Chapter 321: Heonwon (16)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 321: Heonwon (16)
Atop the roof of an ancient pavilion, Heonwon Chang's lips parted slightly as he gazed toward the distant city gates.
Thud!
Amidst the faintly rising dust, a boy casually brushed off his sleeves. At his feet lay an elderly figure, sprawled out in an unsightly heap.
"Did you hear that...? It's another martial artist!"
"Get inside! Hurry, get inside and lock the doors!"
A few townspeople fled in a panic. Thanks to the masked swordsmen, Taiyuan had transformed into a mountain of blades and a forest of swords.
Urgent footsteps echoed from all directions—a clear sign that the locals were all too accustomed to this chaos.
Standing on the roof, Heonwon Chang stared intently at the commotion.
What was that just now?
That was completely unlike his young friend.
The current Commander of the Demonlight Wing was the type to thoroughly humiliate his enemies, even in a single exchange of blows.
It was for this exact reason that few among the countless martial artists in the main fortress ever dared to ask Jeong Yeon-shin for a spar. The Desolate Fortress Chief Steward's Office had recognized this vicious trait and taken great pleasure in it.
They had tasked a rising star who had only just reached the Black Rank with ruining the Martial World Alliance's Foundation Ceremony. They claimed it was the proper way to utilize the noble Ma family bloodline.
Naturally, he was destined to ride a wave of continuous success.
Jeong Yeon-shin had been weathering a period of severe strife and turmoil for nearly a year now. Yet today, he had slammed Elder Geum Yeon-sang into the ground using a technique that was incredibly simple compared to his usual flamboyant style.
His fa jin and management of internal power were entirely subdued. Normally, such a thing would be highly unusual for him.
The result itself wasn't surprising.
The enemy who had killed his mother was merely an elder who threw his weight around the Killing Gate based purely on seniority. There was no way he had accumulated enough martial prowess to stand against the Commander of the Demonlight Wing in a one-on-one fight.
Heonwon Chang figured that to someone like Jeong Yeon-shin, a single old monster would look like nothing more than a dancing monkey. It would take at least ten of them for him to even consider drawing his sword.
And that was precisely the problem.
Is there something wrong with the Commander's body? Because of the distance, it was hard to tell exactly what was going on.
If I step away during the test, I don't know what kind of fault those viper-like old men will find...
He needed the mnemonic.
The restriction currently placed inside Heonwon Chang's body was closer to a terminal disease: the Seven Pillars Blood-Sealing Great Method.
An elixir, ingested alongside his Marrow Cleansing since birth, had forced his body into a specific constitution.
If anyone tried to forcibly release and extract his internal energy, his power and life force would dissipate simultaneously. It was a vicious secret technique that even the Moyong Clan, who had kidnapped him, could never unravel.
— The innate qi has already run dry. There must be a specific method to handle this.
— Indeed. It was designed with a specific mnemonic in mind. That is how the structure of the true qi is woven. Good heavens, to think their understanding of the human body runs this deep... The Ming Cult is truly a terrifying place.
— It's a den of monsters. To bestow such a secret transmission upon mere gatekeepers.
— It would be faster to develop our clan's Star Absorption Technique so that the Young Master can easily take it. Hm? The Geum child has regained consciousness. I shall strike his sleep acupoint.
This was the conversation that had taken place at the bedside of the young Geum Seon-hwi.
The physicians of the Moyong Clan were people who studied martial arts like scholars. At the edge of Geum Seon-hwi's blurry vision, his body bristling with acupuncture needles, stood the Great Ritual Sword, Moyong Gi-hwang, and the young Young Master with their arms crossed.
Their mere presence had utterly crushed the young boy's naive illusions of the prestigious orthodox sects.
It felt as though a cursed constitution—like the Solar Divine Pulse possessed by that poppy addict, or the tragically short lifespan the young Commander was born with—had been artificially engraved into his very being.
It was the stubborn, spiteful will of the Ming Cult's martial lineage, ensuring they would never leave anything beneficial behind for their enemies.
This was a far cry from the genius of Jeong Yeon-shin, who could devise the key mnemonic for the City of Master Craftsmen in a mere instant.
He had to obtain the mnemonic.
To safely wield the immense power trapped within his body, he absolutely had to.
"Tsk..."
Heonwon Chang could only stare blankly at Jeong Yeon-shin for a moment.
A strange, tickling sensation stirred in his chest.
Geum Yeon-sang. He's really... dead.
The elders had ruled the Killing Gate through the vested interests of tradition.
They had turned the young Geum Seon-hwi into a wooden puppet and constantly placed restrictions on his older brother Geum Jon-hwi's righteous deeds.
During the Rebellion of the Heavenly Demon's Tomb, those same elders had practically handed Geum Seon-hwi over to the clutches of the Moyong Clan before retreating. Yet, they still shamelessly banded together under the name of the sect to secure their own safety.
