Chapter 476: Boundless
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 476: Boundless
“……”
The experts of Taemo Mountain Fortress, who had been chanting mantras without pause, abruptly fell silent. Perfected Clear Water and Ak Su-rim were no different.
They turned their gazes, freezing mid-action. Just moments ago, they had been driving swords through the living corpses animated by Maoshan Sect sorcery and smashing the sorcerers' heads with spear shafts.
It was a Great Sect War of an incredibly rare scale.
Although the battlefield would inevitably erupt again, these powerhouses—renowned as eccentrics throughout the Jianghu—halted their attacks for a brief moment. They had stopped the exact second a colossal shockwave blasted that massive, scaly body backward.
The Flood Dragon had been repelled by a single blow.
The significance of this was immense. It proved that a human practicing martial arts could stand against a walking natural disaster.
The Dark Sky Emperor had long since been swept away, vanishing into the typhoon-like shockwave of the fist strike that had just erupted. It was only natural. He had been caught completely off guard by the joint attack of peerless masters. Even for the Dark Sky Emperor, who had forcibly squeezed out his Nascent Soul despite being a dead man, returning to the battlefield would take time.
Flutter!
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been suspended upside down in midair, flipped right-side up. His wide sleeves snapped with the sudden movement. Against the heavily darkened sky, his robe took on a deep, striking indigo hue.
His gaze was distant.
'It's not enough.'
He slowly clenched and unclenched his hand.
Wuuung—
A faint tremor rippled across the lines of his palm—the lingering aftershock of that single blow.
He hadn't unleashed that strike alone. Right below him, Abbot Beomheo—who had conjured a pair of brilliant golden arms—was just straightening his posture after his own attack. The abbot had layered a truly monstrous shockwave from his Hundred-Step Divine Fist behind Jeong Yeon-shin's strike, acting as a propulsive force.
“…Amitabha.”
The old monk exhaled a hollow breath.
Not a single shred of wasted energy radiated from the current Shaolin Abbot. He was perfectly serene, to the point where the concepts of Vajra and Immovable naturally came to mind.
The force behind the Hundred-Step Divine Fist was far more refined than Jeong Yeon-shin's own blow. The sheer volume of accumulated Qi was on an entirely different level.
'Shaolin.'
The home of the Great Restoration Pill.
Guuuung—
In Jeong Yeon-shin's field of vision, the Flood Dragon was already righting its twisted head. A heavy sound of tearing air rumbled like a storm; it looked as if a sheer, bluish cliff were shifting in the sky.
He had to push further.
He sensed a profound wall in Abbot Beomheo's technique—the seamless flow of dodging like water before instantly driving in an offensive strike. The internal energy operation that naturally amplified a massive force-release (Fa Jin). Jeong Yeon-shin wasn't confident he could surpass the abbot in those simple, fundamental techniques. It was a sheer matter of attainment.
'I must catch up.'
And it was possible now, with the Fan Dragon Lotus Art active.
Jeong Yeon-shin slightly parted his lips.
"Lady Yul-ha."
"Yes, Yeon-shin."
The reply came instantly, carrying an incredibly warm, familiar tone. Down on the ground, Lady Yul-ha was currently flicking her sword with a grand, sweeping motion.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced down.
The light pink sleeves of the Mount Hua Sect Leader fluttered upward, mingling with fragments of crimson energy. Her posture was truly that of a descending immortal. The subtle aura of the West Peak Mount Hua, renowned for its fierce sharpness, radiated from her.
"About that sword barrier," Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly, locking eyes with the Flood Dragon as it began to stare straight back at him.
Lady Yul-ha's Unified Martial Transcendence.
'Crimson Horizon...'
A world-shakingly massive sword barrier had pushed the entire Flood Dragon back. It had perfectly absorbed the shockwave of Jeong Yeon-shin's fist strike. It was a technique worthy of being called a monumental feat.
If he had unleashed his fist strike alone, it would have merely bent the dragon's long body here and there. There was a limit to what he could achieve by himself.
"I shouldn't expect it again, should I?"
As soon as Jeong Yeon-shin asked the question, he began devising another method. That was, until a soft chuckle echoed in his ear.
“You still do not know me.”
Lady Yul-ha's voice drifted to him like falling petals, carrying an unspoken promise that he would learn in due time. Soon after, lifting her heels with a soft rustle, she floated slowly into the air, arriving at Jeong Yeon-shin's left side.
“Mount Hua is a mountain of stone, and the Purple Mist Divine Art is a tree rooted in that rock. Just as it firmly anchors my essence and spirit, the Plum Blossom Sword moves I unleash in a single breath will always remain within my grasp, so long as my energy permits.”
