Chapter 457: Heaven's Tremor
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 457: Heaven's Tremor
Hangzhou was incredibly vast.
It was so massive, in fact, that it contained three entire post stations within its city walls.
It had not always been this way.
Before the founding of the Ming Dynasty, the cities of Jiaxing and Shaoxing lay to the north and south of Hangzhou. However, during the empire's founding era, they were reduced to ruins in a cataclysmic clash between a mountain-sized entity of the Strange, Violent, Chaotic, and Supernatural and the Brightfolk Imperial Consort of Emperor Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang.
Through this destruction, their remnants were absorbed into Hangzhou.
Furthermore, the seabed bordering the three cities had risen, transforming Hangzhou into an overwhelmingly vast metropolis that dominated Zhejiang Province.
The imperial court chose not to divide the territory into separate prefectures to appease public sentiment. Hangzhou, long famous for its wealth, could not simply be segregated from the neighboring ruins.
In the aftermath of the war, Emperor Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang turned the unified Hangzhou into a prosperous, livable land for all.
And it was because of this boundless expanse that the current Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit could exist here today.
Even while being relentlessly pursued by the martial artists of Heaven's Bane and Taemo Mountain Fortress, he was able to roam freely. The sheer, unprecedented scale of Hangzhou made it possible.
Step.
A wet footprint was left behind.
This was the pier—the very site where absolute masters of the Jianghu, including Jeong Yeon-shin, had clashed. A crowd had gathered like clouds.
Swordsmen scoured the area, hoping to glean even a trace of peerless sword techniques. Poets and scholars had traveled here simply because they heard that peak experts of the Jianghu, known to them only through rumors, had stayed here. Idlers wandered in search of rare spectacles, flanked by numerous escort warriors. Amidst the throng, merchants kept their purses tightly secured while hawking pancakes and sweets.
The clamor of voices was deafening, and street vendors, wary of robbery, called out to customers with caution. The gentle sound of lapping waves mingled with the chaotic noise.
Few among the crowd were ordinary folk. Unless they were desperately starving, true commoners knew better than to put themselves in harm's way.
"Did the heavenly gods really trade blows here?"
"Look at how cleanly the pier is sliced. That must be the shockwave unleashed by the Lord of Heaven's Bane. You know, the one... the one that supposedly sent the Lotus Nezha's divine sword flying all the way into the city center..."
"So that's what happened!"
"Sweets, buy some sweets! I have rare sweets here...!"
Shin Hwang, the Silent Dawn Lord, stood quietly amidst the crowd.
A travel pack hung over one shoulder, and he wore a common yellow robe.
His long, lean limbs were exposed beneath the coarse hem of his clothes. It was the distinct physique of an internal cultivation expert accustomed to prolonged combat.
His face was hidden beneath a straw hat, its wide brim casting a deep shadow over his features.
Shin Hwang had no aversion to disguises; to him, the success of the mission was the sole priority.
Although the Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit of the Divine Sword Corps was famous in the martial world as a symbol of the Desolate Fortress's lofty dignity, he had never particularly cared about keeping up appearances during his travels in the Jianghu.
In truth, he was utterly indifferent to such matters.
His thoughts turned to the Flash Art.
The boy he had watched since his days as a green, young White Rank.
Back then, a fierce competition had broken out among the Unit Commanders over Namgung Hwa-shin, who already held the title of White Qilin, and Jeong Yeon-shin, a boy said to possess unbelievable talent.
It was a duel that served as both a wager and training.
The now-deceased former Commander of the Heaven-Aligned Wing, Ha Do-un, had defeated the Commander of the Azure Sky Unit by a mere half-move to claim Namgung Hwa-shin.
Meanwhile, Ma Jin, the Naraka Reaper, had maintained a solemn face while using a provocation typical of the Desolate Ma Clan to shake the composure of the Commander of the Law Enforcement Unit, Un So-yu, securing his own victory.
The result of that victory was Jeong Yeon-shin joining the Demonlight Wing.
Shin Hwang had not participated in the competition. He was content with his existing comrades. After all, of all the martial units in the Divine Sword Corps, the Thread-Annihilation Unit boasted the highest survival rate.
Ma Jin, the Naraka Reaper, was merely a genius of chaotic brawls; he had no idea how to properly teach his subordinates to carry out missions safely.
