Chapter 479: Boundless (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 479: Boundless (4)
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded slightly. The insight of the martial world's most renowned high monk was profound indeed.
To not limit his life-saving technique—one that might only be used once in a life-or-death battle—to Enter the Way: Unified Transcendence. This was something he had already been considering, even before he crossed swords with the Lord of Heaven's Bane.
There was no telling how the nature of his future battles might change. After all, he was a martial artist of the Desolate Fortress.
But...
Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his gaze, his eyes reflecting Abbot Beomheo. The old monk’s eyelids were half-closed, his face entirely devoid of expression. He looked like a guardian deity protecting the Buddhist Dharma.
Though he didn't emit a single thread of energy, he carried a weight that made it feel as if he held the entire world within his body. A faint, whitish mist pressed downward, constrained entirely to his immediate vicinity.
Seamless Heavenly Robe.
His control over his energy was flawless.
Just how ascetically had he devoted himself to his cultivation? The faint heat radiating from the Flood Dragon's scales was quiet at this moment, likely because the Great Prajna Power had completely penetrated the body of this living natural disaster.
He was wielding the power of the Muscle Tendon Changing and Marrow Washing Classic—a technique synonymous with invincibility ever since its creation by Bodhidharma—refined to the hardness of a diamond.
The number one expert of the Orthodox Faction.
He was the undisputed Mt. Tai of the Orthodox Martial World, an absolute master whom countless orthodox martial artists looked to as their spiritual anchor. There was no reason for such a man to hint at his own death.
"I do not understand your intentions, Abbot. Why are you giving me such advice now, of all times?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked, lightly running his fingertips over the hilt of Lingering Thunder.
Abbot Beomheo, now completely immersed in Clear Mirror, Still Water, looked like a plaster statue. Perhaps because he was fully absorbed in his Buddhist divine art, his expression was utterly blank.
His wrinkled lips moved only when he spoke.
"Listen closely. Third, there are connections." The old monk slowly continued his advice. "The affairs of the martial world are, in the end, matters between people. Even peerless martial artists who seek the martial apex are bound by all sorts of connections and memories. This is true for an eccentric like the Lord of Heaven's Bane, and it is true for that inhuman being, the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect. Even the Fighting God of the North does not hesitate to tarnish his own honor for the sake of his clan. That is likely why he is called the Fighting God, rather than the Martial God."
"...I fail to see what use those things are at this point. Are we not standing on the scales of a Flood Dragon right now? We may call them eccentrics or inhuman, but I wonder if a world of non-human entities is about to arrive..."
"Do not think such thoughts. You must live in the martial world of humans," Abbot Beomheo quietly cut Jeong Yeon-shin off. "Our mountain sects, known as the Nine Sects, and some of the martial units of the Desolate Fortress's Divine Sword Corps are blocking the unseen gates, but that is the role originally assigned to them. Furthermore, extraordinary Taoists and monks have, since ancient times, existed to suppress such bizarre phenomena. Due to a promise made with Emperor Taizu of Ming, the monks and Taoists of the Nine Sects have long acted as shamans to prevent all kinds of supernatural disasters. That is why they rarely intervene in secular affairs."
"..."
"You are overwhelmingly young compared to the other leaders of the Desolate Fortress." The old monk’s voice continued in a low murmur. "It is only right that you remain in the secular world and deal with human affairs. Why do you think the Nine Sects did not ask for your help today when they went to stop the Dark Sky Emperor's Dragon Summoning Formula? The Nine Sects are ritual implements used when the nation performs a shamanic ritual. You, on the other hand, are a sword meant to slay humans. I assure you, starting tomorrow, this land will not drag you into the midst of spirit beasts and demons. The Nine Sects will be much more vigilant."
Wudang, Emei, Diancang, Kongtong, Mount Heng.
These were the great sects whose leaders had not traveled to Hangzhou. And since the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan had passed away after slashing the 'gate,' the remaining disciples of Zhongnan were currently rebuilding their sect nearby.
Among them was his niece, Jeong Hye, and it was said that the Cloud Sword Dragon Wiji Myo-hwa, with whom Jeong Yeon-shin shared a deep bond, had taken the seat of the Zhongnan Sect Leader.
Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin recalled his maternal grandfather's letter.
— The Dragon Clan and this old man will annihilate the non-human things, so you must dominate the world.
