Chapter 92

Instant Kill Martial Arts (4)

Soon, a hearty laugh spread across the young lord's face, and his eyes softened as they gazed at Jeong Yeonshin.

"Truly magnificent. I lost this time."

"Master Wangjian showed his prowess. I also felt it."

Jeong Yeonshin replied calmly, implying that it was not a matter of winning or losing in a contest of qi.

Master Wangjian. It was a kind of profound skill he had never encountered before. If he had faced it directly during the competition, he would have had to admit defeat.

"You felt it? I'm curious how you would handle it."

The young lord's smile deepened.

Jeong Yeonshin read the competitive spirit in his expression, a hallmark of one who walked the path of martial arts.

He thought the cultivators of the Nine Sects were the same, people with various faces.

"By the way, Shim Waryeong..."

Namgung Hwahsin approached Jeong Yeonshin and spoke.

"Despite its name, I heard that the sect's structure is not much different from the military. Under the protection of the Prince of Henan, it has become more like a private army. It's a large sect with many members."

"Close to the military..."

Jeong Yeonshin muttered, and the young man nodded.

"Even a hundred-man commander is not necessarily the best in the military. There are many more formidable martial artists within Shim Waryeong. These fallen ones are likely scouts. I suspect even more powerful experts will target you, Jeong Xiaoye..."

He trailed off, his face like jade clouded with concern.

His worry was not for himself but for Jeong Yeonshin, evident in his tone.

"I know a bit about the eldest son of Shim Waryeong."

The young lord, still holding his sword, approached and spoke. Blood still dripped from the precious blade.

"He's a strategist who excels at plotting. He would be a troublesome opponent if turned against."

"Your words suggest that his martial arts level is not the main concern."

"You understand well. He's a man who excels at using human waves. I've clashed with his main family a few times. You should be cautious. If the village where we spent the night seems strange, it would be best to return immediately. If possible, that is."

"......I will keep that in mind."

Jeong Yeonshin replied briefly and fell silent. The young lord's words and demeanor gave him an odd feeling.

They were supposed to be mortal enemies, yet the young lord offered advice in a gentle tone, as if speaking to a younger brother.

It was like the relationship between seniors and juniors in the martial world. The conversation with Jeong Yeonshin felt even more peculiar.

'Qingqilin Namgung Sejin... a strange person.'

Even though he had only been in the martial world for a short time, he felt he needed to be cautious. The camaraderie he had with Baiqilin could now extend to a mortal enemy. The boy tried to clear his mind.

He turned and picked up the fallen Yibei Sword.

Perhaps the sound of the palm technique had scared away the birds, making the forest path quieter than before.

"Burial is also a task. It's best to leave now."

Jeong Yeonshin said, and Namgung Hwahsin approached. He had been silently observing the conversation between his comrade and his half-brother.

"Are you injured internally?"

His question was curt, as if he had many thoughts on his mind. The boy shook his head, and he nodded silently.

Namgung Mi stood behind them, lips pressed together, watching Jeong Yeonshin.

"Let's go."

The boy said.

The group, each putting away their swords, resumed their journey. The attack by Shim Waryeong was no small matter.

However, it was not a problem that could delay their steps. That was the nature of martial artists. They gained fame by stepping over corpses.

'Ah.'

As he walked, Jeong Yeonshin suddenly realized how numb he had become to killing. He felt nothing.

He had cut down the enemies, and that was all. It was different from when he killed the martial artist of the Paegyeong Sect at Jeong Family Manor. He had to force himself to ignore it then.

Was it because he was being chased by a deadline? Or was it because he wanted to survive, even if it meant stepping over the bodies of his enemies?

Pitter-patter.

Summer rain began to fall, dropping in a fine, steady rhythm.

It seemed to be tears flowing in place of the bodies of Shim Waryeong. It wasn't bad that the sky mourned for them, as Jeong Yeonshin himself didn't know when he might end up like that.

The sound of rain on the leaves was clear. The only noise was Namgung Mi's annoyed sigh.

Jeong Yeonshin walked silently in the summer rain.

He was acutely aware of his new identity as a martial artist. The raindrops hitting his shoulders were cold.

* * *

Pitter-patter—

"The rain is pouring endlessly."

There was a hint of weariness in Changlinghua's voice, Namgung Mi. The sound of the rain seemed to swallow her words immediately.

It seemed that the rain was pouring over the entire region. The glass-like summer rain drenched the group thoroughly.

They had just entered the southern part of Nanzhili, where the main branch of the Namgung Family was located in Huizhou.

"The streets are quiet. Even with the rain, it feels unusually devoid of life."

Jeong Yeonshin's companion, Namgung Hwahsin, said. Despite the presence of his blood relatives, he was deliberately staying close to the boy.

His posture seemed to be assessing their position, but Namgung Mi looked at him disapprovingly.

The young lord, wearing a bamboo hat and walking ahead on the muddy ground, replied.

"The rain won't help much with the crops."

"Is it because of the poor harvest?"

"You're right, Ah Shin. It's becoming a major issue recently. Even if the common people manage to grow something, it gets taken by the strong young men. It's not uncommon for martial artists to do the same. Survival is the same for commoners and martial artists alike."

