Chapter 381: The World (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 381: The World (5)
Rain fell in a fine, steady drizzle.
It began just after a thunderous roar had echoed from Unhoe Peak, where the leaders of the Great Sects and the Commander of the Demonlight Wing were gathered.
Ssssshh—
Two men wearing wide-brimmed straw hats hid in the thickets. Lush green leaves grew thick above them, and before them lay a clear view of the village at the foot of the mountain.
Even as rainwater pooled on their brims and dripped down, they remained perfectly still, their vision seemingly unobstructed. Behind them loomed the endlessly soaring Unhoe Peak.
"All hell has broken loose," a middle-aged man with a sword at his waist spoke. "The situation is a mess, both up on the peak and down below."
His dry voice was instantly swallowed by the rain. It was the perfect cover to whisper secrets without wasting internal energy on telepathic communication.
"I wanted to check the top of the peak first, though," the young man beside him said with a grin.
The small brush and book he held remained dry despite the downpour, as they were Dharma treasures imbued with a faint trace of spirituality.
"Isn't the true nature of the new Commander of the Demonlight Wing the talk of the Censorate? No, of anyone well-versed in state affairs? Rumor has it the Assistant Military Commander recognized his razor-sharp character and quickly fell in line. On the other hand, some call him a butcher who treats even a Branch Head like a dog or a pig..."
"He is from the bloodline of the former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. Surely, that makes him a gentleman."
"Well... regardless, I never expected to be writing a report on a Desolate Fortress Black Rank out here. My fingers are itching to write about someone of such high status... If nothing goes wrong on Unhoe Peak, he'll be coming down soon, right?" the youth asked, spinning the brush between his fingers.
The middle-aged man, who had been responding impassively, shook his head. "Do not forget how Eunuch Myeong-yeo fell from grace. Hasty judgments are forbidden."
"Well... I have no intention of letting personal bias slip into my report. This is the grandson of the Hegemon Hero we're talking about, so I must watch my step."
"Reporting what you see is the duty of the Censorate. If you wish to survive long in the imperial court, report only the facts and speak only the truth. Even being able to do that is a privilege we enjoy... The Commander of the Demonlight Wing is a prime candidate for promotion to the Desolate Fortress's Purple Rank. His appointment itself is a matter of national importance. If you get tangled up in this, it won't matter how prestigious your family is. You could be dragged to the execution ground without mercy."
"Oh, come now. Would they really take my head? Even that eunuch, Myeong-yeo, was only demoted to a labor camp overseer..."
"You are far too naive. The cases are entirely different."
"Pardon?"
"A Purple Rank is not a single person. They are a weapon of mass destruction recognized by the entire nation... one who possesses near-absolute power. Not only the Desolate Fortress's main fortress, but also the Censorate, the Eastern Depot, the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the Five Military Commissions, and even the Provincial Governors voice their opinions on a Purple Rank's appointment. In an affair of that magnitude, would the life of a mere Censorate Record Keeper matter? Especially when no one knows when that Hegemon Hero might suddenly descend upon us."
"Ah..."
The Censorate: the central investigative body of the imperial court.
At this moment, the conversation between the Censor and the Record Keeper remained unheard. They had not hidden their presence with the pouring rain alone. The Censor was channeling his internal energy into a rolled-up scroll—a Censorate Dharma treasure with the power of concealment. It ensured that only those who had trained their senses to the absolute limit and deliberately searched the area could barely detect their presence.
The Record Keeper sighed. "Now that I think about it, this was a poisoned chalice. I shouldn't have taken this job just to cure my boredom... But then again, we couldn't just ignore a Black Rank in such close proximity..."
"Keep your eyes forward. Observing their movements in detail is also our duty," the Censor said coldly, staring at the path winding between the village and Unhoe Peak. "The County Magistrate here is doing absolutely nothing. This is a serious dereliction of duty."
Rustle, rustle—
The stealthy rustling characteristic of lightness skills echoed through the woods—the sound of small, overlapping footsteps, again and again.
It was a massive crowd.
Martial artists of all descriptions were moving along the long mountain path. At a glance, there had to be hundreds of them. Their gruff, echoing voices were devoid of any etiquette or decorum.
"The Wind Blade Sect brought their entire roster."
"Isn't that fellow the Iron Heart Slicing Blade? I heard he learned a thing or two in Lingering Spirit. I wonder how strong he's gotten..."
"I heard high-ranking officials came to watch, too. Best not to touch their escorts. It'll only cause headaches."
"We can just rob the merchants instead."
"Wait, isn't that a Desolate Fortress Sword? He must have killed a White-Ranked Warrior to get it. Where on earth did he...?"
"Watch your mouth! My sword guard is different! Let's move quietly!"
