Chapter 422: Martial Lineage (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 422: Martial Lineage (3)
A solitary footstep echoed against the earth.
Step.
Touching down softly, Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his eyelids for a brief moment.
The summer forest wrapped around him, pressing a hot, muggy dampness against his skin. The ground beneath his boots felt strangely soft—a damp, clinging texture.
He stood on the lands of the Jeong Family Manor.
To be exact, the mountain behind it: the ancestral graveyard where the retainers and kin of the wealthy landlord clan were laid to rest.
'So the strange rumors in Dengfeng County were true.'
He had arrived earlier with the Demonlight Wing in the city closest to Shaolin—Dengfeng County, nestled at the foot of Mount Song.
Just as he was about to head straight to the guest quarters reserved for those with business at Shaolin, he caught wind of a rumor: the immortals of the Diancang Sect were heading toward the ancestral home of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing.
He had to come. He hadn't been able to visit his family's graves the previous year.
Around this time last year, Yeon-shin had been in Sichuan. It was the very day his maternal grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok, had attempted to drag the Blood Flame Cult Leader down to hell with him.
'But...'
He slowly turned his head.
The scenery around him felt unfamiliar.
At this moment, the few half-formed, stone-like figures kneeling at the bottom of the graveyard hill were of no consequence.
The words they had thrown at the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, were worth less than a monkey's breath.
A brick wall surrounded his mother's grave, enclosing it like a royal tomb.
A muggy wind brushed uselessly against the stone with a low whoosh before blowing toward Yeon-shin. He could sense a sinister energy lingering on its surface.
'The Blood Flame Cult's Blood Shadow Rakshasa Hands.'
The smoothly severed surfaces of the stone were familiar.
These clean cuts were the traces of an incredibly sharp hand art's shockwave. Was there any need to wonder who had done this? There was only one person capable of it.
It had to be the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.
'I don't feel her energy signature now, but what on earth did she do here...?'
Though it had been a long time since he came of age, the foundation of Jeong Yeon-shin's martial arts was the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
The core principle running through that martial art was his mother. No matter who did what in this graveyard, he was bound to perceive it with extreme sensitivity.
It was the same now. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
'What should I do with you?'
It was a moment to reflect anew on the debts of gratitude and vengeance in the martial world.
"So you are the Flash Art of the Jeong family."
An elderly voice pierced his ears. It was clearly a low murmur, yet it felt as if an invisible blade were scraping the inside of his skull.
Only then did Yeon-shin raise his head.
He saw an old woman leaning on a sword plunged into the earth like a walking stick. Standing beside her was the Small Sword Empress of the Diancang Sect.
The Small Sword Empress, Chwi So-ok, was staring at Yeon-shin with wide eyes. It was a stark contrast to their past encounter, back when he had been returning to the main fortress while escorting his mummified maternal grandfather and the Elder Council Head.
Back then, her quiet, probing attempts to pry information out of him had been annoying; now, she was too busy scanning his robes in disbelief.
"Who might you be?" Yeon-shin asked.
At his blunt tone, several Diancang Sect disciples bristled. Anger flared on their faces, yet none dared to speak out of turn.
It was likely because an elder of their sect had stepped forward. Such was the strict etiquette of the prestigious orthodox sects.
"My name is Geum Seon-seon," the old woman said, gazing at him intently.
That was enough.
Even without any further introduction, the name spoke for itself.
If the listener were an orthodox martial artist, they would have dropped into a bow of deep reverence on the spot. If they walked the heterodox path, they would have immediately checked to see if their head was still attached to their shoulders.
Such was the magnitude of the footprint the Sword Empress, Geum Seon-seon, had left upon the martial world.
Her legendary feat from a few years ago was famous: she had split the mouth of the Yangtze River below the Red Cliffs in half while fending off a joint attack from the Three Immortals of Taemo Mountain Fortress.
At the time, the entire region south of the Yangtze River talked of nothing else. The tale had even reached the ears of Yeon-shin back when he was still practicing the Jeong Family Dynamic Art in a remote corner of Xinye County, Henan Province.
He slowly clasped his hands in a polite salute.
"I am Jeong Yeon-shin."
Rustle.
His purple sleeves slid down, shimmering with a faint, elegant light. Watching this silently, the old woman spoke in a measured tone.
