Chapter 83: The Struggle (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 83: The Struggle (2)
The glow of internal energy in Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes quickly faded. He parted his lips and exhaled a long, slow breath.
A wave of energy rippled outward from him before vanishing. He felt heavier, as if weighted down by the newly gained True Qi.
“Anyone would take you for an elite warrior. If it weren't for that young face of yours, that is.”
“Indeed. His physique, for one. There are few even in the main fortress with a body so well-forged.”
Several seniors threw in lighthearted remarks, noting that he now carried the unmistakable aura of a martial arts master, regardless of his age.
“Thank you.”
Jeong Yeon-shin offered a cupped-fist salute to those who had stood guard for him. They were the seniors who had watched over him during his Qi Meditation in the Great Training Ground.
He was receiving a kind of care and attention from them that he had never experienced back at the Jeong Family Manor. He treasured their profound, almost overwhelming sincerity.
“You don't know how much stronger you've become? That's only natural,” said Ma Jin, who had been watching the boy closely. “That’s how it is with an increase in internal energy. The amount you can perceive through introspection isn't everything. You only truly feel the difference when you put it to use.”
Jeong Yeon-shin smiled faintly and spoke.
“Are you offering to spar with me?”
His tone had changed, carrying a hint of comfortable familiarity. This was how he had begun to treat his maternal uncle.
A smile touched Ma Jin’s lips, pleased to see his nephew gradually opening up to him.
“That would be nice, but… say your goodbyes first and follow me.”
Ma Jin turned and began walking toward the exit of the Great Training Ground.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been standing blankly, turned to face his comrades.
“Getting some private guidance from the Unit Commander right before a mission.”
“You can never have too much advice, right?”
“Your opponent is from the Namgung Clan, after all—the ones who claim to be the greatest secular clan under heaven.”
“Flash Art, come back in one piece.”
The Demonlight Wing experts standing behind him smiled and offered their farewells.
Their tone made it sound as if they would see him tomorrow, which was how the warriors of the Desolate Fortress always said goodbye.
Missions were perilous, and many comrades failed to return. For that very reason, they sent each other off lightly.
It's their own way of wishing me well.
It meant they hoped he would return as naturally as the next day's sun rose. It was a custom of the Desolate Fortress. Jeong Yeon-shin calmly offered a cupped-fist salute and slung his travel bag over his shoulder.
“Young Hero Jeong!”
“Yes, Young Hero Heonwon.”
Jeong Yeon-shin looked at the man who, like himself, was not yet accustomed to the fortress's customs.
Heonwon Chang was grinning.
The blue headband tied around his forehead fluttered slightly behind him. To an outsider, he looked like the one embarking on the mission.
“Just finish the duel and get back here quickly this time. If you take too long, I might have already hit Blue Rank. A peer should be there to witness the moment of promotion, shouldn't they? Just like I was for you.”
“You, reaching Blue Rank? Isn't that a bit of a stretch?”
“I've only been showing you thirty percent of my true power. You'd better not drag out your duel, Young Hero Jeong. Get back here.”
After exchanging a few more jokes, they parted ways.
Jeong Yeon-shin began to walk in silence. The floor of the training ground, pitted by the heavy steps of martial masters, felt exceptionally rough beneath his feet.
This was his first mission where not a single member of the Demonlight Wing would accompany him. They had their own duties to perform.
They said the expedition to the Hwangbo Clan was an excessive deployment of forces.
He had only learned after returning that the campaign to annihilate the Hwangbo Clan had been a difficult decision. He’d heard they had mobilized their scarce manpower simply to make an example of the clan.
The martial world was a realm layered on top of the mundane one, and the Desolate Fortress was a sect that protected its territories from the denizens of the Jianghu.
Though the 17th Unit of the Divine Sword Corps was powerful, their numbers were incredibly small when spread across the entire Central Plains.
