Chapter 89: The Art of Instant Death
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 89: The Art of Instant Death
The destruction of the Hyeonsa Gate was a monumental event. Day after day, it dominated the gossip in Wuchang.
The martial sects that held regional hegemony exerted immense influence over the livelihoods of the common people. This was especially true for the Unorthodox Factions.
When an Unorthodox sect established itself in a city, the commoners' tribute burden would often skyrocket three- or fourfold. Under the guise of maintaining order, they extorted protection fees, indiscriminately seizing copper, silver, daily necessities, and even people.
And as the famine dragged on, the local government's authority had plummeted to rock bottom.
In other words, it would take a truly extraordinary event to shift the focus of the streets of Wuchang.
"A Blood Ghost?"
"Keep your voice down. I heard it wasn't just any Blood Ghost. It wiped out the warriors of the Namgung Clan in an instant..."
"That's right. Rumor has it she's from a noble bloodline of that wicked cult. With that level of martial prowess, it's entirely possible. Watch your neck. You never know when you might end up as a sacrifice for her Blood Art."
In a corner of the marketplace, people gathered in small groups, whispering nervously among themselves.
"Sigh... the streets will be dead at night. I'll have to lock my doors the moment the sun sets."
"We'll all have to do that for a while."
"Quiet...!"
A middle-aged man hissed, his face pale with shock. He exhaled a sharp breath, as if trying to expel his terror.
A heavy hush spread down the street as three figures walked into view.
The woman walking in the center was particularly striking. With skin as white as jade and dressed in dark blue light martial attire, she looked like a celestial maiden descended to the mortal realm.
Every martial artist present recognized her. She was the Changryeong Hwaju of the Namgung Clan, whom the locals had recently been praising for her peerless beauty, martial prowess, and achievements.
"Then those two must be..." someone muttered.
The rumors had already spread far and wide. An admirable tale was circulating about Namgung Mi, who had been left entirely alone after losing her escort warriors to a noble of the Blood Flame Cult.
The story went that White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin and Flash Art Jeong Yeon-shin had welcomed their life-and-death duel opponent into their party to protect her. It was said that the martial artists of Wuchang who witnessed this were deeply moved by their magnanimity.
The outstanding rookies of the Desolate Fortress naturally drew all eyes. Unless they met an unfortunate, untimely death away from home, they were destined to become some of the greatest experts in the martial world.
The bizarre companionship of those destined to fight to the death was gradually becoming known to all.
"I believe your title is Flash Art?" Namgung Mi suddenly spoke. Her tone was casual, dripping with condescension.
She no longer seemed to care about the gazes of outsiders. Perhaps she knew there was nothing she could do about the staring anyway. This was certainly not the tone she used in public.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer.
They had already exchanged fierce blows. The boy was not thick-skinned enough to converse casually with her just because she didn't recognize his bare face. Besides, she was someone who would die soon anyway. He had no desire to waste words on her.
"Now even trivial things are getting on my nerves," Namgung Mi said, her lips curling into a crooked smirk. Her light, rustling footsteps exuded an air of absolute leisure.
Even the dark blue fabric of her light martial attire, designed strictly for ease of movement, draped over her like a grand court dress.
She behaved this way even though she had to know that this 'protection' was merely a public excuse—she was practically a prisoner of the Desolate Fortress.
"..."
Jeong Yeon-shin merely glanced at her.
It seemed to be in her nature. She had been raised like royalty in Southern Zhili. Born of the direct Namgung bloodline, she had built a rigid, unyielding world of her own. Even after experiencing a major crisis, her arrogant attitude toward the world remained entirely unchanged.
She had no idea that the demon-masked figure in the Pure Blood Robe was actually Jeong Yeon-shin. It was a connection that even most martial artists of the Desolate Fortress would find hard to make.
How trivial, the boy thought. How did he look in the eyes of Namgung Mi, whose gaze was always raised in innate arrogance?
Judging by the personality he had witnessed, she likely viewed him as nothing more than a nuisance who had triggered the life-and-death duel between the Desolate Fortress and the Namgung Clan.
There's no reason to reveal it. That identity will be useful for other missions as well.
Jeong Yeon-shin maintained an indifferent expression. He didn't even treat Namgung Mi as a person worth his attention.
Only Namgung Hwa-shin's face grew visibly uncomfortable as he watched his half-sister's petulant behavior.
"Namgung Mi. Mind your manners. Young Hero Jeong is the direct disciple of our Fortress Lord. His status is no less noble than yours."