They hid behind the guise of their family business, claiming that protecting the Heavenly Demon's legacy came above all else.
As if brainwashed, every single one of them acted like monsters. Setting aside their martial prowess, that was simply how Heonwon Chang perceived the old fossils of the Killing Gate.
He had watched them since he was young, and the very foundation of their sect was bizarre.
But now...
Even those iron-walled masses of killing intent were proven to be merely human.
They didn't just die at the hands of the inhuman monsters from the great sects; their breath could be cut short by a single strike from Jeong Yeon-shin—a boy who had shared a dining table with Heonwon Chang for quite some time.
Though I haven't seen many people who didn't end up that way when facing him.
It was a matter of reality finally sinking in.
— Martial artists avoid underhanded methods?
— That's what they say. Yesterday, some kids from the martial hall walked past, talking about snapping an assassin's neck or something.
— Haha, whether they're of the White Path or the Black Path, in the end, they're all killers. Even the righteous deeds of those called 'great heroes' are mostly just killings, so we can use our daggers like righteous swordsmen too.
— How can I know...? Whether my flying dagger technique is like that or not.
— If your past actions are worthy of being recited in a poem, then it is. Hmm... how about an assassin who takes the head of a powerful man for a single copper coin offered by a child who lost their parents to bandits? Though the elder grandpas probably won't like it much.
His older brother, Geum Jon-hwi, had lived exactly as he said he would.
Even after surviving the Rebellion of the Heavenly Demon's Tomb, he poured his life into righteous deeds. He indiscriminately severed the necks of corrupt officials, heterodox villains, and sometimes even the hypocrites of the Righteous Faction.
It was said that in the places he departed, only a single letter detailing the dead man's evil deeds was left behind.
He had dedicated his life to changing the Jianghu's perception of their sect.
After escaping the Moyong Clan by a stroke of heaven-sent luck, Heonwon Chang had wandered the Jianghu as a sword boy for a certain vagabond. Even while serving as a mere sword bearer, he occasionally heard tales of the moniker "Slaying Hero."
He had witnessed his collateral brother's lonely struggle to reform their sect.
Yet, Heonwon Chang did not return. He had been utterly disillusioned by the betrayal involving the Moyong Clan.
Only recently, upon finally reuniting with Geum Jon-hwi, did he hear of the sweeping changes within the Killing Gate.
His brother told him that the newly trained disciples followed him completely.
He added that only the Elder Council remained stubbornly unchanged, and that the future of their prestigious sect would surely differ from the elders' antiquated wishes.
— If you return, I will serve you as the Sect Leader. Even if your martial arts are not yet a match for this foolish older brother, once you break the restriction, another path will open. There are many of our sect's martial arts that you have yet to learn. This brother of yours will do everything in his power to cleanse your foundation... I will cut down anything, be it a bamboo sword or whatever else.
He had ignored those words.
But Geum Yeon-sang's sudden death brought a jarring sense of reality. The decline of the Elder Council was indeed inevitable.
Rustle.
The old men who suddenly blocked his path now had very little time left to live.
"Do not take another step."
"The test is not over. The moment you move any further, we will consider it void."
Figures possessing quiet, heavy auras surrounded Heonwon Chang.
Since they all wore veils covering the lower halves of their faces, it was difficult to read their expressions, but Heonwon Chang sensed a strange, raw emotion in their wrinkled eyes.
It was undisguised hostility toward the young Commander.
Their long-time friend had been slain in a single blow. It was as if a deep gash had been carved directly into the pride of these stubborn old men.
"Give him no time to rest! Stop him from performing Qi Healing!"
"We must not give the Commander of the Demonlight Wing a single moment to breathe!"
Down below, elite masked swordsmen were swarming toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
The momentum of their charge left deep footprints cratered into the ground and walls—a truly terrifying sight.
It looked as if human arrows were being fired at him from all eight directions.
The clash began.
Boom!
A massive shockwave erupted from where Jeong Yeon-shin stood. Spreading outward in concentric circles, the blast kicked up a thick cloud of dust, blurring the battlefield.
"This is as far as we go. We will resume the test after the battle settles. With the Moyong Clan's eye techniques, it is only a matter of time before we are discovered."
"Indeed, the Killing Gate shall withdraw."
"Geum Seon-hwi, obey the orders of the Elder Council."
The flat, monotonous voices characteristic of assassins struck Heonwon Chang's ears.
He stared blankly at the old men before him, then slowly opened his mouth. "I've been thinking about this for a long time..."
"That final mnemonic. Does it actually exist? This absurd situation is making me think all sorts of things. How dare you tell an expert of the Demonlight Wing to abandon his Commander and withdraw?"
"...What is the intent behind your question?" one of the elders asked back, meeting Heonwon Chang's gaze. His voice was incredibly dry.
