
He just didn't know how to treat her after receiving her favor. That was his only concern. It was said that the favors and grudges of the Jianghu swirled opaquely, like the raging currents of the Yangtze River.
Only now, after becoming deeply entangled with someone who embodied both favor and grudge, did he truly understand.
'...If not for her, I would have died in the City of Master Craftsmen. Along with everyone else.'
The benefactor of his uncle, the Radiant Wing Unit, and the Demonlight Wing was an evil person. What was he supposed to do?
It was then.
"Using fire, are we?"
"They must be quite confident."
The voices of a man and a woman echoed from the darkness beyond the campfire.
Step. Step.
Unhesitating footsteps followed.
The outlines of two people walking together came into view. It was as if they were pushing aside the soft glow of the campfire as they stepped forward.
Their pure white martial robes stood out in stark contrast to the night air. It was a highly mystical color.
Soon, their faces were revealed.
They were twins. The brother and sister looked identical.
They had long, flowing blue-white hair that clearly thrummed with internal energy, and their exceptionally sharp-featured faces exuded an authoritative elegance.
Their somewhat exotic features were remarkably striking.
"Oh."
An exclamation escaped the woman's lips the moment her eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin's.
"To think I'd feast my eyes on such a sight here. You are practically the reincarnation of Ban-ak of the Jin Dynasty. Though I doubt my brother would know who that is."
"I have studied too, so I know. Stop pretending you're the only one well-versed in the history and affairs of this land. In any case, wouldn't it be better to look for a fruit cart rather than a spirit herb? With a face like that, anyone would throw food at you."
The twin brother had referenced the anecdote of Ban-ak.
His tone was flat. It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or sincere.
"Are you good with a sword?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
The blue-white-haired man parted his lips indifferently.
"Fist and palm techniques are my specialty. More importantly, may we share your campfire? Our internal energy cannot light a fire, and we have lost our servants... though we have no intention of forcing our way."
"We are different from the Jianghu people of this region. We value etiquette and reason over the law of the jungle. If you refuse, we will leave," the woman said, the corners of her mouth curling slightly.
Jeong Yeon-shin blinked. He hadn't expected to encounter such behavior on a battlefield.
"My older sister is Bukgung Rin, and I am Bukgung Hu. We come from the place you call the Ice Palace. Shall we exchange names?" Bukgung Hu asked, standing entirely still.
Jeong Yeon-shin stared at their faces in silence.
They said they would leave if refused, but they clearly didn't think they would actually be rejected. The sheer confidence embedded in their demeanor said as much.
The temperament of rulers. It was an atmosphere he had felt at the headquarters of the Blood Flame Cult. They didn't even seem to have the slightest intention of rubbing dry branches together to start a fire themselves.
"You are disturbing my thoughts. Get lost before you regret it."
Jeong Yeon-shin bluntly spoke his mind. Indifference dripped from his voice.
This was a place without the Divine Hero of the Desolate Fortress to sugarcoat the Unit Commander's words.
In a land crawling with all kinds of martial artists, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing sat casually, proud and entirely aloof.