"My dear Hwa-shin, your jokes have improved far more than your martial arts." Namgung Mi's lips curled upward. "The disciple of a bizarre, supernatural monster who only lives because she cannot die is noble? Unless the word 'noble' has become a joke, I beg to differ."
"What did you say?"
"How long do you think the Lord of the Desolate Fortress can remain above the clouds? The great sects of the martial world are no fools. First the Hwangbo Clan, then the main branch of the Blood Flame Cult, and now our clan. Who will be next? Her actions are absurdly arrogant and excessive. Do you really think the Eight Families and the Thirteen Heavens will just sit back and watch?"
"..."
Namgung Hwa-shin fell silent, his expression turning grim.
In Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes, Hwa-shin seemed incredibly soft. Was it because he had grown up as the leader of the Sword Night, subjected to sorcerous loyalty brainwashing? It was frustrating to see him lose a minor argument to his mother's enemy right before his eyes.
Letting out a smirk, Namgung Mi turned her head and glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin.
"Little boy. The same goes for you. I doubt you've inherited all of her true martial arts. There's no way those associated with the Imperial Family would give away everything they have. How are you any different from our Eight Families, where bloodline is everything? You're just a pitiful half-measure."
"Calling it the Eight Families sounds strange," Jeong Yeon-shin said calmly.
"What?"
"It should be the Seven Families by now. Actually, the Six Families has a better ring to it. What do you think? They seem to dwindle so easily anyway."
"Why, you..."
It was a response she had clearly never anticipated. Her eyes widened, and she let out a dismissive laugh as she opened her mouth to speak, but Jeong Yeon-shin quietly cut her off.
"Uphold the dignity of a formal duel. Even if the character of your Namgung Clan is wretched, the reason we show you courtesy is because the prestige of our martial arts depends on the caliber of our opponent. If the one I am to fight to the death lacks weight, how utterly hollow would my victory be?"
"..."
"If you don't understand, feel free to keep babbling. It will only prove the limits of your capacity."
Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head away as he finished speaking. He caught a glimpse of Namgung Mi's beautiful eyebrows contorting in rage, but he only felt that the conversation had dragged on far too long.
She wasn't worth spending more than ten breaths of his time on.
"A half-measure lecturing me about capacity?"
After a scoffing retort, Namgung Mi fell silent for a while. Arrogant and unreasonable as she was, she was still the daughter of a prestigious martial clan. She seemingly had nothing more to say to someone who invoked the stature of a formal duel.
After that, her expression when looking at Jeong Yeon-shin changed subtly. Although her haughty attitude—as if looking down on an inferior—remained unchanged, Jeong Yeon-shin occasionally caught her scrutinizing his entire body.
Changryeong Hwaju Namgung Mi. What had she sensed?
For a brief moment, he wondered if she had connected him to the demon mask, but he quickly dismissed the thought. The noble in the Pure Blood Robe and Flash Art of the Demonlight Wing were entirely different entities.
Even her tone was different. It wasn't a comment meant to provoke.
He decided it was nothing to worry about.
Meanwhile, the boy suddenly apologized to Namgung Hwa-shin. "When I spoke of the Namgung Clan..."
"No, it is fine. It was actually quite refreshing." Namgung Hwa-shin waved his hand with a cheerful laugh. Both of them completely ignored Namgung Mi's scoff.
Thus, a bizarre party was formed: the half-siblings of the Namgung Clan, Jeong Yeon-shin, and the Seventh Apostle, whose red eyes gleamed in the distance.
It was an arrangement destined to last only until the life-and-death duel against the Namgung Clan. Namgung Mi and the Seventh Apostle had to die. Yet, the winds of the turbulent martial world were notoriously merciless. Far from just those two, all four of them might end up perishing.
The Seventh Apostle, the Azure Qilin.
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled his two main targets. He hoped that he and Namgung Hwa-shin would complete their mission unscathed.
* * *
To reach Huizhou in Southern Zhili, where the Namgung Clan was located, one had to pass through Huangzhou.
Such was the route of the post stations. It was the only path leading from Wuchang in Huguang Province to Southern Zhili.
The party entered a large inn.
"It would be best to stay here for the night and then make a forced march. It seems troublesome rumors are spreading."
"You said Huizhou is just past this road. That sounds like a plan."
Having exchanged words with Namgung Hwa-shin, Jeong Yeon-shin walked toward an empty table. Namgung Mi and Namgung Hwa-shin followed immediately.
