Chapter 423: Martial Lineage (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 423: Martial Lineage (4)
There is a saying: "All martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin."
This meant that if one traced back the origins of the countless martial sects and lineages branching out today, they would inevitably arrive at the rugged slopes of Mount Song. Not even the Heterodox Sects could deny this truth.
Mount Song, the Central Peak.
The birthplace of the Shaolin Temple.
It was also the very mountain the youngest son of Henan's Jeong Family Manor had once yearned to climb.
He had wanted to pray for the repose of his mother's soul. Back then, Jeong Yeon-shin had regarded the eminent monks of Shaolin as living Buddhas.
'Though Father went alone.'
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly walked up the path stretching before him. With every faint footprint he left in the dirt, emotions from his childhood welled up.
His father, Jeong Pan-ak, had truly cherished his mother, Ma Yeon-sang. He once said that the very person who brought about her tragedy should not be the one praying for her soul. It was an undeniable truth.
Thus, this was Jeong Yeon-shin's first time ever setting foot on Mount Song.
Sshhh—
The forest exhaled a damp breath.
The moisture carried by the summer breeze dyed the grass a vibrant, deepening green, while the leaves of the arborvitae trees swayed gently in the sunlight. Around him, vast cliffs of pale yellow clay stretched out in a magnificent display.
But none of that mattered right now.
The figures entering Jeong Yeon-shin's field of vision were far more vivid than the scenery of Mount Song. Their sheer presence and aura demanded his absolute attention. Not a single one of them possessed a reputation lesser than the Commander of the Demonlight Wing of the Desolate Fortress.
"It seems the message was delivered properly. Thank you for arriving on time."
A boy clad in a pure white robe walked down through the air, his hands clasped behind his back. The hem of his robe, embroidered with pine patterns, fluttered gently like drifting clouds.
The highest sword of the Great Wudang Sect.
Jeong Yeon-shin's expression clouded over. His toes tingled as a sudden, violent urge surged within him. He felt an intense need to kick something just to relieve the suffocating tension.
"I greet you, Perfected One."
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly clasped his hands. There was an unprecedented politeness in his fist-salute—a gesture meant to ensure he would still have a bed to sleep in tomorrow. "I was discourteous the last time we met. I deeply apologize."
"It was this poor Taoist who was rude, tactlessly intruding upon the banquet of the Divine Sword Corps."
The Wudang Ancient Sword waved his hand dismissively. Jeong Yeon-shin's complexion brightened slightly.
The old man with the broadest mind under the heavens was standing right here.
'He is practically Taishang Laojun.'
Just as he was feeling a profound sense of inner relief, the Ancient Sword spoke again.
"More importantly..."
The old Taoist, who possessed the appearance of a young boy, looked Jeong Yeon-shin up and down from his slightly shorter stature. Soon, a satisfied smile graced the Ancient Sword's lips.
"Congratulations. It seems my petition to Beijing was worthwhile. The Emperor is particularly attentive to our sect."
"I heard from the Crown Prince. I can only offer my deepest gratitude..."
"Primordial Pacification Mantra. It is we who should be grateful."
The Ancient Sword dismissed Jeong Yeon-shin's words as he chanted his Taoist mantra. Whatever that meant, it didn't matter much to Jeong Yeon-shin. At least, not right now.
"Abbess, Perfected One."
Jeong Yeon-shin clasped his hands again toward the figures visible over the Ancient Sword's shoulder. It was a gathering that absolutely demanded such courtesy.
The undisputed rulers of the Sichuan region, the Sect Leaders of Emei and Qingcheng, were looking at him. An elderly Buddhist nun and a Brightfolk Taoist.
"You have taken yet another step forward from the top of a hundred-foot pole."
Abbess Baekyak wore a gentle smile, just as she had when they first met, while the Brightfolk Taoist standing beside her wore a strange expression.
"Purple..." the Qingcheng Sect Leader muttered with an unreadable expression.
Perfected Clear Water, the Twin-Wall Sword Lord. He was a grandmaster said to be rebuilding the Qingcheng Sect at an astonishing speed after they had lost their former sect leader to the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect. It was said that his capabilities far surpassed those of a mere gentleman, earning him the title of a giant in the martial world.
And what of Thunderbolt Guanyin Abbess Baekyak?
Behind that smile lay decades of blood and experience. She was the figure who had sustained the Sichuan martial world for decades against the sporadic offensives of the fully intact Golden Wing Sect, the Tenth Sect, the Pure Demon Alliance, and the branches of the Blood Flame Cult. The name of the Guanyin Bodhisattva in her title reflected both her overwhelming martial prowess and her profound wisdom.
"It was the same when we drank together last time. Even when your mind is perfectly clear, your expression remains solitary and arrogant. You resemble the Hegemon Hero, yet at the same time, you do not," the boy Taoist, Perfected Ancient Sword, said as he looked up at him.
