Chapter 271: The Master of the Martial Book (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 271: The Master of the Martial Book (8)
The Chief Steward's Office of the Desolate Fortress occupied one of the largest pavilion complexes in the main fortress.
It was an era where scholars were treated with unprecedented respect. One could tell just by looking at the path leading to the entrance, which was lined with flowers and plants blooming brilliantly despite the cold winter air.
This landscape was a gift from the Lord of the Desolate Fortress to the scholars of the Chief Steward's Office—a garden for literati who might turn into poets and painters at any moment.
Rustle.
The footsteps of the four Blue Rank experts carrying the palanquin were incredibly light. If anything, their martial auras were so distinct that the petals on either side of the path occasionally swayed in their wake.
Only the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, seated high above the garden of white and yellow flowers, remained completely motionless.
The warriors escorting him had been specially summoned for this task; the other experts of the Demonlight Wing had already returned to their quarters.
"Hmm."
The taciturn-looking man holding the rear pole of the palanquin spoke. He was a Blue Rank expert with pale skin like the Commander of the Bloodkeeper Unit, and his exceptionally red lips—reminiscent of the Blood Sword Ghost Pung-ran, who had also been drafted—parted.
"Is this really all right?" Na Il-cheon, the Asura Demon Soul, glanced at the back of Jeong Yeon-shin, the new Commander he now served.
The palanquin was carried by two pairs: the Lazy Flame Dragon and Heonwon Chang held the front poles, while Wi Ye-ryeong and Na Il-cheon supported the rear.
The Lazy Flame Dragon, walking ahead, shook his head dismissively. "What else can we do? Everyone already witnessed the Commander's triumphal return. Didn't they say the order came directly from our esteemed Lord?"
"The farther we go, the more well-pressed robes I see. High-ranking officials are gathered in the inner courtyard," said Wi Ye-ryeong, a massive composite bow slung across her back. She stared ahead with her deep blue eyes.
Heonwon Chang nodded. "Indeed. Can't you hear all those annoying voices? It sounds like a full-blown protest... though they don't have the guts to actually shout."
The five senses of a Blue Rank expert were incredibly sharp. While there were significant variations depending on one's mastery of the Path of Senses, a warrior had to be able to clearly perceive the rustle of a single falling leaf just to pass the promotion test.
Thus, they could hear everything.
"The Provincial Administration Commissioner expressed his deep concern. Those who have learned martial arts have begun acting as pirates and bandits. Lately, there is nothing left to plunder in Jiangxi, so only senseless casualties are mounting."
"The Right Councilor of Jiangxi's words are no different from the situation in our own district."
"Now, even those who haven't learned martial arts are turning to banditry. They are practically swarming."
"We have our own grievances as well. A while ago, three Blue Rank warriors visiting Chengdu in Sichuan were murdered by mysterious experts. Since no reinforcements were sent for so long, we braved the treacherous roads to come all the way here to Xiangyang, only to hear that the Tang Clan has already stabilized Chengdu in the meantime."
"Then isn't that fine? Didn't you see the low-ranking officials outside? They are lining up to appeal directly to the Grand Steward of the Desolate Fortress... I believe it would be proper for you to show some consideration for your subordinates and yield your spot."
"No, I also need a firm assurance regarding the public order of our region's Jianghu. When the local aristocrats' Myriad Blossoms Rain is more reliable than the blue swords of the Desolate Fortress... I cannot simply leave. I am staying just to see the Grand Steward's face, yet he hasn't granted me an audience even after half a day. He must be incredibly busy with official duties."
"I hear it is common for people to wait for seven days and nights."
"Good grief..."
"Since they refuse to let us in under any circumstances, the dignity of Great Ming officials is..."
This was proof of the difficult situation the Divine Sword Corps of the Desolate Fortress had recently found itself in.
In the inner courtyard leading to the elegant pavilion of the Chief Steward's Office, men clad in antique official robes of various colors were debating the breakdown of law and order. Their demeanor was polite, and their voices were refined.
