Chapter 433: Grandmaster (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 433: Grandmaster (7)
A Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress had brought an old expert of the Orthodox Factions to his knees.
This was likely because the Spear-Sword Lord, Namgung Muhak, had pressured Namgung Hwa-shin by leveraging their ties of blood.
The very cadence of his voice was extraordinary, carrying a faint but distinct hostility beneath its commanding tone. He had clearly stepped in after observing from afar.
No one dared to criticize his words or actions.
The young man who had descended upon this place following the booming Six Harmonies Sound Transmission of the Namgung Clan's Elder Council Head—the Lotus Nezha, the Flash Art—possessed the status, martial prowess, and ancient Ma family bloodline that made such arrogance permissible.
By now, there was no one in Dengfeng County who did not know of Jeong Yeon-shin's origins. The standards applied to him were entirely different.
“I'm envious,” Peng Ya muttered, standing on the threshold behind the confronting parties.
No one looked back at her. A fierce pressure, accompanied by the rumbling howl of the wind, was weighing heavily upon the surroundings.
It was clearly a type of sword-wind meant to bolster a strike, yet it exerted an overbearing force on the vicinity as if it possessed a physical form.
Just like the Imperial Sword Form of the Namgung direct line.
“…….”
The silence was heavy. The dozen or so Namgung Clan swordsmen escorting the Elder Council Head trembled slightly, their faces filled with shock.
Each of them struggled desperately to stand, but the limit of their efforts was merely raising a single knee by bursting waves of qi through the Yongquan points on the soles of their feet.
Only the crumbs of dirt grinding beneath their leather boots made a harsh, scraping sound.
And yet, this martial art was of a completely different nature than the Imperial Sword Form.
The profound truth of this sword technique did not lie in restricting an enemy's movements.
It was simply that the sword-wind—which should only burst forth the moment before drawing the blade—possessed a pressure equal to that of the Imperial Sword Form.
It was as if the hand of the Azure Qilin was wrapped around Jeong Yeon-shin's hilt, helping him draw his sword.
“Mmh...”
A few swordsmen who had witnessed the life-and-death duel between the Desolate Fortress and the Namgung Clan suppressed groans of lamentation.
There was no greater humiliation in the world.
It felt as though it would be better to have one's dantian shattered.
The very sword technique honoring their deceased eldest young master was aimed at them, and they had been forced to their knees, unable to withstand its momentum.
To those of prestigious clans, reputation was as precious as life itself. Such a disgraceful display must never be known to the Jianghu.
The newly appointed Purple Rank glanced over. Standing there was the genius whom countless people currently coveted for marriage, friendship, and blood ties.
The White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, who had been watching the confrontation with a complex expression, bowed his head slightly to Jeong Yeon-shin.
“I have caused you worry.”
“Did you see it?”
“Pardon...?”
“Never mind.”
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been standing tall, chest out and hand resting on his sword hilt, lowered his eyes slightly.
He turned his gaze back to Namgung Muhak and demanded an answer.
“Elder Council Head.”
The sword-wind flowing from the scabbard of Lingering Thunder slowly subsided. The eerie sound of rolling pebbles tickled the surroundings.
While the saber-wielders of the Peng Clan, now completely released from Namgung Muhak's pressure, looked at Jeong Yeon-shin with eyes full of awe, the old swordsman of the Namgung Clan remained on his knees.
“This is a family matter. Please, step back,” Namgung Muhak spoke slowly, his voice showing his age.
Although the sword-wind of Qilin's Judgment that had suddenly broken his posture had vanished, he did not rise from his spot.
“However, I also apologize. This old man has committed a discourtesy that goes against proper decorum. Your sword technique puts me to shame.”
It is difficult to strike someone who is already bowing and prostrating. He was bending his lofty pride to secure a practical advantage.
As the Elder Council Head of one of the Eight Great Families, his cunning and experience were far beyond what Jeong Yeon-shin could match.
At this moment, a tremendous sense of shame rushed to the crown of the old swordsman's head, flushing his wrinkled face red. Yet, he was thankful he was not dealing with the Elder Council Head of the Desolate Fortress.
'I never imagined the child who faced Se-jin back then would grow to be this great, but...'
It is better this way.
If the decrepit Hegemon Hero had been before him, he would not have knelt, but it is difficult to always maintain face at the absolute peak of the Jianghu.
Because one never knows where an anomaly like the Lotus Nezha, the Flash Art, might appear.
“Furthermore, I make a cautious request. Would you return the Heavenly Sword to our clan? What you recovered is an heirloom of the Namgung Clan. It is a precious sword plundered by a rogue of the Martial Dragon Association who severed ties with our family.”
With every syllable, he put the bonds of blood first.
The current Green Jade Sword Manor was a microcosm of the Orthodox Jianghu. Most of those staying in the manor valued righteousness and proper principles.
Unless Namgung Hwa-shin made the decision himself, it would not look good for his superior to step in and dictate things.