They clamored amongst themselves. From those rattling chains attached to broadswords, to a solitary swordsman exuding a lonely aura, to dozens of martial artists whose footwork was so perfectly synchronized they clearly belonged to the same sect. A truly bizarre assortment of characters paraded before the Censorate duo's eyes.
The Golden Wing Sect, the Tenth Sect, and the Pure Demon Alliance. On top of that were the sects that followed these three, along with other martial artists of the Heterodox Sects. Rumor had it that even those from the Jianghu who had bowed their heads to Lingering Spirit and the Hegemon Sword Sect had entered Sichuan.
The Record Keeper lowered his head slightly, his expression one of disgust. "Heterodox sects, those walking the line between orthodox and unorthodox, rogue wanderers... Not only the subordinates of the Thirteen Heavens, but even those looking to snatch up crumbs have gathered. It is truly a chaotic era."
"They intend to wipe out the orthodox factions gathered on Unhoe Peak one by one the moment they descend. It is a Net of Heaven and Earth. Since three factions of the Thirteen Heavens have taken the lead themselves, they must view not only the Commander of the Demonlight Wing but also the sect leaders of Qingcheng and Emei as massive prey."
"Indeed. With numbers like that, even a high monk of Shaolin who has mastered the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic would be swept away. At the very least, it would take a dozen squads of the Embroidered Uniform Guard or the Imperial Army to..."
"What good is the Imperial Army when we can barely handle the Northern Demonfolk? The garrisoned troops in each province can only do so much to maintain public order," the Censor said, glaring at the tail end of the procession. "We can only hope the County Magistrate here sent word to the Desolate Fortress in time. No matter how mysterious the movements of these Jianghu people are, on a scale like this, there should have been enough time to notice something."
"How many officials haven't accepted gold from those Lingering Spirit bastards? When they ask you to simply turn a blind eye to Jianghu affairs with a blade practically at your throat, very few would refuse."
"..."
"And with a force of that size... wouldn't it be difficult for even two or three members of the 17th Unit of the Divine Sword Corps to do anything? It would be a miracle if they weren't wiped out instead," the Record Keeper said.
The Censor could not answer immediately. The more consecutive years of famine, the more corrupt officials there were. Such was the way of the world. The same went for the Jianghu. Only when the world was prosperous could the orthodox factions flourish. The chivalry of bestowing food upon starving commoners paled in comparison to the well-funded blades of the Heterodox Sects. That was why martial lineages that had once refused to draw a clear line between orthodox and unorthodox had begun bowing their heads to the Thirteen Heavens in droves.
"...By the time they return, my internal energy will be completely depleted. We must find a place to hide," the Censor said. A Desolate Fortress warrior with excellent supplies, or an official possessing a rare Dharma treasure—either would be a target for plunder. These people did not fear retribution. It was an era where silencing witnesses through murder had become commonplace.
"The open fields seem more dangerous. Let's stop by that village and rent a house. A pouch of salt should easily buy us ten days of lodging," the Record Keeper suggested.
The Censor sighed. "And what if those heterodox bastards decide to raid the place?"
"They are here to deal with the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and the Nine Sects. The houses aren't going anywhere, so they have no reason to waste their strength beforehand. Any useless trash who can't even figure that much out, we can handle ourselves."
"True enough."
Just as the two were about to move, a faint shout echoed from far behind. A wave of energy, as powerful as the entire heterodox crowd that had just passed, could be felt. The Censor and the Record Keeper froze in their tracks.
"Lord! Pull yourself together!"
"Bong-gong's words are strange. It almost sounds as if our Lord, the Emperor of All Weapons, is afraid of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. It was just a single defeat; he can simply redeem himself next time..."
"To awaken him from our sect's Turtle Breathing Technique, this is what must be done! The blood and qi must rise to the Baihui Point! I only left for a moment to command the subordinates, and what on earth is this disaster?! General! General!"
Hearing those words, a shiver ran down the Record Keeper's spine.
The Turtle Breathing Technique. A martial art that slowed one's breathing and heart rate, even concealing one's true qi. It was not originally an assassin's technique but one born from wars between nations. It was a survival method for defeated generals. By using corpses as a blanket and executing the Turtle Breathing Technique, one could perfectly play dead.
The Lord of the Tenth Sect, the Emperor of All Weapons, had been defeated by the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
And he had survived by playing dead.
"Lord! You can rest easy now! The ones here are the martial artists of our own sect, not that terrifying Commander of the Demonlight Wing! You are no coward, Lord! It is not the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's Infinite Flower of Time Hand—which you dread to see even in your dreams—but the warm hand of this Bong-gong that is here!"
"Gasp... cough!"
Soon, the sound of a choked breath breaking free echoed. Violent gasps and exhalations reached the ears of the Censorate duo with perfect clarity.
It was obvious whose breath it was.
"The Lord of the Tenth Sect...!"
