Chapter 429: Grandmaster (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 429: Grandmaster (3)
The death of the Peng Clan Leader had been an accident. It was a sudden duel to the death, fought without preparation. There had been no room for formalities.
The official martial tournament of the Mount Hua Agreement, however, was entirely different.
It commenced exactly at the appointed hour. Furthermore, it was incredibly grand, funded by the immensely wealthy lay disciples of the Nine Sects.
At the very center of the Green Jade Sword Manor lay a vast martial arena.
It was a raised platform of yellowish-red brick, shaved so smooth by master swordsmen that it gleamed like polished marble.
Surrounding it in a massive ring were five or six tiers of viewing platforms and canopies. Beyond them, the pure white walls enclosing the manor reflected the brilliant sunlight.
Every inch of available space bustled with crowds.
It was a literal sea of humanity. Whispers circulated that this was the largest martial arts tournament in the last fifty years.
"The Wudang Long Staff...!"
"It's the Shaolin Eighteen Arhats!"
"Aren't those monks the Four Great Vajras...? To think I would live to see their six ordination scars in my lifetime..."
"Over there, the swordsmen of Diancang!"
"The Six Kings Martial Lineage! The Six Kings Martial Lineage is here too!"
Excitement buzzed through the crowd, palpable in their every gesture.
Renowned figures from all over the Orthodox martial world had gathered. Even those who had originally entered the manor as participants were now gawking like mere spectators.
Their numbers easily reached into the hundreds. Some stole glances at Jeong Yeon-shin, who sat in the spectator seats opposite the arena, whispering among themselves.
The looks directed at the newly appointed Purple Rank were a mix of fear, doubt, and awe.
It was, quite literally, a human tide.
In a venue packed with illustrious martial artists, maintaining order should have been impossible. Yet, the moment a young Taoist priest in fluttering white robes took his seat at the head of the platform, a heavy silence fell over the crowd.
The sheer presence of the Wudang Ancient Sword gently suppressed the entire Orthodox martial world.
"Quiet, everyone," the Ancient Sword said.
He squinted at Jeong Yeon-shin, who sat to his right, giving him a knowing look like an old man. It was likely due to what had happened to the Peng Clan Leader.
But that was all. The Wudang Ancient Sword was from the same generation as the Hegemon Hero—a Martial God who had weathered the chaotic Jianghu for decades.
He did not blame the new Purple Rank. Instead, he simply turned his gaze to the person sitting on his left, who was acting as the head of the Peng Clan.
"Is the Peng Clan ready?"
"Yes."
The Blade Marquis of the Peng Family lightly nodded.
Her limbs had grown as long as Jeong Yeon-shin's, a striking display of the miraculous efficacy of the Indian Yoga Divine Art.
Sitting among the illustrious figures of the Jianghu, she casually crossed her elongated legs, yet her posture didn't seem awkward in the slightest.
No one dared criticize the Blade Marquis's conduct. The martial artists seated around her merely showed slight discomfort.
As the future Peng Clan Leader, she had lost her father—even if it had been a legitimate duel to the death. This tragic circumstance was enough to turn the spectator seats beneath the canopy into the Peng Clan's private courtyard.
This was, after all, a place where noble figures settled their grievances.
"I am not too late, I see."
The voice came from a tier above, just behind Jeong Yeon-shin.
A rich yet clear fragrance wafted over, accompanied by the soft rustle of settling robes.
It was the scent of plum blossoms originating from the true qi of a divine art, paired with a presence so faint it could only belong to an immortal's Body Protection Scripture. He didn't even need to look back to know who it was.
"Excellent. Will the Mount Hua Sect Leader also join us as a witness?"
"Yes, gladly."
Perhaps because it was a public setting, their exchange carried a level of formality absent in private.
Jeong Yeon-shin pushed the conversation between the Ancient Sword and Lady Yul-ha to the back of his mind. The fact that the supreme masters of the Jianghu had gathered to watch a clash of martial lineages was only a secondary concern to him.
His somewhat tense gaze drifted to the young martial artist who had just stepped onto the arena. It was Ma Ung, a White-Ranked Warrior from the Desolate Ma Clan.
He was a rising star who had once sided with Ma Se-in's mother. However, the moment he saw the rejuvenated Hegemon Hero, he had admitted his error and attempted to destroy his own dantian.