At a table for four, Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Mi sat side by side, with Namgung Hwa-shin sitting opposite them.
This seating arrangement was intentional. Jeong Yeon-shin trusted the eyes of Namgung Hwa-shin, who had trained in his clan's supreme eye techniques for a long time.
The White Qilin's gaze was sharp as he closely watched his sister, who was both his blood relative and his enemy. He looked ready to strike the moment she made a suspicious move.
Namgung Mi, however, seemed entirely unconcerned. After ordering food from the waiter, she stared blankly at the copy of the Diamond Sutra that Jeong Yeon-shin had pulled out.
"A Buddhist scripture? Don't tell me you're a Buddhist."
As always, Jeong Yeon-shin ignored her.
From here on out, they were close to Huizhou. This meant they were officially within the Namgung Clan's sphere of influence. News of the duel was bound to be more widespread here than in any other region. They had to be on guard against unexpected variables.
True to expectations, the inn was currently bustling with noisy chatter.
"Business is booming, absolutely booming. Martial artists from all over the land are gathering."
"It's a duel between the Desolate Fortress and the Namgung Clan. Where else would we get to see the martial arts of such lofty figures?"
"Are the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps and the Namgung Clan Head really going to clash? I can't believe it. I don't think I will until I see it with my own eyes."
"I hope the Namgung Clan wins. If the Desolate Fortress puts up a good fight..."
"Even the prices here in Huangzhou will fluctuate. For our merchant group to survive, stability is best."
It seemed to be a common topic of conversation here. There was no other reason for them to speak so loudly, as if intentionally wanting the Desolate Fortress martial artists to hear.
Because it was the talk of the town, all sorts of conversations naturally drifted into the ears of Jeong Yeon-shin's party.
Those who had already recognized the martial uniforms of Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin remained silent. Those who hadn't continued to wag their tongues.
"Hasn't the Namgung Young Master also drawn his sword recently? I heard his opponent is a rising star named Flash Art, who supposedly made great contributions during the Blood Flame Cult incident."
"Isn't this a duel to decide who will stand at the peak of the future martial world? I'm curious to see who is truly the greatest among the younger generation."
"The Young Master is the Young Master. How can you measure him with a mere term like 'rising star'?"
Listening to the conversation from her seat next to Jeong Yeon-shin, Namgung Mi's lips curved smoothly upward. She turned her head slightly to look at Jeong Yeon-shin, speaking with a soft smile and a quiet chuckle.
"What they say is not entirely wrong. To your eyes, which only see what is right in front of you, our Namgung Clan might seem no different from the Unorthodox Factions. But to the common people, at least, we are an Orthodox Faction like no other. When floods strike, we distribute grain for relief, and when Unorthodox scum cause trouble, the warriors of Namgung step in."
"..."
"A mere rising star cannot withstand the Imperial Sword Form of our direct line. My brother has refined his mastery of the sword form to an unfathomable level. Isn't that reason enough for your defeat? Furthermore, since our Namgung Clan does nothing but good for the people's livelihood..." Namgung Mi said with a faint laugh, "It means you can close your eyes in peace beneath my brother's sword."
"Doesn't your mouth get tired? Spouting such meaningless words."
At Jeong Yeon-shin's indifferent reply, her smile deepened. The expression on her pale face was peculiar.
"Or..."
"...?"
"You could surrender beforehand and submit to our clan. I'll let you wash my feet. I'm being serious."
Washing feet. It was the exact phrase Jeong Yeon-shin had uttered when he was pretending to be a noble of the Blood Flame Cult.
Is she testing me? Or was it just her usual malicious, meaningless banter?
Just as Jeong Yeon-shin was pondering the intent behind her words—
Whoosh!
Suddenly, dozens of sharp gusts of wind blew into the inn. It was a black wind, carrying a human figure.
Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin reacted instantly to the momentum rushing in at an astonishing speed. Rather than drawing their swords, they activated their True Qi first.
A truly immense wave of energy surged in, threatening to tear their bodies to shreds. However, the intruder did not target them.
Crash!
Ebony hair fluttered with a translucent sheen. A hand, stretching out like a swift sword cutting through the air, clamped down on both of Namgung Mi's cheeks.
The fingers were just as pale as Namgung Mi's. A sinister wave rippled from the movement as she hoisted Namgung Mi straight into the air. It was an overwhelming display of martial prowess.
"You."
The Seventh Apostle's red lips curved into a smile.
"What did you just say?"