Chapter 61: Hero of the Desolate Fortress (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 61: Hero of the Desolate Fortress (4)
A large crowd, drawn by the commotion, had gathered in the distance. The onlookers who had managed to keep up with Jeong Yeon-shin and Wiji Myo-hwa were all masters of lightness techniques.
From their vantage point, they could just barely make out the two experts’ movements.
Jeong Yeon-shin paid them no mind. He poured all his focus into rescuing Heonwon Chang, his concentration absolute. For the first time, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his upper dantian, which burned with a brilliant light.
Only when they neared the pavilion did he finally allow himself a moment to breathe.
"I heard you were Blue Rank, but…" Wiji Myo-hwa began, her surprise evident. The shockwave he’d unleashed was entirely different from his usual Demon-Quelling Azure Steel Hand.
He was displaying a level of martial prowess and refinement she hadn't seen when he faced the Hegemon Sword Sect at Mount Zhongnan. Not even half a year had passed. The idiom gwalmok-sangdae—to see someone in a completely new light—felt like an understatement.
There was a limit to how much one’s skill could grow in such a short time.
"As I suspected, you weren't just a White-Ranked warrior in a blue robe. Young Hero, have you truly become a Blue-Ranked warrior?"
"Yes," Jeong Yeon-shin replied, taking another long stride forward.
Wiji Myo-hwa sighed inwardly. The Sword Immortal of Zhongnan had told her about Jeong Yeon-shin’s short lifespan.
Like a flame.
His growth rate was unprecedented. Even with his life destined to end early, he seemed to exist in a different flow of time altogether. She had heard rumors of a rising star in distant Xinjiang who was bringing the masters of the Demonic Path to their knees, but unlike that figure, Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t using sorcery.
She resolved not to be surprised anymore. She had learned the vastness of the world at a young age, earning her the title of Sword Dragon, and she had even overcome the heart demon he had inadvertently created within her. She harbored none of the jealousy or distrust others might feel.
Wiji Myo-hwa looked at Jeong Yeon-shin, who now stood beside her, with clear, untroubled eyes.
"I am only just hearing this auspicious news."
Her face, graced with a faint smile, was beautiful. She continued speaking as she matched his pace.
"It's a shame the circumstances are so dire, forcing me to cut my congratulations short. We should have a drink with Young Hero Heonwon later."
"...Thank you," Jeong Yeon-shin said calmly. Her words gave him strength. Heonwon Chang had to be alive.
Soon, they stood before the pavilion.
Jeong Yeon-shin clenched his fist and circulated the mnemonic of the Infinite Flower of Time Fist. He could sense numerous presences inside. Perhaps there were innocent people still alive. No matter how much he wanted to let loose, he had to limit the destruction to the main gate.
No.
He furrowed his brow. The waves of energy brushing against his skin felt wrong.
It was as if a cold tension was holding its breath. He could even smell the faint scent of blood drifting out. Something was different. Wiji Myo-hwa, beside him, also seemed to notice the strange atmosphere.
Just as her lips pursed, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the foresight from his upper dantian scatter into nothingness.
Thud!
There was no time to waste. He stamped his foot.
The shockwave of the Infinite Flower of Time Fist's Advancing Thunder erupted from his toes. The moment the accumulated force gathered in his fist, he thrust his arm forward.
Boom!
A gale born from the shockwave exploded outward, instantly obliterating the wooden gate his fist had barely touched.
Rushing through the shattered fragments, both Jeong Yeon-shin and Wiji Myo-hwa’s eyes widened.
"What?!"
"Who goes there?!"
The startled occupants inside were divided into two factions, seemingly locked in a standoff. The blood ghosts with their bright red hair were closer to the entrance.
On the opposite side, a group of captives held their breath. For some reason, they had been freed from their bonds and were now confronting the Blood Flame Cult.
At their forefront stood Heonwon Chang.
His skin was dry and his handsome face was twisted into a demonic snarl—an expression Jeong Yeon-shin had never seen on him before.
At his feet lay a corpse with blood-red hair streaked with a hint of black.
It was the Blood Master Sword, likely the head of this Blood Flame Cult branch.
Heonwon Chang clutched a dagger he must have seized from his captors. The reverse-grip stance he held it in looked vaguely familiar. The blade was drenched in blood, as if he had hacked at the body beneath him repeatedly.
He overexerted himself.
Jeong Yeon-shin understood at once.
The bastards from the Blood Flame Cult were an unorthodox faction that harvested true qi; they wouldn't destroy their captives' dantians. Thanks to that, Heonwon Chang must have been able to force open his sealed acupoints and launch a counterattack.