Justification and legitimacy were indeed Namgung Muhak's life-saving herbs.
The gazes of the prestigious clan experts focused on Jeong Yeon-shin.
The newly appointed Purple Rank slowly parted his lips.
“You speak of ridiculous things.”
“……?”
“Are the grievances of the Jianghu so light?”
“What do you mean by...”
“If sheer luck preserved a life that should have been cut short, you should have stayed quietly within your clan and not ventured out.”
The room was filled with highly perceptive individuals. Everyone realized that Jeong Yeon-shin was referring to past grievances.
The life-and-death duel between the Desolate Fortress and the Namgung Clan. The Namgung Elder Council Head, who was originally supposed to face the sword of the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, had not participated in the duel. He had used the pretext of matching numbers, as the Elder Council Head of the Desolate Fortress—who was part of the duel roster—had gone missing.
It was something even the Desolate Fortress found difficult to dispute.
However, Jeong Yeon-shin was the very person who had triggered that life-and-death duel in the first place.
Coupled with the fact that his subordinate, Namgung Hwa-shin, had been pressured today, no one could criticize him for showing ill feelings toward the Namgung Clan at this moment.
“I assume you have no intention of opposing me with force. Since you brought up the Heavenly Sword, I will state my intentions.”
“…….”
The old swordsman's body trembled ever so slightly. The Namgung Clan was akin to the royal family of Southern Zhili.
Such humiliation could normally only be washed away by taking one's own life, but considering the survival of the clan, even that was a difficult choice to make.
“Speak... let us hear it...”
“I will give the choice to Namgung Hwa-shin.”
“What...?”
“He is a direct descendant of the Namgung Clan and, at the same time, a Black Rank of the Desolate Fortress. He is qualified to wield the Heavenly Sword, which is a spoil of war belonging to our fortress. If Namgung Hwa-shin wishes to have it, I will give it to him. If he does not want it, it will be returned intact to its original owner, the Namgung Clan. Unlike you, our fortress understands proper principles.”
The moment Jeong Yeon-shin finished speaking, Namgung Muhak raised his head. The old swordsman's gaze locked directly onto Namgung Hwa-shin.
“Ah-shin! You may take the Heavenly Sword. It is the cleanest precious sword in the world...! It suits you perfectly, you who blossomed your sword talent like a lotus in a swamp. Bring forth the sword treasure!”
His last words were directed at the Namgung Clan swordsman standing behind him.
The man immediately untied a silk bundle from his back and extracted a wooden box.
Click.
With a faint scent of wood, the lid opened. The secret manual inside revealed a four-character title.
帝王劍形.
It was the Imperial Sword Form.
Standing behind Jeong Yeon-shin's shoulder, Namgung Hwa-shin's eyes widened.
“This is what you wanted so desperately. Was this not the ultimate technique that drove you to the Desolate Fortress?”
The voice of the old swordsman, Namgung Muhak, grew progressively louder.
“Ah-shin! Southern Zhili, where your brother laid the foundation, is like a candle flickering in the wind! The commoners are constantly plundered by rogue martial artists just as they sit down to eat, and our clan's plaque is on the verge of being torn down by enemies who covet Southern Zhili! Please, carry on Se-jin's will! You may lead the Namgung Clan as you wish! The Changgung Sword Unit will follow you!”
His cry was desperate. His aging voice scraped against the air.
He was trying to poach a subordinate right in front of a Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress. This was an act for which anyone else would have to risk their life.
For a moment, the onlookers thought the newly appointed Purple Rank's hand might crush the old swordsman's head. But contrary to his reputation, the Lotus Nezha, the Flash Art, exercised the patience of a gentleman.
“…Take your time and wait. Our fortress respects the will of our Black Ranks.”
Step.
Jeong Yeon-shin walked past the old swordsman.
After looking down at the Elder Council Head with a heavy gaze for a moment, Namgung Hwa-shin followed him.
* * *
Namgung Hwa-shin was an expert who lacked nothing in any aspect. Ever since he entered the Desolate Fortress, the term 'Absolute Perfection' had suited him perfectly.
He silently walked the Righteous Path, constantly growing stronger as a swordsman. In terms of sword power alone, he had already transcended the realm of a rising star back when he was a Blue Rank.
He had digested the energy of the spirit medicines melted throughout his body—remnants of when he was almost used as a Hidden Sword of the Namgung Clan in his childhood—into true internal energy.
Though he fell short of the eldest young master of the Hwangbo Clan, who was born with the Solar Divine Pulse, he had built up an accumulated qi amount worthy of eyeing the Black Rank.
To this, his innate talent and cultivation—akin to a clear mirror and still water—were added.
It was the realm of the unity of essence, qi, and spirit.
It was also the result of swinging his sword even when the moon was high in the sky. He spent each day as if it were an eternity.
Though people praised Namgung Hwa-shin as a flawless genius, in truth, he had never been able to properly decide or do anything with his own life.
