Chapter 264: The Master of the Martial Book
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 264: The Master of the Martial Book
A year ago, the Yeoryeong Lord of the Thirteen Heavens commanded his successor.
—Study the Martial World thoroughly. The world is vast.
They were acting on a grand design, but the Young Lord of Lingering Spirit saw this familiar advice in a new light.
His master was a man who hid profound intentions behind even the slightest hint. If one failed to grasp his underlying motives, he would not keep them by his side. There had already been five former Young Lords.
Since he had been preoccupied with the long-held plan to destroy the Desolate Fortress, it was only natural to first investigate the Imperial Family's sword.
That was how he came to know of the Flash Art, Jeong Yeon-shin. It began with the duel to the death between the Desolate Fortress and the Namgung Clan.
His achievements were astonishing. It wasn't just his victory in the duel; the Young Lord could only watch in sheer disbelief as Yeon-shin earned the goodwill of such a formidable rival.
The Azure Qilin, Namgung Se-jin, was the man whom the young masters of the great sects saw as their chief rival in the race for supremacy over the Jianghu. He led the pack in both reputation and talent, a true hero among heroes. His title, 'Brilliant River,' was an honor his rivals could only dream of attaining.
The actions of the Blood Flame Cult's Seventh Apostle concerning the Flash Art also stoked jealousy among the young martial artists of the unorthodox and demonic sects. The catalyst for the clash between the Desolate Fortress and the Namgung Clan had been her kidnapping of the Flash Art.
Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin had returned perfectly unharmed, and even stronger than before. Observing their subsequent movements, their paths even seemed to overlap.
—She was a person of interest from the very beginning. Did she not reach the pinnacle of martial arts at an absurdly young age, born with the noblest bloodline in the Blood Flame Cult? Born with the True Blood Physique, she stands above all blood arts in the world. Her contact with the Flash Art, who is rumored to possess talent rivaling a Grandmaster…
—Just keep it in mind. There is nothing we can do right now.
The Young Lord received the various reports matter-of-factly.
—With the Lord of the Desolate Fortress personally appearing and annihilating the Blood Flame Cult's main headquarters, her attention might turn to us if we move rashly against him. It is not yet time. In any case, the decline of the Fortress Lord and the World Tree is not far off. There is no need to provoke a Martial God on the cusp of ascension. Instead of Xiangyang, look into Xinjiang. Investigate that Young Sect Leader.
—I shall obey your command.
This was the era of the Desolate Fortress, the undisputed hegemon of the Ming Dynasty's Jianghu. Outlaws dared not raise their heads. Wisdom gleaned from literature was valued as highly as martial arts.
Lingering Spirit valued both. It was a great sect skilled in conspiracies and schemes.
The Young Lord had inherited that very temperament.
Was it the arrogance common to those who master both the pen and the sword? Or perhaps he simply refused to acknowledge an outsider who had disrupted the established order of the Jianghu.
Even after witnessing the downfall of the former Young Lords, he had foolishly underestimated the Flash Art's extraordinariness. The Azure Qilin and the Seventh Apostle? Weren't their sects in decline anyway?
The sky of the Jianghu is vast, and comets blaze across it all the time. The rise of a newcomer is nothing new.
With an attitude he never should have held, he postponed his master's task. After the Flash Art donned the black robe, he began to watch events unfold as if he were merely reading an interesting story.
He remained a third party. The young master of the unorthodox Thirteen Heavens did not want to reveal his own pettiness. He would deal with the Flash Art at his leisure.
—The Imperial Family's new sword cannot be allowed to grow so strong. We must pull it out by the roots.
And now, it had come to this.
Kwaaaaah!
Lingering Spirit's secret technique, the Dark Movement Time-Transcending Vision, sliced a single moment into dozens of fragments. It was a span of time so short the mind could barely register the image on the retina.
It happened in the instant after the Commander of the Demonlight Wing—his body seeming to shatter into fragments—sliced off the right arm of the Lord of the Beast King Sect, then clashed with the Guardian in a single exchange that split her torso in two.
A white storm erupted across the snowfield, scattering the light. The shockwave that followed was monstrous, searing the skin.
The Flash Art, Jeong Yeon-shin.
He expanded rapidly, filling the Young Lord's vision.
Perhaps because the moment was so close to an instant, the black hem of his robe, stretched taut like a bolt of lightning without a single flutter, was a striking sight. A massive, colorless lotus of lightning enveloped his body—an image bordering on the supernatural.
The Flash Art didn't even turn to check the outcome of his clash.
He didn't need to. The Guardian, one of the strongest masters in Lingering Spirit, had failed in her role as the ultimate weapon for a great sect war.
She collapsed while trying to turn her eyes toward her Young Lord. It was instant death. In the end, their eyes never met.
The Young Lord suddenly wondered.
‘Just how many peak experts—on par with the Desolate Fortress's Black Ranks—is he going to slay alone?’
