Chapter 296: Lotus (15)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 296: Lotus (15)
I must fulfill my duty, Jeong Yeon-shin thought, his mind turning to his seniors.
Already, the Divine Blood Ultimate Demon, Jin Myeong-jo, was tracking the Jegal Clan Leader's location with his uniquely vast sense of qi. He was utilizing the same stealth technique that had once eluded even the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect.
He couldn't simply rest easy on the assumption that the absolute master of sorcery martial arts wouldn't descend upon this place.
Ak Su-rim and Jin Myeong-jo would have to keep the Jegal Clan Leader in check by themselves.
They might have clashed by now.
He had witnessed the martial prowess the Jegal Clan Leader displayed at the Alliance, and he knew exactly how incredibly powerful Ak Su-rim and Jin Myeong-jo were.
If the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress and the Divine Blood Ultimate Demon fought together, they wouldn't die anywhere.
Since they could guarantee their unconditional survival even in the harshest wilderness, it was said that no one beneath the heavens could criticize them, regardless of how they chose to carry themselves.
The two seniors were known as strict unit commanders even within the Desolate Fortress—strict enough to scold their youngest if he brought dishonor to the main fortress here.
I must not become a junior who brings shame to Senior Jin.
No one moved as he took his steps.
Rustle.
The only sound was the occasional brushing of his pitch-black robe, torn in places.
The heavy silence remained even as he retrieved the secret manual from Eon Hwa-ryeon's embrace, closed her eyes, and lifted her corpse to carry it away.
"Sigh..."
Only after the Commander of the Demonlight Wing approached one side of the local aristocrats' canopy did the silence finally break.
"The imperial family's black precious sword... its reputation is indeed well-deserved."
"They say there are only seventeen of them in the vast Desolate Fortress. Now I see how he became a unit commander at such a young age."
"Let us return. We have seen all there is to see."
"From this moment on, strictly punish anyone who violates our sect rules. Tell them not to venture outside carelessly. We must focus on securing our gates for the time being."
"It is as if the Jegal Clan Leader's peerless gauntlets have been shattered. I don't know anymore. What will become of Shanxi..."
More and more voices began to chime in, accompanied by the rustle of local aristocrats moving busily.
The life-and-death duel, an event destined to become a massive topic of conversation anywhere in the Jianghu, had reached its conclusion.
Since a unit commander of the Desolate Fortress had slain a top-tier expert from one of the Eight Families, those with power now had to prepare for the inevitable aftermath.
Many left the venue with dark, grim expressions.
"I would like her to be buried."
Jeong Yeon-shin did not care about the buzzing of the various crickets around him.
Slide.
He handed Eon Hwa-ryeon's corpse to a tall woman—the bizarre, craggy rock known to the world as the Iron Flower Sword Phoenix, Gongya Jeong.
The grand lady of the noble family lowered her eyelids slightly.
"Are you not a Black Rank expert of the Desolate Fortress? You may speak informally to me. If my family has committed any discourtesy in the past..."
Her tone was soft, her voice carrying little inflection. She spoke exactly like the successor of a family bound by strict etiquette.
As she raised her heavily calloused hands to receive the corpse, even the rustle of her sleeves sounded neat and orderly.
"You deserve to be addressed with respect," Jeong Yeon-shin said, hiding the cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.
Whenever he faced this person, he felt the vastness of time.
It was a sensation born from her innate, stone-like senses and rock-steady temperament.
Judging by her manner of speaking, which carried the weight of decades, she was inherently superior to him. Compared to the grand lady of the Gongya Clan, he was merely a mayfly living for a single day.
Whenever he looked at her, a sudden wave of inferiority would make him feel gloomy. He would rather walk through a forest packed with sword-wielding monkeys.
The Murim. Even if he couldn't understand their screeching, performative gestures, they were at least entertaining to watch.
"Where are you heading?"
The question was asked right at eye level.
