Chapter 233 - Treasured Sword (6)

First an uninvited visitor in a cloak, and now a young master wreathed in stormlike waves of force. Something almost inconceivable was unfolding in Xi'an's Murim.

Were they challenging the order imposed on this martial world by the evil and unorthodox paths?

Only the winter wind stirred noisily at the window frames of the deathly silent inn, battering the windows as though dancing.

The smooth-skinned patrons in silks that reflected the lantern light sat in silence. These were people who could afford to frequent an expensive inn even in a famine year. From every side, they watched the two men without a word, their gazes devoid of warmth.

The Supreme Flame Dragon seemed unconcerned.

“Someone die?”

He tilted his head from side to side, then spoke matter-of-factly.

“Chief, I went and checked.”

He used that peculiar address like a member of the unorthodox path, standing in the middle of an inn left in disarray by the waves of force he had unleashed from his entire body.

Chopsticks and spoons lay scattered everywhere. The rows of lanterns overhead hung twisted at odd angles, casting a pale orange glow—a color much like his martial robes.

“Nowhere to stay. Every place is full.”

He tossed the words out with easy impudence.

His disguise had required him to stop taking poppies for a while. The Hwangbo clan's wastrel was famous for his addiction to red petals, after all. From the moment he entered Xi'an with nothing in his mouth, his temper had deteriorated.

It was almost fortunate that he still recognized his own captain.

Jung Yeonshin frowned slightly. Judging by the shattered wall, they would need to pay for the damage, but handing silver to the proprietor was difficult while posing as unorthodox martial artists.

Paying in secret posed the same problem. Xi'an's Murim was said to be a den of iniquity where no one's discretion could be trusted.

'Just what you'd expect from the scion of a regional noble clan...'

The Supreme Flame Dragon stood there blankly. He had lived like Jinan royalty since birth, as was generally true of the powerful martial families that had established themselves as noble clans.

Changing his behavior would be difficult. Yeonshin could only look at him in dismay.

The Supreme Flame Dragon curled his lips upward.

“I can read your thoughts, Chief. You hide them so well with a sword in your hand.”

The captain of the Radiant Demon Squad was not good at examining his own disposition. Those around him knew it well. The Supreme Flame Dragon thought he would be quite a sight at his own age.

'Though I won't live to see it.'

Laughing inwardly at the idle thought, he spoke.

“Let's stay here. We would have had to smash up one place anyway. This worked out rather well. Just what I'd expect of the promising young man who enjoys our sect leader's undivided favor.”

“All this needless rampaging.”

“Try giving it up yourself, Chief. I never thought I'd suffer torture like this after joining.”

“...”

Jung Yeonshin slowly relaxed his brow. His gaze drifted aside before he realized it.

Even after reaching Black rank, he still found this subordinate difficult to read. Yet he could hardly keep berating a man in pain.

He knew neither the pain inflicted by the Solar Divine Meridians nor the sensation of taking poppies. He never would.

'As long as he clears away the smell of liquor when he needs to.'

Shaking his head inwardly, Jung Yeonshin tightened his right hand. A thick mass of the unorthodox man's hair gathered in his grip.

The gifted disciple of the Remnant-Revering Earth Sect, who had spoken so casually of murdering commoners, squirmed.

The chief of these evil and unorthodox men paid him no heed.

“...!”

He shoved So Yurang's head away and gave the leg of a backless chair a light kick. Pushed by the toe of his shoe, it briefly scraped across the floor. Unlike the chairs in the Desolate Fortress, it was wooden.

A question suddenly occurred to him. How many members of the noble race were there in Xi'an's martial world? Were there members of that exalted people who had joined the evil and unorthodox paths?

'I did see a corrupt magistrate at the Hwangbo branch family...'

Jung Yeonshin slowly parted his lips.

“Where's Fair Eyes?”

That was Zhuge Cheonga's alias for the mission, bestowed because her eye techniques were the most accomplished among the Radiant Demon Squad's experts.

The Supreme Flame Dragon was Great Idler, and Heon Wonchang was True Elder Brother.

A great loafer and a true elder brother—names simple enough to pass muster in the largely illiterate Underworld. Jung Yeonshin had come up with all of them.

“She should be coming with True Little Brother. I imagine they've had no luck either. Seems the men here ran out of estates and started using inns as their bases.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon finished, demoting Heon Wonchang to a younger brother.

His foot slid over to So Yurang's throat as the man coughed dryly.

The Adam's apple that had pronounced on commoners' deaths like a judge and promised to teach a Desolate Fortress captain a lesson twitched. A polished black leather shoe pressed down carelessly beneath his chin.

“Young talents die away from home all the time. Do you know why?”

“Ghurk!”

“Because they don't know their place. Start by telling us how you got that Eclipse of the Nine Suns. Before I pluck out those useless, disrespectful eyes of yours.”

The Supreme Flame Dragon spoke with a stark white smile.

