Chapter 4: Catching the Blade - Dark Sky Martial Emperor

On the opposite side of the pavilion sat two martial artists from the Northern Heavenly Alliance.

One was a middle-aged man with a scruffy, overgrown beard. He seemed utterly indifferent to the duels taking place on the martial stage, lounging on his back with his fingers laced behind his head. Beside him sat a woman with a slender figure and twin swords strapped across her back, her large, striking eyes fixed blankly on nothing as she spaced out.

These two were none other than the Commander and Vice-Commander of the Iron Soul Unit, one of the elite forces operating under the Northern Heavenly Alliance: the Mountain Smashing Spear, Yeom Baek, and the Silver Flash, Yoo Seol-ah.

Their assignment here was to scout capable fighters along Sword Selling Street, yet neither appeared to possess the slightest shred of interest in the proceedings.

Suddenly, Yoo Seol-ah's ears twitched.

The Ghost-Faced Wolf?

Ha Il-do, known far and wide as the Ghost-Faced Wolf. He was a moderately famous rogue whose martial prowess she openly acknowledged. However, his vile tendency to resort to underhanded, vicious tricks regardless of whether his opponent was a novice or a master had disgusted her, leading her to strike his name from their recruitment list.

She cast a sidelong glance toward Woo Gwang and Do Gyeol across the pavilion.

Exactly the kind of scoundrel those bastards would fawn over.

Just as she suspected, word reached her ears that the Red Blood Gang had recruited him. She had not merely been spacing out; she had been using her Sound-Catching Technique to ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eavesdrop on Woo Gwang and Do Gyeol's quiet conversation.

They're sending him out to test that newcomer?

Yoo Seol-ah poked Yeom Baek in the ribs with her index finger.

"Commander, get up."

"Mmph... what is it?" he grunted, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"It looks like someone rather interesting has shown up. The Red Blood Gang is deploying the Ghost-Faced Wolf to test him."

"Is that so?"

Yeom Baek finally hoisted his bulk upright.

"Their eye for talent is as predictable as ever, but... I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a look."

"My thoughts exactly."

Rising from their seats, the two peered down from the balcony. Right on cue, a man was already vaulting onto the elevated stage.

It was indeed the Ghost-Faced Wolf, Ha Il-do.

Yeom Baek's gaze drifted toward Dokgo Jin, who stood waiting calmly in the center of the ring.

Is that the one... they're testing?

Even across the considerable distance, something about the young man struck Yeom Baek as distinctly unnatural.

...There's something different about him.

The lazy indifference on Yeom Baek's face tightened into genuine gravity.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

The Ghost-Faced Wolf was in his late thirties. Though not particularly tall, he possessed a wiry, solid physique. Most peculiar was his habitual, pronounced hunch—a stance he maintained at all times so his body remained coiled like a spring, ready to lunge at his prey on a moment's notice.

Even now, he used the natural elasticity of his crouched frame to rebound effortlessly onto the stone stage.

Fixing the arena referee with a sinister sneer, Ha Il-do barked, "I'll take the next match. Any objections?"

The referee frowned, but recognizing the rogue's ties, he yielded with a resigned nod.

"Suit yourself."

The referee was well aware that Ha Il-do had ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠already been recruited into the Red Blood Gang. For him to step into the ring now meant this clash was arranged by their direct will, and crossing the Red Blood Gang was suicide.

Tch.

As the referee retreated to the edge, the Ghost-Faced Wolf came face-to-face with Dokgo Jin.

A glint of genuine interest flickered in Dokgo Jin's eyes.

A thoroughly conditioned frame. He possesses a level of skill rarely seen along Sword Selling Street.

"Isn't that the Ghost-Faced Wolf?"

"Huh? Wait, it really is him!"

"What's he doing back here?"

A stir ran through the surrounding spectators. Ha Il-do was an infamous cutthroat in these parts, and his recent absence had fueled all manner of rumors.

Ha Il-do's lips curled into a greasy grin.

"They call me the Ghost-Faced Wolf. Heard the name?"

Dokgo Jin gave a slight, indifferent shake of his head.

Ha Il-do's shoulders twitched in annoyance. "Never heard of my moniker? What, are you a raw recruit?"

"My apologies," Dokgo Jin replied mildly. "I don't pay much attention to small fry."

"What did you say?"

Ha Il-do stared, stunned by the sheer gall of the response.

"Insolent punk. Don't go dreaming of an easy death."

"I look forward to seeing you try."

Grrit!

