Chapter 439: The Sunset Flag
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 439: The Sunset Flag
Divine Monk Beomheo.
The Shaolin Abbot declared an early end to the Mount Hua Agreement Martial Arts Tournament. Martial artists had been rising up sporadically around Dengfeng County, threatening the very livelihoods of the common people.
They were plundering massive quantities of food, water, and livestock—the lifelines of the people during this great famine.
The leadership of the Six Kings Sect, acting as mere lackeys for these uprisings, was swiftly suppressed by the swordsmen of the Mount Hua Sect, led by the Saint Flower Sword God Yul Ha-nang-rang.
"We only wished to save the six masters of our sect."
Their excuse was brief. The leaders of the Six Kings Sect kept their mouths firmly shut regarding whose orders they followed or what they had been promised in return.
Rumors swirled that they had struck a deal with the Thirteen Heavens of the Wicked Way, perhaps even the Taemo Mountain Fortress. To save the grandmasters of the Six Kings Sect—men already on the verge of reaching the end of their natural lifespans—there was virtually no other way than through rejuvenation or heaven-defying sorcery.
The Great Famine.
The chivalrous heroes of the land were being put to the test by these troubled times. Would they hold fast to the banner of righteousness even while starving, or would they cast aside their dignity and honor to fill their bellies and secure their futures?
Those who answered the call of the Six Kings Sect's uprising had chosen the latter.
They had been covertly plundering various parts of the relatively fertile Henan Province, only to be dismantled by the immortals of the Nine Sects.
Alongside the Mount Hua Sect, which focused on capturing the leaders of the Six Kings Sect, the swords of Emei, Diancang, Qingcheng, and Wudang displayed their grand majesty. The martial arts of these immortals, who had descended from their mountains after a long absence, truly lived up to the reputation of their thousand-year lineages.
It was as if they were declaring to the entire world that the Desolate Fortress was not the only faction that cared for the common people.
A few gossips even debated whether the Desolate Fortress or the Nine Sects held greater influence. As the hearts of the people in the Jianghu grew harsh and the value of righteousness plummeted, eclipsed by the desperate struggle for survival, this was a rivalry no one had ever asked for.
"…The Abbot of the Shaolin Temple broke his vow against killing?"
"Your Jeong Family Dynamic Art seems a bit disturbed right now… Oh, it's not? It is certainly something to be grateful for, but neither the Divine Monk nor the Buddha statues in Shaolin's Great Hero Hall could claim that those killing moves were unleashed because of you, Unit Commander. After all, even the great Shaolin is not free from internal factions. And the Abbot is right at the center of it."
"Factions?"
"Fierce phrases like 'Sweeping Away Demons and Eradicating Evil' originally came from Shaolin, didn't they? But apparently, there are also martial monks who want to return to the merciful teachings of the Buddha. The Divine Monk doesn't force his own methods on his disciples, but they say that in his youth, the number of wicked martial artists whose heads he smashed was far greater than the corrupt officials decapitated by Elder Hegemon Hero. He was almost excommunicated several times because of it, apparently."
This quiet conversation drifted from inside a cozy carriage surrounded by the martial artists of the Desolate Fortress. Jeong Yeon-shin and Shin So-bin sat opposite each other.
"How could anyone's temperament be more explosive than my maternal grandfather's…" Jeong Yeon-shin's voice trailed off.
Shin So-bin continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Though now he is practically the greatest expert of the Orthodox Factions, so no one dares say a word to him. Still, it was the first time I've ever seen Elder Hegemon Hero acknowledge someone."
"Hmm."
Originally, the newly appointed Purple Rank had been resting in a large palanquin, but as soon as he regained consciousness, he ordered a carriage to be brought instead. This was because he had belatedly heard rumors of the "Commander of the Demonlight Wing's Triumphant Return to Xiangyang."
And he had heard it from none other than his maternal uncle, Ma Jin.
Ma Jin had added that since the entire world already knew of his achievements, it would be best if he carried himself with humility. Jeong Yeon-shin had no choice but to nod, albeit reluctantly. As a Unit Commander, he couldn't use his subordinates as an excuse for ostentation.
'He will join us soon.'