These officials had left their quarters, ignoring the interview dates they had already been assigned. They never raised their voices. They strictly kept to the line. This was the domain of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress, a Martial God who had been recognized as a monarch even before the current Emperor ascended the throne.
The dozens of bureaucrats knew how to keep their heads on their shoulders. They merely discussed the facts in calm, measured tones.
Even as the palanquin of the Black Rank Commander approached, they only glanced at it with placid expressions.
"I have heard of him... They said the new Commander under the Divine Sword Corps was that young."
"He is the Hidden King Amidst Flowers of Sichuan. His arrogant posture suits him strangely well."
"He has the spirit of a Grand Governor. He looks like nothing less than a victorious general. At such a young—no, youthful age."
Each of them maintained their dignity. They must have heard of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's achievements from the repeated announcements echoing from afar, yet they merely stepped back a few paces with indifferent faces. It was their way of saving face.
"Look at them," Heonwon Chang scoffed as he and his companions passed through the crowd of officials.
Though he was treading softly, his light footsteps carried a strange rhythm.
"Eating fine meals in a year of famine, they stroll into our fortress as if on holiday.
When they benefited from our warriors, not a single letter of thanks did they send.
Too proud to send deputies, yet too cowardly to beg for the Imperial Army's deployment lest it hinder their careers.
So they huddle in a tight little bunch, gaping like turtles."
He continued, his voice ringing out clearly, "Not a soul from Shaanxi, where our Commander traveled, is here today. Yet here stand those who benefited from the Myriad Blossoms Rain he restored."
"You...!"
The clear, resonant voice delivered the biting sarcasm. Even though they had been insulted as "turtles," the officials could not react. Above that unrefined mockery sat the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. This was not a place to act rashly.
The authority to summarily execute officials.
It was a rumor that had spread quietly among the high-ranking circles. Most of the officials shut their mouths, their faces contorted in various expressions.
It was then that a booming laugh erupted from the top of the Chief Steward's Office.
"Bwahahaha!"
A middle-aged man with a thick, pitch-black beard poked his head out of a window, his face full of mirth. On the lower floors around him, several other figures appeared in the window frames. Scholars who had trained in martial arts showed their smirking faces before disappearing one by one.
The Grand Steward shouted loudly, "They said the Great Tongue Sword was our youngest Commander's right-hand man, and indeed, his reputation is well-deserved! That was incredibly refreshing!"
"I am flattered. I merely spoke whatever came to mind." Heonwon Chang needlessly adjusted the Hero's Headband on his forehead.
The Grand Steward chuckled, his gaze shifting to the palanquin. "Young Master Jeong's breathing has grown remarkably deep. It is no wonder you were able to slay such top-tier experts in succession. This achievement is of an entirely different caliber; I was utterly astonished even as I received the reports."
"..."
However, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing did not reply, merely resting his chin on his hand. He kept his eyes closed, his expression indifferent. The winter sunlight catching his handsome face made him stand out.
The officials whispered among themselves. The Grand Steward of the Desolate Fortress was said to possess the strength of a mid-tier Black Rank, yet the youth did not even bother to acknowledge his praise.
"Does he truly possess such status?"
"Look at his posture. Is it not profoundly natural?"
"I believe there were rumors that he is favored by the Imperial Grandson."
"What...?"
No one paid their murmurs any attention. Only the Lazy Flame Dragon curled his lips into a smirk.
The Grand Steward, looking down at the palanquin carried by the four Blue Ranks, smiled. He has even surpassed the lineage of the Ma Family.
He has firmly established his prestige among the officials rooted throughout the land. Though only hardships await him in the Jianghu, this will yield positive results no matter what mission he undertakes in the future. Young Master Jeong is truly aiming for the Purple Rank at such a young age.
It was a chaotic era where the future was hard to predict. This deed would surely return to him with interest.
The Grand Steward spoke slowly. "Go straight up to the Lord. There was a strict command. I have my hands full at the moment, so I shall see you again when we tally your merits."
"Is that true? Straight away?" Heonwon Chang asked, but the Grand Steward had already turned away.
*
The stairs of the Lord's inner castle were wide enough for a palanquin to be carried up.
