Chapter 291: Lotus (10)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 291: Lotus (10)
The current Commander of the Demonlight Wing had never known brotherly love.
His two older brothers used to egg on the children of Xinye County to torment him.
They convinced themselves that as long as the disgrace didn't spread too far beyond the Jeong Family Manor, the Manor Master would turn a blind eye.
They were right. That was exactly what happened.
Whenever ordinary peers who hadn't learned martial arts picked fights or ostracized him, Jeong Yeon-shin simply avoided them. Even though his family was only a third-rate martial clan, they were still part of the Martial World. He had heard the stories—vague as they were—that the Great Heroes of the Jianghu never used their martial arts to bully commoners.
Since his mother had also been a person of the Jianghu, he refused to use the Jeong Family Dynamic Art to brawl with townspeople—even if that very art had ultimately failed to protect his family from the Heterodox Sects.
His brothers mocked him. They called him weak. They said he lacked spirit, completely unlike a monster who had killed his own mother just to be born.
It was a distant memory now, yet it remained an indelible fact.
The swing during the Dano Festival, which he'd never been allowed to ride because of their ostracization, still lingered in his heart, even after he rose to the Black Rank of the Desolate Fortress.
Riding upon the fan of the Seon-ryong, Jegal Hyeon, he realized this anew.
—The principle of Go is that even if you must discard a stone, you must seize the initiative. This initiative carries profound meaning. It teaches you to clearly distinguish between what holds low value and what holds high value. The Azure Qilin discarded his shell as the Namgung Young Master and chose to be the martial artist Namgung Se-jin. In the end, he departed as a noble swordsman.
From Jegal Hyeon, Yeon-shin had learned Go, which laid the foundation for his Lightning-Flash Sword Ridge Style.
Stepping upon his Crane Wing Fan, Yeon-shin had torn apart the flesh and bones of the Ghost Soul Divine Sword, the culprit behind the annihilation of the Jeong Family Manor.
It was a benevolence he had never received, not even from his own blood relatives.
While most of the Martial World Alliance shunned the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Jegal Hyeon had taught the principles of Go and life to Jeong Yeon-shin—the very man who had defeated and killed his close friend, the Azure Qilin.
He was a Great Hero. Just like Namgung Se-jin.
When thinking of the heroes he had befriended outside the Desolate Fortress, he often thought that if he'd had a proper older brother, he would have been exactly like the Seon-ryong.
Naturally, he held him in the highest regard.
That was why, at this moment, an acute sense of loss washed over him.
Unbidden, the emotions he had felt upon seeing the corpses of the servants during the annihilation of the Jeong Family Manor resurfaced. To Jeong Yeon-shin, the Seon-ryong was the epitome of selfless righteousness.
‘May you find peace.’
The ropes of the swing hanging in his heart snapped. It happened the moment he registered Jegal Hyeon's sudden death.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing decided to deviate from his designated mission path. It was well within his discretion as a Black Rank of the Divine Sword Corps.
"…If the disciples of the Wolseong Sect appear, block them. You may reveal your identities at any time. Furthermore, none of you except Hwangbo the Scoundrel are to engage the Eon Family's Number One Fist."
Jeong Yeon-shin commanded, lowering his outstretched hand. His tone was dry and flat.
Sshhh—
He had just filled the sky with the shockwaves of his Law-Transcending Halo Qi, utilizing the subtle principles of the Flame River created by the Lazy Flame Dragon.
Faint fragments of light scattered and vanished into the moonlight, shimmering in hues of white and blue like crane feathers.
"You use it well enough for someone who called it crude."
The poppy addict spoke with a teasing lilt, trying to lighten the mood, but Jeong Yeon-shin didn't smile. He watched the Lazy Flame Dragon quickly straighten his expression.
This was a man who had just lost one of the few friends he had managed to make despite his scoundrel-like behavior. A commander must not receive comfort from his subordinate.
