Book 2 Chapter 5

Swordsman of Flame, Yeomdo

He hastened his pace and continued to cover the distance to Nanchang.

I was reducing it.

The sun was now hanging halfway down the horizon, casting a reddish sunset and foreshadowing the darkness of the night.

It looks like the curtain of night is about to fall on the stage.

Soon a black silk curtain was drawn and darkness fell.

The fallen black silk was demanding that they rest.

Until man had the courage to defy the great forces of nature, he had little choice but to listen to her. This was especially true if she was leading a large herd. Our final destination for the day was Zhuzhou, a town on the outskirts of Hunan province. It's a medium-sized, bustling city, located just below Changsha, a large city bordering Dongzheng Lake, and just a short drive away from the border of Jiangxi Province, where Nanchang is located. Zhuzhou was a town located near the border of Hunan and Jiangxi provinces.

"Whoa, everyone stop. We're going to rest here for the day."

Zhang Wuyang stopped his horse in front of a restaurant and told everyone. The name of the inn was Hua Yun Lu. It was a fairly large lodging establishment that offered both food and lodging. Seeing that a group of people had stopped in front of the inn, a young man who looked to be about 15 years old guarding the door ran inside to deliver the message. A few moments later, a chubby old man, dressed in a matching blue silk robe with quite colorful patterns, and with a moderately fleshy face, hurried out. He looked to be in his late 40s. Call me prejudiced, but he looked like a perfect match for the owner of the restaurant. He seemed to be the owner of this Hua Yun Lu.

"Oh, no. Mr. Zhang, welcome home. It's been a long time since I've seen you."

"It's me, Daein, long time no see. I hope you got the message?"

"Yes, sir, of course. The communication from your home country was well received, and I've made sure that we have enough food for sixty people, sleeping quarters for sixty people, and warehouse number two is completely empty."

I, the master of Hua Yun Lu, replied, and then smiled broadly.

"We've had a lot of customers today, and we had to turn a few people away to make room for 60."

"Thank you."

Zhang Wuyang nodded and made a sign of satisfaction. When a marksman traveled on the road carrying marks, there would be roads and villages that he often passed through. Since they were stopping to rest, there would be regular restaurants. When they stopped in a town, they would unpack and rest at a certain lodging house, and they would be treated much better and pay a much lower price. Since traveling involves a significant number of people at once, the size of a lodging house is naturally large.

In a bustling city, organizing accommodation for 60+ people at once is no easy task. There's always a chance that all the rooms at a hotel will be full or there won't be enough. What's more, if there weren't enough rooms, we couldn't just spread the group out. Spreading out the group means less security and more risk for the marks. Therefore, we would choose one specific location and make a contract with them to do business. This was one of those places.

Of course, unless you're a god, you don't know when you're going to be staying, so you send a message first to make an appointment through a contact center you've established in a busy city, a contact you've planted, or an informant. In the most sophisticated countries, they even use telegraphs to communicate with each other. The method used by the Zhongyang dynasty was to send messages through vanguards or contacts.

"Good. Marks to warehouse two, and all but the three guards on duty are to go to the mess hall for dinner and rest!"

"Yes."

All the marksmen roared back. Apparently, the marksmen don't realize that shouting in the middle of the village is a disturbing behavior. At the command of the head of state, Zhang Wuyang, the marksmen began to bustle about. The luggage was moved to warehouse number two, the horses were unhitched and left in the stables to rest, and sentries were set up in their appointed order.

While everyone else was working hard and diligently, Bi Ryuyeon was the first to enter the restaurant with Zhang Wuyang, and they were seated and waiting for a delicious dinner. Ryuyeon still didn't do much work.

It's evening, the busiest time of the day, and the restaurant, which should be lively and noisy at this time of day, is not. A heavy, uncomfortable air of silence hangs over the place. The store was packed with over 100 people, but it was strangely quiet. Everyone was either silent or communicating in whispers. The air was suffocating, like a taut string threatening to burst. All of this was caused by a single presence. The presence of a man brought a beautiful sense of calm, stillness, and silence to what should have been the most tumultuous and energetic time.

The second floor of the restaurant was shaped like a square with a hollow center, with a railing overlooking the first floor. Oddly enough, the third floor of Hua Yun Lu was exactly the same as the second. Bi Ryuyeon was sitting by the window on the first floor waiting for her food, and the man was also sitting on the first floor, holding his food. His position was almost in the center of the room on the first floor. Bi Ryuyeon and Zhang Wuyang were also looking at the man, shyly.

