Chapter 66: Reputation
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 66: Reputation
"The… the Lord is coming here? Right now?" Heonwon Chang stammered.
Agitation rippled across the face of Wiji Myo-hwa, who stood beside him. The shock shattered the mental discipline she had cultivated on Mount Zhongnan, the sacred ground of the Taoist Sect.
"The Lord of the Desolate Fortress, in person…"
"It has been a long time since the Lord last set foot in the Jianghu. Fifteen years, hasn't it? Not since the destruction of Dali," Cheong-myeong said slowly.
In the Martial World, fifteen years was long enough for a generation of experts to rise and fall. It meant the Lord had not demonstrated her divine might in a very long time.
As was often the case with youth, some rising stars who had amassed deep internal energy through spirit medicines were said to look down on the older generation. Martial arts were a craft that evolved with time; no disciple of a renowned orthodox lineage feared the peerless techniques of centuries past.
But the Lord of the Desolate Fortress was a different entity altogether.
"To see with my own eyes the divine art that destroyed the royal family of Dali in Yunnan…" Wiji Myo-hwa murmured, her hand caressing her sword hilt. The shock was so immense that, for a brief moment, it even pushed aside her worry for Jeong Yeon-shin.
Glancing at her, Cheong-myeong gestured toward Heonwon Chang.
"There is no telling how swift the Lord's lightness skill is. It wouldn't be surprising if she has already entered Southern Zhili. Tell the County Magistrate to prepare a reception. We must also summon the Branch Head of Huizhou. The Lord must be received with the honors befitting a monarch."
"Even the Branch Head!"
Heonwon Chang scurried out of the room in a flurry.
A god among men, for whom even the phrase "a force of thousands" was an understatement, was descending upon them.
The Branch Head, who governed the entire Huizhou region, was three ranks higher than the County Magistrate and possessed a status rivaling that of the Namgung Clan Head. Even so, he would have to bow respectfully before the Lord of the Desolate Fortress.
For she was a monarch recognized by the Emperor himself.
*
"The Lord is arriving. Prepare yourself."
"...What did you say?"
Heonwon Chang delivered Cheong-myeong's words to the County Magistrate, taking immense satisfaction in the man's instantly terrified expression.
This County Magistrate was closely aligned with the Namgung Clan, the local aristocrats of Southern Zhili. His previous indifference toward their requests to mobilize government soldiers vanished without a trace.
Just as Heonwon Chang stepped out of the magistrate's office, he saw a middle-aged swordsman clad in blue martial robes standing in the main hall. The glare he directed at Heonwon Chang was ominous.
Though the man didn't seem to be consciously channeling his energy, the waves of qi permeating the air felt incredibly heavy.
The Azure Sky Boundless Sword!
Heonwon Chang instantly recognized the signature technique of the Namgung Clan. Even the man's attire matched the robes of those bastards.
"You rascals of the Desolate Fortress," said the swordsman, whose jet-black beard was neatly and elegantly trimmed. "You are plotting something outrageous. How dare you ignore our clan and gather martial artists here in Southern Zhili? To show such a lack of courtesy to the local lords makes you no different from the Unorthodox factions."
"Who are you?"
"I am Namgung Wi, you Desolate Fortress thug."
Heonwon Chang fell silent for a moment.
He knew the name. The man was the Vice Commander of the renowned Changgung Sword Unit and was said to be one of the finest swordsmen in Southern Zhili—an expert against whom even an ordinary Blue-Ranked Expert could not guarantee victory.
My head might actually roll if I'm not careful.
The Namgung Clan was known to rank above the Hwangbo Clan. Judging by the County Magistrate's attitude, their collusion with the local government ran deep. They possessed enough power to commit murder right here in a government office and bury the case.
Heonwon Chang spoke cautiously.
"You filthy hypocrite. Knowing your clan's unprincipled conduct, how dare you speak of courtesy? Did you memorize the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, the Four Books and Three Classics, only to utter such shameless, beastly words? Do you feel no shame when you think of your deceased parents?"
The anger he had bottled up spilled out in a quiet, measured tone. A gentle yet firm aura began to radiate from his body.
Namgung Wi's reaction was a beat too slow.
"What did you say?"
"You are the true unorthodox martial artist. Did you not stand by and watch the death of a rising star who sought to stabilize the lives of the people by slaying cultists? Now that our fortress is gathering martial artists to strike down that very cult, you ignore your own shameful behavior while prattling on about your clan's prestige…"
As Heonwon Chang spoke, the internal energy fluctuations radiating from Namgung Wi grew increasingly powerful. Yet Heonwon Chang remained unfazed.
"You are truly a pathetic sight."
He concluded with a look of sheer satisfaction. Namgung Wi shook his head.
"...Did you think I wouldn't draw my sword just because we are in a government office?"
Wuuuung.
