Chapter 559: Recuperation Trip (4)

When the Martial Alliance first received the tip about the Blood Camp at Nosan — and the news had come from none other than the Royal Academy’s Senior Lecturer — the Alliance’s leadership went cold all through.

The words were enough to make men shudder.

Absorbing-Demonic Force, the Blood Cult, and the Heavenly Flower Sword.

Absorbing-Demonic Force is a matter of consequence.

The Blood Cult is a matter of consequence.

But above all, the Heavenly Flower Sword — that was the single most consequential, highest-priority matter.

Because the Heavenly Flower Sword had done the unthinkable: instead of crying for help, she begged them not to intervene.

Her intention was plain. To shoulder whatever larger bloodletting had occurred alone and pull out quietly rather than drag the righteous world into a full-scale war.

How admirable, how grown-up.

She is only twenty-one. A warrior at twenty-one is the age for bluster and recklessness — the time when a boy feels drunk on the first flush of strength.

That is why youth in the martial world makes so much trouble in their twenties: swollen with pride, looking down on others, a greenhorn who cannot tell heaven from earth, strutting on scant power until he breaks and wails for forgiveness.

But look at the Heavenly Flower Sword.

Even though she is a prodigy who smashed the record for youngest transcendent by miles, there is not the faintest glimmer of arrogance.

(Her friends might disagree.)

A model student in kung fu, she greets elders with a respectful, winning smile; she offers pleasantries and asks after their health in that sweet, lively voice without so much as a shadow of strain.

Old men everywhere whine that their dying wish is to live long enough to see a granddaughter like the Heavenly Flower Sword — so they poke their own children and disciples like fools.

There is simply no prettier girl in the realm. Even her face is pretty.

She befriends both scions of great houses and wandering ronin alike; she makes no distinctions of background or faction.

She hates the wicked and never looks away from injustice; though young, she is an upright, confident knight-errant.

What is the Martial Alliance?

Is it not a fellowship of warriors walking the Way, joining forces to secure peace for the world?

The Heavenly Flower Sword’s demeanor, its very presence, is the spirit of the Martial Alliance incarnate.

So when that report arrived, nothing in the Alliance could help but explode.

Had Qing cried out, “Help! Help! Save the Heavenly Flower Sword!” — well, the Alliance’s mood would have been different.

They would have thought: the child is still a child; she cannot tell where to step and where not to, and she’s caused yet another unprecedented catastrophe despite being the youngest transcendent on record.

But instead?

“Please, don’t act rashly. This is my doing. I will deal with it and return.” —

To hear such words from the one you ought to shelter, how could the elders sit still?

That said, large organizations are not quick to move like lightning.

Rushing forward with a handful of men would only invite trouble — take a wounded dog and it will leap at you, that is the martial nature.

They called in masters, gathered combat units, and assembled forces until ten fighting corps — three hundred warriors in all — were mustered.

Three hundred, to be sure, is close to a full mobilization of orthodox territories.

Of those, three corps — roughly a hundred men — were sent to Nosan to follow the Heavenly Flower Sword’s testimony and trace the Blood Cult’s trail.

The remaining seven corps — two hundred or so — were to head for Hangzhou to rescue the Heavenly Flower Sword herself.

At the Martial Alliance’s disposal happened to be the peerless master Moyong Seongik. He had dashed off when he heard his runaway daughter had caused trouble and, upon hearing she’d fled again from the very rescue, was at his wits’ end; so the Ten Great Masters of the World ranked Gu Wi accepted command.

With Moyong Seongik as commander, the Martial Alliance’s large-scale rescue force set out for Kaifeng Prefecture!

They boarded the canal; their swift cutters charged downstream.

Near Suzhou they happened upon a sightfit for mandarins — a government boat drifting by with drums beating and musicians singing, the officials there feasting on deck.

So very the way of the mandarinate: carefree, even at times when the world might be at risk.

They did not know, of course, that those drumbeats were a hollow echo.

****

Kaifeng Prefecture is a city marked by the shame of a great warrior of the past.

After all, it is merely a peak and then a transcendent — what of it? To have reached the transcendent and then to flutter petals and be fêted so embarrassingly — ugh, if only my feet were intact I’d kick my blanket off and leave.

How does one become a transcendent? Then a super-transcendent?

In any case — Kaifeng!

