Chapter 236 - Treasured Sword (9)

Inside a cozy room at the Fruit Cloud Inn.

“The Ghost-Soul Divine Sword, Yeo Sohyang. She is the Tyrant Sword Tribe’s Elder Council Leader. She oversees the Tribe’s subordinate unorthodox sects that have taken control of Xi’an. According to our joint investigation with the Beggars’ Sect, she also... spearheaded the destruction of the Jeong Clan Estate in Xinye County,” Zhuge Hyeon said.

He sat across a round tea table from Jung Yeonshin. Only two cups stood upon it. Such were the times: even without a grain of rice, people still brewed tea. Its delicate fragrance drifted through the room.

“My family’s destruction?”

The warmth of reunion vanished from the Radiant Demon Squad captain’s face.

“I understand the Blood Flame Cult’s Third Apostle gave that order.”

Jung Yeonshin spoke quietly, recalling what had happened at the Blood Flame Cult’s headquarters.

[“They enjoyed fertile land far above their station.”]

Those had been the Third Apostle’s words when he confronted the Seventh Apostle. He had confessed it himself: he had ordered the Jeong Clan Estate’s annihilation.

Then the Desolate Fortress Master’s sword had taken his head.

Only one enemy remained. With the same resolve he had held when creating the Movement Art, he had been counting off those responsible for his family’s destruction, seeking to honor the bonds of blood. No one but the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord had come to mind.

He could only listen closely to Zhuge Hyeon.

“The Ghost-Soul Divine Sword, who oversees Xi’an’s unorthodox sects... is an aged swordswoman of the noble race. She was the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord’s nursemaid.”

He continued, stealing glances at Jung Yeonshin’s limbs as though marveling at how much longer they had grown in the meantime.

“Once, she possessed martial prowess enough to contend with the Lords of the Thirteen Skies, but she is said to have declined from practicing overly domineering martial arts. Even so, she remains formidable. Aside from the leaders of great factions, only Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, Daoist Cheonju, could stand against Yeo Sohyang...”

“I’d like you to tell me about the Jeong Clan Estate.”

“She is an eccentric who enjoys surveying the land through sword-riding flight. They say she examined the earth qi in Xinye County and reported it to the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord. She constantly boasts of the peerless master she raised. Apparently, she revealed this while bragging about the countless blows the Tribe Lord had dealt the Desolate Fortress...”

“The Ghost-Soul Divine Sword, Yeo Sohyang,” Jung Yeonshin murmured.

The Tyrant Sword Tribe Elder Council Leader. The person in overall command of the unorthodox Murim that had supplanted the Zhongnan Sect.

His upper dantian’s energy detection found no falsehood in Zhuge Hyeon. This was a man whose mastery of the fan was more impressive than any peerless art. Nor did he particularly want to doubt him. Zhuge Hyeon was a chivalrous man whose nature was the very opposite of Jung Yeonshin’s own brother’s.

“Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”

Jung Yeonshin closed his eyes once, then opened them, setting aside the thoughts stirred by this unexpected revelation. He would meet her anyway as he drove Xi’an’s unorthodox sects out.

“We agreed to settle matters at Great Moon Gorge at noon. The Remnant-Revering Earth Sect’s leader sent the letter.”

“The Ghost-Soul Divine Sword will not descend immediately.”

“Why?”

“She considers everything beneath her except the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord. She would never involve herself in the subordinate sects’ brawls from the outset, however great the forces involved.”

“True. The unorthodox sects here are more capable than I expected. They’re closer to established, mid-sized sects than underworld thugs.”

“I came after receiving intelligence that they were committing every kind of atrocity. I was told they treat commoners’ lives like sweets in their pockets. To ascertain the actual situation, I had no choice but to come myself.”

Jung Yeonshin had seen the same. He had witnessed countless corpses before passing through the city gates. They belonged to people plundered amid the famine, and transparent remnants of waves of force from evil-path martial arts still rippled over them, like smoke rising from incense.

“Their numbers are overwhelming. Every one of them has properly learned the martial arts of the evil and unorthodox paths. Withdrawal is worth considering. The entire city seems hostile to you, Captain Jung...” Zhuge Hyeon said cautiously.

The Alliance had investigated them extensively. Unorthodox Murim differed from a federation of orthodox sects. They could neither run legitimate businesses nor receive generous donations in the form of offerings. They merely seized a share of other businesses or openly collected protection money.