But it was no simple feat.
Forcibly tearing out another's true qi from one's own acupoints? Anyone with even a basic understanding of internal cultivation would call it madness.
He must have suffered devastating internal injuries, perhaps even irreparable ones. They were so severe that even after killing the Blood Master Sword, he was left unable to deal with the few remaining cultists.
It must have been a tense standoff where either side could have been wiped out.
One could tell how long they had been frozen like this. The commoners cowering behind Heonwon Chang were trembling so violently they could barely stand.
"There's another great hero here," someone remarked as the martial artists who had followed them began peeking through the ruined gate.
There were dozens of them. The Blood Flame Cultists froze, their mouths agape.
"Hmm?"
Heonwon Chang must have been completely absorbed in the standoff. Despite the gate being shattered, he seemed to only now snap out of his trance.
His eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin's.
"Uh…?"
His expression, which had been glaring at the Blood Flame Cultists like a wrathful god, instantly changed. His face went completely blank.
"Wh-why did you get here so fast?"
Those were Heonwon Chang's first words.
* * *
The Blood Flame Cult branches in Xuzhou were completely wiped out.
As dawn broke, a new title began to spread: "Hero of the Desolate Fortress."
It was a title praising Heonwon Chang.
Dozens of Xuzhou martial artists had witnessed him protecting the commoners with his battered, blood-soaked body. His heroism was of a different nature than Jeong Yeon-shin's overwhelming martial prowess. While many called the Flash Art of the Desolate Fortress a great hero, Heonwon Chang was respected for his pure chivalry, not his power.
"I heard that destroying the Blood Flame Cult is a great achievement for the Desolate Fortress, especially since the imperial family declared them a heretical sect," Wiji Myo-hwa said. She and Jeong Yeon-shin were sitting at a table in an inn.
She smiled faintly.
"With so many witnesses, your accomplishment will be officially recorded. I can also testify."
"Thank you," Jeong Yeon-shin replied curtly, a sense of unease gnawing at him.
Heonwon Chang's internal injuries were severe. The moment he had smiled in relief upon seeing Jeong Yeon-shin last night, he had fainted. When Jeong Yeon-shin took his pulse, he couldn't help but groan. The delicate meridians throughout his entire body had been shredded.
He might never be able to practice martial arts again.
Wiji Myo-hwa, carefully observing his expression, spoke up.
"Young Hero Jeong, you seem to have a reason to care deeply about your sect's achievements. Is that correct?"
"...It is," Jeong Yeon-shin answered slowly. He could tell her that much. Though their acquaintance was short, he sensed the depth of the Sword Dragon's character. Besides, his obsession with achievements was already known to many in the Desolate Fortress, including the Demonlight Wing. He couldn't hide it completely.
"While earning achievements for the Desolate Fortress, you might also find a way to restore Young Hero Heonwon's body," Wiji Myo-hwa said. Jeong Yeon-shin leaned forward instantly.
Wiji Myo-hwa met his gaze without flinching.
"Our sect has been at war with the Hegemon Sword Sect for a long time. Many of our disciples have suffered internal injuries like Young Hero Heonwon. They would be crippled within a month, but a medium-grade spirit medicine can change everything."
"Spirit medicine…"
"Starting with the ruined Dragon-Phoenix Gathering, the Namgung Clan and the Blood Flame Cult have been engaged in a massive battle—one could call it a war. And the Namgung Clan is the closest great sect to Xuzhou, located right here in Southern Zhili."
Wiji Myo-hwa's eyes sparkled with wisdom, her experience in the martial world on full display. Her breath, brushing against the tip of Jeong Yeon-shin's nose, carried a hint of hope.
"Do them a great service. The Namgung Clan is known for its righteousness, a rarity among the Eight Great Families. They will surely repay the favor. There is only one problem."
She paused. "Whether you have the martial skill to do so."
"..."
In the martial world, an act of chivalry was often repaid with another. Wiji Myo-hwa was speaking of its very essence.
The Blood Flame Cult is fighting the Namgung Clan? They must be committing immense resources.
Destroying them was already his personal goal. Now, he had another reason.
To perform a feat so great that the Namgung Clan would repay him with a spirit elixir? It would be incredibly difficult, but there was no other way.
The next destination for the Flash Art of the Demonlight Wing was decided. From Xuzhou to Huizhou.
"Obtaining a spirit elixir from another sect… A normal achievement won't be enough," Jeong Yeon-shin murmured.
One martial art immediately came to mind: the Sword House.
