Chapter 432 – Grandmaster (6)

Beneath a deep blue sky lay a dimly lit expanse of earth. The land, stretching out vast as a wilderness in all directions, was scorched black.

Sparse, dark flames wavered across its surface. The summer heat, descending transparently, turned to a blackened shimmer upon reaching the ground.

It was less a ruin and more akin to a depiction of hell. One could call it a dead land.

In the midst of this, a peculiar voice resonated lowly. It carried the cadence of a departed soul clumsily reciting poetry.

‘When ten people gather, one acts as a monarch.

The dusty winds of the wilderness are the distant cries of inner demons.

On this land, where a ten-day fence is like a sandcastle awaiting the tide,

Is the vast wave of time a heavenly mandate to accept, or a trial to defy?’

Sparks of black flame leapt violently over the dead land before vanishing.

“How does it sound to hear it in person?”

A figure wearing a silver-white mask covering down to the tip of his nose tilted his lips into a crooked smile.

Clad in a white fur cloak adorned with intricate embroidery akin to an imperial dragon robe, he exuded an air of nobility. Yet, contrary to his regal appearance, he held an old man by the neck, lifting him aloft.

“This is the preface to my Heavenly Demon Divine Art, which you so desperately desired. Isn’t the oral formula quite poetic?”

“I can’t, believe it. It’s not… authentic.”

The old man rasped out a phlegm-filled voice. Despite his throat being gripped, his internal energy breathing remained unbroken.

Draped over his back, a long, black robe bore the characters “Pure Demon” inscribed in a bold, vigorous script.

“Foolish old man. Where is authenticity in the Demonic Path?”

The masked figure scoffed.

“The demonic arts of the Ming Cult are meant to be torn apart and reshaped to suit the inheritor. Halfwits who blindly follow the teachings of their predecessors can never become the Heavenly Demon. That’s why you’re a mere branch, old man.”

“…”

“Still, I’m somewhat impressed. Absorbing the demonic essence of the dead? The grave you desecrated belonged to the previous leader of the Pure Demon Alliance, didn’t it? Your own disciple.”

“That’s… the Demonic Path.”

The old man spoke, his sclera darkening to pitch black.

Swish.

The masked figure’s small head tilted sideways.

It was unclear whether the gesture indicated agreement with the old man’s words or dismissed them as trivial. Mockery was ingrained in their demeanor.

The masked figure parted his lips.

“You’ve racked your brains in your own way, and you’ve grown strong enough to casually speak of being the best under heaven…”

Suddenly, thin veins bulged on the masked figure’s porcelain-like hand. He tightened his grip.

A ragged breath burst from the old man’s mouth as he dangled in the air, and the masked figure’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Didn’t expect it to come to this, did you?”

Heh, heh heh…

The old man let out a fractured laugh.

“Indeed, it is so. A being who suppressed himself with sorcery and martial arts… barely clinging to life, to think you’d undo his own seal to kill me… Who could have, imagined it?”

“It was but a fleeting moment. I’ve locked it away again.”

The old man’s laughter deepened.

“You are nothing more than a giant mayfly.”

“Your metaphors lack refinement. You’re hopeless at poetry, old man.”

The masked figure replied indifferently, suddenly gazing into the distance.

Unlike the scorched earth below, the sky was clear. Pale, wispy clouds trailed long tails, drifting leisurely across the expanse.

“It must have started by now, right?”

“What are you, talking about?”

“I’m curious about the outcome of the Mount Hua Agreement. Depending on the results Lightning Genius produces, my choices will change. The state of the martial world lately has been anything but ordinary.”

“I’ve no interest in your cryptic nonsense.”

The old man continued in a mocking tone.

“From what I hear, that child is a monstrous anomaly like you. If so… aren’t those destined to die soon being hailed as the future of the martial world, the rising waves of the Yangtze River? What a laughable affair. How would the world react if they knew the truth?”

Was this a final burst of clarity before death? Despite the grip still choking his throat, the old man in black robes gradually found his breath easing.

With each syllable he uttered, the sinister aura of a Demonic Path adept began to seep through.

