Chapter 41: Natural Enemy Martial Art (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 41: Natural Enemy Martial Art (2)
The stream flowing from the lake shimmered, embracing the sunlight.
The boat carrying the Rising Stars of the Deep Martial Alliance continued its forward journey without pause. Only its master had changed.
As they drifted, Jeong Yeon-shin listened to Zen Master Won-jong's story.
It was a tale that felt like a gust of wind winding across the rippling water.
"I was about your age. Foolish and immature, with a body as plump as a piglet. Quite unlike you, who already stands tall as a man of the Jianghu."
An early spring breeze blew. The old monk's voice seemed to seep into the trees lining the riverbank.
"My family's prestige was great. My late father resided in the Forbidden City. At least, that was the case until he was framed and exiled. Thanks to the Emperor's generosity toward a loyal subject, we barely escaped with our lives. Even that was a miracle."
"And then, at the place of exile...?"
"Our family became a martial clan stripped of its backing. Yes, we were prime targets for the Blood Flame Cult, who coveted our True Qi. I had been out playing leader with my peers, only to return and find no one left alive. Rumor had it that the Blood Flame Cult Leader himself had come. I... wept bitterly before my late father's withered corpse."
His voice was sorrowful. It carried a deep-seated resentment that had not weathered away despite the passage of time.
"By a stroke of luck, I caught the eye of my master while he was out begging for alms, and I ascended Mount Song. Yet even after becoming a monk, my worldly vexations would not subside. I knew my own lack of talent. That was why I thought differently."
"Creating a natural enemy through martial arts..."
At Jeong Yeon-shin's murmur, Zen Master Won-jong nodded.
"I resolved to restore a martial art solely to destroy the Blood Flame Cult—one imbued with the Buddha's Dharma power. I planned to have my martial brothers learn it. The highly talented martial monks of Shaolin would surely welcome it. Yet, even in this, there was vexation. Even if I created it, it posed a problem. I wondered if I was merely pushing my brothers into the jaws of death—straight to the Blood Flame Cult Leader."
Jeong Yeon-shin silently agreed.
He had heard that the Blood Flame Cult Leader possessed a strange, violent, chaotic, and supernatural power.
Although the masters of the Thirteen Heavens were said to be comparable to the leaders of the Nine Sects, there were exceptionally powerful, absolute masters in this vast world.
The Blood Flame Cult Leader, the Shaolin Abbot, and the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps at the Desolate Fortress were said to be among them.
The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect was also counted among the strongest in the world in terms of martial prowess.
Even if such a martial art were created, it would still be a problem.
The Shaolin Abbot could not simply learn it himself and seek out the Blood Flame Cult Leader.
Such was the weight borne by one who led the Orthodox factions at the peak of the Jianghu.
If he were to lose, the repercussions would be irreversible.
"That is how life in this world is," said Jeong Yeon-shin. Though he had only turned sixteen this year, he spoke with solemn gravity. "No matter how hard you run, the end is rarely in sight. You can only take it one step at a time."
Zen Master Won-jong stared at him blankly before turning his gaze away once more.
"The realization of one who has not lived even a quarter of my life is greater than mine."
"My family was also destroyed by the Blood Flame Cult. The Hegemon Sword Sect and the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect came with them."
"...You showed me. You showed me the martial art for which I had only grasped the barest clue. I will not ask how you did it. It is said that one must not pry into the secrets of a fellow martial artist. Now, I have only one question left."
This time, Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head to look at Zen Master Won-jong's profile.
The nameless river flowing into the Yellow River stretched out endlessly.
The sight of the old monk gazing at the distant horizon seemed to speak of the life he had walked.
He was a monk and a man of the Jianghu who had clung to a single worldly vexation throughout his life, unable to let it go.
Zen Master Won-jong spoke.
"Tell me, how can I help you? It matters only that a martial art to crush evil and reveal the truth is brought into the world. With such achievements at your age, your talent will surely bring you to the realm of an absolute master one day."
"I am grateful for your kind words."
