Chapter 427: Grandmaster
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 427: Grandmaster
Jeong Yeon-shin snapped back to his senses. He was in the banquet hall, surrounded by prestigious martial artists of the Orthodox factions.
Ugh.
Only now did the pain in his hand register, burning fiercely. The flesh of the palm gripping his sword was torn open.
Drip. Drip.
Blood fell in steady droplets. Beneath the tip of the Divine Sword: Lingering Thunder, the dirt floor stained dark red, spot by spot.
In the heavy silence, it was the only sound.
Yeon-shin lowered his gaze.
Every experience was precious.
He instinctively began to review the clash they had just shared. The breathing of a peerless master was incredibly long and sustained. Though Yeon-shin had only exchanged a single breath with the Peng Family Head, they had traded nearly twenty forms in that instant.
And he had done it all while facing the unfamiliar Unified Martial Transcendence head-on.
Forest Blade God-Sealing Strike…
It had been a tidal wave of saber strikes. To tear through the surging shockwaves, Yeon-shin had been forced to unleash every form of the Infinite Flower of Time Hand and the Lightning-Flash Sword Ridge Style.
The recoil was immense. The meridians from his palm to his elbow were in tatters—an internal injury to his Hand Taiyin Lung Meridian. Right now, it felt as if a bolt of lightning was coursing through his arm.
Yeon-shin’s martial arts were far from the principle of Softness Overcomes Hardness.
He had crushed the life-saving herb of one of the Eight Family Heads with Lingering Thunder, and in return, the Peng Family Head’s entire left side had been blown away.
He was stronger than the Ghost-Howling Hegemon.
In terms of sheer ferocity, Peng Yeo-ran's saber techniques fell far short of her father’s. It was likely because she had spent her time secluded within the formation of the peerless Flood Dragon.
Yeon-shin was reminded once again of the vital importance of real combat.
He had gained the equivalent of several decades’ worth of experience. This was an invaluable gain.
The outcome of this duel was clear.
The martial arts of the Nine Sect Leaders were unfathomably deep. A swift, decisive battle like this one would likely not work against them. He needed to use this opportunity to announce that the Desolate Fortress was still a force to be reckoned with.
Just then, a somewhat dazed voice cut through the silence.
“…Unbelievable.”
Rustle.
A woman approached the corpse of the Peng Family Head. With eyes as sharp as blades and hair braided on both sides, she was the Blade Marquis of the Peng Family, known by the moniker “The Night of the Peng Clan.”
With every step she took, her bones popped and cracked.
A divine ultimate technique. The pinnacle of esoteric arts.
Her previously petite frame began to transform. Her limbs lengthened rapidly, causing the hems of her pants to ride up to her calves. Her meticulously braided black hair unraveled, cascading down her back.
It was exactly as the rumors described. The Indian Yoga Divine Art seemed capable of reshaping one’s bones and muscles at will, with no significant backlash. It was likely due to the unique spirituality of the art—a divine technique originating from the homeland of Zen Master Bodhidharma.
Thud.
Having grown in height until she seemed like another person entirely, the Blade Marquis of the Peng Family stopped right before Yeon-shin.
“To think he would die like this,” she muttered, staring down at the half-shattered body of the Peng Family Head.
“Take care of the body,” Yeon-shin said indifferently.
Martial artists from all over the world were watching. He had to maintain the dignity of a Purple Rank.
The Blade Marquis of the Peng Family raised her head.
“…I knew you were strong, but you are an absurd, unnatural monster.”
Yeon-shin did not reply. Although she was set to inherit the position of Peng Family Head, the current Blade Marquis was not of a status to speak to a Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress as an equal—especially not with ten thousand eyes watching.
Sheath.
The pale blade of Lingering Thunder slid back into its scabbard. Simultaneously, the faint halo of light enveloping Yeon-shin’s body vanished. He had withdrawn both his weapon and his Body Protection Qi.
Only then did the crowd dare to breathe again.
“Gasp!”
“How could the Great Severing Tyrant Blade fall just like that…? No, isn't that Yeon-shin of the Jeong Clan, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing?!”
“Send… send an urgent message!”
“A new Purple Rank! A new Purple Rank has emerged from the Desolate Fortress!”
A heavy wave of shock swept through the crowd, a vortex of emotion so palpable it made the skin prickle. The venue descended into chaos. While some sat dazed, others scrambled to leave.
Only Yeon-shin remained calm.
Resting a hand on the hilt of his sword, he thought of the Tang Clan siblings. Thanks to the starlight-woven clothes they had made for him, his injuries were limited to his right arm.
It was an incredibly cheap price to pay.
He had swiftly slain the Peng Family Head before the entire martial world. As a newly appointed Purple Rank, he had surely left a strong impression and greatly upheld the honor of the Desolate Fortress.
But above all…
“In a way, a mere White-Ranked warrior sent one of the Eight Family Heads to the Sanzu River. After all, she was the one who provoked the Purple Rank’s wrath.”