Grinding his teeth, Ha Il-do coiled his frame until he resembled a bowstring drawn to its absolute limit.

I'll carve my name into your memory. Right through your goddamn flesh!

BANG!

The stone floor exploded beneath his soles, hurling his body forward like a catapulted iron ball. In the time it took to blink, Ha Il-do was already boring right into Dokgo Jin's face.

Faster than expected.

Most men would have panicked, but Dokgo Jin merely drifted backward like flowing water, effortlessly maintaining the gap between them. It was a cold, clinical evasion devoid of the slightest tremor of alarm. Yet that initial charge was only the bait.

Ha Il-do's left hand brushed against his waist, and an ear-splitting whistle tore through the air.

SHRRRIIK!

A gleaming silver serpent sprang forth, striking directly for Dokgo Jin's throat.

It was a flexible soft saber disguised as an ordinary cloth belt, delivered via an unpredictable left-handed draw. The blade curved at an impossible, unnatural angle, possessing lethal precision.

"Whoa!"

Gasps of shock rippled through the crowd.

Clever, but...

Against a martial artist of Dokgo Jin's caliber, a parlor trick of this level posed zero threat.

CLANG!

A sharp, resonant metallic ring cracked across the platform.

Dokgo Jin had merely flicked his index finger, striking the flat of the whipping blade dead center. A heavy jolt of dark internal energy rippled from his fingertip straight into the steel.

"...!"

The destructive vibration shuddered up the length of the blade and straight into Ha Il-do's arm, contorting his face in agony.

Khk!

Sensation vanished from his entire left arm. The soft saber nearly slipped from his grasp, but with feral, beast-like reflexes, he snatched the recoiling hilt out of the air with his right hand. He was naturally right-handed; the left-handed draw had been nothing more than a deceptive stunt designed for an ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ambush kill.

So the left hand was merely a smokescreen.

Dokgo Jin's eyes narrowed slightly. The reveal of his opponent's hidden card brought no alarm—only a faint surge of curiosity.

SH-SH-SHRRRIIK!

Now wielded by Ha Il-do's dominant hand, the supple blade twisted into bizarre, erratic coils before lunging straight for Dokgo Jin's heart. The ferocity and speed of this assault eclipsed the previous strike tenfold.

Faster, yes. But...

Within the depths of Dokgo Jin's pupils, the serpentine thrashing of the soft saber broke down into dozens of distinct, predictable fragments. Imbued with suffocating bloodlust, the trajectory of the blade was painfully obvious.

It's far too honest.

Dokgo Jin reached out into empty air.

CLACK!

The surrounding world seemed to freeze into absolute silence. With that single, understated gesture, the dancing silver blade stopped dead in its tracks.

"...!"

The spectators' eyes bulged in utter disbelief.

Dokgo Jin's index and middle fingers were clamped firmly around the shuddering razor edge.

"Th-That's—!"

"Bare-Handed Blade Catch!"

An elderly martial artist in the crowd screamed the name at the top of his lungs.

It was a pinnacle martial feat—intercepting a lethal blade with bare hands. More astonishingly, he had not wedged his palms against the flat or spine of the weapon. He had pinched the razor-sharp cutting edge with pure finger strength alone.

Feeling the violent tremors humming through his fingertips, Dokgo Jin let out a cold smirk.

You poured raw strength into it at the expense of sharpness. In the end, it is nothing more than crude butchery.

Not a single drop of blood seeped from the fingers gripping the live steel. It was an absolute, flawless neutralization.

Sheer terror washed over Ha Il-do's eyes. Driven by instinct, he desperately hauled back, trying to rip his weapon free.

"Y-You bastard! Let go of it!"

His efforts were futile. The soft saber remained as immovable as if it had been driven into the roots of Mount Tai.

Breaking your own balance. How utterly foolish.

Instead of releasing the blade, Dokgo Jin gave his wrist a light tug toward himself.

Ha Il-do, who had been throwing his entire body weight into pulling backward, was abruptly jerked forward, his balance shattering in an instant.

Ah!

Pulled helplessly across the gap with his guard completely wide open, Ha Il-do found a massive fist waiting to greet him.

CRUNCH!

A sickening crack echoed across the stone arena.

"Aaaagh!"

Ha Il-do's nasal bone caved in entirely as a geyser of scarlet erupted from his face. With that single strike, the man once whispered of as the uncrowned terror of Sword Selling Street was hurled backward, screaming, before crashing onto the stones and going limp, unconscious.

"……."

Only then did Dokgo Jin let go of the captured blade, letting it drop to the floor like a piece of discarded garbage.

