Chapter 304: Lotus Nezha (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 304: Lotus Nezha (3)
A shockwave shaped like flower petals bloomed in the air.
Shimmering translucently, it brushed past the Jegal Clan Leader’s face before dissipating.
Sssss—
Jeong Yeon-shin felt the power of Spirit surging like a tidal wave within him. It was the result of completely shattering all ten strands of the Jegal Clan Leader’s Male-Female Divine Whip.
With the mystical power of his Upper Dantian—one of the three pillars of Essence, Qi, and Spirit—enveloping his entire body, his internal energy now moved at the speed of thought. It was as if he had finally put on clothes that fit him perfectly.
He had stepped into an entirely different world.
[Ink-Scale Command...!]
Dismay colored the Jegal Clan Leader’s cry as black mist swirled around his feet. He had leaped backward the very instant he witnessed Yeon-shin’s world-shaking Fa Jin.
As a sorcerer, he was a master of maintaining distance. His pure white robes fluttered violently with a loud, chaotic rustle, as if a tempest had taken root in their hem. All traces of the close-quarters martial arts he had displayed earlier vanished.
The surrounding crowd was stunned by this alone. The expressions of the experts, their eyes gleaming with the light of their various techniques, twisted with shock and disbelief.
Yet, sacrificing his pride had bought the peerless expert a crucial advantage.
Whoosh!
His evasive footwork was incredibly fast. Before one could even blink, the Jegal Clan Leader had retreated thirty feet.
His lips formed the syllable 'Hong' (宏). A peerless expert of sorcery martial arts, poised for a decisive battle, would use even a split-second gap to ready a devastating strike. For him, that strike was the Booming Thunder—the very technique that had incapacitated the Commander of the Bloodkeeper Unit.
Thud.
Landing amidst the fragments of the White Crane Fan, Jeong Yeon-shin bent his knees slightly.
He didn't seem to straighten them at all. The moment his figure vanished from the spot, a deafening roar tore through the courtyard.
Craaaack—!
The earth was gouged open, turning over to reveal its reddish-yellow depths. It looked as if the massive body of a dragon had swept through. Steam, generated by the sheer friction, rose to shroud the sky and dim the sun.
Immediately after the Northern Light Sword struck the Jegal Clan Leader’s Body Protection Qi dead-on, Jeong Yeon-shin—now standing right beside the disheveled man—unleashed his Second Form with an upward strike of his left hand.
It was aimed at the man’s chest. Space warped and bent along the path of his hand as it thrust out from his pierced shoulder.
The moment the Brilliant River palm force, churning with spiral shockwaves, dug into the Jegal Clan Leader’s collar, a violent explosion erupted, spewing flesh and blood. The shattered, colorless fragments of his Body Protection Qi, torn to shreds, mingled with the gore an instant too late.
Splat!
The sound of the strike echoed only after the blow had landed. The tide of battle had turned completely.
Blown backward into the air, the Jegal Clan Leader’s eyes widened in sheer horror.
'This bastard... he read the True Qi structure of my Body Protection Qi...!'
It wasn't a blind, brute-force attack. The spiraling shockwaves of the Brilliant River had surged in like water filling the microscopic gaps in his Body Protection Qi before detonating—a move designed to utterly dismantle his internal energy barrier.
This was different from before, when Yeon-shin couldn't match his speed. The full prowess of Flash Art, Commander of the Demonlight Wing, was now on terrifying display.
He should never have allowed him to close the distance.
In this world, there were as many combat styles as there were martial lineages. Yet, in his eagerness to slit the throat of the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress, he, a practitioner of sorcery martial arts, had stepped right into the effective range of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
It was a fatal misstep, especially in a fight between masters where a single blow was more than enough to claim a life. Had he kept his distance, the battle would never have unfolded this way.
Whoooooosh!
Their bodies soared thirty feet into the air, momentarily suspended. The howling wind buffeting their ears felt like a breeze from another world.
