Chapter 305: Lotus Nezha (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 305: Lotus Nezha (4)
It was a plain of dying crops.
Boom!
Beneath the harsh sunlight beating down on the pure white snow, flashes of crimson and ash clashed and scattered in a relentless blur.
The snowy ground churned endlessly, torn apart by the shattering shockwaves.
These were supreme masters capable of crossing vast distances in a single bound. No sooner were they flung back dozens of jang by the recoil than they instantly collided again, repeating the vicious cycle.
It was a dazzling spectacle. The palm shadows of the Blood Shadow Rakshasa Hands tangled with the sword kinesis of the Eight Illusion Divine Art, their trajectories intertwining in a dizzying frenzy of hands and blades.
Clang—!
Sparks flew across the Seventh Apostle's black blindfold, its surface embroidered with fine gold thread.
It happened the moment her pale hand snatched the bare blade of the sword.
Her hair whipped wildly in the shockwave of the sword kinesis, howling like a monstrous gale. The divine sword, caught firmly in her grasp, was slowly being forced toward her chest.
"They say the Blood Flame Cult Leader bizarrely twisted the teachings of the Buddha. Your palm technique is exactly the same."
The owner of the sword spoke from just beyond the hilt.
Her limbs were long and graceful. By all accounts, she possessed the flawless posture of an eminent swordsman.
The hem of her ash-colored robe trailed long beneath her feet. The grayish-white hue of her hair, cropped short at the nape of her neck, gave her a peculiar look.
She was a beauty whom time had seemingly bypassed, yet her fierce aura made her presence feel entirely detached from the surrounding scenery.
She stared coldly at the Seventh Apostle's left hand.
Unlike the hand currently blocking her blade, the left hand was devoid of any energy waves.
Yet, even as she maintained her sword kinesis, Baek Seo-gun, the Yeongcheon Sword Ghost, remained intensely wary of the Blood Flame Cult Apostle's next move. There was no telling when or what kind of bizarre technique the woman might unleash.
She also had another reason for speaking. As a Sword Venerable of the heterodox sects, she knew exactly how powerful a well-timed provocation could be.
"Blood Shadow Rakshasa Hands. For all your talk of a Rakshasa, it lacks depth. You are closer to a ravenous blood ghost than a guardian deity of Buddhism."
Rumble—
The sword vibrated violently. The pushing force of the blade and the trapping tension of the hand locked against each other. Beneath their feet, white snow continuously kicked up into a hazy mist.
The Seventh Apostle curled the corners of her lips.
"Your knowledge of the Jianghu must be incredibly narrow. Those of the True Blood lineage don't absorb essence."
"The blood ghosts under your command are wretched."
"That's why I'm destroying them. Almost all of those bothersome Shanxi bugs are dead. I'm thinking of heading toward Henan next. Or maybe Xinjiang."
"Madwoman."
"Aren't you the one who's lost her mind, auntie? Striking first out of nowhere. I guess you don't want to die peacefully."
"An amateur's tongue is quite sharp."
"No, should I call you grandmother instead? Just how much of an age gap is there between you and the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress?"
"A mere junior who doesn't even know her place. I can see exactly how you were raised. It explains why there is absolutely no dignity in your martial arts."
Screeech—
The screech of grinding metal grew louder, echoing from the Seventh Apostle's hand where the trapped sword vibrated furiously.
It was a supreme ultimate technique; blocking it with mere physical tension and body protection Qi had its limits. Blood began to trickle from the palm gripping the blade.
"If anything happens to my Grand Preceptor while I'm wasting time with you..."
Was it because of the pain? The Seventh Apostle's smile only deepened, as did the madness lingering at the edges of her lips.
"If my Grand Preceptor, who hasn't even lived half your lifespan, dies here... I will inflict every pain in this world upon your body."
It was a delirious mutter. She whispered wickedly,
"I'll fill your acupoints with needles and sever your fine meridians strand by strand. I'll make the slightest twitch of a single muscle fiber sheer agony. After that comes the muscle-splitting and bone-dislocating, but before I even start, I'll turn you into a blood ghost and bestow the power of regeneration upon you. You will never be allowed to die."
The killing intent steeped in her voice was suffocatingly dense. Pure hostility practically oozed from the erratic energy waves spilling from her lips.
Yet, the light in Baek Seo-gun's eyes merely flashed like pitch-black lightning.
