A Rat in the Net
His mind reeled in confusion.
Why had this bastard appeared before him?
His gaze snapped toward Gwak Chu at once.
But the man was gone.
The one who had been standing right beside him a moment ago was nowhere to be seen.
"Looking for someone? Is it this fellow?"
"......?"
Jegal Mun-Hyeon grinned as he pointed. There stood Gwak Chu—the very man who had been at Mok Ja-un's side only moments earlier.
When the hell... Ah!
That last exchange. In the instant Mok Ja-un had been forced back—
"Don't tell me... you lot?"
"Well now. Should I praise you for catching on so fast, or scold you for taking this long?"
Jegal Mun-Hyeon shook his head, then turned to Gwak Chu with perfect courtesy.
"You've worked hard. Thanks to Uncle Gwak Chu, we made it this far."
"Think nothing of it. Just call me Gwak Chu, Young Master. I'm the one who should be thanking you for entrusting me with such an important task."
"Rest now. We'll take it from here."
"Yes. My heart was in my throat the entire time. I swear I've lost a good ten years off my life."
"Can't have that. I'll tell the medical hall to brew you a tonic."
"Oh my! Thank you, Young Master!"
Gwak Chu answered with theatrical gratitude.
Watching the exchange, Mok Ja-un nearly burst a vessel from sheer rage.
"You miserable bastards! You played me from the start?"
Gwak Chu's expression turned ice-cold—nothing like the deference he had shown Mun-Hyeon.
"That's right."
"You... you dog..."
"Though I suppose I can't blame you for not recognizing me."
"Recognize you?"
"Ten years ago I was in Anhui. Remember? The day a man named Mok, desperate to catch the Namgung family's eye, butchered a bandit gang near Seoseong Mountain."
"Seoseong Mountain?"
"You came to my master and said if we helped you with the job, the Namgung would reward us handsomely."
"...Don't tell me you're—"
Mok Ja-un's eyes went wide as the old memory slammed into him.
"And what did you do? When the body count came up short, you slaughtered us too—just to pad your achievements."
"......"
"I remember the way you laughed. Said you'd planned to throw us away the moment the work was done. I remember it clear as day."
"You... you..."
"Do you know how happy I was when I heard you'd come? That I could finally avenge my master and my brothers... I volunteered for this mission myself."
The venom in those eyes twisted Mok Ja-un's face.
Only then did Jegal Mun-Hyeon understand why Gwak Chu had insisted on becoming a spy despite the danger.
So that was the grudge.
For a moment Mun-Hyeon found himself glancing back at his own past.
But... he'd killed more than a few himself. Couldn't even remember most of them.
Hmm... Well, as long as I live right from now on.
Feeling an unexpected twinge of guilt, Mun-Hyeon was making that private vow when Mok Ja-un, trembling with the humiliation of being deceived, fixed Gwak Chu with a murderous glare.
"You dare harbor a grudge against the Namgung family? Fine. I'll make you regret pulling a stunt like this. I swear it—"
"You little shit. If you knew you were wrong, you should've learned to repent."
Jegal Mun-Hyeon stepped in front of Gwak Chu, smirking.
"Maybe you should've tried living a little cleaner."
"......"
"And you don't seem to grasp the situation. You will never lay a hand on Uncle Gwak Chu. Because you're going to die right here."
Mun-Hyeon raised the Eunhangon and leveled it at Mok Ja-un.
"All right, you Namgung in name only. Shall we finish this?"
"You... you think you can do it alone?"
"Hmm? Who said I was alone?"
"What?"
"You know nothing about strategy, do you? No wonder you walked right into this."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Once you realized you'd been tricked, you should've also realized the internal strife was a lie."
"...Don't tell me—"
"Exactly. Just like this."
Grinning at Mok Ja-un's bulging eyes, Mun-Hyeon raised a hand.
At once, martial artists hidden along the nearby ridge burst into the open.
"See? That's strategy. Lately I've really come to appreciate it. Every time the enemy moves exactly the way you planned, you get this rush, you know?"
"......"
"An army behind you, a wall in front of you... It's over, Mok Ja-un."
Fury boiled up. Mok Ja-un wanted nothing more than to take the laughing bastard's head right then and there.
But he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't read the board.
The moment he locked blades with Mun-Hyeon, his escape would grind to a halt. If the "internal strife" had been a ruse, the three-sect alliance was already on their heels. He had to run. Now.
"This isn't over, you bastard!"
Mok Ja-un spun south without another word.
The road to Henan was lost. He had no choice but to abandon it—
"Think I'd just let you run?"
Jegal Mun-Hyeon roared after them like a rider cracking the whip, and the chase began in earnest.
Of course, Jegal Jung-gi had told him to put on a show of pursuit and nothing more.
Later Mun-Hyeon would learn the tactic was one their distant ancestor—the great hero of the Jegal clan, Zhuge the Martial Marquis—had once employed.
The famous Hwayong Path ambush.
After the disaster at Red Cliffs, Cao Cao fled through the Hwayong Path near Jinchang. Zhuge the Martial Marquis had predicted the retreat and stationed his generals along the route. Lord Guan held the final gate, yet honored an old debt and let Cao Cao escape by a hair's breadth—nine deaths and one life.
But what of it?
The Jegal clan had no Guan Yu. Only a Heavenly Demon.
And every escape route was already being herded exactly where they wanted it to go.
In other words, Mok Ja-un was a rat caught in a net.
"Take them! Don't kill them!"
Jegal Mun-Hyeon's assault began.
With the tide turned against them, the Changcheon Swordsmen threw everything into flight. Their formation collapsed in minutes. All that remained were the weak and the wounded.
