Chapter 85: The Struggle (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 85: The Struggle (4)
Ever since striking that bizarre bet with the Seventh Apostle, his only thought had been to reach their destination as quickly as possible.
Jeong Yeon-shin rode his fine steed in silence alongside Namgung Hwa-shin. They continued like this for a long time.
Only the thundering of hooves and the fierce wind whipping against their faces broke the silence.
"...Young Hero Jeong. You don't seem to have much of an appetite."
"You seem to be the same, Young Hero Namgung."
Even when they paused to rest the horses and chew on beef jerky, tension hung thick in the air. They kept their sense of Qi constantly on high alert.
Whenever they glanced back, they would spot the Seventh Apostle smiling in the distance. Her beautiful smile was chilling.
The Qi sense of a Desolate Fortress Blue-Ranked Expert was highly sensitive. This was true for both of them.
However, neither was foolish enough to ignore a supreme expert lurking a mere three hundred jang away.
In the evenings, they took turns keeping watch.
On one such cloudy night, Jeong Yeon-shin drew his Desolate Fortress Sword.
It was the dead of night, enveloped in absolute silence.
Overhead, countless stars laid themselves to rest in the darkness, while the moon pulled a veil of translucent gray clouds over its face.
Only a dreamlike, hazy moonlight drifted down. The clearing amidst the thickets was perfectly still.
The boy thought of Cheong-myeong.
Rustle.
As the moonlight diffused through the clouds, Jeong Yeon-shin's body swayed slightly.
A gentle breeze stirred around his lightly placed toes. In the next instant, he broke into a silent sprint, completely erasing his presence.
He ran noiselessly, as if dissolving into the night air.
She's asleep.
He found her immediately. It was the Seventh Apostle. She had taken off her loose red Pure Blood Robe and draped it over her shoulders, curled up asleep on a thick tree branch.
Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes narrowed. Even if he tried to mimic an assassin, she would notice him instantly.
Without hesitation, he stamped his foot. Once was enough.
The True Qi silently exploding from the Yongquan point on the sole of his foot generated a violent wave of force.
A fierce wind whipped up as he soared through the air.
Whoosh!
It took a mere split second. He rose to the level of the Seventh Apostle's eyes, close enough to feel her long breaths against his cheek.
In that very instant, their eyes met. Her slowly opening crimson eyes curved into a faint, smiling squint.
It was just as he had expected. He swung his fast sword with his right hand while channeling True Qi into his left arm.
This was his fourth fist-and-palm technique, one he hadn't even named yet. It was the simultaneous execution of the Mara Blood-Roaring Art and the Demon-Quelling Azure Steel Hand.
He felt this forced channeling of internal power gradually becoming more natural to his hands. If he could just grasp a single shred of realization, he would truly master its entry stage.
Swish!
The Seventh Apostle's foot flew out. Even kicking upward while lying on her side, she was astonishingly fast.
Her right foot, extending as if crushing the very air, pushed his sword blade aside first.
The icy blade of the Desolate Fortress Sword, originally aimed at her neck, was deflected away from Jeong Yeon-shin's chest.
Swoosh—!
Unbothered, he thrust his left hand forward. It was a palm strike loaded like a firebomb. He unleashed it ruthlessly, shoving it right toward the Seventh Apostle's face.
Boom!
The tree splintered with a loud crash. The recoil was so immense that a dull ache shot all the way to his shoulder blade.
Jeong Yeon-shin was still in midair. The moment the palm strike detonated, he was blown back like a leaf caught in a typhoon. Landing gracefully, he drew back his sword. With a faint blur, the Desolate Fortress Sword slid back into its sheath.
"Your techniques are becoming more refined by the day. Impressive, my Grand Preceptor."
A languid voice, sounding as if she hadn't fully woken up, drifted down from above. It was the Seventh Apostle. She had evaded even his palm strike.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth.
"...The True Qi, surging as if rising from the Zhongfu point, dwells in the Huozhong point with the intent of a tempest."
He murmured the fifth and sixth mnemonics of the Mara Blood-Roaring Art. It was what he was required to say.
With that, he turned around.
One strike per preemptive attack was the unwritten rule of the pact between the Seventh Apostle and Jeong Yeon-shin.
