Chapter 40: Shadow Corps-1
Chapter 40: Shadow Corps-1
"Haaa! This is the air of the secular world! Fragrant beyond compare! Kuahahaha!"
Yuk Jang-won, a former warrior of the Flying Dragon Eleventh Squad, took a deep breath and burst into hearty laughter.
Though he hadn't even left Yunnan Province yet and the dense jungle path was the same one he had always seen, somehow everything felt entirely new.
It was all because he had left the Flying Dragon Squad.
And not just on leave, either—a full discharge.
He had survived five years of duty and was now leaving the Flying Dragon Squad for good.
Of course, there were some who finished their five-year term and then served on the frontlines once again.
But Yuk Jang-won absolutely did not want to live like them.
Because most of them were men driven mad by vengeance for their sects, like the disciples of the Jeomchang Sect.
Thinking such thoughts, Yuk Jang-won shook his head firmly.
"That's madness, pure and utter madness."
Enduring another five years in that horrific place, overflowing with mortal peril and offering no fame whatsoever—why would anyone do such an insane thing?
If Yuk Jang-won had made one mistake in his life, it was volunteering for the Flying Dragon Squad out of clumsy chivalry, and if he had done one thing right, it was surviving five years safely and walking out of there—or so he believed.
Of course, he hadn't gained nothing from the frontlines.
He had entered the frontlines in his early thirties as a second-rate warrior, and now, in his mid-to-late thirties, he was emerging back into the martial world as a top-tier first-rate warrior.
Now, if he could just find some spirit medicine somewhere and fill in one jiazi of internal energy, reaching the peak level seemed well within his grasp.
The Eleventh Squad Commander, who was at the peak level, had guaranteed that he was only one step away from reaching peak, so it must be true.
So Yuk Jang-won was confident that only a path of flowers lay before him now.
'If I work just a little harder and become a peak-level master, I'll seize some remote region and become its absolute ruler.'
He would grasp wealth and fame, and marry as well.
He would reclaim those lost five years, with interest—Yuk Jang-won firmly resolved.
That was when it happened.
Fyusyuk!
A faint sound of air-splitting reached his ear.
Throwing weapons.
"Hap!"
Tadat!
Belatedly, Yuk Jang-won—in stark contrast to his careless sauntering—launched his body in an instant and simply evaded the projectiles.
As if he had never been grinning idly at all, his sharp gaze scanned the spot where the projectiles had come from and the surrounding area.
Fyusyusyuk! Fyusyuk!
The very next moment, throwing weapons flew at the spot where he had landed.
But his brief pause after leaping was a feint. He immediately accelerated, identified the point the projectiles had launched from, and charged directly toward it while weaving between the trees.
Judging by the projectiles' speed, the opponent's level seemed to be at least upper first-rate or higher.
Possibly even a top-tier first-rate, equal to himself.
But it didn't matter.
He was confident he would not lose to anyone who was not at the peak level.
He was curious about why they were attacking him, but that could be investigated later—it wouldn't be too late.
Fyusyusyuk! Ting! Ting!
Moving between the trees to conceal his body while evading the projectiles, he approached the opponent in an instant. At close range, he slipped behind a tree and immediately threw the clothes he had just shed out from behind the trunk.
Then, as if they had been waiting for exactly that, dozens of projectiles pierced through his discarded garments.
Fyusyusyusyusyusyuk!
It was a move to confuse the enemy's eyes.
The black-clad masked man who had thrown the projectiles at Yuk Jang-won realized, just a moment too late, that it had been empty clothing.
He frantically looked to the other side of the tree, wary that Yuk Jang-won might come around from that direction.
But the attack came from a place he had never imagined.
Hwaaak!
In the brief gap when he had slipped from the masked man's field of vision, Yuk Jang-won had stealthily climbed the tree and was now descending upon him from above.
"!"
The startled masked man looked up.
But it was already too late to respond.
Yuk Jang-won's triumphant grin and the blade cleaving downward filled his vision.
"Hap!"
Syuhak!
Yuk Jang-won did not doubt his victory for a single moment.
Even if the opponent's level was similar to his own, they could not match his experience of having crossed the line of death.
His plan was to sever one of the enemy's arms first and then torture information out of him.
But that was when it happened.
Suddenly, someone burst forth from the shadow of the masked man who had been staring up at him with a dazed expression.
It was an attack completely beyond his expectations.
"Keuk?!"
Yuk Jang-won's eyes practically bulged from their sockets in shock.
But whatever anyone might say, he was a veteran of a hundred battles who had endured five years on the frontlines.
The moment he witnessed the stealth technique hidden so perfectly in the shadows that he had noticed nothing, and the blue gleam of the sword striking down at him, he immediately twisted his body and attempted to evade.
That blue gleam was sword qi.
The opponent was a peak-level master.
Syuhak!
"Keueuk!"
But despite his efforts, Yuk Jang-won's arm was severed and flew away along with the blade he had raised to block.
