Longevity - Chapter 32

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 32: The Pursuers Arrive
All four leaders of the factions that had concealed themselves in darkness now revealed their presence. Batu held the handle of the Wooden Chest as he glanced back at Na Yangja.
Only four had stepped forward. The scent of their followers lingered in the Northern Forest, Western Slope, Northeastern Forest, and South—and there was no gap through which his party might slip away.

“Master, they’re all masters. Even the weakest among them possesses blue Spirit Energy.”

Jang Saeng didn’t know how Batu had discerned their levels at a glance. He simply recalled the nine stages of Spirit Energy cultivation that Jin Ipchu had once explained to him.
Refine Essence into Qi

had three lower realms: Dong Shen

realm, Gao Xuan

realm, and Sheng Xuan

realm. The Spirit Energy deepened in hue from pale red to red to dark red.
Refine Qi into Spirit

had three middle realms: Dong Xuan

realm, San Dong

realm, and Da Dong

realm. The three stages’ Spirit Energy bore pale blue, blue, and dark blue in succession.
Refine Spirit and Return to Void

had three upper realms: Ju Shan

realm, Dong Yuan

realm, and Tai Xuan

realm. Their hierarchy was distinguished by pale violet, violet, and dark violet.
If even the weakest among them possessed blue Spirit Energy, they were all masters of the middle tier or higher. Batu, the strongest of the four brothers, still lingered at the Dong Shen realm.
A single one of them could be several stages above Batu. Yet there were four of them, dividing the four directions around his party to block their passage.
Jang Saeng pressed the Black Wooden Box hidden in his robe. When Na Yangja raised his hand in a gesture, Batu closed his mouth, though he didn’t loosen his grip.
The nun who had been hiding in the Northern Forest descended first. Her crimson robes cut through the moonlight, and her feet touched the ground without rustling a single leaf.
With the moon hanging high, Jang Saeng—untrained in Spirit Energy—could nevertheless see her face. Her frame, descending with such lightness, made no sound despite her considerable height.
She appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Her stature matched that of a stout man, and her full figure was draped in crimson robes adorned with golden cloud-pattern embroidery.
Her features were fair, yet the smile playing at the corners of her eyes and mouth seemed unbecoming of one who had renounced the world. One shoulder was laid bare above the loosely worn inner robe.

“Amitabha Buddha. It has been many years, Chief Na Yangja. Do you still remember Binni?”
“I remember. Aren’t you the Master Yeoyeol of Geukrak Hermitage?”

“Hehehehe. Your memory truly is sharp. Yes, I am Binni.”

Yeoyeol laughed, baring her teeth. Before her laughter had even faded, another figure descended from the Western Slope.
A middle-aged man in ornate formal robes. His square face bore the weathered look of one accustomed to hardship, and he wielded a Crescent Blade. From the forest he had vacated, the presence of several others lingered still.
None of the four leaders had come alone. Jang Saeng’s gaze swept across the tethered horses to the south.
There was still distance between the horses and the party, and the forest presences encircled that space in a wide ring. To execute the breakthrough Na Yangja had ordered, they would first have to break through the sight lines of these four.

“Na Yangja, today you shall pay the price for your accumulation of misdeeds.”

Yeoyeol’s eyes widened as she looked toward the man.

“Master Poong’s temper is as fiery as ever, I see.”
“Hmph. A grave robber stands before me. Any sword stroke would be justified.”

Jin Ipchu held one side of the Wooden Chest and clicked his tongue.

“You’ve been spouting righteousness this whole time. Who exactly are you?”

The man’s face flushed crimson.

“Listen well, boy. I am Poong Bulbeom, master of Geumjeong Mountain Manor.”

“Geumjeong Mountain Manor?”

Jin Ipchu turned to look at his sworn brothers.

“Any of you heard of it?”

Yi Jung-yong and Jeon Jin-gung shook their heads. Jang Saeng, genuinely ignorant, followed suit, and Batu—a beat late—swung his thick neck in denial.
Poong Bulbeom’s temples twitched.

“I’ll leave no one alive—not the ringleader, not a single one of his lackeys.”
“Is that so? Did righteous fury alone drive you all the way here?”

Jin Ipchu’s mouth twisted upward in a crooked smile.

“If you crave the secret manual, just say so. This knight-errant routine makes you look even more pathetic.”

