Chapter 357: Sprint (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 357: Sprint (6)
It was a technique to conceal the energy waves radiating from the Divine Blood Ultimate Demon.
It wasn't used solely for hiding one's identity. It was also highly effective in clashes between masters. Deceiving an opponent's sense of qi was essentially the same as using a feint.
This was how the supreme martial artists of the Jianghu could dodge a strike coming from behind. The internal power within their bodies constantly sensed the outside world, transcending the five senses.
It was no different now.
The old masters standing guard at the manor's main gate—the two old men blocking Jeong Yeon-shin's path—could not fully perceive the rotation of his halo.
They merely raised their white eyebrows, looking as if they were facing a martial art with an unusually loud activation. Right now, they viewed the spiraling, turbulent currents in Jeong Yeon-shin's palms as nothing more than an empty threat.
This was likely because, as experienced old masters, they could easily mimic such a display themselves.
Flutter—
The hems of the old men's robes fluttered in the whipping vortex as they stood with their hands clasped behind their backs. They looked like leisurely immortals. They truly looked the part of those who had come to hunt a flood dragon.
The two old men casually exchanged words while looking at Jeong Yeon-shin.
"That old fogey... still hasn't lost his temper, I see."
"He seems to think he's still in the world of those kids outside, not the Jianghu of the Twin Kings and Three Lords."
"Look at that temper, and look at that wind. He must have trained in a tyrannical martial art. I wonder how many kids he had serving him out there."
"But who is he?"
"Are we the only ones who went into seclusion as soon as we arrived here? Taemo Mountain Fortress didn't unite us. It merely opened the gates."
These were people who had come via the sorcery martial arts of Taemo Mountain Fortress, not the Golden Wing Sect. They mistook Jeong Yeon-shin for a master of the previous generation who had arrived alongside them.
They spoke with the characteristic, easygoing demeanor of old masters who had cultivated for a long time. The old men standing directly in front of Jeong Yeon-shin didn't seem to register what the rough character 'Hwang' on his shoulder truly meant.
"Listen, I'll give you a piece of advice out of concern. If you don't want to end up like those slaves down there, your identity..."
The old man on the left stopped mid-sentence. Realizing he had just referred to the Ironfolk artisans of the village as slaves, he snapped his mouth shut.
The old master's attitude—which hadn't shown a hint of envy even toward rejuvenation—shifted into faint bewilderment the moment his eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin's indifferent gaze.
'They speak like the local aristocrats of the Eight Families, despite having trained in Taoist martial arts.'
Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself as he silently took a step toward the two old men.
In the Ming Dynasty, no citizen was allowed to own slaves. They had to strictly adhere to the employment system, meaning they could only hire people by paying them wages. The Ming Imperial Family had strictly forbidden the ownership of slaves, serfs, or indentured servants for generations.
In the laws of the Yuan Dynasty, which they had overthrown, there was a clause stating that 'slaves are like property.' The Ming Imperial Family was fiercely hostile toward such traditions of the previous dynasty.
In the early days of the empire's founding, they had gone so far as to exterminate nine generations of a martial arts sect near Nanjing that had captured Brightfolk men and women to use as slaves, making a brutal example of them.
Therefore, when the Hwangbo Clan was exterminated for privately conscripting commoners for labor, the only ones who protested that the Desolate Fortress's hand was too harsh were the people of the martial world.
That was how the imperial family ruled the country. They made examples of rebels who ignored the Great Ming Code and failed to pay workers their rightful wages.
The manor of the Ghost-Howling Hegemon, visible behind the old men, was magnificent.
The spaces between the elegantly extending roofs felt like sculptures rather than mere structures, clearly the handiwork of Ironfolk artisans.
"Did you pay the artisans their due?"
As Jeong Yeon-shin asked this, the old man on the right slowly raised both arms into a starting stance and shot back, "What nonsense is this?"
"He secluded himself in the deep mountains and valleys and even achieved rejuvenation, so he must view the world beneath him. He doesn't know how high the heavens are," the old man on the left chimed in.
