Chapter 3: The Sword Speaks (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 3: The Sword Speaks (1)
"The Blood Cult? What kind of bullshit is that?"
"Yeah, exactly. Bullshit."
"Hey! Stop repeating me! Anyway, the Blood Cult was defeated by the Martial Alliance a long time ago and scattered to the winds!"
That was the common knowledge regarding the Blood Cult.
About twenty years ago, the Blood Cult was crushed by the combined forces of the Martial Alliance and Peerless Fortress during the Great Orthodox-Evil War. Their leader, the Blood Demon, was killed, and the cult collapsed.
However, due to their infamous reputation, martial artists to this day still tremble with fear at the mere mention of the Blood Cult.
"And how do you know if those sounds outside are from the Blood Cult or not?"
Of course I knew.
I had already experienced this once before.
Then again, from their perspective, it probably sounded like I was talking nonsense.
"Aaaagh!"
"Gah!"
Song Jwa-baek, who had been arguing with me in disbelief, froze.
The series of screams echoing from outside made it clear that something dire was happening, regardless of whether it involved the Blood Cult.
Bang!
Doors on the second floor flew open as guests rushed out of their rooms.
They must have heard the screams too.
Sensing that something had gone wrong nearby, people scrambled down the stairs in a panic.
I didn't have time to waste either.
"A-Song. Follow me!"
"Ye... Yes! Young Master!"
A-Song, who had been dazed by the screams, followed close behind.
However, I didn't head for the main entrance of the inn.
Song Jwa-baek shouted at me.
"Hey! You crazy colt! Where do you think you're going?"
Knowing he wouldn't believe me even if I explained, I ignored him and headed straight for the back door.
"Idiot. You're going to get yourself killed."
Song Jwa-baek sneered at me before taking his younger brother, Song Woo-hyeon, and following the crowd out the front.
In this situation, I didn't have the luxury of looking out for anyone else. It was every man for himself.
"Young Master, shouldn't we be heading outside if we want to escape?"
A-Song asked, sounding confused as he followed me.
I shook my head.
"It's too late. They've already surrounded the entire village. There's no way to run."
With my damaged Dantian and A-Song's complete lack of martial arts, the probability of us escaping the clutches of so many Blood Cult warriors was extremely low.
If I had undergone regression even half a shichen earlier, our chances of survival might have been higher, but right now, it was impossible.
"Th-then what are you going to do?"
"We hide."
"What? Where? There's nothing in the backyard but the latrine and the stables."
I didn't answer.
A-Song's face contorted as he muttered, "Oh... no way."
Unfortunately for him, his grim intuition was spot on.
The place I was heading for was none other than the latrine.
The backyard was filled with the pungent stench of the latrine and the stables.
"Young Master, you can't be serious."
"I'm sorry, but this is the only way."
I was certain that against the ruthless, martial-arts-trained members of the Blood Cult, the only way to hide and survive—as disgusting as it was—was the latrine.
They were human too; they would naturally avoid such a filthy place.
Creeeeak!
A-Song opened the latrine door and stared inside with despairing eyes.
To him, it must have looked like a living hell.
"Y-Young Master. The... the pit looks quite deep. Do we really have to hide in there? What if I can't breathe and die?"
In response to A-Song's question, I looked around.
My eyes caught a bundle of bamboo, likely intended for making liquor.
I grabbed an axe hanging on the wall and chopped off a section.
I handed it to A-Song.
"Bite on this and breathe through your mouth. You'll be able to hold out."
"What? This thick thing?"
The bamboo was indeed quite thick. He would have to open his mouth wide to bite it.
"Is this the time to be picky? Don't you know the saying that a field of dog shit is better than the underworld? A-Song, you clearly don't know how cruel the Blood Cult is. They'll chop off all your limbs and..."
"Hieeeek!"
Terrified by my words, A-Song finally agreed to go in.
It would be filthy and difficult, but this was the only way for him to live.
A-Song stepped into the latrine.
"What if I get fecal poisoning?"
"I've been in one before. If you mash up some pigweed and apply it, it clears right up, so don't worry and get in."
"What? You've been in a latrine pit before, Young Master?"
If only I had just 'been' in one.
I had nearly died of fecal poisoning after holding out for over a shichen.
But there was no more time for talk. I had to hide as well.
"A-Song. Endure it, no matter what. That's the only way to survive."
"Huh? Wait—!"
Shove!
I unceremoniously pushed A-Song into the pit.
"Young Masteeeeer!"
Splash!
I quickly stepped back.
Dark filth splashed up from the hole.
I'm sorry, A-Song.
To save you—you who died in my previous life—there was no other way.