“Even if the heavens above deny your existence, do you truly believe you can become the Heavenly Demon? Especially now, when you’re closer to a walking corpse.”

“Isn’t the corpse on your side?”

“Looking at you, I can clearly foresee what madness that child of Desolate Fortress will unleash in the future. It’s a shame I won’t be there to witness it. The higher one climbs, the more they cling to their life.”

“A mere breakfast snack of an old man prattles on too long. Of course, there’s one thing you got right. Just one.”

At some point, dark streams of energy began to coil up the masked figure’s smooth hand like tendrils.

Conversely, the old man’s body withered as if turning to ash. His skin cracked and split, and the light in his eyes faded into nothingness.

“Indeed.”

The Ming Cult Leader, Yelu Zhen, whispered into the old man’s ear. By now, their fingers, wrapped in pitch-black energy like silk, tightened further.

“I am the Lightning Genius after death.”

Crack-

The old man’s neck twisted with the sound of breaking bones.

***

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Translated by Nine Heavens!

https://discord.gg/XC9DTsTQ9Z

***

Footsteps echoed solemnly.

A handsome young man with sharp, defined features walked along the path, carrying only a single sword at his side.

The hem of his black robe, reaching down to his feet like ebony, swayed gently in rhythm with his upright stride.

A Black Rank expert of Desolate Fortress, White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin.

They were within the expansive grounds of a grand manor.

Those passing by paused momentarily.

Middle-aged men and women, some old enough to have grown children, and even a few others, disregarded decorum to turn and look back at him.

A handful offered kind words before Namgung Hwa-shin fully passed by.

“Young Master Namgung, all is well with you today, I presume?”

“Yes, Miss Hu.”

“You remember my name? It so happens my sect is soon to spar with the Diancang Sect. Might I ask for your blessings, Young Master?”

“I wish you success.”

His bearing exuded the dignity befitting someone from a prestigious family.

Since being appointed as a temporary Obeying Heaven Wing Leader upon attaining Black Rank, he was even treated as the legitimate heir of the Namgung Family by some in the martial world.

Fourteen days had passed since the sparring between Desolate Fortress and the Peng Family.

Dozens of sparring bouts had taken place in that time. That was how many sects had participated.

During this period, Desolate Fortress engaged in two additional sparring matches.

Their opponents were the South Sea Ocean Blade Sect and the Shandong Yue Family. White, Blue, and Black Ranks fought a total of eight matches across two bouts, with Desolate Fortress securing seven victories.

Only White Rank warrior Ma Woong suffered a loss to Yue Ye-lin of the Yue Family.

The single exchange between the Yue Family Head and the newly appointed Purple Rank was the highlight of that day’s sparring.

Lotus Nezha, Lightning Genius, struck twice across the two bouts and never once faced defeat.

As the Mount Hua Agreement progressed, he came to be perceived as an insurmountable wall among his peers.

Green Jade Sword Manor, where hundreds of renowned martial figures gathered. In some corners, a new epithet for him was being whispered.

Meanwhile, Harbinger of Death Ma Jin successively defeated the foremost fist expert of the Ocean Blade Sect and Yue Yin-xuan, known as the next greatest spear of the Yue Family, wielder of the Lion Fowl Spear.

Only after facing the Lion Fowl Spear did he draw the blade strapped to his back, and immediately after the bout, he secluded himself in his quarters to meditate and recover his energy.

-“Youngster, you understand the significance of Judgment Qilin, created by the new Purple Rank, to you. A divine skill you’re not inclined to learn is no better than the familiar Three Talents Sword.”

Words Ma Jin had spoken to Namgung Hwa-shin.

They meant he shouldn’t force himself to learn it. Jeong Yeon-shin, too, hadn’t said much to Namgung Hwa-shin on the matter.

During breakfast with comrades, he merely pushed extra side dishes toward him.

Saying that since he was now an inch shorter than himself, he ought to eat more. Blue-Eyed Demon Sword remarked that this was a rite of passage all young Radiant Demon Wing warriors experienced.

And now.

Creak.