It was the typical speech and behavior of those who used martial arts to coerce others.
It was an attitude Jeong Yeon-shin had encountered more than a few times while carrying out his duties as a warrior of the Desolate Fortress.
Now that a fire had been lit in his heart after witnessing the heavenly mandate of the Tang siblings, his effort to ask—just in case he might be striking innocent people—felt entirely wasted.
He extended both hands forward.
The two old men reacted swiftly. Standing their ground, they each took charge of one of Jeong Yeon-shin's hands—one for his right, one for his left—and thrust their palms forward to push him back.
It was a double-handed palm technique. A vast, hollow wave of internal power rippled from the old masters' bodies.
Rejuvenation was not something achieved simply by having profound martial arts. One's enlightenment, fated encounters, and the divine arts they mastered all had to be extraordinary.
But because reversing the physical toll of time did not make one invincible, the old men refused to back down. Their hands, unleashing translucent palm winds to block each of Jeong Yeon-shin's palms, bore witness to their long-held confidence.
And so, their hands collided.
Kabaaaam!
In an instant, the earth shook, and the main gate behind the old masters was completely blown to pieces.
It was a terrifying shockwave.
Even the plaque engraved with the words 'Hidden-Realm Peng Clan' shattered into pieces and soared into the air. The figures of the two old masters were flung in opposite directions through the suddenly billowing dust.
At the same time, the blood gushing from their mouths mingled with the dirt and stone fragments.
Step.
Jeong Yeon-shin's pitch-black robes brushed through the thick dust.
He had no interest in the well-being of the old masters, who had crashed through the walls on either side with heavy thuds, leaving massive cracks before disappearing. The look of sheer shock that had briefly flickered in their eyes didn't linger in his mind, either.
It was then.
"It seems the Jang kids failed to receive our distinguished guest properly. I offer my sincere apologies."
Along with a refreshing voice, a breeze blew in, settling the dust.
The voice carried a gentle pressure, proving the deep internal power of the person who had just expressed his regrets to Jeong Yeon-shin.
Jeong Yeon-shin raised his head.
A man with ears as sharp as the tips of leaves was looking down at him from midair, his hands clasped behind his back.
It was a supreme display of Void Stepping.
He exuded an aura that suited his light-green robe rippling in the wind. He possessed the gentle, breeze-like demeanor characteristic of Brightfolk warriors, yet no distinct momentum could be read from him.
He appeared to have just passed his thirties. His features looked remarkably human, but since he was clearly of the Brightfolk, it was difficult to guess his true age at a glance.
"I am Lee Si-myeong," the man said with a faint smile, raising his clasped hands in greeting.
A strange gleam flickered in Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes.
It was a name he had heard from Hahu Wi-jin. He was one of the exceptionally powerful individuals among 'those who arrived first.' A powerhouse who, out of love for the Ghost-Howling Hegemon Peng Yeo-ran, had become her right-hand man.
'The Wind Lord, Lee Si-myeong.'
He was said to hold a seat among the Twin Kings and Three Lords. He was the last successor of the Wind-Bath Sect, whose lineage was now broken and lost.
Considering that the other two of the Three Lords were old masters of the Kunlun Sect and the Beggar Sect respectively, he was not someone to be underestimated just because his sect lacked a grand reputation.
"Seeing that the precious sword of the Desolate Fortress has come, it seems the Golden Wing Sect has succeeded in the great technique for the second time. In any case, those gatekeepers didn't even properly look at the shoulder of our guest... They got what they deserved."
The man's smile never faded as he continued.
"That free-spirited aura. I can faintly sense the Demonlight Formula within your body. It seems the rising generation of the Yangtze River is indeed formidable."
One of the Twin Kings and Three Lords. The Wind Lord, Lee Si-myeong.
He was a master of the previous generation. Just how thick was his Brightfolk blood? The way he stared down at Jeong Yeon-shin with his bluish eyes was uncanny.
