The Anti-Dragon King Faction (3)

Aboard the ship bound for Yeonggang County, the site of the final battle, Cheonhwa stood on the deck and surveyed his surroundings.

To a casual eye he might have seemed merely admiring the scenery. Those with sharper instincts, however, could tell there was more to it.

Even as the vessel rocked and swayed with the current, Cheonhwa remained utterly still, as if the motion of the water held no claim over him. He was refining his balance with the Nine Palaces Footwork and Wind-Cloud Divine Form—training meant to grow accustomed, however slightly, to the unstable footing of a ship’s deck.

The last clash would almost certainly take place on the water or aboard a vessel. Better to make himself at home in such conditions now, in whatever small way he could.

While he was absorbed in that practice, a presence approached. A young Taoist with plum-blossom embroidery on his sleeves.

At the familiar face Cheonhwa spoke the name almost without thinking.

“Cheong-ha.”

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

The Huashan Sect disciple Cheong-ha smiled, clearly glad to see his old friend again.

“I heard the news. You settled that jiangshi incident that stretched across Jiangsu, Anhui, and Hubei, didn’t you?”

“I got dragged into it somehow.”

“You really do have it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rough. Trouble seems to explode wherever you go. Still, at least you never get bored, right?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a lack of boredom. More like ‘if you don’t want to die, you’d better keep running.’”

The two of them caught up on everything that had happened since their last meeting. As they talked, Cheonhwa studied Cheong-ha’s aura. It was purer and denser than before—too dramatic a change to be explained by ordinary practice or a single insight. Cheonhwa realized at once that his friend had learned a higher art.

“You’ve taken up a superior martial art?”

“Yeah. I perfected everything I’d learned so far and then took up the Plum Blossom Heart Method and the Plum Blossom Sword Formula.”

Thanks to the solid foundation Cheonhwa had helped him build, Cheong-ha had entered the realm of superior techniques far more easily than expected. The new heart method embraced his previous cultivation and lifted it to a higher plane—precisely the true strength of orthodox martial arts.

“I still haven’t reached Peak Expert, so I can’t fully deploy the Plum Blossom Sword Arts yet. Once I do, I plan to combine them with the Flower-Root Sword Formula.”

Cheong-ha laughed, saying that training—which had always been enjoyable—had become even more so of late. He could feel this joy, he added, only because Cheonhwa had been there, and he offered his thanks.

“Planning to stand at the vanguard again this time?”

“Yeah. That should raise our side’s morale.”

Though Cheonhwa was only a third-generation disciple, his name had spread far and wide. Champion of the Dragon-Phoenix Conference, a rising star who had played a major role in repelling the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace’s assault. He had also taken the lead when the jiangshi attacks began in Jiangsu, and for those merits he had been appointed commander of the Martial Alliance’s elite Guard Unit. No matter how young he was, those were not achievements one could simply ignore.

“Left-hand said Yeo Yongmyeong is likely to request a formal duel, didn’t she?”

Left-hand—true to the name, the woman who called herself Yongwang’s left arm—was a strategist of the Yangtze Waterway Sect. Her sun-browned skin and beauty gave her an exotic allure, yet she was also a Peak Expert who held an executive post among the river bandits. Like most beautiful female masters, she was a flower with sharp thorns.

“Before a large-scale pitched battle in the murim, issuing a challenge to seize the initiative isn’t all that strange.”

“He has demonic arts, so he probably figures he has the advantage even in a one-on-one.”

Left-hand had told them that if Yeo Yongmyeong issued a challenge, Cheonhwa would be their most useful card. In the eyes of the orthodox path he was a prodigy who had achieved greatness despite his youth; the unorthodox side would prefer to dismiss him as a mere upstart whose progress was simply fast for his age. Beneath that dismissal lay jealousy toward an orthodox rising star who had reached such a realm faster than many unorthodox warriors who hungered for strength. Being crushed by a new Peak Expert not yet twenty would shake them far more than losing to some middle-aged master.

“Think you can win?”

“Hard to say. I don’t even know who the opponent will be, and it’s not certain a duel will happen at all.”

If a duel did take place, though, he would face the enemy with everything he had, just as he always had.

While the two spoke, the ship drew near its destination.

“Fleet in sight!”

At the shout every gaze turned toward the river. A procession of ships stretched as if to fill the waterway—the scattered vessels of the Anti-Dragon King Faction, now gathered in one place.

And this is the scale left after multiple punitive campaigns…

How large must the original force have been when they first deserted? And how vast, then, was the Yangtze Waterway Sect itself, of which this was said to be only half?

The Dragon King Faction and the Anti-Dragon King Faction faced each other across a measured distance. From the rebel fleet a small skiff was lowered and came forward. The man aboard drew the great saber at his waist and roared so that the sound rolled across the water.

“I am Jang Go-un of the Anti-Dragon King Faction! I challenge the righteous sects of Shaanxi to a duel! Is there a rising star who can receive my saber arts?”

Exactly as expected, the Anti-Dragon King Faction had issued a challenge. They could have refused, of course—but the only things gained by refusal would be mockery for cowardice and the stain of having backed down before the unorthodox. That would sap their own side’s fighting spirit.

“I’ll be back.”

Cheonhwa stepped into the waiting skiff.

“I’m in your hands.”

“The pleasure is mine, young master.”

