Chapter 392: Carpet
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 392: Carpet
The Dark Night Hall.
It was a great sect, a rarity under the heavens.
Formed by a gathering of those who had faded from the noble clans, they vied for the title of the absolute best under heaven in the art of secrecy.
It was said that their secret archery, born of their divine ultimate techniques, was more lethal than any assassin's strike.
In truth, they sustained themselves through the trade of slaughter. They were a sect masterfully adept at killing in exchange for the coin of the wealthy.
Naturally, they had many enemies. Yet, they hid their sect using the secret arts of the Brightfolk—a people uniquely skilled in concealment—so thoroughly that they had never once revealed their headquarters throughout their long history.
It was said that not even the Hao Sect or the Beggar Sect knew its location.
This turned its very whereabouts into a legend within the Jianghu, surrounded by countless stories born of awe and fear.
Some said they periodically traveled south from beneath the North Sea Ice Palace; others claimed they must be burrowed deep within the stump of the World Tree in Beijing...
"The Dark Night Hall is in our city?"
"No way."
"Who on earth are they...? Instead of standing around here, shouldn't we be running for our lives?"
The commoners whispered among themselves, stealthily hiding behind walls and windows.
Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his eyebrows slightly.
As he continuously channeled the Law-Transcending Halo Qi rising from his heart into his blade, the surrounding air began to ripple gently.
The vibration of internal energy emanating from the steel produced a low, humming resonance. The Sword Song. It was an ultimate technique he had created, inspired by the Imperial Grandson of this nation.
He did not unleash it immediately.
This was the great city of Guizhou. Even here on the outskirts, beyond the city walls, commoners were everywhere.
Though a desolate field stretched out before him, he could not simply cast the Sword Song with a cluster of civilian houses right at his back. He needed time to attune his True Qi.
'Only toward the front... This will take a bit of time.'
Directing the orientation of a wide-area ultimate technique was no easy task. A stance, by definition, meant matching the flow of True Qi to a predetermined form.
The Sword Song possessed the subtle truths of sound arts; fundamentally, its form did not distinguish between ally and foe. Attempting to direct the sound art after the fact was no different from rewriting the Sword Song from its very mnemonic.
'Hold your breath,' Jeong Yeon-shin muttered inwardly to his sword.
It was vastly different from the past, when merely casting the technique would place a severe burden on his Baihui Point.
Since Marrow Cleansing and Bone Rebirth, along with the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak, had elevated him to the peerless realm, he had absorbed the lifetimes of world-shaking absolute masters into his very being.
Martial arts lay entirely within his grasp.
Kiiiiing—!
At this moment, the flow of True Qi rippling along the blade came under his absolute control.
Every single vibration arising from that movement flowed out strictly in accordance with Jeong Yeon-shin's intent, like the gentle, rising and falling resonance of a bamboo flute.
Shin Hwang, Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit, observed Jeong Yeon-shin from nearby.
"He has completely locked the energy waves within the blade."
An indescribable emotion flickered in his eyes as he stood with his arms crossed. He had seen through the technique, realizing that the direction of the internal power waves was converging into a single point, seamlessly incorporating a new variation.
He had witnessed Jeong Yeon-shin's Sword Song during the mission to annihilate the Hwangbo Clan. It was the moment when the Flash Art, who had dared to request a solo mission despite having just reached the Blue Rank, fully displayed his capabilities.
'It is definitely different.'
The difference was akin to roughly patched mud versus smooth porcelain—at least when it came to the mastery of internal energy control.
This future Purple Rank was second to none in single-strike explosive martial arts and the guidance of True Qi. If the surrounding Black Ranks assisted him in directing the flow, they would witness a truly monstrous sight.
"How elegant."
"Well, with a face like his, he'd look poetic even if he were just blowing on a blade of grass..."
The speakers were Cheon So-so, Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit, and Wiji Geuk, Commander of the Dragon-Treading Unit. They were quietly stepping back along with their fellow Unit Commanders.
Ak Su-rim, who had been beaming with a pleased expression beside them, was grabbed by the scruff of her neck by Bukgung-a and dragged backward.
The senior Black Ranks merely watched. They maintained an attitude of unconcern, regardless of what their junior of the same rank was about to unleash.
They simply observed Jeong Yeon-shin's every move with keen interest—some openly, others covertly pretending not to.
It was then that a middle-aged man stepped forward from among the onlookers.
"Do not create unnecessary tension. You outsiders are drawing far too much attention. The harvest is already poor and the atmosphere is grim enough as it is. Why must you draw your swords here and act like some acrobat troupe?"
