Chapter 313: Heonwon (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 313: Heonwon (8)
The Vajra chuckled softly.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been mentally running through his forms, stared blankly at him.
'He is quite benevolent toward his juniors.'
Earlier, Gun Yurin and Yu-hyeon had both noticed his internal injuries. Great Monk Wonjeok would have grasped his condition with a single glance.
Though he had requested a duel with a stern face, the intensity of his aura now matched Yeon-shin’s. He intended to lower his internal energy to trade blows on an even footing—a gesture befitting a monk of profound cultivation.
Moreover, that was a smile Yeon-shin had often seen on his maternal grandfather’s face.
It was an expression that, for reasons he could never quite pinpoint, always brought a ticklish sensation. It was similar to the look Ma Yeon-jeok sometimes gave him.
At times, it had felt strangely embarrassing, but seeing one of Shaolin's Four Great Vajras wear the exact same expression made it clear that Jeong Yeon-shin had simply been mistaken.
'I joined forces with the daughter of the Deep Martial Alliance’s leader, yet he softened his stance just from seeing my opening form…?'
He was a true elder monk.
Admiration welled in Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes.
The Jeong Family Manor, like Shaolin, was located in Henan Province. Every child in Xinye County grew up hearing tales of the Shaolin Temple's fame. To them, one of the Four Great Vajras from the thousand-year-old temple on Mount Song was like a Buddha wielding martial arts—an existence far beyond a mere idol.
Ahem.
Suddenly, Wonjeok cleared his throat.
"Looking at you, Benefactor, the will to fight drains from my arms. It would only be proper to trade blows after you have fully healed your injuries, both internal and external. This humble monk was too hasty."
As expected, Yeon-shin thought.
'He possesses a generous heart.'
A look of goodwill washed over the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's face. The ancient monk of the thousand-year-old Shaolin was exactly as Yeon-shin had imagined in his childhood. He recalled the old monks of the Brightfolk, who were said to be living Buddhas, and the days he had enviously watched village children play "Hundred-Step Divine Fist" from afar.
He felt a little proud. I’ve met one in person.
"The night wind is cold. Let us return to the campfire."
Jeong Yeon-shin extended a hand to guide him.
The duel between the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and one of the Four Great Vajras had ended before it began.
...Just like that.
Sitting around the campfire once more, the five of them wore vastly different expressions. Yu-hyeon let out a sigh mixed with relief and regret, while Jeon Baek, the Sama Ascetic, kept his head low, warily scanning their surroundings. Gun Yurin scratched the back of her head, her lips pursed in deep thought.
And Wonjeok, of the Four Great Vajras, only now snapped out of his daze amidst the loud crackling of the firewood.
'That is a heaven-defying talent.'
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing had truly refined Dharma Power. As hard as it was to believe, it was a reality he had to accept. Though the boy was said to have studied Buddhist teachings alongside the young divine monk Gakjeong of the Eighteen Arhats, he had manifested the Dharma Power of Expelling Demons and Eradicating Evil in what felt like the blink of an eye to the Brightfolk.
If so, the reverse was also possible.
His talent was of an entirely different caliber. He was a grandmaster capable of endless creation, fully capable of unleashing a shockwave that could obliterate the energy of Crushing Evil and Revealing the Truth.
Would the martial arts of the Orthodox Factions truly be without weakness against him?
The boy currently tapping his foot to a strange, cheerful rhythm across the fire was destined to become the natural enemy of countless sects. Beneath that subtly moving foot, countless martial artists would one day kneel.
'They say the current Commander of the Demonlight Wing has remained nigh undefeated.'
In particular, rumor had it he never lost to an opponent he faced a second time. Wonjeok had heard as much since descending from Mount Song.
The gravity of the situation struck him at once. This was a problem that would one day become a grave concern. A man possessing talent unseen in a thousand years was willing to join hands with the daughter of the Deep Martial Alliance's leader to achieve his goals. And he was a high-ranking official of the Desolate Fortress—an organization that cherished the common folk while holding the Jianghu in extreme contempt.
Wonjeok considered himself a mere rogue monk. Before being a monk, he was a martial artist lost in delusion, a vengeful ghost honing his fists and staff techniques to one day confront the Heavenly Demon, should he ever return.
And now, he faced a profound threat to the Jianghu. How should he act?
'Amitabha.'
A frown creased his smooth brow beneath his dotted ordination scars.
Just then.
"Monk, please have this."
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing handed him a mushroom he had been roasting over the fire.
"It's a winter oyster mushroom. The flavor is quite excellent."
It was roasted to a meticulous golden-brown.
Wonjeok accepted it in a daze and glanced at the Commander. With his eyes sparkling, he looked his age—just as he did when talking with Yu-hyeon, the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua.