There was something pale about its texture. It carried a hint of madness.

Just then, the inn's wooden floor shook beneath the feet of people rising in sudden resolve.

The patrons who had been hesitating abandoned their meals and stood. The people of Xi'an were accustomed to fights between martial artists. They could recognize when the atmosphere was growing worse.

Realizing they might not be able to leave unless they left now, they streamed in from the upper stairs and both sides, walking almost at a run. In an instant, the place was bustling.

A haze of dust rose even from the reasonably well-swept floor. Some offered awkward parting words, their faces concealing their anxiety.

“We fear we might interfere with the affairs of such eminent masters. We shall take our leave...”

“We'll go straight home and stay indoors! We won't breathe a word of what happened today, not a word...!”

They wanted no involvement with these outsiders. They feared reprisals later.

Their intentions were clear in their conduct, which seemed to embody the current state of Xi'an's martial world.

Even after seeing the Remnant-Revering Earth Sect's experts reduced to crawling miserably on the floor, they behaved in accordance with the vast order binding together the unorthodox sects under the Lingering Spirits and the Tyrant Sword Tribe.

They passed without even looking at the two uninvited visitors.

Jung Yeonshin did not stop them.

The Supreme Flame Dragon, who had been idly kicking So Yurang and Gal Dojin in turn, also eased out of the way. When martial artists who appeared to be the sect's lackeys swept their eyes over him on their way out, he answered with an imitation of his captain.

An impudent smile accompanied it. The pleasure of teasing Jung Yeonshin overcame his pain.

“What?”

Just as he deliberately clipped the word short—

CREAK.

One quick-witted man in silk threw open the inn's door.

An unfamiliar gust suddenly swept inside, stirring the black collar of Jung Yeonshin, who stood motionless.

The polished rosewood inner door brushed the hands of the fleeing guests. With the cold wind came a noisy clamor.

It was the commotion raised by the unorthodox bands of Xi'an's Lantian County.

Laughter and shouting drifted from far away through the windows of countless inns and taverns. The wind smelled rank, like raw meat.

This was a martial world he had never experienced.

Sunset light, folded into the gap between the doors, shimmered over Jung Yeonshin's eyelashes.

So many people were connected to Jung Hye's disappearance. He did not even know where his hateful elder brother was. The whereabouts of Sword Dragon, the great hero who had helped him time and again, were another concern.

'Isn't there some way to resolve everything at once?'

The Radiant Demon Squad captain's eyes sank into fathomless blackness.

* * *

An inn servant's livelihood was an exhausting one.

All the more so in Xi'an. The destruction of the great Zhongnan Sect and the ascendance of the Thirteen skies had placed it wholly under unorthodox rule.

The martial artists filling the sprawling city were divided into two camps: the sects of the Tyrant Sword and the subordinates of the Lingering Spirits. Several sects had established themselves together in each county.

In Lantian County, Whiteburn Gate belonged to the Tyrant Sword camp, while the Remnant-Revering Earth Sect served the Lingering Spirits.

It was their world.

Their rivalry was suffocating. Even the county magistrate and the prefect had turned their backs on the people's welfare.

Taking a commoner's head had become almost as easy as turning over a hand. Even a servant at the Northern Radiance Inn knew that.

Head bowed, the shaggy-haired boy carried a dinner tray up to the top floor.

He pressed down firmly with the balls of his feet. The wooden stairs were bound to creak underfoot, but he muffled the sound as much as he could.

The living embodiments of Xi'an's unorthodox order must not be made aware of a mere inn servant.

Nothing good could come of drawing such masters' attention in any way. Fortunately, the boy was practiced at this.

“I've brought the dishes to accompany your drinks.”

He kept his voice composed and low as well.

He entered a room where orchids lined the windows, drinking in the brilliant sunlight.

As he approached the table set for two, he lowered his gaze to his feet. This was a meeting between the leaders of the Remnant-Revering Earth Sect and Whiteburn Gate. He had to behave as though serving commandery princes.

He could not look at either face. He must not even consider it.

Despite having conquered Xi'an, the unorthodox sect leaders shrouded themselves in mystery, so that fear would arise naturally among the common people.

He carefully slid the food onto the table. The spicy aroma of stir-fried kung pao chicken spread from his fingertips.

He stood between the two sect leaders and their overpowering presences.

As he transferred the dinner dishes one by one, the clever servant felt a fresh gratitude for the custom of dining at raised tables. It spared him from looking at the rulers' faces.

“So, I hear you took charge of the surviving Zhongnan disciples. How are you treating them now?”

A weighty voice rang out. It belonged to Jang Giil, leader of Whiteburn Gate.

“Treating them?”

The woman opposite him snorted—an attitude difficult to display toward anyone but a sect leader of equal standing. She was Wi Ilhwa, leader of the Remnant-Revering Earth Sect.