His tone was lecturing, his voice deep and dignified.
He wore a luxurious orange robe over a body that looked as if it had been lightly dusted with ash.
A jade-ornamented scabbard was tied to his waist, proving at a glance that his status was far from ordinary.
"The Clear-Judgment Sword! I heard he went on a trading trip all the way to Guangxi... and he has indeed returned safely. He truly lives up to his reputation."
"I wonder how much profit he made..."
"Thieves will be running rampant again in the dead of night, searching for the Clear-Judgment Sword's heavily hidden storehouses."
Many among the city's residents recognized him. Some onlookers let out low exclamations of admiration.
Figures with the character 'Pan' (Judgment) in their titles were usually busybodies, yet widely respected. They were individuals who had established a name for themselves.
The Clear-Judgment Sword squared his shoulders, letting out a cough that feigned humility.
"The Dark Night Hall is secretly active in our city? I do not know which Black Way gang you hail from, but if you intend to use the Thirteen Heavens as an excuse to settle here and drain the lifeblood of the commoners, you have sorely miscalculated."
A fairly deep internal energy amplified his voice, strong enough to swallow even the humming sound emanating from Jeong Yeon-shin's sword.
"Even if you truly possess Desolate Fortress Tokens that allow you to inspect any place under heaven, it is still a problem. The whole world knows that the Desolate Fortress has abandoned the commoners. Are you not simply stirring up a peaceful city and trying to turn the neighborhood upside down for no reason? And to speak of none other than the terrifying Dark Night Hall! Just how massive a disturbance are you planning to cause?!"
Voices of agreement echoed from the crowd.
The Clear-Judgment Sword felt a renewed sense of gratitude toward the Lingering Spirit.
The Black Ranks of the Desolate Fortress were elusive figures. Few commoners would immediately realize that a Unit Commander had completely separated from the Divine Sword Corps' martial units.
The influence of the Thirteen Heavens' Lingering Spirit was immense, and they had secretly spread their words far and wide.
If a group with the character 'Hwang' engraved on their shoulders passes by, look for a warrior in black robes. The Desolate Fortress has abandoned the people's livelihood for their own private reasons.
Rumors breeding distrust were slowly filling the vast world.
It was a year of famine.
With the people resenting even the heavens, there was no reason for them to look kindly upon those who deserved their hatred.
Even if a pretext had been provided, the resentment was only natural. It could be called the backlash of the Unit Commanders' gathering.
"This is a land barely enduring a famine. Yet, you outsiders suddenly arrive to draw your swords and perform bizarre tricks? The Guizhou Jianghu, the commoners, the government, and I, the Clear-Judgment Sword, will watch you strictly. Come over here and let us talk."
The Clear-Judgment Sword spoke as he shook a sack of salt he had brought back as proof of his trading trip.
It was in full view of the public. The day was bright.
The attention of the crowd soon became power. This was especially true for a native warrior who had lived in Guizhou for a long time.
Yet, the Black Ranks did not spare him a single glance. They only watched Jeong Yeon-shin, who held his sword lowered. Each stood with arms crossed or straight-backed, utterly unfazed.
"It was likely plunder, not trade. The scent of blood leaking from his sword guard is unusual..." Yu Jeong-myeong, Commander of the Searing Abyss Unit, muttered while tapping the ground with his long leg. Beside him, the Master of the Martial Apex Hall smiled faintly.
"He is a lackey of the Dark Night Hall. Seeing how anxious he is, it seems Lord Cheon hit the mark. Let us just watch Unit Commander Jeong's demonstration of his stance. I look forward to seeing what comes of it."
The Clear-Judgment Sword, who had hoped to turn the crowd against the outsiders with a few self-righteous words, froze in his tracks.
Even with the hands of a swordsman trained over many years, he hesitated to draw his weapon.
The moment he heard the tall Brightfolk's casual remark, he became certain that this opposing group was extraordinary.
The reason he frequently went on "trading trips" yet kept no separate storehouses was simple: the Clear-Judgment Sword was the supply officer for the Dark Night Hall.
'Lords and Unit Commanders. Is it truly the Desolate Fortress? Are the Unit Commander-level absolute masters of the Divine Sword Corps really gathered here...?'
A look of grim determination settled on his face. It was the resolve of his clan. He did not mind dying here; he had to stop the youngest youth among them from attempting whatever he was planning.
By some bizarre twist of fate, they were standing precisely in front of the Life Gate of the Nine Provinces Trance-Demon Formation, which concealed the Dark Night Hall.
