WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Chen
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◈ The Martial Genius who Remembers Everything ◈
Chapter 438: The Bird That Calls the Typhoon (3)
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Spring had arrived and the weather had improved, but a sudden downpour left the spectators shivering as a chill rose from within their bodies.
As soon as the martial arts tournament ended, the Taeul Sect and Wang Family Estate brought out blankets, lit braziers, and handed out liquor to warm everyone.
Taeul Hall, where the most important guests had gathered, was no exception.
Braziers filled with fresh charcoal were brought in, along with hot tea and liquor.
Of course, no one remaining in Taeul Hall was suffering from the cold.
Moyong Gang's hand naturally reached for a bottle of liquor.
“Kh...”
Even he, usually the one who led every conversation and talked the most, could not speak for some time.
Everyone gathered in the hall was the same.
What Jin Sowoon had shown in the final match was something those who revered martial arts and had trained their entire lives could not easily forget.
“Kh...”
After downing three cups in succession, Moyong Gang finally spoke.
“There was a reason the legend of the Taeul Sword Emperor lasted five hundred years.”
Until now, those rumors had been little more than mockery.
Yet after witnessing the Taeul Sword Emperor’s foundation anew, the connection between the two felt undeniable.
Namgung Taeha nodded in agreement.
“It truly was incredible. I never imagined the art had been refined to such a degree.”
Most long-established sects were like great trees.
Their branches spread from the most important trunk.
Those branches, in turn, influenced the trunk, causing its roots to drive deeper into the earth.
The longer that process continued, the more it became an immense tree that could not be shaken.
That was why a sect’s foundation grew in proportion to its age.
It was the same reason countless Buddhist martial sects throughout the martial world could never surpass Shaolin Sect.
“Mugang, what did you think?”
The question naturally turned to Hyeok Mugang.
“Do you think you could contend with the Taeul Sword Emperor?”
Only Hyeok Mugang was qualified to answer.
Most of those present had inherited roots that were already growing.
Hyeok Mugang alone had created his own roots.
“Contend with him...”
Hyeok Mugang let out a quiet sigh.
Silence followed for a long time.
In truth, that alone was practically an answer.
Still, the other three watched him and waited.
They wanted to hear the honest thoughts of the man who had created the unparalleled Hundred Flowers Sacred Spirit Sword Art and risen to become the greatest martial artist under heaven.
He carefully set down his cup.
“What Sowoon showed was truly extraordinary. But that, too, was an orthodox assault. To face the one who created that art and perfected it personally...”
His voice grew even more solemn.
As they listened, a vivid image formed in their minds.
The Hundred Flowers Sacred Spirit Sword Art and the Twin Heavens Sword Art facing one another.
On one side, chrysanthemum buds bloomed and scattered in every direction.
On the other, hundreds and thousands of transformations shifted without pause.
It would be a dazzling contest for supremacy.
Perhaps Hyeok Mugang saw the same scene in his mind.
A pure smile touched his lips as he turned his cup in his hand.
“Well, if I could face such a situation, I do not think I would have any lingering attachments to the martial world.”
“...”
“I would be too busy pouring every bit of my heart and strength into shattering it.”
It was the highest praise.
Hyeok Mugang was more exacting than anyone when judging martial arts.
Yet his words even carried a trace of longing for the Taeul Sword Emperor.
Of course, that was not a feeling unique to Hyeok Mugang, who had honed his own singular martial art.
Regardless of their positions in the martial world, everyone here had devoted their lives solely to martial arts.
They could not escape the nature of martial artists.
“I have never resented the gap of five hundred years this much. I cannot even meet him face-to-face and discuss sword principles.”
“That gap is rather large for you to say that.”
Moyong Gang's words shattered the mood, and a vein bulged on Hyeok Mugang's forehead.
“Of course, someone like you, who only knows how to fight, would not understand the lofty, pure essence of martial arts.”
“What? You bastard, have you lost your mind? I was the one who recognized the Taeul Sword Emperor’s martial arts and discovered Jin Sowoon in the first place!”
“That would have been proven eventually. You merely gained the opportunity because you wandered around everywhere and got lucky.”
As their argument threatened to flare up, Jegal Somyeong stepped in.
“Enough. What will people say if they see four old monsters of the martial world gathered together just to bicker?”
“...”
Naturally, Moyong Gang was not someone who would quiet down because he was told to.
“If old bastards like us stop talking about pointless things, what then? Are we supposed to climb into our coffins?”
Jegal Somyeong snapped open their fan as if cutting off Moyong Gang's shout.