Jeong Yeon-shin had stopped him, having heard that Ma Ung was Ma Se-in's bodyguard and acted like an older brother to him. At the time, Jeong Yeon-shin had thought of his own deceased eldest brother and his second brother, Jeong Jung-san.
He hadn't wanted to rob Ma Se-in of the familial warmth he himself had never truly known.
I heard he learned the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
It was said that a painting of the Magpie Bridge, formed by crows and magpies, now hung on the wall of Ma Ung's quarters, alongside a single kite adorned with a hawk pattern. It was the mnemonic of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art—a literal depiction of the passage where Jeong Yeon-shin expressed his envy of his brothers flying kites during the Qixi Festival. It was much like the rumors of Wudang disciples keeping the Taiji symbol close at all times.
Setting aside the fact that Jeong Yeon-shin's bed had ended up broken the night Ma Se-in told him about this, Ma Ung was a warrior who had faithfully mastered his own simplified version of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
But his opponent was formidable.
"I am Peng Jun. Perhaps because I have trained in my family's secret Five Tigers Severing Door Saber, my fellow martial artists in the Jianghu have bestowed upon me the moniker of the Great Tiger Saber."
A man clad in yellow martial robes with a saber at his waist clasped his hands in greeting toward Ma Ung. His gesture of raising both hands to his chest was disciplined, but it carried no respect.
Instead, raw hostility seeped through his flawless, noble etiquette.
He was said to be a fairly renowned rising star.
He possessed a robust build and a face that looked three or four years older than Ma Ung's.
Already, he was radiating an intangible wave of energy from his entire body, his internal power faintly rippling across the arena floor.
"Ma Ung. I have learned a simplified version of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art."
Ma Ung barely bothered to clasp his hands before instantly drawing the sword at his waist. That single movement was clean and picture-perfect.
Watching Ma Ung from the platform, Jeong Yeon-shin clicked his tongue inwardly. If not for himself and Ma Se-in, the external etiquette of their clan practically had no future.
Well, when the elders behave like raging waterfalls, what can you expect...
He thought of the Hegemon Hero Ma Yeon-jeok and the Naraka Reaper Ma Jin.
Beside him, the Ancient Sword spoke.
"The Desolate Fortress and the Peng Clan... Since the Purple-ranked Commander of the Demonlight Wing emerged victorious against the late Peng Clan Leader, today's duel shall consist of three matches. The two on the arena may begin."
His voice reverberated far and wide, carrying an immense amount of internal energy. It was incomparable to the late Peng Clan Leader's mastery of qi.
Jeong Yeon-shin recognized that the Perfected Ancient Sword's internal energy mastery was clearly superior to his own, but at this moment, his concern was directed at Ma Ung standing below the platform. The Peng Clan's little pebble—whom he thought of as a "little cat saber"—was radiating pure killing intent.
Jeong Yeon-shin's brow furrowed.
Such unrefined energy... Did they feed him a spirit medicine?
The accumulated qi of this Peng Clan bastard was completely overwhelming Ma Ung.
*
The match was decided in an instant.
It was Peng Jun's victory. He had overwhelmed the Flash Art lineage—which had recently made a name for itself through swift, decisive battles—with even faster saber moves.
Ma Ung was helplessly pushed back by the shadow of the Five Tigers Severing Door Saber Technique before tumbling off the arena.
That, in itself, was a stroke of immense luck.
Peng Jun had fought with the intent to kill. Though he hadn't dared to look up even once at the true culprit, Jeong Yeon-shin, he had driven Ma Ung back as if unleashing all his pent-up rage over losing his clan leader onto his opponent.
His saber qi was incredibly fierce. Had the Blade Marquis of the Peng Family, Peng Ya, not flicked her finger in time, he might have leapt off the arena to plunge his blade into Ma Ung.
He probably intended to excuse it as competitive fervor afterward, but...
Stealing a glance at Jeong Yeon-shin, Peng Ya shook her head inwardly. She couldn't allow the clan's saber guests to run wild as they pleased.
A bloodbath had nearly erupted after the Net of Heaven and Earth incident against the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, but the Nine Sects had intervened to arrange this gathering. She already knew the truth.