Ma Jin had remained at the Green Jade Sword Manor for a short while to discuss matters with the leaders of the Nine Sects on Jeong Yeon-shin's behalf. They needed time to negotiate how much territory and with what forces these great sects—which rarely gathered in one place—would defend in the future.
As the Head of the Desolate Ma Clan, even if his character was somewhat lacking in virtue, Ma Jin was more than qualified to act as the newly appointed Purple Rank's representative.
Thus, Jeong Yeon-shin's time, which would have otherwise been divided among various trivial matters, flowed in a single direction: toward the land he had not returned to for a long time, toward Xiangyang, where his home lay.
"……"
Inside the carriage, Jeong Yeon-shin closed his slightly parted lips.
The rattling of the carriage wheels was occasionally punctuated by the snorting of the horses. In sync with the vibrations, Shin So-bin's hair swayed gently against the nape of her neck.
The chief disciple of the Flash Art Lineage looked at Jeong Yeon-shin with an amused expression, her small lips curving slightly upward. Her grandmaster had a side to him that resembled a country boy, harboring a naive fondness for Taoists and monks. Naturally, the ruthless actions of Divine Monk Beomheo must have come as a shock to him.
However, a Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress had to see through everything in the Murim—not only the hidden secrets but also the unspoken truths that bordered on common knowledge.
Shin So-bin spoke once more, aiming to secure her position as Jeong Yeon-shin's direct subordinate in the upcoming reorganization of their forces. Since her martial prowess was still lacking, she had to at least prove her utility as a scion of a prestigious family. Even she did not know how the personnel appointments centered around the new Purple Rank would play out.
"My grandfather told me to keep the talk about Shaolin's factions a secret, but I felt you should know, Unit Commander. Since you'll likely clash with the Nine Sects in subtle ways from now on."
"Me, clashing with the Nine Sects?"
"Yes! Now you know how the Divine Monk operates. If you ever receive a mission to capture someone alive in Henan, you might find yourself in a brief standoff with them. There could be many other situations like that as well."
There had been a time when the Demonlight Wing and the Plum Blossom Swordsmen clashed over the treatment of a Mount Hua Sect lay disciple who had broken the law. That had happened before Jeong Yeon-shin entered the Desolate Fortress. A Purple Rank was of a hierarchy that ultimately had to take responsibility for such incidents—either through diplomacy or through martial force.
Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin thought of Lady Yul-ha, who always wore a smiling face.
Would a moment ever come when he would have to trade blows in earnest with her and the other masters of the Nine Sects? The world was already chaotic enough with just the Thirteen Heavens of the Wicked Way and the northern demonfolk.
Shaking his head inwardly, he pulled a letter from his breast pocket with a soft rustle. The words "To Yeon-shin" were scrawled across it in a bizarre, crooked hand. It was the letter from his maternal grandfather that Heonwon Chang had handed him earlier.
He had been so busy receiving reports from his companions that he hadn't been able to break the seal until now. It was only right to open it before dawn.
Rustle.
Along with the rough texture of the paper, barely legible brushstrokes unfolded before him. Jeong Yeon-shin activated his eye technique and began to read.
[Yeon-shin, it is your grandfather.
You look remarkably well, which is wonderful to see. I knew that robe would suit you well. I am also curious about how the Emperor appeared in your eyes, Yeon-shin. We will have a chance to talk about it someday.
I heard through that Yong fellow that you spoke down to the Wudang Taoist.
This grandfather of yours was secretly looking forward to the day I could teach my grandson how to drink, but I overlooked the fact that you were born with the spirit of our fortress deep in your bones. I am both disappointed and immensely proud.
You must know that from now on, you are beneath no one in the entire Jianghu.
Even the Fortress Lord treats the Purple Ranks as companions rather than subordinates, so what could possibly stand above us?
I have already heard of the events in Sichuan.
The death of the Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing, Ha Do-un, is not your fault. The death of a fortress warrior is a common occurrence in war, and it is enough that you settled that grudge with your own hands.
Reflect on it deeply, but do not insult the Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing with prolonged mourning. He served this country with utmost loyalty.
At any rate, I was astonished by your achievements.
