Chapter 96
Chapter 96
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Main Enemy (8)
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“Behold, the form of one beyond humanity.”
The approaching Jo Guk-gu spoke with an aloof tone.
Han Sang-ja said nothing.
He gripped his jade flute tighter and simply radiated killing intent.
Jo Guk-gu came to a halt. He continued.
“And you claim to be from the Hebei Pang Clan?”
“Does it matter now?”
“It does.”
Jo Guk-gu nodded.
He clasped the jade tablet to his chest.
His movements were impeccably refined, as if honed over a lifetime. The posture of a true noble. Such grace wasn’t forged in a day or two. It seemed likely the man beneath the mask was genuinely a high-ranking official.
“And the one behind you is the Hebei Pang Clan’s Paecheon Captain?”
That was right.
Cheon Wi hadn’t charged blindly without thought.
Powerful auras were swiftly closing in from the rear forest.
It was the Paecheon Squad.
Fierce and unrestrained. Racing through the dark woods without the slightest intent to conceal their prowess.
“Eight of them. A full squad.”
Unlike Cheon Wi, Jo Guk-gu knew the jianghu.
The Paecheon Squad’s operational tactics weren’t some grand secret, but neither was it common knowledge.
“Han Sang-ja, leave them to me. Subdue this one without killing him.”
“Elder Jo, this one reeks of ghost qi.”
Han Sang-ja, who had been silently swinging his jade flute, finally spoke.
“That’s precisely why we should capture him alive and negotiate with the Black Forest, isn’t it?”
“My Ghost Eye pierced the flaw in your Immortal Herb technique. Killing him is the right call.”
“Spotting the void in an incomplete martial art is possible without Ghost Eye. Train harder, young immortal.”
Jo Guk-gu sounded like an adult scolding a child.
Han Sang-ja clearly wasn’t convinced but didn’t argue further. He glared at Cheon Wi. The gaze piercing through the holes in his immortal mask wasn’t that of an enlightened sage but of an enraged man.
“Diviner, protect the new immortal and withdraw with the Child Masks and White Mask Puppets! It’s not yet time to clash with the Nine Sects and Six Clans!”
Jo Guk-gu calmly took command of the situation.
The golden Four-Eyed Mask moved at once.
He slung the blunt spear he carried onto his back and shook his shield. A bell-like chime rang from within the shield. The stationary masks began to stir. The white masks scattered into the forest’s shadows, while the Child Masks formed a line and dashed to one side.
The woman atop the altar now wore a Female Immortal Mask. The golden Four-Eyed Mask shook his shield once more. The Female Immortal Mask’s body twitched, then rose upright with the sluggish motions of one awakening from a long slumber.
Cheon Wi saw the entire scene over Han Sang-ja’s shoulder.
He had no idea when the jade flute might strike.
A preemptive attack was out of the question from the start.
Jo Guk-gu glanced back, then addressed Han Sang-ja again.
“Half-yo like Namryeonja are rare. Young immortal, I implore you once more: do not kill him recklessly.”
“Understood, Elder Jo.”
Han Sang-ja replied grudgingly.
When he spoke like an immortal, even his voice was utterly different.
Cheon Wi thought again.
These half-mad immortals seemed truly unstable.
They were utterly oblivious to how their every word leaked sensitive information to him.
Not just Han Sang-ja, but Jo Guk-gu as well.
There was no need to voice what they knew or how much. Yet they did exactly that. It was inconceivable under Espionage Division combat protocols.
‘Individually exceptional, but as an organized fighting force, they’re dysfunctional.’
They’d never received proper training.
No one taught them engagement guidelines for potential scenarios. A trait common among jianghu wanderers without a unified sect or communal sect life—typically solo cultivators who rose through one-on-one lineages, like the Non-Human Chronicles.
As Cheon Wi’s mind raced through this instant analysis, Jo Guk-gu kicked off the ground and soared onto the treetops.
‘He’s just going?’
That was odd too.
If they wanted to capture Cheon Wi easily, the two of them could have overwhelmed him first in one swift strike, then moved on. Far more efficient. It would even eliminate variables—like Cheon Wi resisting capture.
“Does it wound the pride of you lofty immortals to gang up on a worthless one-armed wretch like me?”
“Shut your mouth. Even a minor slip of the tongue can ruin one’s path to enlightenment.”
Han Sang-ja’s speech now blended man and immortal.
It felt like he’d lost his reason, only to regain his senses. Which was the rational state—immortal or human—was anyone’s guess.
“What now? I’ve no interest in enlightenment.”
It didn’t matter what state his opponent was in. Cheon Wi always had a knack for shattering composure.
The immortal aura returning to Han Sang-ja’s eyes shifted back to killing intent.
The jade flute in his hand thrust out at terrifying speed. The energy it carried was like a drill.
Ping!
He heard the sharp, brief whoosh of air.
Cheon Wi planted his left hand on the ground and twisted his body. No urgency. Han Sang-ja’s martial arts far surpassed his own, but Cheon Wi was thoroughly accustomed to that gap.
Boom!
Behind Cheon Wi, the jade flute’s strike erupted in a blast. Like firing an arrow. To generate that impact at range without a weapon connecting was masterful skill. A realm Cheon Wi, who’d never properly built his inner energy, could only dream of.
Yet even if his own arts fell short, he wouldn’t go down.
He couldn’t win, but he wouldn’t lose either.
Cheon Wi was now on his fifth exchange with Han Sang-ja. Exploiting and countering were separate matters entirely. His current skills were still insufficient.
