Chapter 553: The Demon Realm (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 553: The Demon Realm (8)
Jeong Yeon-shin was the eye of the storm that had struck the northern Jianghu. Whether he liked it or not, and whether a better path existed or not, it was an undeniable truth.
Northern King Yelu.
Following the collapse of Hocheon Fortress at the entrance of the Great Wall, he had seamlessly conquered the stronghold behind it, Yeokru Fortress, and then Chigeuk Fortress.
Across this vast land, opinions of him were sharply divided.
This held true even within the military camp where Jeong Yeon-shin currently resided.
The Han people, the Brightfolk fugitives, the wild men of the former Jurchen and Yuan dynasties, and even the Demonfolk experts who sat in silence, their sheer presence distorting the air around them—all held differing views.
Sshhh—
It was midwinter, the absolute peak of the cold season.
As the biting wind met the horizon, blurring and distorting the sprawling sunset, they sat cross-legged in the desolate military camp, whispering among themselves. Enveloped in a yellow, dusty gale laced with translucent frost, they didn't even bother to lower their voices.
"Why did the new king stop the harvest?"
"I don't understand. What is the point of a battle where we cannot plunder...?"
"The more I think about it, the stranger it is."
"If the king does this, how are we supposed to survive?"
The questions from those who had crossed the Great Wall due to various grudges or debts of gratitude were relatively polite. These were mostly the Han and Brightfolk speaking, but in a way, they were already behaving as people of the northern Jianghu.
The weapons slung across their waists or backs might have looked like ordinary swords or sabers, but they reeked of blood just as heavily as any Demonfolk's crescent blade.
Meanwhile, the Demonfolk martial artists sitting haphazardly on the bare ground of the camp possessed voices as loud and thick as their massive frames.
"A king who is engrossed in war but refuses to claim its fruits...! He is simply mad for battle!"
"His physical size may be the same as those southern runts, but he is definitely a pure-blooded Demonfolk. He has a temperament comparable to the axe-crazy Northern King, whose mind has been thoroughly steeped in the Northern Gale."
The air rumbled.
Inside the king's tent, Jeong Yeon-shin was listening to all of their conversations.
Ma Ma-gwang-myeol, the masked saber-wielder who had previously provoked and tested him to his face, was no exception.
"O King. If you order me to go and slaughter all of those bastards right now, I will gladly obey that command at least," Ma Ma-gwang-myeol said in a low, growling voice.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been lost in thought for a moment, asked out of curiosity, "You didn't seem to recognize me as king before. What brought about this sudden change of heart?"
"Those lowlifes outside speak like that even while regarding you as king. They are tarnishing the dignity of a Northern King! It would be a hundred times better to round them all up, decapitate them with three strokes of a blade, and feed their flesh to enrich the soil of this land...!"
A masked Han man was speaking exactly like a Demonfolk.
Rumble—
Perhaps because he was a master of Body Protection Qi, his spat-out words caused the inside of the tent to tremble slightly. It was as if scales forged from energy waves were rattling against an invisible armor.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought,
This Jianghu... is truly strange.
A man who was said to have been expelled from the Hebei Peng Clan in his childhood, a supreme expert sublime enough to withstand the Sword Control of Flash Art of the Five Heavenly Swords, held the seat of the Northern King in the highest reverence.
Even if the Northern Kings did not fight to the death among themselves, this was a place where the Demonfolk beneath them frequently plundered and slaughtered one another.
Yet, looking at Ma Ma-gwang-myeol, one could guess just how solid and hellish the Net of Heaven and Earth of the northern Jianghu must be.
Under the axes and crescent blades of the Northern Kings, each of whom had achieved Unified Martial Transcendence, how many experts of the "man and horse as one" caliber would gather?
Their combined power would be at a level capable of rivaling the Ming Dynasty itself.
Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin raised his eyes. He recalled what Grand Steward Im Jin-myeong had told him: that the Yeoryeong Lord was a Demonfolk.
The Net of Heaven and Earth that imprisoned Senior Yong... was its root also in the north?
Looking back, their methods had been highly peculiar. The vast dragnet had been composed of village-like strongholds, much like the northern Jianghu military camps Jeong Yeon-shin had seen recently.
If so, Northern King Yelu must already be considered trapped within their Net of Heaven and Earth. For this northern Jianghu was a land made up of countless military camps.
In the end, there was only one answer.
To engage in the Northern Expedition within the laws that governed this Jianghu. This was a task that demanded the full capabilities of the Acting Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.
Thud—
Suddenly, Ma Ma-gwang-myeol stamped his foot. It was a movement that commanded attention through sheer physical strength, much like a Demonfolk.
"So, whom will you appoint as your Great Warrior? If you do not quickly secure a suitable supreme expert, you might lose Yeokru Fortress and its forces to another Northern King. Many kings are clearly watching you right now."
He placed heavy emphasis on the words might lose.
But Jeong Yeon-shin ignored him and stepped outside. Shin So-bin, who had been sitting quietly in a cross-legged position earlier, slipped out after him.
Meanwhile, Ma Ma-gwang-myeol's mocking voice struck the tent fabric from behind.
