Chapter 36: The Desolate Ma Clan (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 36: The Desolate Ma Clan (2)
The moment he saw Jeong Yeon-shin, the expression of the Desolate Ma Clan's successor shifted, revealing a complex mix of emotions.
Anger and shame were there, but it wasn't just that. His words as he approached made that clear.
"Will you cross swords with me?"
"Your name?"
"...I am Ma Se-in. We didn't even exchange names back then."
"It seems you've had a change of heart."
Jeong Yeon-shin quietly observed his maternal grandfather's adopted grandson.
He had heard that Ma Se-in was currently at the Martial Transcendence Arena, defeating one White-Ranked warrior after another.
Though he had every reason to be triumphant, his face was haggard. Yet, he hadn't lost his sense of courtesy.
Perhaps this capacity for self-reflection is the true strength of a prestigious clan.
It was impossible to know what had gone through Ma Se-in's mind after witnessing Jeong Yeon-shin's skill firsthand.
Ma Se-in clasped his hands in a martial salute.
"I learned a lesson from you that day. I gained a great deal. Please, give me another chance."
"I don't know."
Jeong Yeon-shin, returning the salute, sank into thought.
He had to succeed in his next mission. It was the only way to obtain the Blue Rank martial uniform immediately without wasting any more time.
Whether the young man before him could offer another spark of inspiration was a secondary concern.
I can't flesh out the framework of the Radiant Brilliance Sword Style with mediocre inspiration.
This was different from when he’d created the Infinite Flower of Time Fist. The Radiant Brilliance Sword Style was a technique inspired by the sword path of the Sword Sect, a supreme master from a past generation.
The Desolate Fortress had a martial arts library accessible to its warriors.
Naturally, Jeong Yeon-shin had visited it. He wasn't relying solely on the martial arts he had created himself.
He had fused the martial principles of the Desolate Fortress into every combat move, supplementing the arts he had created. He had deconstructed the logic and principles of countless martial arts, laying the foundation to create something entirely new.
The movements of the Brightfolk, inspired by Cheong-myeong, were also beginning to take the shape of an unparalleled movement technique.
However, techniques that fit his body as perfectly as the Radiant Brilliance Sword Style, the Radiant Wing Step, and the Infinite Flower of Time Fist couldn't be created on a whim.
It wasn't that the martial arts recorded in books were inherently dead or useless. It was simply that he lacked the inspiration to weave them into a system that would satisfy him.
He needed a flash of insight, a bolt of lightning to the mind. But such divine sparks didn't strike on command.
"It would at least broaden my horizons."
Ma Se-in's proposal for a duel wasn't a bad one.
The sword techniques of the Desolate Ma Clan were of a level rarely seen, even within the Desolate Fortress.
Just then, a light breeze stirred, and Jeong Yeon-shin felt the hem of his robe flutter.
"You're the newcomer, right? Why don't you trade blows with me instead?"
Cheong-myeong, who had approached without a sound, tapped Jeong Yeon-shin on the shoulder and looked at Ma Se-in.
The black eyepatch over his left eye gave him a classic, almost stylish air.
Ma Se-in's face brightened.
"The Blue-Eyed Demon Sword...!"
"Just a one-eyed demon now, though," Cheong-myeong chuckled playfully, turning his head to Jeong Yeon-shin.
"Mind if I take this one?"
"Do you come to the Martial Transcendence Arena often?"
"I have to, or I'll fall behind. This sect is packed with monstrous masters."
"Because of your eye?"
"Yeah. I need to slowly sharpen my other senses. A swordsman's field of vision has been cut in half, after all."
Cheong-myeong seemed quite cheerful as he spoke.
An outstanding White-Ranked warrior would make a good training partner. Jeong Yeon-shin nodded in agreement.
As he watched the two walk side-by-side toward a corner of the training ground, Do Yu-won, who was standing beside him, muttered.
"How strange. I guess the rumors are true. They say the Blue-Eyed Demon Sword treats people differently depending on their talent."