And he asked himself:
‘And I called him a mere sapling? A man like that…'
Could anyone, even with a single telekinetic strike from the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, slay the Ghost Soul Divine Sword?
Could anyone defeat Shaanxi's Number One Demon in a duel, even with a perfect counter in true qi?
It was impossible. This was a level of skill only permitted to an aberration of the heavens.
He was finally forced to confront the envy and jealousy he had buried deep within his heart. It came rushing back to him with the sword light, which trembled with terrifying power.
Unmatchable. That infuriatingly beautiful and youthful face was instantly obscured.
The sight of him swinging his sword so casually, pitch-black sleeves fluttering, was overwhelming. A deep blue beam of light, like a bolt of lightning, filled his vision.
Puhwak!
* * *
Snowflakes drifted along the ridge.
Dry pine needles, carried on the mountain wind, rustled against each other as they fell. The crisp sound of winter echoed across the snowy ridge.
The battlefield fell silent. It was over, now that two peak experts comparable to the Black Ranks of the Desolate Fortress had fallen.
The Guardian, an ultimate swordswoman, lay motionless with her head buried in the snow. The woman who had been instrumental in the Young Lord's rise to power had met an incredibly cold end.
Nearby, the Lord of the Beast King Sect, Wi Se-hyeok, was clutching the bloody socket of his right shoulder, his eyes rolled back in his head. His body was already stiff. The aftershock from the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's strike had exacerbated his injuries, and the monstrous pain had finally snuffed out his life.
And the Young Lord lay sprawled on the ground.
"C-cough..."
The noble young master's silk robe was torn by a diagonal slash. It was the mark of a sword strike that had lunged forward like lightning. Blood seeped from the chillingly clean cut. It was an irreversible, fatal wound—a sword path that connected this world to the Sanzu River of the afterlife.
After coughing up a mouthful of blood, the Young Lord barely managed to part his lips.
"Why... didn't you kill me in one strike...?"
"The Thousand-Year Fleeceflower Root."
Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly.
The lotus of Ultimate Lightning that had enveloped his body had already vanished. At his current level, he couldn't maintain it for long. He had to endure the pain surging through him, which threatened to constrict his blood vessels and tear at his meridians.
‘It hurts.’
But he showed no sign of it. With enemies still scattered everywhere, he had to maintain a strong front.
"Tell me. Where is it?"
"C-cough... Even if I die here, you'll never be able to handle the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect. Even if you somehow avoid him and get down the mountain... our master will seek revenge. This entire operation... was my master's command."
"Thank you."
"...!"
Jeong Yeon-shin paid no heed to the Young Lord's wide-eyed expression. Having already activated the Sight of the Lowly and sensed a mystical energy flowing from the man's chest, he snatched the wooden box.
"Indeed, you are nothing short of a monster..."
The Young Lord let out a hollow laugh, then continued.
"Getting it isn't the end. In the Jianghu, that's just the beginning. Keeping it will be the real problem. I heard the Mount Hua Sect Leader has also made her move... With the Hwasan Sword Excellence bedridden, do you really think she'll just let you have the spirit herb?"
"Aren't there multiple roots? My companion told me the earth veins leading to them are connected."
"..."
Behind him, the herb gatherer, Jang Sun-il, flinched at the sudden mention of his name. Jeong Yeon-shin paid him no mind, raising his sword as he slowly added, "It's rare for an enemy to offer both the problem and the solution, but you're more generous than the heavens themselves."
"I've heard you have a talent for infuriating people... Finish it."
The Young Lord gave a twisted smile.
A grim, wet squelch echoed as the Northern Light Sword pierced through his torso and plunged into the snowy ground.
The martial artists of the Desolate Fortress were said to be as ruthless as any soldier, and Jeong Yeon-shin was no exception. There was no mercy for the Young Lord of the Thirteen Heavens, who had used his own nephew's life as bait.
Red blood seeped into the snow beneath his back.
The experts present could hear the faint sizzle of melting snow, mingled with the Young Lord's soft chuckle.
"Commander of the Demonlight Wing... You're no mere sapling. You're a divine spirit herb."
"What?"
"And spirit herbs that grow in the Jianghu are usually..."
...destined to be plucked by someone's hand. The Young Lord couldn't finish his sentence, because the Commander of the Demonlight Wing yanked the sword upward from his abdomen in a reverse grip.
A heavy groan escaped him. As his strength faded completely, he could only let out ragged, wheezing breaths.
The Young Lord chuckled weakly. My jealousy truly knows no bounds.
Crunch.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned around without a word, only after confirming that the man's breathing had ceased.
He flicked the Northern Light Sword sharply.
Splatter.
Blood sprayed in a straight line. Some of the martial artists from the Beast King Sect and the Thirteen Heavens recoiled in terror. This was not how the strong, who had lorded over their own territories, were supposed to act.
Perhaps the Ultimate Lightning had been that impressive. Even the martial artists of the Orthodox Factions remaining on the ridge seemed to be keeping their distance.
