Chapter 300: Lotus (19)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 300: Lotus (19)
Beneath a sky where a spirit beast glided on white wings, connecting the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and Serene Deep Eye Jegal Cheong-a, stood a manor composed of dozens of pavilions.
The Gongya Clan.
Its once-prestigious name had fallen from grace among the aristocrats of Shanxi.
The rogue wanderer Geom Un-bi had been revealed as the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress. For having treated him as an honored guest, the Gongya Clan became a target of condemnation by their fellow martial artists in the Jianghu.
The Gongya Clan Leader, once a revered figure, was no longer invited to the banquets of sect leaders. The clan’s eldest daughter, who had claimed the titles of both Chivalrous Dragon and Sword Phoenix at the Shanxi Dragon-Phoenix Gathering, was now despised by the region's rising stars.
A family that had turned its back on the Jianghu.
Traitors who had brought in the Desolate Fortress.
Pleading ignorance didn't work. In truth, anyone with a shred of discernment already knew the truth. They simply needed an excuse to drag down the Gongya Clan’s influence.
With powerful sects carving up the lands of Shanxi like feudal lords, the fertile territory held by the Gongya Clan was a prime target of their greed.
Hosting this martial arts tournament was the only thing allowing them to save face. The Gongya Clan’s manor served as the base, and they had to be content with at least that much. If they were to be completely excluded from the gatherings where local powers forged their ties, the Gongya Clan would instantly transform from a member of the wolf pack into a mere piece of meat.
“They should be grateful! We still let them join even after their betrayal!”
Step.
A giant of a man with a flushed face shouted, a liquor bottle in hand. He swaggered through the wide alleys with a broad, splay-footed stride. Heavily drunk, he stumbled around the Gongya Clan's manor as if it were his own home.
“This alcohol tastes foul! Is it because a traitor brewed it? Or are their hands just filthy?!”
Every time he bellowed, the winter-bare bushes trembled. Dust that had settled on the walls occasionally billowed into a faint haze.
“What a powerful voice. Blood will tell, I suppose. He has the makings of a general.”
“Wasn’t his father that Gwi Clan Leader? I heard he fled the front lines with all the wealth he amassed as a grand general.”
“He must have eaten spirit medicine like it was rice.”
“His internal energy has finally found a use. What a heartwarming sight.”
None of the aristocratic guests passing through the manor stopped Gwi Il-tae. They only watched with interest from afar or passed by in silence. The Gongya Clan was a beehive full of honey; why stop a fatherless scoundrel from tearing away the fragile shell of dignity they so desperately clung to?
“The Commander of the Demonlight Wing, protected by that bastard Slaying Hero! Tell the Commander of the Demonlight Wing to come out! Gongya Clan, you who hid him, do not ignore this young master's command! Bring out those lowborns from the Midday Moon Great Slaughter Gate! The Commander of the Demonlight Wing! He’s the key!”
The stench of alcohol wafted from his bitter tirade. It was a useless mixture: the certainty that the Commander wouldn't dare show his face here, where the Jegal Clan Leader might appear at any moment; the fear evoked by the Commander’s identity and martial prowess; and the anger at feeling a fear so unbecoming of an aristocrat.
The Gongya Clan could do nothing to stop Gwi Il-tae's outrageous behavior. Whenever one of their own lost their patience and tried to step forward, a visiting aristocrat would stop them with a condescending yet gentle persuasion.
“That man lost his father. If we don’t let him vent his grief, there’s no telling what he might do to the commoners in the future.”
“You know of his birth, do you not?”
This had been repeating for days. The Gongya Clan Leader was constantly shadowed by sect leaders of equal standing. In a world where even peerless experts could die from a coordinated attack, the Gongya Clan, infiltrated by other aristocrats, could not function properly.
Hooo—
On the roof of a pavilion overlooking Gwi Il-tae's drunken antics, a swordswoman with a greatsword strapped to her back stood on the tiles, letting out a thin breath. Her blade-sharp eyes and scarlet silk martial uniform suited her perfectly, but the hand gripping her sword hilt only bulged with blue veins, unable to draw the weapon.
