Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Beyond Humanity (4)
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"Yes. This is already..."
She changed her mind.
It wasn't the time to curse someone as a demonic heretic.
Just fighting while holding a child wasn't a proper duel anymore. This was merely a matter of survival.
"Hoo..."
She let out a long breath, expelling her stagnant qi. She couldn't even think about staunching the bleeding. There was no time for that.
The number of non-martial enemies was still overwhelming.
Two armored warriors lowered their polearms and retreated, drawing silver composite bows. Only then did she realize—they fought like imperial soldiers, not martial sect disciples. They had no interest in suppressing her clan arts with their own refined signature techniques. She had to adapt to their style of combat. She kicked off the ground and charged toward the leather-armored warriors, intending to use the enemies' bodies as shields in a chaotic street brawl.
Clang! Whoosh!
But the enemies' reactions exceeded her expectations. The leather-armored warriors seemed to read her intent, scattering quickly and widening the distance between them.
Wooong!
The moment the spatial rift opened, stakes flew toward her as if they'd been waiting.
In that instant, she realized another fact.
They were experts at overwhelming a single target as a group. It was like a pack hunt. This was no amateur work.
The thought flashed in an instant, and by then, the stake was right in front of her.
"Eek!"
She gritted her teeth and pushed the black-golden saber with all her might.
Boom!
She managed to block it somehow, but the repercussive force was terrifying. Drip, drip! Blood spurted from the wound on her shoulder in a gush.
The stake carried the same eerie power she'd sensed from the armored warrior's greatsword. Only far denser, far more potent.
'I have to take him down first...!'
There was only one option left.
If she felled the black-robed man, she'd open a path to escape. They wielded ranged weapons anyway. Fleeing while keeping distance was pointless.
She readjusted her grip on the child's waist with her left hand, lifting and holding them firmly.
With one arm completely sealed, how far could she fight?
The answer would come soon enough.
Thud!
She kicked off the ground.
The black-robed man lowered both hands. A massive, blackened stake gripped in his huge fist.
'Close quarters!'
The black-robed man didn't hurl the stake.
With a heavy thud, he stomped forward and launched himself at her.
It was like a black beast pouncing. A cruel smile hung on the man's lips.
'Mistake...!!'
Her heart sank.
She sensed her clouded judgment.
With every step that closed the gap, the pressure seemed to double.
This man wasn't a grappler. He was a beast specialized in close combat, honed by a hundred battles.
Clang!
The black-golden saber clashed head-on with the black-robed man's stake.
From the sensation transmitted in that single strike, she knew—the stake was made of wood. Yet it didn't even scratch. Even a top-tier inner expert would struggle against it. The golden saber's edge was among the finest in her clan, famed for its treasure blades. That meant the man's skill was extraordinary. Ominous.
Clang! Screeech!
The second and third clashes followed.
The black-golden saber bent as if it might snap.
She couldn't match his raw power at all. Her technique clearly held the edge, but he was like a massive boulder. She gritted her teeth, waiting for an opening. That's when it happened.
Swoosh! Swoosh, swoosh!
Her eyes widened in shock.
She'd forgotten again.
The fact that enemies could intervene at any moment.
"Urk!"
She twisted her waist, dodging two arrows. She missed the last one. It was fired by the leader of the armored warriors.
Thud!
A silver bolt tore deep into her side. She checked her arms first—thankfully, the baby was unscathed. Only then did hellish pain erupt from the arrow embedded in her right flank.
The pain didn't end there.
Having taken the arrow, she was full of openings. The black-robed man's stake came hammering down. Far too late to dodge.
Crunch!
"Ugh!"
She swallowed her scream.
Between her shoulder and nape.
The thick stake plunged from above, shattering her collarbone and burrowing into her chest. Her legs gave out. She dropped to her left knee.
"Soul fallen to the devil's temptation."
She looked up at the man.
"Repent. Repent."
The man's hand swung down.
Crack!
This time, her thigh. Pain exploded like a burst.
"Ughhhh."
She clenched her teeth.
The black-robed man was merciless. The thick stake pulverized her thigh. Not just shredding muscle—it snapped the sturdy bone.
Thud! Thud!
Now sharper pain pierced her back.
A composite bow shot from point-blank range.
They were thorough. Even in her combat-incapacitated state, they left no margin for error.
Arrows shattered her spine and ribs, shredding her lungs. Bloody foam rose in her throat.
"My son, I'm sorry."
The child heard her sorrowful voice.
Foam bubbling from her mouth, her body crumpled into the snow.
Blood spread across the white expanse like crimson blossoms.
The stiffened child lifted their head, gazing into their mother's blurring eyes.
In her fading vision, she saw the black-robed man's stake rising high behind. Instinct told her—if that stake came down, the child wouldn't survive either.
'It can't be helped. The fated day just came sooner.'
In the end, she let go and released her hand.
But the child remembered it differently.
Mother held them tight until her dying breath. That was the dream.
