Chapter 520: Chaos (6)

Jo Hyeonryang was, in his own way, a busy man.

You might say, what’s so busy about a League Leader, some honorary figurehead who only looks at the faces of noble guests and trades a few blessings?

But once you reached the Manifestation Realm, true training meant setting aside three solid days at a time, sitting cross-legged, plunging into meditation, probing the flows of qi.

Even having just a few appointments in a day wrecked that rhythm.

So although to others he looked like he spent all his time loafing, the League Leader himself was quietly burdened.

Take today, for instance.

Was it the eldest son of the Tang Clan?

Some report about a drug that could neutralize the poison of the Blood Sect’s Gu.

And why bring that to me in person?

Hand it to the strategists; if the Blood Sect rises again it’ll be useful.

But that was the job of the League Leader.

As the head of the Martial Alliance, if someone had merit, you met them face-to-face, praised them directly.

Well done, splendid, the future of the martial world is bright, a hundred years’ worth of pillars have emerged—things like that.

Meaningless? Maybe.

But it was exactly this ritual that bound the Orthodox together, thread by thread.

“You honor me with such words.”

The Tang Clan’s young master bowed his head.

Beside him, the extra baggage: the clan’s sole daughter, their strongest youngest child, precious jewel, the Tang Clan’s famous Poison Flower, also bowed.

Why had they sent out the pampered girl they usually guarded so tightly? Probably shopping her around for a match. Who cared.

Then the Commander of the Escort Division, Ma Jeonsang, entered and spoke quietly.

“Forgive the interruption during your audience, League Leader, but there is a man from the Hanlin Academy, an Instructor of the Imperial Lectures, who requests to see you. How shall I proceed?”

He didn’t whisper.

He wasn’t really asking the League Leader—he was asking the Tang guests for their forbearance.

The Chief Strategist must have judged this visitor worth seeing.

Jo Hyeonryang’s face twitched.

What is this? Someone I’m required to meet? The League Leader’s own will—what about that?

It didn’t exist.

The Martial Alliance Leader lived aggrieved.

So while the Tang guests withdrew to a side room, Jo Hyeonryang faced the middle-aged man in the audience chamber.

Manifestation Realm? A master?

What kind of scholar showed up a Manifestation-level master?

Of course, an Instructor of the Imperial Lectures wasn’t some village schoolteacher drilling snot-nosed kids.

They were great teachers of the Confucian order.

Equivalent in rank to a Sect’s Chief Instructor; in the Alliance there wasn’t quite an equivalent, maybe a Deputy League Leader.

And this scholar was a Manifestation Realm master?

It complicated Jo Hyeonryang’s thoughts.

No matter how far the Confucians drifted from the throne, they were still the mental bedrock of imperial administration.

And the throne was suspicious enough already—what if they had some unknown method to cultivate masters?

Hadn’t the Tang Clan just reported that the Jin Yiwei’s branch commander turned out to be a Blood-Strengthened Demon, a horror who reshaped his body with human blood?

And what had the Martial Alliance done?

Nothing.

Just muttered: ah, the times are turbulent.

Were they supposed to tie on headbands, raise banners with Heaven written on them, march to the throne with a protest?

Or scold the throne: how dare you create monsters, what kind of people are you?

Or threaten them—keep this horrible secret, or grant us gunpowder rights?

Impossible.

So they knew a terrible truth, and then?

And then nothing.

They’d already known the imperial officials bled the people dry.

Now they knew it was literal—squeezing blood, smearing it.

And that the abominations melted from the people’s flesh were now bristling in the martial world.

So Jo Hyeonryang’s mouth dried as he looked at the Instructor.

Another ploy from the Bureau against the martial world?

If one Instructor of the Lectures was Manifestation Realm, how many masters hid in the Bureau?

Maybe the Alliance would have to raise the banner of rebellion like the Demonic Cult after all.

“What business brings a giant to seek me?”

“Pray, do not call me a giant. I am not here as an Instructor of the Hanlin Lectures, but as a teacher seeking out his disciple.”

“Mm.”

Jo Hyeonryang made a sober sound.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

An Instructor of the Lectures was indeed a great teacher. But how did that make him a teacher here?

“Fate is subtle, netting together what cannot be grasped. At the end of such a Heaven’s Net, a bond of master and disciple was tied. The disciple’s name is Seomun Qing.”

“Mm? You mean the Heavenly Flower Sword girl?”

“Yes. Though I did not lead her in martial arts, still, as a teacher I am bound by that bond.”

Jo Hyeonryang blinked.

“Wait, aren’t you mistaken? Heavenly Flower Sword already has a sect and a master, and that master—well, anyway, it’s impossible.”

The Seo Mun Surin he knew would never permit a second master, whether old man or middle-aged scholar.

Tian Yuhak only smiled faintly.

“The Great Teacher herself knows of it.”

“Ah. Is that so?”

A smile spread on Jo Hyeonryang’s face.

If the Mad Bitch herself acknowledged it, well.

Relief bloomed into a smile.

Even if Yeo Gwanggyeon was—no, very much—no, enormously—disgraceful, she was still a great elder of the martial world, spiritual pillar of women warriors, above all a proud chivalrous knight.

Even if her motive for upholding justice was a rotten one—merely to prove a woman could uphold justice too—still, she stood for punishing evil, promoting good.

If Seo Mun Surin acknowledged this man as second master, then he was clean of things like Blood-Strengthened Demons.

And sure, scholar families had their household martial arts.

Among official families, that was hardly unusual.

They just couldn’t set up estates and businesses like local great houses, but any noble clan worth its name had at least one or two martial arts.

