Chapter 430: Grandmaster (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 430: Grandmaster (4)
A hot wind swept across the sparring stage and blew toward the spectator seats.
The sunlight pouring down from the wide-open sky was already dazzling in its own right, but it was nothing compared to the clamor of those who lived in the turbulent Jianghu.
"Who is that man? By what right does he enter the duel?"
"Didn't he just say it was the Jeong Family Dynamic Art...! The very martial art that the defeated White-Ranked Warrior mentioned as a simplified version!"
Murmurs erupted from the crowd. The shattered wall crumbled with a clattering sound, spitting out rough stone debris.
On one side, the members of the Peng Clan, all dressed in silk martial uniforms and carrying antique sabers, remained silent. Each wore a different expression.
Many were left dumbfounded by behavior that was utterly unheard of in the Orthodox Jianghu.
Most of the audience only began exchanging opinions with those around them after the intruder deflected the saber strike of the Blade Marquis of the Peng Family.
Some groaned, seemingly recognizing the identity of the black-robed man.
The experts of the Peng Clan were no different.
It was a stark contrast to moments ago, when they had worn subtle, triumphant smiles at Namgung Hwa-shin's silence.
Their expressions betrayed a desperate attempt to suppress their shock. Every trace of laughter had vanished from their lips. The elders, veteran experts, and young saber-wielders whispered in hushed tones.
"The Naraka Reaper, Ma Jin... the former Commander of the Demonlight Wing."
"I heard he lost his arm and became the Head of the Desolate Ma Clan, but the movement he just showed is hardly that of someone who lost his acupoints. What on earth is going on...?"
"He said 'Jeong Family Dynamic Art.' He called it the Jeong Family Dynamic Art."
"I heard it's a martial art created by the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. Of course... since he is the Commander's uncle, he likely received the true version, not some simplified copy."
This was a tournament to determine the hierarchy of the martial lineages of prestigious sects.
No other duel carried such immense honor. That was precisely why the Naraka Reaper Ma Jin had introduced his martial art.
After forcing the saber of the Blade Marquis of the Peng Family—one of the Five Bright Vessels—back into its scabbard, he had spoken of its profound principles. No one could help but pay attention.
The Jeong Family Dynamic Art.
It was a martial art shrouded in mystery.
Although some Desolate Fortress martial artists who traveled the Jianghu claimed it was a dynamic cultivation art comparable to Shaolin's Muscle Tendon Changing Classic, almost no martial artist took those words at face value.
This was due to the sheer symbolism of Bodhidharma's Muscle Tendon Changing Classic—a world-shaking divine art that rebuilt the bones and muscles of the world's greatest monks from their very roots.
Furthermore, the talent of a Martial God, who grew powerful at a rate that seemed to compress time itself, was often considered entirely separate from the caliber of a Grandmaster, who could create a brand-new divine art from scratch.
"Ho..."
A few knowledgeable individuals in the spectator seats let their eyes gleam.
They were the ones the surrounding crowd had previously referred to as the 'Six Kings Martial Lineage.' From young youths to older, handsome men and women, they all wore leather hand-guards on their bare hands.
"That prosthetic arm bears the craftsmanship of the renowned Ironfolk. However, even if he has attached a hand that moves with internal power, it shouldn't be possible to fully restore the balance of meridians that were completely torn away."
"He called it a dynamic cultivation art. If its efficacy is even half of Shaolin's Muscle Tendon Changing Classic, it would be more than enough to cleanse his acupoints."
"Did you see his strike?"
"Only faintly."
"My eye technique couldn't capture it fully."
This was the Orthodox Jianghu. In a world where exchanges and hospitality between sects were frequent, discussions on the sword were bound to flourish.
Naturally, many in the spectator seats began debating the origins of Ma Jin's martial arts.
Meanwhile, at the center of the sparring stage.
The Blade Marquis of the Peng Family narrowed her eyes, gripping the hilts of both sabers behind her back.
A colorless shockwave, rising like smoke from her palms, ruffled the tips of her hair.
"Full-body Fa Jin...?" she muttered. She had been analyzing her opponent's martial arts ever since her twin sabers were forced back into their scabbards.
"I heard you possess decent martial talent," the black-robed man, the former Commander of the Demonlight Wing, the Naraka Reaper, said calmly. "But it is not something you can comprehend."
"Ha...!"
A hollow laugh escaped Peng Ya's lips, twisting them.
The Naraka Reaper Ma Jin.
He was a man of notorious repute. Though the common folk called him a righteous hero, in the Jianghu, he was known as a rogue and a near-murderous fiend.
When he fell from power due to the incident at the City of Master Craftsmen in Sichuan, mockery had even circulated. People said he had finally met an end befitting his moniker.
Some had even felt relieved, for Ma Jin was considered one of the most vicious among the seventeen Black Ranks of the Divine Sword Corps.
