Reincarnation of the Cloud Dragon - Chapter 84

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This chapter is translated by Falnar Novels Team.
Support us by reading on our official site: https://falnarnovels.com
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Chapter 84.
Only a few lanterns hung suspended in the Training Ground.
The Black Dragon Gang’s primary training hours were at dawn and early evening, and by this time, even the stragglers who lingered longest had dispersed toward the dormitories. Beneath the lantern light, the earthen floor of the Training Ground revealed its texture in faint detail.
In the center of it all stood Yalü Hee, alone.
Her sword had already been drawn from its sheath. A single blade gleamed in her grip. The flat of the steel caught the lantern light, reflecting it with a subtle shimmer.
After leaving Yun Cheon’s Administrative Office, she had not returned to her quarters. There was much to organize, but what demanded organization now was not her belongings—it was her blade.
I steadied my breathing.
Once. Twice. Three times.
From my toes to my shoulders, my muscles settled into place in sequence. The foundation of the Wind God’s Dance came first—opening the pathways through which wind flowed across my entire body. Upon that, I layered the ferocity of the Raging Wind.
The blade sang.
One Stroke Severs Wind.
The first form was always simple.
I cleaved through empty space in a single motion.
My blade fell diagonally.
The gentleness of the Wind God’s Dance supported that line. My waist turned first, my wrist released last. The sound of the blade cutting through air rang out briefly, sharply.
Whoosh—.
Raging Wind Beckons.
The second form flowed onward. A space-tearing sonic boom accompanied my upper body as it surged forward with swift precision.
The circular motion of the Wind God’s Dance reduced the blade’s rotation radius. In times past, this form would have required me to step back and strike again—but now, the Wind God’s Dance erased that hesitation, letting me tear through my opponent’s guard without that extra step.
Whoosh—.
One of the lanterns swayed in the wake of the blade’s force.
Wind God Severs Shadow.
I rolled my body a half-turn, passing the blade over my left shoulder, then used that momentum to drive the blade outward again. Originally, this form had a long gap in directional transition.
The Wind God’s Dance erased that void.
Reverse Wind Return Blade.
The only defensive form of the Raging Wind Thirteen Strokes.
The principle of deflection. Meeting force not with force, but with evasion. This was where the Wind God’s Dance aligned most perfectly with its essence.
Raging Wind Spinning Wheel.
I spun my body like a top, creating a wheel of steel. My center of gravity sank below my waist, and the blade rotated not from my arms, but from the spin itself.
Wind Blade Chaotic Dance.
The final form of the first half.
Blade strikes followed in succession as if painting afterimages, tearing through empty space. Once, twice, thrice. A rapid barrage of cuts so swift that counting became meaningless, sweeping beneath the lantern light.
At the end of the final stroke, I raised my blade upright.
My sword came to rest right there.
The first six forms of the sequence had been completed without flaw.
But from the seventh form onward, I did not know the way.
The Raging Wind that had filled the Training Ground faded like a lie.
Drip—.
A single drop of sweat fell from the tip of my blade.
‘…The Raging Wind Thirteen Strokes is the blade art of the main family.’
Yalü Hee slowly lowered her blade.
Suddenly, the chill of the Training Ground pressed against her skin.
‘…The Windgod Blade is the freedom I have claimed.’
Standing alone was far lonelier and more uncertain than she had imagined.
She did not know where to extend her blade.
Not her father, nor her elder brother, nor the elders.
They had all advanced toward the completion of the Guangfeng Thirteen Forms, never once straying from that path.
‘Now I hold both, yet I have not fully made either my own.’
Yalü Hee gripped her blade again.
Again, from the first form.
Whoosh—
It was when the second Autumn Maple Slash cut through the void.
A shadow already stood beside the wall of the Training Ground.
Yalü Hee’s shoulders stiffened imperceptibly. Yet she did not turn. She already recognized the texture of that presence.
“…Yun Cheon?”
Her voice was calm.
From beyond the boundary of lamplight, Yun Cheon stepped forward.
Yun Cheon spoke quietly.
“You are not lacking.”
Yalü Hee stood motionless, blade still in hand.
“You simply cannot let go.”
“…Cannot let go?”
The tip of Yalü Hee’s blade trembled faintly.
What was it that she was clinging to?
“Do not chase the phantom echoes of the latter half of the Guangfeng Thirteen Forms.”
“….”
“What you must perfect is not the Guangfeng Thirteen Forms, but the six forms you possess now. Make them wholly your own. That is enough.”
Yun Cheon’s gaze was quiet. There was neither urgency nor instruction.
He simply offered those words and left the rest—how Yalü Hee would handle them—to her alone.
Yalü Hee nodded slowly.
“You have a fortnight. After that, we depart for the Guang Feng Yalü Family.”
“…I will try.”
Yun Cheon’s silhouette crossed back beyond the boundary of lamplight.
His shadow left the Training Ground.
Yalü Hee slowly lifted her gaze. Beyond the Training Ground, in the darkness. Stars glimmered faintly in the northern sky. Somewhere beyond them lay the Guang Feng Yalü Family.
