Chapter 410: Beijing (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 410: Beijing (2)
"The Nine Sects will win."
The young Taoist priest's boast was remarkably calm, especially considering he had just claimed they were the greatest under heaven.
Did he care nothing for the Eight Great Families? For a boy who looked twelve or thirteen at most, such audacity could only belong to someone who viewed the Eight Families as nothing more than mere macaques.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s head tingled, the alcohol settling over his mind like a thick fog as he recalled his past.
He remembered the days he had clashed with the experts of the Eight Families, wearing white, blue, and black robes in turn. In all those bloody battles, he had never once been guaranteed a victory.
If living in a village for a few years could make a stray dog smarter than an average child, what about those "monkeys" who had spent centuries honing their murderous talents in the sword forests of the Jianghu? They were martial warlords, inheriting profound arts that spanned the Orthodox and Tyrannical paths for generations. Such were the local aristocrats of the martial world that Yeon-shin had faced.
What incredible spirit. This child might actually understand how I feel.
Delighted by the grand audacity of this tiny Wudang disciple, Yeon-shin almost reached out to pat the boy's head.
He was just a young priest who knew nothing of the world, lacking manners because he had done nothing but train in the mountains. Stripped of his blunt speech, he was no different from Yeon-shin himself. One might even call him a Flash Art who knew no etiquette.
In this moment, a warm sense of kinship washed over Yeon-shin, mingling with the heady scent of alcohol. Words of blessing naturally flowed from his lips.
"Indeed, the Nine Sects will win."
From a distance, Bukgung-a, the Lord of the Wish-Fulfilling Spring, sat with her long legs crossed. Her voice drifted over. "Is he drunk?"
Beside him, the young priest softly chanted the Primordial Pacification Mantra.
"...His words and actions resemble those of the Hegemon Hero of yesteryear, but it is fortunate that his heart still holds some humility."
"A priest's insults are quite old-fashioned," Yeon-shin muttered casually. He knew that even if a child possessed transcendent martial arts, his inner maturity was still that of an ordinary youth. One shouldn't be too harsh with a child.
The young priest's expression turned strange.
"Whatever the case, it is of no great concern. More importantly, there is a matter we must address here. Do you truly intend to enter the duel wearing a black robe?"
"A purple robe isn't something you can wear just because you want to. It requires the Emperor's permission and the Castle Lord's recognition..."
"Are you not wearing one right now?"
Yeon-shin brushed off the young priest's words, barely listening as he reached for the tip of the bud-shaped Five-Rhyme Herb.
"Flash Art, as you know," Yong Hee-myung spoke up, watching Yeon-shin with a rather pleased expression. "No one is going to give us a signal. The Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit is right. Plucking this Five-Rhyme Herb might look like a trivial game at first glance, but there's nothing better for aligning our movements before a joint attack. Let's pluck it in perfect sync."
"Does the Unit Commander ever actually perform joint attacks?"
Yeon-shin asked, caressing the rough tip of the Five-Rhyme Herb with his thumb and index finger. To his right, Ak Su-rim playfully tapped her knuckles against his, but he simply focused his blurry vision, locking eyes with Yong Hee-myung.
"You're asking about a joint attack between Purple Ranks. As long as our speed matches, there's no reason we can't. Does a Great Sect War ever consist of only one-on-one duels? Melees are far more common." Yong Hee-myung smirked and continued. "As you know... there's no rule saying only one peerless expert will attack you at a time. If you have a bad day and end up trapped in something like the Nine Extremes Thunderbolt Formation of Taemo Mountain Fortress, you'll have no choice but to wait for reinforcements. The martial world is damn vast, after all."
Taemo Mountain Fortress. It belonged to the Thirteen Heavens of the Wicked Way.
It was a sect that had secretly contributed to the Net of Heaven and Earth, a trap designed to assassinate Yong Hee-myung in the past. It was said that they exclusively practiced sorcery martial arts. The saying that the Jianghu was vast was entirely true. One could never overstate the danger of a coordinated attack targeting the Desolate Fortress.
"It won't be easy for the Divine Sword Corps to gather like this again. Let's align our hands once before we disperse. It should be quite fun."
Though he had claimed there would be no signal, those very words coincidentally became the trigger to strike. It happened right after Hahu Wi-jin's massive fingers twitched, as if he could no longer bear to just sit and listen.
The moment the fingertips of Yong Hee-myung, Ak Su-rim, and Cheon So-so moved in rapid succession—
—It seems my words did not reach you properly. Does the Commander of the Demonlight Wing truly intend to participate in the Mount Hua Agreement with the status of a Black Rank?
A telepathic thought vibrated through his mind, similar to the Buddhist Wisdom Light Mind Speak. A small arm intruded from Yeon-shin's left.