Rumble—
The massive stone doors opened on their own the moment the party reached the top of the stairs.
Beyond the doors, a chamber open to the sky on the far side was revealed. A hazy, reddish-gold sunset poured in through the vast opening.
The Lazy Flame Dragon bit his lip slightly. A dreamlike atmosphere washed over his already hazy and fading mind.
I might lose consciousness.
A figure reclined against a tree trunk inside the chamber. The tips of her grass-green hair, blending into the twilight, swayed gently below her waist. She projected no presence whatsoever, but because of that, the surrounding scenery—the grass, the rustle of the wind—felt exceptionally vivid.
Was this the realm that the world's renowned scholars called the Nature Sword? Even as the eldest son of the local aristocrats who ruled Jinan in Shandong Province, it was difficult for him to comprehend.
"We pay our respects to the Lord," the voice of the Moon-Shooting Bow Ghost, Wi Ye-ryeong, echoed from behind.
The Lazy Flame Dragon repeated the greeting as if nothing were amiss. "We pay our respects to the Lord."
"Set it down."
A clear, resonant voice drifted out.
And from that moment on, the Lazy Flame Dragon was swept into an entirely different flow of time. It felt as though an overwhelming force was pushing his mind away. His consciousness drifted as if in a dream, as if thoughts, reason, and perception were forbidden within this chamber.
A single soft footstep rustled. The shadow of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress fell over the palanquin. His Commander slumped backward as if his sealed acupoints had been released by her mere approach. The Lord's long fingers touched the pale cheek of his Commander, who looked as fair as a member of the Brightfolk. A light shone like a blade of grass the moment her hand reached his brow. A soft breath, an incredibly faint exhalation... and her fingertips brushing past the Commander's eyes.
That was all. He could see nothing beyond that.
Not the sunset swaying in the Lord's hair, nor the scent of grass that brushed his nose for a brief moment, nor the lips of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress parting to command them to leave.
Before they knew it, the palanquin party was standing outside the closed stone doors.
*
Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin opened his eyes.
The moment his vision cleared, his focus returned. He saw a familiar wall. It was his quarters in the Demonlight Wing pavilion.
As he straightened up from where he had been lying slightly curled on his side, the deeply familiar scent of the stone walls welcomed him warmly.
I made it back safely.
Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He had half-expected enemies to block their path. It was all thanks to the outstanding skills of his companions. Even with a useless scoundrel mixed in, they still delivered results worthy of the Demonlight Wing's reputation.
Rustle.
Jeong Yeon-shin tidied his bedding and threw on his robe, which was sleeveless on the left side.
At the same time, a commotion arose from outside the door. He could feel several presences on the roof, likely guarding their defenseless Commander.
"He's awake!"
"Commander! It was all Hwangbo the Scoundrel's fault...!"
"You idiot! Shut up for a second! He doesn't know yet!"
A faint smile touched Jeong Yeon-shin's lips. Back at the Jeong Family Manor, such lively warmth had never been directed at him. It seemed the Lazy Flame Dragon had caused some trouble, but it would likely be sorted out by Cheong-myeong and Baek Mi-ryeo. There was a hint of laughter in the seniors' noisy banter.
It was a cozy, vibrant atmosphere.
He murmured softly, "Quiet."
He didn't even bother to infuse his voice with True Qi, yet the Demonlight Wing pavilion fell into instant silence. Only the youthful voices of the nameless disciples playing in the front yard and the training ground across from it could be heard intermittently.
There was a reason he had silenced them. Jeong Yeon-shin casually adjusted his clothes.
To the north, the Wish-for-Peace One Sword Hall.
He could feel a transcendent presence emanating from the meeting place of the Desolate Fortress's leadership. His sense of Qi, which was maturing even by Black Rank standards, reacted like skin pricked by a needle.
Though highly unstable, it was an overwhelming presence. It was different from the aura of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress, which was impossible to perceive in the slightest.
An incredible pressure, magnificent as a tidal wave, surged through the paper window above his threshold.
The current Commander of the Divine Sword Corps was summoning the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.