Chapter 288: Lotus (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 288: Lotus (7)
Most sects in the Shanxi martial world had been unable to attend the Martial World Alliance assembly held in Shaanxi.
They were not worldly enough to recognize the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress, who was disguised under a false identity.
The world was incredibly vast. Once one crossed into another province, rumors about even the most famous masters often became distorted beyond recognition.
Even for Ak Su-rim, the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress, some local rumors in the Jianghu claimed she was a five-year-old child, while others insisted she was a wrinkled old crone.
The Thirteen Heavens of the Wicked Way, the Nine Great Sects, the Eight Great Families—none of them had a significant presence here.
Shanxi Province, despite being as vast as a small country, was practically a wasteland for martial lineages, at least when compared to the endlessly sprawling world. It was an environment where a powerful military presence prevented any great sect from rising.
The martial artists of Shanxi had always lived in a world of their own. Fierce scheming, under-the-table negotiations, covert plundering, and relentless training…
They were busy securing food during famines and expanding their influence.
It was that kind of era. As owners of fertile land, they planted swords in the ground instead of scarecrows, driving away people rather than birds.
And yet, they enjoyed the elegance of prestigious families. They savored delicacies during famines, collected famous paintings, and invited celebrities from all walks of life as guests.
Rumble! Crash!
A tremendous, prolonged roar swept through the banquet hall.
It made sense that the blood ghosts had raided the place, targeting the food first. Driven out by something they could not resist, their hollow cheeks and starved eyes made their desperation clear. They had launched their attack after hearing rumors of a feast at the renowned Gongya Clan.
The startled martial artists drew their weapons, in no position to worry about the servants around them. The Blood Flame Cult's Essence Absorption Great Law caused a fatal loss of internal energy. They had no choice but to immediately and desperately flare their own energy.
The dust rising chaotically from the banquet hall floor was proof of their extreme vigilance. The moment those fangs bit them, even for an instant, the internal energy they had painstakingly accumulated would vanish. Since lost time could never be recovered, even the tiniest amount of internal energy refined through qi meditation just two days ago was a treasure to the people of the Jianghu.
As the martial artists seated as honored guests stepped forward to form a defensive line, the leaders of various sects checked on their disciples.
The chaotic battle that had seemed so inevitable…
…was brought to an end in a single breath.
“The Body Protection Scripture…?” a martial artist from a prestigious family muttered, his hand gripping his sword hilt.
Whoosh—
Something like a comet suddenly swept around the banquet hall, leaving a long, dispersing trail of faint white light. The Blood Master Swordsmen blocking the path were shattered, their physical bodies obliterated along with their defenses. Few could properly perceive what kind of strike had been delivered.
Was this truly just the aftermath of a single lightness skill?
It was as if a constellation, normally hidden by the sun, had blazed into existence. It was a martial art unimaginable in a land where even Green Forest bandits were considered formidable.
Thud. Thud.
Flesh that had been flung high into the air rained down a moment later. Fragments of limbs, their blood evaporated by the sheer force of the impact. Such a sight was rare even after being hit by a Thunderbolt Bomb, meaning the single strike had completely pulverized the Blood Master Swordsmen's body protection qi.
All movement in the area ground to a halt. This was true for both the attacking blood ghosts and the martial artists confronting them.
The young nobles who had been discussing famous paintings stole glances at the vagrant of their own age.
The various sect leaders who had been discussing the administration of Shanxi Province stared in shock, their discerning gazes far surpassing those of their disciples. It was only their ingrained dignity that kept them from showing it more overtly.
Rustle.
At the banquet table where the Body Protection Scripture had originated, the edge of a dark sleeve brushed against the wood. Having returned to his seat before anyone noticed, Jeong Yeon-shin’s fingers cut through the silence to grasp his wine cup.
He tipped his cup toward Gwi Il-tae of the Shanxi Gwi Clan, who was standing in a daze.
“They say bandits who lose their chief become a disorganized rabble.”
