Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 145 - The Way of Demons Spreads
Chapter 145 – The Way of Demons Spreads
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Translated by Heavenly Cat
Edited by Celestial Knight
Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net
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Yellow sunlight streamed in.
“Brother Ok, wake up already! Good grief. Ever since you got eliminated, you just drink every day.”
“Mmm…”
At his cousin’s nagging, Hwangbo Ok scratched his head and cracked open his bleary eyes.
A so-so participant who’d been eliminated around the Round of 32 or so. Far from making a name for himself, he’d only received some cheers before leaving. He was from the Seven Sects and Three Families, but no invitations came from anywhere, and he’d only been called to a few gatherings of rising stars.
But he felt no despair.
Hwangbo Ok stretched out his limbs lazily on the bed, trembling ridiculously to finish his stretch.
Then he let out a carefree sigh and smacked his lips. Truly the appearance of a man with nothing to do.
‘Feels good now that it’s over.’
The Ascending Dragon Assembly had been a pressure weighing on him for a long time. Was this how scholars felt after taking the civil service exam?
In any case, for someone from a branch line of the Seven Sects and Three Families to make it to the Round of 32, he’d performed above expectations.
‘Won’t the family at least give me an escort agency?’
Setting up one escort agency for an outstanding family member would be nothing for the great Hwangbo family.
He’d taken the test on his twenty-odd years of martial training, and his score wasn’t bad.
“Brother Ok! Please wake up! The other brothers are already up having breakfast! What were you doing to wake up so late?”
At his cousin’s nagging, Hwangbo Ok grumbled as he opened the door and came out.
“All right, all right. Tch, don’t you understand this brother’s heart is aching from being eliminated at the Ascending Dragon Assembly.”
“I know you were partying with young masters and ladies from branch families and famous clans last night, you think I don’t know?”
“Mm, by the way, why did everyone wake up so early this morning?”
“Are you asking because you don’t know? Today is the awards ceremony. The Ascending Dragon Assembly awards ceremony.”
“Mmm…”
Hwangbo Ok felt a bittersweet taste and licked his lips. The Ascending Dragon Assembly’s champion was someone he knew well.
‘I never thought that guy would win.’
Curious, he asked.
“But does everyone usually attend the awards ceremony like this? I’ll go since the champion is someone I know, but you all should be out having fun at this hour.”
The awards ceremony was neither interesting to watch nor good for one’s ego, so rising stars usually avoided it. Having a parent accompany you there meant getting compared.
His cousin shook his head.
“Didn’t the Martial Alliance Leader order all martial artists in Anqing to attend today’s awards ceremony? If we loaf around here and get spotted by someone, we’ll be in trouble.”
“The Martial Alliance Leader’s order, huh.”
“Yes. The Martial Alliance Leader’s order. You must have forgotten while guzzling alcohol.”
A Martial Alliance Leader’s order wasn’t written in the Great Ming Code, and you wouldn’t get arrested for disobeying.
However, the Martial Alliance Leader was a representative appointed by the martial world’s leaders. Thus, he held authority equal to or higher than the sect leaders of the Seven Sects and Three Families.
Disobeying the Martial Alliance Leader’s order was the same as ignoring the authority of the sect leaders or family heads.
It meant becoming a publicly recognized bastard in jianghu.
No matter how chaotic jianghu was, everyone hated bastards. A simple reason to follow the Martial Alliance Leader’s order.
“I’ll go. Let me get ready first.”
* * *
“Whoa…”
Hwangbo Ok exclaimed blankly. It was like a marketplace.
Every martial artist in Anqing had gathered, plus commoners had also come in droves to see Ju-seong, who’d been particularly popular.
In fact, commoners seemed to make up more than sixty percent.
A young martial artist promising enough to win the Ascending Dragon Assembly, yet without a sect or backing.
Every merchant, magnate, and powerbroker in the Central Plains would be drooling.
At this ceremony, participants up to the quarterfinals would all receive commendations and prizes, but the star of this occasion was undoubtedly that man in the green changpo.