And Kaifeng’s pride is the Martial Alliance.

A carriage pulled into the Alliance gates.

The gate sentries verified identity, flung the doors wide, then hurried off in a panic, leaving the place glaringly unattended.

The carriage, without guide or escort, rolled up as if it were entitled to the Alliance’s most honored guest hall — the Mucheon Pavilion, the Alliance’s finest lodging for supreme guests.

The Pavilion’s proud stewards — typically infamous for turning away unannounced guests with a staunch “You may not enter here” — somehow received this party with unaccustomed brightness, as if the right person had come at last.

“Oh, how presumptuous, to welcome such a precious guest like this. Have you all been well? There hasn’t been a disturbance from any impossible guest, has there? If there has been, tell me and I’ll teach them a lesson.”

Who would dare put on a scene at the heart of the Martial Alliance?

But the speech was so charming and so welcome that the stewards, without thinking, simply handed over the highest chamber of the Mucheon Pavilion.

Thus Qing and her party at last stowed their burdens and — since they had come to the Martial Alliance — sent word that they would pay respects to the Alliance Chief.

But then — the Alliance Chief?

“My child!”

“Ah! The Heavenly Flower Sword Seomun Qing pays her respects! How have you been?”

Qing, still lying on her bed, tried to force herself upright.

“Oh, child, lie still. Do not rise. What on earth has happened to you?”

Jo Hyeonryang, a master of no mean repute, could not conceal the shape of emotion on his face no matter how he held himself.

This foolish creature — though she feigned nonchalance, the corners of her eyes trembled and she drew breath furtively; trying to appear well before an elder tugged at the heartstrings, making one grateful and guilty at once.

Jo Hyeonryang was appalled.

He had organized the rescue force and sent them out, and now where had those fools gone — did they mean to rescue or to sightsee? And this one, walking back in on her own feet — what in the world?

Still, Qing forced herself up.

Jo Hyeonryang stopped her and prevented her from standing fully to salute; she could only offer an apologetic, awkward smile while she scratched the back of her neck.

Jo Hyeonryang breathed a wry exclamation.

Except for her slender, white hands, every visible part of her was wrapped in bandages; even her throat was bound and medicinal patches plastered all over her face.

“Hehe, it’s the sort of wound that heals with rest,” Qing said.

At that Jo Hyeonryang sighed in relief.

Indeed, her voice was not hollow, so there was no sign of wasting away.

More than that, her vigor was overwhelming — a sight to make even a master do a double-take. They said a great man shows astonishing growth in three days; indeed, this pretty girl’s aura was extraordinary, so that even a seasoned master could not gauge the height of her realm. It felt as if they were in the presence of a Flower Realm master — Flower Realm, Flower Realm...?

“Child, child? Now, do not be frightened. I am not here to reproach you, so answer me plainly. Have you been stricken by the Possession Path?” Jo Hyeonryang’s inquiry was simple.

Twenty-one. And she had become a super-transcendent only last year — it seemed impossible she would already have reached the Harmony of Transcendence.

In one year, from early super-transcendent to mid-super-transcendent — that leap would be an unheard-of marvel.

But possession could be possible.

Qing’s appearance was that harrowing.

Jo Hyeonryang knew how warriors could become beasts before the presence of true power, how they could cast off human kindness, how the desperate pursuit of power in the face of life and death could push one into the gateway of Possession.

Jo Hyeonryang himself had once stood at that gateway after being battered by Yegwang-kin every three days; he knew the ghastly red vistas and how fatal their attraction could be.

If Yegwang-kin had been a mere dog rather than a woman, Jo Hyeonryang might well have succumbed to Possession himself. In the end he desisted when he realized possession would not give him the right to beat that woman, and he renounced it.

“It’s not that,” Qing said.

“I do not wish to blame you. Overcoming the Demon-Heart Path is hard, child. You are only twenty-one. You have perhaps sixty, seventy fruitful years ahead. This is not something you cannot achieve. Possession is grand in its way, but your nature is upright, gentle, and kind, able to hold and care for others — there is no need for me to fear for you.” Jo Hyeonryang’s words were warm and sincere.

“Alliance Chief, forgive my shameful words in front of you, but the girl has reached a small realm; by luck she has touched the realization of Harmony.” Qing announced.