“So then, giant, what brings you?”

“Mm. In truth, I had gone with my disciple to tour Mount Lu.”

“Wait. Did you say Mount Lu?”

Jo Hyeonryang’s eyes bulged.

Tian Yuhak thought, for a man seated as second among the Ten Masters Under Heaven, he had a very expressive face.

And why shouldn’t Jo Hyeonryang be startled?

He’d been tensed for some Bureau scheme, and the moment that tension released, up popped Mount Lu—it shocked him worse.

There were already dubious rumors of the Absorbing Essence Demonic Art there, so the Alliance had been preparing a battle force.

Only, the rumor was so blatant they’d paused to re-check before marching.

That was the difference between Demonic and Orthodox.

The Demonic side heard of the art, threw down everything, and rushed men out—they wanted it so bad.

The Orthodox side checked: was the rumor true, or a plot? How large, what measures to minimize our own losses?

The Demonic mocked them, saying they lazed because they already had their own supreme arts.

“Ahem. My apologies. So, was it that flesh-within-flesh, that demonic art...?”

Tian Yuhak nodded gravely.

Jo Hyeonryang sighed, “Ahh.”

Tian Yuhak explained.

They had gone up the famed mountain; there they heard of the abomination.

And his disciple, incensed, declared:

Such a demonic art must not exist. As a member of the Orthodox, it must be pursued and erased.

“Just so! Truly! That is the spirit of the Orthodox—what a young dragon!”

Of course, if the elders of the Orthodox had any clarity left, they’d be howling in the underworld: blind fools calling themselves masters.

Tian Yuhak said he’d tried to dissuade her for danger.

But her will was set: if need be, she’d hunt the art alone. And as master, how could he crush that righteous will?

“Indeed. Indeed. A master’s role is so hard. When a disciple sets on a dangerous road, if her will is righteous, how can you block her?”

Jo Hyeonryang clapped agreement, almost too hard.

It was half habit from years as the Alliance’s face, but this time it was heartfelt.

And it made him envious.

That Mad Bitch, and even this Instructor—how lucky they were.

His own heir, Jo Hakche, spent all his time chasing skirts, while Heavenly Flower Sword was a born hero, throwing herself into peril.

Had she been good to begin with?

Or was Seo Mun Surin right all along: beat them until they’re good? Maybe he should try it on the young master.

Anyway, she went with her master, and along the way picked up a Murong this and a Namgung that.

Those kids? They must’ve returned to their clans by now.

They found the cursed tomb of the Shen Family—but it turned out to be no tomb at all, just a Blood Sect jar of solitude.

“The Blood-Viewing Great Array, they called it.”

“Sounds exactly like a Blood Sect name. And then?”

Fortunately, they confirmed the Absorbing Essence Art did not exist.

They were escaping when Yan Yunyeong of the Pearl River Yan Clan showed up, coffin-riding, seized Qing, harassed her, demanded she go on a pilgrimage of apology.

The tender, innocent disciple, ashamed at having borrowed a false name and earned hatred, agreed.

Even Tian Yuhak, thick-skinned as he was, blushed.

She was the apple of his eye, but even so—some lies went too far. Thinking of Qing’s antics under the guise of “Anonymous,” he almost couldn’t bear to speak.

And then—

“Mm. If it was the Heavenly Flower Sword girl, I can believe it. Ha. A fine spirit, but how will she survive this harsh world? Yet I cannot counsel her to act unrighteously, so truly, giant, you suffer.”

What? Tian Yuhak froze.

Were they even talking about the same person?

Was there a second Seomun Qing, a second Heavenly Flower Sword, one in the League Leader’s world and another in his?

He was confused.

What? “Understandable”? Qing, understandable, how?

But in that instant Jo Hyeonryang shot up.

“Wait! Then Heavenly Flower Sword is presently being chased by filth coveting demonic arts—heavens, we must mobilize a battle force, no, I myself, no, first the Chief Strategist—”

Tian Yuhak was shocked.

Even if she was a “young dragon of the Orthodox,” was that enough to make the Alliance Leader himself rush out?

He had spear in hand, about to charge.

“No! I have not come to ask rescue! I came to deliver my disciple’s message—that this matter might grow too great, so she begs the Alliance restrain its movement!”

“Mm? Restrain? When the future of the martial world is chased by filth? How could I restrain! Forgive me, giant, but I must—”

He strode quickly, urgent.

Because to Jo Hyeonryang, this was disaster.

If anything happened to Heavenly Flower Sword, blood would flood the martial world.

The so-called Ten Masters Under Heaven did not each seclude themselves for nothing.

A single flap of a great roc’s wing overturned the world. They had a tacit pact: do not stir, do not spill blood.

So he must go himself.

As Alliance Leader he could try to settle it with words; but if the Mad Bitch was unleashed?

That could not be allowed.

At that moment, Tian Yuhak shouted:

“Wait! Calm yourself—Bureau!”

Jo Hyeonryang stopped short.

“Bureau? What Bureau?”

“The Yan witch said she had only set time and place. She would seek aid through her connections with the Bureau. Soldiers would escort them to Hangzhou. The disaster you fear will not happen.”

“Ah. That is a relief.”

Jo Hyeonryang let out a deep sigh of relief.

And then his chest swelled.

Just how deep was the Heavenly Flower Sword’s heart!

Even endangered, she thought first of preventing wider war. She valued the peace of the martial world above her own life.

Seo Mun Surin’s teaching was right after all.

His own precious heir had been coddled. For the clan’s sake, maybe it was time to beat him straight.

Jo Hyeonryang steeled his heart.

The conclusion would only leave Jo Hakche wronged.