Chapter 185 – Swordsman (8)

Jeong Yeon-shin’s thoughts flowed like lightning. Despite his thick, flowing hair, the crown of his head felt cool.

The wide-open Hundred Meetings acupoint permitted countless thoughts.

Instinct struck. Prolonging the duel meant certain defeat. His sensitive upper dantian told him so.

The crowd’s atmosphere surrounding the large sparring stage echoed this. He’d glimpsed it when stepping up.

The expressions of the prestigious family elders, deemed martial world luminaries, were strikingly calm.

Having observed twenty-three duels, they seemed to have finalized their judgment of the Radiant Demon Wing Leader, Jeong Yeon-shin.

‘I know better.’

His opponent was among the finest swordsmen of Mount Hua, a sect said to house sword immortals.

He didn’t aim for two exchanges out of confidence. He conceived it out of disadvantage.

Combat techniques were as numerous as the martial arts scattered across the martial world. The term “diverse and varied” fit well.

While one-exchange victories existed, battles spanning hundreds of exchanges weren’t rare. He’d heard of cases where warriors with both external skills and energy reserves fought through the night.

‘The number of sword techniques the Sword Saint has refined must be immense. Mastered as deeply as his years.’

Said to rival Ma Jin before losing an arm. Not an opponent the new black-rank could engage long-term.

The years spent perfecting Mount Hua’s peerless swordsmanship made the difference.

The higher one’s prowess, the broader their world. The round table where Desolate Fortress leaders sat, and the Wish for Peace Sword Hall had shown him that.

The black-rank realm was vast beyond his experience. Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, Taoist Cheon Ju, exemplified it.

“Hm.”

The middle-aged swordsman’s figure loomed sharply as he raised his eyes.

The young Radiant Demon Wing Leader gripped his raised sword firmly. With one leap of the Wind Body technique, he closed the distance.

Whoosh!

A fierce gust battered his face. The brief moment airborne felt unusually prolonged.

Before his feet touched down, Jeong Yeon-shin slashed downward from midair. A flash of light trailed the blade’s descent.

The nameless First technique, a swift-attack sword style. Honed by cutting down over a hundred Heart Martial Alliance warriors.

Wherever it struck, it bolstered sword energy. It could hit any point first.

A pressure akin to the Emperor’s Sword technique pressed forward. Paired with the downward slash.

Clang!

Sparks flew fiercely. A violent tremor jolted his grip. He nearly lost the sword.

Though his lightning-fast strike flowed freely, Taoist Cheon Ju before him blocked it with a horizontal sword.

In the moment Mount Hua’s Plum Blossom Sword Technique’s offensive lagged, he switched to a defensive technique.

Between the clashing blades, formless colorless blossoms scattered. A highly seasoned swordsmanship display.

It became a contest of sword energy. Landing on the ground, Jeong Yeon-shin tightened his hold on the hilt.

Energy streaming from the heart’s luminous wheel joined the Gushing Spring acupoint in his soles, pushing against the earth.

The sparring stage’s floor crumbled slightly beneath his feet.

Then.

Swish.

Taoist Cheon Ju subtly shifted his stance. A faint sidestep. Dust scraped finely under his white silk shoes.

Hazy dust rose like vapor. An energy wave rippled gently.

Plum Blossom Step of the Hidden Dawn.

The clashing swords twisted. With a small foot movement, he diverted Jeong Yeon-shin’s sword energy. His swirling technique resembled scattering petals, vibrant and elegant.

The Taoist and the boy’s swords traced arcs. Sunlight shimmered over the blades brushing past each other’s collars.

A dance of refined swordmasters.

As if synchronized, it flowed naturally. Simultaneously, an energy wave stirred at Taoist Cheon Ju’s feet.

Rising straight like a plum tree trunk. The step’s energy wave climbed his trouser hem, as if channeling power into his lower body.

In an instant. Before the next technique unfolded, Taoist Cheon Ju’s sword trembled swiftly.

