Reincarnation of the Cloud Dragon - Chapter 98

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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 98.
“…The victor: Yalü Hee of the Black Dragon Gang!”
The Butler’s declaration echoed across the Combat Platform.
Upon the Combat Platform.
Yalü Hee’s black blade slowly withdrew from an inch before Yalü Hyeon’s throat.
Yalü Hyeon knelt on one knee atop the Combat Platform.
His garments were torn in countless places, blood seeping through the rents. None of the wounds ran particularly deep, yet countless minor lacerations scattered across his entire body in dizzying profusion.
Yalü Hee stepped closer.
And extended her hand.
Yalü Hyeon’s gaze lingered on that hand for a moment.
It was the hand that had just forced him to his knees upon the Combat Platform. Simultaneously, it was the hand that had lifted him up in their childhood.
“…Thank you, Sister.”
Yalü Hyeon grasped his sister’s hand.
Yalü Hee pulled her brother to his feet.
“You fought well, Hyeon.”
It was a form of address he had not heard in a long time.
The siblings descended from the Combat Platform side by side.
The breath of the assembly burst forth belatedly.
“Young Master Yalü Hyeon has lost….”
“The legitimate heir….”
“Yalü Hee of the Black Dragon Gang….”
Murmurs spread like ripples across the hall.
Below the Combat Platform, the white-haired elder’s face froze in coldness.
“…That child’s martial way can no longer be called the main family’s.”
The gaunt elder’s eyes narrowed.
“The talent the main family failed to nurture has subdued the main family’s legitimate heir upon the main family’s own Combat Platform. To turn a blind eye to this fact would be to blind the main family’s own vision, would it not?”
The portly elder ground his teeth quietly.
“From an outside perspective, a daughter who left the family has forced the main family’s legitimate heir to kneel. How are we to interpret this?”
A matter of face.
The portly elder’s gaze was already directed beyond the Spectator Seating, not at the Combat Platform.
As the three voices overlapped and spread.
Yalü Cheok opened his mouth quietly.
“…Father.”
Yalü Jin’s gaze turned slowly toward his son.
Yalü Cheok watched the siblings descend from the Combat Platform and drew a short breath.
“Now you must make a decision.”
Silence descended upon the Grand Martial Arena.
Yalü Jin’s fingers slowly withdrew from the rim of his teacup.
He opened his mouth.
His voice was not loud, yet it pressed upon the hall with an oddly crystalline clarity.
“Hee….”
Yalü Hee’s feet halted as she descended from the Combat Platform.
Countless gazes converged upon her simultaneously.
Yalü Jin, the Clan Master of the Guang Feng Yalü Family and her father, regarded his daughter.
“You have demonstrated that the Way of our main house does not flourish solely within its walls.”
The hall fell silent.
Even the elders could no longer find words to speak.
“A branch that extends beyond the fence does not have roots that differ from the tree.”
Yalü Hee’s eyes wavered.
‘Father… is he ultimately trying to confine me within the family’s framework….’
Yet Yalü Jin’s next words diverged from her expectations.
“I will not demand your return. Only remember this—wherever you stand, your roots remain here.”
She remained bound to the Black Dragon Gang, yet her connection to the Guang Feng Yalü Family’s roots was acknowledged.
Yalü Hee said nothing for a long while.
Then she bowed her head ever so slightly.
“…I will not forget.”
At that moment, the Butler called out loudly.
“The Combat Platform requires time for preparation, so the next match will resume after a brief respite.”
The martial contest between Yalü Hee and Yalü Hyeon, though siblings, had drawn considerable blood. Consequently, the matches were temporarily suspended.
The servants of the Guang Feng Yalü Family busied themselves preparing for the next bout.
“Well… this is fortuitous. Hee, follow me for a moment.”
Yalü Jin led the way toward the Clan Master’s Quarters.
The Clan Master’s Quarters occupied the innermost chamber of the Inner Hall.
As the heavy door closed, the clamor outside ceased entirely. Within the room lingered the faint scent of incense and the warmth of unsipped tea. A breeze seeping through the window crevice stirred the edges of the scrolls with the gentlest touch.
“Sit.”