‘Is that really the same person who beat me up like a thug a few months ago?’
Hwangbo Ok blankly stroked his cheek.
He’d gotten somewhat close traveling together to Anqing, but there’d been no contact since.
Hwangbo Ok had been living inside the Martial Alliance the whole time, and they’d all been busy training.
Suddenly, Ju-seong in his green changpo spotted Hwangbo Ok and waved vigorously.
‘No, no, don’t.’
Hwangbo Ok was startled and tried to hide, but alas, the Hwangbo bloodline had given him a frame unsuitable for concealment.
Ju-seong’s voice rang out powerfully.
“Hwangbo Ok! Hey! It’s been a while, you bastard!”
Countless gazes instantly focused on Hwangbo Ok. Having no choice, he sighed and waved back.
“Y-yeah! Congratulations!”
He felt countless stares drilling into his back and foresaw a tiring day ahead.
‘At least five people will follow me around asking for an introduction.’
The Ascending Dragon Assembly champion who holed up with close friends and refused to come out of inns… and he was the first to greet someone?
Well, that’s quite the catch.
A portly man in silk clothes sidled up to Hwangbo Ok and was about to say something when, mercifully, the awards ceremony began.
When the Martial Alliance Leader stood, people shut their mouths.
That was just how it was, a kind of rule.
After all, when a seven-foot-tall giant with a blade the size of a grown man was glaring from up there, anyone’s mouth would close.
The Martial Alliance Leader was a man with the talent of infecting others with his solemnity.
In the solemn atmosphere, the Martial Alliance Leader slowly began the commendations and awards.
“From Guangdong, Cho Yu-gyeong. From Henan, Hong Chil. From Zhongnan, Jang-yang. From Shanxi, Hwangbo Chi-seung. Step forward.”
Starting with Cho Yu-gyeong, Red Beggar, a Zhongnan disciple, and Fat Fist.
Newly reminded that Red Beggar’s real name was Hong Chil, and Fat Fist’s real name was Hwangbo Chi-seung.
As quarterfinalists, they received gold along with the right to select a B-grade martial art from the Grand Repository.
The next two called were semifinalist losers.
“Mount Hua Sect’s Jang Hwa-rin, Wudang Sect’s Cheon-su. Step forward.”
In addition to the previous participants’ rewards, they could select one B-grade or lower unprocessed elixir from the Martial Alliance’s Elixir Repository.
If they wanted prepared pills, they had to choose C-grade or lower.
B-grade might seem modest, but A-grade elixirs included things like the inner core of a ten-thousand-year fire carp.
This meant giving the best items within reasonable bounds.
‘By the way, Jang Hwa-rin looks half his former self.’
Hwangbo Ok examined Jang Hwa-rin, who’d lost so much weight he looked like he’d blow away in the wind. He was weak enough now that even Hwangbo Ok felt he could take him.
‘What the hell did Ju-seong do to break his mind that badly?’
Next called was Shaolin Temple’s Won-gong.
Unlike the quarterfinal participants, he received A-grade elixir selection rights. Eligibility to consume an elixir that would cause a bloodbath across at least an entire province if thrown into jianghu.
“Next… the Ascending Dragon Assembly champion. Ju-seong from Sichuan Province. Step forward.”
The Martial Alliance Leader carefully examined Ju-seong, who’d come forward amid cheers, then spoke.
“You demonstrated not only formidable skill but also brilliant wit. I hereby award a sum of gold, B-grade or lower martial art selection from the Grand Repository, elixir selection from the A-grade Elixir Repository, and one bar of Myriad-Year Cold Iron.”
In addition to all the rewards given to lower-ranked participants, Ju-seong received one bar of Myriad-Year Cold Iron.
The other rewards would be given later, but the one bar of Myriad-Year Cold Iron was ceremonially presented before the spectators.
Hwangbo Ok soon understood why. He murmured, mouth agape.
“Amazing… such a white metal exists.”