If the Naraka Reaper had truly made a comeback using the Flash Art's martial arts, that rumor would be treated as urgent news. Many sects would blame, yet deeply revere, the Lotus Nezha.
While they reeled from the shocking emergence of a rare, peerless divine art in the Jianghu—
Thud!
Peng Ya vanished from her spot. Only a faint ring of dust remained in concentric circles.
It was a footwork technique that bewildered the eyes, appearing almost identical to Transposition.
In contrast, Ma Jin simply stood still. His dark, metallic left arm and his intact right arm hung loosely at his sides.
"Hmm."
His chest was thrown out in a haughty posture. Only the hem of his black robe, embroidered with the character 'Hwang', fluttered violently. His demeanor made it clear that he intended to see right through his opponent's capabilities.
For not only was he without a starting stance, but his expression remained entirely unbothered.
Whoosh!
Having drawn her twin sabers at some point, Peng Ya materialized at his flank.
With her disheveled hair whipping through the air, she swung both sabers horizontally at the same time. The surrounding air shook as if struck by an earthquake.
In that instant, without even turning his head, Ma Jin thrust out his dark prosthetic arm.
Clang—!
Metal fingers forged from precious Black Iron deflected the twin sabers from below. That single motion completely neutralized her saber strike.
This was because his sister, buried in the graves of the Jeong Family Manor, firmly held the flow of internal power stretching from his shoulder to his prosthetic arm.
Ma Jin immediately extended his Black Iron prosthetic and grabbed Peng Ya by the collar.
"You have good spirit," he said briefly. He meant that despite employing an extreme offensive technique like twin saber arts, her execution lacked caution. Instantly, a colorless light flashed in Peng Ya's eyes.
In a split second, she reversed her grip on the twin sabers that had been deflected upward.
It was a near-miraculous display of dexterity. The moment Ma Jin pulled her collar, Peng Ya, though dragged helplessly forward, slammed down her reverse-gripped sabers.
Naturally, Ma Jin swung his intact right arm to deflect the saber technique.
Boom!
A violent shockwave erupted. At the same time, the floor of the sparring stage shattered heavily, scattering thick dust and stone fragments in all directions.
Ma Jin smiled.
"You managed to hold onto them."
His tone was too plain to be called sarcastic. Yet, it was hardly the way to speak to a martial artist who now represented an entire clan.
Stepping back a great distance, Peng Ya spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva. She still held both sabers firmly.
"Did you think that Fa Jin would work twice?"
She was a genius of martial arts.
She had long surpassed the limits of her age. Occasionally invited by the Embroidered Uniform Guard to serve as an instructor, she had commanded the absolute admiration of the Forbidden City's warriors.
Excluding the imperial family, she could easily be called the greatest prodigy of Beizhili.
She was capable of analyzing her opponent's previous strike and adjusting her grip on her sabers to ensure she would not fall for the same trick twice.
She subtly wiggled the five fingers of both hands, redistributing her strength.
She also channeled a massive amount of internal power into the Shaofu Point — Lesser Mansion and the Laogong Point — Palace of Toil, the acupoints concentrated in her palms.
And then, she stared at her opponent.
That thing...
The dark prosthetic arm equipped by the Naraka Reaper was clearly an artificial device.
Just as a master of the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak could manipulate true qi at will, that prosthetic arm absorbed internal power to mimic human movement down to the very knuckles.
It was a rare treasure that could only be crafted by the Desolate Fortress, which lacked neither wealth nor resources. It was undoubtedly a divine weapon that had undergone the secret processes of the Ironfolk.
However, there was no way it could perfectly replace human flesh and bone. There had to be a limit.
Peng Ya's eyes gleamed with sharp calculation.
It must consume an immense amount of internal power. That's why he isn't making any large movements. The longer the exchange lasts, the more the advantage shifts to me.
She only needed to hold out. That was her thought.
The Jeong Family Dynamic Art was indeed a rare dynamic cultivation art under heaven. What more was there to say? It was powerful enough to reunite the essence, qi, and spirit of a man whose entire arm had been severed.
But could it truly be as solid as the martial arts of a prestigious family that had maintained its lineage for hundreds of years? Did its flow of true qi possess both stability and explosive power?
I might even be able to force a draw in this Great Sect War.
One corner of her mouth curled upward.
Watching her quietly, Ma Jin asked in a casual tone, "Why do you cling so desperately to such a trivial victory?"
"Because it isn't trivial," Peng Ya replied, circulating the internal power from her dantian to the acupoints across her entire body. From now on, it would be a continuous barrage of heavy strikes.
She had to avoid getting swept up in her opponent's offensive while maintaining her own momentum. If she could do that, a path to victory would eventually present itself.
Her lips parted slightly.
"This duel carries the fate of my clan. Our deceased Family Head acted on his own and did something we should never have done, and even that ended in failure. If we lose here, we might have to close our gates entirely."
"Something you should never have done?" Ma Jin asked back in a peculiar tone.
