Cleanup
Cho-un found the present situation utterly absurd.
The jiangshi advance had been all but a surprise assault. Exploiting the fact that corpses never tired, they had forced a forced march even a martial artist would have found grueling. Meanwhile the major sects had poured their strength toward the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace, leaving the martial artists still in Wuhan little better than a ragtag mob.
That should have been the case…
“How in the world did they manage to form ranks this cleanly?”
Cho-un focused his vision technique on the Martial Alliance host arrayed in the distance. They had never properly trained together, so a certain clumsiness still clung to them; even so, they had not simply rushed out to meet the jiangshi. They had prepared.
The Martial Alliance is a coalition of countless orthodox sects, as numerous as its membership. Yet it’s moving like this without a proper Alliance Leader?
Once the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace campaign ended and the organization was overhauled, things might improve. For now the Alliance was little more than a message network—hopelessly inadequate as a fighting force. The scene before him, however, made a mockery of every such expectation.
What on earth happened to produce this kind of miracle?
Frowning, Cho-un studied the Alliance lines more carefully. At their head stood a young Daoist whose presence burned with unusual clarity.
Jade-colored wooden sword, white robe embroidered with cloud patterns, a realm far too high for his youth… So that’s him—Flash Sword Dragon Cheonhwa.
Cho-un recognized the young Daoist at once. The man who had played a decisive part in repelling the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace’s attack at the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, and the undisputed champion of that same gathering—the foremost rising talent of the orthodox path.
I heard he was first-class, yet he hasn’t even reached the age of majority and he’s already a Peak Expert.
Even a heaven-sent prodigy of ages past should not have managed such a leap so easily. It would almost be more believable if he were some ancient master hiding his strength behind a rejuvenated body.
Is he the reason the plan is coming apart?
As if confirming Cho-un’s suspicion, Cheonhwa stepped forward and began to lead. The orthodox martial artists who had been faltering before the jiangshi host fell in behind him one after another; almost at once their morale climbed.
The original plan had been to smash the Alliance’s rabble with the jiangshi swarm. Now a single man had rewritten the atmosphere of the entire battlefield.
No—not yet. Their preparation was unexpected, but the operation has not failed.
Crushing the Alliance outright would have been ideal, yet even grinding down their strength and trampling their pride would still count as a handsome success. Unease at the sudden disruption of the plan gnawed at him, but Cho-un forced it down and fixed his attention on the fight ahead.
At last the Martial Alliance and the jiangshi host collided.
A blood-soaked clash of the living and the dead. On that field where blood and death tangled together, the living held the upper hand—thanks to Cheonhwa and the other Peak Experts carving through the jiangshi, severing head after head.
Yet that was exactly what the Daoists of Guigokmun had wanted.
Good. It’s proceeding as planned.
Every time a jiangshi was disabled, death qi and demonic qi billowed outward—and the remaining jiangshi drank it all. Their numbers dwindled, but their quality climbed without pause.
It doesn’t matter if the lesser ones are ruined. Better that they break and become offerings.
What mattered to Guigokmun were only the Ink Spirit Jiangshi—the ones the Martial Alliance had named Mungnyeong-gangsi, each comparable to a Peak Expert. Everything else was raw material meant to empower them. If the energy of hundreds of Demon Spirit Jiangshi could be concentrated into the Ink Spirit Jiangshi, the resulting monsters would be terrifying indeed.
They’re starting to struggle against the jiangshi.
Cho-un swept the battlefield with his gaze. Scores of jiangshi already littered the ground, yet the tide was steadily turning in the corpses’ favor. The Martial Alliance abandoned its offensive and chose retreat.
Cho-un snapped an order to his martial brothers.
“Pursue them!”
In this region the only refuge the orthodox dogs could reach was Wuhan itself. The moment the jiangshi host entered the city, the pride of the orthodox path would be ground into the dirt. That alone would recoup their investment, so Cho-un ordered the chase.
But the Alliance’s withdrawal was a trap.
Before anyone realized it, the fighting force of the Namgung Family had seized their rear. Reinforcements arrived; the Martial Alliance wheeled about and counterattacked at once. Caught between two fronts and battered from both sides, the jiangshi host saw the momentum reverse yet again.
Watching it happen, Cho-un’s face twisted as a matter of course.