Such was the vitality of a Lord of the Thirteen Heavens. Their innate destiny, as well as their Innate Qi, was on an entirely different level. As a pinnacle master of the Heterodox Sects who had survived countless battlefields, he was bound to have mastered the art of staying alive.
The Record Keeper whipped his head toward the Censor. "Isn't this a major crisis?! If the Lord of the Tenth Sect, who fled from Unhoe Peak, takes command of the heterodox crowd that just passed...!"
"It is indeed a crisis," the Censor replied curtly. Before the Record Keeper knew it, the Censor was staring blankly past him.
"Did you hear me properly? I mean..."
"The world has gathered. The pillars that supported the order of this nation."
"What?"
"The Eastern Depot said that the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps had finally committed treason..."
Rumble—!
A sudden gust of wind blew. In that instant, the Record Keeper felt a strangely heavy pressure descend from the distant sky, brushing past his head. It was as if dozens of massive typhoons were rushing in all at once.
The Record Keeper was born into a particularly prestigious family with a long history in Beijing. He had trained in the Censorate's secret eye technique since childhood.
When he raised his head, he saw several pitch-black comet tails. They were incredibly far away—figures leaping across mountain ranges, using the clouds as stepping stones like the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Though they were so distant they appeared minuscule, they seemed poised to arrive in no time.
"It's dangerous," the Censor muttered.
"Pardon?"
"That peak must not become a Jianghu battlefield. Whether it is the Commander of the Demonlight Wing or the sect leaders of the Nine Sects, someone must come down. Otherwise, the commoners who climbed Mount Mi will be swept up in it," the Censor continued slowly, speaking as if to himself. "But who would throw themselves alone into a Net of Heaven and Earth that boasts three peerless masters?"
It was then.
Right in the middle of the village they had been watching.
Flash! Claaang—!
Two figures suddenly warped into existence in the center of an empty lot. In an instant, hundreds of streaks of light flickered between them. The power in each streak was so immense that even the aftershocks, which should have dissipated, instead compressed into gale-force winds that slammed into the opponent, shaking the earth with heavy thuds.
In the dead-silent village, a young child who had snuck out stopped swinging on a swing set and gaped in awe. A young man dressed as a Taoist priest with long ears stood with his back to the child, gritting his teeth.
Perfected Cheongsu, the Twin-Wall Sword Lord. He was the sect leader of the Qingcheng Sect. While pursuing the Pure Demon Alliance Leader, he had detected the approach of the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect. It was a residential area. He had no choice but to descend.
"Lord of the Golden Wing Sect! Let us take this elsewhere!"
The short woman tilted her head slightly, as if asking why she should bother.
"Move. There is a Dharma treasure buried behind you."
A clear, melodious voice flowed from her lips. Her words treated the new sect leader of the Qingcheng Sect like a mere greenhorn.
Ssssshh—
Her black hair, which fell just long enough to cover the back of her neck, swayed slowly even amidst Perfected Cheongsu's storm of sword strikes. The jade gourd bottle she held in one hand emitted a sweet aroma of alcohol as it met the wind of his sword.
Only her blurred right hand moved. Her slender shoulders swayed leisurely, as if keeping time to a silent melody—a movement that exuded transcendence. The difference in their skill was clear.
Perfected Cheongsu, who was also protecting the child behind him, quickly showed signs of faltering. The blue and red trajectories of his sword strikes fluctuated violently before shattering in all directions with a resonant clatter.
Whoosh—!
Just as Perfected Cheongsu stumbled back, coughing up blood, the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect was about to strike the crown of his head with the edge of her hand. But she suddenly tilted her waist to the side, looking like a village girl peering past an adult's hip to get a better look at something curious.
Her lips parted slightly. "Hello."
"..."
"You were on the peak. I was on my way up."
The Lord of the Golden Wing Sect slowly lowered her arm. Her long, orange sleeves brushed softly against the ground.
Step.
An incomparably handsome young man was walking forward, holding a divine sword that shimmered like sunlight. His pitch-black robes silently brushed past the swing Perfected Cheongsu had been protecting, and with him as the epicenter, the very atmosphere began to warp. The space distorted like a tangled mess of hemp, a phenomenon clearly visible to the naked eye.
"Uh...?"
The child, who had fallen behind the swing, floated up gently and drifted backward, carried by a firm, gentle breeze emanating from the young man's body. The few remaining villagers, most of whom had already fled, gasped in terror, scooped up the child, and began to run.
Swish—
Jeong Yeon-shin gave his Divine Sword: Lingering Thunder a long, deliberate flick.
"I enjoyed the duel. What's next? A three-win streak?" the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect asked, her face expressionless. Her tone was peculiar, as if she were playing some sort of game. Perhaps she had been just like this when offering sacrifices through the Flood Dragon's formation.
"Execution," Jeong Yeon-shin said quietly.