"Go to the inner quarters. Do not exchange more than ten clashes with the Eon Family's Number One Fist. The Number One Fist's Body Protection Qi is incredibly solid. You can aim for a single-point strike with your fervent yang energy, but your best bet is to feign an offensive while maintaining a defensive stance, then flee."
"Even if we do clash, will escape be possible?"
"I know your internal energy has deepened. Didn't you refine it at the Gate of the Heavenly Pillar?"
"Your sharp eye is as keen as ever, but I don't know why it feels so chilling today. It's almost as if the Commander's eyes have rolled back in his head."
The Lazy Flame Dragon spoke nonchalantly. For once, he wasn't chewing on poppies.
The Solar Divine Pulse.
It referred to the fervent yang energy that exploded with greater intensity the closer one drew to death.
Hwangbo the Scoundrel had also been born with a physique that made it difficult to achieve the Unity of Essence, Qi, and Spirit. However, his accumulated qi surpassed even that of Cheong-myeong, a member of the Brightfolk, making him the absolute greatest in the Demonlight Wing in sheer capacity.
As the Eldest Son of the Hwangbo Clan, he possessed a perfectly balanced martial arts disposition, leaning toward no extremes. Since he was also well-versed in surging his internal power—where internal energy was paramount—he could execute lightness skill maneuvers that would leave even a supreme expert in the dust, provided he was willing to endure the resulting internal injuries.
Whenever Cheong-myeong was absent, he practically served as the vanguard leader.
"The Jianghu is a place where dying in a foreign land is a common affair."
"Indeed," Jeong Yeon-shin replied briefly, his eyelids slightly lowered.
"Do not let your emotions sway with the deaths of acquaintances," the Lazy Flame Dragon advised. "At any moment, more than half of the Demonlight Wing could be wiped out. The Jianghu you inhabit, Commander, will only become more perilous the stronger you grow."
"I have already experienced it. In Sichuan."
"I know that, but I'm saying this because a person can never truly get used to it. Unless someone's personality is completely twisted, everyone feels it. But seeing that Jegal fellow end up like this makes me worry about what will happen after I die. I'm afraid you'll end up living a terribly boring life despite having such interesting talents. You're surprisingly soft-hearted deep down, after all."
"Shut up and hide. Come out when I signal."
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly turned around. The hem of his custom-fit, plain robe lightly brushed against his calves.
The presence of the local aristocrats approaching beyond the threshold was solemn and menacing.
It seemed they had interpreted the Vast Art Formula—the Flame River—as a show of force by a powerful intruder. They looked ready to deploy a sword formation at any moment.
He didn't care.
Step.
Leaving behind Jegal Hyeon's corpse and the weeping Jegal Cheong-a, he took a step forward.
Heonwon Chang, who had been silently watching Jeong Yeon-shin, spoke up. Having gone through a major ordeal, the usual grim look on his face had temporarily vanished.
"I have no idea what he might do. The Commander is becoming an adult. I've never seen him like this."
"Me neither. Neither the Commander, nor this fellow."
The Lazy Flame Dragon's dry breath drifted from the back of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing toward Jegal Hyeon's corpse.
The fan held in the Seon-ryong's grip remained frozen, motionless.
* * *
It was an artistically splendid hall.
The faint, elegant scent of ink and paper showed no signs of fading, even though the room was spacious enough to serve as a training ground for dozens of people.
An ink-black zither with a glossy sheen running down its strings, a Go board sculpted from fine marble, and calligraphies and paintings adorned with vibrant pigments and high-quality ink decorated the walls. Anyone stepping inside would immediately feel its profound elegance.
"The Jegal Clan Leader does not seem like an expelled disciple."
A middle-aged man with an angular face spoke. He glanced around the room while seated on an antique blackwood chair, before finally straightening his gaze forward.
A figure sat opposite him.
He wore a glossy, pitch-black Black Bamboo Hat, the translucent veil flowing down from its wide brim exuding an air of profound mystery. His taut, wrinkle-free jawline only added to the enigma.
He was perfectly suited for the seat of honor in such an antique room, serving as the crowning touch to the hall's aesthetic.
