Chapter 964: Passing the Martial Alliance (4)

Jiangxi Province’s center held Ji’an County.

In the past it had been called Yuling Commandery, and according to the Romance of the Three Kingdoms—required reading for Central Plain people—it was a quiet little place with an astonishing lack of presence.

Because back then, the southeastern region of the Central Plain, the territory of Wu, was almost entirely wetlands and dense jungle—an extreme backwater where it was hard for humans to live.

That was also why Wu’s talented people died young in droves, since jungles and swamps were lands of disease and parasites.

But after that—several thousand years.

Little by little, the climate of heaven and earth cooled, the continent’s waterways tilted northward, and humans gained the power to fill in wetlands and push forests back.

So the southeast of the Central Plain transformed into an insanely fertile honeyland.

And along the way, Ji’an County started catching one lucky break after another—

its civil-service exam pass rate was suspiciously high.

Not only did it churn out top scores every exam, it even produced the unheard-of spectacle of first place in two consecutive sessions.

Nine passes from a single household. Father and son passing together. Uncle and nephew passing together. Cross the street and there are two grand chancellor houses. Within ten steps, three grand ministers. Walk a hundred steps and there are two households of high officials!

If you translated that into Qing’s hometown terms, it was like one neighborhood sending kids into every top university in the world, one after another.

So parents who valued learning migrated in with their children, and scholars who wanted to teach opened academies and took disciples—

until it grew into the great academic center of the southern Central Plain.

...Except.

That had become a bit of an old story now.

Why?

When people gather, money gathers.

When money gathers, flies gather.

And in Ji’an County, not just any flies latched on, but the worst kind—shit flies—and among them, the most vicious and harmful horseflies.

The World Martial World Unorthodox Delinquent Alliance Federation!

Shortened: World Unorthodox Alliance. Shortened again: the Unorthodox Coalition.

The dark-world bastards’ grand headquarters had moved in—so how could the city’s atmosphere survive?

Scholars fled under the squeeze of extortion, and parents who heard their child’s proud ambition—

“I want to grow up and become an unorthodox delinquent!”

“I want to extort innocent people, keep women around, live debauched, and then get stabbed to death!”

—turned white and bolted, fast as lightning.

Still, Ji’an County cradled low mountains, wide fields, and a great river—its goods were abundant, and its location as the southeastern hub of the Central Plain kept trade thriving.

So it remained a grand, bustling metropolis.

And so—

inside Ji’an County, the Unorthodox Coalition’s grand headquarters.

Its name: Unorthodox City.

Unorthodox City wasn’t a “city” in name only.

Dark-world bastards made enemies for a living, and weren’t they a breed that protected themselves with terrifying competence?

So they built an actual wall and erected a fortress—an impregnable stronghold.

And at the center of Unorthodox City stood the Lord’s Hall—the residence of the city’s owner.

In the main hall of the Lord’s Hall, a young man lay sideways on a high throne, propping his head on one hand, looking down.

Below his gaze—

an old man, thoroughly aged, skin full of wrinkles and liver spots, staring up at him.

The young man curled a savage smile.

“Hey. Why aren’t you lowering your eyes? How dare you open your eyes wide in front of an elder. Kid—when I was your age, I wouldn’t even step on an elder’s shadow. Seriously. Kids these days. Tsk.”

It wasn’t something a bright-young man should say to a dried-up old man—

but astonishingly, the young man was actually older.

A martial artist who reached the Transcendent Realm stopped aging, and their hair returned to black.

That phenomenon was called Returning Hair to True Black.

(Thanks to that, some people insist that the slowing of aging at the Harmonization Realm should be called “low-speed aging.”)

And if the Transcendent Realm’s transformation deepened?

Amazingly, elasticity returned to the skin—wrinkles smoothed out, gloss returned, and everything grew clean.

So to the eye, it looked like you were getting younger.

That was Youth-Return Reversion.

Youth-Return Reversion only made you look young; your skeleton, muscles, and internal organs still remained aged, so strictly speaking, you weren’t truly becoming young.

But at the Transcendent Realm, even an aged body boasted strength that slapped young people in the face, so in practice there wasn’t much difference.