A fully realized martial artist stood before my very eyes. To see the sword strikes of that clumsily rejuvenated Sword Empress blocked by your body protection Qi... I suspect that now, even if you were to look at this grandfather's techniques, you might find them lacking.
Since this old man is the one called grandfather by the great Jeong Yeon-shin, I intend to devote myself even further to remain a wall for my grandson to overcome.
I have so much more to say, but the margins are narrow.
That Yong fellow is so thoughtless that he failed to tell you beforehand, but now that you have become a Purple Rank, there is something you absolutely must know.
The spirit beast you stabbed to death in Beijing a while ago—monsters and anomalies like that human-faced spider are scattered all over the land.
They are incredibly cunning, hiding themselves with their own energy, so ordinary people cannot easily perceive their existence.
Only those crazy Taoists dancing with swords in the mountains and the bald monks who have mastered beating people while chanting Buddhist prayers can barely see them in advance and deal with them.
These are troubled times.
Invisible gates exist all over the world, constantly spewing out these strange and supernatural aberrations.
The nine sects of Taoists and monks are busy running around trying to catch them, while those wicked bastards whose skulls deserve to be crushed are too busy hindering them or using the beasts to line their own pockets.
At least Zhongnan's old sword ghost cut down the gate in Shaanxi before passing away, but that was clearly an act that defied common sense, so even the Emperor could not fathom what kind of technique he used.
That damn old man. He should have left behind at least a mnemonic before drawing his last breath.
Yeon-shin.
Now, your grandfather is entering the den of those wretched spirit beasts that plague the world. We will likely be out of touch for a long time.
It is to fulfill the duty of the Purple Rank given to this grandfather, but also to find something that will be of help to you. At the very least, I will bring back an armful of inner cores that might extend your lifespan.
Since Yong and this old man will exterminate those non-human things, you must dominate the world.
Take the heads of those who wield their swords recklessly without regard for the law, and crush these troubled times that are rising so fearlessly.
The Purple Rank is the sunset.
It is the color of the western sky that brings an end to this chaotic world.
It is only right that you do it. You can do it.
Also, stay healthy.
The spirit medicine enclosed in the wooden box is a fragment of an Imugi's inner core.
I wished to carve it out whole, but the beast was so slippery and tough that I had no choice but to crush its scales and flesh along with its body. I hope it proves useful to you.]
"……"
Jeong Yeon-shin silently folded the letter and tucked it into his breast pocket. Just then, his fingertips brushed against another small, attached note. Unfolding it, he found a brief piece of advice written there.
[Yeon-shin, I add one more word out of grandfatherly concern.
The Head of the Desolate Ma Clan, the Naraka Reaper, expressed concern about your temperament. This old man barked back, asking who he thought he was to worry about whom, but his words are not entirely without merit.
For a divine sword recognized by the world is acknowledged by all, even if it does not flaunt its own sharp edge.
To speak candidly, I cannot put my mind at ease because you did not inherit the Ma family bloodline through atavism. Accumulate virtue and make many friends. I hope you navigate this dusty Jianghu wisely.]
Jeong Yeon-shin folded the letter ten times over until it was the size of a speck of dust, then slipped it into his pocket. It might have been better if he hadn't opened it at all.
"I won't ask what is written there," Shin So-bin said briefly, having watched him closely.
Her demeanor, however, contradicted her words. The way she swung her calves back and forth beneath her loose white martial uniform made it painfully obvious that she was dying of curiosity.
Jeong Yeon-shin, his face flushing slightly from a sudden surge of irritation, simply nodded. Between the internal and external injuries he had not yet fully healed, he felt a premonition of Qi deviation. He had no intention of answering, even if his chief disciple asked indirectly.
'Once I eat the fruit...'
On the day he no longer had to rely on those around him, the world would witness three generations of the Ma family competing in scholarship and etiquette using the Four Books and Three Classics.
But that put aside the most crucial matter: when on earth would he succeed to the position of Commander of the Divine Sword Corps and claim the fruit?
'When will I reach it?'
It was said to be the everything of the Brightfolk. Yet it felt incredibly distant. Furthermore, the Desolate Fortress was a faction founded alongside the establishment of the nation itself. It possessed rigid procedures and laws accumulated over the passage of time.