He was a man in his mid-forties with a very unusual appearance. He had flame-like hair, dark sunset eyebrows, and a wild red beard. He was dressed in a red robe and carried a sword in an unusually shaped scabbard at his waist. Except for his two pupils, the man's entire body was red, reminiscent of a blazing fire. He was so unusual that he could have been thrown into the middle of a crowded Beijing market and been instantly recognized.

The majestic red-colored foliage exudes a powerful aura that overwhelms others, adding to its majesty. This is what it means to be a master. The sense of power and presence he exuded was truly remarkable.

Bi Ryuyeon looked at him in amusement, while Zhang Wuyang, sitting across from him, looked at him with eyes that were deeply troubled by the conflict. Zhang Wuyang knew who the man was; it made no sense to not know a master with such an unusual and distinctive appearance. His distinctive red hair, red eyebrows, and red beard were testament to the fact that he had cultivated a certain martial art to near polarity. So it wasn't just Zhang Wuyang who knew the man, but almost everyone else in the restaurant, including the representative of the Zhongyang Bureau of Marks. That's why this heavy, stifling silence was possible.

He was one of the five most famous swordsmen in Jianghu. It was unthinkable for Zhang Wuyang to not know the man who was called the Crimson Flame Blade, the number one swordsman in Sichuan. He was probably the only one here who didn't know him properly. The question Zhang Wuyang was seriously pondering right now was whether or not he should go over and greet him. Under normal circumstances, she would have walked up to him and said hello.

Today, however, things didn't look so good, and he sat with an air of intimidation about him, scowling even more harshly than before, as if his judgment had been twisted. His aura of precariousness, as if he could burst at the seams, overwhelmed everyone in the room, forcing them to sit in silence, unable to make a sound, their minds narrowed by anxiety.

That's why Zhang Wuyang was restless. The man was widely known to have a bad temper, so she didn't know what she would get if she spoke to him. If she didn't say hello, she might get into a fight with him, and if she didn't say hello, she might stumble over it later, so Zhang Wuyang was waiting for an opportunity.

Bi Ryuyeon's eyes suddenly began to shine with a mischievous gleam as he looked back and forth between the man and Zhang Wuyang, who was finding him difficult. At the same time, his face was filled with a fresh and resilient vitality that seemed to fly. He seemed to be unaffected by the atmosphere around him. He was, after all, a Bi Ryuyeon who had built a wall against the emotions of 'tension' and 'seriousness'. I don't know what made her so happy, but she bounced up from her seat with a big smile on her face.

"No, Confucius. What happened?"

Zhang Wuyang, stunned by Bi Ryuyeon's sudden action of getting up from her seat, asked with a puzzled look in her eyes.

"Oh, me? I need to use the restroom for a minute."

With a slight smile on her face, she said. With an unnecessary call to the restroom, Bi Ryuyeon rose from her seat and disappeared out the door of the restaurant. In Zhang Wuyang's eyes, he seemed to melt into the darkness.

When Zhang Wugang, the minor head of the Zhongyang Sword Sect and a promising talent of the Great Blue Sword Sect, entered the restaurant with his vice head, Deng Yeho, on business, there was not a single empty seat in the restaurant. When the deputy head of the family, Ryuyeonchang, had just finished negotiating the price of lodging with the proprietor of Hua Yun Lu, a favorite guest house of the shareholders, and was about to turn around, he bumped into Zhang Wukang, who was returning from an errand in the back, and they entered the restaurant together.

But there's a problem. They had just walked into the restaurant and found that all the seats were taken, and there was no room for them. It's strange to say the least, however, that a restaurant so packed with people that there's not a single seat left is strangely quiet, but that doesn't mean the owner, Mr. Na, didn't make a mistake. The owner of Hua Yun Lu had reserved 60 seats exactly as the Zhongyang Bureau's liaison had booked them. The Zhongyang Bureau had 15 round tables for four people, or 60 seats if you do the math.

The culprits were Zhang Wuyang and Bi Ryuyeon. They were eating at the same table. Zhang Wugang had always eaten at a different table, far away from Zhang Wuyang and Bi Ryuyeon, with the vice head of the family, Deng Xiaoping. This was because the atmosphere between Zhang Wugang and Bi Ryuyeon was very bad. Zhang Wugang's grievances against Bi Ryuyeon were dangerous, like a ticking bomb.