The blade surged at ferocious speed. His horizontal slash rushed forth, fused with the energy from his stance.

Swish—!

The Plum Blossom Butterfly Dance technique unleashed a cutting gust. Jeong Yeon-shin dropped backward as if lying flat.

Iron Bridge. His vision filled with the blade’s surface. It grazed past, blackening the sun above his nose.

Strands of his black hair, yet to fall, were severed instantly and scattered. The formless energy shrouding the blade was as sharp as a divine sword.

‘The side’s open.’

Taoist Cheon Ju’s flank was near. The boy’s eyes flashed as he arched back. He infused the Luminous Wheel Technique into the Intent Shedding acupoint near his spine.

The erector spinae muscles tensed with fierce energy. A supreme master’s motion. He snapped upright.

Channeling an incantation into his left fist. With the wind brushing his ears, the third technique of Eternal Blossom Fist, Blossoming Fist, emerged.

Whoosh!

A formless energy wave burst from his fist. It erupted in clusters, like blossoms blooming in sequence.

Energy struck energy, birthing another wave as it advanced. Close-range impact.

Boom!

It met Taoist Cheon Ju’s left hand. An open palm crumpled, settling like a floral pattern.

A shockwave lifted his sleeve, vibrations rattling to the bone. Mount Hua’s Falling Petal Palm Technique. It struck down each wave of Blossoming Fist’s energy.

The unity of essence, energy, and spirit enabled a half-beat faster strike than the boy’s. The fist’s afterimages collapsed entirely.

His extended wrist ached. This Falling Petal Palm Technique, unlike the one he’d seen from Yu Hyeon in white robes, was of a different caliber.

Orthodox martial arts, matured with a supreme master’s years, were this resolute.

“That fist technique, I remember it. It resembles our sect’s lineage.”

Taoist Cheon Ju spoke, adding force to his palm technique.

Boom!

The final impact roared. The boy’s technique slid back with the colliding fist.

His black hair and robes flared from the recoil.

A gap opened between the supreme masters. Faint dust from their feet caressed the silence.

Then the crowd reacted. Those filling the watchtowers and stands.

“…The energy wave reaches here, slicing my face. I couldn’t even see it.”

“Are they truly human?”

“Nine Sects and Desolate Fortress supreme masters. They’ve shed their mortal shells…!”

The onlookers, witnessing a peak-realm clash, couldn’t hide their awe.

A fight rare even across a lifetime of wandering the Central Plains. Yet the young Radiant Demon Wing Leader’s gaze sank coldly.

Four exchanges now.

For the first time.

The boy failed at a short-term decisive battle. Mount Hua’s Sword Saint was a fully realized warrior.

The Nine Sects’ wall, faced head-on, stood as tall as their chivalry. They called it martial virtue, blending martial arts and the Way.

A depth and texture distinct from prestigious families’ martial arts.

Jeong Yeon-shin had felt it the moment he stepped onto the stage. Seeing Taoist Cheon Ju’s sword stance, sensing the dense, meticulous energy wave.

His overall martial prowess couldn’t compare to a top Nine Sects swordmaster. Not yet.

No surprise. The leader of the Plum Blossom Swordsmen held such rank. Acknowledged across centuries.

As Mount Hua’s face, he stood as a stern swordmaster before countless martial artists. In today’s martial world, a rival to Ma Jin, the Harbinger of Death.

A peerless swordmaster of Mount Hua.

A vast age gap. Unlike the boy, he’d achieved unity of essence, energy, and spirit.

Harmonizing body, internal energy, and upper dantian spirituality into one. A realm where energy moved with thought.

A stage most Desolate Fortress black-ranks had reached. Unlike Jeong Yeon-shin, whose upper dantian power was unusually vast.

The boy in black robes, clad solely by the Luminous Wheel Technique, was the exception.

Against a Sword Saint of Great Mount Hua, a divide in martial prowess was natural.

The Alliance leadership clearly dreaded the Nine Sects. Yet they seemed to fully acknowledge their strength.