We only need to win. There is no need to provoke him further.
Peng Ya gestured toward the Peng Clan faction occupying one side of the training ground. It was a signal to prepare a saber guest capable of matching a Blue Rank of the Desolate Fortress.
Meanwhile, Peng Jun and Ma Ung clasped their hands toward the high-ranking spectator seats where she, the Ancient Sword, Jeong Yeon-shin, and Lady Yul-ha sat, before stepping down from the arena. Ma Ung's face was stained with bitter mortification.
"I declare one victory for the Peng Clan!"
The youthful voice of the Ancient Sword rang out. The Green Jade Sword Manor was instantly filled with cheers. Regardless of the grievances between the two great factions, the crowd was thrilled to broaden their horizons by witnessing the skills of these promising rising stars.
This is it.
Peng Ya clenched her long fingers.
The balance between the Desolate Fortress and the Peng Clan had been restored. The Purple-ranked monster slaying the clan leader was no different from their own rising star defeating a White Rank. This was the essence of the Mount Hua Agreement's martial tournament.
The crowd's reaction was highly favorable.
"The history accumulated by a prestigious clan always bears fruit in the hands of its rising stars. Though the Flash Art lineage is famous for its swift techniques, the fierce strength of the Five Tigers Severing Door Saber is well-renowned even within the imperial court."
"That's a bit misleading. Isn't Ma Ung also a rising star of the Desolate Ma Clan? Even if he is from a collateral branch..."
"The Desolate Fortress itself isn't the issue. Individually speaking, the Commander of the Demonlight Wing, along with the Heaven-Smiling Invincible, will likely contend for the title of the world's greatest in the next generation. This duel simply... revealed the limitations of a newly born martial lineage."
"As expected of the Five Tigers Severing Door Saber...!"
The Peng Clan was a noble family of Beizhili.
Even if their clan leader had died, their influence would not simply vanish.
If they displayed strength worthy of their prestige, the heroes of the Jianghu would naturally applaud them.
This was exactly what Peng Ya was aiming for: minimizing the backlash from the trouble the deceased clan leader had caused. Today, she would reassert the Peng Clan's presence.
She intended to remind everyone that the Peng Clan had been a pillar of the martial world for centuries, forcing the Jianghu to view the wrath of the Desolate Fortress—an eternal outsider to the martial world—with awkward reluctance.
"Next."
Soon after, another pair stepped onto the arena.
One was a middle-aged man who bore a striking resemblance to Peng Jun, and the other was a one-eyed Brightfolk swordsman wearing a blue bandana.
They were Peng Jun's father, the Giant Strength Radiant Saber Peng Mun-il, and Cheong-myeong, the Blue-Eyed Demon Sword of the Demonlight Wing.
While Peng Mun-il silently unbuckled his scabbard, seemingly indifferent to his son's victory, Cheong-myeong merely nodded toward the head seats with a faint smile playing on his lips.
The magic sword of the Demonlight Wing...
Peng Ya furrowed her brow slightly. She had a bad premonition.
"Begin."
Saber light and sword light clashed, sending cold, blue gleams soaring into the sky.
Their exchange did not last long either. Cheong-myeong drew a massive circle using Peng Mun-il as his axis, sending dozens of streams of blood spraying into the air.
It was like a sword dance. His movements were astonishingly swift and graceful.
It was a rotating sword strike utilizing silk-reeling power to trap his opponent, combined with footwork that seemed to lightly tread upon grass.
There was not a single trace of danger.
The Wind God Movement Technique—it was said to be the Body Protection Scripture of the Flash Art lineage.
"The Desolate Fortress has claimed its second victory. The two of you may step down."
The Peng Clan's saber guests carried away Peng Mun-il, who had collapsed, unconscious and drenched in blood.
Cheong-myeong sheathed his sword in a picture-perfect motion and leisurely vanished into the crowd, leaving a trail of bloody footprints with every step.
It was truly like a tempest.
No one knew how much time had passed.
The martial arts of the Flash Art lineage, which struck as if chasing down its prey, and the saber techniques of the Peng Clan, which sought to crush that prestige with sheer history... The two matches had passed in literal flashes of lightning.
"..."
The arena fell silent.
Only one match remained.
If the Desolate Fortress won, they would take a complete victory at three to one. If the Peng Clan won, it would end in a draw.