In the world of experts, a surprise attack was all about the very first strike. Anyone who allowed a second strike to be unleashed was no internal cultivation expert.
The fast sword combination was useful. It's enough to cover the weaknesses of the palm strike.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced back as he mentally reviewed his moves.
Before he realized it, the Seventh Apostle, now leaning against a different branch, was waving at him.
Lying sideways with her head propped up on one arm, she looked completely at ease.
Brushing aside a stray lock of hair, she smiled brightly.
"You must come back soon."
"......"
He turned his head away without replying.
In the distance, Namgung Hwa-shin stood atop a tree with his arms crossed.
Watching silently under the dim moonlight, he looked like a painting.
He was on guard in case the Seventh Apostle broke their agreement and attacked, prepared to join the fight at a moment's notice.
Thud!
Landing lightly with a profound body protection technique, Namgung Hwa-shin spoke.
"Indeed, your techniques are becoming more sophisticated. It feels as though I am witnessing the birth of a divine art firsthand."
"A divine art..."
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Jeong Yeon-shin let his voice trail off and shook his head.
"I don't know if I can complete it within the remaining fourteen strikes."
"She is a supreme expert capable of rivaling the Black Ranks of our main fortress. Since you are exchanging life-or-death blows with her daily, whatever the outcome, what you gain will not be small, Young Hero."
"I am simply grateful that you always watch over me. You've been dragged into my personal grudge."
"You flatter me. This rare experience is opening my eyes."
Namgung Hwa-shin smiled with a good-natured expression. A thin sheen of sweat was visible on the palms he had kept tucked in his crossed arms.
He had kept his hand ready on his sword hilt while watching the Seventh Apostle's reactions. Over the past few days, they had forged a bond no less deep than those within the Demonlight Wing.
Jeong Yeon-shin gave a slight nod, exactly as he always did. The loyalty shown by the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, was immense. He was unlike any other member of the Namgung Clan Jeong Yeon-shin had ever encountered.
"Your expression is different from usual, Young Hero. Speak freely. At this rate, we might both end up as lonely ghosts at the hands of the Seventh Apostle," Namgung Hwa-shin said with a chuckle.
Nodding, Jeong Yeon-shin finally spoke.
"During the day, you suggested we stay a night in Wuchang. I am curious about the sister you mentioned. Changryeong Hwaju, Namgung Mi."
"Ah..."
Letting out a soft sigh, Namgung Hwa-shin gave a bitter smile.
"Actually, it is nothing grand. The problem was that my mother's status was merely that of an assassin raised by the main family."
The damp wind characteristic of a summer forest brushed past their skin.
Above them, the moon, slowly peeking out from the clearing clouds, seemed to wear a mocking sneer.
"An assassin...?"
They were slowly making their way back to the campsite. Jeong Yeon-shin had asked reflexively, then quickly closed his mouth.
"You heard correctly. Many sects claim to walk the Righteous Path, but realistically, it is difficult for a powerful group to maintain true righteousness. Wealth, interests, land, military power—how could a force encompassing all of these pursue only chivalry? The guise of the Orthodox Factions is merely a way to protect their interests. Behind the scenes, they raise unseen swords."
Namgung Hwa-shin continued with a calm expression.
"It is a place called the Sword Night. They handle the dirty work that the main family's well-known Changgung Sword Heaven Unit cannot easily do—things like assassination and kidnapping. My mother was an assassin of the Sword Night, and one day, she caught the Clan Head's eye."
"......"
"And so, I was born. My talent was decent. The Clan Head wanted to make this concubine's son the leader of the Sword Night. Unlike the other illegitimate children—my half-siblings—I was not abandoned. He even granted me spirit medicines, which earned me the hatred of my legitimate sister. She claimed there wasn't even enough for her to build her own internal energy."
"Do you mean the Changryeong Hwaju, your opponent in this upcoming duel?"
"Yes. The Sword Night consists of the swords and servants of the Namgung Clan's direct line. She subjected my mother to all kinds of humiliation right in front of my eyes. Though my mother didn't seem to mind at all. She was a born assassin, after all."
"......"