Her height was similar to Jeong Yeon-shin's, even though his own limbs had grown considerably longer.
"I must walk north," Jeong Yeon-shin replied vaguely.
The location and movements of a Desolate Fortress Black Rank expert were, by default, top secret.
"You are welcome to return and stay at any time. Su-a will be waiting."
The composure dwelling in her pitch-black eyes perfectly befitted her status as a noble of a martial clan.
To Jeong Yeon-shin, her stone-like eyes were reminiscent of obsidian. Was it a trait inherited from the Gongya Clan Leader, who stood silently behind her?
Among the Shanxi aristocrats, only this father and daughter remained calm.
The others couldn't even meet the eyes of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. Shock and unease, which they failed to hide, were written all over their faces.
"Please, please come back..."
The second young master, Gongya Su, was peeking out from behind the clan leader's back. He seemed more timid than before.
Rather than being wary of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, he seemed embarrassed to step forward. It completely contradicted his fiercely upturned eyes.
"I'll see you soon."
Jeong Yeon-shin gave a half-hearted wave and turned around.
If he failed to find the Jegal Clan Leader, he would have to look into the Gongya Clan. Both duty and propriety dictated that course of action.
His colleagues from the Demonlight Wing would handle the cleanup here.
Having spent a brief moment on this detour, his doubts about his seniors' whereabouts were beginning to deepen.
Whoosh!
As his toes kicked off the ground, the white shockwave of his Ten-Mile Light Grace lightness skill rippled outward.
*
On one side of the martial duel stage, where the crowd was still buzzing, the figure of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing rapidly receded.
In the blink of an eye, he turned into a tiny black dot.
His retreating figure, fading from view, exuded the aura of a powerhouse charging through the wilderness.
His facial features, which had grown sharper as he matured, were also striking.
Even the backdraft left by his lightness skill felt like a divine breeze—at least to some of the commoners.
"They say the Black Rank masters of the Desolate Fortress use lightness skills like the earth-shrinking art..."
"I can't believe it even after seeing it."
"Hey, did you see his face? He's not a human; he must be an immortal."
"Pray for our family to live long! The Ten Symbols of Longevity! Think of the Ten Symbols of Longevity!"
Some of the onlookers even bowed as if facing a mountain god. A few of the local aristocrats watched them with blatant displeasure.
However, they couldn't act as violently as they usually did in their own territories, fearing that the subordinates of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing might still be around.
It was then.
"It seems this has no owner. Perhaps I should take this opportunity to travel the Jianghu and deliver it directly to the owner's family..."
A middle-aged man stepped forward with a dry cough.
He was heading toward the dharma treasure—the pebble that Eon Hwa-ryeon had thrown. It had been blown far away by the aftermath of the fierce battle between the top-tier experts.
It had rolled right near his feet, kicking up a faint puff of dust.
The aristocratic man didn't hide his greed.
His movements, shamelessly cutting through the sharp glares of the crowd, were extraordinary. So was his shimmering blue silk robe.
At a glance, he seemed to hold a dignified status, but his cautious glances toward the distant mountains—the direction in which the Commander of the Demonlight Wing had vanished—betrayed him.
Step, step.
The world's treasures, known as dharma treasures, often had bizarre uses or chose their own masters.
Among them, some said that finders were keepers. Since its owner, Eon Hwa-ryeon, was dead, anyone would covet it.
Whoosh!
The Demonlight Wing experts, who had been watching their commander from afar, charged forward. Their footwork, utilizing the Body Protection Scripture, was incredibly fast.
"A turtle-like bastard showing off his lack of manners in broad daylight! Have you no shame?!"
"He must want to melt and die. My eyes feel like they're rotting."
"Hey! Stop! Hey! There's a limit to splashing dirty water!"
As they unleashed their martial arts, the voices of three people—both male and female—rang out clearly. This meant their control over true qi was fundamentally outstanding.
"How are the martial arts of today's youth so...?"
"W-What is that?"