They bothered to classify it, though, because beyond that—there existed a realm where you truly became young.

Once you pushed past mid Transcendent Realm and approached late stage, the waste of old bones, muscles, and organs burned away, and you were re-forged into a pure shape of youth.

Like fire in a furnace that burns impurities until only pure blue light remains.

That realm was Furnace-Fire Pure Blue.

And the young man was precisely that—Furnace-Fire Pure Blue, a true youth held in his hand—an absolute master of the martial world.

Paejon Bu Anpyeong!

Number one master of the dark world—Dark-World Supreme!

Third in the Ten Great Masters of the World!

Of course, Bu Anpyeong insisted he was the true number one under heaven and that he couldn’t accept the righteous faction’s biased ranking.

Anyway.

Even under Bu Anpyeong’s threat, the old man instead stiffened his eyes and held his head high.

Bu Anpyeong’s expression rotted in an instant—

WOOOONG...!

With a strange sound like the whole world was vibrating, the old man lurched hard.

For a moment—

THUD!

Both knees slammed brutally into the floor with a painful impact, and then the old man—

“KHUHK!”

—vomited blood in a gush.

“S-stop!”

“Stop? Stooop? Hey—your speech is short? How old are you? You got no father and mother? Is that how they taught you to act in front of an elder?”

Then, behind the Coalition Leader, an old man standing with both arms tucked into his sleeves added a line.

The Unorthodox Coalition’s Chief Strategist—First Seat Under Heaven, Sun Ung.

“Coalition Leader. He really might be a bastard who was raised that way, no? He’s a Blood Cult spawn, isn’t he. Filial impiety is probably the baseline for them.”

“Ah. That’s true. Now that I think about it, you have a point. Still, what should I do? A Blood Cult maggot dares crawl in here—”

“Normally, you kill pests the moment you see them, but... aren’t you curious what he has to say? No matter what I say, you’d want to hear him once anyway.”

“Our Chief Strategist knows me too well. Go on, maggot. Bark it out.”

The old man’s expression turned craven.

The stiff-necked posture from before was gone, and he put on a syrupy voice.

“Heheh, thank you for giving me a chance. Elder, this lowly one is Sang Buwal, Deputy Unit Commander of the sect’s Command Hall. Please feel free to call me Elder Sang.”

“Oh? Look at you. You were acting so stiff.”

“To be honest, I thought you’d like that kind of bold attitude. I was trying, in my own way, to make a good impression, but it seems my thinking was short. Heheh.”

Bu Anpyeong’s eyebrow twitched.

A man who didn’t hide his thoughts, who wasn’t ashamed to be craven—

Yeah. This one’s dangerous.

Of course, if he was dangerous, you just killed him.

“So? Why is a Blood Cult bastard here?”

“Heheh—well, I was wondering... would you consider aiming for the world together with our sect?”

An offer of alliance, out of nowhere.

Bu Anpyeong’s eyebrow sharply bent.

He turned his head to look at the Chief Strategist like, Did I just hear what I think I heard? and Sun Ung gave a subtle nod.

Meaning: hear him out.

“Hm. I thought it’d be some bullshit, but this is worse. Since my ears are already filthy, let’s stain them a little more.”

“Our sect only seeks to topple that rotten court, enshrine the true heaven, and open a new age. Yet even in a new age, the martial world must remain the martial world. Unlike that pitiful imperial family of today that looks down on the martial world, our Supreme wishes to coexist with it.”

“So you swallow the imperial court, and we swallow the martial world? Hm. It sounds pretty, but how? If you could do that, Blood Cult rule would’ve come long ago.”

“This time is different.”

Bu Anpyeong let out a soft, amused laugh.

“I’ve lived a long time, and among the people who say that, I’ve never seen a single one who was truly different. The one who’ll make it just makes it from the start. It’s not something you do ‘next time.’”

“This time is truly different. Because even those Mongol warriors have submitted to our sect’s order. Heheh.”

The smile vanished from Bu Anpyeong’s face.

“The Mongols are helping you?”

“They aren’t helping. They have already returned to our sect—devout Blood Cultists.”

