Chapter 484: Wilderness Sunfall (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 484: Wilderness Sunfall (3)
The sun was setting on Mok Manor.
Daylight and cold air mingled along the boundary of long shadows stretching from the manor’s walls. In the winter wind, which carried the crisp freshness of blooming flowers, a small group of people stood gathered.
Among them, Heonwon Chang, who had a bundle slung casually over his back, suddenly furrowed his brow. He had been pressing his cupped hands to the wall, eavesdropping on the conversation inside. This was no mere gesture but a secret technique of the assassins’ guilds—a variation of the Thousand-Mile Earth-Listening Art.
“What could that possibly mean…?”
“What?”
At Heonwon Chang’s murmur, the Brightfolk swordsman leaning against the wall gave a half-hearted reply.
He was a handsome man with a blue headscarf, but his once-gentle features now held a sharp, unsettling edge. This was the Blue-Eyed Demon Sword, Cheong-myeong. A chilling killing intent emanated from the eyepatch covering one of his eyes. The blue robe draped over his shoulders no longer seemed to suit him.
“You heard it too, didn’t you, Senior?” Heonwon Chang asked, glancing at him.
Without turning his head, Cheong-myeong spoke slowly. “That they’re taking our Unit Commander to the World Tree?”
“Yes, that. I don’t understand a single thing the Lord of the Desolate Fortress said… and that Divine Doctor is a bit strange, isn’t he? The way he talks, you’d think a branch from some divine tree just took human form…”
“It’s only natural you don’t understand. You’re missing the core of the story, and you know nothing.”
It was a blunt reply. Heonwon Chang wore a somewhat shocked expression.
Nearby, Shin So-bin, who had been staring at the wall so intensely it seemed she might burn a hole through the bricks, let out a smirk. For a long time now, the title “Great Tongue Sword” had been synonymous with the Desolate Fortress’s most knowledgeable storyteller, a man who knew every last detail of the martial world’s history. Heonwon Chang himself took great pride in having significantly expanded Jeong Yeon-shin’s knowledge of the Jianghu.
“They were talking about the Jianghu of the Purple Ranks and all that… If this is how it is… I’m completely out of my depth…”
While the Great Tongue Sword rambled, Shin So-bin turned her head toward Cheong-myeong.
“Is our Unit Commander the Lord’s true successor?” she asked.
Shin So-bin knew far more about the inner workings of the Desolate Fortress than Heonwon Chang. Hailing from the Shin Clan, the First Clan of the Desolate Fortress, and being the granddaughter of Elder Council Head Shin Byeok, she had naturally seen and heard a great deal.
“Was he ever a fake?” Cheong-myeong replied, his expression unchanging.
Yet, his words carried an implication that would be felt with immense gravity, not just within the Desolate Fortress, but across the entire world. The meaning behind taking Jeong Yeon-shin to the World Tree was profound. Though many members of the imperial family had studied under the Lord of the Desolate Fortress and cultivated deep martial arts, the term “true successor” carried an entirely different weight.
“Excuse me for interrupting,” a hollow-cheeked boy of about eighteen suddenly chimed in. “I’m just so curious. I’ve never heard that the Lotus Nezha uses the Moon Spirit Divine Technique of the world’s greatest expert. Was he really studying under the Lord of the Desolate Fortress?”
Despite wearing a Taoist robe, his speech and behavior were far from Taoist ideals. A worn sword hung at his waist, and a small Taiji symbol, intertwined in blue and red, was embroidered on the hem of his narrow sleeves. It was the pattern representing the Blue Cloud and Red Cloud, the famed divine arts of the Qingcheng Sect’s immortals.
He was Taoist Jin-mu, the personal disciple of Perfected Clear Water, who was imparting his arts directly, ignoring all generational hierarchy. He was already making a name for himself as a rising star who would one day unite the Qingcheng Sect’s Blue Cloud Sword and Red Cloud Sword. He was, by all accounts, a genius.
Heonwon Chang’s expression soured. “This is a matter for our fortress. Are you expressing doubt about the master-disciple relationship between a Purple Rank of the Desolate Fortress and the Lord of the Desolate Fortress? I don’t know where you learned such manners.”