"Senior Cheong-myeong does...?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked, confused.
Do Yu-won nodded. "He's actually a cold-hearted man. You can tell just by looking at his records. They say he holds martial artists to a ruthless standard, judging both their talent and character without mercy—though he leaves commoners alone. He's known for openly showing his disdain, and more than a few hypocritical Orthodox warriors have lost their heads to his blade. That's why they call him the Demon Sword. His standards are incredibly harsh."
"I had no idea."
"That's probably because your talent is so outstanding. Most other Blue Ranks prefer to avoid him if they can, let alone the White Ranks. The successor of the Desolate Ma Clan has run into the wrong person."
Do Yu-won clicked his tongue.
He didn't treat Young Hero Heonwon poorly, either.
While he was pondering Do Yu-won's words, the match was decided.
Ma Se-in tried to exploit Cheong-myeong's left side—his blind spot—but the prowess of a Blue Rank was on an entirely different level.
Cheong-myeong had apparently reached a state where he could compensate for his lost vision with his sense of Qi.
Without even looking, Cheong-myeong thrust his left palm forward, striking Ma Se-in squarely in the solar plexus. It was an astonishing palm technique. Spitting a mouthful of blood, Ma Se-in collapsed.
It was then that something happened.
Had he realized something from that single strike?
Ma Se-in suddenly sat cross-legged, a smile forming on his lips. It was the unmistakable look of someone who had just gained enlightenment.
The moment he sat down, warriors in orange uniforms leaped from all directions to surround him. They appeared to be guards from the Desolate Ma Clan.
Stepping back slightly, Cheong-myeong returned with a chuckle. He glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin and said, "That fellow. He's not entirely without talent."
"So this is the Desolate Fortress. Everyone seems used to this."
"You make everyone else in the Demonlight Wing look dull, but there are plenty of warriors here who were once hailed as geniuses."
Perhaps finding it uncomfortable to face Cheong-myeong, Do Yu-won had stepped back at some point and now offered a slight bow.
Jeong Yeon-shin returned the bow, feeling the true power of the Desolate Fortress once again.
Cheong-myeong, despite losing an eye, had not suffered a significant drop in martial power. And Ma Se-in, who had seemed like nothing more than an arrogant young noble, had transformed in an instant.
As his character grew humbler, enlightenment came to him more easily.
It was incredibly impressive, almost hard to believe. He wondered if a person could really change so drastically.
This is no time to be picky about the quality of my inspiration.
Jeong Yeon-shin immediately stepped onto the training grounds of the Martial Transcendence Arena.
* * *
"The Lord of the Fortress wishes to celebrate your coming-of-age."
He had just returned to the Demonlight Wing's pavilion, draped in the colors of the sunset, when Ma Jin paid him a sudden visit. The words he spoke were unfamiliar.
"Are you saying the Desolate Fortress will host my coming-of-age ceremony?"
"Yes."
As Ma Jin nodded, Jeong Yeon-shin's brow furrowed.
So that's why the Chief Steward's Office was asking if I'd had my ceremony yet.
The coming-of-age ceremony was the first of the four great rites outlined in Zhu Xi's Family Rituals. For the scholars of the Great Ming Empire, the ceremony was held at the age of twenty. But the Martial World was different.
The more dangerous a region, the earlier the ceremony was held. The standard age varied wildly.
They said the Martial World was a mysterious place. The greater a sect's prestige, the more formidable its enemies. The logic was simple: in a world where one could die at any moment, it was best to leave one's mark as an adult as soon as possible.
But this was of no interest to Jeong Yeon-shin. For him, life itself was his footprint.
"When is the next mission?"
Ma Jin sighed.
"The Lord of the Fortress has arranged it. She has recognized your talent and potential."
"I wonder."
He couldn't fathom the Lord of the Desolate Fortress's thoughts at all.
Recognized his talent? If that were true, she could have simply plucked a fruit from the World Tree and given it to him.