"You truly do not know how to bend. It must be because you don't realize how luxurious the lineups of the Northern Kings' Great Warriors are. I won't wait long, so think quickly. Either you force my loyalty in exchange for your martial arts, or you simply show off your personal might only to be trampled under the hooves of the Northern Kings."
"I never permitted you to be insolent."
Bam!
In an instant, an invisible palm force slammed down onto the crown of Ma Ma-gwang-myeol's head.
Jeong Yeon-shin had brought his palm down from where he stood without even looking back. Ma Ma-gwang-myeol staggered heavily, yet he let out a dry chuckle.
"What a thrilling touch...!"
"He really seems out of his mind. Though they do say people like that are usually incredibly strong," Shin So-bin whispered, leaning close to Jeong Yeon-shin.
Naturally, Ma Ma-gwang-myeol, who could hear her perfectly well, laughed even louder, as if highly pleased by the word "strong."
"O King, remember this! Your sublime martial arts are only meaningful when blocking another Northern King! While king faces king, it is the lords under their command who sweep the battlefield...! Therefore, right now, you are nothing but a penniless Northern King! That is how the world sees you!"
His words struck like a blow to the back of the head—sounding like advice, yet dripping with sarcasm.
"……"
The hundreds of northern Jianghu martial artists outside the camp—men and women, young and old, of all shapes and sizes—silently agreed with those words.
Though what they kept by their sides varied—swords, axes, great sabers, crescent blades, and warhorses—the cold wind wrapping around their bodies was exactly the same.
—You are not yet complete.
It was as if the world itself were speaking to Jeong Yeon-shin.
Whoosh—
Several gusts of freezing wind scraped across the wilderness. As usual, the thin cloud of dust settling over the ground blurred even the vision of the Acting Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.
This was the northern Jianghu.
Jeong Yeon-shin had indeed entered the Demon Realm.
*
About ten days after Northern King Yelu claimed Yeokru Fortress.
The Demon Realm.
Even though there were perfectly fine proper names for the regions here, many referred to the north as such. It was a common moniker even among the northern Jianghu martial artists themselves.
They used it mainly out of pride in their formidable strength, and as a form of self-deprecation toward their barren land.
"We're going just like this...?"
"This old man has never possessed much desire for material wealth. Even during my days as a sword boy, a few Fasting Pills were enough to make my heart feel full."
Was that not a truly blessed thing?
An old swordsman of the wilderness concluded his words in such a manner.
Though his tone was exceedingly serene, the ground he stood upon at this moment was anything but. The dark red-stained earth was thick with the stench of blood.
Occasionally, thick pools of blood would silently seep and sink into the earth.
A mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, composed of hundreds of the dead.
It was an empty lot that had originally been a village.
On a wall that remained barely intact, several public notices were posted, though to the majority of the common folk, they pertained to matters of an entirely different world.
[To Northern King Yelu.
A half-baked king has dreamed an undeserved dream.
One who possesses neither the loyalty of any lord nor a single Great Warrior.
You do not have the vessel of a king,
And the prosperous Yeokru Fortress is far beyond your station.
I know that the Lord of Yeokru, originally a vassal of the Flame Heat God King, is being forcibly held in your grasp despite your lack of virtue.
The Northern Gatekeeper, who once filtered out the southern invaders, is also failing to fulfill the duty bestowed upon him by the God of War.
Awaken to your lack of virtue.
Relinquish Yeokru Fortress.
Currently, a Great Warrior with a Half-Dragon Constitution—much like the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps of the south—is in my embrace. The moment my command falls, I intend to challenge you to a life-and-death duel of Great Warriors.
If you do not believe it, I can hold a meeting to prove it to you.
Since you will lose everything anyway, step down from that position on your own.
Before the prestige of the Northern King falls drastically in the eyes of the entire world.
—Dragon Sound Sasa King.]
[To Northern King Yelu.
I decree in the name of the Heavenly Demon.
Do not falsely claim the most noble surname.
If you do not reveal your true name in the near future, the darkest flame in the world will descend upon Yeokru Fortress.
I shall burn to death every single piece of trash under your command.]
[To Northern King Yelu.
Among the martial artists of Chigeuk Fortress whom you conquered, there was my brother.
If you possess the peerless martial arts to reach the throne, you should know shame. I have heard that a Northern King's battle is not fought in such a manner.
A king must raise his hand against a king.
How can one who personally kicks at the underlings of the enemy side be a Northern King?
My name is Do Hyo.
I am a martial artist who used to raise mules in Manju Fortress.]
[Northern King Yelu.
I do not know who you are.
However, if you truly came up from the south and are so confident in bare-handed combat, face me. This body of mine has handed defeat to the strongmen of the southern Eon Family Fist several times.
Of course,
It is not you, but your Great Warrior—who is like your alter ego—who must step forward.
If you have no suitable Great Warrior to put forward, you may pretend you did not see this. If I show you mercy, will not the name of our Ice Palace rise even higher?
Do not lose your temper.
It is not a major flaw to go through life without a single useful friend.
—First Consort of the North Sea Ice Palace.]
