Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Mountains Beyond Mountains
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"Wait! It wasn't me!"
Mok Yangil shouted in a desperate voice as the charging warriors bore down on him.
He was trying to make it clear he had nothing to do with it, hoping to turn their blades away from him.
But contrary to his intentions...
Thud thud thud thud―
Not a single one of them so much as turned an ear to Mok Yangil's cries as they rushed straight at him.
"Damn it...!"
To think they'd charge in without even listening to a word.
Mok Yangil's face twisted in dismay as he frantically glanced to the side.
His eyes locked desperately onto Hyeok Mulin, pleading for help.
But the moment he looked back, Hyeok Mulin shattered that faint glimmer of hope.
"Sorry about this."
With those brief words of apology, Hyeok Mulin vanished into the forest in an instant.
The warriors who had been chasing him halted in confusion, like dogs that had lost their chicken.
They clearly hadn't expected him to flee without a fight.
And soon enough, their gazes converged on one spot.
"......Huh?"
The warriors who had been charging at him, and those about to swarm the stranger, all froze and stared blankly at Mok Yangil.
He was the only outsider left in the area.
Standing alone in the heart of enemy territory, Mok Yangil pointed at himself with a trembling hand.
"Me...?"
His pupils shook wildly, as if an earthquake had hit them, while thick beads of sweat formed on his muttonchops.
The warriors exchanged glances before nodding in agreement.
Then they slowly advanced on Mok Yangil, tightening the noose.
As they closed in from all sides, Mok Yangil's face drained of color, turning ashen blue.
His resentful gaze shot toward the empty spot where someone had stood just moments ago.
'Was this your plan from the start?!'
He'd been completely duped. Utterly fooled.
The Young Island Tyrant Alliance's territory was right around the corner, and he'd let his guard down, thinking they hadn't entered yet. What a colossal blunder.
To toss him to these beastly warriors like discarded bait and slip away alone—never in his wildest dreams.
What had all those years of camaraderie on the island meant, then?
To think he was such an ungrateful wretch who didn't even know loyalty.
Rage boiled within Mok Yangil, making his blood surge in reverse.
But he had no time to indulge those emotions now.
'Stay calm. I need to find a way out of this mess first.'
There was only one of him.
Against dozens of them.
And each was a notorious criminal from the martial world, with records of heinous crimes and formidable skills.
He racked his brain desperately for a way to take them on one against many, but no clever stratagem came to mind.
That left only one option.
"I won't go down easy."
With no escape route, it was all or nothing.
All he could do was thrash with everything he had.
His eyes hardened with the resolve of a cornered fighter.
"Kill him."
With that cold, unyielding command, over a dozen warriors charged.
Mok Yangil raised his fingers like claws, ready to meet them head-on—when
Whoosh whoosh whoosh―!
A barrage of slicing winds tore through the air from the side.
The warriors' heads snapped toward the sound just as tiny pebbles pierced their skulls.
Pew pew pew!
A dozen of them crumpled like rotten logs, and the survivors scattered in panic.
Amid the litter of cold corpses on the ground, the warriors scanned for the source.
Mok Yangil spotted it and grinned ear to ear, like a man receiving rain in a drought.
"Young hero...!"
He choked up at the sight of Hyeok Mulin casually flicking pebbles from his grip.
"You didn't abandon me and run after all!"
Hyeok Mulin tilted his head at the words.
"What are you talking about?"
"You left with just an apology, so I thought you'd tied me here as bait and ditched me!"
Now that he knew it was all a misunderstanding, Mok Yangil welcomed him with open arms.
But Hyeok Mulin paused, muttering to himself.
"Hoh, so that's a way to play it..."
"Y-Young hero?!"
"Heh, just kidding."
Hyeok Mulin chuckled and clarified the mix-up.
"My words were ambiguous. I was only apologizing for dragging you into this mess against your will."
"Of course. I had faith you'd come back."
After witnessing his unbelievable prowess, Mok Yangil felt his chest swell with security at his return alone.
As he contentedly surveyed the surroundings, one warrior bellowed.
"What are you gawking at?!"
The warriors gripped their weapons anew.
"Nothing's changed. Kill them both!"
Shoo shoo shoo!
No sooner had the order rung out than they split left and right.
Mok Yangil bolted rearward in terror, while Hyeok Mulin stood rooted in place.
Warriors leaped at Hyeok Mulin, their shadows engulfing him.
But only for a moment.
Plop plop!
Countless finger-sized holes riddled the shadows as light poured in.
Soon, they plummeted like sparrows struck by stones, hitting the ground limply.