"During the Mid-Autumn Festival two years ago, I received news of my mother's death. Her body wasn't even recovered from her mission. It is a common occurrence in the Sword Night, but it wasn't so simple for me. To assassinate a direct blood relative of the Lord of the Thirteen Heavens... She had been sent on an absurd mission. As it turned out, it was the work of the Changryeong Hwaju, who frequently visited the Young Master's Azure Sky Hall. They said she had secretly stamped the mission document with the seal of the Acting Clan Head."
"Forging documents... Isn't that something even a third-rate sect wouldn't stoop to?"
"The clan was turned upside down. It wasn't because a few assassins of the Sword Night had died, but because she had used the main family's sword for personal matters. The Changryeong Hwaju was sentenced to a hundred days of closed-door cultivation. For an all-powerful direct descendant, that was considered a severe punishment, but she went in laughing, as if she found the whole affair amusing."
"......"
"I left the clan immediately after that and entered the main fortress. The escape process was grueling. I couldn't even dream of revenge. It was because I was pathetic and weak. The Sword Night's training methods, designed to force the collateral branches to submit to the direct line, border on sorcery. Just like the Blood Ghosts of the Blood Flame Cult, we cannot bring ourselves to point a sword at our masters. Look at this."
Namgung Hwa-shin raised his hand. It was trembling violently.
"I only imagined cutting my sister's throat."
A life battered by years of oppression manifested in that severe tremor.
Even his lower lip quivered pitifully. The spirit of a rising star, whom anyone in the Jianghu would acknowledge as promising, was nowhere to be found.
Yet, the way he calmly laid bare his past was truly characteristic of the White Qilin.
He had spoken of what he needed to overcome. That was enough.
Jeong Yeon-shin said nothing.
He did not know that exact kind of pain, but he had known his own since birth. Born in a village rife with superstition, had he not been hated for "killing" his mother during childbirth?
Therefore, he understood solitude. Jeong Yeon-shin empathized through silence.
Was that enough? Namgung Hwa-shin smiled faintly in gratitude and leaned against a tree.
They had just arrived at the campsite. The gaze of the two fine steeds tied together swept over them, illuminated by the flickering campfire.
"Rest first."
"I will."
Calm words were exchanged.
Namgung Hwa-shin volunteered for the first watch. Jeong Yeon-shin did not decline and lay down on the ground.
Using his travel pack as a pillow and his long robe as a blanket, he closed his eyes.
"......"
The campfire crackled as it burned down. A pungent smell rose along with the sound of popping sparks. It seemed the firewood was damp.
I should have dried it with Samadhi True Fire.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt a tiny pang of regret as he drifted off to sleep.
The occasional snorting of the late-sleeping horses, the gaze of the Seventh Apostle watching from the moonlit shadows, and the aching sensation of his palm technique taking shape day by day.
Such was the boy's journey.
At least, until they reached Wuchang, where the second station was located.
* * *
Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin stayed a night at the station in Wuchang. The stations of the Ming Dynasty also served as inns, allowing them to save on expenses while enjoying decent lodgings.
There were few cities with such stations along their mission route.
Namgung Hwa-shin had anticipated some eccentric behavior from Namgung Mi, whose actions were always unconventional, and Jeong Yeon-shin agreed with him. They decided to rest for a day.
"What is that?" Namgung Hwa-shin asked.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who was lying sideways on the opposite bed, raised his head.
"It is the Diamond Sutra."
He slightly lifted the Buddhist scripture bound as a book. He had brought it along to study internal cultivation methods.
Namgung Hwa-shin nodded, accepting the answer.
Adorning Pure Lands.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze back to the scripture.
The utility of the Demon-Quelling Azure Steel Hand, which he had created after listening to the sermons of the Shaolin monks, was immense.
Having acquired Dharma Power, he was currently searching for a way to melt it into a new heart cultivation art alongside the Lord of the Desolate Fortress's Moon Spirit Harmony Art.
If he succeeded, the palm technique he was currently training would also take a massive leap forward.
He would be able to drastically reduce the casting speed of the strike.
Much like the achievements of the Jeong Family Dynamic Art that constantly filled his body, if internal energy imbued with Dharma Power could be maintained at all times, he would only need to activate a single Blood Art to execute the technique.
This would bring about a direct advancement in his overall martial arts level.
—Abide nowhere, yet let the mind arise.
As he scanned the passage, Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly raised his head. Namgung Hwa-shin, sitting across from him, did the same.