Mun-Hyeon hadn't intended a serious pursuit in the first place—he was simply counting heads as he ran—when one figure forced him to stop.
"Truly despicable bastards. Never thought they'd actually abandon you..."
He looked on with a bitter smile.
There stood So Rok-pa, sword leveled despite his injuries, as if determined to protect the men under him to the last.
"Haa. That damn sword. You can barely walk."
"I can still swing it."
So Rok-pa glared at Mun-Hyeon through ragged breaths.
"You really want to? For the ones who left you behind?"
"When the situation turns desperate, the wounded are always discarded. I hold no grudge."
"What a thick-headed man."
"......"
"So what do you get for keeping faith to the end? You think the Namgung will hold a memorial rite for you? It's meaningless. Once you're dead, it's over."
He knew that better than anyone. He had been a top expert of the Demonic Cult, and after he died no one had bothered with rites. There had only been infighting over his vacant seat. Meanwhile the Wudang bastards had painted him as the greatest villain under heaven and cursed his name for generations.
"Put the sword down. Even at full strength none of you were a match..."
"I..."
"Don't worry. I won't kill you."
"What?"
"Why would I kill you? Pointless waste."
Assets. They were assets.
Why would he casually destroy his own precious property?
"You're really going to spare us?"
"Of course. What makes the orthodox path orthodox? Our Jegal clan's righteousness is this: we don't kill the weak for no reason. Anyone who surrenders lives."
Selling them was another matter entirely...
"Then... the ones who were taken earlier?"
"All still alive."
"Ah..."
Only then did So Rok-pa's face ease with relief.
He had been worried after all—unlike a certain someone who had bolted to save his own skin.
"Everyone, lower your swords."
"But, Deputy Commander—"
"Lower them. At the very least, this man is no liar."
So Rok-pa knew that fighting would only buy them death. He persuaded his men. One by one the blades fell to the earth. They trusted So Rok-pa, not Mun-Hyeon.
Once they surrendered they offered no further resistance, allowing themselves to be taken into custody by the Jegal martial artists.
Hmm.
Looking at the man, a thought struck Mun-Hyeon.
A descendant of the Heavenly Wind. He had chosen the wrong path, but with proper cultivation he could become a force worth having—especially given the Jegal clan's chronic shortage of pure martial power, which forced them to ally with the unorthodox sects.
"Hey. Ever consider abandoning the Namgung?"
"What did you just say?"
"Look at the situation. You've already been discarded. What kind of welcome do you think you'll get if you go back?"
"Shut your mouth. Don't mock a defeated man."
"Easy, easy. Don't get so heated. You know what the world looks like these days."
"......"
"You never received any great favor from them, and you're not even a Namgung by blood. Think about it coldly. At the very least, you're not the kind of man who should throw his life away in a fight like this."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"Fine, whatever. I don't enjoy pushing people who don't want it anyway."
He would offer the chance. Whether to seize it was their choice alone.
"Brother Mun-ho."
"Yes!"
"Split the men in half. Hand off the prisoners and move straight to the next position."
"Got it."
After Jegal Mun-ho departed with the captives, Mun-Hyeon and Gwan Hwi-pyeong made their unhurried way toward the next rendezvous.
The drive had already begun. Mok Ja-un and the remaining Changcheon Swordsmen would have no choice but to dodge the walls thrown up in front of them and funnel exactly where the Jegal wanted them to go.
And waiting at the end would be the Jegal main force—the Hyeonho Unit.
"When strategy works, war is almost too easy."
No wonder the Namgung bastards were so desperate to get their hands on the Jegal clan.
But after this battle the entire world would know.
That the Jegal clan now ruled Hubei.
That no one would find them easy prey any longer—and that anyone who tried to seize them by force would have to prepare for mutual destruction.
"Well. Looks like I can finally stop fretting about the family for a while."
A comfortable warmth settled in his chest.
One less worry. Now he could focus properly on the path of ascension.
Those half-baked immortals...
He would find them too. They had deliberately taught him the Method of Annihilation instead of the true Method of Ascension, intending to kill him. He would make them pay the price.
"Huff... huff..."
Breath scraped raw against his throat.
"Damn it all..."
Curses spilled out of him unbidden.
Not only were enemies hounding their rear without rest—every path they tried was already blocked.
Flight, and more flight.
Running alone had drained their bodies dry and shattered every scrap of fighting spirit. They no longer had the strength left to battle.
Worst of all, their numbers had withered to almost nothing.
He hadn't even had a chance to count, but at a glance fewer than half of the original three hundred remained.
Should they have stood and fought?
Should they have resolved themselves to a death stand?
A thousand regrets tore through Mok Ja-un's mind.
Total defeat.
How was he supposed to bear this humiliation?
Even so, he had to return alive. He might be forced to step down as Pavilion Lord of Gangmu for a time, but if he ground his teeth in silence and endured, an opportunity would come again someday.
He had to be alive to seize it.
Just then—
"P-Pavilion Lord! A river! It's the Yangtze!"
After the long flight, hope finally beckoned.
The Yangtze. The ships the Namgung had arrived on were waiting there.
"Just a little farther. Once we reach—"
He took a step to rally his men, and that step never found the ground again.
Before his eyes stretched a long, unbroken defensive line.
Martial artists stood in disciplined ranks, each clad in robes reminiscent of scholarly attire, their bearing lofty and unyielding. High above them, banners snapped in the wind, bearing two bold characters:
Hyeonho—Profound Guard: to safeguard the deep principles.
The Jegal clan.
The escape was over.
In the place where their last hope had turned to despair.