"Get out of the way! They're coming from behind!"
The surrounding crowd scattered in panic, hastily widening the distance.
A swift yet silent lightness skill charge, heat that distorted the winter air like a midsummer noon, and shockwaves flashing with occasional white light surged violently.
The ownership of the treasure didn't matter. The problem was that a daylight thief was trying to tarnish the end of Jeong Yeon-shin's life-and-death duel.
The Lazy Flame Dragon was overwhelmingly fast.
Whoosh!
With every step he took, Heonwon Chang and Shin So-bin fell behind by two and four steps respectively.
This was because the specialties, ages, physical conditions, and martial achievements of the three were all different.
Right now, the Lazy Flame Dragon, who was executing the Yeojo Heavenly King Scripture with the extreme yang energy of his Solar Divine Pulse, was on the verge of arriving first.
It was a lightness skill technique that only direct descendants of the Hwangbo Clan could learn. Every time his feet struck the ground, white steam rose with a burning smell.
"What are those...?"
Startled by the sight in the distance, the aristocratic man bent his waist anyway.
His hand, reaching for the pebble, was large. Perhaps because he was a powerful figure who held sway in Shanxi, formless energy shimmered between his fingers.
What does duty matter in times of famine? Righteousness and chivalry are dead. The Jianghu is a place where those who can't claim what's theirs die in a ditch.
The middle-aged man smirked.
Though the achievements of those rushing toward him like wild boars caught in a forest fire were surprising, their faces were unfamiliar. They were also far away.
On the other hand, this place, which the Commander of the Demonlight Wing had just departed, was rightfully the territory of the Shanxi aristocrats.
Since the local experts of his homeland were all on his side, there was no reason to be intimidated and avoid the treasure.
I should take this to the Jegal Clan Leader. No matter how strong a Desolate Fortress Black Rank expert is, how could he withstand his wrath? My decision is correct.
The man thought as he reached for the pebble.
Anyone who wasn't completely ignorant of the world knew that the Desolate Fortress was severely short-handed. As long as he had the protection of the Jegal Clan Leader, there was no reason to fear.
If a force of that caliber pursued the tyrannical way like the old Ming Cult, things might have been different, but in the current chaotic Jianghu, it was hard to find a powerhouse who didn't run wild.
"Your lightness skills are quite impressive, but luck is not on your side."
He sneered and grabbed the dharma treasure.
Or so he thought. A sudden cold sensation pierced his palm.
Thud.
When he blinked, a strange object had suddenly appeared. It was a dark blue hilt. No, to be precise, it was the handle of a dagger.
In an instant, the blade had pierced straight through the back of his hand. The delayed shockwave of the strike kicked up a cool gust of wind.
"Aaargh!"
The aristocratic man threw his head back and screamed. An excruciating pain surged through his hand, as if dozens of long needles had sprouted inside it.
He couldn't tell if it was a bizarre application of true qi shockwaves or if the dagger had been coated in poison.
Step.
A sound echoed beside the middle-aged man. Along with the light footsteps, a song rang out clearly.
The lotus reflecting the sword's light is so dazzling,
Yet the dust of the Jianghu remains so thick.
It was a tune that praised the sword of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and the name of Eon Hwa-ryeon, all while trampling upon the dignity of the aristocratic man.
Before anyone knew it, a man had stepped up beside the middle-aged man.
He wore a translucent black bamboo hat, with his lower face wrapped in pitch-black silk.
He had a remarkably high-bridged nose and eyes that anyone would describe as gallant.
Heonwon Chang, who was rushing over with fluid footwork from afar, flinched.
"The Slaying Hero? It's the Slaying Hero of the Midday Moon Great Slaughter Gate!"
"Young master! Please look over here, just once!"
"Hey, Sect Leader Guan! Are you unable to move? I'll head over there right away!"
"You bastard! In whose presence do you dare to strike so outrageously? You act insolently once again!"