“Well, wherever I learned them, they came from the teachings of our Qingcheng Sect…”
In an instant, Jin-mu’s upper body jerked backward as the middle-aged Taoist beside him yanked him back.
“I am truly sorry. He is a handful, even within our own sect.”
This was Taoist Cheong-eun, a top expert of the Qingcheng Sect. He was famous as a powerhouse with a mysterious sword technique, but he often found himself in the difficult position of mediating between Perfected Clear Water and Jin-mu. The newly appointed Sect Leader, Clear Water, was surprisingly lax despite his resolute appearance, while Jin-mu was a boy who practiced a natural state, unbound by worldly conventions.
“But aren’t you curious too, Martial Uncle? The Lord of Heaven’s Bane, who put our Sect Leader in that state, suddenly vanished, and they say it’s because the new Purple Rank fought him head-on and won. How could we not be interested? At least here we can talk to his close associates. Outside Hangzhou, a storm must be brewing right now…”
Thud.
With a dull sound, Jin-mu’s words cut off. Cheong-eun had sealed his Mute Acupoint. Struck hard on the back of the neck, Jin-mu’s eyes filled with grievance.
However, Cheong-eun didn’t even glance at his nephew-disciple as he clasped his hands toward the group from the Desolate Fortress.
“I apologize once again on behalf of our sect.”
“No, he’s mostly right. In fact, our Unit Commander is a grandmaster in his own right, so he mainly uses the techniques he created himself,” a girl’s voice drifted down from the wall.
It was Ak Su-rim, lying flat on her back atop the high wall, a broad grin on her face. Her black-robed form dangled precariously over the edge. She didn’t want the martial arts that had defined Jeong Yeon-shin’s life to be overshadowed by the Lord of the Desolate Fortress.
The corners of Cheong-eun’s mouth twitched upward slightly.
The Nine Sects possessed countless lay sects and often had clashes, both minor and major, with the Desolate Fortress, which was highly active on the front lines of the Jianghu. It was rare for the atmosphere between the two sides to be as amicable as it was now, but ever since Jeong Yeon-shin had appeared in the Murim, they had grown strangely close.
'There has practically never been a Purple Rank who maintained such close ties with the Sect Leaders of the Nine Sects.'
Even Elder Council Head Shin Byeok was a prime example. Despite his gentle impression, he was an extremely stubborn old man. He had once barked that even a common tavern was state property. If he caught martial artists breaking things during a squabble, he would drag them away on the spot and cripple their dantians.
And what about the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, Yong Hee-myung? His true martial arts, arguably the most magnificent under heaven, had been perfected through a style of swordplay that seemed to politely mock the entire Jianghu.
Cheong-eun chose not to think about the Hegemon Hero.
“In any case, I am worried about Lord Jeong’s body. Though the Divine Doctor’s medical skills reach the heavens, he has fought such intense battles in succession… Short of bringing down an immortal from the legendary Great Luo Palace, it will be difficult for him to recover quickly.”
His voice trailed off. Ak Su-rim snorted in response.
“An immortal from the Great Luo Palace? No need for fairy tales. Even if such a being existed, the Divine Doctor would be better.”
“Indeed. Aren’t Great Luo Immortals known for being useless anyway?”
It was a rare, gentle atmosphere.
Perhaps this was a peace that would never return. The Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit, who had taken priority in receiving the Eternal Candle Divine Physician’s diagnosis, had already departed on another mission of his own. He had left right after seeing the Lord of the Desolate Fortress descend with Jeong Yeon-shin.
Ak Su-rim recalled his words.
—If the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps changes, the day may come when all seventeen units of our fortress gather under Lord Jeong’s banner. Not just the Unit Commanders, but our entire military force.
—Are you crazy? Why are you spouting such nonsense when that Yong bastard is about to be dismissed?
—Some Unit Commanders, like Bukgung-a, are not close enough to Lord Jeong to readily comply. That will be the new Purple Rank’s task. I am talking about preparing for the true age of chaos that will soon sweep across the world.
—Hey!