The fact that she drew such a clear line between public and private matters left few other interpretations. Either she wanted Jeong Yeon-shin, who was pressed for time, to rise to the rank of Commander of the Divine Sword Corps on his own, or the Desolate Fortress already possessed so much power that they felt no desperation.
It was impossible to know for now.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn't want to lean on vain hopes. The Lord of the Desolate Fortress was an ancient, absolute being. Even when she showed goodwill, her boundaries were clear—as was obvious from how she treated Ma Yeon-jeok, a friend of several decades, with the coldness of a blade.
"I have no desire to do it. In two hours, I could comprehend dozens of variations in my sword techniques. Please decline on my behalf."
"She seems to know you better than I do. She told me to mention the reward. It is a liquor whose properties do not overlap with any spirit medicine in the world. It is called the Thunder Immortal Treasure Wine. A single cup of this restorative tonic is enough to grant a long life free of disease."
Even martial artists were not immune to illness. Severed pulses were proof of that. The medical arts of those known as Divine Doctors were active in many fields, healing more than just the internal and external wounds of battle.
A long life free of disease. Even if he didn't get his hopes up, these were not words Jeong Yeon-shin could simply ignore.
"I'll do it."
His attitude shifted instantly.
"...Only one among those undergoing the ceremony together may drink it. The coming-of-age ceremony of the Desolate Fortress is a place to elevate oneself through martial arts. Usually, children who failed to become White Ranks compete, but this time is different. I hear a couple of White-Ranked youths from prestigious clans will participate, conscious of you. They'll be two or three years older than you."
"That won't be a problem."
He paid no heed to Ma Jin's bewildered expression. Who knew? Perhaps it might even slow the opening of his Baihui Point, if only by a little.
* * *
"The Lord of the Fortress is interfering."
In the vast and luxurious banquet hall, seats were lined up on either side. Ma Yeon-jeok, sitting at the very edge of the upper section, muttered this to himself.
His splendid purple robe completely draped over the armrests. Below him, Ma Jin's scarred face contorted.
"Did you intend to host it at the main house?"
"He is not a talent whose worth should be measured by mere propriety," Ma Yeon-jeok replied nonchalantly.
Meanwhile, the boys and young men were following a procedure vastly different from the coming-of-age ceremonies of scholars. Even if there were complex rituals like divination, hair-binding, and capping, the actual substance was different. Perhaps due to the characteristic free-spiritedness of martial artists, the atmosphere was far from solemn.
Their attire was simply the martial uniforms of the Desolate Fortress. Among them, Jeong Yeon-shin, wearing a white robe under his blue one, stood out prominently.
At the end of the long procedure, they ascended the platform one by one.
The Lord of the Desolate Fortress, dressed in green light armor, personally placed the caps on their heads.
Among the twenty-five participants, only three were White-Ranked warriors. Most had grown up in the Desolate Fortress. The cases of Jeong Yeon-shin and Ma Se-in, who had entered through the Entrance Exam, were unusual.
"Congratulations."
The Lord of the Desolate Fortress parted her red lips. After gently stroking Jeong Yeon-shin's hat, the corners of her mouth curved up smoothly.
"Flash Art shall not take a courtesy name."
At her clear, resonant voice, the onlookers nodded in agreement. It meant he would not be given a new name to use as an adult. Some martial artists who quickly earned a moniker used that title as their courtesy name.
For Jeong Yeon-shin, "Flash Art" was exactly that. It had become the name he would carry for the rest of his life.
As the ceremony drew to a close, people began to chatter lightly. Quite a few had come simply to stave off boredom.
"Now for the finale."
"The finishing touch remains."
"I wonder who will drink it this year."
"In terms of achievements alone, almost no White Rank can match Flash Art. Hasn't he been running without rest? I heard even the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, has only just completed a single mission."
"Even so, the foundation of the great martial clans is immense. The talent of the successors of the Desolate Ma Clan and the Shin Clan will surely exceed all imagination."