She no longer feared showing herself to the world; in fact, she wished for nothing more than to step into the tournament and draw her sword. But according to the law of the jungle, the Gongya Clan was slowly ceasing to be their own.
Young Clan Leader Gongya Jeong.
Glancing at her from the side, Jegal Cheong-a swept her long, lusterless hair behind her neck. Following Jegal Hyeon's death, Jeong Yeon-shin had asked her to look after the Gongya Clan, which was why she was staying here. She had formed a bond with Gongya Jeong, seeing her own late brother in the young woman, and now hid her identity as the sole remaining successor of the Jegal Clan.
“The distinctions between orthodox, unorthodox, and demonic are fading.”
“I do not understand what you mean,” Gongya Jeong replied politely. Despite suffering this plight because of the Desolate Fortress, she did not mistreat Jegal Cheong-a. She suppressed all her anger for the sole reason that Jegal Cheong-a had learned the sword from Jeong Yeon-shin. It was the steadfast attitude of a true martial artist.
Jegal Cheong-a spoke to her with respect. “The long-standing divisions of the Murim are vanishing in the face of famine. Taking wealth by force is becoming the norm. Traveling the Jianghu with Young Master Jeong made me realize it. Most martial artists are trash.”
In truth, she had known this since childhood, ever since her father had led her by the hand to examine the traces of martial forms left on corpses, using her unique eye technique.
Slide.
Jegal Cheong-a rubbed her leather shoes, lined with white silk, against the roof tiles.
“If you make a move, I can help you. The Commander will permit it as well.”
“…Only illustrious figures have gathered here. The Goga Sword Sect, the Water-Moon Sect, the Azure Sky Gang… Sects that act like the Eight Families or the Thirteen Heavens in other provinces are all here. Our clan would have to contemplate death before even drawing our swords. Survival is a greater issue than their insolence.”
Gongya Jeong slowly released her grip on the sword hilt. Her long fingers, characteristic of a talented swordswoman, brushed down the handle.
“I know you are an expert from the Demonlight Wing, but I cannot drag you into a meaningless death. Moreover, the Goga Sword Sect and the Azure Sky Gang have brought nearly all their disciples. They are seriously planning to empty our storehouses… The number of experts on our side simply doesn’t match theirs.”
“I don’t mind what happens to me.”
Jegal Cheong-a's clear gaze drifted toward the distant mountains. The range where her brother was buried was barren, devoid of grass, clinging to the last vestiges of winter under a blanket of pure white snow. Spring could only come once winter had passed.
“May I ask about your Commander?” the eldest daughter asked suddenly.
Jegal Cheong-a's small head nodded readily. “I will answer what I can.”
“Is he truly planning to fight the Jegal Clan Leader? Is the Reincarnated Crouching Dragon not considered one of the supreme masters of the Jianghu?”
“…He is.”
“And even though the Jegal Clan Leader was expelled from the Martial World Alliance, he left completely unscathed, did he not? The Alliance was formed to overthrow the Desolate Fortress, only to have its shameful secrets exposed by an expert from that very fortress. Even if those whose weaknesses he held became his shield… it is still difficult to understand. An expelled disciple is supposed to be severely punished. Why wasn't he?”
“Because he is transcendentally powerful. Powerful enough to benefit greatly from that shield.”
“Exactly. No matter how powerful the Commander of the Demonlight Wing may be, he stands no chance of winning right now… I understand his age is similar to my younger brother's. His opponent is one of the Eight Great Family Leaders.”
If the Jegal Clan Leader were to die, the Gongya Clan’s situation would inevitably change. The influence of the Desolate Fortress would spread throughout Shanxi, which was practically a wasteland for great sects. Even without stationing martial artists there, the death of an absolute master alone would bring about such a result. Such was the logic of the Jianghu. When that time came, the Gongya Clan would rise again, as their current humiliation stemmed from their ties to the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
“……”
Jegal Cheong-a fell silent for a moment. She simply pressed down firmly with the foot she had been rubbing against the tiles, then suddenly raised her hand and pointed far below.
