The War Ignites
At the same moment, a fleet was swiftly gliding southward over a river twenty zhang wide. Roughly thirty vessels, each large enough to carry about thirty men, with sharply pointed prows designed for speed. It was the pirates led by the Sea King.
Rumble!
The pirate fleet revealed itself with every flash of lightning, only to vanish again into the darkness as it raced down the river. The Sea King's face twisted in a scowl as he stared into the pitch-black void ahead.
"To think I once sailed in these things..."
The boats they rode now were specialized for rivers, not the open sea—transports previously operated by the Red Wolf Corps for supply runs. For pirates who had dominated vast oceans, they felt utterly inadequate.
Splash!
The fleet cleaved through the pouring rain, pressing south. After some time, the Sea King pointed ahead and asked, "Is that the place?"
A small island faintly emerged from the gloom. One of his aides pulled out a map, checked it, and replied, "It's exactly where he said."
"Good. Set up camp here and stand by."
"Yes, sir."
"Remember this: our job is to cut off supplies to Northwest Murim from this spot. Nothing more. No need to rush into fights. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Booze!"
"Here you go."
The Sea King wet his throat with the liquor handed over by his subordinate and gazed north. The rain-lashed sky felt eerily ominous tonight, but a life as brutal as his stirred no emotion whatsoever.
What? Hand over gold and jewels if we do well, and recognize part of the sea as ours? What bullshit! I've got enough money already, and the sea's been Sea King Archipelago territory from the start.
The Sea King thought of Yeon-hoo. Suppressed rage boiled over, reddening his eyes.
I bent the knee because of my son... but once this is done, I'll make sure you never set foot on the ocean again. You'll learn the hard way, weeping blood tears. Yeon-hoo.
Grind.
He gnashed his teeth at the mere thought of Yeon-hoo. Then—
Splash splash!
At the sound of spraying water, the Sea King's head snapped left reflexively. His eyes widened as he set down the liquor bottle. A shadow sliced through the darkness, skimming across the river's surface—a lightness skill so transcendent it made even Deng Ping Du Shui seem pedestrian.
Clang!
The pirates drew their swords in unison.
"Hey! It's me, it's me."
A clear voice rang out from the shadow. It leaped gracefully onto the Sea King's boat—Gwan-ryang. Recognizing him, the pirates sheathed their blades.
Gwan-ryang swept his gaze over the Sea King and the others, nodding in satisfaction. "Suits you guys perfectly. Keep your mouths shut, and anyone'd mistake you for Yellow River Lily. Heh heh heh."
Indeed, the pirates were clad just like Yellow River Lily forces. The entire Red Wolf Corps had sweated for three days and nights to outfit over a thousand men.
The Sea King asked flatly, "When do we start?"
"Dunno."
"What?"
"We hold here till the signal comes, then move as ordered. So chill out, grab a drink. Won't get a chance once the fight kicks off."
"Don't underestimate us. Sure, we got played and bowed to that bastard, but we've lived our lives on battlefields."
"We'll see. And a warning: better not call him 'that guy' so casually. Might've flown before, but now he's lord of our Red Wolf Corps. One wrong word, and it's hell's gates for you—and your son."
"...!"
Gwan-ryang turned his gaze north, thinking of Yeon-hoo. His eyes grew solemn.
We've tied our fate to the North. No matter what, we win this war. For our aspirations...
"Ahem!"
The Sea King approached. Gwan-ryang steadied his gaze.
"Heard Blood Clan allied with Northwest Murim... Can the North really handle a united front?"
"They'll have to. So you lot fight like hell too. Lose, and your son's done for. Oh, forgot to mention..."
"What?"
"Our lord put a seal on you. Only he can lift it."
"...!"
"Don't sweat it too much. Do your job well, and he'll remove it right away."
The Sea King's face contorted hideously. He'd seen it with his own eyes—his subordinate, who had gone ashore with his son to fetch him, writhing in agony. Yeon-hoo's face naturally overlaid the memory.
You shit-eating bastard! Deserves to be boiled in sewage! And this mangy dog—how old are you to keep talking down to me like that?
He wanted to kill him on the spot. But it was just a desire. Gwan-ryang was beyond him, and with his son hostage, he had to bite his tongue.
Damn it all—how'd I end up suffering this humiliation...
Hot steam billowed from the Sea King's nostrils.
* * *
Yang So, known as Wi Yeon-gwang's strategist, narrowed his eyes at the Northern Legion's camp.
Only two days left—should be pulling back forces by now. Why's it so quiet?
Yeon-hoo had accepted their demands, so the Northern Legion ought to withdraw further north. Yet no such movement appeared, and scouts reported nothing unusual.