The man's sword began to emit a resonant hum. True to his reputation as a renowned swordsman, the sound alone was extraordinary.
Just as Heonwon Chang channeled true qi into his throat to call for Cheong-myeong and Wiji Myo-hwa—
Thud.
There wasn't even the sound of a slice.
With a sudden, gentle breeze, Namgung Wi's head parted from his neck and fell limply to the ground. It was as natural as a leaf falling from a tree.
Opposite the head rolling across the floor, the body of the famous swordsman collapsed. It was a death so abrupt and futile that it felt surreal.
Since when had it been there?
A constant, haze-like breeze swirled around them. It was an incredibly bizarre moment. Though the wind was colorless, it felt as if a faint green light shimmered in all directions.
Time in the government office seemed to freeze. A profound, transcendent aura bloomed in the silent courtyard.
"The sins of Namgung," a clear, resonant voice echoed from the rooftop, "shall be held to account, along with the Flash Art."
The hem of a robe, colored like tender grass, fluttered in a long trail.
Heonwon Chang had already tilted his head back, his eyes wide. Soon, he knelt with disciplined grace, his entire body trembling with profound emotion.
*
"Are you awake?"
A playful whisper brushed against his ear, carrying the heavy weight of internal energy. He recognized it by now—the exhalation of the Seventh Apostle.
Jeong Yeon-shin opened his eyes. His senses didn't return immediately. Although he could sharpen his body's sensitivity to qi at will, the activation of his own true qi felt sluggish.
He realized it instantly. He had been subdued.
My acupoints were sealed again.
The Seventh Apostle's face filled half his vision. Her expression was laden with a deep, profound affection, but he could also sense her desire.
Jeong Yeon-shin quietly stared into her single red eye before speaking.
"What did you do?"
"I simply wanted to cherish your dazzling body forever. I drew a picture, so that the boy I see before me will remain in our Cult for eternity."
She smiled brightly and straightened up.
Only then did Jeong Yeon-shin notice the pungent smell of ink and paint. She must have had a talent for calligraphy and painting; the large sheet of paper in her hands depicted his entire body. It was no mere portrait. It was a detailed diagram of his internal body.
The Eight Extraordinary Meridians, the fine vessels and acupoints, and even his three dantians were all there. One part stood out in particular: the upper dantian in his head, connected to the wide-open acupoint at the crown of his skull. It was drawn with astonishing detail.
A meridian chart.
She had injected her true qi into his body to observe his physical form. As a master of internal qi gong, scanning his body would have been an easy task for her.
She curled her lips upward.
"Who knows? Perhaps our Cult can create a child who can match even a fraction of your talent."
"...I've heard of this. That bizarre divine doctors occasionally emerge from the Blood Flame Cult. You use the power of regeneration for your sinister medical arts? No wonder physicians who walk the Righteous Path fall behind."
"This will be a treasure."
"Using your own cultists as sacrifices. How typical of Unorthodox trash."
They spoke past each other. Their relationship was forged on the law of the jungle that governed the Martial World. The beaming Seventh Apostle and the calm Jeong Yeon-shin were fundamentally at odds.
He closed his eyes again, focusing his mind on his lower dantian.
The Moon Spirit Harmony Art he had received from the Lord of the Desolate Fortress was a peerless martial art, rare in the world. He had already spent considerable time training to create a new heart cultivation art with extremely rapid qi accumulation. Merely studying and contemplating its mnemonics had broadened his understanding.
Indeed, Jeong Yeon-shin was already well-versed in high-level breathing techniques.
Discussing the heart cultivation art with the Lord has paid off like this.
The mnemonics of the Mara Blood-Roaring Art, which he had scanned the moment he returned with the secret manual from the Blood Flame Cult Leader, unfolded in his mind. He had already categorized the effects of the art's qi accumulation and could distinguish the mnemonics that affected the brain first. He extracted them instantly.
"What are you doing…?" the Seventh Apostle asked cautiously. She seemed to be mindful of how she had flown into a rage yesterday, only to apologize profusely afterward.
Jeong Yeon-shin paid her no mind and mastered the circulation of the Mara Blood-Roaring Art. He did exactly as she wished, adopting the exact nature of her blood art true qi that resided within his body.
Done.
Once the mnemonics were dismantled, the rest happened in an instant. A new path for circulating true qi was engraved in his mind. He was now capable of purging the Seventh Apostle's true qi, which sealed his acupoints and held his life in her hands.
Furthermore, he realized one more thing.
The regenerative power of the blood art stems from plundering true qi.
The Cult Leader's words came back to him. He had been told not to touch the foundation. The martial arts of the Blood Flame Cult shared a single root. Even if he knew the technique, he could not openly use it in the outside world.
Jeong Yeon-shin was already planning his escape.
He slowly parted his lips.