“Speaking of your brother…”
“Hm?”
“Is that him?”
The manors of powerful aristocrats were built like imperial palaces. On one side of a wall that stretched toward the banquet hall, a young noble with sharp eyes like his sister’s was blocking Gwi Il-tae. It was Second Young Master Gongya Su.
“Stop using the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and the Slaying Hero as an excuse to run amok! It’s hideous and incredibly pathetic! We weren’t the ones who sent the Gwi Clan Leader to his grave!”
The Second Young Master's red martial uniform trembled with uncontrollable rage. Gongya Su continued fiercely, “You’re just a scoundrel who wouldn’t dare let out a squeak if you were actually facing the Commander of the Demonlight Wing!”
“Bwahahaha!” Gwi Il-tae laughed boisterously. “Gongya Su, you bastard! I didn’t know you’d grown such massive guts!”
His voice rumbled, deep and cavernous, spreading far and wide with a wild, hearty energy. He had already drawn the attention of the guests, but now onlookers anticipating a fight used their movement arts to leap over the walls or take up positions on top of them. It was a chaotic feast, a spectacle governed by the law of the jungle.
Gwi Il-tae looked around grandly as if welcoming them, then fixed his gaze on Gongya Su. “So, where is that noble Commander of the Demonlight Wing right now?”
“……”
“Let me guess.” The thick lips of Heaven-Roaring Mad Blade Gwi Il-tae twisted into a sneer. He suddenly spread his arms wide. “I'll bet my Shaoxing wine that the Commander of the Demonlight Wing has run away, too terrified to face the Jegal Clan Leader! It's not like that bastard is some Purple Rank absolute master!”
Waaaaah!
“His eloquence is worthless, but his voice is indeed the greatest in Shanxi!”
In a world with few sources of entertainment, this was a prime event. A heavily bearded middle-aged man clapped from among the crowd. It was the Leader of the Azure Sky Gang, a renowned local power. A profound internal energy rose with his movements, sending a faint steam rising from between his hands. Seeing this, the people around him followed suit and began to clap.
It was then.
At the very spot where the Leader of the Azure Sky Gang stood.
Flash—
An opaque pillar of light connected heaven and earth. Without warning, the thick, manifested beam vanished into thin air. Where it had struck, the limbs of those whose bodies had been erased lay scattered haphazardly on the ground.
“Uh…?”
“What… what just happened?”
The martial artists in the courtyard wore blank expressions, unable to comprehend the scene as the result of an attack.
From afar, Gongya Jeong and Jegal Cheong-a, who had been leaping across the roofs, came to a sudden halt.
[An aristocrat must not be frivolous.]
The Six Harmonies Sound Transmission rang out, divine and clear as a melody.
And then.
Hum—
Descending through the clouds, the hem of a pure white robe fluttered grandly, like an elegant crane spreading its wings.
[So you were here. A pack of bats, weighing the Wolseong Sect against the Desolate Fortress.]
A man hovered in midair. His sleeves, billowing in the high-altitude winds, suited him strangely well. He was peerlessly handsome, the contours of his face alone enough to be called beautiful. He exuded a transcendent aura.
He wore a pitch-black bamboo hat, and the translucent veil that flowed down from its wide brim gave the impression of a king's crown. His slender jawline was the very definition of noble.
“Void Treading…?”
“It's the Jegal Clan Leader!”
A commotion rippled through the crowd like a wave. As they stirred, several people stepped forward to stand beside the frozen Gwi Il-tae.
“We pay our respects to the Lord of the Wolseong Sect, the Reincarnated Crouching Dragon. I am the leader of the Goga Sword Sect.”
“Jegal Clan Leader, why did you not grace the Water-Moon Sect with your presence instead…?”
They were a middle-aged man and woman: the Goga Sword Sect Leader and the Lord of the Water-Moon Sect. They were figures of equal standing to the master of this manor, the effective leaders of the Shanxi aristocrats. The crimson and yellow hems of their robes swept the ground, a clear sign of their peerless status and the noble dignity they carried wherever they went.