Jeong Yeon-shin had been mentally reviewing the profiles of those gathered here. The weight that the Ancient Sword carried was by no means inferior to that of Thunderbolt Guanyin.
'Wudang's Taishang Laojun...'
For whatever reason, he had fully stood in for the Wudang Sect Leader, who had been in secluded meditation for over a decade. He was the living incarnation of the Wudang Sect's Taiji martial lineage, represented by the Wisdom Sword, the Ten Stages of Brocade, and the Wudang Cloud-Ladder Step.
Even facing him from this close, Jeong Yeon-shin could not easily estimate his chances of victory.
"Hey, do you not see me?" A boy Taoist of the Mount Hua Sect, who was far from being a gentleman, approached him. It was Yu-hyeon.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer. It was said that a true friend was someone who was always welcome and precious, yet simultaneously trivial. To him, at this moment, reuniting with the absolute master of the Mount Hua Sect—who currently stood pressing down on Yu-hyeon's head—was far more important.
"Sect Leader." Jeong Yeon-shin bowed his head and clasped his hands.
The woman, who wore a worn sword at the waist of her Taoist robe, widened her eyes. Perhaps her subconscious had moved her energy; in an instant, the transcendent essence of the Living Sword flowed from her very steps.
The withered grass crushed beneath her snow-white socks instantly regained its vibrant green color.
Saint Flower Sword God Yul-ha.
Having once been carried down a snowy mountain on Jeong Yeon-shin's back after her defeat by the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect, she now looked up at him from a lower height. Though their martial prowess was a different story, their physical heights had clearly reversed.
"You... are Flash Art?" Lady Yul-ha's voice trailed upward in surprise. Perhaps because she was not of the Brightfolk, her eyes, which glowed with a faint purple light, carefully scanned Jeong Yeon-shin's face.
She seemed unable to find his former features in his face.
No, Jeong Yeon-shin thought. It was likely because of his limbs. A peerless expert assessed an opponent through their combat interval, not their facial features.
"You have grown well. In such a short time." Lady Yul-ha expressed her admiration without reservation. She was indeed a figure said to be as brilliant and free-spirited as scattering plum blossom petals. She was someone who had shamelessly provoked even the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect. Her words were surely no empty praise.
Suppressing a small sense of satisfaction, Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his hands. Then, he slowly spoke.
"The medicine you sent through the Plum Blossom Swordsman Yu-hyeon was of great use. I should have met you in person to express my gratitude, but I am glad we could reunite like this."
"It is largely thanks to the martial attainment you have accumulated, but it seems what I gave you was also put to excellent use. I did not expect to feast my eyes on such a sight here."
"...?"
"In any case, there was something to be taken care of before the Mount Hua Agreement. Since you are here, the Desolate Fortress has filled its seat."
Lady Yul-ha had once experienced his battle with her entire body while being carried on his back. It had happened within the net of heaven and earth on the snowy mountain. Though she might raise her eyebrows at Jeong Yeon-shin shedding his mortal coil at this moment, she did not seem particularly surprised that he wore a purple robe.
As the Mount Hua Sect Leader, she was a formidable competitor in the Mount Hua Agreement.
While wondering what she meant by "something to be taken care of," Jeong Yeon-shin silently observed Lady Yul-ha for a brief moment.
'I can't read her.'
It was exactly the same as when he had first met her as a Black Rank. A perfect return to simplicity. Nothing could be felt from her. Only the mental image of pale pink plum blossom petals faintly drifted through his mind.
As he sharpened his senses a bit more, a vision flashed through his mind: heaven and earth meeting, divided only by the straight line of the setting sun.
Then, suddenly, their eyes met.
Soon, Lady Yul-ha's eyes curved gently into a smile.
"The sword of your mind is too deep. How far do you intend to enter?"
Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer. He merely lowered his eyelids slightly with a sly expression, acting like a swordsman completely immersed in his own mental space.
"...Was I being too sensitive? At any rate, follow me."
Tilting her head slightly, Lady Yul-ha turned around. The soft rustling of her trousers brushing against each other blurred his sense of reality. That, along with the face of Perfected Ancient Sword, who was smiling craftily at Jeong Yeon-shin beside her, made one thing perfectly clear.
On this peak, the only easy target was the youngest Plum Blossom Swordsman, Yu-hyeon.
'This place...'
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly realized that he was standing right in the midst of the very legends he had admired since childhood.
The absolute peak of the Jianghu. He had to engage in a battle of wills with the transcendent beings who stood at the summit of the vast and endlessly high martial world.
Abbess Baekyak of Emei and Perfected Clear Water of Qingcheng.