—Senior Ak, you must do the same. I know you are working day and night to achieve Unified Martial Transcendence with the Ak Family Spear. But you must hurry.
The Silent Dawn Lord, Shin Hwang, had departed just like that.
Recalling his incredibly one-sided speech, Ak Su-rim’s brow furrowed. Every single one of these bastards, she thought, only ever said what they wanted to say.
“By the way, what do you think will happen to the Dark Sky Emperor’s Nascent Soul? It seems we have ultimately lost track of it…” Cheong-eun said, unable to hide his anxiety. He still hadn’t released Jin-mu’s Mute Acupoint.
“The aftermath will be severe,” Cheong-myeong replied briefly, but he showed no sign of moving from his post, his back to Jeong Yeon-shin’s quarters.
The other experts of the Desolate Fortress standing guard around him were the same.
Shin So-bin spoke up casually. “What can we do? Protecting our Unit Commander comes first.”
“With the Lord of the Desolate Fortress inside, is there any need for you all to guard him?” Jin-mu of the Qingcheng Sect finally managed to say, having used his own true qi to break the seal on his acupoint.
Cheong-eun shook his head.
“How many Sect Leaders of the Nine Sects are inside? The more powerhouses there are within a certain range, the denser the qi becomes, sharp as a blade. Not even the world’s greatest expert can expand their perception far in here. Is it not a martial artist’s instinct to prepare for any contingency?”
“Are you saying the Lord of the Desolate Fortress is wary of our Sect Leader? Martial Uncle, aren’t you overestimating our Sect Leader a bit…?”
“Dark Sky Emperor Cho-yeol is an old monster who lived through the founding era of the dynasty. Why can’t you fathom that a grandmaster of sorcery could use the auras of peerless experts as a screen to deceive the world, like a God Thief?”
“Geez, the fight is over, why isn’t he dead already? Why is he still lingering? And a peerless expert, at that…”
No one responded to Jin-mu’s grumbling.
Each of them let time pass, lost in their own thoughts and postures. Off to one side, Tang Clan Leader Tang Un-hwang sat, waiting endlessly for Jeong Yeon-shin.
*
“Child.”
A cocky voice echoed in his head—a voice that, while not old, was heavy with the wrinkles of time. And yet, it belonged to a being of profound ignorance.
Having lived through his share of strange experiences, Jeong Yeon-shin immediately regained his senses.
What is it?
He realized it at once. Though his consciousness had awakened, his body was still circulating the Great Heavenly Cycle with its eyes closed.
“Your reaction is incredibly fast. A speed worth remembering. Sorcerers facing you would be foolish to attempt something like the Heart Sword under the guise of a mental attack.”
The voice was steeped in insight. Recognizing its owner, Jeong Yeon-shin replied with his thoughts, sensing the intruder had entered his mind through some bizarre method.
Dark Sky Emperor, are you still alive?
An archaic reply returned immediately.
“I do not die. As long as even a fragment of my original internal energy remains on this earth, my years will stretch on endlessly.”
Truly immortal?
“Yes, I can feel your deep envy. Now that I have entered through the gap in your collapsed internal energy barrier, I can see it. You possess an incredibly unstable, flickering mind. Like someone who has already been given a date for his death.”
A sense of triumph could be felt in that heavy voice. Even an ancient absolute was still human.
Of course I’m envious, Jeong Yeon-shin thought. If he could live a long life, he would be able to stay with the people he cared about for a very long time.
Having read his mind in that instant, the Dark Sky Emperor fell silent.
“……You.”
His voice slowly continued.
“You have not lost them yet.”
It was a cryptic statement. Was he talking about his loved ones? For the Dark Sky Emperor, who was already roaming the Jianghu when the Ming Dynasty was founded, it made sense. He likely had few bonds left.
But that was none of Jeong Yeon-shin’s business.
Show yourself.
In an instant, the figure of the Dark Sky Emperor took shape within his empty mind—a handsome man with long, drooping ears, wearing a thick robe. His body was made of faint light.
Jeong Yeon-shin had made it so. Just as one manifests sword qi by infusing it with intent, he had focused his consciousness to illuminate the Dark Sky Emperor’s form within his mind. It was nothing extraordinary.