[To Northern King Yelu...]
Public notices about the figure who had caused the greatest stir in the current Demon Realm were posted in all kinds of handwriting, but the empty lot where those walls stood was a total ruin.
"……"
In the very center stood an old man, leaning on a sword planted into the ground like a cane.
By that action alone, the frozen frost nearby was being finely shaved away, indicating that all the surrounding wind had transformed into Sword Qi.
It was a natural disaster originating from a single blade.
A massive Demonfolk, with only his upper body remaining, looked up at him.
"If you intend to take nothing, why did you invade this place?"
Even in the face of death, the question was delivered clearly to the old man.
Thanks to his Innate Qi, which was like molten iron by birth, everything about him was distinct.
His thick lips slightly tilted diagonally; his nose, large and sharply curved like the talon of a Claw Technique master; and his eyes, flickering pitch-black within their sunken sockets.
A martial artist of the Demon Realm.
A human, yet at the same time, a creature of the strange, violent, chaotic, and supernatural.
Yet the old swordsman merely looked down at him and replied calmly,
"I saw it clearly, even from afar. You decapitated the commoners here with your crescent blades and built a tower of corpses with those rough hands. Is that not a truly sickening formation?"
"It was to nourish the Earth Qi."
"So that is your excuse. Seeing it now, you are no different from the Heterodox Sects of our Jianghu. It is both laughable and sad."
"I do not know what the Heterodox Sects are. However, the God of War commanded us that though we may plunder one another, we must never consume human flesh. We merely follow his solemn decree."
"...The will of the Northern Fighting God? Was it also the Fighting God who promulgated that formation, the technique of returning the energy of corpses to the earth?"
"The formation was created by the God of War's right hand, but the intent was established by the God of War himself."
"The right hand of the God of War. That must be the Southern Emperor."
"Even if we starve, we do not eat the weak. We merely use them as fertilizer for the crops that the strong will eat, and as feed for the cattle and pigs. That waiting is a time of patience and courtesy... Our formation is sacred. Do not insult it with sarcastic words."
The old swordsman, silent for a moment, shook his head. Then he muttered, "Difficult, truly difficult."
Only then did the Demonfolk martial artist's breathing grow labored. His thick facial skin, which rarely showed any emotion, gradually turned pale.
The Demonfolk expert gasped out,
"Your name...! Tell me your name! I must know who you are before I go...! I want to die a worthy death...!"
"Hyeon So-baek. I am a man of Zezhou, Shanxi."
The old swordsman replied.
An old man who had grown terribly aged and haggard since nearly meeting his death at the hands of the Dark Sky Emperor.
The Demonfolk martial artist immediately recognized the name of Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek. The fame of certain Ming martial artists had long since crossed the Great Wall.
It went without saying, for he was the figure whom the Jegal Clan in its prime had humbly nominated as the Leader of the Martial World Alliance, and the very first target in the current Jianghu of the Master of Taemo Mountain Fortress, who claimed to be a rival to Zhang Sanfeng.
"The Sword of the Night Sky. It is an honor."
He smiled.
His final breath of life mingled with those words.
"……"
Looking down briefly at the Demonfolk martial artist whose breath had ceased, the old swordsman, Hyeon So-baek, suddenly turned his head to the side.
"I am not in a good mood right now. Whoever you are, it would be best for you to turn back."
Where the old swordsman's low voice fell, a young man wearing a silver mask was quietly gazing at Hyeon So-baek. His entire figure was concealed beneath a thick cloak.
"Originally, I was most curious about the reason you walked all the way here, but first, let me ask out of concern."
The young man then asked in a polite tone, "Have you, by any chance, been revealing your identity to others like that as well?"
"Hmm?"
Only then did Hyeon So-baek turn his head completely.
"From the sound of it, you seem to be an acquaintance of mine... Wait."
His words stopped there. Suddenly, the old swordsman's figure blurred on the spot, and the next sound rang out right in front of the silver-masked youth.
Claaaaang—!
A wide shockwave erupted. It contained a ferocity far greater than the roaring sound that immediately reverberated.
Before anyone knew it, the two were clashing swords diagonally. Deep blue sparks crackled from their respective blades—a recoil resulting from their strike and sword draw.
Boom!
A moment later, even the ground caved in. Needless to say, the walls that had been denouncing Northern King Yelu collapsed with a harsh crash.
Yet, from the very beginning, the silver-masked youth was pouring his gaze solely onto the old swordsman before him.
His eyes shone with a pure white light.
"Dharma Power...?"
The old swordsman muttered.
His surprise at an opponent who had only retreated a single step was brief; soon, the corners of the old Sword Saint's mouth curved up into a gentle arc.
"We have both aged."
His insight and judgment were faster than any swift sword.
At this moment, before Northern King Yelu, Jeong Yeon-shin, stood the greatest Great Warrior under heaven.
—With what does a person become complete?
Through bonds.
The answer Jeong Yeon-shin had arrived at existed within the time he had built up. Literally one of a kind. He was already a Commander of the Divine Sword Corps fully capable of undertaking the Northern Expedition.