Suddenly, the shrill chirping of cicadas filled the air. The sunlight beat down heavily, and the bright midday air shimmered dizzily.
Amidst the unusually prominent, restless movements of nature, Peng Ya slowly rose from her seat.
...A draw is possible.
Swoosh.
The moment she shifted her feet, she was suddenly standing atop the arena. She had openly displayed the attainment of her Body Protection Scripture to the entire world.
Immediately after, she drew the pair of sabers crossed on her back and slammed them into the ground.
Thud!
"The Peng Clan!" Peng Ya shouted in a raw, powerful voice.
"Is a family that has twice halted the advance of the demonfolk who broke through the northern army! In the process, our ancestors suffered losses bordering on total annihilation. We even lost our former clan leader while fighting against the invasion of the Heavenly Demon Cult of the Tianshan Mountains! All of this has occurred within the last two hundred years. As such, our clan has never had the luxury of privately enslaving the common people. We have forged our sabers solely for this land and the Jianghu!"
She briefly listed the achievements of the Peng Clan. It was the kind of self-praise often spouted before a duel where a family's honor was on the line.
Yet, at this moment, Peng Ya's voice cut through the air, carrying a fierce spirit.
Her eyes, however, remained cold. She was not intoxicated by her own words. Only the Peng Clan's saber guests and a portion of the crowd were swept up by her speech.
"I wish to display the martial arts I have honed in such a manner to my fellow companions of the Jianghu today!"
Boom!
"Let the Desolate Fortress speak!"
Raising her twin sabers with the bold, sweeping gesture of a grand general, Peng Ya bellowed toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
"Who among you shall face my saber technique?!"
Her momentum was staggering. The crowd surrounding the arena erupted into thunderous cheers, a deafening roar that made the platform itself vibrate.
The gazes of those well-versed in rumors drifted in a single direction.
They looked toward the young man in black robes sitting with his eyes closed and hands resting on his knees—the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin.
Anticipation flickered across the faces of the crowd.
Few were ignorant of the duel fought between the Flash Art and the Azure Qilin. The rumor that the Flash Art had created a sword technique to honor his worthy rival at the Hanzhong Martial World Alliance was also highly famous.
Qilin's Judgment. To see that sword move bloom from the hands of the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, who had been unable to learn the Imperial Sword Form due to the limitations of his lineage? It would be a spectacle that would keep Dengfeng County buzzing for a long time.
"..."
Yet, Namgung Hwa-shin did not rise. He merely sat in his place with a solemn expression.
At his waist, he did not carry the Heavenly Sword, which the Lotus Nezha was said to have taken from Namgung's First Sword. Nor did any aura resembling the Imperial Sword Form rise from him.
Doubtful murmurs began to ripple through the crowd.
"I haven't the faintest idea what is going on."
"Ah..."
"I can understand, but..."
"A concubine's son, an outcast, the Desolate Fortress, the Namgung Clan, the Azure Qilin. He dipped his toes into everything... but in the end, did he fail to overcome any of it?"
This was a gathering of illustrious figures. No one jeered. Some merely clicked their tongues in pity.
"In the end, has the Flash Art lineage... failed to reach the level of a supreme master?"
"A pity. We will have to wait another ten years. Or perhaps even a year from now, the Blue-Eyed Demon Sword might wear the black robe."
"At any rate, it seems now is not the time."
"What happens now, then? Did the Desolate Fortress intend to settle this with only three people? Surely they must send someone. In the first place, the Mount Hua Agreement is where all generations of a sect clash..."
Suddenly, Peng Ya stamped her foot. The thunderous impact swallowed the commotion in the arena.
"Does the Desolate Fortress intend to make my unsheathing in vain?!"
An overwhelming spirit swept through the arena. Soon, the gaze of the crowd shifted toward the head seats, where the Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress sat with a calm expression.
At that moment—
Rumble!
A deafening sound erupted from the side of the arena. The entire wall of the Green Jade Sword Manor collapsed.
The force behind the impact was so immense that the smoke rising from the rubble was instantly blasted straight up into the sky.
"What...!"
Those who had their backs to the wall quickly spun around.
A pitch-black afterimage flashed through them, accompanied by a monstrously violent gust of wind.