* * *
Ju-seong unknowingly gulped at the object presented before him.
Myriad-Year Cold Iron.
By name it sounded related to cold iron, but Myriad-Year Cold Iron was an entirely different metal.
Some said that when stars fell from the night sky and absorbed cold energy for millennia, they became Myriad-Year Cold Iron.
One bar was a considerable amount, but surprisingly compact in volume… small enough to hold in one hand.
After storing it away, Ju-seong briefly exchanged glances with the Martial Alliance Leader, then turned around.
The Martial Alliance Leader spoke.
“We shall now hear the champion’s reflections.”
Ju-seong stood uncertainly for a moment, surveying the gazes focused on him one by one. Once again…
‘This performer has come a long way.’
Ju-seong never forgot that he was a performer who’d roamed the bottom of Fujian Province. A life that would have rolled like a fallen leaf and ended as a stone cairn by the roadside.
Forever, he had no intention of forgetting what jianghu looked like when viewed from the very bottom.
He thought now was the time to speak not as the Ascending Dragon Assembly champion, but as a common man.
Ju-seong offered a fist salute and spoke.
“Fellow martial artists… I shall say a word to those who came to see my unremarkable face.”
He drew a deep breath, then lowered his fist salute and shifted to a casual posture.
“All martial artists are gangsters.”
The sudden statement set the spectator stands buzzing. Immediately, the Martial Alliance Leader’s calm transmission pierced Ju-seong’s ear.
[Are you insane?]
[No, Martial Alliance Leader. I haven’t forgotten my instructions, so please bear with me.]
At his answer, the Martial Alliance Leader sighed and raised his hand to calm the Martial Alliance Leader’s Office and other Martial Alliance officials.
Ju-seong fidgeted with his belt and continued.
“All gangsters. Isn’t that right? We make a living from skills with blades, and if we’re not soldiers, that makes us gangsters…”
The spectators buzzed. Several martial artists roared with indignation.
“You wretch! The history of Central Plains’ jianghu spans millennia… were you born without parents?!”
“You call the martial arts you learned a gangster’s tricks?! Spouting such nonsense at the heart of the Martial Alliance!”
Meanwhile, the commoners who didn’t practice martial arts listened curiously since the words weren’t attacking them.
Ju-seong answered calmly.
“My parents are gone. Thanks for the reminder. Now, now, hear me out… We gangsters have our own code. Do you know what it is?”
When he revealed he was an orphan, the martial artist who’d shouted was now receiving side-eyes from those around him and shrank back. He seemed to mouth ‘sorry.’
Ju-seong continued in a subdued atmosphere.
“We don’t touch those who haven’t learned martial arts. When we fight, we fight only among ourselves.”
The crowd’s fervor had cooled. Ju-seong’s speech pattern and gestures naturally carried the cadence of a medicine peddler, with a peculiar knack for holding attention.
Ju-seong extended his fingers one by one. “Follow this well and you’re orthodox. Follow it sometimes and sometimes not… subtly making life hard for commoners… and that makes you one of those Jiangnan evil path bastards. That’s how I see it.”
Of course, the distinction between righteous and evil path required digging deep into the origins of martial arts from the distant past, but that wasn’t what Ju-seong was talking about now.
Ju-seong extended a third finger and spoke.
“But there’s a third category… those who don’t see humans as human. Those who view human lives as mere lumps of meat, elixirs, or playthings. Long ago, we called them the Cradle of the Demonic Path.”
A chill ran down the spectators’ spines. Why did that ancient, forgotten word sound so ominous?
Was it because the storyteller spoke so well? Or had they subconsciously sensed the dark, unpleasant hand reaching for their peaceful lives from beyond the horizon?
Right on cue, pale clouds covered the sun, casting dark shadows all around.
In the darkness, Ju-seong’s settled eyes glowed with an eerie crimson light.
“Fellow martial artists… I declare with a heavy heart. The Cradle of the Demonic Path spreads again across the Central Plains. Wearing the mask of a sect familiar to all of us.”