Chapter 327: Shaking the Heavens (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 327: Shaking the Heavens (6)
A cloud of dust swirled under the stark white sun.
Void Stepping and Sword Flight.
The contrast between the two figures was striking—a sight rarely seen under the heavens. Moyong Jung-rak, the Star-Brilliance Great Sword Lord, walked on air, while Jeong Yeon-shin, the Lotus Nezha, floated serenely, riding the sword he had drawn in the blink of an eye.
As dust kicked up from their clash drifted like mist, their confrontation resembled a scene from a painted scroll.
From below, the dazed gasps of the onlookers drifted up. The Commander of the Demonlight Wing could also hear the voices of his three companions.
“My goodness… so what I saw back then really was Sword Control! It's only sinking in now.”
“He was so jealous of the young master’s height, and this is how he solves it? So typical of our commander…”
“Is that… Sword Flight?!”
Their words were a mix of banter and astonishment—typical of the Demonlight Wing. Even in the direst of moments, they always found room for levity.
Huuuuuum—
Standing atop the white Northern Light Sword, Jeong Yeon-shin stared silently ahead.
His gaze met the figure of the Moyong Clan Head, who was shrouded in a gray current of air.
“……”
The eyes of the Number One of the North held a colorless, piercing light. The pressure was overwhelming. His gaze alone felt as if it had been forged from dozens of compressed sword blades. Though only a silhouette was visible through the dust, he seemed more than human.
Jeong Yeon-shin pondered the difference between him and the Jegal Clan Leader.
‘A martial power accumulated purely within the physical body…’
It was different from martial arts that relied on sorcery. This meant his strength didn't come from devastatingly heavy strikes or an infinite variety of techniques.
He was simply strong. He was formidable without needing to mobilize sorcery formations or dharma treasures. His entire life was contained within that single sword, whatever kind of life that may have been.
Perhaps because their martial lineages were completely different, it was difficult to judge which of the two clan leaders was superior. Yet, the martial prowess of the Eight Clan Leaders could not all be equal. It was said that the stronger one became, the vaster their world became. Since even Black Rank experts varied wildly in skill, the gap between those who led the great sects must be even more immense.
‘Either way, I have to fight on the ground.’
He couldn't handle this while maintaining Sword Flight. A warrior using Void Stepping, who could freely unleash their sword techniques, held a natural advantage. Besides, he had taken to the air for one reason: to draw Moyong Jung-rak’s attention. He had to ensure the peerless swordsman's next strike wasn't aimed at an innocent target.
Just then.
“Cast aside your stray thoughts.”
The shadow, standing tall and straight, spoke.
“This is no time for anything but honing your sword Qi.”
The absolute master of Liaodong spoke. On the surface, it sounded like advice. He offered no pleasantries, no explanations. The Star-Brilliance Great Sword Lord no longer looked down, his gaze fixed solely on Jeong Yeon-shin. This, despite knowing that the Moyong Young Master had died at the hands of the Demonlight Wing Commander’s subordinate.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t answer.
There was no need for words with a person like this. It was foolish to attempt negotiations with a monster holding a sword. The man was Heonwon Chang’s enemy, and Jeong Yeon-shin had stood by as the man's son died. In the Jianghu, theirs was a grudge that could never be resolved, even if one of them were to wash their hands in a golden basin.
‘If I die, so be it. I will fulfill my duty.’
He circulated the halo qi of his heart through the fine meridians of his face. The moment the energy passed through the Tongziliao Points at the corners of his eyes, a blue light flashed in his gaze.
The Sight of the Lowly was active. The halo qi coursed back and forth through the meridians between his optic nerves and his Baihui Point.
At that same instant, his vision flared white.
A sword technique from the Moyong Clan’s Meteor Sword. It lunged at him without warning.
‘Let’s go.’
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke to the Northern Light Sword. The blade responded instantly to its master’s will, unlike his body, which had yet to achieve the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak.
He soared upward, riding the sword.
Fwoooosh—!
His field of vision shifted. The moment he felt a crushing pressure on the crown of his head, his surroundings dissolved into thin lines, and a barren mountain peak unfolded before him.
He had escaped the deep cavern in a single breath. The air flowing into his lungs felt far crisper.
Rumble—
A thunderous roar echoed from far below. A violent wind whipped past the tips of Jeong Yeon-shin’s boots as he stood upon the Northern Light Sword. It was the aftermath of that peerless sword strike. Even though he had clearly evaded it, the sheer force of the attack shook the air dozens of yards away.
