A peerless master, known in the world as the Buddha Lord.
Baek Yak was, without a doubt, an object of admiration, leading one of the Nine Great Sects.
Her internal energy accumulation was bound to be close to the limits of humanity.
There was no reason to incinerate food with internal energy. Meaning, as one aged, it was only natural to take care of one's body.
'Are you listening?'
Jung Yeonshin, who had been speaking passionately, momentarily paused.
The leader of the Emei Sect was smiling. The faintly raised corners of her lips evoked the image of the Buddha's enigmatic smile.
Because her mouth was usually set in a rigid line, even this slight loosening made her expression all the more striking.
Was this a rare sight?
The expressions of the monks seated on either side of her changed. Some slightly parted their lips, others raised their eyebrows. It was as if their vow of silence had been broken.
Though they had previously remained seated in silence, only exchanging secret voice transmissions, they now showed visible reactions.
In the midst of this, Baek Yak slowly opened her mouth.
"You, benefactor, are a master of sight arts."
Her voice, carrying a faint trace of laughter, was immensely benevolent. Jung Yeonshin nearly moved his lips to respond instinctively but instead merely parted them with composure.
"I am not without some knowledge."
"It also means that your way of seeing is different. Though there are many sight arts in this land, most do not deviate from a similar path."
"…Pardon?"
"The way you perceive people's appearances is unique. Like a parent observing their child, like a grandchild caring for their grandparent… Your insights carry a mnemonic verse, and within that mnemonic verse, an intent is contained. It warms this old woman's heart."
With just a single statement, she had penetrated the essence of Jung Clan Movement Arts.
It was truly remarkable.
Jung Yeonshin's eyes widened slightly. In contrast, Baek Yak's gaze softened, gentle wrinkles forming as her eyes curved downward.
"Now, I finally understand the sacrifices you have made."
"What do you mean?"
"I speak of the proclamation you wrote to announce the Duel Grand Tournament to the world. The demonic factions are, by nature, like the fur of a macaque, difficult to gather in one place, yet you penned the duel invitation in such a striking manner that they could not back away."
Baek Yak subtly straightened her narrow shoulders as she continued in a low voice.
"When I first read those words, I was reminded of the reckless heroism of my youth. Back when I pursued justice for the people, simply following my heart."
"My maternal grandfather…?"
"It was a shallow assumption. You merely donned uncomfortable attire to draw attention. Yet, I failed to recognize the parable of the Buddha who enters hell for others."
"Ah."
"To display a proclamation to the entire world is to bear an immense burden. Every letter must account for the gaze of the people… The weight you have endured must have been great."
"I am ashamed."
Jung Yeonshin slightly lowered his chin as he replied. Was it because he was in the presence of a monk? There was something that weighed on his heart, causing his nod to falter.
Baek Yak smiled faintly.
"I will instruct the disciples of our sect. Once this martial tournament concludes, Emei shall honor the Radiant Demon Squad as esteemed guests. When the temple is rebuilt in the future, please visit us. Should relics emerge from this old monk's deceased body, you are welcome to offer your respects at my stupa."
"I will come to see the living sect leader, not the deceased."
"From the look in your eyes, it seems you have no intention of yielding the Golden Wings Sect's leader to this old monk."
"He is an enemy of all righteous martial artists."
"I understand. Then I shall only hope that my movement technique proves swifter than yours. The one who steps onto the stage first will face the Golden Wings Sect's leader."
"My Ten Li Radiance Step differs from the movement technique of the Emei Sect. It lacks the principle of stillness within movement and instead excels in speed and abrupt directional changes. Please, abandon the notion and take care of your lower back."
Low laughter flowed. It came from Baek Yak and the Emei monks.
For once, Jung Yeonshin's words were not a provocation but a sincere piece of advice. It was a comfortable conversation. The Nine Great Sects were indeed the Nine Great Sects.
"Since Emei, too, is a martial sect of the Jianghu, we cannot extend excessive favor to Desolate Fortress… But now that I have cleared my misunderstandings about you, I cannot stop the feelings that arise."
Baek Yak gazed at the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad with clear eyes.