Poong Bulbeom made no reply. The moment his hand—gripping the Crescent Blade—descended, his body launched forward.
The other three did not move. Yeoyeol let her smile fade and watched where Poong Bulbeom’s palm was aimed.
The fat man from the south and the long shadow from the northeast held back. Poong Bulbeom stood his ground, as if first wanting to gauge how much force his opponent would draw forth.
His target was not Na Yangja but Jin Ipchu. His open palm drove straight for Jin Ipchu’s chest.

“Jin Ipchu!”

Batu released the Wooden Chest and twisted his frame. As one side tilted suddenly, Jin Ipchu caught it with his knee, and Batu threw a fist forward to block.
Boom!
Fist and palm collided. A pale blue aura flashed above Poong Bulbeom’s head, while a faint crimson light brushed past Batu.
Both men stepped back. Poong Bulbeom’s boots swept grass in long arcs, while Batu’s heels gouged deep into wet soil.
The impact traveled through Batu’s shoulders and drove him backward. The Wooden Chest Jin Ipchu supported with his knee shuddered hard once, but the two regained their footing before it touched earth.
Batu drew in a breath and stiffened his chest. He soon straightened his waist, but before retaking the chest’s grip, he opened and closed his fingers once.
His lips clenched for a moment and his breathing grew shallow. No visible wound appeared, but the internal injury seemed far from light.
Instead of pressing a hand to his chest, Batu grasped the chest’s handle again. Thick veins stood out on his broad hands, yet he showed Poong Bulbeom no sign of pain.
Still, Batu did not yield his ground before Jin Ipchu. Poong Bulbeom, at the San Dong realm, had failed to drive back Batu—at the Dong Shen realm—in a single strike.
Only then did Jang Saeng understand when Spirit Energy became visible. Ordinarily it left no trace, but the moment martial power surged forth, the aura flashed above the head.
Poong Bulbeom raised the Crescent Blade again. The instant he stepped forward with his leading foot, a round shadow flew from the south.
The fat man holding the Bronze Abacus descended between the two. His feet planted firm and unmoved, while his bulbous belly swayed belatedly once.
Despite his massive frame landing, the earth beneath his feet scarcely gave way. Jang Saeng noticed the motionless feet before the smiling face.

“Now, now, let us not resort to violence. Is it wise to trade blows at first meeting? Harmony is the root of all business, after all.”

Poong Bulbeom glared at the man’s back and brushed his sleeve roughly.

“Hmph.”

The man did not move from between them. The space Poong Bulbeom’s hand would have occupied a second time now belonged to him.
Yeoyeol stepped forward directly to Batu.

“Formidable martial power indeed. What kind of technique does this hero cultivate to become so impressively strong?”

Batu retreated as much as Yeoyeol advanced. When her gaze swept across his chest and arms, his face hardened entirely.

“Get away. Why do you keep clinging to a bald-headed monk?”

Yeoyeol showed no anger and stepped closer still.

“Just because there’s nothing on the head doesn’t mean there’s nothing elsewhere, does it?”

Batu’s face flushed crimson. He didn’t seem to grasp the full meaning, but he’d clearly caught that it wasn’t flattery.
Jin Ipchu merely twisted his mouth and said nothing. Unlike Poong Bulbeom, Yeoyeol made no effort to hide her desires or play at righteousness.
Perhaps for this reason, the cutting remarks she’d poured on Poong Bulbeom never came. Not because Yeoyeol was harmless, but because she at least didn’t package her true nature in false wrapping.
The man holding the Bronze Abacus bowed deeply to Poong Bulbeom with both hands clasped, then turned to face Na Yangja.
His round face was full of a merchant’s smile, and his fingers moved the abacus beads with leisurely grace—gestures so placid it was hard to believe this was the man who’d just blocked a spear thrust.

“So you are the renowned Master Na Yangja. I’ve heard your name spoken far and wide. I am Song Bo,

called such.”

He set the abacus upright before his chest.

“By the innkeeper’s trust, I manage the second-floor accounts at the Taepyeong Inn.

That is my station.”
“Master Song.”

Na Yangja lifted his hand lightly in acknowledgment. Song Bo’s smile never faltered at the cold reception.

“Lest the Master think otherwise, I should say first: I happened to be passing through by chance. I have no wish to put you in a difficult position.”