They seemed to grow slightly excited. Jeong Yeon-shin returned to his spot and stared at the platform.
Before he knew it, the Lord of the Desolate Fortress was tilting a jade bottle into a white cup.
The Thunder Immortal Treasure Wine.
A spark of life returned to his eyes.
Even when his gaze met the deep green eyes of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress, his spirit did not falter. Smiling faintly, she spoke.
"This is a congratulatory drink for you all. I shall bestow it upon whoever claims it first."
The hem of the Lord of the Fortress's robe began to flutter, creating the illusion of green waves rippling from her body.
"Take it, if you have the skill."
Whoosh—!
A tremendous pressure swept over them. It felt as if they were being dragged into a deep, bottomless abyss, making one dread taking even a single step. A hollow laugh threatened to escape him.
And yet, the Lord of the Desolate Fortress hadn't even unleashed a tenth of her true power.
Surely it wasn't this intense last year?
Those who had not yet become official warriors of the Desolate Fortress were pushed back, collapsing to the ground. He noted with interest how she managed it without causing them any internal injuries. The seated guests seemed entirely unaffected.
It was a control of internal energy that had reached the realm of the divine.
"Ugh!"
Someone groaned.
The only ones holding their ground at that moment were Jeong Yeon-shin, Ma Se-in, and a young noble said to be a descendant of the Shin Clan.
Yet, only one person lifted his foot to move.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt the mystical wind emanating from the Lord of the Fortress's entire body. The streams of pressure sweeping over him caused a new bolt of lightning to sprout in his mind.
As if his soul were being sucked into her eyes, the mnemonics to break down the barrier of Qi naturally flowed through his mind.
This was communion. A sky-blue light flashed across Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes.
His first step was not the Radiant Wing Step. He had merely stepped forward, adapting to the energy as much as possible. The purpose was different; the Radiant Wing First Step was a stride to create a combat interval.
Now, the second step manifested.
Step.
A wave of Qi rippled outward from his planted foot. The colorless waves spread in all directions, gently pushing back the green wind of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress.
The Radiant Wing Second Step. It was a stride that pierced through pressure.
His cap was blown away, and his long hair cascaded down. Before anyone knew it, not a single soul in the hall spoke.
With his black hair fluttering, he finally ascended the platform.
"You may savor it."
The Lord of the Desolate Fortress, her lips curling up slightly, stepped down from her seat. It was then.
"The sole supreme one! Every man in the Martial World dreams of being like you!" Ma Se-in, who was kneeling on one knee with a trickle of blood at his lips, shouted. The rims of his eyes were bloodshot.
It was unclear whether it was because he had overexerted himself to withstand the pressure, or because some deep emotion had welled up inside him. Perhaps because he had only ever walked a path of success, he did not seem to be in his right mind.
"But the Martial World is not as you think! Why do you think people build sects, establish clans, and form alliances?"
"..."
"I have decided to uphold my grandfather's wishes. Aim for the position of the Ma Family Head. If you have the main family backing you, your standing will change once again."
"What are you talking about?"
Jeong Yeon-shin was dumbfounded. This was a public venue. Even if his words were correct, they should have been withheld in a place like this. Moreover, it involved family matters. He thought Ma Se-in was terribly lacking in judgment, but Ma Yeon-jeok did not stop his adopted grandson.
He merely stared at Jeong Yeon-shin's mouth.
Ma Se-in continued. "Set a date and compete with me. Defeat me fairly with the position of the future Head of the Desolate Ma Clan on the line. You can become the successor. It is a position that far surpasses the Thunder Immortal Treasure Wine. Take my place. A mere individual who consumed a spirit medicine? A position where one can command a hundred swords is worth more than any medicine."
He seemed to have grown emotional from yet another defeat. It was hard to fathom.
Were Ma Se-in's words his own, or had Ma Yeon-jeok coerced him?