"The poor harvest has reached Nanzhili..."

"Rogue martial artists or those from minor sects don't care about the common people's lives. There are many who cause chaos. With the public sentiment so turbulent, you should carry plenty of dried food when traveling through the martial world."

Jeong Yeonshin watched the young lord, who was speaking with Namgung Hwahsin.

He had been gauging him all along. He had been doing so throughout their journey.

The occasional display of aura and the incredibly deep internal energy breathing, even his walking posture seemed to be practicing footwork.

He was already a complete martial artist. Jeong Yeonshin felt he had no chance of winning.

'If there were a flawless Tai Yanlong, he would be like this person.'

Jeong Yeonshin thought. This was the effort of a genius who had practiced longer than him, without any slack. He should be strong. Could he cut this person's throat?

"Hmm? Why are you looking at me like that?"

The young lord turned, sensing his gaze. The boy shook his head.

At that moment, Namgung Mi, who had been watching Jeong Yeonshin with a cold eye, approached briskly.

"We're almost at the main branch. I wonder if you enjoyed your last martial world tour."

"Is it your hobby to start trivial conversations? It's a low form of amusement."

The boy's indifferent reply made her snort.

Namgung Mi was a direct descendant who had learned the secret techniques of the Namgung Family. She had the eye to discern the weaknesses in martial arts.

The palm technique Yibei Cheng had used was no exception. There were problems with the signs before its execution and the precision of its direction. It was clumsy enough to be a significant flaw in the world of experts.

It was incomplete. Its power was astonishing.

'He's about to die, yet he gives me a strange feeling.'

She had felt it from the first meeting. His tone gave her a sense of unease.

It was an unusual feeling. It wasn't the kind of feeling you get from someone you've never met.

Among her peers, only her brother, Namgung Sejin, had earned her recognition.

Tai Yanlong of the Huangbao Family was dissolute, and Namgung Hwahsin, who inherited the blood of an assassin, was lowly. It was rare to find someone with outstanding martial arts, temperament, and lineage.

There were nine young martial experts in the world, known as the Nine Phoenixes.

She prided herself on being the only one among them.

There were no standout successors. No one had left a deep impression on her.

There was no one worth remembering. The only one who grated on her nerves was Weizhemiao of the Zhongnan Sect, who had earned the title of Dragon.

Namgung's direct line was the most powerful clan in Nanzhili.

Namgung Mi had never faced survival issues.

Her worldview, which could be considered luxurious for a rogue martial artist or someone from a minor sect, was her world. She liked the phrase "I am the only one supreme."

'Zheng Yeanshin.'

She had received information compiled by her family. She thought he was a somewhat outstanding newcomer who was getting in the way.

The boy who provided the pretext for the attack on the Namgung Family. That was all. He was not yet at the level to discuss the world. His age was a factor.

Then why? Why did he not feel unfamiliar?

Her senses as a qi master did not let go of the question.

She pondered it throughout the journey to Huizhou. A hypothesis suddenly came to mind, one that seemed absurd at first.

Namgung Mi had only once looked down on an enemy.

It was very intense. Even now, he dominated a corner of her mind.

The mask that opened like the mouth of an evil dragon, the calloused hand that had gripped her throat, the indifferent eyes, the blood-red robe, and the stern posture.

"You."

Namgung Mi moved her lips.

"Can you show me your hands once?"

* * *

Yibei Cheng's Thousand Gold Arsenal.

A castle made of white stone walls, as grand as the inner castle. The arsenal was a vast repository of martial arts manuals.

The marble walls were said to have been brought from the royal palace of the Daoli Kingdom, which had been destroyed by Yibei Cheng.

The guards at the gate were vigilant, as the arsenal housed the secret manuals of Yibei Cheng's martial arts.

The sound of palm techniques had driven away the birds, making the forest path quieter than before.

"About here, I think..."

Inside the vast room, filled with the unique scent of books, a single white-robed warrior stood before the rows of ancient bookshelves.

The young girl, the youngest after Zheng Yeanshin, was called Ma Guangyi's White Cat.

As if to say it was a fitting nickname, she looked around the arsenal with large, cat-like eyes.

"What are you looking for?"

"Ah."

The heavy voice from the side made Xin Sobin turn her head.

She had been extremely focused. So much so that she hadn't noticed another martial artist approaching until he was right next to her.

"Hongzhoujian, Senior."

He was a martial artist who had survived countless battles in the military. His aura was rough and strong.

The middle-aged warrior, with scars on his face and neck, nodded solemnly.

"Are you injured internally?"

His question was curt, as if he had many thoughts on his mind. The boy shook his head, and he nodded silently.

Namgung Mi stood behind them, lips pressed together, watching Jeong Yeonshin.

"Let's go."

The boy said.

The group, each putting away their swords, resumed their journey. The attack by Shim Waryeong was no small matter.

However, it was not a problem that could delay their steps. That was the nature of martial artists. They gained fame by stepping over corpses.

'Ah.'