"Grand Preceptor?"
She furrowed her brow. Simultaneously, her sword kinesis ground to a halt.
"Do you mean the Flash Art?"
She had just witnessed the head of one of the Eight Great Families unleash a devastating attack on Jeong Yeon-shin.
The situation was extremely urgent. Whatever misunderstanding or underlying intentions existed between them no longer mattered.
The real problem was the time being pointlessly wasted at this very moment.
As the number of exchanged blows increased, she had already come to the conclusion that ending this confrontation was the absolute priority.
Communication had to progress rapidly.
Baek Seo-gun offered a vague, half-hearted explanation.
"I am that child's... nanny."
"What?"
...And so.
It did not take long for a bizarre truce to form.
Baek Seo-gun immediately took to the skies on her sword, while the Seventh Apostle swiftly kicked off the ground. Keeping a wary eye on each other, they dashed in a straight line toward the Gongya Clan.
It took only a single bound to reach their destination. They arrived in a literal instant.
First, they confirmed that the sounds of clashing energy waves had completely ceased.
Soon after, they witnessed the Jegal Clan Leader's barrier vanish without a trace. Then, soaring high into the sky, they spotted a headless corpse.
A corpse clad in pure white silk—one that no one had dared to touch.
"...That Jegal bastard is dead. How?"
"My Grand Preceptor must have done it. With a sensation like an ecstatic cluster of stars."
"You are... never mind."
Baek Seo-gun glanced sideways. The blade beneath her feet hummed, as if actively restraining itself from striking.
The Seventh Apostle was slowly gliding downward, the sleeves of her bright red pure blood robe spread wide.
An ecstatic aura emanated from her small frame.
As she descended, staring at the Flash Art—who was currently confronting some punk sitting in a palanquin—her temperament resembled that of a sinister bat. It was a stark contrast to her beautiful appearance.
The Desolate Fortress had many enemies.
If the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult truly intended to protect the Flash Art, it was best to leave her be. However, she would need to be watched closely for a long time.
At that thought, Baek Seo-gun's eyes grew heavy.
'A long time.'
It might be a futile premise.
She was the Sword Venerable of the Deep Martial Alliance. She could not follow the Flash Art around forever.
She had only set out on this journey after smashing the Eldest Son of the Deep Martial Alliance for making unwanted advances. The longer her excursion lasted, the deeper the Deep Martial Alliance Leader's anger would grow.
'How can I win that child's recognition?'
She was just like the Jegal Clan Leader. She knew it herself. As a heterodox martial artist and a supreme master of the sword, she possessed a bizarrely twisted personality.
Her haughty pride as the Henan Province Sword Venerable simply would not allow her to accept her past as a mere maid.
She craved the goodwill of someone who resembled Jeong Pan-ak but had become far more noble. She wanted it so that the standing of the maid Baek Seo-gun—who remained trapped in the past—could finally be elevated.
Fortunately, she was now in a position to step forward. Now, she just had to bring her little excursion to a swift end.
*
A matter of grave importance, completely distinct from the incident with the Jegal Clan Leader, was currently unfolding.
To the common people, the arrival of a junior first-rank official was not a mere visit; it was a descent from the heavens.
An Assistant Military Commander who ruled over the military administration was akin to a heavenly god, a figure nearly impossible for an ordinary person to even glimpse.
Because a peerless martial master possessed power equivalent to an entire northern army, they were inevitably scrutinized by the highest-ranking officials in the government.
"We are from the Five Military Commissions. Make way for the Assistant Military Commander."
Step.
Four swordsmen clad in blue official robes carried a palanquin forward, confronting the battered unit commanders of the Desolate Fortress.
Among the two pairs of men and women carrying the palanquin, every single one was a master. Even though the Black Ranks of the Divine Sword Corps exuded a terrifying aura, the palanquin bearers puffed out their chests with pride.
"You must have heard us announcing our arrival."
The man in blue robes, who appeared to be the leader of the four, spoke up.
"I suppose you were too busy focusing on your 'work.'"
"Huh?"
Ak Su-rim, who had been watching this display with blatant displeasure, shifted her weight onto one leg.
"I guess our Flash Art's hand slipped. As you can see, we just fought a fierce battle. Our opponent was the Jegal Clan Leader, who had fully completed his magic formation. Isn't it an incredible feat just to have survived and defeated him? The Imperial Depot and Guard couldn't even dream of pulling off such a thing."