“……”
“But blood ghosts are different. Their foundation is their doctrine, not a leader. We can’t leave the survivors alone. Move immediately.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s words now carried the weight of experience. His sarcastic retort to Gwi Il-tae, who had previously prattled on about "foundations," resonated with a clear, ringing tone. Despite his vagrant status and noble face, he spoke like a seasoned veteran of the Jianghu who had survived countless real battles.
Geom Un-bi, Lord of the Hanging Jade Sect. He was a peculiar man by any standard.
Gwi Il-tae, who had been running his mouth like a jackal despite his bear-like build, silently met his gaze. A deep shadow fell over his fierce eyes. He was the eldest son of a great martial family. Even if his knowledge of the wider Jianghu was limited, his eye for people was not. The man before him was no common, third-rate scoundrel.
A mere vagrant, who was supposed to be nothing more than a pawn to humiliate the Gongya Clan, was mocking the eldest son of the Shanxi Gwi Clan’s leader—yet Gwi Il-tae could not bring himself to rashly speak back.
He slowly turned around. He had just witnessed a master he couldn't afford to provoke. On a battlefield, opposing such a powerhouse would bring nothing but ruin. If he acted on reckless pride, he might end up like the Blood Master Swordsmen, shattered into pieces of flesh.
A master capable of trading blows with our clan leader…
If Shaanxi had the Mount Hua Sect and the Hegemon Sword Sect, then Shanxi had the Gongya Clan and the Gwi Clan as its premier noble houses. Even if there was a vast disparity between regional powers, a clan leader of their caliber was an extremely powerful master. If Geom Un-bi's martial prowess was at that level, Gwi Il-tae couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. After all, his earlier words had bordered on outright verbal abuse.
Gwi Il-tae tried to guess why his head was still attached to his shoulders. He could think of no other reason than his own status. As a guest of the Gongya Clan, which claimed to belong to the orthodox Righteous Faction, Geom Un-bi probably couldn't just snap the neck of another honored guest over a few words.
Shring.
He drew his saber. This was a situation where he had to follow the vagrant's orders.
The Gongya Clan has gained wings. This is bad.
Advancing toward the blood ghosts who had lost their Blood Master Swordsmen, Gwi Il-tae set his mouth in a grim line. He was the acting leader of the Shanxi Gwi Clan. He had to take what happened at this banquet very seriously.
* * *
There were no casualties.
Despite the chaotic battle, every single servant survived.
This was because the nameless vagrant had played the role of a decisive weapon in a great sect war. He had annihilated the enemy's vanguard in a single blow and shattered their morale. Until the fight ended, he had stood quietly by his seat, focusing solely on the safety of the common folk. He looked ready to display his mysterious lightness skill again at a moment's notice.
A strange obsession flickered in his slightly downturned eyes; he seemed to care deeply about the lives of those performing menial labor. The way his gaze swept across the venue proved as much. He paid no mind to the precious nobles, as if he deeply empathized with the plight of those who lived like mayflies in the Murim.
And he had achieved a feat that earned him that right.
Though there was some gossip, Geom Un-bi, Lord of the Hanging Jade Sect, became the talk of the Shanxi nobles.
“He must have been born with an extraordinary lineage like ours. Such outstanding talent never comes from humble bloodlines.”
“Can’t you tell just by looking at him?”
“It seems the Gongya Clan Leader was also a bit surprised. Since he’s a vagrant who only recently set foot in this manor, perhaps we could win him over to our clan by promising power and riches…”
“A vagrant? He said he is the Lord of the Hanging Jade Sect, which has a single-disciple succession. If you want to win someone over, you must start with the right attitude.”
Despite the attack, the banquet did not end that day. As the days passed, it continued with even greater grandeur. It had transformed into an event for the Gongya Clan to flaunt its power after acquiring an incredibly strong master.
The clan leader even invited Jeong Yeon-shin separately to share drinks. News of the clash between Lingering Spirit, the Hegemon Sword Sect, and the Martial World Alliance seemed to take a backseat.