Don't feel too wronged. I'm going in too.
Into the stall next door...
"Dammit."
What was this?
The pit in the adjacent stall had been recently emptied.
I couldn't hide my body in here.
Should I just force myself in?
I considered squeezing into the same pit as A-Song, but it was too narrow.
In my haste to save him first, I had put myself in a bind.
What do I do?
As I looked around frantically, the stables caught my eye.
Whinny!
A horse in the stable grew wary as I, a stranger, approached.
Things must have been truly desperate; most of the guests had fled with their horses, yet someone had left this valuable animal behind.
I quickly untied the rope and shooed the horse out.
The Blood Cult warriors wouldn't even glance this way if there were no horses left.
The feeding trough was piled high with hay.
This should be enough to cover me.
I prayed that no high-level masters would come to the inn.
Third-rate or second-rate warriors might not notice, but a first-rate master had sharp ears and excellent Qi Sense; I could be discovered in an instant.
I prayed that history wouldn't repeat itself.
I climbed into the trough and covered myself with straw, my hand instinctively reaching for the cloth-wrapped dagger in my robe.
I was conflicted.
If I were discovered, I would have to resist.
However, that bone-chilling shriek I heard when I touched the dagger earlier weighed on my mind.
But this was a matter of life and death. It would be ridiculous to refuse to use a weapon out of fear.
In the end, after much deliberation, I unwrapped the cloth.
The moment I touched the dagger—
KYAAAAAAAH!
Dammit. What the hell is that sound?
As I struggled to suppress my shock, a voice spoke.
— Don't touch me. I really hate it.
"!?"
For a moment, I doubted my own ears.
The voice that had been shrieking was now telling me not to touch it.
No way... that didn't come from this dagger, did it?
As I sat there bewildered, the voice spoke again.
— Wait, can you actually hear me?
The dagger was actually speaking.
To be precise, the sound wasn't reaching my ears; it was vibrating inside my head.
It felt like an auditory hallucination.
...How is this possible?
While I was reeling from the absurdity of it all, the voice spoke once more.
— No way. How can this be happening...
The dagger seemed just as surprised as I was.
— A human can hear my words!
This is driving me crazy.
That was exactly what I wanted to say.
How could an inanimate dagger speak?
— What? Is there a law saying daggers can't talk? Good grief. Do only those long, lanky swords get to speak?
Now it was getting irritable.
My mind became a chaotic mess.
I wondered if I was so stressed that I was hallucinating.
— Wow... he's turning a perfectly fine dagger into a hallucination.
The grumbling voice left me dazed.
I was at a loss as to how to process this bizarre phenomenon.
It was then.
Crunch.
I heard footsteps.
I held my breath and felt a surge of relief.
If I could hear the footsteps, the person wasn't a high-level master.
— Hey. Hey. Answer me.
The voice echoing in my head made a surge of irritation rise within me.
I was already scared to death, and this was making it worse.
It's a hallucination. A hallucination. Begone, idle thoughts. Shoo, shoo.
— ...Is this guy insane? Are you treating me like some lowly ghost right now?
Ha!
By this point, I was certain.
This couldn't be dismissed as a mere hallucination.
Then, an ominous sound reached my ears.
Step. Step.
My mouth went dry.
Contrary to my hopes, the footsteps were drawing closer.
I thought the empty stable wouldn't attract interest, but I was wrong.
Dammit.
— Your heart is beating faster. You're scared, aren't you?
Shut up.
I was already a nervous wreck, and the constant chattering was breaking my concentration.
The footsteps drew closer to the stable.
I tightened my grip on the dagger.
If they started poking through the hay, I would have to plunge the blade into their throat before they could make a sound.
Step!
The footsteps stopped right in front of me.
The moment I heard the rustle of the hay being disturbed—
Thrust!
I lunged out from the straw.
The first thing I saw was a man wearing a black mask.
"Gah!"
The masked man, startled by my sudden appearance, tried to jump back, but it was too late.
Having anticipated his reaction, I launched myself like a coiled spring and drove the dagger into his throat.
Squeltch!
"Urgh!"
With a muffled cry, the masked man died instantly.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that my assassination skills, honed through years of spying, were exceptional.
Of course, this was only possible because the opponent was merely a third-rate warrior.
— Whoa. I thought you were just some brat who spent his days drinking like a hooligan, but you're not bad. It's been a while since I've tasted blood.
The dagger's voice echoed in my head.
I grabbed the collar of the falling man.
I had to minimize the noise.
If this guy was here, there was a high probability that other Blood Cult warriors were inside the inn.
Warriors of the third-rate or lower usually moved in groups of at least three.
Sigh.
My plan was ruined.