Swoosh! Flutter!
The dream tore apart, followed by slicing winds.
Crack!
Something shattering came next.
"Kat!"
She saw the black-robed man in his tattered long robe flinging himself away.
A shattered breastplate flew through the air, landing beside her fallen form.
Screeeee!
The sound of cleaving wind was fierce. Something incredibly fast was moving.
Boom!
"......!!"
She heard the black-robed man shouting something.
It wasn't the Central Plains tongue. But the rage in his voice was clear enough.
Her consciousness faded.
Darkness encroached on her vision.
She struggled to cling to her drifting mind, but it was beyond her will alone. As fresh blood surged, blooming red flowers in the white snowfield, her life force scattered like wind through shadows.
Crackle! Crackle! Flutter!
She heard footsteps approaching. Not one person—several.
Reinforcements from the clan? But soon, she knew it wasn't.
Unfamiliar voices crossed above her head. Not just voices—weapons whistled through the air. The attackers and these newcomers bellowed sharpened cries at each other, erupting into a bloody melee.
That was all.
She heard nothing more.
The child raised a tiny hand, caressing their mother's face. The child's face was pale.
Boom!
The final explosive roar echoed, and the endless-seeming battle halted.
Unfamiliar curses faded into the distance. One side had retreated due to numerical and power inferiority.
Shadows appeared before the child.
"This child?"
One shadow asked.
A youthful voice, utterly out of place in this scene.
"Yes, my lord."
A clear-voiced man replied, fluent in the Central Plains tongue.
"Still so young. Like me."
"Abilities unknown. But they'll likely mature faster than you, my lord. Once you reclaim your memories, physical age won't be an issue anyway."
The man was exceedingly deferential. The youthful voice responded like a soliloquy.
"I suppose so..."
The trailing words carried eons of lost time. The voice was young, but the existence was not.
The man soon stepped forward, bending down to the child touching their mother's face. His hair gleamed silver in the moonlight.
"Carrier of the light. Pa-gun never stopped talking about you."
The face beneath the long silver hair was unbelievably youthful.
"Nothing is set in stone. Not even the explorer of ages knows what fate awaits the carrier."
A boyish face.
His pale green eyes, like a golden garden pond, emitted an eerie glow.
"Sleep now. I pray we never meet again like this."
A green vortex bloomed within his eyes.
The world spun dizzily.
The young child, only four years old.
The child fell asleep.
A long sleep.
That was the primordial, his oldest memory.
* * *
"Hah!"
The same routine.
The spinning vortex mashed everything before his eyes into a single point.
Sucked into its center, his eyes snapped open.
Like emerging from a long, dark tunnel, brilliant light poured in.
'Damn...'
He felt like a living corpse.
He hated greeting each dawn this way. The sensation after every dream was utter hell, nothing less.
'Self... where am I...'
He turned his head from the sunlight, squeezing his eyes shut.
Where was this?
What had he been doing?
He rummaged through his memories.
'Forest... carriage... the sound of wind tearing...'
If he opened his eyes again, it'd be that snowy carriage interior.
The dream was always like this—vivid yet somehow broken. The mother in the dream varied each time. One day cold as winter, another warm as spring. Today's was the springlike one.
Such dreams gripped memories more fiercely, devouring even last night's recollections.
'Not here. This isn't the snowfield. It's not cold here.'
He revived his senses.
This definitely wasn't the snowfield. No rocking carriage, no whistling of blood and flesh.
'Soft. Silk bedding...'
He felt the vivid sensations of this moment.
His scattered mind and body pieced themselves back together bit by bit.
Soon, his soul returned to reality.
'Golden ceiling, floral decorations, Golden Flower Garden...!'
Now he knew.
Or rather, it was ridiculous he hadn't sooner.
It had been over six months haunting the Golden Flower Garden. The grueling mission was nearly done. Soon, he'd bid it farewell.
"Mm..."
A delicate voice sounded.
The softness wasn't just the silk bedding against his nape.
His right arm felt it more—warmth, a woman's body heat like sunlight. Soft breaths brushed his shoulder.
'Who was it again...'
Unbelievable.
Forgetting the name of the woman he'd spent the night with.
"Mm...?"
Perhaps sensing his gaze sweeping her body even in sleep.
"You're... awake...?"
The woman murmured drowsily, pulling at the silk covers.
She still hadn't shed her girlish innocence. The scent brushing from her shoulders to arms, thighs to legs, began sweeping away the dream's remnants.
'Ah, second daughter of the Yang House.'
He thought himself a damnable bastard. In this filthy district, she was his sole solace. No matter the nightmare, forgetting her name like this was unforgivable.
"Ah...!!"
The wriggling woman flinched, grabbing his arm tightly with slender fingers like a loach. Even half-asleep, she felt the pain. Blushing, she whispered.
"My... there..."
He didn't panic at her words.
Of course it hurt. He'd drawn quite a bit of blood. First time—no helping it.