"Your martial art."
"Hmm? Yes?"
"I am modifying the Mara Blood-Roaring Art first. Is it really alright to tailor it specifically to you? It is, after all, the martial art of all the Apostles."
"Ah!"
The Seventh Apostle's face flushed with pure, white-hot joy. She nodded vigorously.
"Those other bastards have their pathetic pride just because they're supreme experts! They probably won't even learn it. You only need to look at me! Besides, the Cult Leader will be focusing on the Blood Summoning Art!"
With that, she brought over a neatly folded bundle and handed it to him. It was red. Judging by its thickness and shape, it was a red robe, identical to the clothes she favored.
"It's the Pure Blood Robe. It was woven using our Cult's sorcery and Heavenly Silkworm thread. Ordinary blades can't even scratch it."
"...It's a rare treasure."
"Yes. There are only a few in our Cult. Only Apostles can be bestowed with one."
His Desolate Fortress martial uniform had already been confiscated. Jeong Yeon-shin looked down at the bundle and spoke.
"Let's go for a walk."
"Do you still have lingering attachments to the Desolate Fortress?" the Seventh Apostle asked, tilting her head slightly, but Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer.
He had formed a plan after observing the formation art yesterday. He needed to walk around and plant his energy into various objects.
How did she interpret his silence? The Seventh Apostle's face cycled through a myriad of expressions. Perhaps because of his mention of modifying the Mara Blood-Roaring Art, he could sense a suppressed rage and possessiveness that she couldn't easily vent. There also seemed to be a trace of sorrow.
It's not for my sake. It's because of her own desires.
It was an emotion Jeong Yeon-shin had no need to agonize over. It was likely just the pity felt by a Blood Flame Cultist.
Shaking his head inwardly, he flung the door open. At that moment, the voice that had been grating on his ears since midday suddenly grew much louder.
"...And so, a new Grand Preceptor has manifested in our Cult! Your station shall be equal to that of the Apostles! Therefore, we shall rightfully strike down those wicked factions of Beijing and those hypocritical thugs with the sword of punishment!"
"That's the Third Apostle's son. A fellow named Go Jong-hak," the Seventh Apostle said in a peculiar tone.
A sea of red hair filled the surroundings. There appeared to be at least several hundred Blood Flame Cultists.
The man standing on the central platform of the village, spewing passionate words, suddenly whipped his head around. His eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin's.
In that instant, the corners of the man's mouth curled upward.
"There! He is right there! He has revealed his noble countenance to us!"
Following Go Jong-hak's gesture, countless gazes converged on him. Even the Seventh Apostle turned her head and smiled softly.
Go Jong-hak's subsequent shout was infused with true qi.
"He is the one who will lead our Cult all the way to Beijing! Ah! Behold him! Our Cult shall be transformed by the miracles the Grand Preceptor will perform! I humbly entreat the Grand Preceptor: please, show a miracle to these pitiful commoners trapped in the Flame Blood!"
The "miracle" the man spoke of seemed to refer to modifying the mnemonics of the Blood Summoning Art, but it was an utterly unreasonable demand. It had been barely a day since Jeong Yeon-shin had regained consciousness.
Even the Blood Flame Cult Leader didn't demand immediate results.
He was the son of the Third Apostle, the one who had tested Jeong Yeon-shin with an internal energy barrier. This was a clear sign that even evil cults had political strife. The man clearly intended to use Jeong Yeon-shin's reputation to humiliate him. Perhaps even a gathering of madmen was still a human society.
From what the Seventh Apostle had said in the Cult Leader's hall, he knew that the Third Apostle and his son were aiming for the position of Young Sect Leader. The lust for power, breaking through the madness of the blood art, felt strangely familiar.
Jeong Yeon-shin shook out the bundle in his hand with a broad motion. The crimson, wide-sleeved fabric unfurled and fluttered like a banner.
Without a word, he began to slip the robe over his clothes.
With a few swift movements, the Pure Blood Robe settled over his body, billowing like fresh blood.
"..."
The crowd fell silent. Go Jong-hak was no exception.
Jeong Yeon-shin's appearance was just that striking.
Wuuuung.
Was it because he had begun to circulate the Mara Blood-Roaring Art, with its madness excised?
It was an aura that had never before emerged from the Blood Flame Cult. Though it was clearly the wave of a blood art, a clear, transparent energy began to weave through the cult's uniquely sinister atmosphere, transforming it.
Some of the cultists whispered. Words drifted from all directions: Cult Leader, Grand Preceptor, Apostle, Pure Blood...
The wave of energy from his body whipped up a wind, sending his jet-black hair fluttering against the shoulders of his red robe.
At this moment, his appearance was indistinguishable from that of a direct descendant of the Blood Flame Cult's martial lineage.
"You wish to see a miracle from the Grand Preceptor?" he asked.