Instead of being kidnapped by the Blood Cult, I might actually be killed.
If it came to this, I had no choice but to risk my life and try to escape.
Swish, swish.
I wiped the blood off the dagger onto the dead man's clothes.
The dagger was rusted, showing how long it had been neglected.
As I thought.
The edge and the tip were dull; I had to use a lot of force to pierce him.
It would be difficult to use without sharpening.
— And you're the one who neglected me all this time.
The dagger chirped.
But I didn't have time to chat with it.
Tsk.
I saw a black figure walking toward the back door of the inn.
He must be part of the same squad as the dead man.
I gently lowered the corpse, exited the stable while staying low, suppressed my presence as much as possible, and pressed myself against the wall next to the back door.
Idiot. I made a mistake.
I should have searched the dead man's body for another weapon, but I was so tense about the approaching enemy that I forgot.
I had no choice but to use this damn haunted dagger.
— Again! Again with the insults!
Quiet.
It was better to kill the one coming out now and take his weapon.
I pressed myself flat against the wall and focused.
"Hey. Did you find anything in the backyard?"
Now!
The moment I saw a leg step through the door, I kicked it with all my might.
In that instant, something unexpected happened.
The man's right leg, which I had intended to kick, slid backward.
Ah!
Instead, he kicked my leg.
With a sickening thud, the blow landed. A sharp pain shot through me, and I rolled across the ground.
"Urgh!"
"I wondered why someone was hiding by the door. I guess I was right."
A masked man stepped out of the back door, his voice calm and composed.
Oh no...
I couldn't help but be shocked.
I had assumed he would be another low-rank warrior like the one I just killed.
But this man was different.
A brown belt.
The brown sash around his waist signified a mid-level warrior of the Blood Cult.
Unlike third-rate warriors who only knew external martial arts, this man had mastered internal energy.
Even with my future body, he wasn't someone I could face head-on without a surprise attack.
What do I do?
As I panicked, the man muttered.
"You don't seem to have any internal energy, yet you've got quite a bit of grit. You even know how to look for an opening."
I didn't find the compliment flattering at all.
Being born into a martial family and never having mastered internal energy was my lifelong regret, even during my days as a spy.
"I suppose you'll do as a mid-grade specimen."
Mid-grade?
Those words triggered a memory.
Back then, when I was kidnapped, they had graded us.
At the time, they had appraised me as the lowest grade.
Seeing me beg for my life and crawl on the floor to escape without any martial arts, I must have looked like less than a worm to them.
"I'll give you a chance. You're not getting out of here anyway. If you want to live, surrender quietly."
"You weren't planning on killing me anyway."
"How do you know if I'll kill you or not?"
"Then there would be no reason to grade me."
The fact that he had assigned a grade meant he intended to kidnap me.
"The brat is clever. If you could move your body as well as you use your head, you might have been a mid-high or even high-grade specimen."
The murderous intent in his eyes suggested I had offended him.
Dash!
Apparently done talking, he lunged toward me.
There was no other way.
If I didn't want to be kidnapped, I had to fight for my life.
Snap!
He aimed a kick at my head.
Unable to stand up in time, I rolled desperately to the side.
Thud!
"That suits you perfectly."
The man sneered and swung his saber at me as I lay on the ground, as if he were playing with his food.
He wasn't just offended; he truly intended to kill me.
Damn it.
Then, a voice echoed in my head.
— Tilt your upper body slightly to the left, then stab his arm.
Without a moment's thought, I tilted my body just as instructed and dodged the saber.
In that position, I lunged with the dagger and stabbed the right arm holding the saber with all my strength.
"Huh?"
The man tried to pull back in a hurry, but the dagger grazed him.
Because the blade was dull, it didn't pierce deeply.
— What are you doing? Get up.
I scrambled to my feet and took a defensive stance, gripping the dagger tightly.
"You little shit!"
Enraged, the masked man swung his saber wildly.
— Take a big step to the left with your left foot.
I widened my stance to the left as instructed.
Whoosh!
The man's saber grazed my back by a hair's breadth.
I had avoided the attack with minimal movement.
"What!?"
— Stab the thigh!
From that position, I drove the dagger into his thigh.
This time, with my full weight behind it, the dagger sank deep into his leg.
Thwack!
"Aaaargh!"
— Push with your body!
I slammed my shoulder into him, and the masked man lost his balance and fell backward.
Without needing further instruction, I drove the dagger into the fallen man's head.
Squelch!
The man's face was pierced; his body convulsed for a moment before he went limp.
I had simply done as I was told, but the absurd result left me speechless.
Then, the triumphant voice of the dagger rang in my head.
— You seriously owe me your life.