Naturally, they were acutely sensitive about their territory.

Even while fighting among themselves, they united the instant an outsider encroached. They were not great factions; they combined the temperament of mid-sized sects with that of back-alley underworld gangs. They acted with such perfect coordination that orthodox gossips called it bizarre. That unity had swiftly torn apart the order established by Zhongnan, allowing them to divide the spoils among themselves in no time.

They were like brothers who wounded one another. Their response to a hostile supreme master’s appearance was bound to be lightning-fast.

They restricted access to food, as the Supreme Flame Dragon had experienced, and the sect leaders vanished all at once. They feared being picked off individually. Apparently, they intended to remain hidden until the eve of the decisive battle.

Their eye for recognizing the strong was exceptional.

“The unorthodox martial world follows the law of the strong devouring the weak to the letter. The leaders of powerful unorthodox sects are constantly on guard against the appearance of supreme masters. To protect their livelihoods, they must intercept even a supreme master—by whatever means necessary,” Zhuge Hyeon continued gently.

“There are ways to destroy them gradually from within. Insisting on sweeping them away in a single all-out battle... may take less time, but it entails immense danger. That is why I advise you to withdraw for now, Captain Jung. We live in a world where even a peerless master would struggle against ten thousand soldiers trained in martial arts...”

At some point, he had taken a fan from inside his robes and was now fingering it as he spoke. It seemed to be a habit.

The steam above their cups had dissipated. Only the invisible fragrance of tea filled the room. Silence lingered in the quiet chamber.

Jung Yeonshin did not answer.

* * *

Great Moon Gorge lay beside the vast Guanzhong Plain.

Martial artists with sinister qi fluctuations poured in from every street—a display worthy of the hidden strength of the evil and unorthodox paths. They were unlike hoodlums playing martial artist with a few paltry skills. The murderous intent shrouding their entire bodies made that plain.

Hundreds headed into the mountains outside the city, toward the place that had, for some reason, been named Great Moon Gorge.

“I don’t see why we have to go this far.”

“Exactly. We were at each other’s throats just seven days and nights ago.”

“They say that bastard who refuses to leave Xi’an is a supreme master. If we fought in the city, everything would get smashed to pieces. Isn’t all of that our property?”

“A supreme master... Is he really?”

“Even our house head acknowledges the Demon-Scattering Sword, Sect Leader Wi’s eye technique. If she’s lying, the Remnant-Revering Earth Sect will be wiped out. Not by us, but by the venerable masters of the Lingering Spirits.”

People of every appearance climbed the mountain. From those with hair reaching their feet to the bald, many carried unconventional weapons: sabers with bizarrely curved blades, greatswords with circular holes through their centers, gauntlets fitted with blades along the backs of the hands, chain sickles, and flexible swords whose blades bent and swayed.

They climbed amid a clamor of conversation.

No one was tense. Anyone would have felt the same before the qi fluctuations billowing together like clouds. Hundreds had properly learned evil-path martial arts. Some snickered as though they were out for amusement.

“With this much strength, we could set our sights on some other fertile land.”

“How about Xiangyang?”

“Are you mad? You want to attack the Desolate Fortress?”

“I hear the soil there is incredibly rich. With a force this size, aren’t we invincible?”

There was a reason they had not attacked the inn housing the “Chief” and his party. The mountains of Great Moon Gorge, bordering a broad wilderness, were better suited to displaying their power than an official road that could hold only so many people.

They intended to make an example of this supposedly mighty supreme master and cement the unorthodox order in Xi’an once and for all. Their patience had carried them to the day of battle.

An even greater number of commoners, merchants, and wandering warriors followed at a distance.

“So this is practically a public execution?”

“I hear they’ve all stayed shut indoors. That Chief fellow and the sect leaders alike.”

“The one who hides out of fear is the loser, wouldn’t you say? My money’s on the sect leaders. How could a lone outsider withstand Xi’an’s unorthodox factions defending their turf?”

“Even so, to think it would be on the scale of a war between sects...”

“It happens often enough.”

Xi’an’s people had two sides to their nature. They bowed when they had to, yet showed boundless energy when satisfying their curiosity. This was a great city where Zhongnan and Mount Hua had long fought the evil and unorthodox paths. Its bold natives were immense in number.

