Chapter 519: Sunset (10)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 519: Sunset (10)
From their position on the riverbank, the warriors of the Demonlight Wing took in the two opposing forces at a glance.
“The Northern Jianghu… I heard the Great Wall was breached.”
The first to speak was a man whose eyes held a faint, misty red glow. It was Na Il-cheon, the Asura Demon Soul, a former member of the Bloodkeeper Unit who had long since been integrated into the Demonlight Wing.
He, too, was a practitioner of the Flash Art lineage and had achieved great completion in the Vast Art Formula. Now a Blue-Ranked expert, he served in the Demonlight Second Team, handling scouting and preemptive strikes in place of the First Team.
“I have a suggestion for the Commander.”
He pointed a pale finger toward the warships of the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress, which floated opposite a mass of men and horses swaying gently on the river’s surface.
“Let us turn back while those bandits are being slaughtered.”
“Let’s watch for now,” Cheong-myeong replied, nodding curtly.
At that moment, the group occupying the upper stream was a formidable sight. The thirty-odd warships, with their imposing appearance and strict discipline, resembled a true naval force.
Nearby, the transparent surface of the water rippled turbulently as waves of telepathic energy clashed violently above the clay-colored decks. To an outside observer, however, they merely exuded a quiet, solemn spirit, accompanied only by the clear sound of flowing water.
—Those monsters…!
—Put the Demonlight Wing on the back burner!
—Load! Load! Close the distance!
The wooden planks of the ships’ hulls gleamed with a slick oiliness, as if they were completely impervious to fire arrows. Since the crew consisted entirely of internal cultivation experts, the concentric circles of energy characteristic of their power rippled endlessly beneath the gunwales. A pungent smell wafted from the rows of gunports, where dark iron muzzles protruded side by side.
Standing along the gunwales, draped in river mist under the sun, were the ghosts of the Yangtze River—over one hundred and twenty water arts experts of the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress.
It was a truly overwhelming martial army.
“Why are those bandits acting like…?” Shin So-bin trailed off. The pale, misty waves of her Vast Art Formula drifted like smoke through her pitch-black hair.
Only a few experts from the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress, standing on the decks of their warships, reacted to her words.
“Ignorant girl.”
“Shut your mouth, Blood-Net Radiant Empress! How dare a mere watchdog of the Imperial Court call us bandits!”
[You are next.]
Even the Six Harmonies Sound Transmission, laden with deep internal energy, caused the riverbed to vibrate faintly.
From the very beginning, the Demonlight Wing had stood here prepared for mutual destruction. Every time they had searched for their comrades from the main fortress—the Radiant Sword Unit, who had gone missing after a massive battle near the Yangtze River—they had faced fatal interference. They had been interrupted by the fire bombs and water-blade strikes launched by the water arts experts aboard the warships.
Their information was swift, and their movements were even faster.
In that sense, the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress was a mysterious group. Despite appearing out of nowhere in the vast Yangtze River basin, their power was worthy of a seat in the Thirteen Heavens.
Meanwhile, the hundred-odd riders and their horses standing opposite them remained still, treading upon the river’s surface. But the moment the warships of the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress began to close the distance, each horse took a single step forward.
It was a movement made atop the water.
With just that single step, the bits of flesh, blood, and fragments of entrails that clung to their bodies like macabre clothing slid off into the river.
The moment the forehooves of the hundred-odd warhorses struck the water’s surface…
Thump—
A single, heavy vibration, like the beat of a massive drum, rippled out.
There was no other warning.
One moment, the figure leading the cavalry raised his crescent blade, and the water split wide to the left and right like a tidal wave. The next, the entire cavalry force scattered like a sudden whirlwind, cutting straight through the waterway in a single line.
Their charge flickered and fragmented like a moth’s wings, disappearing and reappearing before they reached the bows of the warships in an instant.
Swoooooosh!
In a single breath, the gap between the two factions vanished—before the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress could even finish closing their own distance.
Hundreds of hooves churned the river into murky foam, while horizontally held axe heads and crescent blades left long, colorless trails in the air. The atmosphere rippled translucently from the vibrations exploding along those lines, but only for a moment.
CRASH—!
At the end of their charge, the cavalry kicked off the water in unison, sweeping clean through all thirty-odd warships.
A monstrous shockwave erupted in all directions, but the riders and horses had already slipped through that split second of chaos. They reappeared on the other side, revealing that every single ship in the vast formation had been trampled beneath their hooves.
Splatter.
Countless white sprays of foam shot up belatedly.
Wooden splinters that had been warships moments ago, along with the shattered weapons of the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress experts, rained down in pieces. Clay-colored wood, reddish flesh, and iron fragments crushed to the point of bursting painted the water’s surface a murky gray, accompanied by the weak, hollow lapping of waves.