The elderly boatman who shared the skiff nodded at Cheonhwa’s greeting. When the old man took up the oars, the little craft glided smoothly through the current. He was clearly a specialist the Yangtze Waterway Sect had prepared for just such a purpose.

Before long the skiff drew level with Jang Go-un. Cheonhwa studied him. The man’s unusually vivid presence marked him as a Peak Expert; at the same time a foul demonic aura clung to him. Why would someone of Peak Expert caliber have turned to demonic arts?

While Cheonhwa assessed him, Jang Go-un gave him a once-over and smirked.

“White robe embroidered with clouds, a jade-colored wooden sword at your back, an aura that doesn’t match your years… So you’re the Flash Sword Dragon!”

Cheonhwa answered not with words but by drawing Okgyeong. Jang Go-un snickered.

“Even the greatest rising star of the orthodox path looks nervous. Well, how much experience can you have fighting on water? And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not even on a real ship—on a skiff, no less.”

He continued to size Cheonhwa up and mock him at will. Cheonhwa simply looked at him steadily, then spoke a single line.

“Do you fight with your mouth?”

“What did you say?!”

The taunt struck home. The smirk vanished; Jang Go-un’s face twisted with rage.

“You’ll regret those words!”

Even as he spoke he drew his great saber and sent a blade-wind of black gale screaming across the gap—a prepared, surprise attack. Cheonhwa simply raised Okgyeong into the path of the oncoming force. The blade-wind coiled around the wooden sword’s edge rather than cutting through it.

Twenty-second form of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven: Heavenly Flash.

Having cleanly received the attack, Cheonhwa layered his own sword-wind atop it and sent the combined force racing back. The doubled shockwave knifed across the water. Sensing no way to block it, Jang Go-un and his boatman both dove into the river.

KWA-AAK!

The shockwave sheared the enemy skiff cleanly in two. Jang Go-un and the boatman escaped by a hair’s breadth. Waves churned in the aftermath. Standing on his own skiff, Cheonhwa kept his balance with practiced ease and unfolded the Six Harmony Sensory Path.

He’s a river bandit. Of course he knows water arts.

Water arts—martial techniques meant to be used beneath the surface. From simple diving and long submersion to the arts of breathing and moving freely underwater, they were essential for any river pirate or naval fighter who lived with the water.

The surface gradually stilled. Cheonhwa kept a razor-edged watch on the quiet depths.

Coming…!

The instant he sensed it, the water exploded and Jang Go-un burst into view. Black wind wrapped his entire body, driving him upward; the full momentum of his underwater launch rode in his saber strike. Already tracking him with the Six Harmony Sensory Path, Cheonhwa met the descending blade with the jade wooden sword.

The moment the great saber touched Okgyeong, the strike skidded along the blade as if the wood had been oiled; the trajectory warped. The sensation of cutting empty air made Jang Go-un’s eyes fly wide.

Soft Sword neutralizing jin—Hwageong. Cheonhwa had gently redirected the entire assault.

Shwaa!

The diverted force transferred straight into the skiff. The little craft sank deep as though suddenly loaded with something heavy, then rebounded hard.

“Haaah?!”

Even the veteran boatman clung to the gunwales in shock. The aftershock of the jin release spread outward and set the surface rolling. Jang Go-un used the rebound of the clash to dive beneath the water once more.

This can’t go on.

If things continued this way the enemy would simply keep striking from underwater with impunity. Cheonhwa’s Soft Sword principles were still incomplete; the longer the exchange dragged on, the more disadvantageous it would become. To reverse the situation he would have to overturn the board itself.

“Hold on tight.”

“Ah—right.”

At the warning the old man locked both hands on the skiff. Once Cheonhwa saw he was ready, he drew a breath and leapt skyward. The skiff rocked lightly and sent ripples across the water.

Aloft, Cheonhwa thrust Okgyeong toward the heavens. Force swirled along the jade blade, sparks of lightning dancing across it—clear herald of a finishing technique.

Lightning stabbed down into the calm surface. The water absorbed the impact and caved inward—an omen of the rebound to come.

KWA-AANG!

The hollowed water surged upward in a colossal shockwave. The force was so great that even the distant fleets of both sides, moored at a careful distance, rocked on their keels. And it was not only water that was thrown skyward.

“Keheuk?!”

Jang Go-un, still submerged, was blasted into the open air by the shock. Fully exposed to the jin release that had flooded the depths, he was left completely defenseless. Cheonhwa did not miss the opening.

Whoosh!

Wind-Cloud Divine Form wrapped his body in wind and steadied his motion. He could not leap through the air like a Super Expert, but he could still correct his posture mid-flight.

Five streams of sword energy fanned out from a single slash, painting the empty air. Sunlight and sword-light fused until the eye could scarcely bear to look; in that brilliance a blade of pure white intent severed Jang Go-un’s life, its reflection shimmering on the trembling water below.

Having turned the Anti-Dragon King Faction’s vanguard into fish food, Cheonhwa settled lightly back onto the skiff. The little craft creaked ominously under the strain, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he ignored the sound and raised his voice so that every ear could hear.

“The vanguard is defeated!”

Waaaaaah!

A roar of cheers erupted from the Shaanxi orthodox fleet. Morale soared, and in that instant the flow of the battlefield swung decisively toward the righteous path.