The Price of Cunning
Jin Mu and the Flying Dragon Corps charged into the battlefield. They couldn't hide their shock at the far greater number of allied forces than they'd seen from afar.
How did they know the enemy would come here and bring so many troops?
Not even the main camp had anticipated the enemy striking this spot. Jin Mu and his corps had climbed here only as a precaution against various possibilities—they hadn't been certain.
Kwa-kwa-kwang!Ka-ga-gang!
"Kwaak!"
"Euaak!"
"The enemies are circling behind! Block them!"
"Behind us! Hold the rear!"
The battle raged fiercely. The Northern Murim forces still held the advantage, but the enemy's resistance was no joke.
Thud!
"Kwaak!"
Jin Mu toppled one foe, then pressed toward where even more enemies swarmed.
"These aren't bandits—they're Northwest Murim mongrels! Smash them all!"
"You bastards! Hand over your skulls!"
"Waaah!"
The Northern Murim assault, fueled by momentum, grew ever more savage. Amid the chaos, many enemies lost their will to fight and began retreating.
Yet nearly a hundred still surrounded Wi Ji-cheol like an iron wall, resisting with desperate fury.
That's when Yeon-hoo dropped right into their midst.
He'd been expected to face the enemy leader, Wi Ji-cheol, but defying all predictions, he'd leaped straight into the heart of the foe.
And then he began his sword dance.
Flash!
"Kwaak!"
"Euaak!"
His sword dance was the touch of the reaper itself—inescapable. No blocking, no dodging. The enemies before him could only spray blood and collapse.
With Cheol-u joining from the shadows, Wi Ji-cheol's once-solid perimeter began crumbling rapidly.
Parr...
Wi Ji-cheol's eyes trembled.
They're deliberately ignoring me. Like they're flaunting it...
That's how he interpreted Yeon-hoo's intent.
The strange part? Even as he thought it, he couldn't lift a finger. It felt like his legs were pillars sunk into the earth.
That gaze just now... Was that a martial art?
Impossible. No martial art in the world subdued foes with mere eyes. Even if one existed, he was confident he wouldn't fall to it.
Unless the opponent was a god.
Damn it...
Sweat trickled coldly down Wi Ji-cheol's cheek.
"We must retreat! Give the order, my lord!"
"Jeonju!"
His aides shouted urgently. But Wi Ji-cheol couldn't open his mouth.
What the hell is this...?
"Damn it! Retreat!"
Piiik!
One aide, unable to wait longer, blew the retreat horn.
The enemies scattered like startled birds.
Northern Murim warriors leaped after the fleeing foes.
Yet the twenty or so Black Cloaks around Wi Ji-cheol held their ground. They were his shadows, bound by life and death.
"Cheol-u."
"Yes, my lord."
"Call back the troops."
"...Pardon? You're letting the fleeing enemies go?"
"This is the best we can do. Obey."
"Understood."
Piiik! Piiik!
The sharp horns blared twice, recalling the pursuers. The mountain bloodbath drew to a close.
* * *
A young man approached Jin Mu, leader of the Flying Dragon Corps. It was Yang Mu-seok, leader of the White Tiger Corps, who had returned from the Iron Blood Family for weapons and come back to the field with Yeon-hoo.
He clapped the dazed Jin Mu on the shoulder with a grin.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Could he be... the Second Young Master?"
"Call him my lord. Or the Commander will chew you out."
"...!"
"Even without the Commander's scolding, just watch him awhile and 'my lord' will slip out naturally. Heh heh heh."
Jin Mu conversed but couldn't tear his eyes from Yeon-hoo approaching Wi Ji-cheol.
"Did the main camp send you here?"
"No. As soon as my lord arrived, he said we head straight here. We just followed orders."
"...What?"
"That face you're making. Well, we're pretty shocked too. How did he know the enemy would show here? Honestly, when he said to come, I thought he just wanted to scout the area."
Straight here?
Jin Mu was truly curious. Why had Yeon-hoo bypassed the main camp for this spot? Did he really know? Or sheer coincidence?
And why hasn't that guy retreated?
Jin Mu's doubtful gaze fixed on Wi Ji-cheol. He stood motionless, staring down Yeon-hoo as he approached.
Yang Mu-seok narrowed his eyes, muttering.
"That bastard... must hold a high position in the Northwest Murim, right?"
"Probably."
"Then why not retreat? He had plenty of time."
"That's what I'm wondering too."
* * *
Yeon-hoo stared straight at Wi Ji-cheol. More precisely, his pupils.
It should be wearing off by now...
He'd unleashed an incomplete technique on Wi Ji-cheol. No certainty it'd work, but the man hadn't budged—proof enough it had.
But time was nearly up.
He won't even know what hit him. Must be panicking.
Binding the strongest enemy's feet for this long? More than satisfactory.