The Blade Marquis of the Peng Family glanced at Shin So-bin in the distance as she cradled the Peng Family Head’s body.
Yeon-shin did not deny it. In truth, the prestige of a Purple Rank and the reputation of the Desolate Fortress were secondary. When the Peng Family Head held Shin So-bin’s life in his hands, none of those things had been on his mind.
My successor…
Ever since the martial artists of the Flash Art lineage at the main fortress had cupped their hands to him in unison, a strange, obsessive sense of relief had taken root in his heart. It was the thought that even if he were to die young, there would be those who remembered him, and a trace of him would remain in the world.
There was a term, uibaljeonin—the successor of one’s mantle. Originally, it referred to a Buddhist monk who inherited his master’s robe and alms bowl. In the martial world, it meant a disciple who inherited one’s true ultimate techniques. To Yeon-shin, Shin So-bin was that very person.
Even though the Desolate Fortress forbade private master-disciple relationships, she proudly called herself the chief disciple of the Commander of the Demonlight Wing and always acted accordingly.
Just like right now.
“Hurry up and step in. She keeps talking to the Commander. It’s beneath his dignity.”
Shin So-bin nudged Lazy Flame Dragon in the back.
Lazy Flame Dragon, who had been standing with his mouth agape, having forgotten to chew his poppy since the duel ended, stepped forward as if yielding to her.
“Peng… Ya? Is your name Peng Ya?” Lazy Flame Dragon stammered in a deliberately sluggish tone.
It was a clear provocation, yet even as he stood with his weight shifted casually to one leg, the dignity of the Hwangbo Clan’s Eldest Son shone through.
“How long are you going to hold your father? Elder Peng has cleared all his karmic debts through this life-and-death duel. Don’t disgrace him further. Bury him in a good place. My deepest condolences.”
“The scoundrel of the Hwangbo Clan.” The corners of the Blade Marquis’s mouth twisted. “I heard you dominated the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering while I was traveling to and from the Forbidden City… I suppose that was just the glory of your greenhorn days? To think you’d dare stand before me without even having achieved the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak.”
“We both once eyed the seat of Clan Head, didn’t we? You’re being far too sharp. It’s unseemly in front of our Commander,” Lazy Flame Dragon said, scratching the back of his head. Not a single tremor could be seen in his hooded eyes. He was certainly sly in a way Yeon-shin could never be.
Yet the Blade Marquis’s momentum remained unbroken. The sharp aura radiating from her did not waver, even with Yeon-shin, who had half-turned away, standing right there. Though she claimed to only see her father as the Clan Head, deep down, she couldn’t truly feel that way. She was just like Yeon-shin, who had filled the emptiness of his childhood with his martial lineage.
The Blade Marquis slowly parted her lips. “I have no desire to bicker with a poppy addict. Wasn’t the Mount Hua Agreement originally a four-on-four duel? The Commander of the Demonlight Wing is right. Our clan has only suffered a single defeat. It doesn’t mean the Desolate Fortress has won.”
“And?”
“Step aside. I will return after securing a promise for the next duel. Lazy Flame Dragon… you lack the standing to convey the will of a Purple Rank.” She muttered, “A bastard who will die in three years at most.”
Hummm—
A low vibration emanated from Yeon-shin’s waist. The moment he heard those grating words, the Fan Dragon Lotus Art stirred on its own. To harm the Blade Marquis here in his capacity as a Purple Rank would ruin the Mount Hua Agreement. Yet, the gentleman he knew himself to be would never bend when faced with such a clash of values.
Just as the Divine Sword: Lingering Thunder was about to fly from its scabbard through the principles of Sword Control—
“Young Master Peng, say no more.”
A handsome young man in a pitch-black robe blocked the Blade Marquis’s path. His long hair was loose but neat, and his posture was perfectly upright. It was the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin.
“It would be wise to restrain yourself. The duel was an official match, and a Purple Rank of our fortress is still present.”
“The White Qilin…?”
“Indeed. If you commit any further insolence, Young Master, I shall make my move. At that point, of course, I will not have the luxury of minding your late father’s remains.”
His voice was clear and resonant, cooling the heated atmosphere.
“Hmm…?”
Yeon-shin glanced at the poppy addict, who was letting out a dazed exclamation. Was he that shocked by Namgung Hwa-shin’s promotion to Black Rank? It was a rare sight. Yeon-shin figured he should commit the image of the useless Lazy Flame Dragon to memory.
“Oh?” One corner of the Blade Marquis’s mouth curled upward. “So you are the Desolate Fortress’s next card. What a pity. The only true monster among you is the Lotus Nezha. I do not fear the rest.”
“Your thoughts do not matter to us, Young Master. It would be wise not to make reckless assumptions about our fortress’s roster.”
“No matter what you say, not everyone who learns the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic becomes as profound as Bodhidharma. Our clan will put the Flash Art lineage to the test.”
