Chapter 329: Grandfather and Grandson (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 329: Grandfather and Grandson (2)
This was a stage of experience prepared for a grandson. Having donned the purple robe, attained the rank of Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, and become the master of the Sword of Divine Attainment, he now needed to accumulate monumental achievements.
In an instant, it felt as if a typhoon had descended.
Although the pathway of his Upper Dantian's ability collided with Ma Yeon-jeok, the actual shockwave emanated from Jeong Yeon-shin.
The howling gale was immense, tearing through the air as if trying to rip space itself to shreds.
Whoosh—!
The spirituality of his Upper Dantian instantly transformed into a violent gale. Though fundamentally different in nature from True Qi, it swept in all directions like a tidal wave of internal power.
Dust from the yellow-earth clearing was kicked up, raising a thick cloud of powder as if a Thunderbolt Bomb had detonated.
The invisible pathway warped. Colliding with Ma Yeon-jeok's head, it shattered into pieces.
In the midst of that chaos, for a fleeting moment, a colossal presence surged from the entire body of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, the master of the Flash Art.
It was as if an invisible dragon had suddenly coiled itself around him. A shadow of vast proportions cast itself over the mountain peak before vanishing.
In that split second, an immense sense of liberation washed over Jeong Yeon-shin's entire body. It felt as though his innate senses and his internal energy were achieving perfect unity.
But it was brief. The sensation unraveled almost immediately.
Yet, that alone was enough to extinguish the sword light that had filled Jeong Yeon-shin's vision.
The Moyong Clan Head had withdrawn his Meteor Sword Art with an absurdly precise control over his internal energy. Only fragments of the sword strike's shockwave—a mix of white and colorless light—fluttered in the air.
It was said that the bodies of peerless swordsmen existed in a state akin to the Heart-Governed Sword. This meant their subconscious actions translated directly into lightning-fast strikes.
Because their bodies moved at the speed of their mental imagery without limits, rumors claimed that certain peerless Brightfolk masters, possessing terrifyingly deep mastery over internal energy, could kill a person with their energy waves the very instant they willed it. Naturally, this meant the reverse was also possible.
The moment the mind of the Moyong Clan Head, the Star-Brilliance Great Sword Lord, faltered, his sword strike was withdrawn.
Thus, Jeong Yeon-shin was safe. He remained standing still, his eyes slightly downcast. Only his pitch-black hair fluttered wildly below his shoulders.
“…….”
Moyong Jung-rak stared quietly at the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Then, he flicked his sword once in place.
Swish!
“A peculiar trick,” he said.
“But worthy of being called an ultimate technique. I heard there was a sect that conquered Hangzhou with martial arts built purely on bluffing and bluster. Did you create this technique after hearing those rumors?”
The Moyong Clan Head had halted his strike.
To any onlooker, his sudden withdrawal was clearly born of caution against a potential counter-technique. It was highly uncharacteristic of one of the Eight Clan Leaders, a man whose every stance was said to sever a person's life as naturally as providence itself.
It was a miracle rarely seen under the heavens. The briefly altered aura of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing had been so mysterious that it was hard to find a comparison.
The Fan Dragon Lotus Art, which had shattered upon colliding with Ma Yeon-jeok, had been perceived as something entirely different from what it actually was. Instead of a decisive secret technique, it appeared to be a method designed to disrupt the rhythm of an opponent's preemptive strike.
Because it was an Upper Dantian ability utilizing spirituality, it lacked any tangible energy waves, leading the Clan Leader to likely mistake it for a type of sorcery martial art.
‘Sorcery martial arts. Perhaps it isn't that different,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought, keeping the Northern Light sword pointed downward.
In any case, it was a failure. The Fan Dragon Lotus Art did not work on his maternal grandfather. Something robust covering his grandfather's entire body had repelled the dragon formed from his mental image.
At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin sensed a certain status. It seemed to be the very threshold the Lord of the Desolate Fortress had mentioned when feeding him a piece of the World Tree's fruit.
The realm of the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.
‘Where exactly is it?’
Jeong Yeon-shin locked eyes with the dark blue glow of the Moyong Clan Head's gaze, trying to gauge whatever lay beyond it.
Perhaps because he had briefly resonated with his grandfather's spirituality, that realm felt incredibly distant, yet somehow agonizingly close.
It was then.
From the slope below.
“Ho,” the Hegemon Hero let out an exclamation of admiration.
His crossed arms loosened slightly. Soon after, his eyes rolled upward as if examining the crown of his own head.
In that instant, his long, flowing pink sleeves fluttered like the robes of an immortal. It seemed his internal energy had stirred in response to his shifting mood.
It was the natural conduct of an absolute master.
“An incredibly wondrous divine skill. I can even feel an outstanding spirit from it.”
Ma Yeon-jeok burst into a hearty laugh. Intense interest, true to his martial nature, seeped from the corners of his eyes.
“Out of concern for you, I sought to obtain something like a Flood Dragon's inner core, but you have already reached this far... I am curious about your current martial prowess. And to see you actually unleash that divine art.”
Facing the Moyong Clan Head in the clearing above, Jeong Yeon-shin immediately realized the truth. His grandfather, who had been savoring the aftereffects of the technique, had seen right through his secret art.
He had praised the profound meaning of the Fan Dragon Lotus Art—which perfectly mirrored the opponent's conditions—as an “outstanding spirit.”
Hearing such words from a former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, whose skills transcended the absolute peak, evoked a strange sensation within him.
“Irritating. Let us begin.”
The Moyong Clan Head suddenly began to stride forward. His brow was slightly furrowed like an ordinary mortal, rather than some supernatural entity.
Was he displeased at being treated like a mere spectacle? Such disrespect was practically unheard of for the master of one of the Eight Great Families.
His steps were relentless.
Step.
He closed the distance without any regard for the proper combat interval. It was as if he were declaring the entire world to be his sword sphere.
Indeed, the pressure bearing down on Jeong Yeon-shin was immense, reminiscent of the Imperial Sword Form. Wisps of translucent haze drifted continuously from the peerless swordsman of the Moyong Clan.
It was a realm where one established the domain of their blade without making a single distinct movement. He created a space where any stance—be it a fast sword or an illusion sword—would inevitably become faster and more unrestrained.
This was the power of one of the Eight Clan Leaders, the Number One of Liaodong.
Thud— Thud—
His footprints grew progressively deeper. From the earth gouged by each step, thread-like sword qi rose into the air.
It was a realm where merely preparing his sword sphere caused the surrounding space to tremble. Even the robe of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing clung tightly to his skin, constricting his movements.
To any observer, this was no longer a coordinated skirmish. It was a one-on-one duel against the Star-Brilliance Great Sword Lord, one of the Eight Clan Leaders.
This was an event that would inevitably draw the attention of not just the local martial world, but the entire Jianghu across the Nine Provinces.
A thunderous rumble erupted beneath Jeong Yeon-shin's feet.
It was the Ultimate Lightning.
The cluster of transparent flowers wrapping around his body bloomed in full splendor, accompanied by a vibration that subtly shook the ground.
The lotus-like petals blazed with a see-through intensity, emitting a hollow rumble like a lifeless thunderbolt.
Hummmmm—
They were the aftereffects of the Full Body Brilliant River, which could no longer be contained within his body and spilled outward.
An immense vitality flooded his body. Along with a searing pain that felt as if his acupoints and fine meridians were being torn apart, the spirit of the Azure Qilin surged. The air distorted over the back of Jeong Yeon-shin's hand as he gripped his sword hilt.
Moyong Jung-rak remained indifferent. He merely knit his brows slightly as he continued his relentless advance.
A miracle that commoners would revere as the work of a mountain god was reduced to an ordinary sight in the eyes of one of the Eight Clan Leaders.
“Lotus Nezha. Yes, let us see.”
Without warning, he raised his sword and struck downward. It was a casual sweep of his arm, yet it carried a magnificent, resonant tone.
Boom!
A shockwave exploded right in front of Jeong Yeon-shin's palm, rolling his sleeves up in an instant.
He had unleashed his Brilliant River with his left hand—the one not holding his sword—but the sharp energy of the strike crushed the shockwave of his palm technique entirely and dug fiercely into his flesh.
The recoil traveling up his arm was immense, vibrating numbly all the way to his elbow.
It could not be helped. He needed time before he could cast the Fan Dragon Lotus Art again, as it was a martial art that contracted the Upper Dantian like a physical muscle.
‘Ugh.’
The moment he swung his hand wide to pull back, his vision flickered white. It was the second form of the Meteor Sword.
As the fresh blood spraying from his palm stained one side of his vision, Jeong Yeon-shin formed the mnemonic of the Lightning-Flash Sword Ridge Style in the acupoints of his right hand. Qilin's Judgment. The shockwave of Fa Jin erupted violently from his entire body.
Stepping into the Radiant Wing Step, he spun backward. With his sword hand, he unleashed a fast strike that drew a perfect circle. In that instant, the lotus petals surrounding his entire body resonated.
Clang—!
It was a sword strike unleashed in tandem with the rotation of his evasive footwork. It cleanly deflected Moyong Jung-rak's blade.
In that moment, the violent vibration in his grip brought him a strange sense of satisfaction. He was not significantly outmatched in terms of raw striking power.
‘If so, this is fine.’
The Moyong Clan Head was different from the Jegal Clan Leader.
Jegal Cheon-sang had been lucky right before his death. He had coincidentally possessed the exact counter to the Ak Family Spear when he faced Ak Su-rim.
But the Moyong Clan Head did not possess a counter to the Flash Art Lineage. Even if he did, it would be nothing more than a stepping stone for Jeong Yeon-shin.
“Haha.”
Moyong Jung-rak laughed. He did not press his attack. He merely twisted his sword-wielding hand slowly this way and that.
He seemed to be savoring the lingering sensation of Jeong Yeon-shin's sword power. He was truly a man obsessed with the blade.
“You are indeed quite something. No wonder the Tyrant Sword Mad Dao spared your life.”
That was the alias of the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect. The corners of Jeong Yeon-shin's mouth curved downward coldly.
“Are you acquainted with the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect?”
“I have watched him since he was a dullard fleeing as the crown prince of a fallen nation, begging Yul-ha of Mount Hua for scraps. It was a pathetic sight. Yul-ha was already radiant even back then.”
“Yul-ha of Mount Hua” referred to the Mount Hua Sect Leader, the Saint Flower Sword God Yul Ha-nang-rang. Had they become acquainted during the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering of their generation?
“A dullard...?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked. “Do you know anything more?”
“I know all too well about his worthless dream. He was swallowed whole by his own impatience.”
The corners of Moyong Jung-rak's thick lips curled up slightly.
“But I do not think you are in any position to worry about that.”
“……?”
“How do you plan to walk out of here alive?”
Hummmm.
A white light gathered at the tip of Moyong Jung-rak's sword. The aura transmitting through the air was bone-chilling.
It felt as if the entire world had been transported to another realm. In an instant, the sky grew dark. It was just like when his grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok, had manifested his power. The dense waves of energy had literally blocked out the sunlight.
A blue light flashed in Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes.
He stared at the Neiguan point on Moyong Jung-rak's wrist, which twitched in tandem with the fingers gripping the sword hilt. Simultaneously, he scanned the hazy waves of energy that would bolster the strikes of the Meteor Sword.
The moment Moyong Jung-rak flicked his wrist, Jeong Yeon-shin perceived the exact straight path the sword would take. His nerves were focused to the absolute limit.
The Sight of the Lowly.
This was a stage where he had to mobilize every single martial art he had created up to this point. The moment he allowed even a single strike to land, he would be killed.
Although his grandfather had halted the Deep Martial Alliance, it would be difficult for Jeong Yeon-shin to make progress if this place remained a mere sparring ground. That was why his grandfather, despite flinching when blood burst from Jeong Yeon-shin's left hand, ultimately did not intervene.
‘I must go now.’
To the purple rank.
The gravel and dirt scraping beneath their feet made a harsh sound, and at the exact same time, the blurred figures of the two men collided in the center.
Claaaaang—!
In an instant, the aftereffects of the shockwave expanded like a tempest, sweeping down the slope and furiously rustling the trouser cuffs of the mounted warriors.
“……!”
The martial arts army of the Deep Martial Alliance.
The experts, who were periodically sent to the Northern Region like tribute, could not hide their astonished expressions. Some even raised their eyebrows in sheer shock.
It was a reaction they would rarely dare to show in front of the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance, a man who was akin to a king to them.
Gun Yurin, standing close to her father, paid no mind to the reactions of her subordinates. She stared intently at Jeong Yeon-shin while scratching her long, coarse black hair.
The same went for the one-armed Jeon Baek, who stood behind her; with his mouth slightly agape, it was hard to find a trace of a scholar's dignity in him.
The Lotus Nezha was clashing swords with the Star-Brilliance Great Sword Lord.
Were they actually contesting their internal power? A creaking tension in the atmosphere rolled all the way down the slope. Something utterly absurd was taking place.
With his pitch-black robes and hair fluttering wildly, Jeong Yeon-shin did not look human. The true weight of his somewhat childish alias was felt in its entirety.
Whoever had coined it had done a magnificent job. Even as he was constantly pushed back, the way the flow of the battle was shifting was visible even to the eyes of novices. It was a wondrous sight.
‘How old did they say he was? Is he even human?’
Gun Yurin was continuously astonished, yet at the same time, a sense of worry crept in.
This was because the white fur on the cloak worn by her father—the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance standing at the head of the martial arts army—had begun to stand on end.
Sssss—
An overwhelming, invisible wave of energy crept upward. Just a single brush of it made the skin sting.
It had budded right after the petals of the Lotus Nezha withered, and now it was surging so violently that it threatened to lift her father's fur cloak like a flag in the wind. It felt as if the ground beneath his feet would split open at any moment.
At this moment, Gun Yurin could have recited her father's thoughts word for word.
‘That fellow is dangerous.’
It was easy to guess. Given the delicate relationship between the Imperial Family and the Deep Martial Alliance, anyone could tell that harming the Commander of the Demonlight Wing here would invoke a massive disaster.
Yet, the Desolate Fortress was also a faction that acted as an obstacle to the Deep Martial Alliance's affairs at every turn. Such was the inevitable relationship between a Jianghu sect and the Desolate Fortress.
Her father had to be calculating the cost-benefit ratio.
He was weighing what the master of the Flash Art would look like in ten years against the imperial punishment the Deep Martial Alliance would have to endure if they severed the neck of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing right here and now.
These heavy thoughts were balancing on the scales of her father's mind.
The current Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance, the Monarch Martial Emperor Gun Wi-hu, was a peerless master. The moment his mind moved, he was more than capable of instantly stepping onto the mountain peak. It was a realm where a strike conceived in the mind was instantly manifested by the body.
No matter how powerful the interloper standing with crossed arms in the middle was, at least one strike would reach the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. And that single stance would prove fatal to Jeong Yeon-shin, who was already struggling just to handle the Moyong Clan Head.
The moment her father's figure finally blurred into motion, Gun Yurin's eyes shook slightly.
She thought, I had grown somewhat fond of him, too.
Fwoosh!
From the slope to the peak, a spectacle unfolded as if the air itself were contracting, crushing inward like closing fortress walls. It was the terrifying trace left behind by the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance, Gun Wi-hu.
The Monarch Martial Emperor's Condensed Radiance Art was a true divine art. It absolutely never permitted an opponent to evade.
It was a martial art hailed as the pinnacle of heavy arts, where the direct release of internal power preceded even the Imperial Sword Form.
It was a divine ultimate technique that wove internal energy into the natural qi to trigger an immense Void Grab. It used that magnetic force to violently pull both the opponent's body and his own together for a devastating shoulder slam.
The peerless shockwave, concentrated on his shoulder with supreme subtlety, had once shattered the internal energy barriers of hundreds of Northern Demonfolk. It was said that in all of Henan, one would struggle to find a match for him unless they sought out the Shaolin Abbot himself.
Kaaaa-boom—!
The circular shockwave that exploded a beat later rolled outward in wave after wave.
The sparse shrubs that had poked their heads out of the earth were uprooted entirely and blown away, and a tidal wave of dust stained the surroundings thick.