But the Dark Sky Emperor seemed to interpret it differently.
“Truly… such talent as Sambong…”
His figure rippled like water. He seemed genuinely shocked.
“If only you obtain it, you could even freely wield the Three Pure Powers of Taoism.”
The teachings of Taoism are difficult. Unlike Buddhism, they lack an intuitive aspect. I won’t be able to obtain them with brief study.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought this while pondering how to capture and kill the Dark Sky Emperor’s Nascent Soul, which was no different from a ghost. Perhaps because his body had not fully recovered, no particular method came to mind.
It was then that the Dark Sky Emperor’s laughter drifted in.
“I shall give it to you.”
What?
“I have kept it safely within my soul. A tiny fragment of Zhang Sanfeng’s true qi is in my possession! With this, you will surely be able to awaken the Three Pure Powers one day. A true heaven-sent genius does not study. A being like Sambong achieves everything through intuition, so you will not need much time.”
Are you insane?
“I was never sane to begin with,” the Dark Sky Emperor replied.
He then murmured words that sounded like a song.
“Have you not seen the leisurely man of Dao, who has ceased all learning and does nothing?”
The Song of Enlightenment. A teaching of a Tang Dynasty monk.
A hollow emptiness seeped from his low voice. At the same time, the Dark Sky Emperor’s fingertips fashioned a pine wood carving, which immediately melted away into Jeong Yeon-shin’s mental space.
A fragment of Zhang Sanfeng’s true qi.
A treasure that even peerless experts who walked the Jianghu alone, building no faction, would covet.
Thump!
In an instant, the space within his mind shook violently, as if a massive drum had struck his dark mental landscape.
“There is no Sambong to truly appreciate my martial attainment, and I admit that a mistake of heaven gave birth to you in a later generation. Therefore, I must feel Zhang Sanfeng through you! I want his acknowledgment…!”
That was all.
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly felt the foreign substance leave his mind. The Dark Sky Emperor’s disembodied voice continued.
“You are a born martial artist. In the end, you will have no choice but to obtain the Three Pure Powers. On that day, I will return to you and take this body. Thus, with a body like Sambong’s, I shall feel Sambong’s senses.”
The Soul Transfer Technique…?
“You know of it.”
The Dark Sky Emperor’s voice grew increasingly faint.
“The true qi of Zhang Sanfeng that I preserved within my soul is now mine as well. This means you and I are connected. Now, all that is required for the great technique is time. Enjoy the rest of your days until then.”
Bullshit…
In an instant, a sharp pain flared in his abdomen. The Divine Doctor had inserted a needle into Jeong Yeon-shin’s body. An incredibly dense stream of Natural Qi flowed in along the thin piece of metal.
In that split second, the figure of the Dark Sky Emperor vanished without a trace from his mind.
*
Leaning against the wall of Mok Manor, Heonwon Chang suddenly tilted his head. He then spoke slowly.
“…Isn’t it a bit cold?”
“It’s winter, of course it’s cold. If you didn’t feel anything, you’d be a peerless expert,” Jin-mu said with a slight smile.
The people who had been gathered earlier had already scattered. Ak Su-rim had warned them that countless presences were marching in formation toward Hangzhou, their scale and ferocity comparable to an army of martial artists. Whether they would be of help or not, they had no choice but to stand guard in all directions.
“Well…”
Heonwon Chang tilted his head again, trying to ignore the Qingcheng Sect brat.
In that instant, something bizarre caught the eye of the Desolate Fortress’s Great Tongue Sword. A rounded shadow was rising from the shade of the wall. It looked like the silhouette of a human head—a sight that Heonwon Chang, who had encountered all kinds of variables as a former member of an assassins’ guild, could not overlook.
Whoosh!
His figure blurred, and he suddenly found himself standing on what seemed to be opaque ground. An orb of faint, shimmering air lay beneath his gaze.
“No matter how weakened you are, you look pathetic. To think a Nascent Soul is visible even though you must have tried your best to hide it… and your movements are terribly slow. How did you escape the inner quarters? Did the Lord of the Desolate Fortress and the Sect Leaders have a major confrontation?”