A warrior of the Desolate Fortress had to be a master with the martial prowess to rival the formidable figures of the Jianghu. They also had to be someone the main fortress could trust, an individual who sympathized with the ideology of stabilizing the people's livelihood. Such talents were incredibly difficult to nurture.
Most outsiders with enough martial power to pass the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam were filtered out by the Lord of the Desolate Fortress, usually due to their temperament.
To the Jianghu, the Desolate Fortress suppresses their freedom.
They were potential enemies of every sect in the martial world. Looking at the Jianghu as a whole, the Desolate Fortress was a tiny minority.
It wasn't that the fortress was small; the world was simply too vast. The Central Plains was a chaotic land where the Thirteen Heavens, the Nine Sects and Eight Great Families, and countless mid-sized sects ran rampant.
“So that's why the Namgung Clan confidently accepted the duel challenge.”
Arriving at a sealed stone chamber in the Small Training Ground, Jeong Yeon-shin stood facing Ma Jin.
“Yes. This is vastly different from the situation with the Hwangbo Clan. First, it's a one-on-one duel. Second, they are titans who understand our circumstances quite well. They believe that if we clash with only a small number of elites, the outcome is unpredictable. And the Namgung Clan is clearly stronger than the Hwangbo Clan—strong enough for the Orthodox Factions to call them the greatest secular clan under heaven.”
“…”
“I must also head to Sichuan soon,” Ma Jin continued. “It's about that Thunderbolt Bomb that caught you off guard. We have intelligence that the Sichuan Tang Clan is secretly manufacturing them. The Chief Steward's Office ordered me to go and verify it.”
“The Tang Clan… I’ve heard the Sichuan martial world is treacherous. Isn't it a place where even Demonlight Wing experts can't guarantee their survival if they get swept up in the chaos? The Sichuan Tang Clan, which vies for the top spot among the Eight Great Families, is there, along with three of the Nine Great Sects and three major sects of the Thirteen Heavens.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke with feigned nonchalance, speaking not as a subordinate, but as a nephew.
During the transition from the Yuan to the Ming dynasty, supreme masters of lightness skills implicated in treason had easily evaded the pursuit of imperial warriors and vanished. That event had dealt a massive blow to the dignity of the Ming Imperial Family.
Because of that, the Desolate Fortress, which carried out missions in the Jianghu, was not publicly affiliated with the government. For in the martial world, the price of failure was highest. This meant that quick-witted Jianghu figures would not hesitate to kill a warrior of the Desolate Fortress. The phrase “silencing a witness” was made for such occasions.
“I know what you mean. But I am more worried about you,” Ma Jin said with a faint smile. “I am the Commander of the Demonlight Wing. I survived without much trouble until I reached the Black Rank. It is not for a Blue Rank greenhorn to worry about me.”
“Without much trouble?”
That wasn't true. He’d reportedly lost his testicles during a mission to rescue Baek Mi-ryeo when she was a young girl.
Jeong Yeon-shin's gaze instinctively drifted toward Ma Jin's groin before he quickly looked away.
Frowning, Ma Jin pretended not to notice and spoke.
“You showed a new palm technique during your duel with the White Qilin, didn't you?”
“Yes. I've been refining it lately.”
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the combination of the Demon-Quelling Azure Steel Hand and the Mara Blood-Roaring Art. It was a technique that utilized the repulsive force of extreme opposites through a sorcery formation. Despite its astonishing power, it lacked precision, a flaw that was not easily corrected.
“Any Black Rank expert who watched your duel that day would have grasped its strengths and weaknesses in a single exchange. Its form is imprecise, am I right?”
“…Yes, that’s true.”
“I like that you admit it so readily. Let me give you some advice. What is the foundation of your martial arts right now?”
“The Jeong Family Dynamic Art.”
Jeong Yeon-shin answered without hesitation.
“Right. The Young Divine Monk Gakjeong said it was comparable to the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic. If Shaolin's Eighteen Arhats acknowledged it as such, then your Jeong Family Dynamic Art is indeed a peerless dynamic cultivation art. You've been neglecting its training lately, haven't you? Too busy filling your reserves of internal energy.”