Jeong Yeon-shin's expression brightened.
He had been feeling a sense of lack lately. It was difficult to refine the mnemonics with only the brief teachings of Buddhist Dharma he had received from the Young Divine Monk Gakjeong.
Normally, martial arts mnemonics also organize the nature of the intent to be infused into the True Qi.
Even a cheap manual of the Three Talents Sword Art found in the marketplace would contain phrases like, 'When slashing horizontally, imagine splitting heaven and earth.'
In internal Qigong, what martial artists referred to as 'enlightenment' was usually of this nature.
It meant finding a more appropriate intent to guide and utilize one's accumulated internal power.
Although Jeong Yeon-shin could deduce the method of circulating True Qi after seeing almost any profound principle just once, delving deeper into the intent would inevitably elevate its power to an entirely different level.
He eagerly sat closer to Zen Master Won-jong.
"I believe you mentioned the tenth section of the Diamond Sutra. The passage from the 'Adorning Pure Lands' section."
"...?"
"I believe it goes, Abide nowhere, yet let the mind arise."
"What?"
"I am asking for a sermon."
* * *
The splendid flower-viewing boat drifted along the river, flowing with time.
The Rising Stars of the Deep Martial Alliance did not actually row the boat; Jeong Yeon-shin had gathered them in a corner. This time, he did not seal their dantians.
This was because commoners were involved. Killing Geomyehwa was already enough.
There was still a high chance that misfortune would befall the boatmen and the women.
Purify the six senses, so that the mind abides nowhere.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood perfectly still. Except for when he was listening to Zen Master Won-jong's sermon, he kept his eyes closed, immersing himself in meditation.
His mere silence instilled fear. Jeong Yeon-shin had decapitated Geomyehwa, a famous figure in the region, with a single blow.
To the young men of the Deep Martial Alliance, he seemed to display the arrogance and absolute confidence of one destined to lead the future Desolate Fortress.
He overheard them whispering that he was a genius born of heaven's mistake. Jeong Yeon-shin smiled bitterly to himself. The words did not feel entirely wrong.
"We will disembark here," he said to the boatmen.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at Zen Master Won-jong, who had stepped off first, and then looked back.
Were they trying to see him off? The lined-up Rising Stars of the Deep Martial Alliance hesitated. It was a behavior Jeong Yeon-shin had never seen before; the teachings of the prestigious clans he knew did not produce such cowardly underlings.
They are not true Rising Stars. The term means the foremost among the younger generation; it is not a title to be thrown around lightly.
The Deep Martial Alliance was also a wing of the Thirteen Heavens. He figured their true Rising Stars must be elsewhere.
Someone like the successor to the Leader of the Deep Martial Alliance would be on an entirely different level from these fools.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.
"What are you doing?"
"Huh?"
"Riffraff like you staying with innocent commoners? What a joke. Get off."
"..."
"You are coming with me to the Heavenly Sword Clan. I will leave your disposal to the Desolate Fortress. You are lucky. You won't die right away."
Jeong Yeon-shin decided to claim their capture as a contribution. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner.
They had attempted to kill a martial artist of the Desolate Fortress, a Shaolin monk, and innocent commoners.
Combined with their affiliation with the Thirteen Heavens, this was more than enough to be recorded as a significant contribution.
Jeong Yeon-shin bound their arms behind their backs with binding ropes. Since what he had on hand was not enough, he quickly braided thick straw ropes on the spot. It was called gosak, a technique he had learned as a warrior of the Desolate Fortress.
When carrying out a mission, there were always targets who had to be brought back alive.
Under the warm, highly satisfied gaze of Zen Master Won-jong, Jeong Yeon-shin set off, driving the captives ahead of him.
As they reached the official road, passersby tilted their heads in confusion as the group walked past.
Some of the captives hesitated, as if finding the public humiliation unbearable.
"Keep moving."
He sharply projected an aura that promised instant death to anyone who tried to escape. That was enough.
The captives resumed walking, prodded along by Jeong Yeon-shin's curt commands.