One survivor, shocked by his comrades' deaths, twisted midair to land.
Without any follow-up motion, he whipped hidden weapons from his sleeve.
A needle flew straight at Hyeok Mulin's face.
But just before it pierced his eye, Hyeok Mulin pinched it between two fingers without flinching.
"......!"
The warrior froze at the bizarre, inexplicable sight.
But as others joined him, he too drew dozens of darts, slipping them onto his fingers.
They acknowledged Hyeok Mulin's skill and unleashed a full assault.
Hidden weapons blanketed the sky like a torrential downpour.
"......"
Hyeok Mulin stood motionless, gazing steadily at the onslaught.
The moment they neared his skin, a sharp glint flickered in his eyes.
* * *
"Huff, huff!"
As the warriors split, a path opened, and Mok Yangil fled rearward.
But one couldn't run forever.
He dispatched those closing in one by one while retreating, slowly thinning their numbers.
'Damn it, is this how it ends?'
In the fierce chase, he pierced the hearts of Young Island Tyrant Alliance warriors.
He'd kept neutral in a small island group until now, but with them gunning for his life, fighting was his only choice.
Splurt!
He yanked his fingers from a heart, and the foe flopped face-down.
Glancing at the corpse, Mok Yangil sensed he was crossing a point of no return and squeezed his eyes shut.
But footsteps approached, so he retreated swiftly, resuming the fight.
He hid behind trees pretending to flee, ambushed, ran again, then spun to slay frontal foes.
Hit-and-run drained his breath to the limit.
Panting heavily, he finally halted.
He turned, palm outstretched toward his pursuers.
"Wait! I have no reason to fight you!"
They hesitated briefly before scoffing.
"Save your lies. We all know you're with the Heavenly Snare Liberation Society."
"What are you—!"
Mok Yangil started to protest the falsehood but faltered.
No use.
Whatever he said would sound like enemy excuses to them.
They'd emerged unscathed from the Heavenly Snare Liberation Society, so naturally, they'd assume collusion.
Who would believe denials now?
They saw him as prey to hunt.
"Plus, you helped that bastard Ibija kill our comrades."
"How did you—!"
This bastard—did he botch the cleanup?
Or leave traces deliberately to divert pursuit?
Whichever, Mok Yangil had never resented anyone more.
Resigning to fate, he gazed skyward with a deep sigh.
"Hoo. Heh. Heheheh."
"......Hm?"
"Has he lost his mind?"
As they frowned at his hollow laughter, he spoke again.
"I don't even know anymore."
Mok Yangil advanced no more—no retreat.
Straight ahead.
"Like a moth to flame."
"He wants death? Grant it."
Armed warriors swarmed from all sides.
His side got slashed, collarbone gashed, earlobe severed.
Yet he never stepped back.
Give flesh, take bone.
He endured wounds to press the razor-thin fight.
'The way out is forward, not back.'
Running and picking them off would exhaust him first.
Better to end it here, win or lose—for a slim survival chance.
Blood sprayed trees, soaked bushes; half a shichen passed.
In the brutal fray's end, one man stood on two feet.
Mok Yangil, ragged breaths heaving, wiped blood from his eyes.
"...I survived."
His robes shredded, back bloodied, battered beyond repair—but victorious.
He staunched pus, bound wounds with cloth, finished first aid, then retraced his steps.
"Back?"
"...Yes."
"Glad you're safe."
There stood Hyeok Mulin, spotless, waiting calmly.
Around him, dozens of dead warriors sank into the marsh.
Mok Yangil eyed the bodies and sighed deeply.
"......Haaa."
Where had it all gone wrong?
Regret washed over past choices, but spilled water.
Having slain dozens from the Young Island Tyrant Alliance, no return.
He'd avoided them zealously, yet entangled now—hunted for life unless he finished them.
The island's limits left one path.
"Let's go together."
"Welcome aboard."
Seeing Hyeok Mulin's faint smile, Mok Yangil felt truly allied.
No backing out now.
He led again.
"This way. Escape the marsh first."
He knew the Alliance leader's lair.
Shortest path, skirting perils swiftly.
Clearing small fry, they crossed the marsh—into an open plain.
Mok Yangil frowned.
"A plain in the island's south? Don't remember this."
As doubt stirred, Hyeok Mulin stared ahead.
Mok Yangil followed his gaze.
"......!"
Far off, four warriors appeared.
He recognized them instantly.
"Mountains beyond mountains."
The Young Island Tyrant Alliance's core cadres—the Fearsome Nine Tyrants of the Death Path—loomed coldly, blocking the way.