“Ah.”
He nodded. It was a training regimen he had never missed back at the Jeong Family Manor—things like placing a heavy log on his back and repeatedly squatting while circulating his True Qi.
“Since I've already reached the stage of great completion with it, I didn't think it was necessary,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied briefly.
“Great completion…?”
The conversation paused. While Ma Jin stared down at him, Jeong Yeon-shin waited in silence.
“…The durability of your acupuncture points is likely beyond what you can imagine. This means you can be bold when experimenting with martial arts. You are different from ordinary internal cultivation masters. Since your entire body is so solidly structured, you don't need to worry much about Qi Deviation.”
Ma Jin slowly continued.
“The seventy-two arts of Shaolin are all famous as divine arts, but some of their training methods sound bizarre. The Hot Sand Palm or the Iron Cloth Shirt are like that. They plunge their hands into fire-heated sand and throw their bodies off cliffs. They don't worry about internal injuries while tempering an unbreakable body because they have refined their entire being with the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic.”
“Your knowledge is no less than Young Hero Heonwon's, Unit Commander. To know the Shaolin divine arts in such detail…”
“You mean Heonwon Chang?”
Frowning slightly at Jeong Yeon-shin's joke, Ma Jin shook his head.
“My point is, don't worry about how you circulate internal energy for your new palm technique. It will be enough to circulate your True Qi without hesitation to refine its precision. I know you are engrossed in creating a new inner cultivation method, but for now, the palm technique will be more useful.”
“That certainly makes sense.”
Nodding, Jeong Yeon-shin offered a polite cupped-fist salute.
“Thank you for the advice. It is time for me to depart.”
“…Yes. The sword of the Namgung direct line is terrifying. Do not let your guard down. Take their heads.”
The long scar on Ma Jin's face twitched, a movement seemingly born of worry. It was uncharacteristic of a Black Rank expert who had long lived by the customs of the Desolate Fortress.
“I will be back, Unit Commander.”
Jeong Yeon-shin bowed slightly and turned around.
At the same time, he expanded his sense of Qi to check his preparations.
The Desolate Fortress Sword, the Northern Light Sword, the Heavenly Silkworm Martial Uniform, his coin pouch and travel bag… and his martial arts. All newly equipped.
His preparations were complete. It was time to set out.
*
On the road leading away from the fortress’s main gates, Flash Art Jeong Yeon-shin and White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin walked along the main road, each leading a horse.
The two youthful Blue Rank experts of the Desolate Fortress drew the attention of passersby, but Jeong Yeon-shin paid them no mind. He was too focused on their strange situation.
“Where did those two go?”
“I was only told that they were given a mission that required them to pass through another region beforehand…”
Namgung Hwa-shin shook his head, indicating his ignorance.
“What in the world…”
The mission originally assigned to them was not supposed to be like this.
Jeong Yeon-shin's maternal grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok, and the Elder Council Head of the main fortress were supposed to accompany them as the duel delegation. The Commander of the Divine Sword Corps and the Divine Sword Squad were supposed to join them along the way for escort.
And until they join us, it’s just the two rising stars traveling alone?
Jeong Yeon-shin was dumbfounded. How long had it been since he was hunted by the Blood Flame Cult? It was bizarre that the fortress was leaving him exposed like this again. Could this be an order from the Lord of the Desolate Fortress?
Though they say a journey through the Jianghu without hardships is not good for one’s martial achievement…
He asked, “Are the Elder Council Head and the Head of the Desolate Ma Clan also carrying out a mission?”
“I do not know.”
Looking at Namgung Hwa-shin, who smiled with a troubled expression, he realized anew that the White Qilin had taken the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam at the same time he had. At a time when they would normally still be low-ranking White-Ranked Warriors, it was difficult for him to be fully aware of the fortress’s inner workings.
The two of them were in the same boat. Jeong Yeon-shin sharpened his sense of Qi.