After taking a moment to steady their breathing, they answered.
“We must open the future for those who remain.”
Their voice was firmer than ever.
“...”
Perhaps it was that unseasonable display of youthful vigor.
Moyong Gang clicked his tongue.
“Speak plainly. Do not sit back and play puppet master while keeping one foot out of it.”
Though rough, Moyong Gang had struck the heart of the matter.
Jegal Somyeong glared at him over the fan, and Moyong Gang did not yield.
After a long stare-down, Jegal Somyeong finally sighed.
“I have no intention of stepping back. If we move, I will be at the forefront.”
“There you go again, speaking in circles. People who live by brush and tongue always scheme to leave themselves an escape route. Tsk. What exactly are you trying to do?”
Provoked by Moyong Gang, Jegal Somyeong glared at him again and moved their lips.
They spoke clearly, as if making certain everyone heard.
“The dissolution of the Orthodox Society and the White Path Society.”
The hall froze.
Then.
“Has this old man gone senile?!”
Moyong Gang's horrified shout shattered the silence.
“?!”
But only for a moment.
As though the temperature had suddenly dropped, a cold silence settled over the hall again.
No one spoke. Only Jegal Somyeong lightly fanned themself.
“Wudang Sect and Mount Cang Sect will be in considerable trouble after this.”
Their plan had been completely ruined. They had tried to pressure the Taeul Sect indirectly and justify their own actions.
Now, those who had silently waited for Wudang Sect and Mount Cang Sect to reveal weaknesses would begin raising their heads one by one.
“You narrow-minded fool, do you even understand what you are saying? You are acting as though you have barely learned the Thousand Character Classic and are ready to sit for the civil-service examination.”
Jegal Somyeong tilted their head as if puzzled by Moyong Gang's mockery.
“Hmm? I finished the Thousand Character Classic and passed the civil-service examination.”
“Fuck!”
Moyong Gang grabbed the bottle and drank deeply.
He had already emptied two bottles.
“Why are you suddenly bringing up nonsense about dissolving the Orthodox Society and the White Path Society? Do not tell me... you have become so bored that you want to die?”
Over five hundred long years, the Orthodox Society and the White Path Society had become practically one body with the Martial Alliance.
Trying to separate them meant one of two things.
It meant abolishing the Martial Alliance, or...
“Do you really want to die?”
It meant offering up their lives.
“You are smart enough to know this. If they could have been dissolved just because they were shaken, they would have fallen apart long ago.”
“Even so, it must be done.”
“Then why?!”
Jegal Somyeong took a long breath.
Then.
“The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.”
At that one phrase, released with a long sigh, Moyong Gang stopped breathing.
“...!”
“They have exposed themselves.”
“...”
“This is not a matter of choice. We either do it...”
“Wait!”
Namgung Taeha raised a hand and cut them off.
“Wait, wait. Has that been confirmed?”
Jegal Somyeong slowly looked around the room, their gaze colder than ever.
“Do you think I would speak of the Demonic Cult without confirming it first?”
“...”
“I must have reviewed it a hundred times.”
Their words felt heavy, as if weights hung from the tip of their tongue.
“Wishing it was not true.”
For thirty years, Jegal Somyeong had borne the Martial Alliance on their shoulders. Their voice had never been so grave.
“I must have wished a thousand times that I had lost my mind. But in the end...”
Then, in a voice filled with more guilt than ever, they confirmed the despairing truth.
“It is certain. The Demonic Cult still exists. And... you all know what that means.”
“...”
The words spoken today would surely bring a storm of blood.
“Do not turn away from the truth before your eyes.”
A foul, nauseating storm of blood.
“They will not disappear just because we try to ignore them.”
Those gathered here would have to choose.
They would have to decide whose blood would make the rivers run.
All of them occupied positions that upheld the martial world. They were people who had to make such decisions.
“And the longer we delay, the damage will grow beyond measure.”
This was more than a responsibility.
It was a duty.
The duty of those who had become old powerhouses and ruled the martial world.
A duty heavier than any Mount Tai, deeper than any well.
“Are you certain?”
“Taeha, how long do you intend to deny reality?”
“No, that is not what I mean. We stopped them five hundred years ago. So must we really shed blood within the Martial Alliance?”
Namgung Taeha continued.
“I am not saying we should deny reality. We are larger and stronger than we were five hundred years ago. The number of sects founded since then exceeds the number that existed in the entire martial world back then.”
“...”
“There is no need to burn down a thatched cottage because of fleas.”