Namgung Hwa-shin opened the door to an inner chamber of a grand hall and crossed the threshold.

“Ah, so it’s you.”

Had she been tending to the internal injuries inflicted by Ma Jin? Lying diagonally on a bed, Peng Family Blade Marquis Peng Ye looked at him and sneered.

“Well… I suppose they sent someone befitting my status? Of course, the Purple Rank wouldn’t personally grace this place with their presence.”

A trace of self-deprecation colored her lips. Namgung Hwa-shin spoke with a calm demeanor.

“Your words are correct. I’ve come as an envoy.”

“I know. Take a seat somewhere.”

Peng Ye gestured with her chin while still lying down, pointing toward a rosewood chair at one side of the bed.

Namgung Hwa-shin pulled the chair forward, delicately brushing off the dust on its wooden back with a subtle gust of palm energy before sitting.

“A stickler for cleanliness, huh? People call you the most perfect warrior, and I suppose it’s because you’re meticulous in everything. Well… as a b*st*rd child seeking recognition from your main family, I guess you had no choice.”

This time, Peng Ye let out a derisive chuckle. But Namgung Hwa-shin, without reacting to the jab, got straight to the point.

“You must have already received notice. Tell me how the Peng Family has responded to our fortress’s demands. Unconditional cooperation with future Fortress missions, the cession of the Bei Zhi Li branch family’s land, provision of internal injury medicine, overseeing the welfare of Bei Zhi Li and Shandong populace with progress reports every Mid-Autumn Festival… and everything else.”

“I was just marveling at how absurd it all is. Did all of this really come from Lotus Nezha’s head? No, more importantly, can such critical matters be decided here? With a fortress as massive as yours, you must be slow to act. I’ve heard your behavioral patterns are determined by some powerful administrative bureau.”

“The will of the Purple Rank is the will of the Fortress.”

“…”

Peng Ye closed her mouth.

The eyes of the resolute Peng Family blade warrior twitched momentarily. She seemed to feel a profound sense of astonishment.

Though she had earlier spoken of differences in status, it was only now that she truly grasped the gap between Desolate Fortress’s Purple Rank and the acting head of one of the Eight Great Families.

“They’re ready to annihilate us if we don’t comply. Of course, I expected to pay a price, but to go this far with our main family, so close to Beijing… What, are you planning to hunt down a great northern beast on a grand scale someday? Even if you mobilized the Nine Great Sects with heavenly luck and fielded two Purple Ranks, you’d still lack hands for all the heads of the Yao Clan experts.”

“I know nothing of such matters. Simply write your name at the bottom of the received document and return it.”

“You know nothing, and you’re no fun either. They should’ve sent that opium addict instead. Ah, but that wastrel is just a Blue Rank nobody, so he’s not of matching status, is he?”

Peng Ye grumbled to herself while rummaging through a shelf within reach. The higher-ups had already concluded discussions regarding Desolate Fortress’s demands, thinly veiled as proposals. All that remained was to sign.

At that moment.

[Peng Family, I inquire. Is White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin there? I sense the energy wave of the Great Evolution Divine Art.]

An aged, resonant voice thundered through the air. It seemed poised to fill the entirety of Green Jade Sword Manor with its sheer power.

The accumulated energy of a veteran master from a prestigious family was laid bare in this Six Harmonies Voice. In an instant, the shelf Peng Ye was reaching for trembled and rattled.

“That momentum… it’s the Emperor Sword Form, isn’t it…?”

Turning her head with irritation, Peng Ye raised one eyebrow.

She immediately deduced the cause of the commotion.

She had ordered that no guests be allowed while Desolate Fortress’s envoy was visiting, but the visitor prioritized their own business over the Peng Family’s face.

“Namgung Elder Council Head? This turtle-like old man…?”

Click.

While Peng Ye spat out profanities, Namgung Hwa-shin stepped out of the room.

Beyond the door he flung wide open.

In the midst of Peng Family blade warriors frozen in place, unable to move despite having their hands on their weapons, an old man in blue robes, who had somehow reached Peng Ye’s hall, stood stroking his beard.