“I wanted to wear them down first, but there’s no choice. Move the jiangshi.”
“Yes, Senior Brother.”
One by one the Daoists of Guigokmun closed their eyes and concentrated. The Ink Spirit Jiangshi began to move in earnest.
“Avoid fights with Peak Experts as much as possible. Use the defective ones as bait and shields—preserve the ones we’re controlling.”
Obeying Cho-un’s command, the Guigokmun Daoists focused on whittling down the enemy’s strength.
Then it happened.
A rocket of fireworks streaked into the sky. Cho-un’s eyes followed the trail on pure reflex—and there, of all places, stood martial artists of the Jegal Family together with a Beggars’ Sect disciple.
“You bastards!”
Rage boiled up. Cho-un hurled the Ink Spirit Jiangshi that had been guarding him. In an instant the corpse smashed the sneaking rats to the ground.
“To have our position exposed by a blunder in something so trivial…!”
“Senior Brother! A martial artist is breaking through the jiangshi swarm and coming straight for us!”
“Move the jiangshi and stop him!”
“We’re already trying, but the other martial artists are interfering—we can’t pin him down!”
At his junior brother’s report Cho-un bit his lip. Why was everything unraveling so thoroughly? Yet he had no leisure to curse misfortune. A Peak Expert was already racing toward them, following the signal.
White robe embroidered with cloud patterns streaming behind him, jade-colored wooden sword in hand—the young Daoist.
Flash Sword Dragon Cheonhwa.
The single most likely cause of every disruption.
Cho-un frantically yanked out a talisman to defend himself—but Cheonhwa was a step faster.
Light exploded from the jade wooden sword.
When the thunder-flash that had erupted from Okgyeong faded, the result of the technique stood revealed.
Regrettably, none of the sorcerers had died or been wounded.
They used an Ink Spirit Jiangshi as a shield.
Before Cheonhwa’s eyes lay an Ink Spirit Jiangshi reduced to a tattered wreck. Even with intent reinforcement layered on top of the strike, it had only managed to shatter the limbs. Truly a jiangshi whose body was hard enough that even Intent Qi Manifestation struggled to cut it.
And that was not the only fruit of the attack.
“Kh—!”
Blood streamed from the mouth of the man who appeared to be the sorcerers’ leader. Because the Ink Spirit Jiangshi and its controller were linked. Cheonhwa perceived the connection through his spiritual consciousness.
I couldn’t sense it from a distance, but up close the link is clear.
Sorcery was bound to the spirit of the upper dantian and required a kind of inspiration akin to the spiritual consciousness gained through later enlightenment. That connection must also be a technique that employed such inspiration.
I felt a strange dissonance earlier… so they were controlling them by linking minds.
That explained how the jiangshi could display intelligence instead of mere bestial motion. Yet the method was clearly not without cost. Just as he was seeing now, the jiangshi’s damage rebounded directly onto the sorcerer.
“Protect Senior Brother!”
“Don’t let him get any closer!”
Their leader in danger, the remaining sorcerers responded at once. Two Ink Spirit Jiangshi charged Cheonhwa. He met their assault with Okgyeong; the recoil that traveled up his arm reminded him once more just how hard those bodies were.
This isn’t cold iron or black iron. It surpasses even the level of “blade-and-sword immunity.”
What sort of arts could create a body tougher than that? Trusting their unyielding flesh, the Ink Spirit Jiangshi simply pushed forward. Judging that a clumsy offensive would only wreck his hands, Cheonhwa shifted to the defensive and received them.
The sheer robustness of an Ink Spirit Jiangshi’s body was itself a weapon. The force packed into each punch was no different from a human-sized lump of iron being swung. Yet no matter how massive a lump of iron might be, it could never seize the wind.
The moment their strikes touched Cheonhwa’s wooden sword, the direction of the attacks twisted as if by a lie.
Neutralizing Jin, employing the principles of the soft sword.
A sword principle that harmonized perfectly with the Blue Heaven Qi Art. He had not yet reached the level of collapsing an opponent’s center or reversing their force against them, but buying a brief span of time was more than enough.
And that brief span was long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
“Daoist Cheonhwa!”
“We’ve come to help!”
A heavy iron sword that seemed to hold the sky itself, and a willow-leaf saber wreathed in crimson lightning, drove back the Ink Spirit Jiangshi that had been pressing Cheonhwa.