Her words were esoteric, fitting for a Taoist. However, Jeong Yeon-shin understood immediately. It meant she could perform Unified Martial Transcendence as many times as she wished, provided her True Qi held out.
It completely defied common sense. Was this the true foundation of a thousand-year-old orthodox sect?
'By what principle...?'
He couldn't help but wonder, if only for a brief moment. Perhaps sensing his thoughts, Lady Yul-ha's eyes curved into a gentle smile.
She did not elaborate further on the Crimson Horizon, however.
“Of course, I cannot unleash them continuously like a chain formation. You will have to guard my breathing... Can you do that?”
Rustle.
Suddenly, a wrinkled Buddhist robe blocked their view. Abbot Beomheo had appeared out of nowhere, sitting cross-legged in the sky. At the same time, a low, resonant hum vibrated through the air.
A faint golden light seeped from the hem of his deep orange kasaya, resembling the divine aura of a Buddha. It was the energy of the Marrow Washing Classic, said to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic.
The very foundation of all martial arts under heaven lay right there.
“From what this old monk has experienced,” the aged voice flowed plainly from the old monk's back, “spiritual beasts with powerful minds, like that Flood Dragon, do not distinguish between a human and a stone.”
Behind him, Jeong Yeon-shin flinched slightly. Perhaps thinking the newly promoted Purple Rank was feeling pressured, Lady Yul-ha gently squeezed his shoulder and offered him a warm smile.
Abbot Beomheo continued.
“Furthermore, it was dragged down by Cho Yeol's great technique while in a state of stupor. Even if it recovers its sanity, this land will not escape its wrath.”
Rumble!
Suddenly, a roar like a boiling volcano erupted from within the Flood Dragon's maw. A wave of heat that felt as if it would slice their skin to ribbons washed over them.
Soon, Abbot Beomheo's voice, channeled through the Six Harmonies Sound Transmission, began to overlap in layers like an echoing bell.
[As Benefactor Jeong said.]
He seemed to be preparing something. Jeong Yeon-shin, locking eyes with Lady Yul-ha, moved past Abbot Beomheo as he listened to the continuing transmission.
[Pushing that body further back is our first priority. Only after that should we open the path of slaughter.]
He was speaking of the Flood Dragon's death.
Was such a thing even possible? Jeong Yeon-shin questioned it for a moment, but soon realized the truth. It was not a matter of possibility, but of absolute necessity. It was the exact mindset that the sword of a nation ought to possess.
[However, we must assign roles. A vanguard to lead the offensive, someone to bolster the joint attack...]
The abbot advised against facing the Flood Dragon's supernatural powers head-on. It was a reasonable point.
There was no reason to use a frail human body to directly clash with an attack akin to a natural disaster. It was far wiser to focus on maintaining the offensive while relying on the unique Body Protection Scripture of a peerless master.
Just like right now.
Crash!
A sea of crimson fire spread beneath the trio as they kicked off the empty air. In an instant, the surrounding atmosphere warped translucently, and the rapidly expanding heat pushed violently against the soles of Jeong Yeon-shin's feet.
It was the Flood Dragon's breath.
Whoosh!
Even though he had cleanly dodged by soaring upward, his balance wavered. A sizzling mist began to rise in the air, obscuring his vision. The energy carried by the flames was so fierce that it was difficult to steady himself, even with the Void Treading movement technique.
Jeong Yeon-shin made up his mind.
“Please move as you wish, both of you.”
Before anyone realized it, Lingering Thunder was gripped firmly in his hand. The silver wave patterns running down the long blade emitted a soft glow, piercing through the air dyed crimson by the fiery tempest.
“I will coordinate the flow of the battlefield.”
He spoke calmly, standing among peerless masters at the absolute peak of the Jianghu.
Taking command like this was impossible for anyone except a martial artist aiming for Absolute Perfection in every aspect. In that instant, Lady Yul-ha's eyelashes fluttered slightly, and Abbot Beomheo gave a silent nod.
He would suppress every single variable.
It was nothing short of absolute dominance. Such was the temperament of the Desolate Fortress.
*
The ground had long since been dyed in gloomy shadows, and blue lightning flickered across the sea of dark clouds above.
Despite it being winter, the air had grown stiflingly humid. The rumbling of thunder sounded like the distant roar of a wild beast.
The wide marketplace was as silent as death.
A stall displaying carved wooden toys and sweet pastries cracked with a sharp sound. The damp wooden boards and the tiny droplets of water lining the clay-colored surface looked eerily like dragon scales.