Jegal Somyeong's half-lidded eyes flew open.
“I will tell you only what is certain. Wugak of Qingcheng Sect, Hyeongjin of Kunlun Sect, Sogeol of the Beggar Sect, and Moyong Sangwon of the Moyong Clan. Attempts were made on all their lives, and several succeeded. Your son, Moyong Gang, encountered his benefactor.”
At the mention of Jin Sowoon and Moyong Sangwon, Moyong Gang's brow furrowed.
How harshly had he scolded his own son without even knowing who the other party was?
“After that, they targeted the Martial Arts Academy examinees at Puyang Plains. There were only twelve men involved at the time. As you know, those who caused a commotion in Yueyang were not the real Demonic Cult. Then the Blood Cult appeared in Sichuan, together with three Iron Zombies. In the Black Alliance, they disguised themselves as White Path martial artists and attempted to assassinate Dam Ak, and then...”
“Enough!”
Moyong Gang finally stopped them.
His voice was no longer as rough as before.
“Even that Namgung fellow understands what you mean. He is only asking whether there is another way.”
“...”
“Because no one knows how many lives will be lost if we carry out what you want.”
Jegal Somyeong slowly shook their head.
“Another way... There is no such thing.”
“No, do not say that so absolutely...”
“Would you like to hear something even more certain?”
“Something more certain?”
Everyone's attention turned to Jegal Somyeong.
Their calm voice settled over Taeul Hall.
“The longer we waste time, the greater the chance that the martial world itself will disappear.”
Moyong Gang's mouth fell open.
“Do you know why I said the martial world?”
“I do not particularly want to hear it.”
“Because those things do not distinguish between the White Path and the Black Path.”
“Damn it! I said I did not want to hear it!”
Moyong Gang struck the table, then emptied another bottle as if venting his anger.
Neither Jegal Somyeong nor Moyong Gang, nor anyone else, could easily swallow their rage. Hyeok Mugang quietly added his explanation.
“It is a prediction based on the remaining records of the Profound Mystery Pavilion, which was destroyed five hundred years ago. It may not be precise, but I hope you understand that it is not exaggerated.”
Once Hyeok Mugang added his words, the others had nothing left to say.
“Then... it cannot be avoided.”
A heavy sense of responsibility pressed down on their shoulders again.
“If we do not stain our hands with blood...”
They could clearly see their ruined future.
And over it appeared the innocent faces of the children, including Jin Sowoon.
“Our children’s blood will become a sea.”
No matter how much experience they had in the martial world, the despair they had never imagined was terrifying beyond measure.
“Countless mountains made from children’s corpses will rise.”
But they knew there was an even greater despair.
“So... it must be done.”
It was the duty of those who would leave first, for the sake of those who remained.
After a brief silence swept through the hall, Moyong Gang drained his cup and lamented.
“Kh... If I were younger, I would not have to worry about such headaches.”
Hyeok Mugang gave a bitter smile.
“What can we do? When has fate ever moved according to our wishes?”
The most perilous secret passed between the four of them.
“I have one request.”
Jegal Somyeong's expression hardened.
“Under no circumstances can this secret leak before our preparations are complete.”
“Hah, who do you take us for, fools?”
If word spread that Hyeok Mugang and Jegal Somyeong were involved in this secret together, the Martial Alliance would be torn to pieces as surely as fire was hot.
“...”
It was a conversation they could have only because they had met by chance at the Taeul Sect, rather than within the Martial Alliance.
Then.
“Ahem.”
Hong Mungi, Sect Leader of the Taeul Sect and host of Taeul Hall, had heard every word of this important, secret conversation.
“Um...”
He could not understand why such an important discussion was taking place in front of him.
“Hm? Do you have a different opinion?”
Jegal Somyeong's question made Hong Mungi think for a moment before shaking his head.
“No.”
Asking why they were telling him this would make him look too foolish in this atmosphere.
Hong Mungi nodded more seriously than ever.
“I agree as well.”
“The Taeul Sect Leader agrees too.”
At Jegal Somyeong's words, the other three great figures nodded as well.
“As expected, someone who can wait for the right time and see far ahead is different. If my son were half the man the Taeul Sect Leader is, I would have given him the position of Clan Head.”
“...”
That was what they said, but Hong Mungi still could not understand.
Why was he hearing this conversation among them?
Instead, he could only think of his clever and intelligent Head Disciple, Jin Sowoon.
‘Save me, you brat!’
He had completely forgotten his resentment at being unable to participate in the martial arts tournament because of Jin Sowoon.
Footnotes:
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