It was then.
"Are you not the young masters of the Deep Martial Alliance?!"
It was an escort agency caravan—people who safely transported goods and passengers across the treacherous Central Plains.
A middle-aged man leading the caravan approached with a smooth smile, only to freeze in his tracks. He appeared to be the one in charge of the escort mission.
An escort leader, perhaps?
He clearly recognized the greenhorns of the Deep Martial Alliance.
The fools Jeong Yeon-shin had captured had been enjoying a boat ride nearby under the guise of laying an ambush.
It was not surprising that they were acquainted with the local escort agency.
"What... what is the meaning of this...?"
"They have committed crimes and have been captured by the Desolate Fortress. These men are currently not free. We do not require assistance, so please move along," Jeong Yeon-shin said, stepping forward.
The middle-aged man's face twisted into a bizarre expression.
It was only natural, given that a mere youth was orchestrating such a strange scene.
"Did you just say that you belong to the Desolate Fortress, young master?"
Instead of answering, Jeong Yeon-shin pulled an identification token from his robes. It was the Desolate Fortress Token.
The tree engraved in gold plating caught the bright sunlight.
Upon seeing the token, the middle-aged man's expression turned peculiar. Jeong Yeon-shin noticed it immediately.
To this man, securing the release of the Deep Martial Alliance's young masters was what mattered. Perhaps he hoped to gather some crumbs of favor.
His loyalty seemed to lean toward the nearby Deep Martial Alliance rather than the distant Desolate Fortress in Huguang Province.
Not everyone who associates with the Unorthodox factions is like this man.
He had heard that some were forced to maintain relations out of necessity.
Few could maintain their principles in front of a cold, sharp blade.
But to draw a sword so readily like this middle-aged man? A fellow like him was just another member of the Unorthodox factions. The man spoke.
"I cannot believe this. It seems some powerful adults pulled off a pathetic scheme together and dumped the task on you. What ignorant fools. If they truly knew the Deep Martial Alliance, they would never dare do such a thing."
Had some country bumpkin deeply misunderstood the situation? It had been the same with the Xinye White Martial Arts Sect.
The difference between prestigious sects like the Nine Sects and minor sects seemed to lie more in their judgment than their martial prowess.
Just as Jeong Yeon-shin reached for his sword hilt—
"Escort Geum! What is going on?"
From the middle of the halted caravan, a young man opened a carriage door and stepped out.
"Ah, Young Master. You are our guest, you should have remained seated..."
The middle-aged man, turning his head away even with Jeong Yeon-shin right in front of him, offered a smooth smile.
A slight look of embarrassment crossed his face. Jeong Yeon-shin could guess why.
The aura radiating from the large-eyed young man was pure and righteous.
With that temperament at his age, and in this location, he must be the Young Master of the Heavenly Sword Clan.
They had almost arrived. The Heavenly Sword Clan was said to double as a branch of the Desolate Fortress.
Since there had been more than enough time for news of the chaos in Xinye County to reach them, it was only natural for him to patrol and guard the surrounding area.
Jeong Yeon-shin took a step forward.
"I am from the Desolate Fortress—"
"My goodness! To think I would be the first in my clan to meet the young hero Flash Art!"
He seemed to have swept his gaze over Jeong Yeon-shin's attire and the token in his hand in an instant.
The Young Master of the Heavenly Sword Clan approached with an excited face, even utilizing his lightness skill to close the distance.
Greetings were rapidly exchanged, along with the young master mentioning that he had heard much of Yeon-shin's achievements through the Desolate Fortress's information network. He seemed to have forgotten even to clasp his hands in salute.
While the middle-aged man's face contorted, the Young Master of the Heavenly Sword Clan continued to make a fuss.
"I knew it the moment I read that you had taken the head of the Eight-Fanged Rakshasa Sword! I knew a figure destined to become a dragon had appeared! Indeed, seeing you now, even the light in your eyes is extraordinary!"