"An expelled disciple, you say."
The lips of the man, visible only from the lower half of his face, curved into a smile.
"It is I, the sovereign of the Jegal Martial Lineage, who expelled those worthless relatives from my sect. I am the Jegal Clan itself, and my very hand gestures open new horizons for the Endless Wind-Whirling Style. Who is expelling whom, and from where? If you are here to speak of worthless matters, leave."
"We cannot do that. Our family must retrieve the Eon Family Fist Manual."
"The same words again. I have already told you it is impossible."
"Strictly speaking, this is not a matter for you to permit or deny. It is our family's business. Where is Eon Hwa-ryeon?"
"It is the business of my companion, and of the Wolseong Sect that will soon be founded. You must understand this clearly. Unless the Eon Family submits to our sect, all proposals are useless. Do not dare covet Hwa-ryeon's annotated copy."
His voice was as smooth as flowing water.
Crack.
The middle-aged man of the Eon Family clenched his large fist tightly. Over the contours of the bulging muscles rising from the back of his hand to his forearm, a rough, transparent wave of energy shimmered.
Mountain-Crushing Fist, Eon Tae-gwang. He was one of the preeminent fist masters even within the Eon Family, which was counted among the Eight Great Families.
He was an expert truly worthy of serving as an envoy in a meeting with a peerless master.
"…We have made enough concessions. The vast lands of Hebei, and the escort contracts for the Wisdom River Merchant Group. Have we not sent you our terms repeatedly?"
"It is not enough. How can the value of High-Level Martial Arts be measured by such trivial things? You must have heard the rumors that the elderly Brightfolk monks of Shaolin, who have been facing the wall in meditation for hundreds of years, have finally lifted their heavy hips. As troubled times approach, they covet the Dharma Power of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing."
"To belittle our family, you even dare to disparage the highly cultivated monks of the Shaolin Temple...! That is preposterous!"
His voice gradually rose in anger. This was a secret negotiation that had already dragged on for far too long.
The Jegal Clan Leader's smile only deepened. It was as if he were deliberately provoking the man's fury.
"You should consider it an honor to be compared to Shaolin. Is not the comprehension of your lot uniformly foolish and worthless? I knew it from the moment you thrust the empty title of the next Clan Leader and the burden of the family's revival onto my companion. The bloodline of the Eon Family is mostly quick-tempered and completely incapable of self-reflection."
"Why, you...!"
Eon Tae-gwang, a great local aristocrat of the noble Eight Great Families, sprang to his feet.
Crash!
With just that movement, the long, thick table between the two split apart like a racing earthquake.
The hem of his yellow sleeveless robe fluttered violently. A colorless shockwave and Body Protection Qi erupted simultaneously from Eon Tae-gwang's body.
The hall shook violently, as if a tempest had just swept inside.
"Are you not the bastard who killed his own son with his own two hands? A man driven so mad by martial arts and dignity that he even sold out his own blood! For you to speak of family before me is utterly ridiculous..."
"You do not possess the attitude of a listener. You are not qualified to hear of the great cause," the Jegal Clan Leader muttered.
Rustle.
His sleeves brushed together slowly. He crossed his arms while holding a pure white Crane Wing Fan. It was a relaxed posture, hardly one that could be seen as the starting stance of any martial art.
Yet, at the exact same time.
Hummm!
The shockwaves explosively radiating from Eon Tae-gwang's entire body were abruptly sucked upward.
It was as if the Jade Emperor of Heaven had taken a deep breath. It happened in a mere instant.
The moment Eon Tae-gwang's thick eyebrows shot up in shock, the faintly rising energy condensed into a sphere in midair, instantly transforming into a thick pillar that plunged straight downward.
Whoosh!
It struck in a perfect vertical line, like a bolt of divine punishment.
Everything from the crown of Eon Tae-gwang's head to below his crotch vanished without a trace. A dull, lifeless thud echoed through the room. His remaining limbs, deprived of a head and torso, collapsed to the floor without spilling a single drop of blood. The severed surfaces were perfectly smooth, looking as if they had been seamlessly connected to another dimension entirely.