'I should have taken him that day.'
Jeong Yeon-shin, the Flash Art.
Shin Hwang had found him strange from the very first moment they met. In the face of that young White Rank, he had caught a fleeting glimpse of familiar features.
Only later did he learn who Jeong Yeon-shin's mother was. She was Ma Yeon-sang of the Desolate Ma Clan—a woman with whom he had been in marriage talks over a decade ago.
The prestigious families under the Desolate Fortress—including the Ma, Shin, Hahu, and the Un clan of the Law Enforcement Unit Commander—had long betrothed their children to one another across generations.
It was a simple method to preserve their martial talent, and the sworn duty of those born into the prominent families of the main fortress. The marriage between Shin Hwang and Ma Yeon-sang, whose ages overlapped slightly, had been treated almost as a foregone conclusion.
—"Tell them to go to hell. I'm not doing it."
—"Is a marriage with me so disagreeable to you?"
—"It's the arranged marriage itself that I hate. I'm going to go out into the world, look around, and if I happen to find someone who catches my eye, I'll make him my partner. You, Brother Shin, are just an older brother to me."
Her temperament was better suited for the battlefields of Beijing.
Ma Yeon-sang had argued with her own father with the fierce spirit of a grand general commanding the imperial army.
She had dared to raise her voice against Ma Yeon-jeok, the Hegemon Hero. The Desolate Fortress had been incredibly quiet that day.
Throughout all of this, Shin Hwang had not taken any action. If the marriage fell through, he was perfectly fine with it.
Even in his youth, long before he earned the title of Silent Dawn Lord, he was already married to the martial path.
Yet, it wasn't that he was entirely devoid of affection.
It would be more accurate to say he felt a lingering sense of responsibility.
Whenever his missions took him to Henan Province, he would make a detour to pass by Xinye County, even if only to watch from afar. Shin Hwang was far freer than Ma Jin, who, as a direct descendant, was bound tightly to the clan's affairs.
About once every ten visits, he would catch sight of Ma Yeon-sang. She looked happy alongside a man whose face was as dazzling as the sword strikes of the Lord of the Desolate Fortress.
That had been enough.
After Ma Yeon-sang passed away, Shin Hwang stopped visiting Xinye County.
He had no expectations for the martial talent of the Jeong Family Head, and above all, the quiet affection he harbored had only extended as far as Ma Yeon-sang herself.
This remained true even after Jeong Yeon-shin's identity was revealed.
When the boy was a Blue and White Rank, he was a promising subordinate; at Black Rank, a highly talented colleague; and upon reaching Purple Rank, the next Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.
Shin Hwang's attitude had been simple and detached.
At least, it was until he witnessed the death of the Wudang Sect's Perfected Ancient Sword.
—"I saw Perfected Zhang Sanfeng in that child. Of course, I have never personally met our sect's founder, but you know how it is. Sometimes, when practicing secret martial arts, you can occasionally feel the presence of the sect's ancestors. I felt a similar flash of brilliance from the new Purple Rank."
Those were the words the old Taoist had spoken while struggling to keep the common folk away from the inhuman sorcerers of Taemo Mountain Fortress.
—"The Divine Sword Corps of the Desolate Fortress must live for that child. Though I was the one who gave the new Purple Rank the title of Wilderness Sunfall, my greatest hope was that a child destined to hold this chaotic world firmly in his grasp through martial arts would not go astray. Ah, the story behind the title is a secret, so take it to your grave."
The Perfected Ancient Sword had said that while he himself was worth two people with his Nascent Soul, the new Purple Rank would one day be worth four of him.
He had added that a boy who so clearly starved for affection should not have to witness any more deaths of those around him.
—"This presence... the Lord of Heaven's Bane is coming as well. He will arrive in less than fifteen minutes."
—"If we join forces, we will win. Cast aside your pride."
—"Pride? Well... but what of those commoners? I am sorry to say this, but unlike mine, your martial arts are not restrained. If you clash with a peerless expert, the collateral damage will be immense. And if I were to use my sect's Wudang Cloud-Ladder Step to flee, the First Sword of the Outer Paths would surely slaughter everyone here just to draw this old man out. I should have come with the other sect leaders in the first place... but too many things have gone awry."
—"Perfected One."