Yalü Hee sat without a word, her fingertips arranged neatly upon her knees, awaiting his next words.
Yalü Jin’s hand slowly reached into his robes.
“The Fenghuun Codex passes only to the legitimate heir—such is the law of our main house. Therefore, I could never give it to you.”
What he withdrew was a thin yet ancient tome. Its dark-hued cover was worn smooth at the edges from countless hands, and the paper’s luster bore no resemblance to something new.
Yalü Hee’s gaze fixed upon that book.
Three characters inscribed upon the cover.
Fengying Step.
In that instant, her eyes flickered with the subtlest tremor.
“What is that…?”
“…It is called the Fengying Step.”
His voice was measured.
“I began its creation long ago, yet I have not completed this stepping technique even now….”
It was not the voice of someone making excuses. It was merely the voice of someone finally speaking aloud a truth that could no longer be ignored.
“As Clan Master of the Guang Feng Yalü Family, I could not violate the laws of my house. Yet your talent was too precious to waste. Your deep commitment to the martial way troubled me greatly—that you could not inherit this house’s stepping technique.”
Yalü Hee’s fingers stiffened imperceptibly upon her knees.
“So I sought another path.”
He let his gaze rest briefly upon the Feng Ying Manual.
“A different footwork technique suited to your frame and dark blade—not the True Demonic Way and Feng Hun Manual.”
The Clan Master paused for a beat.
Then he added one more thing.
“…It is also a footwork that began with your mother’s steps.”
Yalü Hee’s breath caught.
“…Mother’s?”
Her voice trembled low.
“Yes.”
The Clan Master gave a brief nod.
“…But I never managed to perfect it. Yet watching your combat today, I understood.”
The Clan Master’s voice sank deeper.
“The one destined to complete this footwork was never me.”
A brief silence.
“…It was you.”
Yalü Hee could not bring herself to reach out.
More than when she had defeated her brother on the Combat Platform moments before, these words shook her heart profoundly. All that she had never received, all that had never been granted, all that she had believed too late—tangled together within her chest at once.
“Why…”
Her lips barely parted.
“Why tell me only now?”
Yalü Jin did not evade the question.
“…I believed it was only right that I perfect it and give it to you. But only today did I realize that thought was wrong. I am too late… I am sorry.”
There was no excuse, no embellishment.
Yalü Hee could not tear her gaze from the book for a long while.
The Clan Master’s hand remained upon the Feng Ying Manual.
“I am uncertain whether you need this now. Yet this is a path that should have become yours long ago. Since I could not perfect it, there is no reason to hold it any longer.”
She received the book in both hands.
Paper that had rested in someone’s embrace for long years, holding their warmth.
A faint scent of ink brushed against her fingertips.
Yalü Hee’s eyes trembled ever so slightly.
She did not weep.
Only her breath caught for a moment.
“The next round of combat will begin soon. You should go.”
The Clan Master sent Yalü Hee away.
“…Thank you, Father.”
The chest that had held the Feng Ying Manual now felt hollow.
But his daughter’s bow filled that emptiness.
Yalü Jin finally felt the tightness he had carried in his chest for over a decade—a heaviness that had lingered all these years—finally release and ease.
* * *
When Yalü Hee emerged from the Clan Master’s Quarters and returned to the Grand Martial Arena, the Combat Platform was nearly cleared.
The bloodstains on the platform had been scrubbed clean, and fresh sand had been scattered across the fractured floor.
“…Sister!”
Kang Hui spotted Yalü Hee and spoke first.
“That didn’t take long.”
“…No.”
Yalü Hee answered matter-of-factly.
Yun Cheon noticed the book she held carefully in her arms, but said nothing.
Just then, the Butler walked back out to the center of the Combat Platform.
“We shall now proceed with the final match of the Eight Divisions.”
The murmuring in the crowd subsided, and the atmosphere of the Grand Martial Arena settled into silence once more.
“Nak Wol Bi Yeong Sect, Nak Wol.”
Beneath the veil, her eyes curved lightly with amusement.
Nak Wol stepped forward as if ascending a moonlit path rather than approaching a combat platform. Her hands, hidden beneath long sleeves, were relaxed, and her footsteps carried no wasted motion.