The Great Snow Sword paid no heed.
"Is my question so strange? Every member of the direct line except me is dead, and I highly doubt you salvaged the secret transmission documents related to the direct line when the Rebellion of the Heavenly Demon's Tomb broke out. If anything, you would have scrambled to grab just one more of the Heavenly Demon's legacies that the family guarded. For instance, an ancient body protection qi like the Heavenly Demon Armor."
"……"
"Aren't you lying to the Young Sect Leader down there who is looking after the disciples—meaning my brother, Jon-hwi? Just so you can delay raising the Slaying Hero to the position of Sect Leader. Whether it's me, who carries the blood of a lowborn, or my brother Jon-hwi, who is from a collateral branch... I'm starting to think neither of us is good enough for you."
Swoosh— Boom! Clang!
Shockwaves mingled with the winter wind, continuing to echo in the distance.
The elders did not answer. They merely stood loftily, as if guarding their pride.
They were as cold and empty as the dry breeze brushing past their skin at this very moment.
Heonwon Chang nodded, as if expecting nothing less. "Of course."
"An assassin's greatest virtue is deception. You elders are truly outstanding disciples of the Killing Gate."
"How dare you insult us?" a voice hissed from the side, sounding like a cornered wildcat spitting in anger.
Heonwon Chang half-closed his eyes in silence.
There is no final phrase to complete it. That means they only have the secret manuals of the branch families...
His restriction lay dormant in the form of innate qi.
If he tampered with it recklessly, he would die young. If he was cursed with terrible luck, his eyes might roll back into his head right here, and he would cross the Sanzu River.
But the situation was urgent. If Jeong Yeon-shin's earlier clumsy technique was due to internal injuries, it would be impossible for him to withstand the elite sword corps of the Moyong Clan.
This was the inevitable crisis faced by a Black Rank expert targeted by numerous great sects.
Heonwon Chang suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.
His Commander was already living a life with a set expiration date, so why were there so many bastards who couldn't just leave him be?
Wait, a limited lifespan...?
In that instant, a bright light flared in Heonwon Chang's eyes.
He had protected Jeong Yeon-shin the longest in the Desolate Fortress. He had always sensed the boy's true nature.
Whether the boy was flashing his blue and white eyes to create unexpected stances, or carving out brilliant sword trajectories in battles where there was absolutely no chance of victory.
— Young Master Jeong! It seems you've grown taller!
— And you look well too, Brother Heonwon.
He had closely watched a comet burning away its remaining time. That young star had called him a man who was like an older brother.
To hell with the Killing Gate.
Heonwon Chang asked himself.
...Do I possess righteousness and spirit?
Do I have the courage to step into the same realm as my younger brother?
At this moment, the Geum Seon-hwi within him did not answer.
Hummmm—
Only the long Desolate Fortress Sword hanging at his waist vibrated in response.
That was enough. Straightening his shoulders, Heonwon Chang hesitated no longer.
Dozens of lines of mnemonics rose in his mind and linked together, beginning to permeate the meridians of his entire body.
He constantly recalled the delicate sensations unique to the Vast Art Formula.
Seven Pillars Blood-Sealing Great Method. Temporary Release.
Squeezing through the dark encirclement of the elders, faint streams of light began to leak from his body.
* * *
"The Clan Head will arrive soon," said a man of massive build clad in a white robe.
It was the Great Ritual Sword, Moyong Gi-hwang.
Wearing a mask of the Ox-Demon King carved with bull horns, he exuded the seasoned, cunning aura of a veteran swordsman.
Even with his arms crossed, intangible sword qi emanated from his entire body, gouging the ground around his feet into countless circular patterns.
The young man wearing the mask of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven stood slightly apart from him and spoke.
"We must obtain it before then."
"You speak of the Heavenly Demon Armor when you cannot even handle the Commander of the Demonlight Wing right in front of your eyes?"
"You know it is only a matter of time. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to kill the Desolate Fortress's greatest rising star."
"You seem certain."
"I sent the Meteor Sword Formation in first, thinking that you, Uncle, might dislike fighting an exhausted Commander of the Demonlight Wing."
A thick fog of dust hung before the two men. The clashing of swords and the sickening sound of tearing flesh and bone continuously echoed from within.
Moyong Myeong-jun had retreated the moment he faced Jeong Yeon-shin.
He had approached with bravado, but the light in the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's eyes was truly extraordinary.
It was enough to instantly wither his courage to face a top expert's life-saving ultimate technique.
He believed it would be wiser to step forward and claim the credit only after a few breaths had passed.
That moment was now.
"I shall return shortly," he said.
Soon, a cold reply came back.
"I am not going with you."
"I know. You favor my sister, Uncle."
Moyong Myeong-jun smirked.
His uncle, the second most powerful man in the family, did not view Moyong Myeong-jun as fit to be the Clan Head.