They were saying the exact same thing. It was not simply because Abbot Beomheo and his grandfather were of the same generation. It was because they shared the same heart that embraced both the world and Jeong Yeon-shin.
Jeong Yeon-shin agreed in his heart.
However, he still did not understand what Abbot Beomheo intended to do about the current situation in Hangzhou. Was it not already slipping out of human hands?
Whoosh—
Suddenly, a wind blew. It was a gentle breeze that tickled the skin, descending transparently like a skein of thread to form a wall between the old monk and the youth. Despite the dizzying height, the wind felt serene.
"...I understand what you mean, Abbot."
Rustle.
At Jeong Yeon-shin's words, his purple sleeves fluttering gently, Abbot Beomheo slowly nodded.
"Yes, it is enough for you to cherish your secular connections. The bonds between people are tougher than any force. Whether they are ill-fated or blessed, remember well that 'connections' can overcome natural disasters and even make calamity itself waver."
Wudang and Shaolin.
Unified Martial Transcendence.
Connections.
The Shaolin Abbot had thus passed on three things.
[Beomheo.]
The figure leaning against the massive Flood Dragon's brow straightened up. Clad in a pure white robe woven of thick fur, his form was that of bones even whiter than the fabric. It was the Dark Sky Emperor, who had somehow manifested his Nascent Soul once again.
Earlier, Jeong Yeon-shin had toyed with Lingering Thunder upon seeing the bone dust gather, but he had remained still because Abbot Beomheo, who must have sensed the presence, hadn't stopped talking.
[What are you thinking?] the Dark Sky Emperor asked slowly.
Soon, Abbot Beomheo and the Dark Sky Emperor locked eyes. The old monk’s lips moved slowly.
"What is your purpose, Senior?"
[To confirm.]
"What?"
[Whether true Feathered Ascension exists in this world.]
For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin's fingertips twitched slightly against the hilt of Lingering Thunder, but the two old masters continued their conversation.
"What do you intend to do once you know?"
[I will find my own way to enter the Immortal Realm. Do not misunderstand. I have no interest in this filthy land.]
"The world after death is not something the living can confirm."
[Do you say that even while conversing with a skeleton?]
The Dark Sky Emperor spoke in an archaic manner. As befitted an old master known to be the oldest in the world, his speech and behavior were classical.
"You are still a living person, Senior. That body is merely a Nascent Soul as well. If you truly have no lingering attachment to the secular world, withdraw the Flood Dragon. Otherwise, you will constantly face challenges like this."
[Challenges?]
"There are many strong experts in the world."
[Of course, I must bear all of that. There is still much I do not know. Right now, I must find out where this Flood Dragon was drawn from. The answer might lie there.]
"And what happens if this spirit beast regains its senses?"
[Then that would simply be the end of my lifespan.]
Stepping soundlessly, the Dark Sky Emperor floated into the air. It was an incredibly natural display of Void Treading. Soon, deep blue flames flared within his eye sockets as he looked down at Abbot Beomheo and Jeong Yeon-shin.
There was no limit to the energy he had gathered.
It seemed he intended to prolong the fight indefinitely.
Sliiiide.
Abbot Beomheo stood up without another word. Perhaps sensing that there was no room for compromise, the air suddenly settled with a heavy thud.
At the same time, golden arms materialized once again, sprouting from both sides of the Shaolin Abbot's shoulders. They began to distort the surroundings, emitting faint smoke like a temple's incense burner.
Though the energy was not Dharma Power, it possessed a divine quality. Jeong Yeon-shin stared blankly at Abbot Beomheo and spoke.
"Abbot."
"Speak."
"You told me to hold connections in high regard."
"I certainly did," the old monk replied, as if imparting a final request.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded.
"If that is the case, shouldn't I also hold you in high regard, Abbot?"
He spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, but the expressionless face of Abbot Beomheo, which had resembled a Buddhist statue until then, cracked for the first time. The wrinkled lips of the current Shaolin Abbot curled up slightly.
"...You are young. So very young."
It was then.
Rumble! Crash!
With a sound of tearing air that shook the very earth, something streaked across the distant sky.
It approached at a terrifying speed, sending out broad, whitish shockwaves with heavy thuds at every moment. It carried an aura that felt as if thunder itself had taken the form of a swordsman.