“You…”
A faint trace of surprise laced the voice.
Along with the violent vibrations, Moyong Jung-rak’s voice grew clearer as a figure surged up from below. The Number One of the North ascended, treading the void as if swimming through the sky. He exuded an aura of absolute confidence, as if he could capture the experts of the Killing Gate at any moment. But in his list of priorities, the Lotus Nezha had taken precedence.
“You will leave your head here.”
He finished the sentence right in front of Jeong Yeon-shin’s face.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing almost thanked him sarcastically. It was the same arrogance he’d come to expect from his enemies. In a situation where survival was far from guaranteed, their predictability made his mind feel much lighter.
They faced each other in the brightly descending sunlight.
He was a middle-aged man with exceptionally thick eyebrows. His honest yet fierce expression was combined with a transcendent aura. Clad in a spotless white robe, he looked like a divine general from the heavens.
In mid-air, Jeong Yeon-shin silently crossed over a peak. Moyong Jung-rak, holding his sword pointed downward, trailed behind him with an unnerving, ghostly slowness.
Thud.
The Commander of the Demonlight Wing landed on a clay-colored clearing, feigning composure. Moyong Jung-rak also stepped onto the ground with a rigid posture.
As swordsmen, the solid ground beneath their feet—a place to root themselves and generate force—was far more comfortable. After the dull thud of their footsteps echoed, the silence filling the space between them grew even denser.
They were on a rocky, barren mountain.
Ten feet separated them. To peerless experts, this was practically arm’s reach.
Meeting Moyong Jung-rak’s gaze, Jeong Yeon-shin reached out to his side.
Grab.
The hilt of the floating Northern Light Sword slipped into his palm. At the same time, he projected a mental image toward the Moyong Clan Head: a fan made of light beams from the Northern Light Sword.
Divine Art Secret Technique: Fan Dragon Lotus Art.
A dragon manifested in his mind, grasping the White Crane Fan. Just as it was about to soar toward the crown of the Moyong Clan Head’s skull—
Thud-thud-thud—
The sound of horse hooves.
The massive presence of men and horses galloped toward them at incredible speed. Jeong Yeon-shin, whose every sense had been focused on the Moyong Clan Head, was late to perceive it.
Moyong Jung-rak seemed to be in the same position, though he turned his head a fraction of a second faster than Jeong Yeon-shin.
A massive cloud of dust rose over the ridge, accompanied by a rumbling resonance—the sound of over a hundred men acting as one.
“The Deep Martial Alliance,” Moyong Jung-rak muttered.
Jeong Yeon-shin had already guessed as much.
It was a martial arts army, something he had only ever heard of. They were different from the forces led by Gun Yurin. The waves of qi they emitted were uniformly robust, suggesting they were an elite force even within the Deep Martial Alliance.
At their vanguard, a man in a fur coat that reached his feet flew just above the ground. He was immense, shrouded in a translucent wave of qi like a fortress wall. His Body Protection Scripture was so impressive it made him look like an immortal wandering the mortal realm. Yet, contrary to his transcendent demeanor, his terrifying glare seemed to carve through the very air as he approached.
The atmosphere trembled. An invisible battle standard, woven from their combined internal energy, soared into the heavens.
Thud-thud-thud-thud—!
They maintained a sword formation even while mounted. Their internal energies, synchronized like invisible threads, amplified as they drew closer. Every single one of them galloped forward with their sword tips pointed at Jeong Yeon-shin. These were the men led directly by the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance; one could guess their formidable power without even facing them.
“Gun Wi-hu. So you’ve made up your mind.”
The corners of Moyong Jung-rak’s mouth curled up slightly. Was this the composure of a peerless expert? Even on the verge of facing an opponent of equal caliber, he didn’t lose his unique calm. It was likely because he knew he could withdraw at any moment.
He slowly turned his head back toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
“They say you excel at short, decisive battles. I shall take your head before they arrive.”
“You seem rather relaxed,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied curtly, once again conjuring the image of the Fan Dragon.
“The Sword Saint is not here,” Moyong Jung-rak continued. “And the corpse of Namgung A-hae will not protect you.”