The Demonlight Formula was the martial art Jeong Yeon-shin had learned as soon as he entered the Desolate Fortress. It was a martial principle centered on executing the most efficient forms according to the situation. This was the first time an enemy had identified it first.
Those bluish eyes, unique to the noble clan and said to pierce through to the truth, had read one of the core fundamentals of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly.
"Then you must know why I am here."
"I know you are different from the martial artists of this land who target the flood dragon. Have you not come to find the one who will become our clan leader's companion?"
"Watch your tongue. She is the Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit of our fortress."
Jeong Yeon-shin politely warned the old master, who was likely far older than himself. Since the man had already washed his hands of the outside world in a golden basin, there was no need to conform to the etiquette of the Jianghu.
"Ah." Lee Si-myeong chuckled softly. "It seems there is a misunderstanding. Do you perhaps believe that the Ghost-Howling Hegemon forced her hand upon the Ice-White Cheon So-so?"
"You are picking a trivial argument."
Jeong Yeon-shin's robes fluttered as he channeled the Law-Transcending Halo Qi from his heart.
"I say this because the truth is different," Lee Si-myeong added slowly. "How could anyone force a Black Rank expert whose mind is so upright and unyielding? One might subdue her with martial arts, but her heart cannot be coerced."
"Keep talking."
"Cheon So-so chose of her own free will to become the Ghost-Howling Hegemon's spouse. If you doubt it, you may see for yourself."
"……"
In an instant, the wind whipping around Jeong Yeon-shin died down.
A heavy silence descended.
The internal power he had raised to confront a rare powerhouse of the world was reined in within the blink of an eye.
A realm where internal qi was completely unified with the mind. The state of Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak, which had naturally approached him after shedding his mortal coil, had finally settled within Jeong Yeon-shin.
A mixture of interest and wariness flickered in Lee Si-myeong's eyes.
'He is not someone to be dealt with right now,' he thought.
Peng Yeo-ran's wedding was just around the corner. He could not allow a scuffle with a lone individual to cast an ill omen over such an auspicious day.
"Follow me."
Lee Si-myeong turned around in midair. Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been silently staring up at him, took a slow step forward.
He took in each of the Hidden-Realm Peng Clan's old masters who were rushing over and landing around the collapsed walls, drawn by the commotion.
The place was a pandemonium. There was not a single soul here who wasn't a highly skilled master.
*
"Do not even think of causing a scene. Even if you hold a Purple Rank within the Desolate Fortress, that will not work here. It would be best for you to stay quiet, have a peaceful conversation, and then leave. After the wedding, that is."
"You are talking nonsense."
"Our clan leader's ultimate technique is a form called the Dragon Appearance Roaring Heaven Cannon. It is a method designed specifically to kill the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect, and no one else. A human body cannot withstand it."
This was the conversation Jeong Yeon-shin had shared with Lee Si-myeong while being guided to the guest pavilion.
Peng Yeo-ran and Cheon So-so were not in the manor.
Even though he had fully unleashed his Halo Qi to sweep all the way underground, he couldn't sense the unique Ice Arts energy waves of the Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit. He had only detected the startled reactions of dozens of powerful old masters.
The warriors of the Hidden-Realm Peng Clan were, without exception, people of the past. They were said to avoid anything that might bring bad luck. Everyone, including the clan leader and the guests, strictly followed superstitions, the divinations of the Book of Changes, and feng shui.
The Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit, who could draw out mystical efficacy from the sapling of the World Tree. The Ghost-Howling Hegemon, who held a seat among the Twin Kings. Ice-White Cheon So-so possessed immense symbolic significance to all of them.
This was because whether they wanted to summon the flood dragon or escape outside the formation, all such great techniques could be accomplished through the sapling of the World Tree. At least, that was what the martial artists here believed.
It was only natural for the Hegemon to claim her.
The upcoming wedding was a ceremony to declare to the entire world that Cheon So-so was subordinate to Peng Yeo-ran. It was to make it widely known.