“We must hurry. I have earned the enmity of many from the Thirteen Heavens, so if we aren't careful, we might struggle to make it on time.”
“That would be best.”
Namgung Hwa-shin nodded readily, and they mounted their horses in unison.
Neigh!
They immediately spurred their steeds forward. There was no need to discuss the route. For Jeong Yeon-shin, this was no longer an unfamiliar path, and for Namgung Hwa-shin, the destination was his own family home.
The wind carried the scent of a new beginning. The rush of air past his face and the rhythmic jolting of the horse felt invigorating. They galloped without hesitation along the road where the early summer sun beat down, creating a shimmering heat haze.
Namgung Hwa-shin smiled and said, “You are quite skilled at riding.”
“It seems you are even more so, Young Hero Namgung.”
The ride remained refreshing even after an hour. The geography was straightforward. From Xiangyang, where the Desolate Fortress was located, to Huizhou in Southern Zhili, there was only one way if they took the main road.
Perhaps because of that, Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly felt a sense of inevitability.
A gust of wind tinged with a crimson hue seemed to caress his cheek, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.
The wave of energy spreading from far ahead was extremely familiar. It was irregular, yet strangely refined.
Has she been waiting there all this time?
It's weaker than usual. The wave of energy is shallow.
The boy spoke from atop his horse, and a brief exchange between the two geniuses immediately ensued.
“Young Hero Namgung.”
“That sinister energy? I felt it.”
“Yes. It is Blood Art True Qi.”
“It doesn't feel like it’s on the level of the Blood Master Sword.”
“It is an Apostle.”
“An Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult?”
“Yes. Likely the Seventh Apostle.”
“I have heard much about her. That she lived with you.”
“So you know how to joke?”
“I am human too. More importantly, the wave of energy is strange. It is too weak to be the power of an Apostle.”
“If she's weakened, this is our chance. If she were at full strength, it would already be too late. We could never outrun her lightness skills.”
“What are our chances if we fight together?”
“I do not know. Our only option is to make a scene and hope the masters from the fortress notice.”
He spoke honestly. He had consumed the spirit elixir received as a mission reward, and his internal energy had increased. Yet in the world of masters, a hair's breadth of difference was a chasm in martial power. Jeong Yeon-shin was cautious.
It was because he lived a life on borrowed time. It was difficult to give a definitive answer without pushing his body to its absolute limits.
Do we even have a chance?
Still, if that significantly weakened energy is real…
Thud!
Jeong Yeon-shin leaped from his horse, measuring the distance. His field of vision expanded dramatically.
As Namgung Hwa-shin also soared into the air beside him, a figure emerged from the now-nearby forest.
She wore a fluttering red robe.
Ebony hair, and a single crimson eye.
There was almost no change in her physical appearance, save for her hair being slightly longer.
But her state was different. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, the dark red jarring against her pale skin. Although Blood Arts possessed regenerative properties, she seemed unable to heal her internal injuries.
Whoosh!
Since a clash was inevitable, Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin immediately whipped up a storm of lightness skills.
As the scenery flashed past like an arrow, the face of the Seventh Apostle filled his vision.
Thud.
“Your main headquarters should have been destroyed.”
His feet dragged along the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. As the displaced air from their lightness skills blew back like a headwind, Jeong Yeon-shin stopped exactly ten paces away and spoke.
“What do you want, coming all the way to Xiangyang?”
“…Because you weren't at home.”
Slowly, the Seventh Apostle parted her blood-stained lips. She wore a faint smile from the moment she faced Jeong Yeon-shin, looking almost pitiful at a glance.
Her jet-black hair fluttered in the dusty wind.
“I came… to find you.”
The Seventh Apostle's lips quivered. Her crimson eye, opposite her black eyepatch, gleamed.
“What's with that state of yours?” Jeong Yeon-shin, thoroughly sick of her hollow madness, asked indifferently.
“Are you worried about me?”