There were more than enough to pack the vast, ordinarily deserted gorge.

Then the leaders of Xi’an’s unorthodox sects appeared.

Seven men and women stepped onto the plain below the gorge, leaving their disciples or subordinates behind. Each radiated an extraordinary presence. The magnificent mountain scenery seemed to hold its breath.

The Remnant-Revering Earth Sect, Whiteburn Gate, Severance Pavilion, Great Spirit Awe-Shaking Sect, Sword Demon Sect, Heaven-Ending Saber Sect, and Radiant Moon House.

The heads of all the unorthodox factions had graced the gathering.

They could well call themselves undefeated. In most regions, they would have every right to.

“I wonder how formidable he is, for the renowned Sect Leader Wi to arrange such an elaborate affair.”

The speaker was a man with thick eyebrows and large, piercing eyes. A long scar crossed his cheek. An old-fashioned, ink-black conical hat covered much of his white hair. The force radiating over his snow-white robe sent smoke rising from the dirt below. It was at once mysterious and forbidding.

Baek Muryang, head of Radiant Moon House. Alongside Wi Ilhwa and Jang Giil, he numbered among the three greatest masters of Xi’an’s unorthodox sects.

“Might a Black-ranked master of the Desolate Fortress have come alone? If Sect Leader Wi is making such a fuss, I mean. If that truly is the case, I am quite prepared to turn tail without looking back.”

An easy smile played at the corners of his white beard as he spoke.

Standing in the center, Wi Ilhwa snorted. She knew the head of Radiant Moon House well. He was more insidious than anyone present. She could hardly take it as mere jest. She had to answer with a provocation.

“I certainly won’t stop you. What can I do if you wish to make yourself the laughingstock of the martial world?”

“As cold as ever, Sect Leader Wi.”

Baek Muryang surveyed his surroundings and smiled. The qi fluctuations of the evil and unorthodox paths filling the plain below the gorge were tremendous. They might even warrant some small comparison to the martial army of the Martial Alliance, one of the Thirteen Skies.

‘What a spectacle.’

This was why the faction heads had gone along with Wi Ilhwa’s proposal.

People from Xi’an and its surroundings watched, packing the gorge. Though they looked down from above, their expressions betrayed reverence for their superiors.

With that, the sect leaders had achieved their purpose. It was already over.

This was an immense martial army. No one could see it up close without being overwhelmed. Countless commoners from Shaanxi Province, a territory comparable to a sizable nation, had gathered here. With a little exaggeration, the whole world was watching.

No greater show of force could be made. The same applied to that talk of a Desolate Fortress Black-rank. It was meaningless.

Hundreds of irregular strands of qi fluctuations tangled together, stretched outward, and gouged the ground beneath their feet. The plain seemed filled by a vast army. It was a truly overwhelming sight—a power no one present had ever encountered.

Only the Tyrant Sword Tribe and the Lingering Spirits, loftily beyond the heavens, could be considered their match. They had secured absolute power to squeeze the commoners dry during the famine.

Those who had dreamed of resistance would take up plows instead of swords. The populace would go about their livelihoods without complaint and fatten Xi’an’s unorthodox factions. With poor harvests every time, surely they ought to work harder.

The orthodox had been driven out. The unorthodox now held sway.

‘Our martial world is complete.’

Baek Muryang’s lips curved into a smile. They remained that way even as someone abruptly landed before them.

TAP.

Black fabric fluttered behind him. Shoulder-length black hair rippled once along with his cloak. A boy had set his black leather shoes upon the ground. Given the distance he had leaped, the landing was silent.

“... Truly formidable movement skills. He was a mere speck in the distance.”

Baek Muryang muttered, the furrow between his brows deepening.

The newcomer did not answer. Only his pitch-black eyes shone strangely as he raised his sharply defined chin. He merely surveyed the hundreds of unorthodox martial artists facing him on the plain.

His gaze alone exerted a peculiar pressure. Silence spread in its wake.

Seeing his appearance for the first time, Wi Ilhwa bit her lip lightly.

“He looked like this—a mere brat?”

“Surely you are not as young as you appear. I shall treat you as a venerable master of the martial world.”

Baek Muryang spoke with a deliberate smile.

“I can discern your skill without crossing blades. You are capable of walking Murim alone. In most regions, that would hold true wherever you went. However severe the famine, you could be assured of survival.”