He had lost three days of his lifespan at the Hwangbo branch family and had resolved to seal the technique until his internal energy could rival a Black Rank expert's. Making repeated exceptions could make it uncontrollable—it was a firm decision.
This is the last time.
Jeong Yeon-shin made up his mind. He would do it because it would allow him to accomplish both goals: Heonwon Chang's recovery and the destruction of the Blood Flame Cult.
It would be the last time he used the Sword House before reaching the realm of a Unit Commander.
The main force that had struck the Hwangbo Clan was likely still in Shandong Province. The territories of the Eight Great Families were vast; wiping out one main family and a few branches was far from annihilation.
I'll just inform the Blue Rank seniors who have come down to Southern Zhili. I can leave a message at the government office.
Given Heonwon Chang's condition, waiting for them to regroup was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Jeong Yeon-shin decided to modify his martial art right then and there. Sitting at the table, he fell straight into meditation.
The killing range of the Sword House is separate from the area reached by the sword's resonance.
Aided by his upper dantian, his mind began to dissect the mnemonic piece by piece.
I just need to restrict the radiating true qi so it doesn't spread as far as the sword ring. Even if I can't specify a target, I can set an approximate range.
He focused his consciousness on the lightning flashing endlessly in his mind, entering a state of complete absorption—a world no one else could fathom.
"Young Hero?"
Wiji Myo-hwa's questioning voice immediately faded from his awareness.
* * *
A long canyon marked the border between Huizhou and Chizhou. It was called Clear Night Valley.
Legend said that at the nation's founding, a peerless master of the Brightfolk fought a demon here, lighting up the night with his sword light.
Now, it was broad daylight. The pouring sun shone down indifferently on the blood splattered everywhere.
Clang! Boom!
Tremendous sword force clashed as the stamping of feet shook the ground. Hundreds of warriors with bright red hair battled warriors clad in blue. The front line was so long it looked less like a clash between sects and more like a full-scale war.
"That Apostle bastard. He’s barely moving."
Meanwhile, the area where the leaders of the Namgung Clan were positioned had an elegant, almost serene atmosphere, a stark contrast to the urgency of the front line. The unique grace of a prestigious clan held firm, a lofty presence even on the battlefield.
"How long must we remain idle?" a young man standing with the family elders asked. He had gentle eyes and was the successor of the Namgung Clan.
He had already drawn his sword, and the martial uniform woven from luxurious blue silk suited him perfectly. With his outstanding looks and excellent martial arts, the people of the martial world called him the Azure Qilin.
"The Blood Master Swords and two Apostles are waiting for an opening. Do not act rashly," said the head of the Namgung Clan, his back to them, his robe a pure white. "The common cultists can be handled without us. You must remember this, Young Master. A clan's battle is not about simply winning; it is about preserving the lives of our family."
"That's right. We can only minimize casualties if we strike back the moment their true masters make a move."
His annoying younger sister, peeking out with her copper-tanned face, chimed in, echoing their father's words. The Azure Qilin, Namgung Se-jin, gritted his teeth.
"The warriors dying right now are our family."
His voice was a low hiss between clenched teeth. This time, even his sister had no reply.
"Think of the decision made when Hwa-shin was cast out. As the master of this clan, you cannot keep individuals in your mind."
There was no change in the clan head's tone.
The fighting was intensifying, but the enemy's leadership refused to engage. The bastards looking down from a nearby peak with arrogant postures were infuriating.
Two Apostles and nearly thirty Blood Master Swords.
Despite their immense power, they would thoroughly retreat the moment one of the Namgung Clan's top masters made a move.
"How many days has it been? Do they intend to drag this into a war of attrition?" Namgung Se-jin bit his lip.
His father, the clan head, must be in agony as well.
The Blood Flame Cult's influence was vast. When a family elder had lost his patience and charged forward, fifteen Blood Master Swords had pushed through the front line to meet him. It was a mockery—a warning not to act rashly. They were exploiting the weakness of a clan where every member was bound by blood.
It seemed they intended to wear down the Namgung Clan's numbers before committing their own masters, and so far, no solution had been found.
The battle had raged for over fifteen days. Morale on the front lines was plummeting, even with the clan’s top masters still standing.
It was then that the clan head and several elders suddenly turned their heads. Namgung Se-jin, whose senses were exceptionally sharp, did the same.
Something was approaching, and fast. It was coming from behind the Blood Flame Cult's camp.
From very far away.
Whooooosh!
A sound slowly began to spread toward the canyon. Was it the cry of a giant bird that once ruled the sky?
A resonance that started as a whisper grew rapidly, swelling in volume.
A sound none of them had ever heard before swept over the battlefield.