To the eccentric old monk, this didn't leave a particularly deep impression. It was just that the savory aroma, blended with the Commander's clean-cut demeanor, seemed to carry the faint traces of Dharma Power he had revealed earlier.
Wonjeok, of the Four Great Vajras, smiled a contented smile. What did it matter how things turned out?
"This monk gladly accepts your kindness, Benefactor."
"I thought you were practicing a vow of silence when you were with me..." Yu-hyeon let out a hollow laugh.
"So," Gun Yurin, who had been quietly observing the scene, spoke up. Her arms rested casually on her knees, her posture ready to draw her saber at a moment's notice. She never let her guard down.
"I don't know what's going on with this group, but that fellow over there agreed to help me raid the Killing Gate."
"May I tag along?" Yu-hyeon asked.
"No."
"I wasn't asking the daughter of the Deep Martial Alliance's leader." Yu-hyeon looked at his friend from the Desolate Fortress.
Gun Yurin glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin before grumbling, "I'm the employer here."
"Do you still wish for my assistance? I have ties to the Nine Sects," Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
Instantly, Gun Yurin's eyes flashed. "Whether a cow's throat is cut with a sword or a Crescent Blade, what matters is the meat. The Killing Gate is the meat I'm after. With an expert of your caliber cooperating, it won't matter what variables arise."
"What if I betray you?"
"Then I'll accept it as my fate. But honestly, isn't it more likely I'd die from a stray poison needle shot by some petty assassin? I'm a good judge of character, especially of those I've shared a meal with. I trust my own eyes over someone's background or status. You won't turn your blade on me. Because you are humble, fair, and sincere."
A hint of madness flickered across her face. How on earth did she grow up? Her ambition to decapitate her brother and become the master of the Deep Martial Alliance was laid bare. Her spirit was formidable.
Jeong Yeon-shin fell silent.
He had to admit, her insight was exceptionally sharp. Faced with an assessment that was true in every single word, he was left speechless.
"Besides, what could a nobody like you even do? Look at the incredible lineup we have here."
Yu-hyeon chuckled and pulled a wooden box from his robes. "Master told me to deliver this to you. But judging by your breathing, you won't be able to take it immediately. It's an elixir that affects the accumulation of Qi in the lower Dantian, so the acupoints receiving the energy must be healthy. Otherwise, it's no different from poison."
Slide.
He extended it toward Jeong Yeon-shin. A fragrant aroma, accompanied by a mystical energy, drifted through the gaps of the wooden box.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly accepted it. The wood felt warm to the touch, much like the hearts of Yu-hyeon and Lady Yul-ha.
"Tell her I am grateful. I only ever seem to receive favors from the Sect Leader."
"She said she was the one in your debt."
Just as Yu-hyeon offered a faint smile, Gun Yurin poked at the campfire with a roughly carved stick. "An elixir? Come to think of it, you mentioned a healing pill as the price for your cooperation."
"For someone of your caliber to not have a single pill... is rather strange, isn't it? You look like a noble young master, you carry a precious sword, and you possess a sword art profound enough to have initiated you into Sword Control."
She spoke casually, her tone nonchalant. It was just before the grand undertaking she had planned was about to begin. Despite her earlier boast about her keen eye, she seemed tense. It was like she was tapping a stone bridge before daring to cross.
"..."
In the silence, Jeong Yeon-shin's gaze met hers.
Suddenly, Gun Yurin smirked. "Even a ferocious dragon, so long as you don't touch its reverse scale, will bring rain to the parched earth. They say it naturally carries rain clouds wherever it goes. A calamity all depends on how one handles it."
Jeong Yeon-shin realized then. They had both guessed each other's true identities.
'Pills, is it?'
He had already consumed most of the healing pills in his travel bag. The damage left by the Jegal Clan Leader's technique was beyond what the medicine could heal. Even when he was down to his last two pills, there had been no significant improvement.
He needed more supplies. That was why he had asked for healing pills.
"I have my reasons."
"Fair enough. My apologies."
Tap.
Tapping the campfire a few times with her stick, Gun Yurin’s lips curled upward.
Jeong Yeon-shin gave a slight nod and lowered his gaze, feeling the emptiness inside his robes. He had kept a pouch of healing pills there, but it had been completely crushed during the fierce battle. The peerless expert's attacks had practically ignored the internal energy barrier Yeon-shin had wrapped around himself.
It was only natural, considering that allowing even a single blow to land would have resulted in a penetrating wound. The Jegal Clan Leader's strikes were hell manifested in the mortal realm.
The Peerless Realm.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt it acutely. He truly needed a proper Body Protection Qi.
'When will I find a decent structure for my internal power? I need to weave it properly…'
Unless it was a divine art, it was nothing more than a monkey playing at cat's cradle. If his current state was clothing, he was stuck at the stage of inventing the fabric. He needed armor—armor that wouldn't hinder the movements of his body and energy, but would assist them while boasting formidable defensive power.