Jang Saeng had seen exactly where Song Bo had been standing. A man merely passing by had blocked Poong Bulbeom’s second strike and still stood between Na Yangja and Poong Bulbeom.
Before Na Yangja could answer, a long staff scraped the earth from the Northeastern Forest. The last man slowly revealed himself.
He was a lean man in his fifties. His face was long, and in his hand he gripped a gleaming Dog-beating Stick.

On the chest of his blue gown hung seven Yellow Cloth Patches. The Beggar Sect disciple Jang Saeng had met in Yejoo wore only three.
That man with three patches had commanded several beggars. Jang Saeng could easily guess the standing of someone bearing seven.
If the yellow patches signified rank, this new arrival’s position was beyond all comparison.

“Im Dong-yang, you are truly vicious. To heap false crimes on our Beggar Sect and bring down the garrison’s purge upon us!”

Na Yangja merely gazed coldly and made no attempt to defend himself. Song Bo quickly sidled half a step between them.

“Protector Gongsun, please set aside your anger. Surely there has been some misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?”

The man struck the ground with his Dog-beating Stick.

“Unless I tear to shreds this dog cast out by the Path, how can I face the fallen brothers of Gongsun Seungwi

in death?”

The Left Protector

of the Beggar Sect. Even as Gongsun Seungwi poured out his resentment, Jang Saeng found his gaze kept catching on those seven yellow patches.
Jin Ipchu set upright the tilted Wooden Chest.

“Listen here, you gang. If you hadn’t tried to steal our goods first, would things have blown up this way?”

Gongsun Seungwi’s long face twisted with fury.

“You filthy cur—who are you calling worthless?”
“The boy meant no insult.”

Na Yangja spoke calmly, opening his mouth. As Gongsun Seungwi turned to look at him, he studied the man’s face for a moment.

“Though I confess, it is rather long.”

Yeoyeol burst into laughter. Poong Bulbeom’s mouth twitched at the corners, and Song Bo brought his fist to his lips, stifling a cough.
Veins rose across the back of Gongsun Seungwi’s hand.

“Even facing death, you wag your tongue. Today, not even a corpse will remain intact.”
“I had no intention of leaving one.”

Jang Saeng clenched his fist above the wooden box. To others, it would have sounded like mere bravado, but from him, it was no empty promise.
The image of Na Yangja laughing as he dismissed his disciples before the Yak Wang Mausoleum overlapped in his mind. Jang Saeng could not tear his eyes from that profile, only gripping his fingers harder.
Gongsun Seungwi drew the Dog-beating Stick back, spreading his feet wide.

“Very well. Let me feel firsthand just how formidable your Five Thunder Palm

truly is.”

Batu released the handle of the Wooden Chest once more. Yi Jung-yong stepped half a pace closer to Jang Saeng, and Jeon Jin-gung turned to look toward where the horses were.
Song Bo moved to block Gongsun Seungwi’s path.

“Now then, Left Protector Gongsun. Why resort to blades when this matter might be settled with words?”

He glanced at Na Yangja’s pallid face and lowered his voice.

“The Master does not look well. What honor would it bring to the Left Protector’s name to defeat a wounded man?”

Gongsun Seungwi’s gaze shifted from Poong Bulbeom’s Crescent Blade to Yeoyeol’s empty hands, finally settling on Song Bo’s Bronze Abacus.
The end of the Dog-beating Stick slowly lowered. Gongsun Seungwi snorted and stepped two paces aside.
But he had only cleared the way before Na Yangja. The presence in the Northeastern Forest remained unchanged, and no gap opened in the encirclement.
Poong Bulbeom kept his Crescent Blade open, and Song Bo did not fully relinquish his position. Only Yeoyeol circled near Batu, attempting conversation.

“Is that martial art an external technique?”
“None of your business.”
“Then would you at least tell me the lineage?”
“Shut your mouth. Keep following me and I’ll beat you senseless.”

Batu growled and retreated another step. Yeoyeol did not pursue further, only studying his shoulders and fists in turn.
By now, Batu had moved several paces away from the Wooden Chest. Yeoyeol asked nothing more and drew no closer, merely watching his face.
Moments later, as if having found the answer herself, she nodded.

“Now I understand. With that stubborn and savage momentum, it can only be the Wild Bull Technique—

the legendary art itself.”

Yi Jung-yong’s eyes changed. Jin Ipchu opened his mouth, and Jang Saeng reached out to seize Batu’s sleeve.
But none of them were faster than Batu.

“Have your eyes gone crossed? What I’ve mastered is the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art—

not that!”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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