The young man before her could not possibly know. Just how many worldly sects and high-ranking officials climbed Emei Mountain, hoping to gain some secular advantage from a few words spoken by the sect.
Monks who could shatter boulders. Taoists who walked on air.
The nine sects known as the Nine Great Sects were not only renowned martial factions but also carried great influence as Buddhist monasteries and Taoist temples.
Their ability to sway public sentiment often reached as far as the Forbidden City in Beijing.
Yet, this was of no concern to the leader of the Radiant Demon Squad.
"I have considered a few methods to confront the Golden Wings Sect's leader."
Jung Yeonshin spoke, Baek Yak rolled her prayer beads as she responded, and at times, a few Emei monks joined the conversation.
The uniquely carefree atmosphere of the Nine Great Sects dissipated.
—The leader of the Radiant Demon Squad is different from what I had heard. The years spent reciting the Lotus Sutra have been in vain.
—We have overestimated his maternal grandfather without reason. If one wishes to enter the Buddha's Boundless Samadhi through martial arts, they must not be swayed by prejudice.
—Did he not bestow the profound technique of a peerless master upon us with his kind heart? It would be fitting to call him a Bodhisattva.
The faint scent of incense, reminiscent of the monastery, slowly faded as peaceful conversations continued.
"Benefactor."
"Yes, Master."
"If, after the martial tournament, both of us still live, come to me again and ask about the Pact of Mount Hua. It concerns the heroes of the past."
Baek Yak spoke.
A trace of confusion flickered in Jung Yeonshin's eyes. The Pact of Mount Hua. It was something that had been mentioned in passing by the Blood Flame Cult's leader, just before his body was incinerated by his maternal grandfather's azure flames.
It was said to be a pact made between the masters of the Nine Great Sects and the heroes of old.
Jung Yeonshin gave a small nod.
"I shall do so."
"When that time comes, it would be best if you left behind the one following you."
Baek Yak glanced past Jung Yeonshin's shoulder. His deep, unfathomable gaze held the darkness of a starless night.
For a moment, Jung Yeonshin's shadow rippled with an eerie undulation.
Over the past two days, he had heard many things.
—Be wary of the Heaven-Piercing Dragon Scales Technique. It is the supreme technique of the Golden Wings Sect's leader. The way his speed suddenly accelerates is as troublesome as the unpredictable movements of supreme martial arts experts. Even this old monk nearly suffered a great setback.
—If, by chance, you must face the Golden Wings Sect's leader, avoid using Full Sky Flower Rain at all costs. Her Heaven-Flipping Dragon Cleave has a wide trajectory, yet no openings to exploit. It is a martial art that fills every maneuver with overwhelming force.
—Do not be deceived by the Golden Wings Sect's leader's reputation as the most beautiful woman in Sichuan, nor by the seemingly gentle nature of the Ten Perfection Sect's leader. The number of commoners they have slain in the Sichuan Jianghu…
It was not only Baek Yak and the Emei monks.
The leader of the Tang Clan and the Little Sword Queen of Mount Dianqing also sought out Jung Yeonshin separately to relay various messages. The Little Sword Queen, however, was of little help.
In the meantime, Jung Yeonshin had to once again send away Xiahou Wei-Jin and Cheon So-so, whom he had briefly reunited with at the Tang Clan.
Their mission was to gather the scattered warriors of the Heavenly Spirit Sword Squad, the Immortal Spirit Wood Squad, and the Obeying Heaven Squad.
For the world had now fallen into an era of chaos.
A martial artist with the character for 'Desolate' engraved on his shoulder was bound to become a target for all sorts of Jianghu warriors, and in times of famine, this was even more so.
"Hah! Those beggars know well about Desolate Fortress' level of supplies. Even the Desolate Sword alone is a treasured blade that's hard to find in the world, so lowly vagrant swordsmen, ignorant of their place, rush toward it like moths to a flame. No matter how formidable the white rank of Desolate Fortress may be, once their stamina is repeatedly drained, they will eventually collapse and die in some remote place."
"They'll arrive before the day of the Martial Tournament."
With those words, Xiahou Wei-Jin and Cheon So-so departed, glancing back from time to time even as they shrank into the distance.