The ultimate Body Protection Qi would be an internal energy barrier inherently suited to his own body and senses.
Silk and hemp were not enough. This was especially true since the protective technique he had obtained from the Gold-Piercing Martial Library already enveloped his entire body.
The next step he needed to achieve alongside Sword Control was all too clear.
What kind of inspiration would he gain from the Killing Gate, and from Great Monk Wonjeok in the future?
"Let's set off before sunrise tomorrow."
"This monk shall also accompany the young benefactor for the time being."
A strange party had formed. Amidst the twilight falling over the snow-covered forest, their conflicting interests intertwined.
*
"This should be far enough. Stop."
The voice was deep and booming, as if echoing from within a cave.
Three figures landed on the snowy field. Despite the pure white expanse, not a single footprint was left behind.
The Seventh Apostle moved lightly across the snow, using the Body Protection Scripture of Snow-Treading Without a Trace. The hem of her red Pure Blood Robe fluttered, its crimson exceptionally deep, as if reflecting her inner thoughts.
'Did we get away with it?'
She glanced at the man wearing a fur coat that reached his feet. He was massive. His height, easily seven feet, was overwhelming in itself.
It was the back of Gun Wi-hu, Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance.
The way he slowly released his aura felt almost inhuman. It was a matter of temperament. Looking at him was like staring at a fortress wall lined with hundreds of cannons. Not only was he unapproachable, but even drawing near felt like risking one's life. This was how the Seventh Apostle, of all people, felt.
She wondered, Should I have tried to flee?
'No. I had to make sure he wasn't playing any tricks on the Grand Preceptor. This was the best choice.'
Back in Taiyuan, while she had been admiring the Grand Preceptor's beautiful form, the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance had suddenly appeared behind her. He had cleaved through the air with Void Treading, leaving no trace of his presence.
It had been a terrifying turn of events.
Even more so for the Seventh Apostle, though she hadn't let it show.
A meeting between the battered Grand Preceptor and the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance could not be allowed to happen. The masters of the Great Sects were utterly despicable; when they encountered a talent they could not possess, they would inevitably try to break it. Just as the Blood Flame Cult Leader, whom she had trampled to death, had once sought to end the young Grand Preceptor's life.
It was a stroke of immense luck that the Grand Preceptor's aura was so weak. Her internal injuries were so severe that not even a fragment of her Dharma Power could be felt, making her appear to be nothing more than an outstanding rising star. To the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance, one of the Thirteen Heavens, she would seem like a mere gnat.
Thinking of this, the Seventh Apostle's face flushed, and she let out a sigh of relief quite uncharacteristic of her.
The Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance seemed to find the silent Baek Seo-gun puzzling. Without showing any particular favor to the Seventh Apostle, he had simply used his characteristic, terrifying pressure to lead them away from Taiyuan. Even when he exchanged a few words on swordsmanship with Baek Seo-gun, he did not speak to her. He merely forced their path with his sheer aura, as if holding a peerless genius of the Blood Flame Cult hostage.
The absolute masters of the Jianghu were an eccentric lot. It was difficult for anyone to comprehend their thinking.
The Seventh Apostle didn't mind. Her mind was entirely occupied with the Grand Preceptor's safety. It was enough that a confrontation had been avoided and that he had failed to recognize her.
That was all that mattered.
So she thought, running her fingers through the pitch-black ends of her hair that fell below her crimson shoulders.
Rustle.
'Now, how do I slip away…?'
Just as she was adopting a deliberately nonchalant posture, the world before her eyes flashed white—a white distinct from the surrounding snow. Before she could even register it, a colossal impact struck her. Something had slammed into her with overwhelming speed.
Boom!
The thunderous roar erupted only after she felt the blow. Clinging to her consciousness, the Seventh Apostle was buffeted by a violent gust of wind. Blood welled up in her throat. The Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance had rammed her with his shoulder. It was the ultimate body check.
Crash!
Even with both feet dug into the snow, she was sent sliding back for dozens of yards, carving two long trenches into the pure white ground. The figure of the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance was reduced to a mere speck in the distance.
Yet, his voice sounded as if he were right beside her.
"Though the Body Protection Scripture of you bats is peerless under heaven,"
Whoosh!
before she knew it, he was standing behind her once more, his back turned to her. It was an incredibly swift movement. Rather than being profound, his footwork felt like he was bridging the distance through sheer, terrifying physical force, yet it was blindingly fast.
"you will find it difficult to point those feet elsewhere now. Under any circumstances."
The snowy field surrounding her was blindingly bright.
"Your Mara Blood-Roaring Art is an outdated, trivial technique. Since the diagram of its true Qi is widely known, you had best give up on escaping."
It was a statement only the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance could make.