Just as Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes widened slightly, the figure hurtling through the sky slammed into the Flood Dragon's torso in an instant. From that tiny point of impact, a faint circular wave rippled outward, immediately exploding into dozens of layers.
CRACK!
It was the sound of scales shattering into pieces.
It felt as if the status of the Flood Dragon, which had been drifting through the sky like a dream, had been dragged down to the earth in an instant. The figure, having pierced completely through the dragon's massive body, emerged on the other side, unleashing a monstrous roar.
It was accompanied by the Flood Dragon's blood, pouring down like a torrential waterfall.
A wild gale immediately swept through.
Whoosh!
It was due to the suction force generated by that single strike. The clear river water swirled and was pulled up into the air for a brief moment, and a portion of the dark clouds covering the sky dispersed, allowing beams of bright sunlight to pierce through.
The foam splashing up from the water's surface became trapped in the rising and falling air currents, floating suspended in midair.
The wave generated by the sword strike's Fa Jin.
It was, quite literally, an overwhelming shockwave.
In the center of it all, a figure holding a massive greatsword pointed downward stood upon a floating shard of scale.
"...It works."
The voice was deep, as if echoing from a cave, but the pronunciation was somewhat slurred. It gave the impression that he had spoken aloud on purpose, even though there was no need to.
An incredibly tyrannical strike, executed with a ruthlessness that showed utter disregard for whether the Flood Dragon woke up or not. It was a sudden, chaotic intervention.
"Amitabha."
[...Is this also the challenge Beomheo spoke of? The martial arts of this era have filled heaven and earth. The time has come for heaven to draw its sword.]
The reactions of the old masters were secondary. The figure of the intruder entered Jeong Yeon-shin's clear vision.
Unlike before, his yellow robe was not stretched tight. His muscles looked lean rather than bulky.
His body, which had previously brought to mind iron armor, now resembled a drawn bow—a look that harmonized with his ears, which rose gently along the sides of his face. The bridge of his nose, straight as a divine sword, carried an even sharper aura.
The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect.
"..."
The moment their eyes met, a hollow suction force washed over him. The colorless light in the man's eyes conveyed a sense of absolute emptiness.
It was not the immovable mind typically possessed by masters. At this moment, only a single phrase pierced into Jeong Yeon-shin's upper dantian.
A thousand years.
It was an insight whose origin even he did not know.
What was a thousand years? A human mind and body could not possibly endure such a span of time.
Yet, one thing was certain: contrary to Abbot Beomheo's words, it was impossible to shake that inhuman being with any method. That was what his intuition told him.
"Benefactor Dan," Abbot Beomheo called out to the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect. "It seems you did not come to help us, yet you have needlessly provoked the wrath of the Flood Dragon."
The old monk, speaking as calmly as ever, began to step up into the air. Meanwhile, the Flood Dragon, pierced through the very center of its body, let out a suppressed roar through its sharp teeth.
Rumble—
A massive noise like thunder leaked out, and suddenly, the surroundings grew dark and gloomy.
It was a bizarre omen. Similar to when the Flood Dragon first manifested, yet different.
Back then, wind and rain had poured down alongside thunder and lightning. Now, it felt as if the very colors of the sky were changing, as if broad daylight were shifting into night. It was slow, but it was enough to bring the phrase 'creation of heaven and earth' to mind.
[The martial world of the later generations has finally done it! The Flood Dragon is waking up here...!]
"It cannot be helped. Your Flood Dragon, Senior, must vacate the martial world along with this bald monk. The juniors must live in the martial world of the juniors."
Abbot Beomheo, floating high in the air, sat cross-legged. In an instant, a sound like a heartbeat spread far and wide, and a golden radiance began to outline the seated monk's body.
The Dark Sky Emperor immediately waved his hand toward him, driving down dozens of blue lightning bolts like harpoons. But an invisible slash extended from the upward swing of Jeong Yeon-shin's Lingering Thunder, completely neutralizing them all.
CRASH!
Colorless ripples bloomed like waves on a lake. Perhaps because he had once lost his left arm to the sword technique of the Lord of Heaven's Bane, Jeong Yeon-shin could now fully read the highly unpredictable forms unique to sorcery martial arts.
He quickly turned his gaze.
What about the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect?
A glance showed him standing just as before. He held his greatsword still, showing no sign of intervening.
Was he satisfied with having struck the Flood Dragon once? He was dripping with the dragon's blood that had drenched him, but only indifference showed in his deep-set eyes.