Scree! Ping!
Han Sang-ja’s jade flute lashed out in a chain of strikes.
No wasted motion, his robes fluttering elegantly with each swing.
Cheon Wi rolled and dodged, one-armed, caked in dirt and grass.
To any onlooker, he was no match. Strangely, he evaded with uncanny skill. The peril no longer seemed so dire.
Boom! Crack!
The more he did, the fiercer Han Sang-ja grew.
His jade flute smashed a boulder.
Jade was a fragile gem. Slamming a flute into rock meant he no longer cared to play it.
But Han Sang-ja’s jade flute was unscathed.
The flute remained whole; the boulder split in two.
“Impressive power!”
Cheon Wi praised Han Sang-ja’s cultivation.
His appearance was a mess, yet he even feigned leisure.
Han Sang-ja grew angrier still. His immortal restraint wavered again.
“How dare you!”
Han Sang-ja swung the jade flute like a blade.
The whooshes turned chaotic, like discordant notes.
Whoosh!
The jade flute grazed Cheon Wi’s side.
His flesh tore as if slashed by a knife.
Thud! Crunch!
Next, swung like a staff, it hammered Cheon Wi’s right shoulder. His body lurched forward. As Han Sang-ja raised the flute to crush his skull, he froze in shock and leaped back. Cheon Wi’s left hand swept low. Han Sang-ja retreated, too stunned even for a counter.
“Close call. Missed.”
Cheon Wi rose.
He’d sacrificed his side and shoulder to target the jade flute.
Han Sang-ja ground his teeth.
“Ghost Eye indeed!”
“Ghost Eye this, Ghost Eye that—‘ghost peepers’? Sloppy naming.”
Cheon Wi stepped back, twisting his right shoulder.
Crack.
The arm was severed, but the joint remained. The dislocated shoulder from the flute strike popped back into place.
Only then did Han Sang-ja truly see Cheon Wi.
“The bleeding’s already stopped? It’s not just Ghost Eye!”
When lording over humans as an immortal, there was no need to scrutinize foes closely.
At last, Han Sang-ja understood.
Cheon Wi wasn’t merely inhuman—he transcended the extraordinary.
Ragged clothes soaked in blood, yet no open wounds marred his body.
He’d shed that much blood in combat, yet his movements never faltered. Innate stamina couldn’t explain it. His vitality itself seemed inexhaustible.
“The cuts were shallow. Bleeding’s just a matter of staunching it here and there.”
Cheon Wi jabbed his bloodied fingers at various spots on his body.
Blatant mockery.
“Not half-yo—a full yokai.”
Speaking like a crotchety elder, Han Sang-ja kicked off the ground.
That was when Cheon Wi heard it.
Clang! Ching!
From far behind, the ring of metal. Swords clashing, pure and clear.
‘It’s started.’
Fweeeeng!
The jade flute’s tearing screech drowned the sword sounds.
Cheon Wi arched back, having read Han Sang-ja’s trajectory straight-on. Han Sang-ja was fast as ever. No room for carelessness.
Ping! Screeeee.
Thrust, retracted, and swung.
Flashy yet efficient.
Dodging, he caught the distant sword clashes again.
Cloooang!
Thick with power.
The Paecheon Squad.
Against Jo Guk-gu, of course.
That tied down both immortals.
The moment had arrived.
‘Oho! Now!’
He’d endured the grueling wait.
Cheon Wi drew out the enemy’s core forces first. Only he could manage it. Anyone else would’ve died two or three times over.
And that wasn’t all.
While battling Han Sang-ja, more sword-qi bearers had appeared.
Two of them. Still distant. Out of sight.
They wielded blade qi, but not Pang Clan.
Likely enemies.
No margin to draw them in too. It would only complicate things further.
Thus, now was the time.
Cheon Wi didn’t call out to Oho.
Oho often played the fool, but not on the battlefield.
He didn’t disappoint.
Oho knew it too.
This moment.
A shadow crossed the clearing without a whoosh.
Thud! Thump!
Oho leaped with his running momentum. He stomped a lingering Child Mask near the altar with his knee. The Child Mask’s body bounced violently and slammed into the ground.
Bang! Crack!
Oho didn’t swing his black-white sword.
Blind killing blows didn’t sit right. He wasn’t a lone wolf. Above all, he was Espionage Division. Hiding his Pang Clan ties now was pointless, but he delayed deploying Pang blade arts to the last. Habit ingrained.
Flutter! Boom!
He yanked with Golden Claw Technique and shoved with a palm strike. Another Child Mask tumbled.
Oho reached the altar.
The Female Immortal Mask—Pang Clan’s Ha Seon-go—stood at its center. Dressed like a celestial nymph. The mask was elongated and round, like an ancient beauty painting. Eyes softly arched, lips small and red.
The gaze behind the mask was clouded.
It was her.
He knew at a glance.
Espionage Division didn’t identify by faces alone. Oho wouldn’t fail to recognize her behind a mask.
“I’ve come to save you.”
Oho said.
Seol—or Ha Seon-go—didn’t respond. No, there was a faint twitch. That sufficed for Oho.
“Let’s go.”
Oho approached Seol.
Seol, Ha Seon-go, raised her hand.
“Huh?”
Oho, atop the altar, froze. Ha Seon-go’s hand aimed at him. Crude, yet dazzling qi clung to the gesture. Martial arts. Dao breathing technique, and a high-level one at that.
“What’s this now.”
For the very first time.
The words Oho had uttered upon first seeing Seol and Hyang rang out again.