The profound expert had been traveling with them for two days. Despite possessing the ultimate martial prowess of an absolute master, the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance was incredibly meticulous. His temperament brooked no variables. The Condensed Radiance Art he practiced was said to be the pinnacle of heavy-strike techniques, leaving an opponent no room to evade.
While Baek Seo-gun wore a complicated expression in the distance, the Leader's interrogation began without hesitation.
"Speak. For what reason were you watching my daughter?"
"What kind of bullshit is that?"
"Your heartbeat is perfectly calm. I know you speak the truth."
The Seventh Apostle knew it intuitively. This monster was a master at manipulating people.
"Moving on," the commanding voice continued slowly, "there is the Flash Art of the Desolate Fortress. The man who was with my daughter."
In that instant, she froze. In truth, she felt as if her heart had dropped. The Seventh Apostle deliberately curled her lips into a smooth arc. How thrilling.
"Did your Deep Martial Alliance crawl into bed with the Hao Sect?"
"I can guess why a restless creature like you showed respect to my Sword Saint. It is because he hails from the Jeong Family Manor of Xinye County." The Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance continued, "I also received word that you entered the main fortress of the Desolate Fortress and called the Hegemon Hero your grandfather. It was hard to believe, but they say you bragged about it yourself before killing the Blood Ghosts of Shanxi."
"Quite a few survived. They were all gnats, after all."
"I know you hold that brat, the Flash Art, in special regard. This seat is also keeping a close eye on him."
"Are you worried I might teach your foolish child a lesson? You'd better check if her neck is still intact right now. My Grand Preceptor..."
She suddenly fell silent, sensing a strange atmosphere. This leader of a martial alliance, who seemed to rely on sheer numbers, was hiding a sinister intent—a plot directly threatening the Grand Preceptor's safety.
"Keep talking. Tell me everything about the Lotus Nezha."
"...I don't really know anything else."
Crunch.
The sound of footsteps on snow echoed from behind her.
The presence turning toward the Seventh Apostle was heavy. An immensely weighty sensation shook the air.
"I know the obsession Blood Ghosts have with life. Do you wish to die a gruesome death?"
The chilling words directed at the highest-ranking apostle of the Blood Flame Cult carried a lethal, suffocating weight; there was not a single trace of a bluff hidden within them. The man standing against her was no ordinary martial artist—he was a transcendent existence, recognized across the martial world as one of the legendary Thirteen Heavens. For a supreme master of his unfathomable caliber, executing such a gruesome and agonizing promise was not merely a possibility. It was an absolute, undeniable certainty. If he wished to tear her life apart piece by piece, he possessed both the overwhelming strength and the ruthless will to do exactly that.
His voice drifted from the shadows directly behind the Seventh Apostle, cold, hollow, and utterly devoid of mercy. The sheer pressure radiating from his form felt like a physical blade pressed flush against her throat.
"Do you truly have nothing else to say?" he asked, his tone dropping to a deadly whisper that seemed to freeze the very air around them.
"Yes."
Despite the overwhelming aura bearing down upon her, the corners of her mouth curled upward in a grotesque display of defiance. Her smile, already heavily stained a sickening crimson with her own blood, stretched even wider across her pale face. It was a smile born of sheer, unadulterated madness, perfectly encapsulating the fanatical devotion of her sect.
"I really don't know," she whispered back, her bloody teeth gleaming in the dim light.
But right at that very moment, the heavy tension blanketing the snowy battlefield shattered.
Without any warning, the Seventh Apostle's defiant, unyielding gaze suddenly flickered. Her eyes drifted past the suffocating presence of her interrogator, her attention abruptly and violently pulled toward a distant, snow-capped ridge looming in the background.
"Ah...?"
A soft, involuntary gasp escaped her bloodied lips, completely breaking her previous facade of fearless mockery. Her pupils dilated in sudden, absolute shock, trembling as they locked onto something in the distance. The muscles in her shoulders, previously relaxed in the face of her own impending death, tensed so violently that her bones seemed on the verge of snapping.
"Grandfather!" she screamed, her voice tearing through the freezing wind.
RUMBLE—!
Before the echo of her desperate cry could even fade, the very earth convulsed in a violent tremor. The pristine, snow-covered ground beneath their feet was instantaneously gouged out, crushed downward by an invisible, apocalyptic force. The sheer pressure carved a massive, perfectly formed concentric circle deep into the frozen terrain, blasting compacted snow and shattered rock high into the sky.
It was an eruption of internal power on a scale completely unlike anything they had ever witnessed or felt before. A terrifying, colorless wave of sheer martial energy swept out in all directions, moving faster than the eye could track. As the invisible shockwave violently whipped their clothes into a chaotic frenzy, it carried with it a suffocating, oppressive might, sending an abyssal, bone-deep shiver violently crashing down their spines.