“Your eyes are exceptionally good.”
The air hummed faintly. It was the last Nascent Soul the Dark Sky Emperor had left on earth. It was, quite literally, a bizarre sight.
“An assassin’s eye techniques are quite delicate,” Heonwon Chang said, staring down at it.
“You cannot do anything to me with your insignificant martial arts. If you wish to inflict damage, try breathing with a divine art.”
“So you’re saying one has to be at least a Black Rank.”
Heonwon Chang glanced at Jin-mu, who had appeared beside him at some point, and shook his head. There was little hope there.
“A Nascent Soul?! Is that a real Nascent Soul? We need to call people, quickly…!”
“Void Displacement.”
Along with Jin-mu’s shout, which was infused with internal energy, a low mantra flowed from the orb of air.
In the brief moment the air rippled, Heonwon Chang had already pulled something from the bundle on his back.
A single right hand, shrouded in a transparent aura.
It was a human hand.
Before anyone could react, Heonwon Chang gripped its index finger and cracked it through the air like a whip. Instantly, a thunderous roar erupted, and the translucent, shimmering air shattered into pieces.
“How do you… have the hand of Heaven’s Bane…?”
Heonwon Chang’s voice was remarkably casual, contrasting sharply with the apocalyptic power he had just unleashed upon the world. He held the macabre artifact with a steady grip, his expression entirely unbothered by the sheer impossibility of the situation.
"Tremendous traces are always left behind wherever our Lord Jeong fights," he explained smoothly, his gaze sweeping over the devastated landscape that bore the scars of unimaginable power. The sheer scale of destruction was a testament to the heaven-defying martial prowess involved in these clashes. "Naturally, all kinds of martial artists, opportunists, and scavengers would flock like vultures to see those lingering sword marks or residual palm prints, desperately hoping to glean some profound enlightenment from the remnants of his martial arts. So, isn't it only right and proper for us to erase them before they can be exploited by the unworthy? This severed hand is exactly what I found while I was meticulously cleaning up the battlefield."
\\[What... is...\\]
The telepathic transmission echoed through the rippling air, but there was absolutely no strength left in the voice. It was a hollow, fading whisper, a desperate gasp from an existence that had once touched the very apex of cultivation.
Anyone present could tell with a mere glance at the shifting spiritual currents. The ethereal, semi-translucent form of the Nascent Soul was rapidly dissipating, its condensed spiritual energy unraveling into the cold air like fragile smoke caught in a violent gale. The absolute terror and profound disbelief in that fading consciousness hung heavy in the atmosphere, serving as a stark reminder of the fragile nature of even the most exalted beings when faced with overwhelming, incomprehensible power.
Heonwon Chang looked down at the gruesome yet pristine artifact in his grasp, a mixture of awe and solemn respect coloring his tone. "The First Sword of the Outer Paths must have been a truly incredible figure, an absolute monster of the martial world," he murmured, turning the pale, unblemished appendage over in his hand. The skin was flawless, radiating a faint, terrifying aura. "To think that this hand, completely severed from his main body, simply refuses to rot or decay? It defies the very laws of nature and mortality. It makes me wonder... just what kind of heaven-shaking, earth-shattering battle did our Unit Commander have to fight to claim such a terrifying trophy?"
Along with Heonwon Chang's quiet, reverent murmuring, the violent shockwave that had previously torn through the fabric of space finally began to subside. The chaotic turbulence of spiritual energy settled, leaving behind an eerie, absolute silence. Where the formidable Nascent Soul had floated just moments before, absolutely nothing remained in its place. Not a single trace of its spiritual essence, not a speck of its foundational energy. The erasure was total and absolute, wiping the entity from the face of the world. Only the biting winter wind remained, sweeping across the desolate terrain, its crisp, freezing currents howling through the empty void left behind by the clash of titans.
It was in the profound stillness of this immediate aftermath, right as the last echoes of the shattered air faded into the endless winter sky, that Jeong Yeon-shin finally opened his eyes and woke up.