Placing them late to block the Radiant Demon Wing Leader in the Opening Tournament showed it.

Even petty Hanzhong gamblers knew. The power of centuries-old orthodox lineages was fearsomely steadfast.

Oddly, Jeong Yeon-shin felt puzzled. He should’ve been more overwhelmed.

If Taoist Cheon Ju wielded prowess as it appeared, he’d be an opponent too great to handle yet.

But the Falling Petal Palm Technique hadn’t pierced the Luminous Wheel’s Eternal Blossom Fist. Despite no hint of holding back, it felt faintly equal.

‘He’s been bearing an internal injury from the start.’

The boy thought. No other explanation surfaced. He’d grasped a fact no one else noticed.

A question arose naturally. When and against whom had he sustained it?

Had he sensed that realization? Taoist Cheon Ju spoke.

“We’re equals. Conditions align. Only the contest of skills remains.”

“…”

Words only the Radiant Demon Wing Leader, having crossed swords as a supreme master, could grasp.

In the black-rank realm.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s years were shallow, and Taoist Cheon Ju bore an internal injury.

Thus, equals. Taoist Cheon Ju said.

His firm grip on the sword suggested he truly believed it. Such was the upright spirit of the Nine Great Sects.

The crowd encircling the stage watched the supreme masters’ standoff in hushed silence.

Those with broad insight and narrow, warriors who’d refined martial arts to mastery and commoners ignorant of even half a technique.

A sight rare to witness again in a lifetime. Only the prestigious family elders gleamed with deep-hued eyes.

***

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Translated by Nine Heavens!

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***  

The Zhuge Family Head, watching the stage with flashing energy gleam, spoke.

“The Radiant Demon Wing Leader’s internal energy was stronger than expected. I didn’t think it’d match Taoist Cheon Ju’s. A swordmaster of exceptional energy without mastering the sect leader’s Violet Mist Divine Technique.”

“It’s fine. Mount Hua’s Sword Saint’s swordsmanship finesse is impeccable. The Radiant Demon Wing Leader won’t hold out long.”

The Murong Family Head replied, eyes agleam with energy, neither looking at the other.

The Murong Family leader, activating an ocular technique alongside the Zhuge Family Head, continued.

“The Radiant Demon Wing Leader’s first sword technique was refined enough to stun this family head. It swiftly bridged the sword’s gap. A technique beyond my knowledge. But switching to a palm technique for the second technique without linking the flow…”

“Means he lacks many such sword techniques. That boy’s swordsmanship is thin. It can’t match the depth of prestigious techniques. Supreme sword techniques that adapt to any variable and dominate close combat accrue with time. If that lad clashes head-on without avoiding it, he’ll fall within five exchanges. If he dodges, he’ll lose honor.”

The Murong Family Head’s thick voice carried conviction. The Zhuge Family Head nodded.

“It’s time he crumbled. The Yan Family’s First Fist won’t get a turn. At that age, showing such prowess to the world, Desolate Fortress has achieved its aim. It’s already the Alliance’s loss.”

“So long as the Great Rejuvenation Pill doesn’t fall to the imperial watchdogs?”

“Qing-ya, you may stop.”

The Zhuge Family Head said. Zhuge Qing-ya, seated behind, caught her breath.

Her fingers, nervously smoothing her long black hair, froze too.

The tips of her neatly combed locks twitched.

“The disappointment lingers. To discover nothing with such ocular technique mastery. Had the duel not unfolded this way, I’d have reprimanded her harshly. Foolish girl.”

“…I apologize.”

The girl replied softly.

Lady Ye, seated aside, spared them no glance. Her crimson eyes, veiled by a white blindfold, fixed solely on the stage.

She brushed her cheek with pale fingers, sending a voice transmission to the Ye Family Head beside her.

—How much to sabotage that?

—It’s not a matter of money, I reckon.

—My Grandmaster was crafting a new sword technique. This stale affair’s nothing. I’m too thrilled—what’s the use of this? Have you bribed Yan’s rabble?

