Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Chapter 4 Hebei Peng Clan (6)
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Cheonwi ignored Hyang's words any longer.
Instead, he turned his head toward the Peng Clan's blade warrior. The man's gaze remained utterly cold.
"Don't look at me like that. I already know you think I'm someone not worth dealing with."
The blade warrior was young.
No, all eight of the Peng Clan's blade warriors were young. They were all around Cheonwi's age. The blade warrior replied in a cold voice.
"I never wanted to get tangled up with the likes of you in the first place."
He knew that well, but it wasn't a good connection.
It showed plainly on the blade warrior's face.
Genuine irritation dwelled on his features. Cheonwi's smile deepened. He flicked his hand as if telling them to scram.
"Get lost already. I don't want to see your faces any longer either."
The Peng Clan's blade warrior glared at Cheonwi with a feral stare.
He replied in a grinding tone, as if chewing the words while looking at Cheonwi.
"I always knew you'd end up dying like a dog someday. Be born as something better in your next life."
"Bullshit."
Cheonwi's response was curt.
Slowly, the blade warrior turned his sword tip.
Chiiing, wuuuuung.
The sword, charged full with inner power, vibrated the air with a heavy resonance.
"Charge!"
The eight blade warriors kicked off the ground.
Jeonno leaped forward with them. Startled, Hyang struggled in his arms.
The hesitating foes on the right flank made the first move, swinging wolf-tooth maces and short staffs toward the Peng blade warriors.
Whiiing! Kwoooang! Craaaack!
Two longswords shot out with ferocious momentum, smashing the enemies' attacks. Upper bodies split apart, arms and legs were sliced off.
It was a terrifying counterattack that made even the struggling Hyang flinch in greater shock.
More enemies rushed in. The blade warrior who had exchanged brief words with Cheonwi shouted in a commanding voice.
"Enemy formation, deploy! Advance and annihilate the foes!!"
Four blade warriors charged out, swinging their longswords. Four black-clad warriors were diced up in an instant.
That was the essence of Peng Clan martial arts.
Individually, their skills were known to rank low even among the Six Great Clans, but the collective assault of the eight-man Heaven-Destroying Squad utterly disregarded simple addition. Their enemy formation turned one plus one into three, four.
That was the essence of Peng Clan martial arts.
The Peng Clan was a martial house renowned for producing famous generals for the imperial court generation after generation. The Heaven-Destroying Squad's advance resembled the formation of an elite vanguard of a small, crack unit.
The enemies' front line collapsed in an instant.
The White Sword Squad had already begun retreating to the rear upon the Peng blade warriors' appearance. It was the right call. The Six Great Clans didn't fight solely with martial prowess. Their very names crushed enemy morale. Clashing head-on invited future repercussions from such dreaded reputations.
Creeeang! Craaack!
Blood mist sprayed once more from the parried and swung longswords.
They dealt impartial death to all who charged. A wide path cleared along their advance, as if trampling forward amid exploding shells.
"Huu...."
Cheonwi was left behind.
Standing in place, he let out a deep breath.
He lowered the Golden Blade at a slant.
It was a stance like he had abandoned everything.
In the distance, he saw Hyang turning her head toward him.
Puk!
A burning pain like being seared by fire swept from his back through his gut. He bowed his head. A jagged blade tip protruded from his abdomen.
'This one hurts.'
He raised his head again.
He saw Hyang's eyes double in size as she looked back.
He had yelled at her not to have silly thoughts, yet here she was struggling again to escape Jeonno's arms. What did she think she could even do?
Jeonno grabbed the back of Hyang's neck. She went limp. He had struck her blood point.
'Hahaha.'
He smiled silently.
She was an amusing girl. People could be like that sometimes.
Barely a few days of connection, yet she acted as if staking her life on it. Then she made foolish mistakes. Even after messing up, she learned nothing. Later, she'd fool herself that she never regretted it.
That girl was the same. She would be.
Dizziness swirled, vertigo hitting him.
Jeonno, receding into the distance, turned his head toward him one last time. The worry in his eyes suddenly struck Cheonwi's chest.
'Gruff old man.'
Why were all old servants so damn similar?
Gruff Jeonno, silent Tuno—they were all the same.
If Oho had Jeonno, then he had Tuno. Tuno lacked Jeonno's combat prowess. Naturally, he couldn't follow. So he'd be fretting endlessly now.
'I might not make it back. Sorry about that.'
It was a sentiment utterly out of place with the situation. No, when else would he think of Tuno's face if not now?
With death drawing near. The only one he could call family.
'Still, I can't go down easy.'
A strange gleam surged in Cheonwi's eyes.
He slashed the Golden Blade upward toward his back as if hurling it.
Puk!
"Kuuhhk."
A groan collapsed from behind him.
Cheonwi turned his body.
One sword from back to chest. Another from back to gut.
Two narrow swords skewered him like a spit.
He launched himself forward. In the opposite direction from where the Peng blade warriors had vanished.
Cheonwi kicked off the ground and flew.
Amid the enemies filling every direction, the characters for "chaos" spread out.
Cheonwi's movements were inexplicable in themselves.