Clatter.

He turned his gaze toward the dazed referee.

"That was slightly better. Is there anyone here more skilled than him?"

"...!"

The referee stood paralyzed, incapable of uttering a single word.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Leaning so far over the pavilion railing he seemed on the verge of tumbling off, Do Gyeol's shoulders trembled violently. He concealed his mouth behind his fragrant feather fan, yet he could not smother the bizarre, ecstatic giggles bubbling from his throat.

"Hehehe! Unit Leader, did you hear that? Did you hear that sound just now?"

Do Gyeol's eyes curved into rapturous crescents.

"The sound of bone splintering was so delightfully crisp. And look at those fingers! Not a single speck of blood on them. He splattered all that filthy blood across the ground while remaining utterly pristine... Ah, so clean. So breathtakingly beautiful!"

Do Gyeol writhed in place like a lover intoxicated by passion.

Beside him, Woo Gwang tapped his long fingers against the wooden railing with cold, calculating rhythm, his expression frosty. Deep within his predatory eyes, however, burned an avarice far darker than Do Gyeol's.

"He is far more exceptional than I anticipated."

Woo Gwang's gaze remained pinned on Dokgo Jin's two fingers.

"Snatching a whipping soft saber bare-handed takes far more than just keen eyesight and courage. Concentrating internal energy into the fingertips at the exact split-second of impact to dull the edge is impossible without masterful qi control."

Woo Gwang's gaze gleamed with hunger.

"He has thoroughly inherited the arts of an illustrious martial sect. I find myself immensely curious about his lineage."

"What does that matter? All we need to do is drag him back to our gang."

"You are right about that."

"Have you made up your mind, then?"

"Naturally." Woo Gwang glanced sideways toward Yeom Baek's direction. "Those dogs across the way saw it too. We must ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠claim him before they do."

On the opposite side of the pavilion, Yeom Baek had remained unmoving with his arms crossed, but a heavy gasp of admiration now tore from his lips.

"Well, I'll be!"

His attention had been fixed squarely on Dokgo Jin's lower body when the youth hauled the soft saber forward.

"Between the internal force channeled into that blade and the Ghost-Faced Wolf's desperate resistance, that pull carried enough momentum to uproot a boulder. Yet that boy's stance was so rooted into the earth, he didn't yield by a single inch."

Yeom Baek's thick fingers squeezed the railing until the sturdy timber groaned in protest. It had been an age since he had laid eyes on an unpolished gem of this magnitude, and pure exhilaration surged through his veins.

"Magnificent. A talent tailor-made for our Iron Soul Unit."

His Vice-Commander, Yoo Seol-ah, harbored a rather different impression.

Narrowing her sharp eyes, she scrutinized Dokgo Jin from head to toe.

"Doesn't something strike you as strange?"

"What do you mean?"

"He never once reached for the weapon strapped to his back. Even with an accomplished killer like the Ghost-Faced Wolf lunging for his jugular, he went out of his way to subdue him bare-handed. That is..." Her gaze turned cold. "Either monstrous arrogance, or a calculated scheme to keep his true martial heritage concealed."

"You think he's hiding something?"

"A rogue wandering Sword Selling Street executing the Bare-Handed Blade Catch with that level of casual perfection is suspicious in itself." The corner of Yoo Seol-ah's mouth curled wryly. "Then again, who in this world doesn't carry baggage? His skill is beyond question. We'll bring him back to headquarters and knock some proper discipline into him."

Everything was unfolding exactly as Wi Geum-seong and Dokgo Jin had calculated. Their prediction that the Northern Heavenly Alliance, caught between the orthodox and unorthodox, and the villainous Red Blood Gang would value raw combat ability far above family lineage had hit the mark completely.

"Let's move," Yeom Baek rumbled. "We need to make contact before the Red Blood Gang gets to him."

"Understood."

Almost in unison, the two launched themselves over the pavilion railing.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Having crushed the Ghost-Faced Wolf, Dokgo Jin stepped down from the stage without lingering. He had already sensed the shifting movements from above.

As I thought, they used the Ghost-Faced Wolf as a pawn to test me.

Though Dokgo Jin had dispatched him with contemptuous ease, the rogue was an accomplished expert by the standards of Sword Selling Street. There was no plausible reason for such a figure to pick a fight out of nowhere.

Both sides have made their move.

A faint smirk crossed Dokgo Jin's lips.

Splendid.

To make it easier for his pursuers to approach, he deliberately slipped into a secluded alleyway devoid of foot traffic.