Around that time, Jeong Yeon-shin received a letter from a servant.
— I wish to meet you on the night of the full moon at the Eternal Darkness Pavilion to the west of the manor. If you make the journey, you will certainly not regret it.
Confidence exuded from the brushstrokes. The boldly written script even bore traces of deep internal energy, as if speaking to the writer's character and martial skill. It was different from the countless invitations Jeong Yeon-shin had received in his short time there.
“The letter smells fragrant. It’s the kind of paper used when sending word to precious people, made from Luminous Wood by the Suwol Sect. It says the full moon, right? We were invited as well,” said a boy, lightly clasping his hands behind his back and leaning slightly backward. He was clearly trying his best not to look at the contents, a gesture meant to show proper etiquette.
Gongya Su.
He was the Second Young Master of the Gongya Clan. Ever since the incident in the banquet hall, he had been frequently visiting the detached villa. A cheerful boy who smiled brightly and said he wanted to call him "brother," his sharp eyes—characteristic of the Gongya bloodline—softened with admiration only when looking at Jeong Yeon-shin. He bore a striking resemblance to his older sister, Grand Lady Gongya Jeong.
“I hear the Lord of the Suwol Sect guaranteed absolute safety to our clan leader,” Gongya Jeong continued with a peculiar expression. “The clan leader permitted our attendance. It is, after all, a solemn promise from someone who has had deep ties with our family since long ago.”
Even after witnessing the martial prowess displayed by Geom Un-bi, Lord of the Hanging Jade Sect, her words and actions remained immaculate. A cliff-like solidity emanated from her posture as she politely clasped her hands. It was an atmosphere that made Jeong Yeon-shin think of a precipice—a martial artist like a stone vessel, carving herself over a different dimension of time. She felt incredibly distant.
Jeong Yeon-shin tried his best to avoid eye contact with the Grand Lady. She was a presence that awakened his fundamental sense of inferiority. Before a stone destined to stand for ages, the mayfly of the Desolate Fortress secretly felt small. It was a feeling he had never experienced, not even with the Brightfolk masters. Was it because the year had changed, bringing death a step closer, and they were now bound by a relationship of teaching?
“Are there other participants in the martial arts tournament whom I haven't seen yet?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked, casting his gaze slightly downward.
“Yes. Since Shanxi is vast, not everyone has gathered. Their numbers will have grown by the time of the banquet at the Eternal Darkness Pavilion.”
“I will attend. Let us go together.”
He answered, thinking of the Pure Blood Robe. There were many names to add to the roster.
* * *
The sun hung high in the sky, yet its faint light fell as transparently as moonlight. It was a place where a pavilion stood tall, its roof an elegant curve, while ripples on the nearby lake sparkled like stars.
“Welcome.”
Gwi Il-tae of the Shanxi Gwi Clan briefly clasped his hands in greeting toward the three. He seemed more concerned with the newly appeared vagrant, Geom Un-bi, than with his powerful competitors, the Gongya siblings. The light in his sunken eyes was sharp, as was the gaze with which he secretly sized up Jeong Yeon-shin.
However, his thoughts were thoroughly concealed.
He is still just a vagrant. Lowborn.
Gwi Il-tae volunteered to guide them. This banquet was not hosted by the Suwol Sect alone. The Shanxi Gwi Clan had also lent its strength, for they had invited the most precious guest in all of Shanxi at this very moment. An esteemed senior capable of crushing the spirit of any rising star had arrived.
They had to use this opportunity to suppress the guest welcomed by the Gongya Clan. The spirit of the Jianghu during a famine was survival of the fittest. They wanted to show him that the Gongya Clan was not the only place he could rely on, and if he disagreed, they intended to borrow the senior's hand to eliminate him.
That would be perfectly fine. The Gongya Clan belonged to the Righteous Faction. To establish their prestige, they used things like martial arts tournaments rather than great sect wars. They were bound to be devoured by the Shanxi Gwi Clan, which had even begun bribing government officials under the cover of the famine.