A gesture filled with concern. Perhaps it weighed on their hearts to leave their junior behind in the hands of the Golden Wings Sect's leader. It was different from when they had faced the Ghost Roar Tyrant King within the Flood Dragon Formation.
After that.
Even the banquet on the eve of the Martial Tournament proceeded in silence.
The great masters of the righteous sects rarely spoke. Even the clattering of chopsticks was absent.
A man who had committed massacres against the northern nomadic tribes, the master of the previous Pure Demon Alliance's leader, the one who had devoured an Imugi's internal elixir.
It was the first time that three of Sichuan's Thirteen Celestial Lords had gathered in one place.
The Tang Clan, having lost all its heirs, subtly revealed its concerns that they might now lose even their benefactor.
Qingcheng and Emei remained in seclusion through the night, seemingly spending their remaining time with their sect leaders.
Such was the highest echelon of the Sichuan Jianghu. A testament to just how much of an impact this tournament would have.
Step.
After downing a few cups of Shaoxing wine, Jung Yeonshin walked out of the banquet hall alone.
Through the night air, intermittently filled with hushed voices, he walked slowly over the darkened ground, eventually spotting a group of children playing in a corner.
Branch family children of the Tang Clan.
At a glance, they were in a similar position as him. Unable to endure the heavy atmosphere of the adults.
"Next, next, it's my turn!"
"I want to ride more. Push me ten more times."
"I already pushed you twenty-five times…!"
"This time, I really mean it."
They were arguing over a Dano Festival swing, whispering complaints and responding with mock irritation. It was quite endearing.
"Are we waiting again? I want to fly in the air like when Yeo-hwa brother held me."
"But Ryeo-ryeo sister made me jump even higher."
The names of the twin siblings, the Venomous Dragon Tang Yeo-hwa and the Venomous Phoenix Tang Ryeo-ryeo, came up.
Even as children, they were still of Tang Clan blood.
Their expressions darkened in an instant, as if they knew of the two's deaths. Even the words Flood Dragon Formation were mentioned.
From a distance.
Jung Yeonshin stood alone, watching in silence until the children eventually left.
Suddenly, his waist felt heavy.
"..."
After a moment of breathing in the night air, he placed the plate of food he had taken from the banquet hall onto his shadow. It was a dish of dumplings.
Ssshhhhh—
Nothing happened. Time simply flowed on in quiet stillness.
Then, at last.
The dawn began to break in the distance.
Faint light spread, reaching all the way to his feet. The silent glow of the early morning clung to the ropes of the Dano Festival swing.
And gradually, it shifted to Jung Yeonshin's waist sash, then to his sword guard, before suddenly flashing white in an instant.
At that moment, he instinctively named his divine sword.
Yurei.
The thunder left behind upon the earth.
* * *
A day that the chroniclers would speak of for generations to come.
This was the perspective of some among those who had turned Mount Meishan in Sichuan into a frenzy on this very day.
In some circles, it was already considered a foregone conclusion.
There was no qualification required to witness the duel of peerless masters.
People were bound to gather. An event that would soon shake not only the Sichuan Jianghu but also the political landscape of the surrounding regions was about to unfold.
The dozens of peaks that made up Mount Meishan were already flooded with people from early morning. Countless individuals had staked out their spots from the break of dawn.
"Hey! Move aside! Can't you tell at a glance that this spot was reserved?"
"Are you talking to me?"
"I'm a martial artist too! Do you think wearing an eye patch makes you look impressive… Hmm? Those tiger stripes… No way?"
"Move. I'm only refraining from drawing my sword out of respect for the Ten Perfection Sect's leader."
"Lie down! Just lie down here!"
The crowd swelled like gathering storm clouds.
The mountain paths became packed to the brim. Not only were there armed martial artists, but large groups had also come from merchant guilds and escort agencies, and the number of common folk was beyond estimation.
Here and there, high-ranking officials draped in fine official robes sat under makeshift canopies along the cliffs.
All of them had gathered like an army arriving on a battlefield, thundering with noise. It was a spectacular sight, as if every walk of life had converged at this place beyond the Jianghu.
And then, noon arrived.