“...Just because it comes out of your mouth doesn’t mean it becomes words. The more I listen, the more it’s pure bullshit. Did I look like a complete moron? Is it because your speech is cheap that you think I’m stupid too?”

“How could I lie about such a matter?”

“Hm.”

“In any case, as time passes, you will naturally learn the truth.”

Not a lie—real?

Bu Anpyeong’s eyebrow jerked hard.

*****

To young men of the righteous martial world, the Martial Alliance’s top-tier guest hall, Heavenless Pavilion, was like a dream.

Because it was the base of the most influential private society in the current martial world: the Half-Sword Twin-Blade Society.

But even so, it was hard to just walk up and ask to be accepted—look at the members.

Direct heirs at the successor level of great families, rising stars of the Nine Great Sects, and even a mysterious beauty from the North Sea Ice Palace (expelled).

For martial artists from small and mid-level sects, even starting a conversation felt like you needed permission—and on top of that, it was a guest hall for VIPs, so security around it was tight.

So there was that street where sorrowful youths from smaller sects lingered—taking pointless “walks” near Heavenless Pavilion, hoping that if they happened to run into someone, they might get spoken to.

And a woman crossed that street proudly.

Long eyes that slanted to the sides, corners sharply lifted in a fierce tilt, huge eyes with bean-sized pupils so the whites flashed above, below, left, and right—an impression so wicked it was hard to meet head-on.

And that crooked mouth, set askew, looked like she was burning with murderous intent over how to ruin an enemy—impossible to face.

Of course, despite that, the woman was beautiful.

The martial world’s most famous strategist—famed as a massive “wisdom pouch”—the Wisdom Pouch Manifestation, Sima Chunbong.

“Heh heh heh heh! Heavenly Flower Sword. My, my—goodness—how childish, unlike you!”

Sima Chunbong spotted Qing sunning herself in Heavenless Pavilion’s front courtyard, puffed out her chest, and swaggered.

“Oh.”

But Qing hadn’t heard.

Because once you faced a wisdom pouch that looked like it held infinite wisdom, your mind went dizzy and foggy until that was all you could see—nothing reached your ears.

Oh, it’s big. Really big. What even is this...

“Grrrr... this bitch doesn’t even wrap it anymore, she’s just blatantly—th-this—shameless...”

If not for the snarling sound at her side, Qing might have stayed there for a long time, staring like she’d been nailed in place.

Miss Moyong... you still haven’t kicked the habit.

“Heavenly Flower Sword? Where are you looking right now?”

“Ah. Sima-rang, you’re here?”

“My. Pretending you didn’t hear? How cute. But that kind of childish behavior isn’t good. Especially for a symbol of the era that will be praised from the far future, like us.”

“Huh. Childish?”

“Isn’t it? If you came to the Martial Alliance, shouldn’t you have come to meet your rival first? We are the one and only understanders under heaven.”

Qing narrowed her eyes.

So she’s sulking because I didn’t come see her first.

Well... she does have the kind of face that screams “no friends.”

Come to think of it, among the Half-Sword Twin-Blade Society, almost none of them looked like they’d have friends.

The only one with any real social skills was Zhuge, and ghost-member Chang Bini seemed to have a decent circle—limited to men.

As for the rest... San? Always wandering alone. Gunyeong has always played alone. Nana has issues with social skills. Sword-Freak is fine as long as she has a sword. Miss Gongsun is the same.

Hm. Half-Sword Twin-Blade Society—are you guys okay?

Whatever. If you’re not okay, what then. Everyone survives on their own.

That aside—Qing stretched a finger out.

“That aside—Heavenly Flower Sword, if you’ve been through something like that, you should naturally consult and discuss it with this Manifestation, the greatest intellect of the martial world. So why do I have to hear your news through someone else’s mouth—KYEHK!?”

Sima Chunbong yelped as she got jabbed in the side and sprang straight up.

Yeah. This is it.

Yeah—this feel, this perfect reaction. And boing— no, wobble wobble.

Sima Chunbong skittered back, clamped both arms tight to her sides, and went into a bizarre guarded stance.

Qing looked at her and broke into a bright, delighted smile.