Beneath Jeong Yeon-shin’s feet as he clung to the Jegal Clan Leader, a faint white light flickered and warped. His Lightness Skill, Ten-Mile Light Grace, would never allow his opponent to escape. Neither would his innate combat instincts.
[Nine Clouds Blazing Crown...!]
"Too late."
The Northern Light Sword, drenched in the blood of its battered master, swept upward. The blade seemed to drift along a different axis of time, wrapping the swift shockwaves of Qilin’s Judgment in a hazy, colorless aura. From his arm, the energy waves of the Brilliant River erupted as propulsion.
The sword’s trajectory vanished abruptly as it soared, only to reappear at the Jegal Clan Leader’s abdomen, where his Body Protection Qi was desperately trying to reform. A shockwave then rippled like fire along Jeong Yeon-shin’s forearm, unleashing a prolonged, deafening roar.
Crash! Boom-boom-boom—!
Colorless currents of energy dispersed from the Jegal Clan Leader’s body. With a single blow, his entire Body Protection Qi was shattered. The sword strike penetrated deep into his organs and sliced through his dantian—a level of precision that bordered on the sublime.
The two of them fell slowly.
Jeong Yeon-shin descended with his sword pointed downward, his tattered black robes fluttering. The Jegal Clan Leader simply plummeted, unable to control his body.
Thud.
A dull sound echoed. Sprawled spread-eagled on the ground, the peerlessly handsome man let out a groan.
Landing beside him, Jeong Yeon-shin flicked the Northern Light Sword, spraying blood onto the ground. The sound rang out with striking clarity in the sudden silence of the courtyard.
"..."
Silence fell over the crowd—a stillness of an entirely different caliber than before. They seemed completely frozen. None of the experts watching the life-and-death duel dared to open their mouths.
The man who had established himself as the absolute ruler of Shanxi now lay at the feet of Flash Art, Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
"Pant, pant...!"
The Six Harmonies Sound Transmission, which had feigned a divine aura, was broken. A raw, physical voice escaped the absolute master’s mouth. It wasn't even coherent speech, only sharp, ragged gasps.
There were countless titles that symbolized his standing: the Reincarnated Crouching Dragon, the cold-blooded peerless expert, the founder of the Martial World Alliance, the incarnation of the sorcery formation that contained the entirety of the Jegal Clan within his body.
Because of this, the scene unfolding before their eyes felt utterly surreal. It took several long breaths for the reality to sink in. It was a scene that had to be seen to be believed, and even then, it felt unreal.
And then, a wave of shock, growing larger by the second, swept through the courtyard.
"The Reincarnated Crouching Dragon, the Jegal Clan Leader...?"
"How is that possible? At his age..."
"We might be looking at the future Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. No, it’s already certain, no matter how many years it takes. More importantly... the couriers! The messenger pigeons! We must rewrite everything! Our clan must not act rashly!"
The local aristocrats, dressed in pristine silk robes, began to stir in a frenzy. They searched for messenger pigeons, summoned horses, and called for their men. Some carefully drew spirit beasts that could understand human speech from their robes. These were opportunists who knew how to survive in a world ruled by transcendent experts.
The dignity they usually projected before the common folk had vanished without a trace. Such was the ecology of the Martial World, ruled by the law of the jungle. Despite possessing an elegance befitting their aristocratic status, the Shanxi nobles could not hide their emotions. Astonishment filled their eyes as they looked back and forth between the sprawled Jegal Clan Leader and the silently standing Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Whew—
Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin examined his body as if in meditation. He needed to fully master the method of Upper Dantian coordination he had just acquired.
'I can't let this be a one-time thing. It can't be something that activates by luck; I must be able to wield it whenever I face a peerless expert.'
And so he would.
It was said that the ultimate harmony of the Upper Dantian was no different from sorcery.
The Fan Dragon Lotus Art.