The magnitude of the discontent and hatred was impossible to measure, but it was enough to make Zhang Wuyang feel that it was "one step away from hatred," which is why he had his son dine at a place away from Bi Ryuyeon.

Today, however, Hua Yun Lu's business fortunes were good, and all the seats were full. Deng Xiaoping and Zhang Wugang thought about sharing a table, but there was no room left in the restaurant. They began to look around the restaurant to see if there was any room left for them to sit together. And then they saw it. No, they could not help but see him. No, it would be more accurate to say that he was visible. Of course, they knew exactly who he was.

Even in the land of Sichuan, the region of the Waho Jiaolong, where all of the Wuling forces were concentrated, he was a top thief. Of course, most of the martial forces in Sichuan emphasized swords and horsemanship over swords. But he was an exception. There was no person or force in Sichuan that ignored or neglected him. He was a force to be reckoned with.

No one dared to approach the red-haired man. It was clear that the table was trying to stay as far away from him as possible; the circular, empty space with a radius of two sheets centered on his table made that clear.

While Deng Xiaohu and Zhang Wugang stared with all their attention at the man in red, the number one thief in Sichuan, the salaried marksmen of the Zhongyang Marks Bureau were in an awkward position. It was very uncomfortable for them to see the small king standing there with no place for them to sit-with Deng Ye-ho, the deputy head of the marks. It was not a comfortable life for a marksman to be in the public eye.

It's the little things that can get you in trouble with your boss. There's an old adage: "Crawl on your own two feet!". It means that if you're part of a group, you should always have a base that can read the minds and behaviors of others and be proactive in dealing with situations. The deputies exchanged sharp glances, looking for a scapegoat. Who would stand up and give way to the Minority Leader and Deputy Minority Leader?

Who would lift them out of this quagmire? To do so, they needed a willing sacrifice on the altar. And so the deferral of responsibility continued for a moment. With eyes full of roaring flames, the representatives exchanged glances and engaged in a fiery joust of nerves.

At this time, something happened that no one could have predicted. Everyone's hearts were doused with ice-cold water loaded with ultrasonic vibrators, which made people's chests tighten, their hearts race, and their livers turn to mush.

"Wedgie!"

"Boom!"

With a sound that tore through the air, a flagpole flew down and slammed into the man's table with a harsh crash. The flagpole was conical in shape and pointed at the end, and the very tip pierced the table of the man with the red hair and beard and smashed into the floor. The angle of the flagpole's impact with the table indicated that it must have flown through the roof. It flew through the roof, lightly pierced the table, and with the momentum of its force, the tip pierced the floor. The impact sent the food on the table flying into the air, upending it and rendering it unusable.

Just then - just as the plates and glasses were about to spill - the red-headed man slammed his palm down on the table. The table clattered, and the food that had been tipped over in mid-air landed back on the table as if nothing had happened. There was no shattering of porcelain plates. There was no clatter on landing. It was a light, but subtle trick. The top half of the flagpole, which had flown through the roof, had a red flag curled around it, but the impact of piercing the table had caused it to unravel, revealing itself in full view of everyone in the restaurant.

Everyone's eyes grew as big as fire lamps. Mouths were wide open, with enough room for a fist. The moment the flag's identity was confirmed, an unidentifiable gasp - like the sound of a heart stopping - erupted here and there, followed by endless silence. It was red, with a lotus flower, a sword, and the character "Zhong" in the center, unmistakably the mark of the Zhongyang State. It was a clear provocation and challenge to their opponents.

"No, no, no, this… this can't be happening."

Zhang Wugang shouted, forcing his words to stutter through clashing teeth. But no one listened to his cries, which were thick with excuses to avoid responsibility. It was just a meaningless gesture. The air in Zhang's intestines became as cold as the air at the top of the Tianshan Mountains. Symptoms of "group contraction" and "elevated blood pressure" caused by increased heart rate began to occur simultaneously among the patrons in the restaurant. Along with them, the complexions of the Zhongyang people, who occupied most of the seats in the restaurant, turned white.

The Red Man was first silent. The silence became an unspoken megalith, crushing people's heads. Next came a fiery flesh that seemed to explode, a hot flesh that enveloped the entire establishment in an instant: rage. At the center of that fury was a man with blood-red hair, beard, and eyebrows.

Yeomdo (焰刀)!