In any case, he couldn't spare them a glance. Even that single swing had sent a massive backlash through his body. It felt like hundreds of needles were stabbing the inside of his arm. The other figures were a blur in his vision. He forced his legs to move, feigning strength.
"Let's go."
He spoke to Jang Sun-il and the Bukgung siblings, who were standing in the distance.
This time, their reactions diverged. The expressions of the Ice Palace nobles were entirely different from Jang Sun-il's. They looked nothing like the dumbfounded young herb gatherer. Their sharp features revealed a profound awe, with even a hint of admiration shining in their eyes.
"I hope you will visit the Ice Palace someday."
"Even the Palace Master would sheathe his temperament, sharper than any icicle, for you."
The four of them walked on in silence.
No one dared to pursue them.
For a while, only the crunching of their boots on the snow echoed. In the white footprints they left behind, only a serene silence remained.
* * *
He used Dharma Power to break through the formation, leaving the Bukgung siblings to exclaim in renewed wonder.
The brief respite didn't last long.
The moment the transparent barrier lifted, a scene of utter chaos unfolded. The clash of shockwaves was deafening. Snowballs tumbled from the branches of the tall pine and arborvitae trees.
The battle sparked by rumors of the Thousand-Year Fleeceflower Root was drawing to a close.
"Get out of the way! Run!"
"It's better to flee! We can't face that!"
"It's the Fourth Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult!"
Amidst hundreds of presences scattered like weeds, an exceptionally sinister energy surged violently.
Its speed was terrifying. A massive wave of internal power surged forward, swift and dark as a giant bat. He shot across the steep mountain terrain as if it were flat ground, his trajectory aimed straight for Jeong Yeon-shin's group. It was a near-perfect line, as though he possessed an incredibly keen sense.
Countless lives were snuffed out. Without slowing for even a second, he severed the necks of over a dozen people in a single pass.
He was said to be the Fourth Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult, and his martial prowess was certainly a testament to that. And that was the problem. With his current internal injuries, Yeon-shin couldn't guarantee victory.
"Take cover," Jeong Yeon-shin said, his eyes narrowing.
He looked toward the opposite hill. The enemy would ascend from there. This was a matter of life and death.
"And..."
He spoke again. Without waiting for a reply, he gestured briefly toward his travel bag.
Charararak—
The true qi of the Myriad Blossoms Rain surged in his palm. Books lifted from his bag and floated into the air, pages fluttering.
The herb gatherer, Jang Sun-il, stared with his mouth slightly agape. The books swirling around Jeong Yeon-shin had a strangely mystical air.
"Sun-il, you said your family's enemy was from an unorthodox faction, right? Take one of these. It might help. I can't give you the spirit herb."
"Y-yes...?"
Just as Jang Sun-il asked back blankly, a massive shockwave resounded from the opposite hill.
Koong!
It was the recoil of his rapid movement technique. A figure clad in a red robe soared into the air like a bird. He was a man with hair as black as ebony.
"I've come to the right place."
His eyes, gleaming red as if filled with condensed blood, swept over the group. Blood dripped from both of his arms. He was enveloped in a powerful aura, a translucent vortex of energy shot through with flashes of blood-red light. He looked invincible. Indeed, he had just slain dozens of people on his way up.
Even a peak expert from the Desolate Fortress's Black Ranks would have to be fully prepared to face him. It was only to be expected from the Fourth Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.
"The portrait didn't do you justice! I'm going to have to kill the painter!" he shouted cheerfully from midair, looking down at Jeong Yeon-shin. His wide, toothy grin was utterly sinister. He looked ready to unleash a decisive strike at any moment.
"Grand Preceptor, the one usurping the Cult Leader's authority is targeting you. If you don't come with me..."
It was then.
Woong—
The sky darkened. A crimson light surged up from the earth.
The two forces met, one from above and one from below, as if in a dream. They converged at the Fourth Apostle's waist, creating a horizon line. Along that long, faint boundary, a reddish sunset bloomed. Astonishment washed over the Fourth Apostle's face.
"The Purple Mist Divine Art...!"
In an instant, his body was split in two.
Puhwak!
Blood scattered like flower petals. The gruesome sight was almost sublime, like a piece of dreamlike art. It was incredibly surreal.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn't watch the Fourth Apostle's end. His attention was already on the scent of plum blossoms that had silently drawn near.
It was the Mount Hua Sect Leader, the Saint Flower Sword God Yul Ha-nang-rang. Her whisper, carried on a clear breath, brushed past his ear.
"Draft of the Compendium of Demon Extermination. Written by the Flash Art. Volume on the Thirteen Heavens of the Wicked Way...?"
Without turning his head, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing knew exactly what she was looking at: the table of contents in one of the books floating around him. It was divided into six parts.
I. Hegemon Sword Sect
II. Blood Flame Cult
III. Deep Martial Alliance
IV. Tenth Sect
V. Pure Demon Alliance
VI. Lingering Spirit
"What is the meaning of this...?"
Doubt colored Yul Ha-nang-rang's voice.