Soon, the ceaseless churning of the river subsided, becoming as still as a mirror. The Jianghu returned to its original state—a corpse of seawater.
“…”
The Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress of the Thirteen Heavens.
It was a level of destruction tantamount to total annihilation.
In that moment, the experts of the Demonlight Wing fell into a rare silence.
They had understood the profound principles behind that cavalry charge. The unified movement, the speed, and the irresistible power… It was as if two or three peerless experts had joined forces on the spot to deliver a single, catastrophic blow.
“From the moment their hooves first struck the water…” Cheong-myeong, Commander of the Demonlight Wing, kept his single eye fixed on the cavalry as he continued, “…how long did it take to reach maximum speed?”
“There was no such thing,” answered Wi Ye-ryeong, the Moon-Shooting Bow Ghost, her voice immediate. Faint moisture clung to her trapezius muscles, honed through years of archery. It was cold sweat. “They only kept accelerating right up until the moment of impact. And that wasn't even their limit.”
She spoke with absolute certainty.
Cheong-myeong nodded slowly. “So we must assume they have a method of circulating internal energy that treats their steeds as an extension of their weapons? Much like how our clan channels Earth Qi and raises spirit beasts.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“The Northern Jianghu has finally marched south. Hmm… If we die here, the main fortress will be in a tight spot.”
Cheong-myeong spoke dryly, but no one failed to understand his meaning. He was referring to their former Commander. It was a burden the Desolate Fortress always endured.
If the Demonlight Wing was wiped out here, the Jianghu of the dead would end with them. But the world of the Flash Art, Jeong Yeon-shin, would continue on in grief. Even though he had already experienced so many losses to get where he was, this would be no different.
The experts of the Demonlight Wing knew the feelings of those left behind. Among them, only Shin So-bin was a novice. Most had witnessed the deaths of comrades far more often than Jeong Yeon-shin ever had. In this moment, they even had the composure to exchange a few words.
“If only our Lord Jeong were here with us.”
“Then we wouldn't have to worry about dying in the first place. But the main fortress's Purple Rank is not our babysitter,” Pung-ran, the Blood Sword Ghost from the Bloodkeeper Unit, said, parting her red lips. Beside her, Oh Wol-hyang, who had lost an arm in the City of Master Craftsmen in Sichuan but had since recovered her Blue-Ranked martial prowess, clenched and unclenched her wrinkled hand.
The other Demonlight Wing experts felt the same.
It was then.
Splash.
From among the cavalry, a single rider stepped forward, treading on the water. The head of the warhorse, draped in steel scales like a mane, was fixed squarely on the Demonlight Wing.
Na Il-cheon’s five pale fingers lightly warped the air around them. “I wonder if he's just as formidable off that horse,” he muttered coldly.
While the space, already enveloped in the white currents of the Vast Art Formula, rippled with the opening stances of the Demonlight Wing experts, the rider and horse approached without hesitation. With every splash of hooves striking the water, the atmosphere grew heavier, layer by layer.
As the muddy ground of the riverbank was crushed under the immense pressure, Shin So-bin bore the weight on her shoulders and stared at her opponent.
…I can't see his face.
The air around his body was warped, as if enveloped in a desert mirage.
The wave of energy pressing down on Shin So-bin's clothes was incredibly solid, an aura reminiscent of a siege cannon from a northern battlefield.
The cavalryman halted his horse ten steps away from the Demonlight Wing. Then, he casually tossed something toward them.
Shin So-bin swiftly caught it.
“The Corpse Mountain King…”
It was the head of a middle-aged woman, her eyes wide with shock. A haze of internal energy still shimmered at the roots of her thick, short hair, as if she had been circulating a massive amount of power even in her dying moments. It was the face of the Corpse Mountain King, one of the Twin Kings of the Dragon Stream of the Myriad Phenomena Water Channel Fortress.
“Are you asking for praise?” Cheong-myeong smirked, narrowing his single blue eye. “You killed her well, of course, but I assume we are next.”
To Shin So-bin, this was a stalling tactic. Indeed, at the rear of the Demonlight Wing, a White-Ranked warrior was pricking his finger to write a letter in blood. The Blue-Ranked experts, of course, possessed the skill to listen to and process Cheong-myeong’s telepathic messages with one part of their mind. That message would soon be snatched up by a blue swallow assigned to the new Commander of the Demonlight Wing and sent flying.
—The moment I give the signal, everyone scatter. It's a melee. There's no rule saying the Vast Art Formula can only be used for charging. Besides, it's hard to calculate our chances of winning.