At that, a wave of energy spread out — not a dangerous technique, merely a master’s chi-shield to cut off sound, the kind of acoustic blanketing the super-elite use to silence a room.

“Ahem ahem. I do not suspect you. Then, could you tell me of your Three Sources, your Three Suns?” Jo Hyeonryang asked.

“It was I, you, and us. Because I am, there are friends; because friends are, there is me. Together we make up the world. Hehe, it’s a little embarrassing...” Qing answered.

The Harmony Realm’s triad demands a clear inner grasp of each one’s Three Suns; only by embracing them in the heart does one reach the state.

“Very good! The self is humanity, the other is wisdom, yet the other is also humanity — you can become the great earth. Gathered in this way, all create the sky; your world will broaden until it holds the world itself.” Jo Hyeonryang praised.

To impart the Three Suns to someone below Flower Realm does little good and often harms; unless one awakens it oneself, dwelling only on those three tenets becomes a stumbling block. That was why Jo Hyeonryang had silenced the chamber to ask.

He was astonished.

Flower Realm? Harmony Realm? Twenty-one?

What was he doing at twenty-one? He had been riding the crest of the peak, drinking and carousing with women, leering at beauties and thinking himself clever — and now this.

Flower Realm, really?

Could it be true? Jo Hyeonryang’s sight was narrow, his experience limited; how could anyone reorder the world by his own view and arrive at that reasoning?

Unless she lied about her age — if she were only four or five years older, he could understand. But as it stood...

Jo Hyeonryang’s eyes trembled.

“Alliance Chief?”

“Ah, ah. Yes, yes. Truly a boon for the martial world. Strange — no, truly, congratulations.” He stammered.

“Thank you. I still have far to go.” Qing replied.

“Far? Humility taken too far becomes rudeness. If you say you are lacking, then where are we not lacking in the world? Do not entertain such thoughts except to make fools of the world.” Jo Hyeonryang chided.

“Yes...” Qing’s answer drooped.

Jo Hyeonryang checked himself.

“Ahem. No, that is not it. Hmm. Seeing you now fills me with joy; to hear such news makes the future of our orthodox martial world secure and swells my heart with satisfaction I scarcely can put into words.”

“Thank you. It’s all thanks to this great age’s transcendent genius that is myself.” Qing said with a grin.

“Eh?” Jo Hyeonryang blinked, then realized it was a teasing quip he liked and laughed with indulgent warmth.

“You do speak well. But — hmm.” He grew serious. “Have you told the world of your achievement?”

“I wanted to, but Jegal Ihyeon, ah — I mean Jegal Ihyeon-sama said it would be unwise, so I told only my close friends for now.” Qing answered.

“Good. That obstinate child of the alliance’s academy — though talkative, there was substance to his words. A sound choice.” Jo Hyeonryang said.

Even he, named among the Ten Great Masters, felt the sting of envy at such an achievement; if he was jealous, what would others do?

If it ended in mere jealousy, they might be lucky.

There are many forces opposed to the orthodox martial world.

This young Flower Realm master is on the trajectory to become the next supreme under heaven; would they simply leave her be?

She is not merely a supreme; she is the sprout of an absolute power unlike any before — the kind of unparalleled strongman like the legendary Heavenly Martial Emperor. All know the catastrophe an uncontrollable absolute power can wreak.

Even without going far, the mandarins themselves would not leave this child alone; indeed, the imperial house has already drawn its blade close to the martial world — and that, it occurs to him, was revealed by this very child.

Truly a great boon to the orthodox world.

Jo Hyeonryang’s gaze deepened.

Of course, publicizing it need not be disastrous.

“A twenty-one-year-old Flower Realm master” sounds absurd to the ears; no one will believe it, perhaps.

“Decide whether to publicize it after consulting your masters. I, an outsider, should not interfere.” Jo Hyeonryang advised.

“Oh, outsider? You are a venerable elder of our orthodox school — informally, you are an instructor to me.” Qing said with a wink that made Jo Hyeonryang’s heart skip.

Every single word she spoke was irresistibly charming.

How could heaven have birthed the Heavenly Flower Sword and then also that Yegwang-kin!

How could such a wretch have such an adorable disciple?

It simply made no sense!

Perhaps one ought to beat one’s disciples?

No — he resolved to saw a switch and fashion a whole array of rods; this child was beyond correction by a mere rod.