Well, Northern Legion Commander Yun Hoe's the staunchest hawk in the North. Even if it's his lord's order, hard to swallow. But Yun Hoe won't defy his lord.
Yang So figured Yun Hoe was dragging his feet out of regret. An elderly man approached—Sama Jung, elder and recent head of the secret assassin organization, replacing Go Tae-bo.
He asked Yang So gravely, "You really plan to let the enemy off easy?"
"The war's over. Attacking now means facing punishment later. We endure."
"What does a chunk of land matter? Should've demanded something else to start the war!"
Sama Jung seethed. Yang So turned with a faint smile. "I understand, Elder. But White Night Cartel's iron rules must be obeyed."
"Those rules get broken eventually, don't they?"
"Maybe. But not by us first. Our lord agrees. Let go of the regret."
"I'm pissed! Throwing away this chance over some damn rule!"
As Sama Jung pressed, Yang So's eyes chilled. "I command in our lord's stead. By that authority, I say stop. Obey."
"...!"
Sama Jung flinched at the icy tone. Yang So smiled faintly again. "Weather's foul—head back to your tent for a drink. I'll watch here."
"Ahem. Fine."
Yang So watched Sama Jung retreat, then sighed softly.
To put Northwest at the top, gotta purge those rotten old farts first...
He'd long pushed for sweeping personnel reforms under "reform." But Wi Yeon-gwang refused—the elders were his lifelong comrades.
Rumble! Crack!
Lightning bleached Yang So's face. A warrior dashed up from behind.
"Strategist! Report: suspicious group bypassing mountains, heading south!"
"What?"
Another arrived. "Strategist! Big trouble!"
"What's yours?!"
"Tens of thousands of cavalry, presumed Northern forces, attacking southern plain cities!"
"...!"
Yang So, unshakable as the sky falling, widened his eyes.
The North... broke White Night Cartel's iron rule?
Unthinkable. No one would've predicted the weakest of the Eight Great Families would dare.
A thought pierced him.
If they feigned acceptance to lure Blood Clan and Golden Merchant Group away...
Chills raced up his spine; his eyes trembled. With the war seemingly extinguished, those forces had returned home. Yang So was here to scout future Northern territory.
Bad feeling!
His head whipped back. A Black Cloak stood ghost-like.
"Take your swiftest lightness experts south—scout it out!"
"Yes, Strategist."
As the Black Cloak vanished, Yang So bellowed to his flanks. "Whole army—battle stations now!"
Thoom thoom! Clang clang!
Drums and gongs shattered the night's silence. Yang So stared at the Northern Legion camp with shaking eyes.
Sama Jung rushed back from his tent. "What happened, Strategist?!"
Yang So briefed him curtly. Sama Jung's eyes gleamed meaningfully, less shock than glee. He craved war more than anyone—for good reason. The Wall Thunder elder council head beheaded by the North? Sama Jung was kin.
Thought it'd end quiet, but North fools started it themselves... How delightful. Heh heh heh.
He feigned gravity. "Then send some forces south? Chaos must be huge if even you didn't foresee it."
"Can't move rashly. What if it's a ploy to hit our rear...?"
Yang So trailed off, eyeing north. The Northern camp stayed quiet.
Twitch.
His brow arched like a blade.
Caught off guard to start, but you'll regret it with blood tears.
Yang So pondered: If he were Yeon-hoo, what scheme in this mess?
Answer came quick.
Expecting us panicked ones to hunker in defense. So strike the opposite—hit 'em where it hurts.
* * *
Yun Hoe stared at the enemy camp with utmost focus. Jang Pae said, "Will they really pull back?"
"Northwest Strategist Yang So's there. Won't budge easily. Paranoid enough to tap every stone bridge. With Blood Clan and Golden Merchant Group gone, even more cautious."
"Right. Wonder how that fox-faced schemer's grimacing now."
"Must be panicking. Never dreamed we'd break the iron rule. Heh heh heh."
"Yeah. Still... is this okay? Iron rule's never been broken before."
"Our lord says it's not breaking it. We trust."
Yun Hoe recalled Songyeong's visit. Amid chaos from Yeon-hoo's surprise decision, Songyeong delivered a game-changer. Yun Hoe's eyes had reddened; he'd even blamed himself briefly for resenting Yeon-hoo.
Then—
"Commander, enemy's moving."
Yun Hoe snapped to Jang Pae's voice, eyeing the foe. Beyond the blackness, trees—or rather, Northwest troops—shook as they advanced.
"Unexpected. That suspicious bastard chooses offense...?"
Shing.
Yun Hoe slowly drew his sword. Jang Pae lowered his massive blade from his shoulder, baring his fangs.
Smirk.
"Come if you dare. Heh heh heh."