It was a truly surreal scene. He had immobilized the warriors of a prestigious family with sheer presence alone.

It was as if an invisible palace had unfolded, turning the Peng Family blade warriors into subservient subjects.

[I ask for your understanding. This must be witnessed by many.]

He uttered a request with lofty composure. With an old, worn sword at his waist and clad in blue silk robes, an innate nobility radiated from the old man’s entire being.

Azure Sword Lord Namgung Mu-hak.

A direct descendant of the martial clan dominating South Zhili.

Having once led the elite sword corps of his family, the Azure Firmament Sword Heaven Brigade, he now effectively guided the Namgung Family, which had secluded itself, as the Elder Council Head.

Namgung Hwa-shin gazed at him silently before slowly raising both hands in a formal salute. It was the demeanor one showed to a stranger, not kin.

“Elder.”

“Call me Grandfather. I have much to say to you.”

Namgung Mu-hak spoke.

At the same time, the pressure enveloping the vicinity intensified.

With a crack, the ground split, forming a faint hemispherical barrier of energy around them. Peng Ye, who had been about to cross the threshold with a stern expression, hesitated.

She had not fully recovered from her internal injuries, making it unwise to step into the domain of the Emperor Sword Form.

“I hear that Desolate Fortress’s next opponent has been set as the Little Sword Queen of Diancang Sect. Thus, I have something to propose to you. A way to avoid facing the perilous Sun-Piercing Sword Art.”

Namgung Elder Council Head stood alone, exuding an almost invincible aura within the Peng Family’s domain.

Namgung Hwa-shin’s eyes wavered slightly.

He spoke slowly.

“…My superior is currently at Green Jade Sword Manor. If you have business with me, the proper order is to first notify the Purple Rank of our fortress. I will not listen.”

“This is family business. It has nothing to do with Namgung Hwa-shin of Desolate Fortress, so there’s no need to concern yourself with your superior.”

With each word, the pressure grew heavier. Small grains of sand and pebbles began to float into the air.

It was a rare occasion for the Namgung Family, which had secluded itself after losing much of its direct lineage, to step into the martial world. As a prestigious righteous sect, establishing face took precedence, hence the display of dominance.

It also hinted at their intent to cause a scene that would be spoken of widely.

Even as a righteous faction, they paid no heed to public opinion. This could be seen as the desperate resolve of a prestigious sect teetering on the brink of losing its legacy. It was as domineering as a military clan.

“…”

Namgung Hwa-shin’s face grew solemn.

He slowly moved his hand to his side, where his waist held the Desolate Sword, a companion since his initiation into the fortress.

“Do not draw it. Just listen.”

Namgung Mu-hak issued a curt warning, raising a hand behind him.

One of the ten blue-clad swordsmen accompanying the old man reacted immediately.

A middle-aged man carrying a silk-wrapped bundle on his back. In private, he had trained Namgung Hwa-shin as a shadowy sword instructor for over a decade.

“I know you have no desire for material things. Yet, this is different. Even you will be satisfied.”

He spoke lowly.

At the same time, a sound like a massive sheet of paper being torn apart rang out.

“Huh…?”

The old swordsman, Namgung Mu-hak, who had been standing nonchalantly, staggered for a moment. Simultaneously, the experts in the area snapped their heads upward.

The translucent energy barrier shattered into fragments. It happened in an instant. Through the cracks, dozens of blade-like gusts of wind surged down, forcing the Namgung Family experts to their knees in disarray.

Even Namgung Mu-hak was no exception. Suppressed groans echoed from various spots.

Step.

A well-polished leather boot touched the ground.

Backlit by the sunset. A figure with a hand resting on the hilt at their waist. An overwhelming wave of sword energy radiated from them.

Whether due to the twilight or not, their crimson robe took on a faint violet hue, shielding Namgung Hwa-shin behind it.

“Namgung Elder Council Head.”

The figure who had torn through the domain of the Emperor Sword Form spoke.

It was a strange thing. Despite addressing him with formal respect, it felt as though the word “old man” lingered in the air throughout the space.

The figure looked down at the old man’s voluminous white hair.

“State your business.”