There was no falsehood in his words.
But Shin Hwang was the Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit. He was, in other words, a sword of the nation. He knew that the life of a single Black Rank was equivalent to thousands of commoners.
For someone of the Perfected Ancient Sword's caliber, that worth might exceed ten thousand. How immense was the power and sheer number of the Strange, Violent, Chaotic, and Supernatural that the Nine Sects held back every year?
The Nine Sects appeared to live leisurely in the mountains, but they were by no means free.
—"As you know, is Wudang not exceptionally close to the imperial court? I even know what questions and answers were exchanged between the Emperor and the Wilderness Sunfall when he ascended to Purple Rank. Yes, the Emperor asked the child what kind of will he would establish as the sword of the nation. I heard the new Purple Rank's answer to that single question was not very long. But it aligns perfectly with what this old man wishes to tell you now."
At that moment, the Perfected Ancient Sword was laughing more cheerfully than ever before.
A peerless hero produced by Wudang. In the features of the boy who had undergone Rejuvenation, one could glimpse the wizened old man who had weathered a chaotic age.
—"Do not compromise."
—"..."
The Perfected Ancient Sword had added one last thing. Ten lives are no different from ten thousand; that is the weight of human life. In the end, he was telling Shin Hwang to cherish what was right before his eyes.
The old Taoist of Wudang was truly a man of the Way, yet he had also been infinitely close to being a true martial artist.
—"Now, go."
With the memory of the Perfected Ancient Sword's final words, Shin Hwang snapped out of his reminiscence. Only then did the voices of the crowd pierce his ears once more.
"I hear the Lotus Pavilion is still crowded?"
"Of course it is. The Divine Doctor himself has been staying in Hangzhou for days now. People are grasping at straws."
"But even so, I heard he won't even take your pulse unless you pass his test. How is that a doctor?"
"Shh, watch your mouth! How can you speak so carelessly of someone whom even the Thirteen Heavens dare not touch...!"
Shin Hwang turned away in silence.
He did not believe Jeong Yeon-shin was truly dead. Both the will of the Perfected Ancient Sword and Shin Hwang's own quiet hopes pointed toward the survival of the Wilderness Sunfall.
However, even if he were alive, his body would likely not be intact. He might have lost an arm, or perhaps his consciousness was fading.
'I will move under the assumption that he is alive.'
Step.
He slowly walked away. He headed toward the Lotus Pavilion of Hangzhou, where the world's greatest Divine Doctor was staying, hoping against hope that he was not mistaken.
* * *
Taemo Mountain Fortress widely publicized the death of Jeong Yeon-shin.
Spreading news was child's play for those who practiced sorcery martial arts.
With a single sheet of Sophora Paper, they could project their voices all day or even create clones.
They could even fashion messenger pigeons out of the enchanted paper. In such mysterious and miscellaneous arts, no great sect could compare to them.
On the other hand, Heaven's Bane maintained a strict silence.
Those who studied the sword under the First Sword of the Outer Paths never spoke casually among the crowds.
They merely roamed the streets with haughty indifference, hunting for orthodox martial artists.
The members of the Thirteen Heavens who moved actively and noisily through Hangzhou were mostly sorcerers, their hair bound up in translucent mesh headbands like Taoists.
"Do not come any closer."
The scene unfolded in a marketplace located in Open-Sea County of Hangzhou Prefecture.
The center of the crowd, which filled the spacious open ground like gathering clouds, was completely hollowed out. About twenty sorcerers from Taemo Mountain Fortress had formed a circular formation to keep the onlookers at bay.
Normally, no one would dare approach the martial artists of the Thirteen Heavens, but Taemo Mountain Fortress had deliberately used their sorcery martial arts to perform all kinds of rare tricks, fostering a deceptively lighthearted atmosphere.
They had drawn in onlookers by setting off sparks and drawing ethereal cranes and deer with pale light.
In the center of the clearing, a single sword was thrust into the ground.
From hilt to blade, it gleamed with a brilliant silver light, appearing extraordinary even to a layman's eyes.
Sunlight shimmered brightly along the wavy patterns running up and down the blade. It was enough for anyone to recognize it as a divine sword. Even the two characters neatly engraved on one side of the guard looked auspicious.
The calligraphy was clean, as if carved with the utmost sincerity using robust internal power.