The place where she was born. The place that abandoned her. The place she left.
And in a fortnight, the place where she would set foot once more.
‘…I do not return to earn the family’s recognition.’
Strength gathered in Yalü Hee’s fingertips.
‘I return only to prove why I left.’
* * *
The next morning, before dawn.
Lanterns hung once more in the Training Ground—not the lamps of night, but those of early dawn. The pale blue light before sunrise slowly crept across the eastern sky.
Two figures stood facing each other in one corner of the Training Ground.
Yalü Hyeon and Kang Hui.
In Yalü Hyeon’s hand rested an enormous Cham Ma Sword. Its spine was broad and heavy.
His stance was rigid. His waist was upright, his shoulders dropped, and the line of force from his toes through his heels was unmistakable. This was the posture of one who had undergone formal training from the Guang Feng Yalü Family.
Kang Hui across from him was different.
His waist sat slightly lower. His knees bent softly, and his left shoulder dropped marginally. His Hyeol Rang Jo hung diagonally below his waist. It was a stance ready to burst forward at any moment, ready to withdraw at any moment.
Chui Geom Yi Mok leaned against the wall of the Training Ground. A wine bottle still in hand. His habit of taking a sip at dawn and spitting it out remained unchanged.
“Begin.”
Yi Mok’s words were brief.
Yalü Hyeon moved first.
The Cham Ma Sword fell diagonally. Feng Hun Bo opened a path of wind beneath his feet. One step covered the distance of two. The trajectory of the enormous blade split the dawn air heavily.
Whiish—.
Kang Hui retreated. Lowering his waist, he slipped beneath the sword’s arc. His Hyeol Rang Jo rose low.
Screech—.
Yalü Hyeon’s blade immediately traced a second arc. This time horizontal, aiming for Kang Hui’s waist.
Kang Hui stepped back further, moving his feet to the side. The Cham Ma Sword grazed the edge of his sleeve. His Hyeol Rang Jo rose diagonally toward Yalü Hyeon’s wrist.
Clang—!
Yalü Hyeon reversed his blade, knocking away Kang Hui’s Hyeol Rang Jo. The weight of the sword pressed down on Kang Hui’s wrist. His stance wavered momentarily.
‘Yalü Hyeon… he certainly has the fundamentals down. But….’
Yi Mok took a sip of wine.
Yalü Hyeon advanced another step. Gripping the Cham Ma Sword with both hands, he brought it down from above. A weighty trajectory. Feng Hun Bo supported the weight of that arc. If Kang Hui properly blocked this strike, his arms would not withstand it.
Kang Hui did not block.
Instead, he moved deeper into the very trajectory of the descending blade.
Yalü Hyeon’s eyes widened at the unexpected movement.
The Cham Ma Sword grazed Kang Hui’s shoulder. His sleeve tore, skin scraped, and blood streaked across. Yet Kang Hui did not stop. Swallowing the pain in his shoulder, he pressed completely into Yalü Hyeon’s embrace.
The space between the Cham Ma Sword and its wielder vanished.
The enormous blade could not cut an enemy within arm’s reach. With no room to swing, its massive teeth became a burden rather than an asset.
Kang Hui’s Hyeol Rang Jo rose toward Yalü Hyeon’s jaw. Its speed was far shorter than the arc the sword could trace. The moment it made contact, the sharp tip of the Hyeol Rang Jo was already hooked beneath Yalü Hyeon’s throat.
Yalü Hyeon could not lift the Cham Ma Sword.
“…I have never seen such a fighting method.”
Yalü Hyeon’s voice came out low.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. The Cham Ma Sword remained in both his hands, but in a position where it could not swing. Kang Hui’s Hyeol Rang Jo did not budge from beneath his jaw.
Kang Hui grinned. Blood still streaked from his shoulder.
“Heh. Even so, I was once called the Remnant Blood Blade. Formal matches are one thing, but in the streets, if you lose a fight, you die. Better to sacrifice an arm or shoulder than your life, wouldn’t you say?”
Kang Hui slowly withdrew his Hyeol Rang Jo. He brushed off his shoulder. Quite a bit of blood came away, but he showed no concern.
Yi Mok pushed off from the wall and took a long drink from his wine bottle.
“Yalü Hyeon.”
“Yes.”
“You have mastered the Way properly. However….”
Yi Mok gestured toward Kang Hui with his chin.
“In real combat, not sparring, you fall short. That one grew up beyond the walls. Before your Way can even push him back, he crawls inside your blade’s reach, drawing blood from your shoulder in the process.”
Yi Mok took another sip of his drink.
“In the martial world, real fights are far more common than sparring matches. Do not forget this.”
Yalü Hyeon bowed deeply.
“…Yes. I will remember.”
At the far end of the Training Ground, I watched the scene unfold in silence.
My arms were clasped behind my back, my expression serene. The moment Kang Hui burrowed into Yalü Hyeon’s Sura Way, my eyes narrowed briefly before clearing again.
‘A blood-chasing wolf.’
A wolf that hunted blood.
A wolf raised in the wild had entered the Black Dragon Gang and was properly learning martial arts.
A faint smile crossed my lips.