And then, a moment too late, the physical backlash arrived.
The air in the hall was violently sucked toward the massive, transparent cylindrical void left behind by the strike. In the ensuing rush of wind, the zithers, Go boards, calligraphies, and paintings decorating the surroundings were scattered in absolute disarray.
Flutter—
The Jegal Clan Leader covered his mouth with his wide-spread fan. Even the simple gesture of raising his elbow was impeccably elegant. The color of the pure white robe wrapping his body grew unusually vivid for a brief moment.
"To think I breathed the same air as such a fellow. How unpleasant."
His tone of voice had completely changed.
Step.
The sound came from a crack in a secret door on one side of the room. A muscular woman clad in a grey, sleeveless martial uniform walked out.
Duke of Eminent Fists, Eon Hwa-ryeon. The way she glanced at Eon Tae-gwang's severed limbs with a completely expressionless face exuded the aura of an established supreme expert.
"My lord, you have finally done it. He was my fifth cousin once removed."
"Do not reproach me so." The Jegal Clan Leader smiled. "He was someone who should not have heard of the great cause. The Eon Family will have no choice but to send someone else. Especially since Sister Eon was the only one who could replace the Eon Clan Leader, whose neck was snapped by the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance."
"……."
"If you are worried about the Martial World Alliance, let me assure you it is a groundless fear. I hear the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect held off the Sword Saint all by himself. The Nine Sects only dipped their toes in from the very beginning, and most of the Eight Great Families who declared their alliance have already pulled out... The current Martial World Alliance is nothing more than a minor coalition at the edge of Shaanxi. Without the Sword Saint, they are rootless rabble, hardly worthy of being called a great sect."
As his long index finger swept up the side of the fan, golden characters glowed faintly along his fingertip. The movement of his hand, seemingly habitual, contained the profound principles of a mysterious sorcery martial art.
"Naturally. Since I am not there," the Jegal Clan Leader murmured softly, letting his absolute, overbearing presence subside.
Eon Hwa-ryeon stared at him blankly for a while before finally speaking.
"Since my lord annihilated the Jegal Clan's pursuit squad, a foundation has been established in Shanxi just as intended."
"Now only the Desolate Fortress remains. However, they are too busy trying to plug the leaks in the cracked jar that is the Central Plains. At most, only a handful of strong masters will come to celebrate the founding ceremony of the Wolseong Sect. At the Shanxi Martial Arts Tournament, that is."
"Will my lord be able to avoid getting hurt?"
"How could I possibly lose to those who walk right into a trap prepared specifically for them?" he replied.
* * *
The Dharma Power of the Halo Qi, which normally should have felt warm, was completely different from before.
It wrapped around his pitch-black robes with a suppressive might closer to absolute law than to Buddhist Dharma. Even though he had not manifested any proper Body Protection Qi, it felt as if he were clad in the impenetrable iron armor of a heavenly general.
Such was his overwhelming disposition. It formed a strange contrast with the massive build of the Shanxi Noble Family Leader standing before him, who actually was wearing iron armor.
Behind the man, all kinds of local aristocrats staying at the Gongya Clan stood in a long line, yet Jeong Yeon-shin's solitary presence didn't lose a single ounce of its weight even when compared to the massive crowd.
"Hmph."
His eyes met those of a middle-aged man with a fierce, glaring gaze. It was the father of Gwi Il-tae, the man who had clashed with Jeong Yeon-shin multiple times.
As expected of someone said to have been a grand general fighting northern barbarians in his youth, a rough, martial elegance flowed from his bearing and internal power.
On this night where the dark air seamlessly blended with the moonlight, the Gwi Clan Leader parted his thick lips.
"You said you were Geom Un-bi, Lord of the Hanging Jade Sect. An astonishing age, and an even more marvelous martial prowess. Let me make a proposal..."
"Dust is blocking my view," the Commander of the Demonlight Wing interrupted, resting a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist.