Chapter 353: Sprint (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 353: Sprint (2)
“……”
A heavy silence fell.
The Jianghu onlookers surrounding the Golden Wing Sect's manor, as well as the experts from the two factions of the Thirteen Heavens, stood awkwardly atop the ash-like remnants of the formation art. Everyone was speechless.
They had just witnessed something truly extraordinary.
The beautiful young man, who had exuded a dreamlike aura simply by standing there, had vanished without a trace.
Along with him went the dozens of Murim practitioners captured as human sacrifices, as well as the experts comprising half the forces of the Tenth Sect and the Golden Wing Sect.
Originally, everyone was supposed to have departed together. The Great Technique had been designed to ensure exactly that. And its architect was none other than the "Greatest in Sichuan," the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect.
Rustle.
Her sleeves drooped. Her lips were pressed tightly shut, uttering no words, and her eyes sank into an incredibly dry, desolate stare.
That alone froze the surroundings. It was a presence that permitted no one to move, as if the hand of an invisible giant had descended upon the manor. It was a pressure far beyond mere internal energy.
Only a master who had reached the peerless realm could break this silence.
"Listen here."
It was the figure standing guard by her side. After calling out to the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect, the Lord of the Tenth Sect paused for a moment before slowly speaking once more.
"What happened? At the very end of the Great Technique, I suddenly felt a web-like wave of energy emanating from that brat, Tang Man-yeon."
"...It was stolen."
"That bastard seized control of the technique?"
"Yes."
"How could that be? No, how could you have it stolen from you? Even if his appearance possessed some kind of demonic power to bewitch people, how could a mere brat..."
"He is highly skilled. I cannot fathom his true identity," the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect murmured quietly.
The eyes of the martial artists in the clearing, including the Lord of the Tenth Sect, widened in shock.
The elite experts of the Thirteen Heavens in Sichuan Province were intimately familiar with the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect's temperament. She was someone who never offered praise, not even to her Left and Right Guardians for their profound martial arts.
"Did the two Sect Lords fail to properly sense his energy wave...? Just how profound is his method of concealing his energy?"
"It is the realm of Return to Simplicity. We were thoroughly deceived."
"Did the Desolate Fortress send a peerless expert as a spy?"
"That is absurd. Where would the watchdogs of the Imperial Family find the leeway for that? Even if we were to crush their Sichuan branch right now, they wouldn't dare say a word."
"Could it be the Young Sect Leader of the Ming Cult? Yelu Jin, the Heaven-Smiling Invincible? In the first place, not just any peerless expert can meddle with a formation art so easily."
"That arrogant man hiding his identity to act as a servant? That makes just as little sense, doesn't it?"
"Quiet."
Suddenly, the bickering of the Thirteen Heavens' experts ceased. The Lord of the Golden Wing Sect had turned around.
Step.
"We just need to perform it again," she said.
No one voiced any objections. It was a Great Technique, after all. The Golden Wing Sect had already anticipated one or two failures, meaning they had prepared spare ritual implements to reconstruct the formation art.
* * *
The current Commander of the Demonlight Wing who had to carry out his mission; the pitiful Tang Clan siblings tied to him; and the Right Guardian of the Golden Wing Sect, who had no idea he had been chosen as their guide.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not feel any particularly deep emotion over the success of hijacking the formation art. His focus on the halo in his heart, which had granted him a bizarre sensation, was fleeting.
A perfect Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak, Body Protection Qi, Unified Martial Transcendence, and a second halo. He would achieve at least two of them soon.
For now, it was best to focus on what was in front of him. An important matter was at hand.
Formation arts.
An art as mysterious as martial arts. Rather than delving into the interior of the body, it twisted and penetrated the laws of Mother Nature. It was known to be an incredibly abstruse and complex study.
If mastered properly, plunging others into hallucinations was a common feat. At its peak, one could summon wind and rain like the Jegal Clan Leader, controlling the weather at will.
And beyond that...
It was said that a formation art whose wondrous applications reached the heavens could even create a Mysterious Place between spaces.
An alternate space, difficult to perceive from the outside. Such were the tombs of ancient masters that caused bloody catastrophes across the land over a single treasure map. They were universally spoken of as utterly miraculous places.
The formation art naturally deployed by a Flood Dragon was no different.
A grassland completely isolated from the outside world, forming a paradise of its own. Its scale was simply on a different level compared to the sorcery of mere humans.
'The Natural Qi is dense. It's incomparable to the outside world.'
Would the Immortal Realm feel like this if it truly existed? Judging by the dense, mist-like sensation brushing against his skin, the ambient energy was at least seventy percent thicker than before he entered the formation.
Jeong Yeon-shin looked around. He hadn't expected a space created by a formation art to be this vast. Nor had he imagined that people would be living inside it.
"Shouldn't we inform the village chief?"
"No, look at him. It's the fist-and-foot demon! From the Dragon Slaying Alliance...!"
"They've finally made it all the way here..."
"Don't move recklessly. You'll be trampled."
"Aren't those children from the Sichuan Tang Clan? Their hands reek of oil. Their martial uniforms are similar too..."
"Oh...!"
A dozen or so short people in tattered clothing and shabby appearances glanced at the group, whispering among themselves.
Their tone didn't sound like modern speech or any known dialect. The pitch and inflections of their voices were highly unfamiliar, giving off the impression of city dwellers who had been isolated for a long time and established their own order.
Beyond them, the forest stretched out, endlessly green.
These were the Ironfolk.
Their energy waves were weak, making them appear to be mere commoners.
"I am..."
Just as Jeong Yeon-shin slightly bent his upper body, resting his hands on his knees to speak to them—
"Our Sect Lord's attainment is truly this profound."
Wanyang, who had been immersed in deep internal energy breathing with long exhalations and inhalations, suddenly opened his eyes and cut him off.
"It is as if the Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady has descended upon the mortal world. What other figure under heaven could find their way into a Flood Dragon's formation art from where they stood?"
"...Yes, quite impressive."
"Her realm has reached the heavens. Experiencing this must be the honor of three lifetimes for you."
Wanyang spoke in a low voice. The energy enveloping his body now wrapped around him transparently, like smoothly polished silk.
A truly wondrous sight. It was a realm where one could constantly manifest Body Protection Qi.
Jeong Yeon-shin merely stared at him blankly, offering no rebuttal. He was currently immersed in a mystery he had never experienced before.
'The Lord of the Golden Wing Sect.'
An absolute master of both sorcery and martial arts.
Over the long years since the founding of the Ming Dynasty, she had accumulated all kinds of ritual implements, spirit medicines, and sorcery to perform miracles. Ultimately, she had pried open the formation art where an ancient spirit beast coiled. It was an achievement rare throughout the ages.
She had unfolded a purple-ranked martial world before Jeong Yeon-shin. It was something to be grateful for.
Just then, perhaps because their conversation had eased the tense atmosphere...
"A Flood Dragon's formation art? Really?"
"I thought we were dead for sure...!"
Poison Phoenix and Poison Dragon, who had been frozen stiff in their green martial uniforms, began turning their heads this way and that.
The young lady and young master of Sichuan's greatest martial clan. Their behavior was as strikingly similar as their appearances, making it somewhat amusing.
"If we train here, the amount of Qi we can accumulate will be astronomical!"
"Look at that flower over there. What is it? It's a species I've never seen before. Is it poisonous?"
Even with two overwhelmingly powerful masters beside them, they made a fuss. The siblings, whose eyes were already large, opened them even wider before simultaneously shifting their gaze and stealthily approaching Jeong Yeon-shin.
Step.
"Are you really our cousin from a collateral branch? Which lineage are you from? Tang Man-yeon... I've never heard of the 'Man' or 'Yeon' generation name. Did the Clan Head teach you in secret?"
"I wanted to talk to you sooner. If only those damn worm-catchers hadn't kept watching us..."
As the short boy and girl chattered away, Wanyang commanded coldly, "Shut your mouths."
Swoosh—!
The wave of energy overflowing from his voice swept over the surrounding bushes. Some leaves were even left with deep, crushed marks.
"...!"
The Tang Clan siblings froze instantly.
Even if they were geniuses competing for the title of the greatest rising star in the vast Sichuan Province, they were no match for a seasoned peak expert who had long built his martial reputation as one of the two great guardians of the Golden Wing Sect.
No matter how strong their vigor and pride, they could not claim a seat among the Five Bright Vessels. It was difficult for them to even follow in the footsteps of the Desolate Fortress's Flash Art, whom they admired so much.
"Who gave you permission to speak?" Wanyang scolded the siblings in a stern tone. "Discipline is not only important when hunting spirit beasts. Having arrived in an unfamiliar, perilous land, you should naturally regulate your breathing to raise your capabilities. Only then can you at least serve as bait."
He clicked his tongue.
His arrogant attitude made him look almost like an elder of the Tang Clan. However, the words he added as he walked toward the Ironfolk were anything but.
Step.
"Now I see why the Tang Clan fell. It was quite a sight. To think the so-called Tang Clan Leader would have his flying swords snatched away so pathetically... even if his opponent was our Sect Lord."
"What did you say?"
"You! How dare you!"
The twins' eyes grew sharp. It was a reaction bordering on fury. Anyone in their position would have reacted the same way.
Whoosh—!
Jeong Yeon-shin imagined how he would react if a warrior of the Demonlight Wing, rather than his father Jeong Pan-ak, were insulted.
As he watched, a thin vortex rose at the feet of the Tang Clan siblings, ruffling the grass.
'A chaotic age... They say the conflict between the Jianghu and the Murim is deepening by the day. It will explode eventually.'
He silently lowered one hand diagonally, blocking the siblings from advancing.
The Flood Dragon's formation art was an unfamiliar place. He had to let someone who had been here before guide them voluntarily. This was especially true considering the Seventh Apostle and the Young Sect Leader of the Ming Cult had failed to join them here immediately due to unforeseen circumstances.
To an expert who had achieved the Unity of Essence, Qi, and Spirit, tortures like the Muscle-Splitting and Bone-Dislocating Technique would not work.
'In any case, did they make it?'
Just as the smoothly smiling face of the blindfolded Seventh Apostle flashed through his mind—
"No! Absolutely not! Open the village's formation art?!"
"A long time has passed. Lowlifes who do nothing but offer spectacles to the Flood Dragon dare to talk back."
"Even if the Molten Spirit Divine Fist says so..."
Immediately after the words of one of the Ironfolk were cut short, a dull thud was followed by a brief, choked scream.
Wanyang had kicked him.
"I know that the greedy Flood Dragon brought the sapling of the World Tree here."
The right-hand man of the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect curled his lips in irritation. At his low laughter, the surrounding air rippled translucently.
It was an extremely profound mastery of internal energy. The Ironfolk, who had bent down to surround their kicked companion, trembled.
"Your village chief must know all the earth veins of this land. I will have him find the locations of our scattered disciples."
There was no answer. Only groans returned.
But Wanyang did not press for an answer. He had already recognized the look of submission in the eyes of these lowly creatures.
"No better than slaves. You only understand when I strike."
"Just like the Sichuan Tang Clan," he muttered under his breath, gesturing to Jeong Yeon-shin with a smirk. It was a signal to follow him along with the Tang Clan siblings.
"...Let's go."
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been spinning his halo to prevent the bastard from striking again, patted the shoulders of the Dragon-Phoenix Twin Poisons and slowly took a step forward.
Yet, now was still a time to endure.
'First, the safety of my seniors.'
He was no longer a boy who couldn't tell heaven from earth, but an adult.
Step.
The damp soil. His concerns for the greater cause left footprints with every step he took.
* * *
A village surrounded by a massive stone wall.
No, it was more like a city enveloped by a fortress. Its scale was far too immense to be called a mere village.
The constant sound of hammering iron, hoarse shouts echoing outward, and smoke rising from various places—it was incredibly lively.
The group, following exactly in the footsteps of the Ironfolk, fell silent for a moment. They had realized anew the scale of this Mysterious Place where the Flood Dragon coiled.
"Halt!"
A voice laced with powerful internal energy rang out.
A dozen or so Ironfolk martial artists on guard looked down at them with stern eyes. Unlike those who had guided Jeong Yeon-shin, these men seemed to have properly mastered internal cultivation methods.
They seemed to be living perfectly normal lives. They did not look like people swept up in a Flood Dragon's ascension, as the old legends told.
Just as Jeong Yeon-shin was looking at them with curiosity—
"What...?"
A commotion broke out atop the stone wall. It happened right after the Ironfolk experts, who had been looking down at the group while stroking their elegant beards, caught sight of Wanyang.
"Hey, Jang Sam! Who have you brought here?!" shouted the man who appeared to be the leader of the gate guards.
He was an expert holding a white spear, his short, thick arms exposed on both sides of his sleeveless martial uniform. Despite possessing a powerful energy wave, he could not hide his agitation.
"I am sorry, Elder. I had no choice..." spoke the village youth who had led Jeong Yeon-shin's group. For a brief moment, his gaze brushed past the belly of the Ironfolk woman standing beside him. It was round and swollen. She was heavily pregnant.
"Oh, you foolish man..."
With the Ironfolk spearman's sigh, the gate guards scattered to his left and right gritted their teeth and sounded the alarm.
Clang— Clang—
An incredibly loud metallic clanging, infused with internal power, echoed in all directions.
It was a reaction akin to a military force facing an invading army. The impact caused by the Right Guardian of the Golden Wing Sect alone was that immense.
Wanyang let out a smirk and spoke while standing tall.
"Bring out the village chief!"
As his voice erupted like a Lion's Roar, a massive cloud of dust swept along the stone wall blocking their path.
The immense accumulated Qi unique to a Brightfolk peak expert exerted a physical force akin to a fist wind through his voice alone. The gate guards, who had been solemnly taking their starting stances, staggered where they stood.
"That wicked bastard has finally...!" The gate captain, who was the first to regain his balance, bit his lip.
The atrocities committed by the experts of the Dragon Slaying Alliance when they first opened the formation art and entered—demanding the villagers become laborers for the alliance in exchange for slaying the Flood Dragon—flashed before his eyes.
These were madmen who had even created a bizarre martial art called the Dragon Slaying Art.
They were impossible to oppose. They were far too powerful. The villagers had been forced to constantly forge weapons for them. Naturally, they received no payment in return.
Whenever the Flood Dragon let out a roar that seemed to split heaven and earth, those bastards would hide in the civilian houses, waiting until not a single dragon scale was in sight. And using the excuse that they were not yet prepared, they forced the villagers to offer well-crafted spectacles on the altar to appease the Flood Dragon's anger.
This meant the exploitation was twofold.
The clan trapped in the Flood Dragon's formation art had nowhere else to go and was treated like slaves. This continued until the Dragon Slaying Alliance, having ultimately failed to achieve their goal, finally left this sacred and unstable space.
In the midst of all that, the one who had held all the villagers beneath his feet like a tyrant was the Molten Spirit Divine Fist. And now, he seemed even more powerful than before. It was unbelievable.
The gate captain thought: Can our new village chief handle that man?
As he was momentarily distracted by the swamp of his past memories—
"You are courting death."
Having scaled the seventy-foot-high stone wall with just a single step of his Body Protection Scripture, the Molten Spirit Divine Fist smiled thinly at the gate captain.
"For an underling to have so many idle thoughts."
"...!"
Vwoom—
The gate captain snapped his head up, his eyes reflecting Wanyang, who was clad in a hazy shroud of internal energy.
The Body Protection Qi that had always reigned as an invincible armor. It was the ultimate technique that had driven the Golden Wing Sect's Molten Spirit Divine Fist to pursue the martial art of dragon-slaying with his bare hands, unlike the other disciples.
To the Ironfolk of this city, it was synonymous with despair. Gloom settled over the faces of the gate captain and the warriors on the stone wall.
Some tightened their grips on their weapons, as if preparing for mutual destruction.
Wanyang snorted and took a step forward. He was right in front of them.
"A long time has passed. It's easy to forget."
"What are you trying to do now?"
A voice suddenly cut in from the side. It was Jeong Yeon-shin, who had scaled the stone fortress before anyone realized.
He did not wait for an answer, reaching out toward Wanyang's shoulder.
It was not a particularly swift strike. In fact, the speed at which Wanyang's lips curled upward was faster.
The Right Guardian of the Golden Wing Sect twisted his body, smiling as if this was exactly what he wanted, while whispering rapidly using the Lip-Reading Technique.
"It was pathetic watching a mere weapon try to act like a human."
Jeong Yeon-shin did not reply. He simply placed his hand on Wanyang's shoulder, which was enveloped in the shroud of internal energy.
The bastard's words and actions were trivial.
Far more important facts existed: they had reached their destination, the bastard's atrocities had crossed the line, and this Brightfolk possessed a rather interesting attainment.
Vwoom—
In an instant.
He thoroughly sensed the structure of the Body Protection Qi touching his palm. It was the process of dismantling he had always performed as naturally as breathing. It was no different from usual. Only his subsequent action was different.
Within the flow of time that had slowed to an extreme crawl...
"...?"
Wanyang’s eyebrows shot up, a sharp crease forming between them as his eyes widened in a sudden, jarring realization. Even within this agonizingly stretched fraction of a second, where the flow of time seemed to crawl at a glacial pace, the Brightfolk’s highly honed combat instincts violently flared to life. He seemed to be on the absolute verge of striking back, his dense muscles coiling tight beneath his skin as if he had finally sensed the invisible, creeping dread that had just anchored itself to his shoulder.
Yet, in the face of this impending and desperate retaliation, Jeong Yeon-shin’s face remained entirely expressionless. His features were carved from unyielding ice, completely devoid of even a single flicker of concern, hesitation, or physical exertion. To him, the Brightfolk’s frantic, instinctual reaction did not matter in the slightest. It was nothing more than the meaningless, futile twitching of prey that had already been caught firmly within the inescapable jaws of an apex predator.
At this exact, infinitesimal moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s peerless sense of Qi erupted into the physical world. It did not merely flow; it exploded outward like a raging, uncontainable wildfire originating from the very center of his palm. This torrential flood of perception and martial power swept instantaneously over Wanyang’s shoulder, mercilessly invading his personal domain and racing viciously through the intricate, hidden pathways of his entire body. Closely tailing that overwhelming sensory invasion, Jeong Yeon-shin’s own endlessly multiplying energy surged forward with lethal intent. It did not foolishly attempt to batter the barrier from the outside. Instead, it seamlessly infiltrated and sliced through the Brightfolk's formidable Body Protection Qi from the inside out, acting like tens of thousands of microscopic, razor-sharp blades systematically dismantling an impenetrable fortress from within its own walls.
It was a flawless, instantaneous reverse-calculation of the enemy's internal power structure.
First came the conceptual, severing sharpness of Sword Qi, cleanly cutting the foundational links and energetic meridians that held Wanyang's defensive aura together. Then followed the crushing, invisible devastation of the Internal Heavy Hand Technique, shattering the remaining structural integrity of the energy barrier with ruthless, overwhelming efficiency.
Immediately after laying absolute waste to the internal framework of his opponent's defense, Jeong Yeon-shin seamlessly transitioned the nature of his assault. With a mere thought, he activated the Suction Formula of the Myriad Blossoms Rain, channeling its profound, vortex-like pull directly through the Laogong Point situated in the dead center of his palm.
Hwaaaaak—!
A powerful, roaring shockwave of pulling force tore through the stagnant air of the battlefield. Driven by this overwhelming, inescapable suction, Wanyang’s once-impenetrable Body Protection Qi was violently and forcefully peeled away from its original master. The stolen, shimmering energy rapidly covered Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand, greedily climbed up the length of his arm, and within the blink of an eye, completely enveloped his entire body in a stolen shroud of martial power.
“…!”
A look of profound, silent shock rapidly spread across Wanyang’s suddenly pale face, his mouth falling slightly agape in mute, paralyzing horror. It was the devastating, world-shattering realization that occurred immediately after Jeong Yeon-shin had effortlessly stripped off the thick armor of internal energy the bastard had been so arrogantly wearing, only to casually don it himself as if trying on a newly tailored garment.
“Low grade,” Jeong Yeon-shin said.
His voice was calm, flat, and utterly devoid of tension, sounding exactly like a ruthless merchant coldly appraising a remarkably disappointing piece of merchandise.