The clothes of the crowd fluttered violently, as if struck by a typhoon.
Whoosh!
The intruder reached the center of the arena in a mere fraction of a second. A man in black robes stood just three paces away from Peng Ya, looking down at her.
"..."
His presence was heavy and tyrannical.
His appearance matched it. A face that must have once been handsome was now marred by scars, and from one of his sleeves, instead of flesh and bone, a dark, metallic prosthetic protruded, absorbing the sunlight.
"Who are you...?"
Just as wonder flickered in the eyes of Peng Ya, who had been rebuking the Desolate Fortress just moments prior, the Ancient Sword in the spectator seats wore a look of utter bewilderment. The old Perfected of Wudang seemed to be acquainted with the intruder.
"If the crowd was the problem, you should have leapt over them. Why did you destroy an innocent wall?" the Ancient Sword scolded.
Only then did the black-robed man slowly open his mouth.
"Why would I climb over a wall? I am no common thief."
"What?"
"I was in quite a hurry. I couldn't very well let the Peng Clan take an absurd victory by default, could I? You may begin now, kid."
That final, dismissive remark was aimed squarely at Peng Ya, the esteemed Blade Marquis of the Peng Family. The intruder’s words and demeanor were practically dripping with insolence. In fact, his sheer, unadulterated arrogance was barely any better than the brazen disrespect displayed by the new Purple Rank on that fateful day when he had ruthlessly slain the Peng Clan Leader. To speak to a martial master of her caliber as if she were a mere toddler playing with wooden sticks was an insult that demanded blood.
Peng Ya’s eyes narrowed into dangerous, razor-thin slits, her gaze turning as cold as a frozen lake. The air around her seemed to drop in temperature as her killing intent flared.
"A retired relic who doesn't even know his place in this world..." she hissed, the venom in her voice unmistakable.
This arena was no longer a place for polite martial formalities or measured tournament bouts. All pretenses of a civilized duel were instantly shattered. Thick, pulsing veins bulged against the pale skin of Peng Ya’s hands as she gripped the hilts of her weapons, channeling her furious inner qi. With a sudden, explosive burst of power, she raised her twin sabers high above her head.
A sharp, ear-piercing screech tore through the air, the sound of tempered steel violently parting the wind. Following the motion of her hands, two blinding trajectories were carved out in the space between them, flashing downward like twin streaks of descending lightning.
It was a brutal, uncompromising technique meant for cleaving a body entirely in two. She intended to strike the black-robed man’s shoulders from point-blank range, using the overwhelming momentum to sever him completely down the middle.
The mere execution of the strike was devastating enough to unleash a deafening roar, a sound that perfectly mimicked a ferocious tiger’s howl—the hallmark of the Peng Family's tyrannical saber arts. In the blink of an eye, the twin blades plunged downward, carrying the weight of a collapsing mountain.
Yet, in that exact, breathless instant, the black-robed man moved. His metallic, prosthetic hands shot upward in a blur, meeting the descending twin sabers with impossible precision.
Clang!
The collision did not result in a chaotic explosion of qi. Instead, the angle of the intruder's metallic hands was perfectly, deliberately slanted. By catching the blades at that exact geometric weak point, the explosive sound of the resulting shockwave was bizarrely suppressed, swallowed up by his flawless technique. Immediately, the eyes of the thousands of martial artists crowding the arena spectator seats widened in absolute disbelief.
"...!"
What happened next defied all martial logic. The twin sabers of the Blade Marquis of the Peng Family, having had their immense downward kinetic force completely redirected, naturally soared upward along a guided path. With a smooth, sickeningly perfect motion, the blades were forced straight back down into the scabbards resting at her waist.
It was as if the intruder had casually sheathed her weapons for her in the middle of her own ultimate attack.
In the brutal world of the martial arts, he had just inflicted a humiliation so profound it was akin to kicking her into a bottomless abyss. To utterly neutralize a peak-level saber artist's killing strike by sheathing their own blades was a supreme display of dominance, a silent declaration that she was not even worthy of drawing her weapons against him.
"Full-body Fa Jin," the black-robed man muttered softly, his calm, analytical voice echoing clearly in the stunned, pin-drop silence of the arena. "It is the Jeong Family Dynamic Art."