"Are you the Young Master of the Heavenly Sword Clan? Are there other members of our fortress at your residence right now?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked, refusing to be swept away by the other's energetic momentum. This was a moment where priorities had to be clearly distinguished.
Immediately, a strange light flickered in the eyes of the Heavenly Sword Clan's Young Master.
His demeanor grew calm in an instant, to the point where one might wonder if this was his true self.
"That is correct. I am Hyeon Yu-ryang of the Heavenly Sword Clan."
Only then did he smile faintly and clasp his hands in salute.
"Many have already arrived and are waiting. I was told that once you arrive, all members of the Demonlight Wing deployed for this mission will be gathered. There was also a Shaolin monk. With the Demonlight Wing, the Young Divine Monk, and Flash Art... today must be a day of great revelation."
"Thank you for the information. If you will excuse me for a moment."
Jeong Yeon-shin pulled a gourd bottle from his robes. Holding it in his left hand, he tilted it to pour water onto his right hand.
While the onlookers watched in bewilderment, his swift steps brought him directly in front of the middle-aged man from the escort agency.
The man posing as an escort spoke.
"I still don't believe it. You prove your identity with a single token? It's not as if the Ironfolk exist only in the Desolate Fortress!"
"The moment Young Master Hyeon stepped forward, I felt a wave of energy from your body. It was very familiar. You bastards simply cannot hide it."
Jeong Yeon-shin fully activated the stacked True Qi of the Scripture of Initial Overcoming.
As his figure kicked off the ground and spun, the final words of his sentence echoed from behind the middle-aged man.
His fingertips, wrapped in the wind, felt icy cold. He reached out with his wet hand and swept it through the man's hair. The black dye washed away onto his palm, revealing a streak of bright red hair.
"This is highly significant," Jeong Yeon-shin murmured calmly.
Chaos erupted among the escort agency members who had been watching with anxious eyes.
The Blood Flame Cult's doctrine of being unable to conceal their crimson hair was widely known.
It seemed to have nothing to do with dyeing it; no one had ever heard of such a flawless dye.
It was the same for Jin Yul, who had posed as a noble young master. He, too, had been acting as an assassin for the Blood Flame Cult.
No matter how they had achieved it, this would prove just as lethal as the bald Blood Flame Cultists.
It was said that the Blood Art was exceptionally fast to master at the introductory level.
If they can conceal their hair...
It would be incredibly easy for them to infiltrate various sects and escort agencies as spies.
Hyeon Yu-ryang was different from the frozen Blood Flame Cultist. Being highly perceptive, his face hardened instantly.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at Zen Master Won-jong and spoke.
"You said you were thinking of restoring Shaolin's Avalokiteshvara Azure Steel Hand. I would like to include the words 'Azure Steel Hand' in the name of the martial art. Would you permit it?"
"Amitabha. It is rather a great honor."
He seemed to understand what Yeon-shin meant. Zen Master Won-jong raised a single palm.
The half-palm salute. It was the etiquette of the Shaolin Temple. From a certain point, his attitude toward Jeong Yeon-shin had become exceedingly respectful.
His speech and behavior had completely changed as well. He deemed it the proper courtesy due to a young grandmaster.
"You worthless trash! How dare you, in front of whom...!"
The infuriated Blood Flame Cultist spun around. The moment his eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin's, a sinister wave of energy surged.
Jeong Yeon-shin, however, welcomed it. He could feel a considerably refined power.
Could it be the Blood Master Sword? Perhaps there are black strands hidden within that dyed hair.
Now, no matter how many of them there are, it is meaningless.
Surrounded by the escort agency of Mount Pingding, the Young Master of the Heavenly Sword Clan, the Shaolin martial monk, and the Rising Stars of the Deep Martial Alliance, Jeong Yeon-shin slowly raised his hand.
His aura possessed a different quality than before.
The energy radiating from his entire body bore the aspect of a Buddhist Dharma King.
It was powerful enough to calmly wash over the exploding, sinister aura of the Blood Flame Cultist.
"The riffraff here is you," he said.
And with those words, he moved his hand.