Then—
Wi Ji-cheol raised his drooping sword, aiming at the approaching Yeon-hoo.
His frozen body had thawed.
Woooong.
The brilliant blue at the blade's tip revealed his profound inner energy.
Yeon-hoo met Wi Ji-cheol's bewildered eyes with his usual impassive tone.
"Planning to fight?"
"I won't surrender like some coward."
Wi Ji-cheol's bewilderment vanished, replaced by blazing killing intent.
His choices now: fight to the end or surrender.
Naturally, he chose the former.
"Do your men behind you feel the same?"
"Of course."
"Do they?"
Yeon-hoo glanced at the men lined behind Wi Ji-cheol. They glared with pure enmity—not one seemed broken.
Impressive.
Unlike Wang-jeok and his lot.
Yeon-hoo continued.
"Surrender, and you live. Otherwise... annihilation."
"Don't dream of it."
"Think carefully before you speak. I never give second chances."
"Shut up!"
"You have one incense stick's time."
Yeon-hoo perched on a jagged rock piercing the snowdrift.
All Northern Murim warriors gathered around him.
Wi Ji-cheol was truly surrounded on all sides.
But surrender? Never. Nor his men.
Wi Ji-cheol gazed across the ridge. Wang-jeok watched from there.
Fierce wind and swirling snow hid his expression, but Wi Ji-cheol sensed the urging to surrender.
Worm worse than filth.
Kwak.
He ground his teeth.
Escape alive? Impossible now.
So, mutual destruction.
Target: Yeon-hoo before him.
He'd overheard Yun Hoe call him "my lord." Confirmation of his identity.
Iron Blood Family's Second Young Master... We'll go to hell together today.
Thud!
Suddenly, Wi Ji-cheol thrust his sword into the snow and knelt, bowing his head.
"I surrender."
* * *
"I surrender."
Wi Ji-cheol, who'd burned with desperate resolve moments ago, knelt and declared surrender. His men behind him were the most shocked.
The Northern Murim warriors were stunned too.
No one had expected it from the man who'd seemed ready to die fighting.
All marveled for different reasons, but Yeon-hoo regarded him with the same impassive eyes.
Yun Hoe turned to Yeon-hoo.
"I'll cripple his inner energy first."
"Wait."
Swish.
Yeon-hoo descended the rock and approached Wi Ji-cheol.
Wi kept his head bowed until Yeon-hoo drew near, eyes fixed on the sword buried in the snow.
Crunck. Crunck.
He's released his energy.
Each footstep boomed like thunder in Wi Ji-cheol's ears. His heart raced, eyes gleaming.
He's fallen for it, fool...
Walking without energy? No way those steps would crunch so loud.
Even if he suspects, no matter. Killing a surrendering man ruins his honor.
That was Wi's gambit. Success meant mutual death; failure still stained Yeon-hoo with infamy.
Crunck. Crunck.
Wi waited for Yeon-hoo to close in.
Then, Yeon-hoo's feet entered his lowered view. Wi bid final farewell to his lord Wi Yeon Gwang.
I go first. Complete the great task.
Paht!
"...!"
Wi yanked the sword free and lunged at Yeon-hoo in a pure suicide strike.
"My lord!"
Yun Hoe cried out, leaping forward.
Cheol-u moved from hiding.
Wi's men charged Yeon-hoo too.
Paht!
Blood sprayed from Yeon-hoo's waist.
Wi thrust again. Staggering Yeon-hoo had no time or space to evade—absolute peril.
It's over, you bastard.
Then—
...Smiling?
Their eyes locked in that instant. Yeon-hoo was grinning.
Wi realized something was wrong.
Flash!Sslash, thunk!
The severed head tumbled into the snow.
* * *
Yeon-hoo glanced down at Wi Ji-cheol's head—so fast even his eyes hadn't caught it—then turned slowly.
Ka-ga-gang!
"Kwaak!"
"Euaak!"
Yun Hoe, Cheol-u, Jin Mu, and the corps leaders unleashed fury on the enemies rushing Yeon-hoo.
Tough foes, but none could surpass Yun Hoe or Cheol-u.
"Hah, we surrender!"
Wi's men couldn't hold and tossed their swords, declaring surrender.
"Filthy cowards. Faking surrender? Ptoo!"
Jin Mu spat at the surrenderees and turned to Yeon-hoo.
Yeon-hoo held Wi Ji-cheol's head, peeling something from the face: an exquisite human-skin mask.
He asked Yun Hoe.
"Do you know him?"
"Wi Ji-cheol... Wall Thunder Family's Jeonju, kin to Wi Yeon Gwang."
Yeon-hoo nodded silently, eyeing the surrendered enemies.
Unlike before, they'd utterly lost their fight.
"I said no second chances."
"...!"
"Cheol-u."
"Yes, my lord."
"Kill them all except one to bring back his head."
"As you command."