He was referring to the events at the Martial World Alliance. The Number One of the North paid no heed to the encroaching army. He and the Commander of the Demonlight Wing were acquaintances, having crossed paths several times during the Sect Founding Ceremony. At that time, Jeong Yeon-shin had empowered the Alliance Leader, the Sword Saint, by retrieving the corpse of the Azure Qilin from the Jegal Clan. It was an act that had chipped away at the prestige of the Moyong Clan Head, who had been allied with the Jegal Clan Leader. To preserve its standing, the Moyong Clan had been forced to sever ties.
Moyong Jung-rak was pointing out Jeong Yeon-shin’s current predicament. Here, neither backing nor justification would protect him. It was a correct assessment.
There was no Sword Saint, no watchful eyes of the Nine Sects, no allies like Hahu Wi-jin’s Forest-Treading Unit or Ak Su-rim, the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress. Nor was there the corpse of the Azure Qilin, which had silenced the Orthodox Martial World. This place was beyond the reach of the era’s spirit, where everyone was busy stabbing each other in the back. Not even the massive force that had annihilated the Hwangbo Clan two years ago could be summoned.
A force with the Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit—one of the Three Black Strengths—a fully-limbed Ma Jin, the Commander of the Azure Sky Unit with his profound sorcery sword arts, and seventy Blue Ranks of the Desolate Fortress would be nigh invincible. But such a force could hardly be assembled again. Everyone was too busy with their own missions.
The great sects had accumulated power under the oppression of the Desolate Fortress, and now the times were changing. The Hanzhong Martial World Alliance was merely the opening shot. Throughout the lands, the people of the Jianghu were snapping the imperial court's leash. The Desolate Fortress could no longer preemptively stop the sects from collaborating. This was why the Main Fortress Chief Steward's Office constantly complained of being shorthanded.
Complete isolation.
At this moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s plight mirrored that of the Desolate Fortress itself. All he had were the hearts of his three Demonlight Wing members, who must be bursting up from the ground any second now.
A martial arts army of over a hundred ascending in a sword formation. Two leaders of great sects, each with an overwhelming presence.
This was the Jianghu in which the Lotus Nezha lived. He had become a figure of immense focus, just like the Divine Spear who represented the Desolate Fortress.
`[Discard your sword.]`
A dry voice struck his mind like a thunderbolt—Six Harmonies Sound Transmission. It came from the vanguard of the mounted warriors. The Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance, approaching with the lofty posture of a sovereign king, continued.
`[Commander of the Demonlight Wing, Jeong Yeon-shin. If you do not resist, you will be treated with the courtesy due to a prisoner. Do not raise your sword just because you stand before Moyong Jung-rak.]`
The voice of the Deep Martial Alliance Leader gradually faded. He hadn't lowered his voice. In his throat, a wave of impossibly pure qi flashed colorlessly. He was a man whose Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak had reached its limit, whose every minute movement resonated with internal power. He might have already set foot into the Five Qi Converging to the Origin, where one's very blood and pulse become extensions of their martial power. The shimmering energy in his throat meant he was physically moving his vocal cords.
`[This is—]`
The absolute master's words, suddenly cut short, drifted away like an echo.
“You pests.”
Fwoooosh—!
The moment the rough voice plunged down from the sky, the sunlight seemed to unravel in all directions like threads from a spool. It was as if the world was confusing day and night.
As countless rays of light bent in streams, shadows flickered rapidly beneath them. Colorless fragments of true qi cast shadows everywhere before vanishing.
Sssssss—
The source was a black dot in the distant sky. It rapidly grew larger, accompanied by a wave of qi that poured down like a tsunami.
A handsome man with bold, distinct features appeared, looking to be around thirty years old. As his figure descended with arms crossed, concentric ripples of force constantly surged outward from him. The air around his body warped and flattened in a deep pink hue. Amidst this, the hem of his long robe and the purple tassel on his sword’s hilt remained eerily still.
His demeanor held neither elegance nor dignity. Yet, to those on the ground, it was like watching a god of chaos and violence descend, tearing through space with his body alone.
The image of the man sweeping one of his sleeves through the air was etched into the sky.
It was a single strike of Fa Jin.
A mystical blue wave of force fell upon the heads of the charging mounted warriors. In an instant, circular shockwaves of deep blue energy layered over one another. A heavy vibration distorted space like a heat haze.
Harmonious Bloom Smoke and Ash Method: Sword Yang.
Pshhhhhk—!
Over a hundred men and their horses were simultaneously crushed and shattered to pieces. As their blood burst out in a wide explosion, it evaporated into white steam and vanished, while fragments of the blue flames fluttered down like flower petals.