He believed Moyong Su-ran, whose talent and character both shone brightly, was the one truly suited for the position.
He claimed that the current Young Master's temperament was better suited for a hidden sword.
Moyong Myeong-jun entered the dust, unbothered.
A shadow stood blankly within the haze, its shoulders slightly slumped. It was painful to even guess how many corpses lay scattered around it.
The men who had ambushed the Commander of the Demonlight Wing were elite swordsmen Moyong Myeong-jun had personally trained.
"Lotus Nezha! The ignorant fools of Shanxi call you the incarnation of Prince Nezha!" he shouted.
"But if you struggle this much against the swords of my subordinates, who are mere mortals, then those lotus petals—said to be sharp enough to sever the Jegal Clan Leader's neck—will never reach me!"
"...Come here."
A low voice vibrated through the dust. Moyong Myeong-jun's shoulders flinched slightly.
At the same time, his toes stomped the ground, as if to erase his momentary display of weakness.
"The scent of blood is thick! And just as expected, you haven't even erected an internal energy barrier! I heard from the Clan Head himself that the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's body protection qi is mediocre compared to his swordplay! If you have any strength left, come at me!"
A considerable amount of time had passed since the initial clash.
His uncle, who had come to look upon Moyong Myeong-jun coldly due to a certain incident, would not help him.
He was an eccentric man who would gladly push Moyong Su-ran forward if the Young Master died here. The Great Ritual Sword, Moyong Gi-hwang, was a hypocrite who was highly insidious yet deeply valued honor.
Moyong Myeong-jun wanted to drain the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's strength by any means necessary. If he could take the bastard's head himself, it would be the icing on the cake.
Just then.
Pitter-patter.
An anomalous presence dashed along the distant wall. It was extremely small.
A squirrel with soft, brown fur fluttering in the wind was leaping across the walls. A small wooden box was strapped to its tiny back.
A pure, clear fragrance spread through the air.
A spirit beast of Shaolin...? The one said to be skilled in tracking...
In an instant, Moyong Myeong-jun's eyebrows shot up.
The battle had dragged on too long. Long enough that it wouldn't be strange for a new variable to interfere.
"That! Catch that thing first! It must not fall into the hands of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing!"
Whoosh!
Over a dozen figures dashed toward the direction he pointed.
They were all swordsmen carrying blades. The lull in the battle with the Commander of the Demonlight Wing was brief; the moment the order was given, they tore through the air, bolstered by swift movement techniques.
The wind whipping violently past his ears felt incredibly reassuring.
"Swordsmen, feel free to speak your minds!"
Moyong Myeong-jun's shout was closer to an order to join in the provocation.
The masked swordsmen responded.
"The fight is dragging on! Isn't it getting too boring?!"
"Is the one before us truly the Lotus Nezha?"
"They say the current Commander of the Demonlight Wing has a violent temper, yet his moves only prove the rumors to be a joke!"
The corners of Moyong Myeong-jun's mouth curled upward.
"You must have come seeking the Heavenly Demon Armor. As expected, you have nothing right now. Neither body protection qi, nor even the martial prowess befitting the name of Lotus Nezha..."
Suddenly, the Moyong Young Master's vision was dyed white. A dry haze of light obscured his eyes, preventing him from seeing the elongated shadow stretching out from behind it.
Without a sound, it swept past Moyong Myeong-jun's neck.
Slice.
The presence that suddenly stepped beside him was utterly hollow. It was true terror itself.
"The Moyong Young Master hastens his own death with useless chatter."
A cheerful voice rang out from right beside him.
Moyong Myeong-jun’s jaw fell open, his eyes rolling down in a futile attempt to see. There was no way for him to spot the thin, blood-red line that had just been drawn across his neck.
“…The Demonlight Wing is his body protection qi.”
The whisper came from a shadow of a man, a Hero’s Headband tied around his forehead.
With a flick of his sword, the pale energy of the Vast Art Formula scattered like mist. At that exact moment, Moyong Myeong-jun's head tumbled to the ground.
Across the clearing, the heads of the men who had lunged for the squirrel dropped clean off their shoulders.
At the same time, through the swirling dust, the fleeing squirrel’s gaze met Jeong Yeon-shin’s.
They knew each other.
A moment later, the mystical squirrel severed the cord around its waist with its tiny claws. The wooden box strapped to the Shaolin spirit beast’s back shot through the air, drawn by an unseen force.
The sight froze the advancing swordsmen in their tracks.
The wooden box flew into Jeong Yeon-shin's hand.
Thud.
Five blood-stained fingertips brushed across the wood’s grain.
The soft sound was deafening in the heavy silence that followed. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing had completed his resupply.
"Behold the Lotus Nezha."
The voice of the Hero of the Desolate Fortress echoed, chilling them to the bone.