Jeong Yeon-shin leaned his back against the carriage wall. Once he met the Grand Overseer this time, he would know exactly how close he was to his goal. For now, it was enough to reflect on the Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing and the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan mentioned in the letter.
"…So-bin, I heard that martial artists from the Namgung Clan came to the Jeong Family Manor?"
"They did, but they didn't follow us. It seems like they've given up for now."
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded at Shin So-bin's carefree reply. The carriage carrying the newly appointed Purple Rank back to the main fortress continued its swift and peaceful journey.
* * *
Dust hung thick in the air.
It was a stretch of land gouged with massive craters. The earth groaned, exhaling a low rumble. Rapid voices exchanged words amidst the smoke.
"We have gathered the relevant information!"
"Report."
"There are records that thirty-six branches of the Blood Flame Cult have been found in ruins. Two of them are suspected to be branches managed by the Sixth Apostle and the Eighth Apostle respectively, but the whereabouts of the branch leaders remain unknown."
"Is this your doing?" asked a figure hidden in the translucent dust. The figure possessed ears as sharp as if they had been ground on a whetstone, and carried both a sword and a bow.
The question was not directed at the subordinate. The mysterious Brightfolk expert's voice crossed a distance of over a hundred paces.
A soft step.
A pair of long legs stepped forward, accompanied by the hem of an intensely red robe.
Her hair fluttered in the backdraft of her Body Protection Scripture, making her look as if she had transcended the mortal realm. It was incredibly dark hair, pitch-black like an empty night sky. In stark contrast, her bewitchingly pale and beautiful face remained vivid even amidst the thick fog. She wore a black eyepatch embroidered with gold thread over one eye, while her uncovered eye was blood-red.
"How do you know all that?" the True Blood Cult Leader asked in return, her entire body shrouded in an aura of transcendence.
The fog passed through her body as if by magic. Even in the hazy space, the True Blood Cult Leader's form stood out with crystal clarity.
Yet, the presence of the figures confronting her was by no means weak. Rather, it could only be described as overwhelming. Not a single one of them showed any sign of intimidation.
"We are of the Ju clan," the Brightfolk expert at the front spoke calmly.
The red corners of the True Blood Cult Leader's mouth curved up slightly.
"No wonder. You are of the imperial family. I have come to the right place." She continued slowly, "You were quite difficult to find."
Her bewitching red eye glanced upward.
There was a fortress.
It was a wall that cast a vast shadow over the True Blood Cult Leader's body at this very moment. It filled her vision with a deep bronze hue and a rough texture, its scale far beyond what human eyes could measure.
It far exceeded the boundaries of human perception. Even its true shape could not be fully discerned.
It was the World Tree.
* * *
Rattle.
The sound of the wheels grew more pronounced.
Jeong Yeon-shin's group had finally crossed Henan and descended into the land of Huguang. From the twilight sky, a night as dark as ebony was falling.
"Hmm...?"
Heonwon Chang, who was leading the way on a fine steed, showed a look of bewilderment. Even though the great city of Xiangyang was close at hand, there was no sign of human life.
Xiangyang, where the Desolate Fortress had taken root, was famous for thriving the more chaotic the world became. Yet, such a secure and grand city was now enveloped in a strange, heavy silence.
No human figures could be seen atop the massive fortress walls visible in the distance. The faces of the Demonlight Wing experts, who had been anticipating a triumphant return ceremony, grew grim.
"Unless the city is dead..." Lazy Flame Dragon muttered.
It was a thought hard for anyone to fathom. There were as many as three Black Ranks who had returned as part of the Desolate Fortress's standing forces: Ak Su-rim, Hahu Wi-jin, and the Commander of the Law Enforcement Unit, Un So-yu. Including the Grand Overseer, a supreme expert renowned for his mastery of both literary and martial arts, there were four Unit Commander-level powerhouses present. Under normal circumstances, it was impossible for them to fall.
"Shall we proceed at full speed?" a Blue Rank expert asked toward the carriage.
Just then, below the hill they had ascended, an incredibly small anomaly occurred. It was something so subtle that only a true expert could discern it.
In the middle of the vast, silent city, a single purple lantern rose into the sky.