Her smile brightened. With her deep, crimson smile, she seemed to pay absolutely no attention to Namgung Hwa-shin.
“They were a bit… rough. Those Black Ranks of yours.”
Her words trailed off, her internal breathing clearly unstable. There were Desolate Fortress masters who hadn't shown themselves during the incident at the Blood Flame Cult headquarters. Had she been defeated by them?
It was then.
“Now that I've found you, it's fine. Come here.”
Rustle.
She stumbled forward with a smile. Even at a glance, her internal injuries were severe. She seemed completely unhinged.
Jeong Yeon-shin raised a hand to stop Namgung Hwa-shin from intervening. Fortunately, he stopped—a gesture of trust, likely born from Jeong Yeon-shin's rapid growth, his Blue Rank status, the missions he had completed, and the friendship they had built.
Something is wrong.
He stood still, observing only the Seventh Apostle's expression and energy wave, until her faint breath brushed against the nape of his neck.
Rustle.
With a trembling breath, she embraced Jeong Yeon-shin. He could clearly feel the fabric of her clothes gently rubbing against his.
“Come back with me, and create a divine art for me. My own little Grand Preceptor. My little Cult Leader.”
The Seventh Apostle whispered, her voice tickling his ear.
If this works on her, it'll work on the Namgung Clan’s direct line too.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought as he was held in her embrace.
“Your little Grand Preceptor…”
He spoke calmly. He hadn't expected his new palm technique to be put to practical use so quickly.
As he circulated the mnemonic, a sinister wave of True Qi surged from his right hand.
It happened in a fraction of a heartbeat, a mere instant suspended in the suffocating tension of the battlefield. Time itself seemed to stretch and distort around them, slowing to an agonizing crawl as the sinister wave of True Qi fully coalesced within the palm of Jeong Yeon-shin’s right hand. The Seventh Apostle still held him in that intimate, suffocating embrace, her breath still warm against the nape of his neck, her guard entirely lowered by the intoxicating delusion of her own absolute dominance. She had expected absolute submission. She had expected to mold him into her personal puppet, her little Grand Preceptor, her little Cult Leader. But she had grossly miscalculated the sheer, unfathomable depths of the young man she currently held in her arms.
Beneath his feet, the very earth began to violently react to the terrifying martial intent pooling within his meridians. A sudden, unnatural gust of dusty wind swept outward from where he stood, spiraling in a tight, aggressive vortex. It was not merely ordinary dust; as the ambient qi in the air violently resonated with his internal energy, the swirling grit caught the piercing rays of the midday sun. The dust began to shimmer, igniting with a brilliant, blinding golden hue that seemed completely at odds with the dark, sinister nature of the True Qi surging through his veins. The golden particles danced and fractured the light, creating a breathtakingly beautiful yet utterly lethal halo of power around his lower body. The air pressure plummeted, growing heavy and thick, making it difficult to even draw breath as the sheer density of his gathered energy warped the space between them.
His voice, when it finally broke the heavy, oppressive silence, was entirely devoid of any warmth, any fear, or any hesitation. It was a chillingly calm whisper, yet it carried a resonant, piercing clarity that cut straight through the howling of the golden wind and the Seventh Apostle's arrogant delusions.
“...is no more.”
The words fell from his lips like a judge's final, irrevocable execution order, completing the sentence he had started moments before. The fragile illusion of his surrender shattered into a million pieces in that exact millisecond.
Along with the boy's cold, final words, the world violently tore itself apart. A thunderous, deafening roar exploded outward, a concussive shockwave of pure, unadulterated destructive force erupting from his right hand. The newly minted palm technique, born from his unparalleled genius and fueled by his sinister True Qi, detonated at point-blank range. The sheer volume of the sound was like a towering mountain suddenly collapsing, a physical blow to the eardrums that drowned out all other noise in the world. The shimmering golden dust was instantly vaporized by the sheer kinetic fury of the blast, transforming the intimate, whispered embrace into an apocalyptic epicenter of martial devastation.