The people of Jianghu called him Yidao-the Blade of Flame-with a mixture of fear and reverence. His presence in the Jianghu clan was unique. If someone who was the number one swordsman in Sichuan and the strongest among the Hundred Great Adepts, who were said to be as numerous as the stars in the sky, was not special, then who was?

It's not clear exactly what his ranking was, but it's clear that he wasn't last. Since it was as rare as the stars in the sky for these proclaimed masters to go head-to-head, people could only estimate their rankings based on known facts and the testimony of eyewitnesses and witnesses.

In fact, the list of the top 100 masters is not accurate because it is a collection of only known people. It is said that there are an infinite number of masters and former masters in the world, but people like to rank them, so they created the so-called top 100 masters based on known people. The number one hundred is not a big number when it comes to powerhouses, or even masters. Rather, it's an extremely small number. The number of masters in the Heavenly Martial Hall, the skyscrapers, and the major masters of the White Dao Martial League and the Black Blooded Martial League, the Black Blooded Martial League, could easily be counted as a hundred.

In these four organizations, where the might of the mighty was said to have been gathered, the number of people known as super masters alone was said to be over a hundred and a little under two hundred. Add to that the heads of the nine major sects and the five major families, and the heads of the realm, and you've got a pretty good idea of the magnitude of the Hundred Great Adepts.

The fact that his hair, beard, and eyebrows were all fiery red meant that the level of his highly regarded Fire Spirit Divine Skill, which was the foundation of his monomania and made him one of the Hundred Great Masters, had reached near-polarity.

Sword energy!

It's a unique qi and technique that he wields, called the salt sword in Kang Ho. The people of Kang Ho wondered why it was called "sword" when it was obvious that he was using dao. However, when they were told that the name was the original name of the sword, and that it was used in accordance with tradition, Chen Guan, the second smartest person in Jianghu, made the following conjecture.

"It is very likely, then, that originally his monologue, the Crimson Seventy-Seven, was a sword method, not a dao method. However, as it was passed down through the generations, it may have been decided that a sword method that emphasized sophistication and change was not appropriate for a spirit religion that strived for dominance and extreme power, and so it was changed to a sword method that emphasized power and strength over change. It is speculated that the Sword Flame Qi was probably named when the Crimson Seventeen Flames were a sword method, not a tao method."

His erudition and high credibility added weight to the argument, and the power players nodded in agreement. And his speculation became an orthodoxy. In response, Yin Dao is said to have remained silent, unwilling to take a stand. The nameless jokester's claim that he had become a sword spirit simply because sword spirit sounded better than dao spirit had been dismissed with countless sneers and buried without a trace. Everyone thought that such a thing could not be possible.

In any case, the much-talked-about Sword Flame Qi, also known as Sword Flame Qi, is a peculiar kind of qi that arises from the study of Fire Spirit Divinity, and is said to contain extreme firepower, causing flesh to burn when touched and the entire body to burn when slashed. It is a type of sword energy that is generated by the power and aftermath of the True Crimson Seventeen Flames, a sword technique that was created as an extension of his self-taught Hua Rong Shin Gong. Even if you block a downward blow, the sword energy contained in the sword will bend through the opponent's sword and strike the opponent's arm. His monologue, the Crimson Seventy-Seven Flames, was a formidable dao that was ranked among the five peak dao in the Martial Realm. However, even with such a great martial art, he was still estimated to be no higher than the 50th rank.

His divine techniques were not sophisticated, swift, or fantastic enough to support his powerful divine attacks and devastatingly powerful sword techniques. This was his weakness, his jade tie. The speed of his movements, especially his footwork, was too slow for his martial arts. His Divine Method was sorely lacking in rushing power, which was most necessary for a particularly sweeping method. If the Divine Law could not keep up with the Divine Gong and the Dao Law, it was inevitable that the skill of the Sun God would be devalued.

However, no matter how weak the Divine Law was, it was only in relation to the standards of super peak masters, not above average, and it didn't change the fact that he was strong, that he was a Hundred Great Masters. He was a master of the Sword Law and Divine Gong. Those two things alone were enough to qualify him as one of the strongest Hundred Great Adepts.

As one of the hundred most honored and powerful masters, he had one unwritten rule. Whether you were a member of the martial arts, a commoner, or a royal minister, you were required to observe his rules in front of him, regardless of whether you were black or white. He was a man of the middle ground, but he was unforgiving in this regard. There is no known example of anyone who failed to observe his taboos being safe.