As he walked, Jeong Yeonshin suddenly realized how numb he had become to killing. He felt nothing.

He had cut down the enemies, and that was all. It was different from when he killed the martial artist of the Paegyeong Sect at Jeong Family Manor. He had to force himself to ignore it then.

Was it because he was being chased by a deadline? Or was it because he wanted to survive, even if it meant stepping over the bodies of his enemies?

Pitter-patter.

Summer rain began to fall, dropping in a fine, steady rhythm.

It seemed to be tears flowing in place of the bodies of Shim Waryeong. It wasn't bad that the sky mourned for them, as Jeong Yeonshin himself didn't know when he might end up like that.

The sound of rain on the leaves was clear. The only noise was Namgung Mi's annoyed sigh.

Jeong Yeonshin walked silently in the summer rain.

He was acutely aware of his new identity as a martial artist. The raindrops hitting his shoulders were cold.

* * *

Pitter-patter—

"The rain is pouring endlessly."

There was a hint of weariness in Changlinghua's voice, Namgung Mi. The sound of the rain seemed to swallow her words immediately.

It seemed that the rain was pouring over the entire region. The glass-like summer rain drenched the group thoroughly.

They had just entered the southern part of Nanzhili, where the main branch of the Namgung Family was located in Huizhou.

"The streets are quiet. Even with the rain, it feels unusually devoid of life."

Jeong Yeonshin's companion, Namgung Hwahsin, said. Despite the presence of his blood relatives, he was deliberately staying close to the boy.

His posture seemed to be assessing their position, but Namgung Mi looked at him disapprovingly.

The young lord, wearing a bamboo hat and walking ahead on the muddy ground, replied.

"The rain won't help much with the crops."

"Is it because of the poor harvest?"

"You're right, Ah Shin. It's becoming a major issue recently. Even if the common people manage to grow something, it gets taken by the strong young men. It's not uncommon for martial artists to do the same. Survival is the same for commoners and martial artists alike."

"The poor harvest has reached Nanzhili..."

"Rogue martial artists or those from minor sects don't care about the common people's lives. There are many who cause chaos. With the public sentiment so turbulent, you should carry plenty of dried food when traveling through the martial world."

Jeong Yeonshin watched the young lord, who was speaking with Namgung Hwahsin.

He had been gauging him all along. He had been doing so throughout their journey.

The occasional display of aura and the incredibly deep internal energy breathing, even his walking posture seemed to be practicing footwork.

He was already a complete martial artist. Jeong Yeonshin felt he had no chance of winning.

'If there were a flawless Tai Yanlong, he would be like this person.'

Jeong Yeonshin thought. This was the effort of a genius who had practiced longer than him, without any slack. He should be strong. Could he cut this person's throat?

"Hmm? Why are you looking at me like that?"

The young lord turned, sensing his gaze. The boy shook his head.

At that moment, Namgung Mi, who had been watching Jeong Yeonshin with a cold eye, approached briskly.

"We're almost at the main branch. I wonder if you enjoyed your last martial world tour."

"Is it your hobby to start trivial conversations? It's a low form of amusement."

The boy's indifferent reply made her snort.

Namgung Mi was a direct descendant who had learned the secret techniques of the Namgung Family. She had the eye to discern the weaknesses in martial arts.

The palm technique Yibei Cheng had used was no exception. There were problems with the signs before its execution and the precision of its direction. It was clumsy enough to be a significant flaw in the world of experts.

It was incomplete. Its power was astonishing.

'He's about to die, yet he gives me a strange feeling.'

She had felt it from the first meeting. His tone gave her a sense of unease.

It was an unusual feeling. It wasn't the kind of feeling you get from someone you've never met.

Among her peers, only her brother, Namgung Sejin, had earned her recognition.

Tai Yanlong of the Huangbao Family was dissolute, and Namgung Hwahsin, who inherited the blood of an assassin, was lowly. It was rare to find someone with outstanding martial arts, temperament, and lineage.

There were nine young martial experts in the world, known as the Nine Phoenixes.

She prided herself on being the only one among them.

There were no standout successors. No one had left a deep impression on her.

There was no one worth remembering. The only one who grated on her nerves was Weizhemiao of the Zhongnan Sect, who had earned the title of Dragon.

Namgung's direct line was the most powerful clan in Nanzhili.

Namgung Mi had never faced survival issues.

Her worldview, which could be considered luxurious for a rogue martial artist or someone from a minor sect, was her world. She liked the phrase "I am the only one supreme."

'Zheng Yeanshin.'

She had received information compiled by her family. She thought he was a somewhat outstanding newcomer who was getting in the way.

The boy who provided the pretext for the attack on the Namgung Family. That was all. He was not yet at the level to discuss the world. His age was a factor.

Then why? Why did he not feel unfamiliar?

Her senses as a qi master did not let go of the question.

She pondered it throughout the journey to Huizhou. A hypothesis suddenly came to mind, one that seemed absurd at first.

Namgung Mi had only once looked down on an enemy.

It was very intense. Even now, he dominated a corner of her mind.

The mask that opened like the mouth of an evil dragon, the calloused hand