Both of them knew they were speaking of the Net of Heaven and Earth deployed against the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. Peng Ya nodded slowly.
"I don't know if you'll believe me, but our clan members opposed it. I was staying in the Forbidden City at the time just to avoid receiving the order. I thought the Family Head had completely lost his mind. Spouting nonsense about the freedom of the Jianghu..."
"You are gravely mistaken. My belief does not matter."
Ma Jin glanced briefly toward the spectator seats. There sat Jeong Yeon-shin, wearing a long robe that appeared crimson under the shadow of the canopy.
He rested his forehead slightly in his hand, as if ignoring the Perfected Ancient Sword sitting beside him, looking remarkably mature. He seemed burdened by his uncle's overbearing spirit.
—She isn't lying.
Jeong Yeon-shin was now a Purple Rank. It was impossible to even fathom how powerful the capabilities of his Upper Dantian were. At the very least, he would easily be able to discern the truth behind her words.
Since he has already grown into such a magnificent man, I suppose I can no longer guide him.
Ma Jin shook his head inwardly.
Even so, he could not abandon his role as the representative of his sister, Ma Yeon-sang. He had to set a proper example for his nephew, who was always breaking conventions.
"I will end this with the next strike," he said. One of Peng Ya's eyebrows arched.
"What?"
"Fortunately, it seems your interests align reasonably well with those of our fortress. We do not know when the Thirteen Heavens will band together and rise again, so there is no need to add another corpse to the pile here."
So spoke the uncle of the Desolate Fortress's new Purple Rank, the man who had slain the Peng Family Head.
Peng Ya fell silent. She was already prepared to unleash her ultimate technique. There was no reason to listen to his nonsense.
First, a single strike.
The local aristocrats of the martial world.
Otherwise known as the martial clans.
They possessed a strong tendency to utterly crush their opponents.
By prioritizing the interests of their clan for generations, they had been able to prosper in the Jianghu, relentlessly overwhelming neighboring sects.
This moment was no different.
A grand, unobstructed resonance erupted from Peng Ya's saber. It was the Five Tigers Severing Door Saber, Dragon-Swallowing Wilderness Tiger—just as the name of the stance implied.
Her arm, channeling immense power, began to vibrate, leaving afterimages in its wake. It was the strain of loading such a heavy strike.
Peng Ya could unleash this five times. That was why it was called the Five Tigers Severing Door Saber.
It would be more than enough to test the limits of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art—the martial art of the Flash Art, Jeong Yeon-shin—which had restored the Naraka Reaper Ma Jin.
At this moment, the crowd watching the sparring stage undoubtedly shared the same thought. After all, riffraff could not even cross the gates of the Green Jade Sword Manor.
This was a place where two martial lineages pitted their profound skills against each other.
The tip of Peng Ya's foot tapped the ground. It was a footwork technique that appeared light at first glance, but it was a heavy stomp.
The sparring stage rippled violently in concentric circles like the surface of a lake. The thunderous roar followed a beat later.
Thud! Whoosh!
In the next instant, she was crossing her twin sabers right before Ma Jin's face. The leg strength she used to charge forward sharpened the sound of her blades cutting through the air.
Widening his stance before her, Ma Jin threw a punch. It was aimed directly at the intersection of the two sabers.
This time, it was not his prosthetic arm. He delivered a single blow with his other arm—his bare, flesh-and-blood hand.
Shatter—!
Peng Ya, who had been planning for five exchanges, widened her eyes.
Reflected in her eyes, which shimmered with colorless light, was a fist approaching as it shattered her twin blades into pieces.
What...?
That was not all.
Through the gaps of the metal shards scattering in all directions and refracting the sunlight, the Naraka Reaper's full figure came clearly into view.
A saber hilt jutted out diagonally from one of his shoulders. She only recognized it now. It was a truly shocking sight.
Indeed. The signature technique of the former Commander of the Demonlight Wing was originally said to be a practical saber art meant for the battlefield. She had failed to realize this because of the initial strike he had shown.
It was a fact that brought immense humiliation to the entire Peng Clan. Even if she were to plunge into the deepest abyss, she would never be able to wash away this shame.
What a sly bastard...
Rumble!
Ma Jin closed the distance instantly as her body was blown backward. It happened in a split second.
The moment he formed a hand blade and struck Peng Ya's abdomen, a circular shockwave exploded with a sharp crack. Peng Ya was slammed straight into the floor of the sparring stage.
Crash!
Along with a dull thud, a thick cloud of dust billowed up.
"..."
The midday sun was incredibly bright. Anyone could easily distinguish who was lying down and who was standing. Before silence could even settle over the venue, a voice drifted down from the spectator seats.
"The Peng Clan has lost."
It was the voice of the Desolate Fortress's new Purple Rank.
The Perfected Ancient Sword, who had been about to speak as the duel's notary, froze.
The Flash Art, the Lotus Nezha, whose lips had twitched slightly as he looked down at his uncle, instantly regained his indifferent expression.