Not his concubine-born status that barred him from inheriting the Imperial Sword Form, nor the death of his mother who had been a Hidden Sword, nor the life-and-death duel with his younger sister that he was originally supposed to conclude, nor the ends of his brother Namgung Se-jin and the Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing, Ha Do-un...
He could not decide. He could not even face or witness them.
His seemingly upright demeanor was closer to a learned shell. Inside, Namgung Hwa-shin was empty.
He was powerless. Even at this moment, as he walked the training ground with Jeong Yeon-shin, his heart was drowning in frustration. He simply did not show it.
And now, he finally stood in a position where he could truly make a choice.
“How is the Ma Family Head?”
“He has a rough temperament, so a lot of force is loaded into his strikes. It will take a while for him to recover his depleted internal power.”
“…My apologies.”
“It is not something the temporary Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing should apologize for,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied casually.
The Namgung scoundrels had essentially placed Qilin's Judgment and the Imperial Sword Form on a scale, but for him, the Flash Art Lineage—even if it was currently being passed down like the clumsy flailing of a monkey—was enough.
“May I ask you one thing?”
“Speak.”
“How did the Ghost-Howling Hegemon and the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect meet their ends?”
Jeong Yeon-shin paused for a moment. He had not expected him to ask first about the culprits who had driven the Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing, Ha Do-un, to his death. He had assumed Namgung Hwa-shin would bring up the Azure Qilin.
Was it to avoid placing a burden on him? Until now, he had never asked Jeong Yeon-shin about the moment Brilliant River was completed.
“…They died by the blade. It was a bit unsightly,” Jeong Yeon-shin spoke exactly as he felt. The other party was a peer who had taken the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam alongside him, so he could afford to be this candid.
In any case, other than the Azure Qilin and the Eon Family's Number One Fist, there had been no opponents worthy of being called impressive.
After a brief silence, as if lost for words, Namgung Hwa-shin slowly spoke.
“I have... many debts to repay.”
“Debts?”
“My sister, my brother, the Ghost-Howling Hegemon, and the Lord of the Golden Wing Sect... they were all people I should have faced. You bore the burden of all of them in my stead.”
“They were my grievances as well.”
“Please give me the opportunity this time. I realized it today. This is what I should have done long ago.”
Suddenly, Namgung Hwa-shin stopped in his tracks. The emotions that had been hidden behind his clear mirror and still water began to reveal glimpses of themselves.
There was anger, longing, transcendence, and a gratitude blooming from within the emptiness. A mixture of emotions flickered in his pitch-black eyes.
Rustle.
It was the sound of stiff fabric creasing.
“I beg of you.”
Namgung Hwa-shin slowly knelt, as if turning back twenty-three years of time.
“If you would bestow upon me your divine ultimate technique, I will polish and refine myself without cease.”
* * *
“I report to the Hidden Sword.”
“What is it?”
“Your esteemed son is at the Green Jade Sword Manor.”
“Ma Jin, that rascal?”
“Thanks to him, they say our fortress is also riding a wave of victories. They have met the Diancang Sect without suffering a single defeat along the way...”
“How worrying.”
“Yes, they have finally reached the Nine Sects... However, the rumor that the current Sword Empress pierced the sun with her sword tip is quite concerning. If that story is true, does it not mean she has reached the absolute pinnacle of the Sun-Shooting Sword? The Diancang Sect's Moon-Piercing Divine Sword, who might decide the match against your esteemed son, is also a problem. Thanks to consuming the inner core of a monster from the mountains of Yunnan, his accumulated qi amount is said to be on par with even the Shaolin Four Great Vajras. Such is the underlying strength of the Nine Sects.”
“Not that. I mean the prestige of our fortress.”
“With such mastery of internal energy and outstanding sword qi, even our fortress's Commander of the Searing Abyss Unit once struggled... Pardon...?”
“It is a natural law that cannot be helped that Yeon-shin takes after his mother. But even the only son I have left is being called 'Naraka' in the Jianghu.”
“…….”
“This must be the Grand Steward's oversight. To place those two together? Had this old man been by their side, it might be different, but my stomach turns just thinking about what those Nine Sects bastards, who boast of being immortals, will think among themselves.”
“I did not believe the Hidden Sword ever cared for the gaze of the world.”
“My grandson's honor is at stake. And you, despite being the Commander of the Radiant Sword Unit, did you not say you were curious about the Lightning-Flash Sword Ridge Style? Even if we think of this in the most worldly terms, it is still not enough.”
“I have not yet met the new Purple Rank... In any case, which way shall we go? There are no official roads in this direction for the time being. Which means the Brightfolk secret art will not hide our presence. But if we just climb any random mountain, all kinds of spirit beasts will be drawn to us because of this inner core...”
“Follow me. It won't take long.”
“Pardon?”
“The ground this old man walks upon is the official road.”