There were thirteen Black Ranks of the Desolate Fortress present.
What could they not achieve?
Although the Dark Night Hall's Nine Provinces Trance-Demon Formation had once deflected even the world-rending kick of the Beggar Sect Leader, the Divine Beggar of the Great Wilds, there was no telling what bizarre method of breaking it might emerge when thirteen grandmaster-level figures of a single sect gathered.
'He is definitely circulating his qi. If I can disrupt even a single hair on his head...'
The Clear-Judgment Sword's eyes scanned the profile of the youth in the distance. He possessed a countenance that recalled the legend of the ancient handsome man, Ban-ak. If the rumors were true, he must be the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, the Flash Art.
It was said his sense of qi was more sensitive than that of most Brightfolk. To disrupt his True Qi circulation even slightly, the Clear-Judgment Sword had to use an extremely stealthy method.
Fortunately, within the sleeve of the Clear-Judgment Sword lay a sacred relic imbued with spirituality.
It was a feather of the Ominous Bird, which could find the Lord of the Dark Night Hall wherever he was on this earth. Crafted by the hands of captured Ironfolk artisans, it had been transformed into a flying needle that rivaled the hidden weapons of the Tang Clan.
'The Dark Night Needle Scattering Technique.'
A throwing martial art that crossed mid-range distances without a sound. It was the reason why he, someone who had not mastered archery, could act as a direct descendant within the Dark Night Hall.
The problem was the sense of qi of the Desolate Fortress's Black Ranks. Could he move his fingers while deceiving the senses of absolute masters whose presence spanned the heavens? It was a matter he had to leave to heaven's luck.
There was a chance.
The divine art of the Dark Night Hall, which had undergone continuous advancement, boasted supreme stealth, particularly on the first strike.
The current Lord of the Dark Night Hall was universally acknowledged as the world's greatest assassin, even in this present era where the power of martial artists had reached its absolute peak.
The Clear-Judgment Sword subtly raised his arm.
"At least give me an answer! Are my words so trivial to you?!"
An incredibly thin flying needle slipped naturally from his sleeve. It moved as if blending into his finger, which was pointing directly at Jeong Yeon-shin.
In that instant, a triumphant look appeared in the Clear-Judgment Sword's eyes. It was a gaze that held a somewhat noble light.
'I may die here, but I will fulfill my heavenly mandate by sounding the alarm for the Young Lord...!'
Crack—!
It was a sound that echoed solely inside the Clear-Judgment Sword's body.
A sensation as hot as hellfire began at the Mingmen Point on his lower back and spread throughout his entire body. No, it felt as hot as if his acupoints were being incinerated, yet at the same time, it was freezing cold to the extreme.
The only thing he could clearly perceive was that his entire body had frozen solid in an instant.
'Ice arts!'
The Clear-Judgment Sword barely managed to roll his eyes to the side. A white breath was dispersing past his shoulder.
Amidst his rapidly fading senses, he could faintly feel the delicate presence of a woman.
Thanks to the powerful Cold Ice Energy, he could guess her identity even without seeing her. It was Cheon So-so, Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit.
"You are an example."
A clear, melodious voice followed in a low whisper.
"The Commander of the Demonlight Wing is precious. You fallen ones must not touch him."
The voice grew gradually fainter. Soon, the Clear-Judgment Sword could hear nothing at all.
His vision blurred as if shrouded in fog. He saw the Commander of the Demonlight Wing extending his sword toward the Nine Provinces Trance-Demon Formation in the wasteland.
The sight of sunlight cascading over his pitch-black hair felt strangely detached from reality.
'Not... so easily...'
Suddenly, the Clear-Judgment Sword's field of vision expanded vertically.
A colorless ripple spread from the tip of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing's sword. It was as if it had touched the surface of a placid lake. Along the endlessly expanding concentric circles, the very air shattered into pieces.
Transparent sunlight squeezed through the cracks, suddenly illuminating a cluster of trees and pavilions that appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the wasteland.
"..."
With a single strike of his sword, he had shattered an ancient formation.
The Clear-Judgment Sword could not fathom the profound truth behind it.
The cry he should have screamed only echoed within his mind. The resonance was directed toward a single person—words that the Young Lord, more noble than any Brightfolk in the world, would never hear.
Hiding the Ominous Bird meant for the Lord comes first.
Flee quickly.
'Even if the Ten-Mile One Kill is prepared in Tenfold Layers, he is someone you must never face...'
With his eyes wide open, he froze to death.