"In the end... the Desolate Fortress has gained a new Purple Rank."
"I am still lacking."
"I do not know whether to call it a blessing that you are not a Black Rank, or to worry that the storm of blood destined to sweep through the martial world has grown even darker. After all, the Desolate Fortress is not a place that shows mercy just because an opponent belongs to the Nine Sects, is it?"
"I have never doubted the righteousness of the Nine Sects. As long as the safety of the people is prioritized over the prosperity of various lay sects, our fortress will treat the disciples of the mountain sects as immortals."
Yeon-shin spoke calmly.
Perhaps because he had completely changed his attire, every word he uttered seemed to carry the immense weight of someone representing the Desolate Fortress.
Or perhaps it was because he had been called a 'dignified one' by the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, Yong Hee-myung. He felt a sense of responsibility he had never experienced before.
Indeed, although the Sword Empress before him spoke to him as a junior, she had been observing Yeon-shin with extreme intensity from the very beginning—even though she was the greatest sword of Diancang, a master who had enjoyed world-renowned fame for decades.
"...I heard you came to pay respects to my mother."
"I cannot say I was entirely without selfish motives. However, I intended to show the utmost respect."
At the Sword Empress's words, Yeon-shin turned his head toward Ma Se-in behind him. The moment his eyes met those of his distant maternal relative, he asked,
"What's going on?"
"What about you? What happened? I heard you went to Beijing with the Commander, but those clothes... are they really...?"
"You're wearing Blue. It suits you quite well."
"Why does that suit you so... No, wait... Please, ask your questions."
Ma Se-in bowed his head slightly toward Yeon-shin.
It seemed he had realized a bit late that there were people around them. Yeon-shin let out a faint smile and asked about what had transpired, and Ma Se-in readily answered.
The prestigious Diancang Sect had come to honor the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, who had achieved unbelievable feats in Sichuan. The Desolate Fortress group could not simply sit idly by, and the local aristocrats of Southern Zhili had followed them because they had business with the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin...
Throughout all this, Namgung Hwa-shin had merely stood there like a statue.
Without showing any particular surprise, he simply bowed once to Yeon-shin and silently stared down at the Heavenly Sword. Glancing at him, Yeon-shin spoke to Ma Se-in.
"Paying respects is a good thing, but you should have just focused on practicing your martial arts."
"How could we just stand by? No one knows what the Small Sword Empress of Diancang truly harbors in her heart, and it would be improper to let people from other sects visit the grave of Unit Commander Jeong's mother unattended."
Ma Se-in managed to say everything he wanted to say, all while maintaining a polite tone.
He looked ready to shift his weight to one leg in defiance if chided too harshly. Yeon-shin felt certain that, in the Ma clan's competition of gentlemanly conduct, he himself held a slight advantage.
"I suppose you came to Henan on a mission?"
"We requested that Shaolin extend the Brightfolk secret arts to Huguang as well. Since they wouldn't easily accept, we are currently holding martial duels in a Great Sect War, but we have been suffering consecutive defeats. The martial artists of Dengfeng County seem to view this as a prelude to the Mount Hua Agreement... I am deeply sorry."
"Consecutive defeats?"
Yeon-shin's brow twitched.
He immediately turned around and clasped his hands to the Sword Empress once more.
"I wish to honor my mother alone. I will gratefully accept only the sentiment of your journey here."
"...We must heed the words of her direct bloodline. So be it."
Yeon-shin did not relax his naturally tensed muscles until the old woman slowly turned around. It was due to the immense pressure radiating from the Sword Empress's gaunt frame.
It felt like standing against a cushion of countless needles.
Even though her energy was clearly restrained, it felt as if she were projecting an infinite number of sword tips. Yeon-shin's innate senses pierced through the decades etched into her body.
'A realm where the body and Unified Martial Transcendence are one...'
As the light in Yeon-shin's eyes sank heavily, the Sword Empress, who had been leaving with her disciples, suddenly stopped.
"Having my back turned to you is highly uncomfortable. It feels as though the sword at your waist might pierce this old body's rusted spine at any moment."
Crack.
In an instant, the Sword Empress's back straightened.
It was an unbelievable sight. Her dry, brittle hair instantly regained its luster, flowing in glossy black waves, and the wrinkled skin on the backs of her hands peeking out from her sleeves smoothed over.