"The Magic Sword: Lingering Thunder."
The speaker sat atop a palanquin carried by the sorcery martial artists.
A boy with long ears and a slender jaw scanned the crowd as he spoke.
It was Cho Il-seo, the Great-Reed Arts Champion, who had become the young fortress lord after losing his father, the Great Black Divine Beast Cho Pae-gwang. He was the exact same age as the deceased Lotus Nezha.
"This is proof that even a Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress could do nothing against our fortress."
His words caused those knowledgeable about the world's affairs to exchange wary glances. Even if Cho Il-seo was famous as a genius who wielded thunderous martial arts, it was still an incredibly bold claim.
Even the grandson whom the Dark Sky Emperor had obtained so late in life was nothing compared to a Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress.
Although martial artists of the Desolate Fortress were dying in all sorts of places, it was a completely different story when their rank was Black or Purple.
And this time, the culprit was clear. A Purple Rank, in particular, held a status more noble than most imperial family members of the Zhu clan.
Such was their standing in the Jianghu and their perception among the common people. The imperial court would also protect them, directly or indirectly.
To speak of them so lightly meant one might face dire consequences someday.
In the vast city of Hangzhou, those who had traveled from afar after hearing the rumors whispered cautiously to one another.
"Should we go back now...?"
"Are you sure the soldiers here are siding with the Thirteen Heavens? This is highly unsettling. They say they hid that sword for a long time and only suddenly brought it out for everyone to see today."
"I think it would be better to wash my ears and just go to sleep..."
"It looks plausible on the outside... but I'm not sure if it's really the sword left behind by the Lotus Nezha. What if I brag about seeing it somewhere and end up making a fool of myself?"
Such remarks were only possible because the atmosphere had relaxed significantly. However, even though they lowered their voices as much as they could, it was utterly meaningless to internal cultivation experts.
Cho Il-seo, looking down at the crowd, twitched his brow.
'Insignificant wretches.'
He was strictly carrying out his grandfather's orders. The instruction was to block the entry of ignorant commoners into Hangzhou, while drawing in as many Jianghu martial artists as possible.
Even though Cho Il-seo did not fully understand the reasoning, he went along with it. It was enough for him to humiliate the culprit who had killed his father.
It was also a prime opportunity to solidify his position as the new young fortress lord.
"You there."
He pointed at a youth in the crowd who appeared to be around his own age. The young man had a slightly youthful face and a tall, striking stature.
"Try pulling it out."
"..."
"The spirituality of the deceased Wilderness Sunfall is mixed into this magic sword. You can think of it as a bizarre, lingering malice. Because of that, a mysterious harmony has fused the sword to the earth... You will never be able to pull it out, and that is the very proof that this magic sword is Lingering Thunder. I heard from some Ironfolk that it is a blade steeped in the resentment of the Sichuan Tang Clan's Dragon-Phoenix Twin Poisons."
Cho Il-seo adjusted his smooth black sleeves. By the time he finished speaking, he wasn't even looking at the youth.
He questioned whether there was truly any need for him to personally attend to such trivial matters. He had far more important things to do.
'The very air of Hangzhou is changing...'
Widely publicizing the death of the Wilderness Sunfall, Jeong Yeon-shin.
It was a direct instruction from the Dark Sky Emperor, independent of Cho Il-seo's own desires, and served as a form of provocation. The Lord of Taemo Mountain Fortress truly wished for as many internal qi experts as possible to enter Hangzhou.
A massive, anticipated backlash might be looming.
Already, news had arrived that flags representing the 17th Unit of the Divine Sword Corps had been spotted in several nearby areas.
Along with this came information that unfamiliar martial artists had entered Hangzhou. Among them were sketches of individuals whose attire held absolutely no connection to the Desolate Fortress.
'I need to wrap up this trivial matter quickly... In the first place, isn't it enough just to plant shills in the crowd?'
Cho Il-seo raised his chin slightly.
"Do you lack the courage to draw the sword because it is a relic of the deceased? If so, then someone else—"
"A relic...?"
The youth who had been singled out cut Cho Il-seo off.
As he slowly stepped forward, not a single sound could be heard—not even when his leather boots touched the ground. Likewise, there was not a single trace of his presence.
Whoosh—
Only a dusty wind swept across the ground.