It was the young priest.
His hand slipped in smoothly, pressing down on the back of Cheon So-so's hand. It was a grappling technique that practically cleaved through time itself. The martial principles loaded into that single gesture were incredibly profound.
—I must show you that this goes against both the common sense of the Jianghu and the principles of fair play. Step back.
"...!"
Just as Cheon So-so's pale fingertips brushed against the leaf and slipped away, Yeon-shin suddenly grabbed the young priest's hand.
Wuuung—
A colorless wave rippled out. The air warped into a translucent haze under the fierce shockwave unique to the Infinite Flower of Time Hand.
But it did not last long. With a single twist of his wrist, the young priest shook off Yeon-shin's grip. The force within that gesture was robust yet incredibly soft, flowing as loftily as the ceaseless river outside the Divine Sword Pavilion.
Wudang Cotton Palm...?
Yeon-shin accelerated his train of thought, recalling one of the world-renowned divine ultimate techniques of the Nine Sects.
Kiiing!
A sharp ringing echoed from the Baihui acupoint at the crown of his head. It felt as though a single split second was being endlessly segmented, stretching each passing moment into eternity.
While his surroundings slowed to a crawl, he entered a realm where he alone moved at extreme speed. Yet, the young priest's hand calmly sliced through that slowed world, rising toward the tip of the Five-Rhyme Herb.
The Wudang Cotton Palm did not lose a fraction of its speed, even within Yeon-shin's peerless realm.
He's fast.
Yeon-shin unleashed the Infinite Flower of Time Hand once more. The air shimmered intensely, distorting like heat waves under a summer sun.
Thud—
The moment he clamped down on the boy's wrist with a grip full of solid, unyielding strength, the hem of the Wudang robe—embroidered with a sword and a pine tree—billowed softly. In a mere fraction of a second, the boy bent his elbow sharply and tapped Yeon-shin's forearm to break the hold.
Between the base and the tip of the large green bud, within that impossibly narrow space, two blurry trajectories tangled. Sharp, metallic ringing sounds echoed outward. Shaking off the opponent's hand, getting caught, and breaking free again—the cycle repeated in a blur.
Although even the most trivial matters could trigger a fight in the martial world, Yeon-shin had never expected to be the one embroiled in such a petty dispute. Even now, he didn't fully understand his own impulses. He simply wanted the Divine Sword Corps to pluck the Five-Rhyme Herb together.
—Your will is incredibly intense. It is like the waterfall across the Sword-Releasing Pond. Indeed, how can someone with such martial prowess not carry themselves as a Purple Rank?
It was then. Drawing a small circle with one arm, the young priest tapped the back of Yeon-shin's hand.
In an instant, a colossal force surged. It was as if the entire roaring flow of the Yangtze River had been unleashed from his palm.
The Wudang Cotton Palm. Even in his drunken state, Yeon-shin realized it instinctively.
The force the two of them had poured out during their rapid clash was being completely redirected back at him, riding the invisible, cyclical flow of Taiji. Yeon-shin's hand was forced downward.
At the same time, the young priest's telepathic voice echoed in his mind.
—Know your own status and strength. There are few in the entire world who can match me in a grappling technique for this long.
It was said that Wudang's palm techniques could vie for the title of the world's greatest against any other sect. Their grappling techniques were even more formidable, as their ultimate purpose lay in completely sealing an opponent's movements.
In that case.
A harsh friction sound, like a clashing thunderbolt, erupted from Yeon-shin's palm. It was the precursor to the Brilliant River palm technique.
Perhaps that tyrannical momentum had reached him despite the close quarters, because a look of sheer horror suddenly crossed the young priest's face.
—You crazy bastard! How could you use such a thing here...! Do you intend to destroy everything?!
With that reaction, Yeon-shin learned one crucial thing: even Wudang's transcendent Taiji could not erase Brilliant River. Since there was no way for him to win with a pure grappling technique anyway, that realization was enough. In the grand scheme of things, he considered it a victory.
Swoosh.
A hand as white as jade rose smoothly and grasped the tip of the Five-Rhyme Herb. It was Cheon So-so, the Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit. As a supreme expert who had achieved the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak, there was no way she would remain frozen during the split second Yeon-shin and the young priest clashed.
Wuuung—
Yong Hee-myung's internal energy, which had transparently enveloped the Five-Rhyme Herb, faded away.
While the young priest hesitated, the five members of the Divine Sword Corps casually plucked the leaves of the herb in unison. At the same time, Yeon-shin's perception of time snapped back to normal.
The Five-Rhyme Mountain Herb Dish spread out like wide blue petals. It was exactly like the one Yeon-shin had once seen at the Jeong Family Manor. A rich, fragrant aroma wafted through the air.