—We’re probing discreetly. But they’re unresponsive—beyond a budget limit, perhaps. It’s best avoided. Diverting more funds risks ties between our sect and the Ye Family…

—Fine. Prepare thick cloth. I’ll be by my Grandmaster’s side now.

Amid the crowd’s varied chatter, Jeong Yeon-shin and Taoist Cheon Ju’s exchange continued.

Swords lowered, measuring distance with words. The two traced a wide circle with calm steps.

“You said Ma Jin should be fine. Crossing swords, I see it. There’s resentment in you. Buried deep in your grip. Yet it’s regrettable I can’t yield.”

“…”

“No Nine Sect could withdraw from the Alliance. Unrestrained actions under the righteous martial world’s name mustn’t happen. Thus, the sect leader sent me down.”

To check the prestigious families.

Taoist Cheon Ju bore his own righteousness.

If the Martial Alliance Conference’s formation was inevitable, he aimed to guide its power justly.

Victory for the Nine Sects before all eyes was the condition.

“This one will honor you and not underestimate.”

A clear voice rang out. His middle age belied by its purity. A sign of immensely refined internal energy.

Swish.

Taoist Cheon Ju reversed his longsword in hand. His steps halted.

From the lengthy blade, a baptism of formless energy waves bloomed like buds. A momentum as if honed internal energy unleashed endlessly.

The prelude to his swordsmanship was beautiful. Refined enough to feel like sorcery.

“Plum Fragrance Drifting Blossoms!”

A cry laced with awe. From the Alliance leadership’s side. Someone had blurted the technique’s name unthinkingly.

A well-known sword technique. Jeong Yeon-shin recalled hearing it. A single slash piercing all subtleties of the Plum Blossom Sword Technique.

After frequent sword discourse with nearby Zhongnan, each sect gained peerless techniques, it was said.

The boy silently faced Taoist Cheon Ju in his starting stance. Mount Hua’s Sword Saint’s internal energy flow was staggeringly swift.

The chance to disrupt the casting slipped by in an instant. The technique completed the moment momentum rose.

“Bring it on. A righteous martial duel.”

Taoist Cheon Ju said quietly.

The world wasn’t simple. The youngest black-rank master felt it.

Each bore distinct stances. A clash of righteous causes.

Unlike Shaolin and Wudang, Mount Hua often engaged the secular world. Not for greed, but to aid the common folk’s stability.

Despite ranking among the strongest Nine Sects, they did so. Worthy of respect. None could object.

Yet that applied equally to the boy seeking to protect his grandfather’s body.

The heart of a grandson ignorant of familial bonds was as pure as theirs.

‘I want to live happily.’

Facing the Sword Saint, Jeong Yeon-shin sensed the martial world. His upper dantian communed with nature.

A thread of impartial providence struck his crown, making him revisit the turbulent martial world anew.

That sky.

It stole his lifespan, then tossed talent as charity.

When he sought to reclaim it, it took his uncle’s arm. It tried to claim his grandfather’s life too. Such was the martial world.

Even a Nine Sect figure wielding a sword for chivalry stood in his way. The martial world’s interests intertwined.

The tempestuous boy resented his uneven life. At times, the world he clashed with to survive felt overwhelming.

Thus, he named his core technique “Luminous Wheel that Transcends Law.” To live a bit easier, a bit longer.

Hum.

The resolve now stirring in both hands was no different. A single honed intent.

Pure determination became an incantation, resonating through his body’s fine meridians.

Even if the inescapable laws of all creation bound this head, I’d surpass them someday.

He muttered inwardly. To the heavens, with the arrogance of one who’d never felt limits in crafting martial arts.

—Don’t block me.

He whispered within. Recalling his grandfather, wreathed in azure flames.

That murmur.

It sparked a radiance in his mind. A bud of light-born will.

As the Sword Saint intuited Jeong Yeon-shin’s heart, the boy felt life’s harsh waves in the Sword Saint’s Plum Blossom Sword.

Beyond it glimmered the azure flames his grandfather had burned his life to wield.