To the eyes of Gun Yurin, who had mastered the Deep Martial Alliance's Life-Controlling Eye Technique, her father's back was clearly visible as he carved a straight furrow toward the peak. He looked like an irresistible comet.
The internal energy barrier wrapping his entire body in translucent, colorless light was incredibly dense. It was his body protection qi, the Radiant Divine Armor. At a glance, it was over ten layers deep.
It seemed he had fully prepared his body protection scripture against someone capable of slaying a hundred-strong army. His posture suggested he was perfectly fine with allowing a single strike to land.
He had judged that slaying the Lotus Nezha while avoiding any fatal injury to himself was the most profitable outcome.
The Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance's Radiant Divine Armor was both a body protection qi and an offensive stance. This was because his signature technique was an ancient art. Now that he had drawn close to his target, the force was more than enough to completely shatter Jeong Yeon-shin's spine.
Suddenly—
Or at least, it would have been enough, until a hand clad in fragments of deep blue flame snatched the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance's forearm out of thin air. It was a massive hand, large enough to wrap around his thick arm in a single iron grip.
It happened in a mere instant. The colorless, transparent Radiant Divine Armor warped violently. It was accompanied by a screeching friction that seemed to tear at the eardrums. Blue sparks flew in all directions from that unfamiliar grip.
The Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance's pitch-black eyebrows twitched.
“You miscalculated,” a voice rang out beside him as he hung suspended in midair.
It was a man standing proudly, draped in a deep pink robe. His voice seemed to physically weigh down the atmosphere. A boiling, tyrannical power could be felt radiating from him.
“You shouldn't have done that.”
In a single, breathless instant, the chaotic battlefield seemed to freeze entirely. Ma Yeon-jeok pivoted, his entire body moving with the fluid, devastating grace of a natural disaster. As he violently twisted his waist, channeling immense, earth-shattering torque through his core and up into his shoulders, his iron grip on the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance remained absolute. With a motion so abrupt and overwhelmingly powerful that it defied the very laws of nature, he hoisted the Leader's captured arm sharply upward. The sheer kinetic force of the movement was staggering, instantly turning the once-imposing figure of his enemy into little more than a helpless ragdoll caught in the unyielding grasp of a titan.
Time itself felt as though it had ground to an agonizing, unnatural halt. This catastrophic shift in momentum occurred in a mere fraction of a heartbeat—long before the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance could even register the fatal, overwhelming danger he was in, and far before the countless surrounding onlookers could so much as widen their eyes in shock. The spectators remained frozen in place like stone statues, their faces locked in expressions of dawning horror, completely unable to process the terrifying speed and absolute dominance unfolding right before them. The entire world was suddenly reduced to this single, violent point of contact between two apex martial artists.
Beneath the deep pink fabric of his robe, the terrifying physical might of the Hegemon Hero Ma Yeon-jeok was laid bare for all to witness. Thick, prominent veins bulged violently across the back of his hand and snaked up his forearm, standing out like coiled serpents beneath his skin. His grip was an inescapable vice, a prison of flesh and bone forged from decades of relentless cultivation and countless life-or-death battles. The terrifying aura that wrapped around his fingers seemed to seep directly into his flesh, merging seamlessly with his very life force.
Within those bulging blue veins, his internal power concentrated with the terrifying, suffocating intensity of a compressed star. It burned like liquid fire, surging through his meridians in a torrential flood of pure, unadulterated martial might. When that pent-up energy finally reached its absolute peak, it violently erupted outward into the world. The devastating release unleashed a massive shockwave that tore through the air, carrying with it a deafening, thunderous boom that sounded exactly like the furious, earth-shaking roar of an ancient dragon awakening from its long slumber.
Then came the sound that would haunt the nightmares of everyone present. A sharp, sickening, and utterly horrific rriiiip echoed across the suddenly silent battlefield. It was the unmistakable, stomach-churning noise of dense muscle fibers snapping, thick tendons giving way, and heavy bone being forcibly wrenched from its socket. Driven by the explosive burst of his draconic internal power, Ma Yeon-jeok mercilessly yanked upward. In one fluid, hyper-violent motion, the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance’s arm was ripped entirely clean from his torso, sending a gruesome, spectacular shower of crimson blood spraying wildly into the tense, heavy air.