"You could have just used your words. Typical martial artists, always resorting to force," Yong Hee-myung remarked casually.
The young priest, who had been staring blankly up at Yeon-shin, awkwardly cleared his throat. "Setting aside feng shui, this does not seem to be an auspicious place."
"It seems so. The lofty prestige you held high up on Mount Wudang has certainly taken a few hits today," Yong Hee-myung replied with a grin.
Shifting his gaze away from Yeon-shin, the young priest shook his head. "It is not as if I can unleash the Ten-Stage Brocade here..."
A world-shaking ultimate technique had just been casually mentioned. The Wudang Ten-Stage Brocade. It was a legendary name that ranked at the absolute pinnacle of all palm techniques under heaven. In other words, the priest was admitting there was no other palm technique he could use to counter Brilliant River without resorting to the Ten-Stage Brocade.
Yong Hee-myung wore a rather shameless expression. "Look forward to the Mount Hua Agreement. You can properly test your skills then."
In an instant, the young priest's face flushed red, finally making him look like a child of his apparent age. "What is the point of looking forward to next time? Especially when he insists on appearing as a Black Rank!"
"I do not understand why you are so angry. Wudang is a sect specially favored by the Emperor, and the martial prowess of its disciples should fear nothing under heaven."
"Are you truly...?"
Taking a deep breath, the young priest closed and opened his eyes to compose himself. Ignoring Yong Hee-myung, he raised his cup toward Yeon-shin.
"My desire to witness your martial arts got the better of me, and I have committed a great discourtesy. I offer my deepest apologies. Will you accept this cup?"
"Of course, of course. Do not take your mistake to heart. At your age, it is perfectly fine to make a few missteps."
Yeon-shin nodded with deliberate magnanimity. His head felt delightfully fuzzy. It was because he had channeled his internal energy without bothering to expel the alcohol from his body.
"...Yes, just take the cup."
The young priest offered it to him. In an instant, brilliant sunlight shimmered over the surface of the clear liquor. This was a phenomenon that only occurred when pure Orthodox internal energy permeated water.
Yeon-shin knew this well. It was said that the purer the true qi, the clearer the water became. This property had become famous due to an old anecdote about the Shaolin Abbot manifesting a miracle at a Buddhist assembly in Henan Province. The story went that while teaching that one could become a Buddha by reflecting the Buddha in one's own heart, the Abbot had turned the lake behind him into a flawless mirror to preach to the common people.
The cup currently being offered to Yeon-shin also perfectly captured the slanted rays of the sun. It meant an immense, concentrated amount of internal energy was loaded into the small vessel. Ordinary methods would not suffice to even accept the cup.
"Our brief clash earlier was not enough. I wish to properly gauge your achievements," the young priest challenged.
Yeon-shin nodded vaguely, thinking, He has a strong competitive streak, just like a child.
But just as he reached for the cup—
"No, you don't."
Leaning his upper body forward, Yong Hee-myung firmly snatched the cup instead. In an instant, the sun reflected in the liquor vanished as if it had all been an illusion. It was a manipulation of internal energy bordering on divine skill—a casual move by Yong Hee-myung, the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.
"Experiencing the Wudang Cotton Palm would certainly be a great lesson for Flash Art, who will now navigate the Jianghu as a Purple Rank," he continued leisurely. "But exposing his methods of manipulating true qi so nakedly before an immortal of the Nine Sects, of all people, is a completely different story. You must draw the line somewhere, Perfected One."
"...I came here for nothing. My dignity is in tatters."
"Please leave now. We are wrapping up here."
"Very well. I have nothing more to add. I shall look forward to our next meeting."
In an instant, the boy's figure vanished into thin air. Only a cool breeze remained, sweeping softly through the pavilion. It was a supreme body protection scripture that seemed to manifest clouds with one's very body.
"By the way," Yong Hee-myung laughed as he downed the cup of liquor. His eyes turned to Yeon-shin. "There are probably few in the main fortress who could treat the Wudang Ancient Sword of all people like a child. I witnessed quite a rare sight today."
"Pardon?" Yeon-shin asked, his response slightly delayed by the alcohol.
* * *
Perhaps because they were near the wealthy metropolis of Wuchang, the crowing of roosters swept through the dawn from the early hours of the morning.
The unit commanders of the Divine Sword Corps had spent the night at an inn just behind the pavilion. The innkeeper was waving his hands frantically outside the beaded curtain.
"Will this be enough? Even a single set of bedding is very hard to come by these days..."
"No, absolutely not! It was a great honor just to host you. Even if you leave just like this, I will boast of your stay to my descendants for generations!"
Yeon-shin was in the middle of paying for the bedding he had accidentally torn the night before when someone urgently called his name from afar.