Swish.

He gripped the Northern Light Sword with both hands, raising it before him. A long exhale condensed white along the blade, up and down.

A faint halo of the Luminous Wheel Technique seeped from his breath.

The boy moved his lips. May my steps never halt in this martial world.

A moment when the young grandmaster pinned his hopes on a single sword.

Hum!

A flower of light bloomed in his mind. A radiant trajectory formed in his upper dantian.

Utmost intent naturally turned divine. Called spirituality.

Something that forged brittle iron into an unbreakable divine sword flowed from his mind, through his arm meridians, to the Labor Palace acupoints in both palms.

Auspicious spirituality overlaid his energy flow.

“Hm…!”

Taoist Cheon Ju, awaiting the boy, let out a low sound. The energy wave alone was a dazzling sword momentum.

The wave striking his sensitivity heralded the birth of an unprecedented sword technique.

A mystery of the martial world. The prerogative of a grandmaster who’d split the heavens.

The moment a starting stance to wield a divine technique emerged. Sensing the peak momentum, Taoist Cheon Ju struck.

A horizontal slash with the Plum Fragrance Step’s elusive motion.

A silent shockwave of energy burst from the Gushing Spring acupoint in his soles, Mount Hua’s white robes scattering forward like a faint scent.

Boom!

Taoist Cheon Ju’s blade trajectory tore the wind apart. A translucent energy wave rose like clouds.

Blossoming buds of energy on the blade unfurled colorless. Mount Hua’s Plum Fragrance Drifting Blossoms.

The essence of Plum Blossom Sword Technique unfolded with dozens of chilling sword lights. A slash firmly in a master’s realm raced toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

Crash—!

The force’s aftermath swallowed his upper body instantly. Gasps erupted from the stands.

Lady Ye shook off the Ye Family Head’s hand and rose toward the stage.

Then, the boy transferred the sword technique in his mind to both hands. Dual-wielding.

The Northern Light Sword, now vivid blue, moved.

An illusion of layered black sleeves arose. Transparent energy swirled around the arms extending with the sword.

The nameless sword technique’s Third technique. A single radiant thread etched into Plum Fragrance Drifting Blossoms. It sliced through entirely.

Clang-clang-clang—!

The vibration in his hands was colossal. His grip nearly tore. The deafening sword cry was immense.

Unfazed, the boy thrust his sword forward. Cleanly, yet fiercely.

Deflecting sword energy, shattering energy buds, crushing the advancing sword techniques.

The Northern Light Sword’s trajectory streaked as a single line. A fleeting moment. Finally, the Sword Saint’s sigh touched the blade tip.

A dull sensation traveled up the blade. He instantly released the force in his grip.

The sword technique’s energy wave, wrapping both arms, scattered like leaves upward.

Then.

The plum blossom clouds of Plum Fragrance Drifting Blossoms settled slowly.

“Hup!”

Beyond the stage. Someone let out a stifled gasp.

The fight ceased.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s front was slashed wide, down to his waist. His black robes and inner tunic were nearly stripped off.

Two sword marks etched his firm chest.

Thinly cut, they’d heal soon, but blood traced his defined abs vividly.

The black trouser hem darkened further.

Taoist Cheon Ju’s pristine robes held firm, sword lowered. Only the white collar was torn, frayed.

Yet the boy’s sword hovered above his neck. Subdued by a master’s strike. A sign of refined technique.

After silently gazing at the boy, Taoist Cheon Ju spoke. Eyes deep as an abyss.

“Your refined gesture bore an unfamiliar air. I know you forged that technique here. One slash let me grasp Ma Jin’s resolve.”

“…”

“What’s the technique’s name? If it lacks one yet…”

“Azure Flame Slash.”

The young Radiant Demon Wing Leader sheathed his sword and spoke.

“There’s nothing else.”

“…”

Silence filled the arena as the wind blew. The boy leader closed his eyes, bare torso exposed.

His hair brushed his shoulders, fluttering freely.