He was feared by many because of his unruly personality, even though he was not a black man. Due to his poor upbringing, he never learned the word forbearance and was unable to practice this one short word: patience. Later, in a better educational environment, he tried to teach patience with the character forbearance, but it was too late. It was a good example of the saying that three-year-old habits die hard and temper tantrums stay in the will.

People were terrified by his temper, which could turn invisible when he was angry, and his rough and rugged appearance in red, red salt, and red rice combined to multiply their fear and dread of him. One of the Black Blood Clan's action squads, the Black Tiger Clan's leader, Extreme Sword Gadanan, who had previously been holding a sword in front of Yeomdo as if he knew a bit about swords, was killed by Yeomdo's blow, It was a particularly famous anecdote that he was struck with the mourning red flame like a meat bandit on a skewer, and then burned to a crisp like a badly timed fish on a wood fire. Eyewitnesses at the time unanimously testify that the crimson flames first burned the clothes around the piercings, and then spread to the entire body of Gadanan in a matter of hours.

It is said that the body of the formerly healthy man was nowhere to be found, and there was nothing left but a charred mass of meat. At that time, when he had gained a certain reputation for the Tao and was rising to prominence, he drew his sword in front of the sword of salt and pretended to know what the Tao was and what it was not, and was struck down by the sword of salt and passed on to the other world.

This anecdote is made even more famous by the fact that the Black Sword Martial League, of which Gadanan was a member, remained silent and refused to hold him accountable. His presence was a big deal. A story that became even more famous after this incident is "Whenever Fenghui's eyes turn red, the surrounding landscape is bathed in a blood-red sunset glow."

When we say blood-red sunset light, many people think of human blood splattered all over the place, but this is a great misconception. His martial art is a martial art of extreme fire, and even a handful of human blood can be burned to ashes. Therefore, his martial art is surprisingly bloodless. When the body is slashed by the sword qi of Yan Dao, the wound is burned by the powerful fire within it. Therefore, when a limb is cut off, the blood vessels are clogged by the high heat and no blood flows.

A blood-red sunset is when an opponent's body is on fire and the flames make everything around them appear red. The only part of his face that was white were his eyes, but one of the characteristics of the yidao was that when the flames reached the top of the artist's head, the eyes became bloodshot, and even the eyelids turned red. Eyewitnesses consistently testified that his appearance, which included red hair, red eyes, and red skin, was as terrifying and grotesque as a hellish sura.

Red, red, red, red, and more red. And red clothes, red swords, and blood. It's definitely a grotesque look, even if you try not to be grotesque. But fortunately, he wasn't yet in the final state of red-eye.

He swore he wasn't in the mood to approach Yan Dao, the embodiment of anger and flame, to greet and converse with him now, but he couldn't help but do it now. Moreover, the banner on his table was unmistakably the Lotus Sword Flag of the Zhongyang Clan! Liu Bei and Zhang Wugang began to furiously contemplate how to deal with this surprising and terrible situation. There was no way they were going to use force where the outcome was so clear-cut. It was agreed that the matter should be settled by conversation, and so, after exchanging a glance, they gathered their courage and approached Yan Dao. The fact that his eyes were not yet red-eyed was the only thing that gave him the courage he needed.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been right for Zhang Wuyang to rush over and bow down to Yin Dao and apologize. But right now, Zhang Wuyang was at a loss as to how to deal with this sudden and surprising turn of events, so he and Zhang Wugang went first. If they made a mistake, there would be an inevitable fight, and the Zhongyang Bureau would not be the only one to suffer. If they made a mistake, they might be destroyed. Yeomdo was more than capable and skilled enough. Those who were considered to possess the power of the first gate were the great masters.

The water was already spilled, but they had to make a show of picking it up. Swallowing hard, Zhang Wugang and Deng Yuhao cautiously approached the dangerous man known as Yeomdo. Their hearts were as taut as the strings of a pipa, half a second away from breaking.

At that moment, there was a person with dozens of drops of cold sweat on his forehead who was cautiously approaching the two with an amused and excited look in his eyes. His name was Bi Ryuyeon, who was currently 20 years old, had a face like a dog, and was currently stuck on the Zhongyang Railway Station's Nankang-bound ticket line. His current location was near the railing on the third floor of Hua Yun Lu.

There, he stuck his head out and watched the situation with interest. No one knew why he was on the third floor when he had obviously gone out the door on the first floor to take care of business. Only the tip of a mischievous crescent-shaped smile hanging from the corner of his mouth foreshadowed the ominous things that were to come.