Wuuuung—
The auras enveloping the two of them rippled through the air, resisting the Jegal Clan Leader's world-dominating presence.
A soft snort escaped him.
[Kneel,] he said.
* * *
The smoke filling the winter sky was an exceptionally dark shade of gray.
The Gongya Clan's manor had been reduced to ruins.
It had all happened while onlookers were still gathering for Gwi Il-tae's drunken spectacle. Martial artists who hadn't witnessed the end of the Azure Sky Gang Leader dared to challenge the name of the Reincarnated Crouching Dragon. They had just watched their masters, martial aunts, and senior brothers and sisters kneel and bow their heads.
The local aristocrats of the Murim were those who acted like royalty in their own regions. They had never experienced the wider world, and they dismissed the profound techniques of rogue wanderers as mere sorcery.
A large number of them leaped toward the Jegal Clan Leader, only to have their heads severed by a freezing wind that blew in like a massive tidal wave. Others were sliced cleanly in half at the waist.
No martial artist could stand idly by and watch their disciples' blood spray like mist. The leaders of the Shanxi aristocrats, who had been kneeling while suppressing the hot blood boiling from their powerful martial arts, finally drew their weapons.
And now.
Claaang—! Crash!
The Lord of the Water-Moon Sect, clad in a red robe, was sent flying, smashing through two pavilions. The shockwave from the impact gouged the earth with a harsh, grating roar. Blood, violently coughed up, mixed with the white light of her shattered body protection qi.
“Kehh…! Ugh…”
Beside her lay a corpse missing its lower half, eyes closed forever. It was the Goga Sword Sect Leader, who had launched a joint attack with her.
[Lord of the Water-Moon Sect. You have been blocked by the wall of the Unity of Essence, Qi, and Spirit. At that level, you could indeed be called the greatest expert of Shanxi. Since the greatest in Huguang is the Lord of the Desolate Fortress and the greatest in Henan is the Shaolin Abbot, your position is highly exalted.]
The mockingly laced Six Harmonies Sound Transmission echoed from afar, a clear statement of contempt for the entire Shanxi Murim. Rumbling like the muttering of a god, his voice now carried a terrifying dread.
“Even after you killed my disciples…”
[Come under the banner of the Wolseong Sect. I shall place you at the vanguard of an elite group that will reclaim the freedom of the Murim and the Jianghu.]
“If you had coaxed us gently, we might have followed you…!”
[A scoundrel cannot be a local aristocrat. Nor can those without mettle. How can I show mercy to those who did nothing but weigh their options after hearing my grand cause? Especially when we must face the Desolate Fortress in the future.]
“You bastard!”
Slash—
A colorless tangle of threads sprouted from nowhere, slitting her throat. The Lord of the Water-Moon Sect's wrinkled lips twitched, and the focus vanished from her eyes.
Back at the spot where she had been standing, silence descended upon the open space where Gwi Il-tae and Gongya Su had faced off.
It was both freezing and burning hot.
The hundreds of guests who had come for the tournament stood in silence. The same went for those who had arrived late. Though the breeze carried the crisp chill of winter, the air in the ruined manor sizzled with the scent of scorched masonry—the aftermath of an absolute strike.
[I am your aspiration.]
Snap.
Standing in midair, the Jegal Clan Leader spread his fan wide. Behind him sat the Gongya Clan Leader, his crimson robe torn to shreds, his head bowed in unconsciousness. With tearful eyes, his daughter and son massaged his body, performing acupoint clearing.
The crowd seemed to have lost their voices. With the prominent local powers gathered in one place, it was as if the entire Shanxi Murim had been conquered by a single man. A hemispherical, translucent barrier enclosing the vast manor confirmed it: this was the Jegal Clan Leader's absolute domain.
Rustle—
“My Lord. This humble servant has eagerly awaited you.”
It was Gwi Il-tae, prostrating himself with a feigned elegance.