Perfected Ancient Sword of Wudang and Lady Yul-ha of Mount Hua.
There was also the Sword Empress, whom he had briefly met earlier, and the Shaolin Abbot, whose current whereabouts remained unknown.
With the exception of Perfected Clear Water, these were individuals who had reigned at the pinnacle of the Jianghu for decades—some for over a century. The reputation and standing they had built up over the years brooked no comparison with any other martial artist. Back when Jeong Yeon-shin was merely the insignificant youngest son of the Jeong Family Manor, they were already long-established absolute masters.
The seventeen-year-old youth suddenly felt a massive sense of incongruity. I am... here...?
'This is a place where the Commander should be standing.'
He didn't care about the various sects currently flocking to Dengfeng County to participate in the Mount Hua Agreement. Even the Peng Clan, one of the Eight Great Families, was entirely absent from Jeong Yeon-shin's mind right now.
"Truly arrogant. Even after reaching this place, are you still leisurely savoring the air of Mount Song?" Perfected Clear Water said, staring at him.
Beside him, the wrinkled throat of Abbess Baekyak twitched slightly as she chuckled softly.
"It should be called spirit. A peerless expert of that age must possess a youthful vigor that we lack, alongside his martial prowess."
"The Abbess appears to be correct."
"Follow us slowly. Since this is a place to discuss the fate of the world in our own way, organize your thoughts well," the Ancient Sword added, looking at Jeong Yeon-shin.
Step.
The four peerless experts turned and began to climb the path.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been staring blankly at their retreating backs for a moment, turned his head when the Plum Blossom Swordsman Yu-hyeon tapped him on the shoulder.
"Are you alright?"
"About what?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked back in an intentionally indifferent tone.
However, Yu-hyeon's eyes were sharper than the eye techniques of most Brightfolk.
"Your aura is incredibly sharp. You look like a blade tempered in the Eight Hot Hells."
"What?"
"That robe doesn't look like some general's battle cloak worn just for show. You must feel a sense of responsibility in your own way. Or is it because you haven't stopped fighting all this time? Every rumor with your name in it practically reeks of blood. It's a miracle you're still in one piece."
"It was a bit exhausting."
"I've never seen our master so tense before," Yu-hyeon whispered cautiously.
Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head inwardly. He didn't know what was on the minds of the various sect leaders, but he was surely the most tense person here.
—The sword of your mind is too deep. How far do you intend to enter?
The words Lady Yul-ha had spoken. It was something she could not have said without feeling Jeong Yeon-shin's sense of Qi with her entire body.
"You measured the combat interval in your mental space earlier, right? Why not go all the way? Our master is only called 'Lady' on the outside; back at the main sect, she's practically a tyrant..."
Yu-hyeon's head suddenly dropped forward with a dull thud. Looking up slightly, Jeong Yeon-shin saw the back of Lady Yul-ha, who was nonchalantly dusting off her hand. It was the Air-Hitting Palm.
He had casually blurted out a request to punish his own master. He fully deserved the blow.
But...
It was more than enough to bring a smile to Jeong Yeon-shin, whose nerves had been on edge due to the sheer scale of power that would shift as a result of the Mount Hua Agreement.
Yu-hyeon was a good friend. Perhaps the only true friend in his life...
"Be good to your master," Jeong Yeon-shin said, suddenly thinking of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress. A faint smile played on his lips.
As if his master's Air-Hitting Palm had been exceptionally painful, Yu-hyeon was busy rubbing the back of his head. Only when Jeong Yeon-shin was about to take a step did he casually speak up.
"I can't follow you. It's a solemn gathering."
"Ma Se-in of the Desolate Ma Clan is our age. If you're lonely, go find him."
"Ah, Gentleman Ma? Of course I know him. He's famous in Dengfeng County. He's always getting beaten up by the Young Divine Monk."
"Gentleman Ma...?"
For a split second, Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes wavered. Yu-hyeon nodded nonchalantly and gestured forward.
"Go on, hurry. Don't be surprised when you see the Abbot. Good luck."
Yu-hyeon's urging was correct. The elders of the Buddhist and Taoist sects were waiting for him. In a gathering of such peerless experts, it was highly unlikely they would only discuss martial duels. As the leaders of the great sects, they would have a mountain of matters to discuss.
Jeong Yeon-shin had to leave his waving friend behind and move forward. Toward the temple built upon a secluded peak of Mount Song.
Step.
Sunlight shattered at the hem of his trousers. Along with those fragments, shades of purple, orange, and occasional glints of golden light blended together. They were colors that calmly settled Jeong Yeon-shin's mind.
‘I will conquer the Mount Hua Agreement.’
It was the day the newly crowned Purple Rank, the highest-ranking figure of the Desolate Fortress, entered the meeting place of the absolute masters of the Nine Great Sects.