With exquisite timing, representatives from both factions manifested before him almost simultaneously.

"……."

Shadows pooled deep within the narrow passage.

Two figures emerged from opposite ends, coming to a halt with Dokgo Jin flanked between them as if they had rehearsed the encounter. To his right stood Yoo Seol-ah, her gaze razor-sharp and twin swords resting at her back. To his left was Do Gyeol, garbed in flamboyant silks and fluttering his perfumed feather fan.

The wildly contrasting auras of the two martial artists flooded the tight alleyway.

Up close, their presence is unmistakable.

The pressure they radiated was incomparably sharper than the vague traces he had detected from the pavilion.

Do Gyeol was the first to break the silence. Concealing the lower half of his face behind his fan, his eyes curved into mocking crescents.

"Oh my, look who we have here! If it isn't Vice-Commander Yoo Seol-ah, the prickly rose of the Northern Heavenly Alliance. Whatever brings such an exalted lady down into the gutter?"

"I was wondering where that foul stench of blood was coming from," Yoo Seol-ah replied coldly. "Turns out it's the Red Blood Gang's resident clown."

Though they had shared the same viewing pavilion only moments before, their exchange carried the venom of two sworn enemies meeting for the first time.

Yoo Seol-ah crossed her arms, looking at Do Gyeol as though he were an insect.

"Has the Red Blood Gang's eye for talent sunken all the way to the soles of their feet? To think they'd send a lunatic like you."

"Commoners never can appreciate true artistry, can they?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Do Gyeol turned his gaze toward Dokgo Jin. His pupils glittered with perverse fascination, like a spoiled child eyeing a decadent feast.

"Sweetheart, I saw what you did back there. Catching a blade between your bare fingers? Utterly intoxicating. And the sound of that crunch was delicious."

Do Gyeol took a languid step closer, his voice dropping to a seductive purr.

"Going with those stiff Northern Heavenly Alliance prudes is no fun at all. Come to the Red Blood Gang. I'll take such good care of you. You can slaughter, destroy, and drown in pleasure to your heart's content."

"……."

Dokgo Jin observed him quietly, thinking that the man's demeanor was textbook Red Blood Gang.

"Shut your mouth, you pervert."

Unable to stomach any more, Yoo Seol-ah cut him off and stepped forward.

"Listen to me. Don't waste your breath listening to rootless vermin like them. Those bastards aren't even martial artists."

Unlike Do Gyeol's unhinged fervor, Yoo Seol-ah's gaze was steady and lucid.

"The Northern Heavenly Alliance treats the strong with the honor they deserve. That martial prowess of yours is far too valuable to waste rotting in an alley. Become one of us, and we will make sure your name echoes across the realm."

"Renown? Pwahaha! Listen to you, putting on airs!" Do Gyeol mocked, fluttering his fan. "You just want him to roll over and obey orders like a well-trained dog. Playing with me would be so much more thrilling. Don't you agree?"

In an instant, suffocating tension gripped the narrow passage.

Yoo Seol-ah's fingers tightened around the hilts of her twin swords, while Do Gyeol subtly unraveled the invisible Thousand-Transformation Blood Threads nestled within his feather fan. The air was wound so tight that bloodshed seemed inevitable at any second.

Yet the man caught in the center merely watched the standoff with an aloof, detached gaze.

I suppose this is my cue.

Dokgo Jin pushed himself off the stone wall he had been leaning against.

"That's quite enough from both of you."

Both Yoo Seol-ah and Do Gyeol snapped their gazes toward him.

Completely unbothered by the murderous intent radiating from either side, Dokgo Jin straightened his posture and continued smoothly.

"The merchant hasn't even put his goods up for sale, yet the customers are already grabbing each other by the collar over who gets them."

A slight furrow appeared between his brows.

"You've got the sequence completely backwards."

At Dokgo Jin's provocative rebuke, Yoo Seol-ah's eyes narrowed dangerously, while Do Gyeol's smile stretched wider in sheer delight. Just as either of them could formulate a retort, a booming roar of laughter cut through the alley.

"Hahahahaha!"

Startled, both commanders whipped their heads around. Towering before the alley entrance stood Yeom Baek, Commander of the Iron Soul Unit.

"Showing zero interest despite offers from two of the Four Hegemons of the Central Plains... You truly possess an extraordinary mettle, boy."

Yeom Baek's piercing gaze locked onto Dokgo Jin's eyes.

"Would you care to hear what I have to say as well?"

Dark Sky Martial Emperor

Catching the Blade

COMMENTS000

COMMENTS