The surroundings instantly grew chaotic. It was as if they were reacting to a rare celebrity in this vast land.
While people of all ages and genders wore broad smiles or looked on with admiration, the local aristocrats expressed blatant displeasure and placed their hands on their weapons.
The Slaying Hero did not lose his smile.
"Sect Leader Guan ruined my poetic mood. I was clapping after witnessing a sublime duel, but didn't this fellow act far too outrageously?"
"That judgment is not yours to make!"
"The martial arts tournament must go on. Clan Leader Gi, you still cannot tell heads from tails, I see."
At his response, which feigned politeness, the qi of the aristocrats surged rapidly, accompanied by all kinds of curses.
"You stay right there."
"Do you think our sect stood by and watched your actions because we fear the Midday Moon Great Slaughter Gate?"
As strong winds whipped in all directions, dozens of people began to slowly approach. Their footsteps were loud, driven by ferocious internal power.
Rather than trying to punish an insolent rising star, they seemed to be eyeing the pebble at the Slaying Hero's feet.
"Dumbasses," the Slaying Hero muttered indifferently.
He tapped the hilt of the long sword at his waist with his index finger. Even that small gesture was strangely stylish.
By then, the Demonlight Wing experts had taken up positions on one side of the stage.
The Lazy Flame Dragon stared blankly at the Slaying Hero.
"Who is that guy? He looks familiar."
"..."
Heonwon Chang didn't answer. He merely glanced at the Slaying Hero with a heavy, somber expression.
Seeing him unusually subdued, Shin So-bin, who stood with her arms crossed confidently, tilted her head.
"He looks a bit older. Is he the older brother of Senior Great Tongue Sword?"
"...Something like that."
At his quiet murmur, the Lazy Flame Dragon shook his head.
"Whatever. I should roast these aristocratic bastards first. That guy who's 'something like a brother' doesn't seem to have any intention of picking up the dharma treasure anyway."
The Slaying Hero and the powerful families of Shanxi.
Even though some aristocrats, including the Gongya Clan, tried to stop them, they wouldn't listen. It was a standoff on the verge of exploding.
Like a thunderbolt bomb on the verge of detonating, overlapping waves of qi from all directions shook the ruined stage once again.
Rumble— Thud—
"This won't be easy..."
It was just as Shin So-bin cracked her knuckles, bringing her fists together.
[Reveal the whereabouts of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.]
The voice echoed from high in the sky.
Along with the woman's somewhat husky voice, the sunlight was blocked out. For a moment, it felt as if a solar eclipse had occurred.
But it had not.
A woman, standing with both feet upon a sword, was looking down at them.
While the grey sleeves wrapping her hands fluttered loftily, her hair, falling to her nape, swayed with a half-white luster.
From her ash-colored robe and short hair, an incredibly dense internal power radiated in thick strands.
Sword flight.
The eyes of the Demonlight Wing experts widened.
"Sword Saint, Baek Seo-gun...!"
At Heonwon Chang's low, groaning murmur, the crowd fell into utter chaos.
The experts of the Thirteen Heavens were regarded as living monsters. This was even more true for the second-in-command of the Deep Martial Alliance.
As the qi of the aristocrats instantly withered away, the Slaying Hero's pitch-black eyes stared up at Baek Seo-gun.
It was as if his eyes held pitch-black lightning. It was the keen observation of a supreme assassin utilizing an eye technique.
In an instant, he scrutinized every detail of Baek Seo-gun's expression, not missing her slightly lowered eyebrows, her faintly furrowed brow, or the temperament radiating from her eyes.
This continued until she turned her head to look down at the Demonlight Wing experts.
Soon, the Slaying Hero's eyes curved into thin crescents.
"He went that way, and I believe this dharma treasure now belongs to the Commander of the Demonlight Wing."
After gesturing with his eyes toward the pebble lying below, he raised an exceptionally long finger to point in the direction Jeong Yeon-shin had flown.
His tone was highly archaic, as if mocking the aristocrats.