Yet, not a single merchant looked down at their wares.
The passersby were the same.
“…….”
A crowd from all walks of life stared up at the sky, but not a single person dared to open their mouth. The martial artists with swords at their waists were no different. Every single one of them wore a completely dumbfounded expression.
The crowd essentially split into three. Some commoners hurriedly ran into their homes and slammed their doors shut, others stood blankly in the marketplace, and the rest rushed to flee the city.
Mixed within this chaotic crowd were Heonwon Chang and Shin So-bin.
“Don't look back.”
“How can I not look? The Purple Rank's Jianghu that I've only ever heard about from my grandfather is right there...”
“You said it yourself. This isn't a place where a title like the Blood-Net Radiant Empress holds any weight. What, are you going to step on thin air and climb up there like our Lord Jeong? Forget it. Even if you could, you'd be lucky not to lose your footing on the way up. Turn left.”
“Why are you using your tongue like a sword on me? Do you want to get hit by your junior, Senior?”
“The hierarchy of our fortress and the dignity of prestigious families have truly fallen to the ground... Right here.”
“We're both Blue Ranks now, so what hierarchy? Have you ever seen Senior Bukgung, the Lord of the Wish-Fulfilling Spring, show manners to the other Black Rank seniors?”
“It seems the White Cat is turning into a tiger. Are you going through a rebellious phase too...? Let's turn left.”
“I'm perfectly fine. The Thunder Sword has entered three hundred paces to the southeast.”
“What, already...?”
Over the shoulders of the two as they wove through the crowd with swift, natural movements, a massive body reminiscent of the Great Wall of the North loomed in the distance, shrouded in mist.
The Flood Dragon had manifested between heaven and earth. Without any exaggeration, it was large enough to easily cover the entirety of the West Lake. Naturally, it was impossible to miss.
The same went for the figures surrounding that colossal body in midair, unleashing their attacks.
Though they were extremely faint, each time the Flood Dragon was pushed back, their silhouettes could be briefly identified. The energy enveloping each of their bodies was simply that dense.
Clang! Crash!
The roaring sounds born from the shockwaves echoed faintly across the city.
There was nothing in the world to compare it to. It was literally peerless—a battle between those who had few equals in the current world.
Heonwon Chang and Shin So-bin forced themselves to look away from the spectacle.
Their battlefield lay elsewhere. They had to prevent Jeong Yeon-shin from being held back by any unnecessary trouble.
Although martial artists from other sects—who had even activated their eye techniques to watch—were groaning in awe all around them, it was best to ignore them entirely.
“A joint attack by the Shaolin Abbot and the Mount Hua Sect Leader... It seems we aren't seeing things...”
“Is it really them?”
“I can't see clearly. But it's a monk and a Taoist. Who else could it be?”
“The Dark Sky Emperor has finally defied heaven...”
Crash!
In an instant, a monstrous roar swept through heaven and earth, and an invisible shockwave brushed against their skin, lifting the hair of the crowd.
Soon after, exclamations erupted from all sides, the onlookers claiming that Abbot Beomheo and Lady Yul-ha had somehow moved and blasted the dragon far away.
These were the words of those whose eyes simply could not keep up with the movements of peerless masters.
No mention was made of the young man in the purple robe.
Heonwon Chang had witnessed Jeong Yeon-shin's fist strike push back the Flood Dragon at the very beginning, but there was no way the eye techniques of rogue cultivators or local martial artists could have activated quickly enough to see it.
The commoners of Hangzhou were, of course, completely oblivious.
“Those Heaven's Bane bastards,” Heonwon Chang grumbled, quickening his pace. A literal disaster had descended upon the earth. He had to somehow shake off the tension sending icy shivers down his spine. “If their sect leader vanished, they should just assume he died in some ditch. They don't even have the guts to ask our Lord Jeong directly... Hm? Why are you...”
Turning around, Heonwon Chang's eyes fell upon Shin So-bin.
She stood completely frozen, her mouth slightly agape. Beneath her sharply cut short hair, her blue robe fluttered helplessly in the wind.
“The portraits.” Her lips trembled.
“What?”
“Give me the portraits. The ones of the Thirteen Heavens Lords.”
She was not her usual self. Something was terribly off. Without asking further, Heonwon Chang quickly rummaged through his robes, only to freeze at her bewildered murmur.
“Why is the Prince of Dali here...?”
Her voice was laced with extreme tension. The 'Prince of Dali' referred to the direct bloodline of a fallen kingdom. In other words, it also meant the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect.
Before he knew it, Shin So-bin was tightly gripping her sword.