Chapter 408: Peerless Realm (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 408: Peerless Realm (8)
The moonlight shone brightly in the night sky. A pale mist flowed gently, rippling like shimmering waves of light.
Atop a steeply rising mountain peak, a handsome, broad-shouldered middle-aged man gazed up at the full moon. His reddish-yellow robe hung loose and disheveled, exposing a scar-covered abdomen as he held a massive greatsword high in the air.
Whoosh—
The pitch-black blade plunged vertically.
The sound of it cleaving the air was a low, heavy thrum. His greatsword left a single, profound trajectory, devoid of any trickery.
Immediately after, the moon split.
A straight line of empty space cleft right through the softly glowing full moon.
It looked as though that single strike had sliced the moon in half. The mist scattering faintly on either side of the man created a surreal, dreamlike atmosphere.
Soon, the silence was broken.
Someone was clapping.
"A sword path as simple as your talent, yet holding such profound mystery. To condense such a shockwave into a single strike? Anyone would think it was the Unified Martial Transcendence."
The voice came from behind the swordsman, about five paces away.
A man wrapped in a pitch-black cloak smiled from beneath his bamboo hat. He loosely gathered his hands in front of his chest, tapping only his upper hand against the lower to produce the clapping sound. An ingrained mockery seeped from his very demeanor.
"Now it can truly be called the Three Styles of Breaking the Desolation. For the ultimate technique of the world's greatest fool, it doesn't seem like such an arrogant name anymore..."
"It is only the first style."
A deep, resonant voice flowed out. It was the reply of the man who now held his greatsword pointed at the ground.
After uttering those words, he fell silent, merely staring down at his blade.
On the wide blade, the two characters for 'Silent Art' were engraved.
The calligraphy was far from elegant or powerful; it was crooked, as if directly tracing a child's handwriting.
The Silent-Art Sword.
It was the token of the Hegemon Sword Sect, signifying the absolute status of its Sect Leader.
The man in the bamboo hat laughed silently.
"The first style? That is quite surprising. To withstand that strike... even I would have to unleash the Unified Martial Transcendence and push the Primordial Spirit Divine Palm to its absolute limit."
"State your business."
The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect lowered his blade to rest at his feet. He did not even twitch an eyebrow at the mention of the divine ultimate technique that symbolized the Thirteen Heavens' Yeoryeong Lord.
The Yeoryeong Lord slightly lowered the brim of his bamboo hat and crossed his arms. Then, he spoke.
"I almost died at the hands of the Ancient Sword. He pursued me with extreme tenacity. As if I were the murderer of his parents."
"...The Ancient Sword."
"In the end, he cried out the Beggar Sect Leader's name like a child, which wasn't amusing but rather chilling. If the world's greatest master of movement techniques had blocked my path, I would have lost my life right then and there."
"Did you flee all the way here?"
"Yes. I didn't even have time to receive a report on what happened to the Net of Heaven and Earth. I managed to shake him off using my lightness skill when the Ancient Sword made a clumsy swing from afar, but..."
"We won't be seeing him again."
"Indeed. Isn't that the limit of those thousand-year-old temples and monasteries known as the Nine Great Sects? In exchange for state recognition, they must always watch and endure the highly sporadic appearances of the strange, the violent, the chaotic, and the supernatural..."
His tone was laced with mockery.
The Yeoryeong Lord stroked his mouth, and through the gaps of the fingers slowly tracing his twisted lips, more words flowed out.
"While cornering the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, I received some rather significant information. A story that might pique your interest as well."
"Speak."
"They say the Mount Hua Sect has brewed another Purple Grace Pill. This makes it certain. Among the leaders of the Nine Great Sects who are merely warming their seats, Yul-ha is the most capable."
"The Purple Grace Pill... useless information."
The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect turned his gaze back to the moon. The full moon, which had been cleft in half by a dark line, was already regaining its original shape.
Saint Flower Sword God Yul Ha-nang-rang. She was known as someone who, exceptionally for a Mount Hua Sect Leader, had consumed only a single Purple Grace Pill.
She was famous for her eccentricity, choosing to distribute the countless spirit medicines of the prestigious Mount Hua Sect exclusively to her disciples.
Although her own monstrous sword talent made such a choice possible, many people of the Jianghu sent both respect and ridicule toward the Saint Flower Sword God.
Some gossips even concluded that it was a mere political trick to leave a good impression of the Mount Hua Sect on the world, claiming the rumors couldn't possibly be true.