It had clearly transcended the realm of forms. It was a technique whose underlying principles were difficult to grasp, even for him, its creator. It was perfected by using his highly sensitive senses to mystically scan, feel, and control his energy and physical body. It was just like the Male-Female Divine Whip wielded by the Jegal Clan Leader, possessing an unrealistic, divine quality.
It felt as though he had woven the functions of his Upper Dantian—which had randomly manifested foresight and premonitions since his days as a White-Ranked warrior—into his martial arts. The body that fully accepted this was also strange. Was the Jeong Family Dynamic Art he had scribbled down as a child some kind of Dharma Treasure? Just like the pebble vibrating faintly in his robes.
'Though sensing the state of Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak is simple enough.'
It was a harmony created by the trinity of the Upper Dantian, the body, and the senses. He had forged his innate talent to its absolute limit, and now he had reached a realm that blurred the boundary between sorcery and martial arts. He felt closer to the Blue Flame his maternal grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok, had once shown him.
He no longer had to run from peerless experts. Jeong Yeon-shin realized this with absolute certainty. He felt he could activate the Fan Dragon Lotus Art at any moment. This realization came alongside the sensation of the spirituality in the Jegal Clan Leader’s Upper Dantian flickering out like a dying candle. The man lay at his feet, staring blankly as his strength ebbed away.
'The side effects are the problem, though.'
It was slightly different from when he unleashed the Azure Flame First Form, the ultimate technique of the Lightning-Flash Sword Ridge Style. Instead of his body, it felt as if his mind were turning to mush. Though the backlash was incredibly mild for a technique that bordered on defying heaven, it was not a martial art he could perform consecutively.
It was then.
"It's the peerless realm."
A whisper tickled the back of his neck. It was Ak Su-rim. When a startled Jeong Yeon-shin took two steps back, she offered him a bright grin.
"The Commander's Dragon Ring Sword, Jegal Gyeon's Male-Female Divine Whip... none of them seem to belong to the harmony of this world. They are techniques beyond human comprehension. And your martial arts have just entered that realm."
She seemed to have sensed his energy wave. As the Jegal Clan Leader’s life force faded, Yeon-shin’s own energy was growing faint. It was a decisive art meant for battles against peerless experts, allowing him to step upon their lotus platforms and clash with them on equal footing. Though the principles behind it were complex, its purpose was singular.
"Good work. Finish it."
A cold voice rang out nearby as a faint wave of internal power dispersed from Jeong Yeon-shin’s collar. It was the Commander of the Bloodkeeper Unit, Jin Myeong-jo, speaking from a distance through the subtle art of voice transmission. Perhaps he wished to yield the entire glory to his junior. Standing wrapped in his black robes, completely detached from the battlefield, he looked incredibly noble as the moonlight shattered against his figure.
After offering a brief, respectful bow in response, Jeong Yeon-shin looked down.
The Jegal Clan Leader, lying in the wretched state of a defeated man, was trembling. Though his body twitched as he repeatedly tried to push himself up, he could not rise. Blood seemed to be pooling in his throat, for his voice broke intermittently.
"You... you bastard...!"
"There is something I want to ask."
"I... was not wrong. With your tiny mind... you could never comprehend it. But... for the sake of the world, the Lord of the Desolate Fortress must die. My entire life was dedicated to that purpose."
"Why did you kill Seon-ryong? He was your son, wasn't he?"
The Jegal Clan Leader’s rambling stopped abruptly. He stared blankly at Jeong Yeon-shin with unfocused eyes, then forced his trembling lips to move.
"You are speaking of the world with me now. A son? What... absurd nonsense."
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent.
A sudden gust of wind blew past, dryly rustling his hair. He did not bother to brush away the strands obscuring his eyes. He merely wondered: What does a child mean to a father?
Soon, all emotion vanished from the eyes of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. The gaze he cast down upon his once-formidable opponent lost all interest. His face took on an expression akin to looking at a pebble on the side of the road.