*
Meanwhile, the Dark Sky Emperor was venting his fury. He seemed extremely wary of Beomheo.
Rumble—!
The endlessly coiled Flood Dragon unleashed thunderous roars, uncoiling its massive body at this very moment.
[Beomheo! Do you intend to risk your life on something you cannot be certain of succeeding?!]
"Did that young purple-ranked expert of the Desolate Fortress clash swords with the Lord of Heaven's Bane because he was certain he would win?"
[Has someone who abandons the world so easily been posing as a high monk before the common people?!]
Beneath the Dark Sky Emperor, Beomheo laughed.
"If one sits in the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss and welcomes only those who have achieved Buddhahood, how can that be called a Buddha?"
Such was the life of a practitioner, one who cultivated the Buddhist path. The deeper one's cultivation, the more pityingly one looked upon a chaotic world. Naturally, to save sentient beings, one had no choice but to step into hell oneself.
Whoosh!
In the next instant, Beomheo grabbed the Dark Sky Emperor's ankle and plummeted toward the head of the Flood Dragon.
Though his monk's robes burned in a net of blue lightning and his wrinkled skin was scorched, nothing could stop the old monk's Vajra Immovable Body Art as it drove down, sundering space itself.
Gong!
A resonance like a temple bell rang out. At the same time, the old monk's intent spread like the Six Harmonies Sound Transmission. The spirituality arising from his upper dantian pushed the Shaolin Abbot's thoughts out into the world.
Unified Martial Transcendence.
[Hell's Unsalvaged.]
Since all sentient beings are crying out for salvation from below.
Whoosh!
In an instant, the sky was filled with a crimson storm of fire.
The Flood Dragon, suddenly jerking its head upward at an unbelievable speed, had exhaled its breath.
A light of fury flickered within its massive, vertically slit pupils. The reaction speed of the spirit beast, which had finally regained its senses, was truly staggering.
A pillar of fire, accompanied by a deafening roar, swallowed Beomheo and the Dark Sky Emperor in an instant, distorting space into a chaotic mess. Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been keeping an eye on the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect, was not given even a moment to intervene.
Then, Beomheo's intent continued.
[My Body's Extinction.]
This body quietly disperses...
It was just those two phrases.
[Beomheo—!]
The Dark Sky Emperor let out a monstrous scream.
Whoosh!
Not only the presence of Beomheo and the Dark Sky Emperor, but even the massive body of the Flood Dragon, which had been connected to them by the pillar of fire, vanished as if it had all been a lie.
It was accompanied by a sound like a Buddha blowing out a breath, treating them as nothing more than temple incense.
It had happened literally in an instant. It was mutual destruction.
Whoosh—
The Zhejiang River, which had been filled with the complex coils of the dragon's body, suddenly revealed a vast horizon. It was as if the Flood Dragon and the Dark Sky Emperor had been dragged into another world without warning.
Soon after, Beomheo's voice drifted down to the water's surface, carried by a winter wind.
— Please look after the martial world of humans.
It was a message as faint and lingering as temple incense.
*
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly stepped onto the river water.
Splash.
To his utter astonishment, the Unified Martial Transcendence Abbot Beomheo had just manifested was a technique that bent space itself. It was different from the Void Displacement of sorcerers.
He had claimed the entire length of the Flood Dragon's body and vanished from the world. His upper dantian intuition conveyed this truth to Jeong Yeon-shin.
Feathered Ascension, or quiet extinction.
He had achieved a realm spoken of in Taoism and Buddhism through martial arts alone.
The upper dantian pathway of the Fan Dragon Lotus Art, which had connected him to the dragon, was now severed. It was certain that the Flood Dragon had vanished. The number one expert of the Orthodox Faction's Unified Martial Transcendence was something that violated the very laws of all creation.
And...
"..."
In the distance, the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect stood upon the water's surface, still emitting an overwhelming aura.
A desperate crisis. The difference in their martial arts was clear.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not bother to scrutinize the man's stance or expression. The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect was a man who had already attained a realm unshaken by anything.
He was, quite literally, unyielding. Just because Abbot Beomheo had taken the Flood Dragon and the Dark Sky Emperor with him, the Lord would not show any great emotion. He was highly likely organizing his insights from the spectacle he had just witnessed.
The Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect was not swayed by the affairs of the world. There was no need to speak to him at this moment.