Step.
A black leather shoe stepped heavily right in front of his bowing head. The sound of sand grinding against the dirt was chillingly sharp.
The moment he raised his head, a single character entered his vision.
Desolate (荒).
“Crazy—!”
Before he could finish his curse, Gwi Il-tae's head was crushed underfoot. The squelch of wet blood accompanied the sickening crunch of a fracturing skull, yet no one spared a glance at the corpse.
Suddenly, three people appeared.
The Jegal Clan Leader's aura was pressed back from three sides, forced to retreat. Three figures, each draped in pitch-black robes, carved sharp silhouettes against the bright, moonlit night.
The moonlight rested on the face of one youth, and compared to him, all else seemed to lose its color.
Flash Art, Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Moonlight rippled through his hair as it swayed with his steps. Jeong Yeon-shin's pitch-black sleeves fluttered in the wind.
Sring.
Moonlight shattered over the elegantly drawn blade.
The eyes of every martial artist present widened in sheer disbelief, captivated by the unfolding spectacle. The elegant blade held by the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, originally a flawless, pure white that mirrored the moon above, began to undergo a mesmerizing transformation. A deep, ethereal blue bled into the steel. As this brilliant azure hue took hold, an auspicious wave of profound energy rippled outward from the edge of the blade. It was a sublime yet terrifying force, and the moment it manifested, the oppressive, suffocating domain established by the Jegal Clan Leader shuddered violently, its absolute control fracturing all at once under the sudden pressure.
Rumble—
The heavy, suffocating silence that had fallen over the battlefield did not last long. Moving with perfect, lethal synchronization, the three Unit Commanders of the Desolate Fortress's Divine Sword Corps took a single, deliberate step forward.
Step.
It was just one collective footstep, yet it echoed with deafening clarity through the tense quiet of the night, striking the earth like a war drum. Fine dust plumed upward, swirling ominously along the dark hems of their trousers as their boots met the ground.
The sheer intensity of the martial power radiating from them was palpable. The explosive surge of internal energy rapidly circulating and warming up the meridians throughout their bodies was so swift, so unfathomably fierce, that it manifested into the physical realm. An invisible, crushing aura erupted from their forms, violently sweeping away the rising dust and grinding the very air around them into a heavy, suffocating pressure.
[I have been waiting. Are you sufficiently prepared?]
The voice transmission cut through the tension, dripping with an eerie, composed amusement. Slowly, elegantly, the Jegal Clan Leader raised a meticulously crafted fan to cover the lower half of his face. From behind the painted silk, a low, echoing chuckle slipped out, a sound that sent a chilling shiver down the spines of everyone who heard it.
Swoosh—
The surrounding atmosphere began to visibly warp and distort, utterly unable to withstand the sheer, terrifying weight of the combined auras pressing down upon it. The overwhelming presence of the Vice Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, the Commander of the Bloodkeeper Unit, and the Commander of the Demonlight Wing caused the very air to fluctuate hazily, bending the moonlight into strange, rippling mirages. Drawn by this heaven-shaking display of martial might, the chaotic retreat of the surrounding crowds began to falter. One by one, the number of people who stopped fleeing in all directions to look back over their shoulders gradually increased, their survival instincts warring with their desperate need to witness history.
Standing against each other were titans of the martial world: the absolute leader of one of the prestigious Eight Great Families, directly facing down the elite Unit Commanders of the dreaded Desolate Fortress. It was an astonishing, once-in-a-lifetime confrontation that defied all common sense. The sheer scale of the power gathered in this single courtyard meant that a truly monumental situation was at stake, one that could very well shift the balance of power across the entire martial world.
“…….”
No further words were spoken. The atmosphere rapidly grew bleak, heavy with the metallic scent of impending bloodshed and the suffocating weight of killing intent. A dry, desolate wind swept through the tense silence, harshly brushing past the fluttering pitch-black robes of the Desolate Fortress commanders. In that frozen, breathless moment, time itself seemed to stand still.
The entirety of the Jianghu watched them.