It was a defense mechanism, born of his own failure to ever win a father’s love.
Yet, the Jegal Clan Leader glared as if he had received a devastating shock. His eyelids, which had always drooped with elegant poise, flew wide open and trembled violently.
"You...!"
This was an expression his final opponent should never have made. At this moment, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing was the most significant being in the Jegal Clan Leader’s world.
It was said that the peerless experts of the Jianghu were madmen obsessed with martial arts. The Clan Leader was no different. His entire life was woven with martial prowess, spent pitting his skills against other local aristocrats. The character of a man who committed acts akin to the Heterodox Path could not possibly be ordinary. He was impervious to pain, burying even the death of his own child beneath his self-proclaimed grand cause.
The Reincarnated Crouching Dragon, Jegal Cheon-sang.
His handsome face contorted hideously.
Had his opponent tortured him or demanded an accounting of his sins, he would have closed his eyes with a sneer. Instead, the sheer indifference on his foe’s face seemed to inflict upon him an eternity of shame and agony.
"No... this cannot be," the martial artist Jegal Cheon-sang stammered. "You... you must not look at me like that...!"
The face of the adversary at my end should not look like that—
Draped in the bleak, pale moonlight, Jeong Yeon-shin’s face was dreamily beautiful, yet utterly indifferent. The same was true of the veins and muscles visible through the tears in his tattered sleeves. It was as if his mind and body were forged entirely of swords.
Gasp—! Gasp—!
Jegal Cheon-sang’s breathing grew erratically rapid. Could there be a more miserable end for a man who had lived with such supreme loftiness?
"Go now."
The blood-stained blade of the Northern Light Sword touched Jegal Cheon-sang’s neck. The onlookers held their breath. A death that would bring a cataclysmic shift to the Jianghu was moments away.
Just then—
—The Five Military Commissions! Make way for the Assistant Military Commander!
A booming voice rang out as if on cue, announcing an official title no one in the world would dare to falsely claim. It came from the main gate of the manor. The soundwaves carried an incredible internal energy, yet the sheer weight of the announcement was far more devastating as it swept through the courtyard. A figure of the junior first rank, who oversaw the military administration of the entire empire, had suddenly arrived. It was as if he had come to halt the execution.
"The Assistant Military Commander?!"
"What is the meaning of this...?"
"Quiet! Bow your heads!"
The crowd fell into a frenzy. The local aristocrats and officials were bound together by the interests of agricultural lands. Why else would the martial sects, who slaughtered people as easily as breathing, be able to establish themselves so openly along the official roads? The Non-Interference between Government and Martial World was a concept that applied only to rogue vagabonds; the martial clans and high-ranking officials shared an inseparable bond.
That was why, at this very moment, people began dropping to their knees one after another.
Rustle.
The sound of robes brushing against the ground filled the air. A being who held the lifeblood of their clans' interests in his hands was arriving.
Amidst it all, the Unit Commanders of the Desolate Fortress did not kneel. Ak Su-rim and Jin Myeong-jo kept their eyes on their youngest, while Jeong Yeon-shin stared down at the Jegal Clan Leader. The martial artist Jegal Cheon-sang looked up at Jeong Yeon-shin, his face painted with shame and agony.
The sword resting against his neck did not budge.
"There is no way... a bastard like you would hesitate..."
Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer.
Hummm.
A pure white sword light flared from his right hand.
The blade of the Northern Light Sword bit deep into Jegal Cheon-sang’s neck with a sharp slash. In the next instant, as the blade swept upward, a long trail of crimson blood splattered into the air. The sensation traveling up the hilt was heavy. The head had been completely severed.
Thud.
The head rolled away, coming to a halt against a small pebble. Jegal Cheon-sang’s face, with its furrowed brow, looked utterly tormented, as if his soul had plunged into hell, consumed by his resentment toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
"You knew," Jeong Yeon-shin murmured calmly to the corpse.