She then gestured lazily toward the palanquin. The "Imperial Depot and Guard" was a collective term for the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
Swoosh—
A dry wind swept across the land made desolate by the fierce battle.
Assistant Military Commander Kang Su-hwi leaned casually against the backrest of his silver-trimmed palanquin.
He wore a black official hat with a round brim. Completely unfitting for his proper official robes, he wore a wild fur coat draped over his shoulders, yet the rugged look suited the handsome man remarkably well.
Perhaps because he was of mixed Han and Brightfolk blood, his slightly pointed ears were quite striking.
He was the third highest-ranking figure in the Five Military Commissions, the organization that governed the military forces of the entire world.
As a junior first-rank official, he looked down on even the most highly renowned generals. His only direct superiors were the Left and Right Grand Governors of the senior first rank.
"……"
He glanced sideways, examining the severed head of the Jegal Clan Leader.
It was hard to find any trace of a peerless master's transcendence in a head rolling in the dirt. It was a sight hard to believe, even seeing it with his own eyes.
It was also a matter of great regret.
Though Jegal Cheon-sang might have been a madman to the people of the Jianghu, he had never harmed the common folk. His intention had been obvious.
He had wanted to avoid making an enemy of the imperial military on top of the Desolate Fortress.
'I knew long ago that he was a rare bastard. That was largely thanks to the Eastern Depot's intelligence.'
Nevertheless, there was a reason he had welcomed the man's presence in Shanxi.
Fighting poison with poison. The Desolate Fortress was powerful, but its reach did not extend across the entire Central Plains. Thus, he had hoped to use the Jegal Clan Leader to suppress the plundering of the local Shanxi martial artists, who possessed troublesome body protection scriptures.
Those martial world scoundrels were a breed that dragged down the dignity of the government soldiers, even when it wasn't a year of famine.
Anger welled up inside him.
'How dare they.'
He had ordered his arrival to be announced in a hurry the moment he sensed the Jegal Clan Leader's True Qi fading.
Yet, the sword had already been swung. These martial artists had paid absolutely no heed to the announcement that the third most powerful figure in the solemn military administration had arrived.
An Assistant Military Commander was not to be treated this way.
Even if they were unit commanders of the Desolate Fortress, it made no difference. How could those who maintained the order of the nation disregard a top-ranking official so blatantly? It was only right to look them in the eye and hold them strictly accountable.
Kang Su-hwi turned his gaze down from the palanquin.
"……"
His anger instantly evaporated.
It happened the moment his eyes met those of a youth so dignified he could easily be mistaken for royalty. No, he was a swordsman hovering somewhere between a young man and a boy.
Kang Su-hwi was different from ignorant backwater officials.
Being directly connected to the central political circles of Beijing, he constantly received all kinds of news. His acquisition of information was exceptionally rapid.
Not only had he promptly memorized the portraits of the seventeen unit commanders of the Divine Sword Corps, but he also deeply understood their networks and connections.
The personal profiles of the Desolate Fortress's Black Ranks were classified as top secret to ensure their safety during missions.
Since only the imperial family and intelligence agencies like the Imperial Depot and Guard could access them, it was normally impossible for outsiders to even learn of their personal relationships.
'Flash Art, Commander of the Demonlight Wing. The one favored by the Imperial Grandson.'
The personal disciple of the Desolate Fortress Lord. The junior martial brother of the Imperial Grandson.
He had caused the demotion of Eunuch Myeong-yeo, who had been assigned to him, without even lifting a finger.
He was said to be an extremely arrogant and relentless individual. It was rumored that the moment he rose to the Black Rank, he had lopped off the head of a branch head.
As it turned out, he possessed the bloodline of the Desolate Ma Clan. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense.
'He is the maternal grandson of the Hegemon Hero. And since he is the very person who just killed the Jegal Clan Leader, he must now be the closest to the Purple Rank.'
The Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress.
It was an absolute hierarchy, referred to as Yama within the government. There was no one who could replace them.
Since the peerless masters of the imperial family could not leave the Forbidden City, the Purple Rank was practically a position publicly recognized by the nation as second only to one, but above all others.
On the other hand, there were plenty of people in Beijing eagerly eyeing the position of Assistant Military Commander.