He had clearly taken fatal wounds, yet his motions seemed even sounder than before. Moreover, instead of pursuing the Peng blade warriors who had breached the encirclement, he was heading in the opposite direction.
The pursuers couldn't help but hesitate for a moment.
The obvious judgment to chase the fleeing Cheonwi clashed with the urge not to let the Peng blade warriors—who had inflicted massive casualties—escape.
"Chase him!"
The final decision was utterly simple.
Half dashed after Cheonwi, the other half after the Peng blade warriors. Enemies in varied uniforms split into two, rekindling their murderous intent that the Peng blade warriors had overwhelmed.
'Now then. Where's Silver?'
The end drew near....
The forest's darkness swallowed Cheonwi's entire body.
Shadows swaying in the starlight resembled beckoning hands of death.
Pasa sasasak!
A man in loose, sleeveless uniform charged from the left. He wielded a broadsword. Heightened smell amid the dark caught the scent of water.
Parak!
The broadsword wielder reeking of water came crashing down overhead with both hands on the blade, as if to smother him. Cheonwi didn't swing the Golden Blade. Instead, he twisted sideways, reaching back with one hand.
His fingertips caught the hilt of the sword embedded in his back. With thumb and index finger barely gripping it, he arched his waist round and thrust his arm straight.
Sukak! Chaeng!
The blade that had pierced through his gut slid back out, clashing with the descending broadsword and flying off. He had yanked out the embedded sword entirely to block the enemy's strike.
"Cough!"
He spat a glob of bloody phlegm and leaped onward.
Blood welled from his gut. Yet Cheonwi ran. It didn't hinder his sprint at all.
The broadsword man followed with a shocked face. Another sword remained embedded in Cheonwi's back—one protruding through his chest.
"What kind of monster...!"
The mutter burrowed into Cheonwi's ear.
That was the moment.
Cheonwi spun around, a golden streak grazing the broadsword man's throat. Before Cheonwi, not even a split-second word was allowed. The man's body slammed face-first into the ground with its forward momentum. Instant death.
Hwiririk! Tsaeak!
There were still plenty of enemies.
Another charged in. Water scent again. A new smell. The rivers of Shanxi Province carried thicker stone odor. This one had faint earth. Deeper, richer, flowing grandly. It meant one thing: not a local. The swung sword wasn't local martial arts either. Southern style. The thrusting method and form differed vastly from northern swordsmanship.
Chaeng! Peuk!
No expert discernment needed; his level was inferior to the others. Below the White Sword Squad or black-clad freaks in overall skill. Local or not, he was a rank-and-file warrior.
He dropped two more, then fully opened his rear senses.
Capturing the great foe's presence was easy. Color classification: silver. The overwhelming adversary hadn't followed the Peng blade warriors. He was coming for Cheonwi. Close. As always from the start, targeting him.
'One life... do I have to give it up after all?'
Running, he looked up at the night sky.
Why his life, of all things?
Cheonwi, Oho, Danmun.
Yes, if it had to be given, better his.
Oho and Danmun had big things ahead. No, Danmun was uncertain. Better if he didn't become a true great demon. Danmun didn't fit the house they came from any more than Cheonwi did. A great house. One glorious as a palace.
Hwi iiing!
Wind blew. Starlight peeking through scrub branches looked like scattered ice grains, chilling.
Swiiik! Chaeng!
A thin blade thrust from behind. He lightly turned and parried.
Strength was surging more and more.
A gift from the deepening night's yin energy. He felt the gut wound, nearly spilling entrails, slowly knitting closed.
Sasa sak! Pasa sasasak!
He ascended the steep uphill in one bound.
A path he'd eyed as an escape route long ago.
Shwaaaaa.
Mixed in the wind, water sounds reached him. Sapseon Stream, they called it. Higher up lay gorge-like terrain. The twisting Sapseon below sheer cliffs was said to claim four or five lives yearly with its depth and peril.
Swiiiing! Seugak!
He reached the Sapseon Gorge summit.
He urgently ducked and rolled aside by a tree. Thud thud! Thick branches fell.
Cheok!
He swiftly planted his feet firmer and stood. Emerging from the forest, he mounted the rocky shelf jutting like a ledge above the gorge.
"The White Sword Heavenly Demon...."
Cheonwi gazed at the forest shadow he'd escaped from.
On the flat rock, only cliffs behind now. As if a bright moon peeked overhead. Starlight died.
Enemies burst through rustling leaves, surrounding him. Ten, twelve, fifteen. That was all. The small fry numbered that many at most.
"Not quite."
Cheonwi welcomed the newly appearing fiend with a groan.
Through the long chase, enemy numbers had dwindled, but this one alone equaled a hundred pursuers. Perhaps more.
"Silver...?!"
Cheonwi muttered to himself, eyes gleaming.
He emerged from the forest shadow.
A first-time face.
Silver robe.
No.
An illusion from the night sky's faint glow. Not silver—gray.
Thud thud, footsteps squeezed his heart.
"You picked this as your escape route? A clichéd terrain."
The man's voice was utterly parched. Not just dry, but oozing ominous energy like a sound leaking from the netherworld.
The gray robe flapped in the night wind.
Murderous intent undulated like the robe's hems. A terrifying master.