An unorthodox archfiend said to place her sect's safety above all else, she was also the subject of a well-known rumor that she and Jang Giil had once been childhood friends.

“The leader of the lay sect that was first to betray Zhongnan is prattling on as though he's above it all. Disgusting and hilarious. You won't mind if I vomit a little, will you? Right here. We've already seen each other at our worst.”

Her voice was mocking.

Jang Giil answered calmly.

“Xi'an has been Zhongnan's city for generations. If we consider public sentiment, we cannot simply oppress them.”

“Public sentiment?”

“How long do you think we can keep detaining everyone who travels in and out of the city? In a famine year, the gates must remain open if we are to procure supplies. That means word of the people's plight will reach the Desolate Fortress sooner or later.”

“Are you afraid of the imperial watchdogs? What's so frightening about men who constantly have to scatter their forces? That's no way to think with two of the Thirteen skies behind you. Is your judgment so poor because you came from a mountain sect? Or perhaps you're testing the waters because you want to spirit the Zhongnan disciples away.”

“... Aren't you the one probing my intentions?”

The quiet sound of liquor pouring followed. This was a perilous drinking session.

The conversation between the people who controlled Xi'an's Murim constricted the servant's throat, then seemed to seep down toward his heart, filling him with suffocating terror.

To ordinary people, they were mountain gods. The boy's hands trembled faintly, even as he sliced a large mooncake with a kitchen knife and portioned the kung pao chicken into small bowls.

“I hear the Martial Alliance in Hanzhong has dispatched an investigation party. Under the pretext of determining how this came about.”

Jang Giil changed the subject. Perhaps because it interested her, a trace of laughter entered Wi Ilhwa's voice. But it was closer to a sneer.

“They've certainly grown bold. They still think Shaanxi is theirs. I heard their people have been leaving in droves since the Zhuge clan head withdrew. They simply can't read the situation.”

“You must have reported this to Shaanxi's Foremost Demon. You're always careful, I trust? The Lingering Spirits' three greatest masters aren't human. You should regard them as inhuman monsters.”

“And haven't you worn your hands and feet to the bone catering to the Ghost-Soul Divine Sword, my dear Giil? Rumor has it the most outstanding woman in the Tyrant Sword Tribe thinks well of you. What a relief that must be.”

Names like those of heavenly deities flowed from the two rulers' mouths. The servant's hands stopped for an instant.

But only an instant. He finished arranging the meal and hurried out with short steps.

The boy could not leave the Northern Radiance Inn. He was being held there outright. It was not entirely a bad thing.

He had heard the conversation of unorthodox founding masters and had not been killed. He even caught their final exchange.

“Once we're done eating, I'm going to see those little rats.”

“I hear Chivalrous Sword Gal Dojin was defeated. According to the reports, he barely managed to put up any resistance. Against a mere brat.”

“Some well-trained fool making a poor imitation of a gallant hero. Is this our first time dealing with troublemakers? There's never any end to the vermin. Still, his martial prowess sounds useful. I might bring him into my service.”

Immense power seethed in the voice of the Remnant-Revering Earth Sect's leader.

The qi fluctuations escaping through the crack in the door swept diagonally across the servant's collar. She was more than capable of acting as an enforcer for the Thirteen skies.

A strange rumor had spread through the streets of Xi'an's Lantian County. It concerned an evil and unorthodox chief not yet twenty years old and his violent subordinate.

Martial artists were sensitive about territory. Those of the unorthodox path were more so.

The already gloomy, rigid local martial world froze solid. The conversation drifting from the Northern Radiance Inn's top floor painted the fate awaiting the outsiders.

The razor-edged atmosphere cut at the servant's legs as he descended the stairs.

Once again, the stairs made no sound.

* * *

The shadow of the inn's outer wall stretched a little to one side. Taller than a person, the wall blocked the cool sunlight. Winter had fully arrived.

Quiet conversation drifted from within.

“Eye techniques really must be a worthwhile discipline. I can tell from your confidence, Fair Eyes. You haven't cut your hair. It's very long.”

“Pardon...?”

“Thank you. I've heard everything I need. Put the brush, ink, and paper in the travel bag. The Remnant-Revering Earth Sect will be coming.”

“Shouldn't we prepare a little more? A few extra swords, at least...”

“Northern Radiance alone will suffice. Your chief's own eye technique is still incomplete. It should be perfected within a month or so, but until then I can't afford to show mercy in my strikes. I need to focus on grasping the principles of eye techniques rather than watching the enemy attack. Just bind the covers for now. I'll fill in the contents as I go.”

“A Comprehensive Guide to Exterminating Evil... Is this a martial art you intend to donate?”

“Yes.”

“I know. I've heard there's a place like Shaolin Temple's Scripture Pavilion. This will be different from the Radiant Genius Formula, won't it? If you're donating it, Chief, then surely it will go into that martial repository...”

“Not there.”

“Then...?”

“To the world.”