'Years ago, the Hegemon Hero... left the Head Eunuch half-paralyzed.'
It was said that after an argument with the Head Eunuch—who oversaw the Eastern Depot, Western Depot, and the Imperial Procession Agency—he had struck like lightning.
Even so, the incident was quietly swept under the rug. Anyone who dared speak of the rumor was dragged off to the Eastern Depot. It had all happened with the Emperor's tacit approval.
Since then, the Hegemon Hero had been regarded as a demon god across both the government and the martial world. Kang Su-hwi had once caught a fleeting glimpse of Ma Yeon-jeok's face. It had been utterly terrifying.
This was a world where martial arts reigned supreme.
For someone to hold the position of a junior first-rank military official, they had to be a supreme master who had opened all three of their dantians.
This entire train of thought flashed through his mind at the speed of light, fueled by the circulation of the Five Elements Heavy Spirit Heart Technique in his upper dantian.
'By common sense, it is right to punish everyone here. His Majesty despises flattery.'
The Assistant Military Commander was clearly a higher position than a Black Rank of the Desolate Fortress.
Considering both actual power and official rank, it was a position that could comfortably squeeze into the bottom of the top ten in the imperial court's hierarchy.
It was also the source of Kang Su-hwi's lofty pride, built up over many years alongside his rank.
Having lived for the welfare of the people all this time, he had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.
Kang Su-hwi looked down heavily at the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, pondering how he should handle him.
As he stared silently, the face of the Hegemon Hero—about whom ominous rumors had been circulating lately—flickered in his mind.
It was a moment of critical choice.
Just then.
"Greetings, Assistant Military Commander."
Jeong Yeon-shin calmly clasped his hands in a martial greeting. Having just finished a fierce battle, he held his sword in a reverse grip in one hand.
Because his battle adrenaline had not yet subsided, he hadn't bothered to mind his posture.
Kang Su-hwi's shoulders twitched at the sudden surge of localized spirit energy.
The local aristocrats watching from the sidelines began to whisper among themselves.
"Is he not the greatest rising star in a hundred years? I doubt even the Young Sect Leader of the Ming Cult has reached that realm. He is like Nezha draped in lotus flowers. The rumors among the commoners were no exaggeration."
"The Lotus Nezha?"
"From Buddhist mythology. Is it not as if Prince Nezha, the Fighting God, has descended riding a lotus? Since he slew the Jegal Clan Leader, no moniker could possibly be an exaggeration."
"Are you mad?! Shut your mouth and lower your voice! We are in the presence of a junior first-rank official! Calling that boy a prince... The Commander's expression is already grim..."
"Did he just perform a martial sword salute to a high government official? They say he has quite a knack for provocation."
"While there may not be many in the Jianghu who can stop the Lotus Nezha now... the government is a different story. That etiquette of his might be elegant for a martial artist, but to a top-ranking official of the military administration..."
This hushed conversation took place as they closely observed the demeanors of both the Flash Art, Commander of the Demonlight Wing, and the Assistant Military Commander of the Five Military Commissions.
'Those local aristocrat bastards. They'll be dead soon anyway.'
Kang Su-hwi stiffened his face in annoyance and stepped down from the palanquin. His official robes, woven from heavenly silkworm thread, rustled softly against the wood. It was a sound that commanded absolute silence.
"My name is Kang Su-hwi. I serve as the Assistant Military Commander."
He spoke somewhat slowly, his voice carrying the heavy weariness of a junior first-rank official.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing lowered his clasped hands.
"Jeong Yeon-shin of the Desolate Fortress."
A strange tension pulled tautly at the surroundings. The friction between the Desolate Fortress and the military was nothing new.
Anyone with even a modicum of insight knew of it. In this moment, the silence between their words seemed to etch itself deeply into the air.
"I know. Of course I know."
Nodding, Kang Su-hwi spoke in a formal tone. He had made up his mind.
"Your height doesn't match your facial features. Your limbs are quite long, giving you the perfect build of a swordsman. You were born for it. How old are you?"
"My age, you mean?"
"Would I have asked for the age of the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress instead? I have no desire to die an untimely death."
"Seventeen..."
"Excellent!"
The Assistant Military Commander raised his hand and slapped it heartily onto Jeong Yeon-shin's shoulder.
"The true divine sword of the nation stands right here!"