“Ah, do you know who we are?” Cheong-myeong’s voice echoed in two overlapping layers—one a telepathic transmission, the other his spoken words. “It's only right that we both know each other's affiliations. That way, we can offer condolences to the deceased's sect.”
Shin So-bin raised her internal power to its absolute peak while chiming in, “They might not even understand our language…”
It was then.
Suddenly, the lower half of the cavalryman’s face was faintly revealed. He was a man with a jawline so thick and rugged it looked as if it had been chiseled from stone. His mouth was twisted in a diagonal line, making it hard to tell if it was his natural expression or a sneer. Only his voice, which sounded like a stone scraping against a rough boulder, was clear.
“Des. o. late. For. tress…?” he asked, pronouncing each syllable distinctly.
In that instant, Shin So-bin felt as if her mind were being ground in a millstone. It was utterly chilling.
A peerless expert…?!
The Northern Jianghu, which had occupied an entirely different land, had come for them. It arrived along with the light of the setting sun, which had begun to seep into the river.
*
Before Jeong Yeon-shin had followed Shin Cheon-hwa’s Void Displacement, Ak Su-rim had said she could defend the main fortress for about fifteen minutes in her role as deputy Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.
But Jeong Yeon-shin thought beyond that. The weapon of the Divine Spear of the Desolate Fortress was a banner symbolizing the main fortress on the front lines, and its master, Ak Su-rim, was a powerhouse capable of defending the gates of the Desolate Fortress for an entire day. Furthermore, the leaders of the great sects among their enemies had already been dealt with. There was likely no unorthodox expert in Huguang Province capable of matching a powerhouse who had been the strongest of the Black Rank before the Divine Blood Ultimate Demon.
Now…
Although Jeong Yeon-shin's limbs burned from trading blows with the former Commanders of the Divine Sword Corps, his mind, in contrast, settled into a tranquil calm. He had stowed away the heads of the Commander of the Netherflow Unit and the Commander of the Searing Abyss Unit deep within his heart, carrying the weight of their deaths and the knowledge he had gained. Thanks to this, he could observe both the Commander’s reaction to their deaths and his maternal grandfather's reaction upon hearing of the end of Wudang's Perfected Ancient Sword.
“It's carved quite well.”
Yong Hee-myung had just finished carving a large, grandmaster’s stone chair, complete with a backrest. The dry way he praised his own handiwork was not so different from Jeong Yeon-shin, but his ingrained habits were humorous, carrying a strange dignity.
“…”
Conversely, his maternal grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok, fell silent for a moment before declaring the end of his secluded meditation. He said it was now time to go.
“Watch two more things before you go.”
“Two things…?”
“My Life-Saving Herb and that Yong fellow's.”
Before Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes could even widen, Ma Yeon-jeok pointed toward Shin Cheon-hwa.
“That ghost won't have the strength to perform the Unified Martial Transcendence. So, two is correct.”
[Hmm.]
The woman in purple shrugged.
Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin had much to say. He wasn’t confident he could immediately extract any useful techniques from the Unified Martial Transcendence of the former and current generations. His talent allowed him to absorb the profound principles of all martial arts as if they were his own, but he could not treat another person's life as a mere technique. That was only possible when the opponent had lived a very shallow life.
Unlike when he had analyzed the Ghost-Howling Hegemon Peng Yeo-ran's Unified Martial Transcendence, Abbot Beomheo's 'Hell's Unsalvaged: My Body's Extinction' remained an incomprehensible mystery to this day. He also had an immense amount of martial attainment he still needed to refine. Simply pouring more in was not the answer.
Above all…
He felt as though those who showed him their Unified Martial Transcendence would disappear forever beyond a final door. Whatever this premonition was, it felt correct.
“Yeon-shin, you must watch.”
But unlike his grandson, his maternal grandfather was no gentleman. When it came to what he believed was right, he completely ignored the look in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.
“The Commanders of the Divine Sword Corps,” Ma Yeon-jeok, the Hegemon Hero, said.
Slowly, Yong Hee-myung rose from the stone chair behind him.
*
That day, Jeong Yeon-shin witnessed two sights.
And with unfocused eyes, he bowed to the former Commanders.
His clasped-hand bow was somewhat disheveled, his purple sleeves slightly askew. Yet, no one seemed to mind.
“We have held you for too long. Go now. Take care of yourself.”
“We shall meet again soon.”
The moment Ma Yeon-jeok and Yong Hee-myung saw him off, Jeong Yeon-shin began to truly consider himself the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, even as his mind remained hazy as a dream.
At this moment, the swordsman stood treading upon the dusk, clutching the Divine Sword: Lingering Thunder at his waist as if it were a Sword of Divine Attainment.