To make it known to the various Ironfolk villages and rogue martial artists who still couldn't hide their resentment; to the other of the Twin Kings who monopolized the lakeside where the flood dragon was said to have bathed; to the Dark Lord of the Kunlun Sect, Perfected Emptiness; and to the Ghost Lord of the Beggar Sect, Man Hu-gae.
The Ice-White and the Ghost-Howling Hegemon had secluded themselves in some unknown location. There was no telling whether they were together or apart. They wouldn't show themselves in the manor until the wedding, and were scheduled to arrive at the designated venue for the grand ceremony on the day itself.
Ever since learning all of this, Jeong Yeon-shin had shut himself inside the guest pavilion and hadn't stepped out.
Although the old masters loitered around his room after learning that the gatekeepers had been defeated by the newly arrived guest, the Wind Lord Lee Si-myeong called them away to prevent them from rashly approaching.
Five days passed in this manner.
The vast manor of the Hidden-Realm Peng Clan regained its festive atmosphere.
The aroma of roasting meat and the scent of alcohol wafted in all directions, and clouds carrying faint moonlight drifted slowly beneath the dark sky.
It was the eve of the wedding.
Elderly masters and some Brightfolk warriors sat in the manor's courtyard or banquet hall, exchanging drinks or playing Go. Since many of them didn't bother to conceal their energy, formless waves of internal power—thicker than the smell of alcohol—enveloped the entire area.
It was as if an invisible fog had thickly settled over the ground.
"Tomorrow is the day."
"Our clan leader is truly an eccentric person. Insisting on holding a wedding after all."
"We aren't in the outside Jianghu anyway. What does it matter what she does?"
"Will those people just sit still? There might not even be any point in choosing an auspicious day."
"The Dark Lord is detached from all worldly affairs, so he won't come."
"The King of Divine Wisdom and the Ghost Lord are the problems."
"Don't we just need to hold out until the clan leader lifts the Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit's veil? No matter how powerful they are, surely we can manage that much..."
"I'm also curious about the newly arrived guest. Isn't the Wind Lord being overly confident?"
"The aftermath of his strike was indeed extraordinary. It might be better to take his head even now."
"You speak the truth. Did you say the Golden Wing Sect has arrived?"
It was then.
Rustle.
In a corner of the courtyard where the banquet was taking place.
A figure wrapped entirely in an exceptionally splendid white cloak stepped onto the grounds. The person wore a silver mask that came down just to the tip of their sharp nose.
"Hmm? Who are you..."
The focus of the old master who met the eyes of the silver-masked stranger grew hazy. It happened incredibly quietly, without any noticeable presence.
The stranger's lips parted beneath the silver mask.
"I am looking for a young guest."
A whisper like a command drifted out. The lips curved into a crooked arc. Exuding an extraordinarily noble aura, there was a hint of a smirk, as if mocking the old master.
The bearded old man's face brightened, like a man who had just beheld the most beautiful being in the world. As if possessed, the old man slowly pointed his finger in one direction.
The gaze of the Young Sect Leader of the Ming Cult followed the fingertip and stopped at an outbuilding where the lantern light was extinguished. It appeared to be a room where the occupant was asleep.
"Over there?"
"Yes."
The Young Sect Leader's lips curled up slightly. She hadn't expected him to be asleep.
It was then.
Huuuum—
Suddenly, all voices fell silent.
The gazes of dozens of old masters—who hadn't reacted to the Young Sect Leader's presence due to the efficacy of her stealth sorcery—turned in unison.
A room without a single speck of light.
Suddenly, a figure sitting cross-legged was cast against the paper window. A faint, whitish glow flickered, taking the shape of a human.
It looked as though he had draped the moonlight over himself like a robe. That was the only way to describe it.
Whoosh!
The human-shaped moonlight cast upon the paper window grew intense. Soon after, the lights of the lanterns hanging throughout the banquet grounds began to be pushed back in the opposite direction.