Her meaning was clear. Many martial arts flashed briefly in the world, but the divine art lineages engraved into the long history of the martial world were few. Among them, only a fraction gained enough renown to be called one of the Nine Sects, Eight Families, or Thirteen Heavens.
The question the Mount Hua Agreement posed to Yeon-shin was simple: Could the Flash Art lineage, a mayfly in the grand history of martial arts, stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them?
“Let us do this,” the Blade Marquis said with a smile. “We shall hold all remaining duels right here in three days. The Desolate Fortress must prepare a White Rank, a Blue Rank, and a Black Rank from the Flash Art lineage.”
“…”
Namgung Hwa-shin glanced back. Only after seeing Yeon-shin give a subtle nod did he assent.
Thud.
Turning on her heel, the Blade Marquis of the Peng Family walked out of the venue. On the dirt floor, a damp footprint was left with every step she took. A thick, cold sweat had pooled inside her silk shoes.
Yet no one mocked her. To have been exposed to Yeon-shin’s murderous intent and still speak of the Peng Clan’s certain victory was an immense display of spirit.
But that was only for a moment.
The gazes of the audience, every eye holding a sharp, intense light, locked onto the purple robe Yeon-shin now wore. They did not look away for a very long time.
* * *
Dengfeng County was a place that had flourished into a grand city under the shadow of Shaolin. With secure public order and an abundance of grain, it was a miniature martial world in its own right. Its residents were desensitized to most rumors, and it was rare for the entire city to be thrown into an uproar.
But now was different. A massive commotion had erupted.
The Lotus Nezha of the Flash Art had ascended to the Purple Rank.
The Great Severing Tyrant Blade, Peng Mun-geuk, had been slain in a brief clash.
Chaos had erupted. At a time when countless heroes of the Orthodox factions were gathering, the Peng Family Head had died in a crushing defeat.
“The Mount Hua Agreement has begun!”
“Send an urgent message! Wash your hands of the Peng Clan! We must invest our funds in Huguang!”
Voices echoed from all corners of the vast Green Jade Sword Manor. The Mount Hua Agreement, originally a pact between the Desolate Fortress and the Nine Sects, was returning to its starting point. If the Flash Art lineage defeated the Peng Clan, it was inevitable.
Rustle.
Sitting in a temporary office, Yeon-shin opened a letter, a report densely packed with neat brushstrokes.
“I held a competition within our lineage. The report you are reading is the result,” said Namgung Hwa-shin, standing across the desk.
It was a meeting between a newly appointed Black Rank and a newly appointed Purple Rank.
The document Namgung Hwa-shin had prepared was extremely detailed, incomparable to the rough-and-ready methods of Lazy Flame Dragon. Although he still hadn’t asked Yeon-shin to teach him the Heavenly Sword and Qilin's Judgment, he pursued absolute perfection in his duties, just as he had during the Hanzhong Martial World Alliance.
“It is exactly as written. First, Sam-bok, a Blue-ranked warrior of the Netherflow Unit, has a deep mastery of the Radiant Wing Step but shows weakness in close-quarters combat. Wi Ye-ryeong, the Moon-Shooting Bow Ghost of the Demonlight Wing, has high mastery of movement techniques, making her capable of keeping the Peng Clan's Five Tigers Severing Door Saber at bay while landing effective strikes with her arrows. Meanwhile, Hwang Cheong of the Immortal Wood Spirit is a genius who has mastered the Radiant Brilliance Sword Style to the Stage of Great Completion, but his gentle nature makes him unsuitable to face the currently venomous Peng Clan experts. However, if the Commander of the Demonlight Wing personally commends him, his morale could soar, allowing him to perform beyond his current abilities.”
Namgung Hwa-shin’s explanations flowed endlessly, covering personalities, martial arts, strengths, weaknesses, and the most suitable candidates for the battle against the Peng Clan. It wasn’t just about one or two people. His report was flawless.
Even after reuniting with the Demonlight First Team, Yeon-shin couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation. It felt as though he had become the owner of a pasture filled with macaques.
“…I should see them for myself.”
“As you might have sensed, I have already gathered them. However…” Namgung Hwa-shin trailed off.
“Hmm?”
“…Since the majority have never received direct instruction from you, there is a lack of legitimacy. I wonder if it is truly appropriate for them to represent us in the Mount Hua Agreement…”
Yeon-shin stood up without a word.
He intended to teach at least a single move to those who claimed his martial lineage.
He had been reborn as a gentleman of the Purple Rank from the moment he let the Blade Marquis leave unharmed after her reckless words. Deep down, he was confident he had a knack for teaching.
Yes, from a certain point, it was already…
For some time now, the Demonlight Wing had learned the Vast Art Formula solely from books. Yeon-shin had enabled them to approach the Stage of Great Completion through written words alone.
What would happen if he taught them in person?
Suddenly, the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The Peng Clan was no longer the issue. He was thinking of the Nine Sects.
“Let’s go,” Yeon-shin said.