However, once one reached the level of a great sect's leader, they would usually encounter the truth.
"Useless? She has entered closed-door cultivation again."
The Yeoryeong Lord feigned a serious expression.
Step.
As soon as his words fell, a footstep echoed. The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect had turned around. At the same time, the corners of the Yeoryeong Lord's mouth curled upward.
"Yes, if you leave now, you will be able to see the Saint Flower Sword God once she has fully absorbed the energy of the Purple Grace Pill. Since you are moving anyway, why not go and cut off her head?"
The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect stopped in his tracks. Conversely, the Yeoryeong Lord's words did not cease.
"As time passes, the descendants of the Nine Great Sects only grow stronger. Moreover, Yul-ha is still young. Flash Art, the Heaven-Smiling Invincible, Yul-ha... they are all sprouts that must be cut down, yet because of your stubbornness, you are letting two of them be, are you not?"
"Saint Flower is a touchstone."
"Ridiculous. Even today, you would have lived in your mental space for several more years through the royal family's torture methods. A man who has largely lost his humanity is still holding onto memories of his greenhorn days..."
In an instant, the moonlight was pushed away.
A sword suddenly emerged from the gaps of the darkened space. Before anyone could react, the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect was pointing the Silent-Art Sword directly at the Yeoryeong Lord's solar plexus.
It happened in a split second. There was absolutely no starting stance.
"Shaanxi is not the land of Lingering Spirit. Do not interfere," the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect warned.
The Yeoryeong Lord slowly parted his lips.
"...Even if it was a surprise attack, I do not understand. To pierce my eye technique with just a single strike? I know your lowly senses. Even if you spent three or four years repeatedly meditating, you couldn't possibly refine your insights to this level..."
"..."
"Since that day, how much longer did you stay in your mental space?"
"A hundred years."
The night air vibrated quietly.
* * *
Sunlight poured down on an elegant pavilion. From the wooden plaque beneath the roof, the characters for "Divine Sword Pavilion" seemed to exude a subtle scent of ink.
"Commander, your handwriting is terrible."
"What? I finally complied with the owner's request, only to hear this. You might not know, Flash Art, but back in the Main Fortress, this is considered quite..."
A gentle clamor drifted through the air.
The mist, the sand, and the distant mountain ridges at dawn all shimmered in the light. It was a pavilion built in the midst of a scenic riverside.
The surrounding ten miles were dead quiet. Even the three-story inn located right behind the pavilion remained perfectly silent, despite the fact that quite a few well-dressed people were seated by its windows.
It was a pavilion that anyone who loved elegance and poetry would covet.
But this was a world where not only human labor, but even the magnificent views of nature, were converted into money and food. Even in times of chaos, it was no different.
Wherever martial artists lived, blood-spattered conflicts over vested interests were bound to arise.
In fact, the large city of Wuchang was not far from the village behind them, and there used to be Black Way sects here that collected tolls and protection fees, emptying the purses of travelers who set foot in this foreign land.
But now, there were none.
"I have been negligent as a Commander. It has been quite some time since Flash Art became a Black Rank, yet I didn't even know what kind of delicacies he likes."
"Yong doesn't need to know. He'll be returning to a rankless Purple Rank soon anyway. Ji-geuk, did you order the Five-Rhyme Mountain Herb Dish?"
"It's Wiji."
Commander of the Divine Sword Corps Yong Hee-myung, Vice Commander of the Divine Sword Corps Ak Su-rim, and Commander of the Dragon-Treading Unit Wiji Geuk.
They were not the only ones. The lineup of those sharing food and drinks in the pavilion was incredibly illustrious—so much so that no one in the Jianghu had ever seen anything like it.
Martial artists sat in black robes and purple silk robes, the character for 'Desolate' embroidered proudly on their shoulders.
No one dared approach the pavilion.
Only two waiters carried food and wine, while a middle-aged man, clearly the owner, stood at the entrance of the inn, anxiously watching the gathering.
"I told you to move carefully! If you spill it, know that this day next year will be the anniversary of your death...!" the owner hissed in a shrill whisper.
He had no choice but to be terrified.
These people possessed extraordinary appearances, coupled with immense, suffocating martial power.
Although there were many fools who died in foreign lands after ignorantly pretending to be experts of the Desolate Fortress, at this moment, there was virtually no one who would doubt the identity of those gathered in the Divine Sword Pavilion.