They had sensed a commotion outside. The shouting voices were loud.
Hyeonsa Gate, fight, Namgung, Namgung Clan...
"She's here. Let's go," Namgung Hwa-shin said.
He and Jeong Yeon-shin were already dressed in gray hemp clothes.
They had temporarily packed away their Desolate Fortress martial uniforms, which drew attention wherever they went, precisely for situations like this.
The two of them headed outside.
A voice infused with True Qi was echoing through the marketplace.
"Behold! The Changryeong Hwaju of the Namgung Clan has severed the head of the Unorthodox Faction's leader! A branch of the Namgung Clan will be established where the Hyeonsa Gate once stood, so you may all rest easy and return to your livelihoods!"
Following that, Jeong Yeon-shin merely pointed out the grim fate of the servants to downplay the achievement, before returning to the station with Namgung Hwa-shin.
While they were discussing how to act over the next two days, another piece of news reached them.
The actions of the Changryeong Hwaju, Namgung Mi, were ruthlessly bold.
She had completely destroyed the dantians of the Hyeonsa Gate servants who had been spared. She even damaged their mute acupoints, turning them into mutes.
And then, she reportedly took to the stage once more.
"'He who touches pitch shall be defiled,' she said. They were all in league. They, too, were practicing the heterodox martial arts of the Hyeonsa Gate."
A station servant who had received ten copper coins relayed the details.
He was a boy with highly intelligent eyes.
He said that when Namgung Mi wept pitifully with a face like a heavenly fairy, there was no one who did not hang on her every word.
"They were the servants of those who acted as if they owned the city. They were indistinguishable from the disciples. They were not commoners like you, but an unorthodox rabble who shared in the crumbs of the Hyeonsa Gate. Yet, they must have been your children, your friends, and your fathers. It was with a sorrowful heart that I punished them. Even if you point fingers at me for my lack of mercy, I will gladly endure it."
Because the Hyeonsa Gate was an extremely vicious unorthodox sect, no one blamed her.
The influence of her sweet, melting words and actions was also significant.
If anything, the relatives of the punished servants found themselves walking on eggshells around the cheering crowds.
The government offices, including the Branch Head, did not intervene either.
This was despite the fact that she had severely depleted the labor force within the government's administrative jurisdiction.
It was proof that the influence of the Namgung Clan extended far beyond the Jianghu.
Instead, rumors spread that the reputation of the chivalrous heroine Namgung Mi was soaring.
Namgung Hwa-shin's expression grew heavy.
"This will be a problem even if our main fortress wins the duel."
"If we take their heads in a life-and-death duel, the Desolate Fortress will draw resentment, at least in this vicinity," Jeong Yeon-shin replied.
Namgung Mi had begun to act as both a heavenly fairy and a king in Wuchang.
In a short span of time, her reputation in the surrounding areas was skyrocketing. Her characteristic, confident smile was still vivid in his mind.
The Desolate Fortress is a group that must always win the hearts of the people.
Even if there was a justification, they had annihilated the Hwangbo Clan, a prestigious orthodox family.
Now, they sought to cut down the leadership of the Namgung Clan as well. It was a track record that would leave them with no defense if the Orthodox Jianghu decided to unite against them.
The Grand Steward had mentioned that the leadership of the Desolate Fortress was concerned about the Martial World Alliance.
To avoid giving the massive coalition of the world's Jianghu a pretext to band together and strike the Desolate Fortress, they had to crush their opponents with absolute, righteous justification in every mission.
"There is no reason for us to hastily join the battle for justification," Namgung Hwa-shin said. "The Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, the Elder Council Head, the Head of the Desolate Ma Clan... The elders will handle it. We will receive recognition for our achievements just by doing what we can."
"Young Hero Jeong...?"
"In any conflict, isn't the saying 'pitting one enemy against another' common?"
Jeong Yeon-shin rummaged through his travel pack. The texture that immediately met his hand was chillingly soft.
It was the feel of the incredibly precious Heavenly Silkworm thread. Slowly, he pulled out a long robe as red as fresh blood.
It was the Pure Blood Robe of a Blood Flame Cult Apostle.
"We just need to find a mask. A demon mask would be perfect."
"Surely you don't mean...?"
"Tell me, Young Hero Namgung. Can I afford to show no mercy?"