A place where the etiquette and honor of the Twelve Orthodox Families held sway. A gathering where the scions of renowned Demonic Cult families measured themselves against one another.
Yalü Hyeon would be the first to feel tension there, and Yalü Hee would show the most novel side of herself. Yet the one who might truly stand out was perhaps Kang Hui.
The fangs of a wolf raised without walls were a weapon the sheltered nobles of the Twelve Orthodox Families knew least how to face.
‘Unleashing a wolf within the walls of the Twelve Orthodox Families might prove entertaining.’
I unclaped my hands and turned away. The first light of dawn began to seep into the area behind the Training Ground.
* * *
A fortnight passed swiftly.
Dawn on the day of departure.
Four horses were tethered in the courtyard before the Black Dragon Gang’s Main Gate. The baggage was light—the burden of a martial artist’s journey rather than a prolonged expedition. Weapons, emergency medicines, a spare martial robe, and a modest amount of coin. That was all.
Key figures of the Black Dragon Gang had gathered before the Main Gate.
So Ryong stood at the front. Instead of his usual glib expression, he now clasped his fist respectfully.
“Gang Master, I shall look after the Black Dragon Gang while you are away.”
I looked down at So Ryong and gave a brief nod.
“…I have no concerns. Should difficulties arise, consult with the Elder.”
Saengsa Jjon stood behind So Ryong.
Stroking his long beard once, he spoke in a low voice.
“Even when I offer my backing, you scarcely use it. With just my name, you could have obtained a formal invitation to the gathering.”
“After all, the true protagonist of this gathering is not myself, but Yalü Hee.”
“…Tsk, if not for these young ones, I would introduce you myself at the gathering.”
A faint smile crossed my lips.
“…Your sentiment alone is gratitude enough. But this occasion belongs to Yalü Hee.”
“Tsk. A sentimental one. Remember this: you are destined to live in the dusty rivers and lakes of the martial world. Do not easily offer your side to anyone, anywhere.”
Saengsa Jjon stroked his beard once more. Yet a look of satisfaction lingered at the corners of his mouth.
Seol Young, standing beside him, gave a light bow to me. Children surrounded her.
Myeong Jin stepped forward and held out a bundle with both hands before me.
“…Sister made this through the night. Emergency medicines, she said. I helped gather the medicinal herbs too.”
Myeong Jin’s voice was soft, yet his gaze fixed upon Yun Cheon remained unwavering.
“Master, return safely.”
“…Thank you. And you as well, Seol Young.”
Chui Geom Yi Mok approached and stood before the horses, a wine bottle still clasped in his hand.
“Yalü Hyeon. Kang Hui.”
Both turned their heads.
“You youngsters each have your own strengths, so you must have learned something from one another.”
Yi Mok shook the wine bottle with a flick of his wrist.
Kang Hui grinned widely.
“Elder, have no worries. I’ve received quite the rigorous education these past days.”
“Tch. Don’t let that confidence lead you to shame.”
“…I shall remember. We will return safely, Elder.”
“Elder, we shall tour the renowned Guang Feng Yalü Family and Tianshan properly, and bring back a fine bottle of wine on our return.”
Kang Hui grinned once more and mounted his horse.
“Do you even know how to choose good wine? Bring back plenty of whatever you find.”
“I shall select the wine myself, not leave it to him.”
Yalü Hyeon also mounted his horse.
Yalü Hee stepped forward before the horses last.
Jin So Wol, still bearing bandages across her shoulder, emerged to see her off.
“Instructor Yalü, return safely to your family home.”
“You should be resting—why did you come out?”
“Still, I wanted to see you off myself.”
Yalü Hee’s gaze softened for a moment.
“…How long will you keep calling me so formally?”
“…You will return after visiting your family home, won’t you? Let’s share a drink when you return.”
Between these two women of such different temperaments flowed a peculiar intimacy.
“Yes. Good. I’ll be back.”
A subtle strength gathered at the tips of Yalü Hee’s fingers as she gripped the reins.
Jin So Wol’s words—to return to the Black Dragon Gang, not to her family home—somehow became her strength.
Yun Cheon mounted his horse last.
Grasping the reins, he glanced once at Yalü Hee standing beside him.
“…Let’s go, Yalü Hee. To your family home.”
“…Yes.”
Four pairs of hooves began to move in unison.
…Through the sandstorms of Qinghai, after ten days of travel, the four horses came to a halt at the entrance to the Yalü Family’s sphere of influence.
The Daepung Inn.
Seeing the party covered in dust and sand, warriors from other families cast scornful glances. One of them wore a sneer upon his lips.
“…What band of wandering ronin crawled their way up to an inn?”
Catching that sneer, Kang Hui’s eyes blazed crimson.
“…Master. Shall I gouge out those bastards’ eyes?”
Yun Cheon’s indifferent reply came as he dismounted from his horse.
“…Never mind. Ignore it. Let’s eat first.”
At Yun Cheon’s words, the faces of the group across from him stiffened in unison.

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This chapter is translated by Falnar Novels Team.
Support us by reading on our official site: https://falnarnovels.com
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