The only thing that remained unchanged were the iron-like calluses on her palms.
"I shall look forward to the Mount Hua Agreement."
Even her voice flowed out like that of a young woman's. If the Sword Empress were to look back at Yeon-shin at this moment, she would surely reveal a face that no longer belonged to an old woman.
This was different from true Rejuvenation. Rejuvenation was not achieved simply by possessing high martial arts.
It was said that the physical body's time would rewind only when enlightenment, fated encounters, and one's martial arts aligned perfectly through heavenly luck. It was literally the realm of supreme fortune.
'But...'
The Sword Empress seemed to have reversed time through sheer martial arts alone. That was why it was temporary.
It was also terrifying. It meant her Orthodox Divine Art had surpassed the stage of late blooming and had begun to overflow the vessel of her physical body. It was a state fitting for the Purple Rank of the martial world, where the Strange, Violent, Chaotic, and Supernatural ran rampant.
"Safe travels," Yeon-shin said, feigning composure. He could no longer enter the fray as a Black Rank. As one who now held a seat among the Purple Ranks, he could not afford to show nothing but awe toward an opponent.
"It is not easy. Not easy at all..."
The Sword Empress shook her head as she walked down the hill. The Small Sword Empress and the other Diancang disciples followed her in silence.
Even then, the local aristocrats of Southern Zhili, who were still kneeling under the pressure of Yeon-shin's Qilin's Judgment, kept squirming as if begging for his attention.
None of them dared to speak. They had caused a disturbance at the burial site of a Desolate Fortress Purple Rank's mother.
If they spouted sophistry in front of the man himself, their heads would likely fly off. They could only beg for mercy with their eyes.
Yeon-shin did not even look at them.
He simply bowed to his mother alongside Ma Se-in, and then locked eyes with Namgung Hwa-shin, who was standing his ground like a bear.
"Would you like to learn?"
he asked. He sounded just like the boy who had once taken the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam from a lower vantage point than the White Qilin. Namgung Hwa-shin would have surely discerned a glimpse of his older brother, the Azure Qilin, within the sword moves of Qilin's Judgment.
Gazing blankly at Yeon-shin, Namgung Hwa-shin shook his head.
"I do not know. Whether I am qualified..."
"That is not for us to decide here."
Speaking to him informally as a matter of course, Yeon-shin led the Desolate Fortress group down the mountain.
Upon reaching the old site of the Jeong Family Manor, they were met with unfamiliar faces.
All sorts of luggage and bundles were piled high like mountains, and over a hundred people were busily running around, shouting and moving supplies. The detached building of the old Jeong Family Manor was being used as a warehouse.
There, Yeon-shin heard words that struck him like a bolt from the blue.
"Who are we, you ask? As you can see, this is the headquarters of the Stable House Merchant Group..."
"A merchant group?"
"Ah, I heard that people who have debts with the old Jeong family sometimes come looking for them. Our merchant group leader bought this land. I heard the second son of that family sold it..."
* * *
Some time ago, a terrifying rumor had begun to circulate in the marketplaces of Dengfeng County, Henan Province.
It spread primarily among the local influential figures before eventually becoming an open secret.
The rumor was that the leaders of the Nine Sects had gathered at a certain temple within Shaolin on Mount Song, whose peaks stretched out to shroud the clouds.
It was not a rumor that excited only martial artists.
Rather, it was news that those in the merchant world had to pay close attention to. At least, that was how Ha Geum-seong, the leader of the Stable House Merchant Group, saw it.
'The pillars of the martial world...!'
The supreme masters of the Nine Great Sects holding a secret meeting? This was an event that would bring about an impact equal to, or perhaps even greater than, the gathering of the 17 Unit Commanders of the Desolate Fortress.
It wouldn't be strange if the imperial Embroidered Uniform Guard, the eunuchs of the Eastern Depot, or even an expert from the Ju family were already blending into the dense crowds of Dengfeng County.
Where power and danger coexisted, profit was sure to follow. This was a commercial principle no one could deny.
If he could secure permission to do business in Dengfeng County, where all kinds of martial artists from across the land were currently flocking, or if he could obtain a guarantee of safety for their established lands from the other Nine Sects, their profits would more than double.
Fortunately, Ha Geum-seong was a decent merchant in his own right.