Even that outcome was only because he had frantically rotated his body to dodge—originally, the situation was such that his entire body might have been split in two.
Even amidst the agony, Yuk Jang-won coolly assessed his enemy.
Even for a peak master, severing both his blade—wreathed in energy—and his arm in a single stroke was no easy feat.
The enemy seemed not merely to be at the initial stage of peak, but a master with at least seventy years of internal energy.
His arm severed, Yuk Jang-won fell to the ground and rolled, tumbling over and over.
He judged that defeating the enemy was impossible. He had to break away and flee somehow.
But after rolling on the ground, just as he was about to spring into the forest, Yuk Jang-won had to halt his movements and look around.
Seuseuseuk!
Masked men who had been in stealth on all sides were revealing themselves.
Eight in number. A chill ran down his spine at the fact that he had completely failed to detect so many people lurking in hiding.
Behind him, the peak-level masked man who had cut off his arm was now walking toward him leisurely.
Clenching his teeth, Yuk Jang-won quickly scanned all directions.
But no escape route was visible anywhere.
It was a dead end.
A hollow laugh escaped him.
He had been prepared for death five years ago, but to die in such an absurd way—not on the frontlines, but just when he was about to start living a proper life...
Sensing his end, Yuk Jang-won glared at the masked man and demanded,
"Are you demon underlings of the Blood Cult?!"
At that, the approaching masked man paused briefly and looked at Yuk Jang-won with a strangely heavy gaze.
Then, he let out a short sigh and said,
"You have endured much hardship."
Endured much hardship?
Hearing a completely unexpected answer, Yuk Jang-won's mind went blank.
What did that mean?
Were these men not demon underlings of the Blood Cult?
If so...
Suddenly, the face of a close senior who had left the frontlines before him flickered through Yuk Jang-won's mind.
The face of that senior with whom he had been close enough to swear brotherhood, who had made bold promises to visit him as soon as he settled down outside—yet had never come even once.
Yuk Jang-won had secretly been disappointed and resentful, thinking the man was all talk and no loyalty. Could it be... the reason was this?
Yuk Jang-won's eyes flew wide open as he shouted,
"Could it be! You are the Alliance's...?!"
In that instant, the blue energy coalesced on the masked man's sword grazed past his throat.
Shaak!
A moment later, the sharp line drawn across his neck split open, and blood sprayed forth like a blade.
Pshishishik!
And so, Yuk Jang-won's consciousness faded into nothingness.
And Sak Mu-heun, the squad leader of the Shadow Unit's Fourth Squad of the Murim Alliance, the masked man who had snuffed out his breath, prayed for his spirit in his heart.
'You should have just not returned from the frontline instead.'
The reason Yuk Jang-won died was because he was an unaffiliated wandering warrior.
If warriors belonging to sects under the Murim Alliance failed to uphold the secret oath, the Alliance would exterminate that sect itself.
Therefore, warriors of sects affiliated with the Alliance had no choice but to keep the secret oath, if only for the survival of their sects.
No, they even went so far as to report other sects that did not keep the secret oath.
Because by doing so, they could inherit the vested interests of the vanished sect.
However, unaffiliated warriors like Yuk Jang-won, or warriors belonging to the evil faction, could not guarantee confidentiality.
So the Alliance had decided to root them out completely from the start, eliminating them as potential sources of instability.
It was an insidious act, almost unbelievable as something carried out by the Murim Alliance, the pillar of the orthodox faction.
Sak Mu-heun, who had entered the Alliance in his late twenties and had been repeating this kind of work for nine years now, could neither understand nor grow accustomed to assassinating orthodox faction members who had fought off the Blood Cult's incursions on the frontline in this manner.
This was not why he had joined the Alliance.
But he had no choice.
Warriors of common birth like himself, who were not disciples of prestigious sects, had to serve in this Shadow Unit for ten years without exception in order to operate with honor as warriors in the Alliance's proper armed forces.
His only solace was that now, with just one year left, he could return to the Alliance with his head held high.
Turning his head, he saw the other squad members teasing the new recruit who had launched the solo ambush earlier.
"What? If he was the same first-rate upper level, you could handle him on your own? Not just 'handle,' but 'process'?"
"I told you not to underestimate frontline veterans, didn't I? You idiot."
It was common for new recruits to be brimming with overconfidence.
Being skilled enough to join the Murim Alliance, they naturally tended to look down on frontline warriors.
So having new recruits attempt to ambush veterans alone was something of a tradition in the Shadow Unit.
It was meant to give them experience against warriors from the frontline and make them shed their arrogance.
Sak Mu-heun watched his squad mates harassing the new recruit for a moment, then suddenly looked up at the sky.
A messenger pigeon was flying in from the sky.
As Sak Mu-heun read the missive that came through it with a grave expression, the other squad members asked.
"Another veteran? There seem to be an unusual number this month."
But Sak Mu-heun shook his head briefly and answered.
"It's not a veteran this time. They're ordering us to enter the frontline and kill one serving member. And they say it's a woman."