How could a nameless wretch who crawled on the dirt ever contend with an esteemed senior who learned martial arts from the heavens?
He doubted neither the senior's martial power nor the vagrant Geom Un-bi's lowly nature. Though his thoughts were cold, he firmly maintained his sense of superiority. That was how the eldest son of the Gwi Clan, which was composed of former generals from the northern front, had always lived.
Gwi Il-tae smiled smoothly, his bear-like, rugged face softening.
“Master Geom. Since it is a rare surname, it must be easy to establish your own family. I misspoke the other day.”
“For a slip of the tongue, you spoke for quite a while, didn’t you?” Jeong Yeon-shin, walking behind him, asked with a puzzled expression before coming to his own conclusion. “Ah… I understand. A bandit’s mistake is usually along the lines of swinging an axe carelessly and taking a passerby’s life.”
“Hmph……”
Gwi Il-tae could not find a suitable reply.
While the Second Young Master Gongya Su chuckled beside them and the Grand Lady Gongya Jeong did not stop her brother, the group arrived in front of the pavilion.
Many people had already arrived. Among those attending the banquet, there was not a single person who did not carry the blood of high-ranking local nobles. This was true for all of the dozen or so men and women carrying various weapons.
“Look over there. So they were the reason the eldest son of the Gwi Clan went out to greet them.”
“He was acting out of character, and it seems it was because of that man. His appearance is indeed as legendary as they say… but is it true that his martial arts are on the same level?”
“Quiet. Great Hero Eon is present. Do not disturb the senior's ears.”
The lavishly set tables became noisy, yet it was not boisterous. Their conversation was closer to hushed whispers. The young lords and ladies who had paid no attention to Jeong Yeon-shin at the previous banquet were now behaving with extreme politeness.
The reason was easy to guess.
At the seat of honor in the spacious pavilion, a woman sat indolently, one knee propped up on the table. The clearly defined muscles of her arm, starting from her deltoid, caught the eye first. Her hand, loosely gripping a liquor bottle at the end of blue, bulging veins, was striking. Her heavily calloused hands looked like fist guards themselves, and a flashing internal energy flowed from her disheveled hair instead of a healthy sheen.
The sleeveless grey martial uniform suited her perfectly.
The moment the woman raised her head, her eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin's.
Both were startled. They had each been suppressing their energy waves through the realm of Return to Simplicity.
“…Eon Family's Number One Fist.”
Jeong Yeon-shin's lips parted slightly.
An extremely powerful fist master who thoroughly understood the counters to the Flash Art lineage. The lover of that absolute master, the Jegal Clan Leader.
It was the Duke of Eminent Fists, Eon Hwa-ryeon.
Things have gone wrong.
The senses of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing sharpened to a razor’s edge. The Eon Family's Number One Fist no longer traveled alone. An unrivaled master of sorcerous martial arts accompanied her, making them an invincible pair. If he encountered them here, death would surely follow.
At that moment.
“You crazy…”
Suddenly, her brow furrowed deeply, and she glared at Gwi Il-tae with a terrifying gaze. The eldest son of the Gwi Clan, who had been smiling faintly, flinched. In an instant, a monstrous energy wave erupted from Eon Hwa-ryeon's body.
“You have absolutely no idea who you've brought here! You insignificant wretch! You lunatic!”
Hum—!
The air warped and distorted.
“Duke of Eminent Fists!”
Just as the utterly bewildered Gwi Il-tae struggled to keep his balance, Eon Hwa-ryeon's liquor bottle suddenly tore through the air and flew straight at him.
Crash!
It struck his forehead and shattered. The body protection qi enveloping Gwi Il-tae's body exploded into nothingness. As the resulting backdraft shook the very pillars of the pavilion with the force of a Thunderbolt Bomb, Jeong Yeon-shin looked at Eon Hwa-ryeon, ignoring the limply collapsed Gwi Il-tae.
“Your martial arts have improved,” he said, lightly touching his sword hilt, his tone as if he were looking down on her.