Even after accumulating a massive amount of grain, he was not stingy about unlocking his granaries. Not only Xinye County but also various villages in Henan benefited from his generosity.
As the number of starving people dwindled, rumors spread that the Stable House Merchant Group was distributing food.
Naturally, this attracted Black Way thugs and terrifying martial artists of the heterodox sects, which in turn led the Shaolin Temple to step in and protect his merchant group.
The process of the Stable House Merchant Group gaining Shaolin's backing was as smooth as flowing water.
Their unseen social standing rose, and they established influential connections in the martial world. At this point, Ha Geum-seong was influential enough to linger near the meeting place of the Nine Sects' leadership.
The only problem was that this was his limit.
"Sigh..."
Ha Geum-seong, the middle-aged leader of the Stable House Merchant Group, hesitated just as he was about to kick a stray pebble.
He stopped because he was mindful of the senses of the peerless masters nearby—beings he dared not even make eye contact with.
He had to secure at least one deal. At the very least, he had to protect the merchant group's headquarters located on the old site of the Jeong Family Manor.
How hard had he run around to buy this land, which had become dirt cheap after the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect swept through? He had acquired it by coaxing the second son of the Jeong family, who happened to be a member of the Zhongnan Sect when it fell.
"To rescue your kidnapped nephew, wouldn't you need to hire some rogue mercenaries? What can a penniless Zhongnan disciple do?"
"...Give me more for it."
'But to think the youngest son of that family is now achieving brilliant feats in the Desolate Fortress.'
Ha Geum-seong was a native of Xinye County. The tenant farmers he employed used to cultivate the land of the Jeong Family Manor's master. Naturally, he had passed by the young Jeong Yeon-shin multiple times in the past.
Back then, he had dismissed the boy's blank staring at the swings during the Dano Festival or the kites during the Qixi Festival as nothing more than trivial amusement.
"He was such a frail child."
It was as he muttered this to himself that he heard it.
"He is coming."
A voice that was somewhat familiar.
Had the energy barriers deployed by the sect leaders dispersed? The voice came from the detached building that Ha Geum-seong had been watching from afar. It belonged to the famous Ancient Sword of the Wudang Sect.
This was a man who had glanced past Ha Geum-seong as if he were a mere pebble when they met within Shaolin's grounds. True to his reputation as a lofty sword, he was an immortal who refused to associate with merchants chasing profits.
"His presence has grown even more majestic."
"The Commander of the Demonlight Wing is young, after all."
A gaunt, elderly Buddhist nun and a handsome Brightfolk Taoist stepped out of the detached building.
Even though there was not a breath of wind, the hems of her orange Buddhist robe and his bluish Taoist robe fluttered. They were the Emei Sect Leader, Thunderbolt Guanyin, and the Qingcheng Sect Leader, the Twin-Wall Sword Lord.
These were supreme masters whom Ha Geum-seong had likewise never dared to speak to.
"I heard his appearance has changed? Through Marrow Cleansing and Bone Rebirth."
The voice came from the roof of the detached building.
A woman who had ascended there without a sound stood fluttering her pure white sleeves.
Since her back was turned, only her long, fluttering hair was visible, but Ha Geum-seong guessed she was the Mount Hua Sect Leader.
The plum blossom pattern embroidered in purple on her white sleeves gave it away. It was not much different from the attire of the young Taoist priest who had once treated him bluntly.
'Just who is coming...!'
Ha Geum-seong did not dare take another step forward and could only crane his neck to look.
Fortunately, his question was quickly answered thanks to a Plum Blossom Sword Master of the Mount Hua Sect who ran out toward the path below the detached building—the very same young Taoist priest he had thought of earlier.
"Jeong Yeon-shin! Seriously, I've been waiting forever!"
His voice was clear and resonant, befitting a disciple of a prestigious sect. Soon, beyond the boundary of the path, long black hair and a robe bathed in the light of the setting sun came into view.
Ha Geum-seong's eyes widened, and the young Taoist's voice was laced with shock.
"Hey, what's with those clothes...!"
Ha Geum-seong stopped listening and immediately returned to the guest room where he had been staying.
Sitting down, he laid out the four treasures of the study and, in a single, swift stroke, wrote out a document transferring the land to Yeon-shin of the Henan Jeong family.
It did not take long.