At those words, the squad members' faces crumpled.
"What? Why? Killing a woman serving intact on the frontline, there's never been a case like that before, has there?"
But Sak Mu-heun looked at the questioning squad member with cold eyes and spoke.
"We just follow orders. Did you forget?"
At that, the squad member flinched and shut his mouth.
Sak Mu-heun, who had been staring at the squad member with icy eyes for a moment, soon leaped forward, taking the lead.
"Let's go!"
Behind him, the nine members of the Shadow Unit's Fourth Squad launched themselves into the air.
These death dealers, consisting of two peak-level masters and seven first-rate upper-level martial artists besides squad leader Sak Mu-heun, began heading toward the Thirteen Squads.
***
Ma Yu-gyeom left his quarters and walked aimlessly.
Several passersby asked him what was wrong, but he was in such a dazed state that he couldn't even register them, let alone answer.
Inside his messily tangled head, only the telepathic transmission the Blood Demon had sent and the contents of the letter left on his bed floated around in chaos.
- It's fortunate you take after Hee-geum, not that wretch Ma Won-il.
That had been the content of the telepathic transmission the Blood Demon had sent when Ma Yu-gyeom had tried to draw his sword but was pinned down by the Blood Demon's formless force, unable to move.
At first, he hadn't even known what that meant.
He had wanted to shout, asking what kind of trick this was.
Hee-geum? Who was...!
But then Ma Yu-gyeom suddenly remembered that his mother's name had been Jeon Hee-geum.
The name of his mother, who, unlike his always cold father, had always warmly embraced him since childhood.
The moment he realized that, Ma Yu-gyeom stared at the Blood Demon with a blank face. Then, somehow, a scene was conveyed to him through the Blood Demon's eyes.
It was the image of his mother, which he had never been able to forget even in his dreams.
His mother was standing beside the Blood Demon, her eyes brimming with tears, as she spoke.
'Yu-gyeom, my precious son. This person is your maternal grandfather.'
...What?
Ma Yu-gyeom felt the strength drain from his entire body in an instant.
Even while thinking it must be an illusion, a trick of the Blood Demon, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the too-vivid image of his mother.
Rather, it was the Blood Demon who averted his gaze.
Having shown only that much before withdrawing the image of his mother, the Blood Demon spoke through telepathic transmission.
- I will leave the letter Hee-geum sent in your quarters.
That was the end of it.
But Ma Yu-gyeom's confusion began right then.
A letter sent by Hee-geum... saying his mother had sent him a letter, that meant, could it be....
She was still alive?!
His mother?!
Ma Yu-gyeom hadn't felt at all how the main summit was proceeding, or how time passed.
He just wanted to return to his room quickly and confirm it.
Two feelings were battling inside him.
The desire to check if his mother's letter had really arrived, and the rational thought that this was nonsense, that it was clearly a trick of the Blood Demon.
He wanted to read the letter desperately, but at the same time, he was afraid it might really be from his mother.
But on the bed in the room he returned to, a letter lay as if by magic.
And the letter he read....
It was in his mother's handwriting, which he remembered clearly.
That handwriting was something he could never forget.
Because it was his mother who had taught Ma Yu-gyeom how to write.
Moreover, the content was even more shocking.
The first half of the letter expressed his mother's desperate longing for Ma Yu-gyeom.
A heartfelt yearning so deep it reddened even the eyes of Ma Yu-gyeom, who prided himself on being cold and detached.
But the second half contained an account of why the Blood Demon could be none other than his maternal grandfather.
The story of the tragic secret history between the Jeon Family Estate and the Ma Family Estate in the old days.
The story of the Jeon Family Estate, ruined by the greed of the Ma Family Estate and the Jeomchang Sect, and of the Blood Demon of Four Seas, Jeon Mu-gwang, the master of the Jeon Family Estate, who had his daughter taken from him and was forced to wander the martial world.
Ma Yu-gyeom's mother was precisely the daughter of that Jeon Mu-gwang.
Ma Won-ung, the son of the Ma Family Estate master and a disciple of the Jeomchang Sect at the time, had not only brought about the ruin of the Jeon Family Estate but had also violated Jeon Mu-gwang's daughter, Jeon Hee-geum, and taken her as his own wife.
Only then could Ma Yu-gyeom understand the hateful gaze his mother always directed at his father, and that sorrowful look she showed whenever he asked about his maternal family.
And he had no choice but to accept it.
That this was the truth....
Suddenly, the question Sa Gun-il had asked him came to mind.
'Does Jeomchang have the right to rise again?'
He had thought it was a ridiculous question.
Not that he couldn't understand the sentiment, but he had thought it was merely a trivial worry incomparable to the great cause of Jeomchang's revival.
But....
"Eu-heu-heu-heu, heu-heu-heu, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
In the middle of the jungle he had wandered into without direction, Ma Yu-gyeom burst into insane laughter.
Two streams of tears were flowing steadily from his two eyes.