Before her gaze turned toward the platform, it lingered once upon Yun Cheon. What she saw beneath the veil remained unknowable.
Yet that momentary pause in her gaze spoke volumes—it was no accident.
“Cheongrim Yeop Family, Yeop Cheong A.”
Yeop Cheong A stepped forward with sword in hand.
There was no flamboyant display. Her waist, shoulders, and wrists were held with almost excessive rigidity and composure.
Yet at the blade’s edge, half-drawn from its scabbard, there lingered a chill that contradicted the propriety of her appearance.
The two women faced each other on the Combat Platform.
“Begin!”
The first to move was Yeop Cheong A.
A straight line.
Without unnecessary flourish, the blade extended quietly toward Nak Wol’s throat beneath the veil.
Nak Wol’s body twisted lightly.
Her sleeve brushed past, scattering into empty air.
The crowd murmured softly.
“Fast.”
“Was the Yeop Family’s young lady truly at that level?”
The second exchange.
This time, Nak Wol smiled and drove inward.
Her hidden blade flashed briefly, and Yeop Cheong A’s sword cut its path cleanly. Metal rang sharply.
In that instant, Yeop Cheong A’s blade drove deeper with an additional beat. On the surface, it appeared an extension of orthodox technique.
Yet within it lay the shadow of lethal intent.
Nak Wol’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Shrrip—
The edge of the veil was severed.
This time, the crowd’s murmur grew louder.
“She made contact?”
“Nak Wol’s face veil…!”
But the verdict came on the third exchange.
The moment Yeop Cheong A thrust forward in the same flowing pattern once more, Nak Wol’s form seemed to dissolve from that very space, slipping away like smoke.
As the blade’s tip cut through empty air, Nak Wol’s dagger was already pressing against the flat of Yeop Cheong A’s sword.
Tap.
The lightest of touches.
Yet in that single contact, the blade’s center of balance shattered completely.
Nak Wol slipped half a step closer.
The cold edge of the dagger stopped an inch before Yeop Cheong A’s throat.
Silence.
Yeop Cheong A did not move again.
She knew better than anyone that she was already one step too late.
Nak Wol laughed beneath her face veil.
“What a shame.”
Her voice was soft, yet it carried a chilling assessment within it.
“The killing technique hidden within your sword was just one beat too slow.”
Yeop Cheong A’s eyes flickered ever so slightly.
Nak Wol withdrew her dagger and added, “Still, the Cheongrim Yeop Family… you’re no minor clan.”
Yeop Cheong A silently sheathed her sword and cupped her fist in salute.
“I have lost.”
“The victor: Nak Wol!”
With the Butler’s declaration, the arena stirred once more.
It had been a brief match.
Yet in those three short exchanges alone, everyone could discern the caliber of the Young Sect Master of the Nak Wol Bi Yeong Sect.
As Yeop Cheong A descended from the Combat Platform, my gaze lingered on her for a moment.
It had been a clean blade.
Yet beneath that cleanliness, there was undoubtedly another layer—a blade that killed.
Over that brief glance, Nak Wol’s eyes curved slowly.
The eyes beneath her veil turned directly toward me.
It was a short look.
But within it lay not the lingering echo of the match just concluded, but rather an anticipation of what was yet to come.
The Butler unrolled the scroll once more.
“Thus, all preliminary matches have concluded.”
The arena fell silent.
Only four names remained.
Pae Roe Ul Ji Family, Ul Ji Geuk.
Black Dragon Gang, Yun Cheon.
Black Dragon Gang, Yalü Hee.
Nak Wol Bi Yeong Sect, Nak Wol.
Nak Wol Bi Yeong Sect, Nak Wol.
Crack.
Ul Ji Geuk rose from his seat, twisting his neck side to side.
“Waiting grew tedious. Now it’s time for a real fight, Black Dragon Gang Master.”
Azure lightning flickered briefly between the gaps of his armor.
Nak Wol observed him, a low chuckle escaping beneath her veil.
Yun Cheon climbed slowly onto the Combat Platform and looked down at him.
“Ul Ji Geuk—stop your boasting and come up here. Prove it.”

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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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