Namgung Myeong and Paeng Mu-jin had come to his aid.
“What of the main force?”
“The Wudang elite are holding the line.”
Wudang swordsmanship centered on the soft sword; they might not be able to win, but they could endure. Combined with sword formations, they had bound the movements of the remaining Ink Spirit Jiangshi.
“Leave this place to us. Go seize the ringleader.”
“Thank you, Hero Namgung Myeong, Hero Paeng Mu-jin!”
Cheonhwa offered his gratitude and once more charged the sorcerers. They should have fled long ago, yet they remained rooted in place with their eyes closed.
They aren’t refusing to run—they can’t run.
He understood their predicament a moment later. While controlling the jiangshi they had to concentrate entirely on the link and could not move. Threads of connection still stretched from several of their heads toward the jiangshi host—clearly the ones currently pinning down the Ink Spirit Jiangshi that the Wudang and other elites were holding back.
If they released control they could move, but then nothing would stop the experts. If they kept control, they could not move their own bodies. A perfect dead end.
“You—Flash Sword Dragon!”
Cho-un, leader of the sorcerers and senior of Guigokmun, spat the title with raw hatred, eyes locked on Cheonhwa. At the same time the link to the already-ruined jiangshi seemed to thicken; ghostly light began to gather in the corpse’s cataract-clouded eyes.
“I’ll at least take you with me before I die!”
With Cho-un’s declaration the Ink Spirit Jiangshi moved. Its motion was explosive on a level entirely different from before. Even Cheonhwa could see the unyielding body screaming under the strain, yet the corpse ignored the damage and swung its fist solely to kill.
At the same instant a survival instinct blared like an alarm bell.
Don’t block it—dodge!
Heeding the warning, Cheonhwa unfolded the Nine Palaces Footwork. The fist grazed past him, and a brutal, heavy sound like air itself being shattered rang in his ears.
The heavy fist techniques the Ink Spirit Jiangshi unleashed were linear and simple. Yet the jin force packed into them was far too ferocious to dismiss as mere simplicity—as though a master who had perfected the foundations of both external and internal arts stood before him. Even ordinary forms therefore carried the power of exquisite ultimate techniques.
But if one looked only at foundations, Cheonhwa was not lacking either. That was why he could find the flaw in the seemingly perfect Ink Spirit Jiangshi.
Trusting its durability, it swings with large motions and never hesitates.
Large motions needed time to transition into the next. The corpse papered over that gap with overwhelming physical ability, yet the opening was not zero. Cheonhwa did not miss that instant; he drove into it.
A low hum. Okgyeong, already one with his mind and sword, trembled finely. Four-colored energy concentrated into the jade blade and poured forth light, revealing a presence like the dawn that drives back the dark of night.
Twenty-Fifth Form
White Day Under Heaven
A blade of will, amplified by intent, plunged down upon the Ink Spirit Jiangshi. A single flash of light finally cleaved the corpse cleanly in two.
“Keuagh?!”
When the Ink Spirit Jiangshi was utterly destroyed, the rebound made Cho-un vomit blood and stagger. His ashen face and violently trembling body made him look like a living corpse; it was plain the sorcerer could offer no further resistance.
The last obstacle guarding the sorcerers was gone. Nothing remained to hinder him. Cheonhwa swept Okgyeong in a wide arc and knocked every remaining sorcerer unconscious. Like puppets whose strings had been cut, the Ink Spirit Jiangshi froze in place.
“The Ink Spirit Jiangshi have stopped! Flash Sword Dragon did it!”
“Don’t waste the chance! Push them now!”
In an instant the front line swung heavily in the Martial Alliance’s favor. With even the Ink Spirit Jiangshi that had been pinning the Peak Experts immobilized, there was no reason left to lose.
And so the last Demon Spirit Jiangshi was destroyed, and silence settled over the battlefield.
Only the sound of wind and the ragged breathing of survivors filled the air—until someone’s murmur drifted out.
“Did we… win?”
That single sentence became the spark. People began to react one after another.
“We won. We won!”
“We beat those jiangshi bastards!”
“We’re alive!”
“Waaaaaah!”
Even amid chaos they had survived and claimed victory. Cheers rolled across the plain like a living wave.