Even if the atmosphere inside the pavilion seemed quite amicable.
"This is a particularly strong Dukang Wine. Is Flash Art accustomed to drinking? Looking at him now, there really is no handsome gentleman in the Divine Sword Corps quite like this fellow," Commander of the Divine Sword Corps Yong Hee-myung asked. Leaning casually against the railing of the pavilion, he looked exactly like a scholar who had closed his books and gotten heavily drunk.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who was sitting opposite him, nodded without hesitation.
"Of course."
"Well... of course you wouldn't be a lightweight. Then you must also know the proper way of drinking?"
"It is like water."
"I shall pour you a cup according to the etiquette of Beijing."
It was right after the root of Jeong Yeon-shin's tongue twisted like a feint in his mouth.
Yong Hee-myung's hand holding the wine cup drew a very small circle. The trajectory of the cup resembled a circulating Taiji.
As Jeong Yeon-shin stared blankly at the sight, Yong Hee-myung twitched his eyebrows.
"You have to copy it in reverse. It is an etiquette derived from the Brightfolk who seek the Limitless."
"...I know. It is just that it has been a while since I've sat at a drinking table."
"Understandable. Your hard work has been immense. No matter how many times I say it, it is hard to fully commend you."
The two of them drained their cups.
For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin's brow furrowed, but after a split second, his expression smoothed out again. It was the profound mystery of an extremely exquisite full-body Fa Jin at work.
Yong Hee-myung curled his lips into a smile.
"You drink well. Even the imperial family's Head Eunuch would not dare request a cup from me. Know that you are not beneath him either."
"Seeing you up close, it feels new. When did you grow this much?" Ak Su-rim looked up at Jeong Yeon-shin from beside him. Her chin was resting on her small hand, a beaming smile on her face.
Behind her, a faded Brightfolk martial artist lay sprawled haphazardly on the floor. It was the Young Lord of the Dark Night Hall, whose pressure points had been sealed.
Yong Hee-myung, glancing at Ak Su-rim with slight annoyance, spoke up.
"Everyone, listen up for a moment."
His voice swept gently across the floor of the pavilion. The internal energy loaded into his words was incredibly dense.
It was to the extent that even Hahu Wi-jin, who was elegantly placing a piece of beef jerky into his mouth on one side, paused.
Even Jin Myeong-jo, who was standing with his back turned in the middle of the water dozens of yards away from the pavilion, turned around.
"We must decide on our respective courses of action. First, I must tell you that disbanding is inevitable. Returning to the Main Fortress together right now is a highly dangerous choice. The imperial family will be extremely wary of us..."
"Yeah, well... if we move as a group any further, we'll definitely be framed for treason. The Commander of the Divine Sword Corps would be bringing about the destruction of the Desolate Fortress."
Ak Su-rim brushed back the short hair that had fallen over her neck. None of the Unit Commanders denied her words.
Yong Hee-myung nodded.
"I have more than achieved my personal goals. We survived, and now the Jianghu will hesitate, if only for a moment. After all, leaders equivalent to half of the Thirteen Heavens have passed away."
"The Commander of the Demonlight Wing played a huge role. It is safe to say he was the core," Commander of the Dragon-Treading Unit Wiji Geuk chimed in, fiddling with the rope at his waist.
They spared speaking of the Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing, Ha Do-un. They merely suppressed their anger toward the Jianghu amidst the victory they celebrated at this moment.
"Yes, returning to our respective mission sites comes first. Since we have sufficiently shown ourselves to the Jianghu, we must ensure that we do not leak our individual martial arts any further. And Flash Art, you will accompany me to the Forbidden City..."
Just then, Yong Hee-myung suddenly furrowed his brow.
Jeong Yeon-shin parted his lips, glancing to his side.
"Your Body Protection Scripture is quite remarkable, but you seem too young to be near alcohol," he said. It was a highly mature voice.
To have such achievements at such a young age... there is a genius even greater than me, Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
The figure beside him, who had been touching a cup with an interested expression, suddenly froze. It was a young Taoist boy.
He wore a pure white Taoist robe embroidered with cranes and swords, and at his waist, he carried a sword engraved with a pine tree pattern.
The boy spoke up.
"Are you talking to me?"
"This is a place for adults. Martial arts are not everything. Come back after you finish your Elementary Learning."
Jeong Yeon-shin's words were quiet yet solemn. For a moment, the boy's expression became somewhat awkward.