Jeong Yeon-shin thought it might be both.
"...Grandfather wishes to change the successor to you. Do not refuse. I know you look down on this. But there is no reason to. The position of a group's leader, the master of a martial clan, takes precedence over anything else. That is how human affairs work, and it is also the logic of the Martial World."
Ma Se-in concluded, letting out a long breath.
Jeong Yeon-shin looked at his relative as if he were a madman.
To say such things here? Did he think it would be hard to refuse if he was offered this in front of onlookers who knew nothing of the circumstances?
Whosever idea it was, they seemed to know no shame.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not nod. Because what he pursued was different.
Perhaps I would have done so long ago, if the prestige of a single family could have secured me the fruit of the World Tree.
The problem was that it couldn't. Furthermore, bound to a family, his inspiration could not roam free.
Jeong Yeon-shin knew himself intuitively.
The Lord of the Desolate Fortress was keeping silent about his lifespan, even to Ma Yeon-jeok.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not want to beg for his life from others without paying a price. Nor did he think it would be of much help.
He spoke quietly.
"You spoke of the logic of the Martial World. I, too, have experienced it well enough to know. Let me tell you."
Jeong Yeon-shin stood tall and straight, alone on the platform. Draped in his blue robe, the boy looking down at the liquor cut an incredibly striking figure. He exuded the aura of a swordsman standing alone, having pierced through the harsh storms of the world.
He slowly reached out.
"This."
He lifted the cup, clasped between his fingers. It was a cup he had won with his own two hands.
"Is the Martial World."
He brought the cup to his lips. In the dead silence of the hall, his words echoed with absolute clarity.
The profound silence stretched across the vast hall, heavy, absolute, and suffocating. It was as if the very air had frozen in place, bound by the sheer gravity of the moment and the undeniable presence of the young swordsman standing alone on the platform. Every eye in the room was fixed upon him, captivated by the striking figure draped in blue. In that breathless quiet, not a single soul dared to speak, move, or even draw a heavy breath. The tension was a palpable weight, pressing down on the shoulders of every gathered martial artist, forcing them into the role of mute spectators to a scene that felt larger than life.
Then, he drank.
As he tilted the small, hard-won cup, the Thunder Immortal Treasure Wine flowed past his lips. The legendary liquor, carrying the faint, crackling essence of a heavenly storm and the rich, intoxicating aroma of aged spiritual herbs, cascaded down his throat. In the deathly stillness of the grand room, completely devoid of the usual clamor, gossip, and boasting of the Martial World, the simple, ordinary sound of his swallowing was magnified to an unimaginable degree.
Gulp.
It was a quiet, unassuming sound, yet it echoed like a distant thunderclap through the silent expanse of the hall. The rhythmic slide of the potent wine down his throat became the only noise in the entire world. It was a stark, visceral testament to the unyielding reality of the Martial World he had just proclaimed—a world where strength, resolve, and the solitary path of the sword reigned supreme over all else.
Gulp.
The sound reverberated against the high ceilings and the sturdy wooden pillars, cutting through the heavy atmosphere with razor-sharp clarity. With every drop of the Thunder Immortal Treasure Wine that disappeared down his throat, the profound stillness of the audience deepened. The quiet, rhythmic echo of his drinking seemed to synchronize with the beating hearts of those watching, etching the image of the solitary, blue-robed boy into the deepest recesses of their minds. He was no longer just a youth standing on a wooden platform; he was the very embodiment of the harsh, unforgiving, yet breathtakingly beautiful martial path.
The wine continued to flow, its fiery liquid trail a stark contrast to the cold, quiet awe that gripped the hall. In that suspended moment in time, there were no clashing blades, no roaring battle cries, and no bitter, blood-soaked feuds. There was only the boy, the cup he had rightfully claimed with his own two hands, and the echoing, rhythmic sound of the Thunder Immortal Treasure Wine sliding down his throat, filling the vast silence with the undeniable, absolute truth of his existence.