“...”

“But look over here. For a master without forces of his own, battle is... a very complicated affair, with much to worry about. It is on a different level from a duel. You will find none of the martial world’s romance here. No one will fault you for withdrawing now.”

It was then that the young-faced swordsman parted his lips.

“You are the head of Radiant Moon House, correct?”

“I am.”

“Those gathered here... are all unorthodox martial artists from Xi’an’s seven great factions, then.”

“Exactly right. There are no riffraff here. I assure you of that.”

“Plunder, injury, and murder are your way of life. Intelligence states that you have repeatedly enslaved commoners and employed every means available to hone your martial arts in actual combat.”

“What petty nonsense. So you have no intention of withdrawing?”

Dust surged violently at Baek Muryang’s feet. A wave of force whirled as though summoning a whirlwind—the prelude to the Radiant Moon Overlord Art passed down through his house. He intended to block the first strike, then sweep the boy away with their martial army.

WHOOOOSH!

Stones clattered against one another on the ground amid the fierce wind. To one side, Wi Ilhwa’s satin hems billowed splendidly. Beneath her curved smile, qi fluctuations swept through the air like lengths of silk, save that they were utterly transparent.

WHOOOSH!

The other faction heads’ force was no less impressive. Light scattered by their blades flashed again and again. The noise was tremendous. Any voice would now be swallowed by the reverberations of their waves of force.

Amid it all—

“So you admit it.”

Jung Yeonshin dipped his head. His bearing was more imperious than anyone else’s there. So was the movement of his lips that followed. Only the unorthodox faction heads before him saw it.

“By my authority as captain, I command you.”

“...?”

“Radiant Demon Squad of the Desolate Fortress, punish this vermin.”

The instant he uttered those words, interwoven with sound transmission, an arrow rose from the ridge behind him.

FWEEEEEE—!

It sounded like the long cry of an enormous bird. It was the sound of a whistling arrow—an arrow built like a flute. The internal energy it carried was immense.

This was the work of the Moon-Shooting Bow Fiend, Wi Yeryeong. Bearing a stormlike resonance, the arrow swallowed the sect leaders’ waves of force as it passed. It carried the full, mighty internal power of a Blue-ranked noble-race warrior of the Desolate Fortress, streaking overhead like a ray of light.

BOOM!

It pierced three unorthodox martial artists and buried itself in the ground. Three thunderous reports of flesh being punched through rang out as one. The archery was closer to artillery fire.

Not even a scream escaped. Those packed together recoiled in horror, scattering in every direction.

“What just...!”

“His reinforcements!”

As Wi Ilhwa and Baek Muryang’s eyes widened, a monstrous presence rose above the gorge’s flank, accompanied by snow-white shimmers. If one had to compare it to something, it was not a cloud but the sun.

On a hill they had ignored—for martial artists could scale cliffs as though walking level ground—it burgeoned with overwhelming power, as if dawn were rising anew.

Twenty-eight swords of light appeared. Sunlight shimmered in the qi given tangible form around their entire bodies. The people looked like swords. Even those who held no blade did. They themselves were generating sunlight.

Compared to the gathering on the plain below, they were a mere handful.

Their presence was another matter.

A few noble-race martial artists were scattered among the group. Though their martial robes differed in color, they radiated a terrifying unity. They shared the same essential nature.

RUMBLE!

The instant they appeared, they all kicked off the ground and descended. Nearly thirty men and women struck the peaks with their feet and swooped down like kites. Each time they stepped on a rock, the white rays surrounding their weapons and bodies intensified. At a glance, it was an auspicious sight.

One of the Divine Sword Squad’s seventeen squads was called the Desolate Fortress’s wing that annihilated the demons of the world.

“H-huh...?”

“What is that? What is it?!”

Xi’an’s unorthodox martial army began to falter. They were too fast. They drew close in an instant. The unknown masters’ lightness-skill charge became a massive sphere of light. In a few blinks, they accelerated still further, until their very movements flickered like lightning.

The Radiant Demon Squad spread its feathers, unleashing the Radiant Genius Formula’s waves of force in every direction.

ROOOOAR—!

It happened in an instant. The released martial force shook the earth and tore through the atmosphere. A wave of brilliant white radiance crashed into the unorthodox martial artists. A monstrous shock wave erupted in all directions.