In any case, Jeong Yeon-shin had absolutely no intention of confronting his family's sworn enemy in this place.
If the man chose to swing his sword, he would be forced to draw his own blade and fight back, but there was a far more urgent matter demanding his immediate attention. Even if he were to be struck dead by that tyrant's sword right here and now, he had to repay his debt to Abbot Beomheo.
High above the churning waters of the Zhejiang River, the oppressive domain of the Void Extinction Realm had already begun to fade into nothingness.
Hum—
He slowly rotated the halo of his heart.
Jeong Yeon-shin first drew upon three distinct, visceral memories. The helpless sensation of blankly watching his maternal grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok, attempting to perish alongside the Blood Flame Cult Leader amidst a roaring sea of blue flames. The unfathomable Void Displacement of the Heaven-Smiling Invincible that had snatched Baek Mi-ryeo away into the unknown. And finally, the profound mysteries of the Shaolin 72 Arts, whose every characteristic was in perfect, harmonious alignment with Dharma Power.
Screeech!
The trajectory of his past life stretched out before his mind's eye like the warp threads of an ancient loom. They wove together, interlocking here and there with blinding speed, before seamlessly transforming into a single, unified sword path within his brilliantly white-shining upper dantian.
At the very skin of his fingertips gripping the hilt of Lingering Thunder, Dharma Power vibrated fiercely, thrumming as if desperately searching for an anchor in the void.
Soon after, recalling the overwhelming, oppressive sword force of the Lord of Heaven's Bane that he had once absorbed with his entire body, he slashed at the empty air.
Slash!
The atmosphere shimmered faintly, reality itself distorting along the edge of his blade. It was a miraculous, impossible sight—one that could never be recreated even if he were to attempt it a thousand times in the future. But that didn't matter. It was more than enough if he succeeded just this once, at this exact, fleeting moment in time.
‘Please.’
With a single, desperate thought, Jeong Yeon-shin thrust his hand directly into the spatial rift. The moment his fingers closed around the solid weight of someone's shoulder, he yanked backward with all his might.
As the familiar hem of an orange monk's robe began to emerge from the tear in reality in that split second, he spoke in a low, breathless voice, the words slipping out before he even realized it.
“You said that being connected is what makes a bond.”
It was unmistakably Abbot Beomheo.
An immense wave of sheer shock flowed through the old monk's grip—an intense, deeply human emotion Jeong Yeon-shin had never once sensed from the stoic Shaolin Abbot before. Gently pulling the elderly monk's battered body out of the rift and back into the mortal world, Jeong Yeon-shin muttered, echoing the Lord of Heaven's Bane.
“Lucky.”
Whoosh—
Immediately after securing the abbot, he spun a half-turn on his heel.
High in the distant sky, a figure was plummeting downward, her light pink Taoist robes fluttering wildly in the rushing wind.
Whoosh!
It was Lady Yul-ha, who had fearlessly thrown herself into the fray to keep the Flood Dragon in check. It seemed she had borne the absolute brunt of the firestorm that erupted right after she pushed back that massive serpentine body. Her loosely fluttering hair whipped around her pale face, which now looked incredibly white and entirely drained of blood.
She desperately released several propulsion shockwaves from her stockinged feet in a frantic attempt to slow her rapid descent, but it was to no avail. In a split second, she was hurtling down, about to crash violently into the turbulent surface of the Zhejiang River.
“Over here.”
Jeong Yeon-shin swiftly extended his arms, catching her seamlessly. He supported the back of her knees and the curve of her lower back, pulling her securely into his embrace.
In that instant, the residual shockwave of her fall dispersed with a heavy whoosh, drawing massive concentric circles across the river's surface. As Jeong Yeon-shin completely absorbed and redirected the kinetic force, a profound warmth passed between their tightly pressed clothes. It was incredibly warm—almost burning hot against the chill of the river air.
‘No one…’
No one had died.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood completely blank for a moment, his mind reeling from the sheer weight of survival. The gruesome image of the Perfected Ancient Sword's severed head, rolling across the floor from the top of some distant pavilion, suddenly flashed through his mind's eye.
A violent shiver ran straight up his spine, spreading finely through every nerve in his trembling body.
Cradled safely in his arms, Lady Yul-ha curled her pale lips into a soft, reassuring smile and gently stroked the back of his head.