Chapter 51: In the Human World, April's Fragrance Ends (22)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 51: In the Human World, April's Fragrance Ends (22)
The White Dragon Gang and the Mount Cheonro Bandits bellowed in desperation.
"Hold the line! Just hold on! We only faltered for a moment! If we can weather this, we’ll take back the advantage!"
The Pungryu Martial Arts Hall and the Severing Sword Sect screamed back in defiance.
"Push them! Now! We have to end this here!"
In a living hell where blood sprayed and chunks of flesh littered the earth, every eye darted frantically.
For victory.
For survival.
The right flank can hold! I need to support the left!
That bandit bastard—I’ll circle around and take him from behind!
Dammit, it’s dangerous! I have to push this guy back and provide backup!
Their desperate schemes collided, the advantage shifting back and forth like a pendulum. The chaotic battlefield was a writhing mass of tangled snakes.
It was then that Lee Yu-baek’s gaze landed on a young man.
The youth had appeared out of nowhere, his white dopo fluttering in the wind. He stood a short distance away, watching the carnage with a detached gaze.
So-wol!
So you came after all.
I had hoped you wouldn't.
Yet, a surge of relief washed over him. In a fight like this, he would take any help he could get. But that relief was quickly swallowed by pity.
What could a single second-rate martial artist possibly do in this fierce slaughter? He feared this brilliant child would only be broken for nothing.
As Lee Yu-baek shook his head in despair—
Whoosh!
Yeon So-wol vanished.
His white dopo—shed in an instant—fluttered through the air before drifting slowly to the ground.
What?!
Lee Yu-baek nearly screamed. Where did he go?
He couldn't believe his eyes. No matter how exhausted I am...
Yeon So-wol was a martial artist who had only reached the Breath of Smoke and Clouds.
...How did I lose track of him?
Lee Yu-baek frantically scanned the field, searching for the boy.
Thump.
He couldn't see So-wol. All he saw was a member of the White Dragon Gang collapsing as if his strings had been cut. The inner disciple from the Pungryu Martial Arts Hall who had been fighting the man looked on in bewilderment.
Where is he?
Lee Yu-baek’s eyes swept the field again.
Thump. Thump.
Bandits collapsed one after another, falling like puppets with severed lines.
Yeon So-wol was still nowhere to be seen.
It was a chaotic, desperate melee. The prolonged battle had pushed everyone past their limits, forcing them to draw on their final reserves of strength. Their Qi senses had been dulled to the extreme. They could only focus on the blades flashing before their eyes, with no energy left to spare for their surroundings.
Lee Yu-baek finally understood and let out a ragged sigh.
Right. This situation was...
What he learned from Young Miss Eun-yeong!
It was the perfect environment for an assassin to run wild.
*
Fire Phase.
The Fire Phase was the key.
When his feet touched the earth, he momentarily adjusted his Fire Phase to increase his body weight. But the process was never abrupt. Like a compressing spring, he gradually increased his mass, pressing firmly into the ground to generate explosive force. Then, at the final moment of kicking off, he inverted the Fire Phase to make his body as light as possible.
But he couldn't simply be "light."
Just as a piece of paper flutters uselessly no matter how hard it is thrown, simply reducing his weight would actually kill his speed. The secret lay in keeping his center of gravity heavy while making the periphery of his body weightless.
It required an incredibly delicate manipulation of the Fire Phase. It was grueling, but the results were sweet.
When he kicked off the ground, leaning his body forward with his center of gravity tightly packed—
Fwoosh!
The sound of his footsteps vanished. Even without using True Fire to manipulate the harmony of Qi, the sound disappeared as if he had.
Yeon So-wol had already shed his dopo, revealing form-fitting martial robes beneath. There was no rustling of fabric to betray him.
He cut through the wind. Sometimes, he merged with it.
By making his body as light as possible and spreading his arms, he became like a sail, embracing the currents. He was taut like a full balloon, his surface as slick as ice. He leaned into the wind, gliding as if he were skating on frozen water.
His eyes ceaselessly tracked his enemies. His Qi sense swept over the surroundings like a tidal wave.
Where is their focus?
Where are the blind spots their minds haven't reached?
He heard it again. The sound of his enemies' beating hearts. The rhythm of muscles contracting, the cadence of breath filling and emptying lungs.
What were all these sounds saying?
They were a rhythm. A rhythm that created "beats" between movements, like the split-second blink of an eye. Yeon So-wol rode the off-beat, striking in the unexpected silence between those pulses.
Here. Here. Strike. Turn. Hit that one over there.
Blocked? Then I'll take this one first and circle back...
He plotted his path. When a variable arose, he corrected it and plotted a new one. And another. Moment by moment, he advanced along the optimal route—a path that allowed him to brush past everyone without being detected by anyone.
Sometimes leaning on the wind, sometimes piercing through it, he drew his trajectory.
Thump, thump.
Enemies collapsed.
Take down the small fry first. Hang In-woo is last.
His goal was to remain a ghost until the very end.
Hiding the power of the Heavenly Killing Star? He didn't care about that anymore. The spectators had fled long ago. He was going to kill every enemy here anyway.
All that would remain were his allies. If he couldn't trust the people who had bled alongside him, what could he possibly accomplish?
He would gladly use the power of the Heavenly Killing Star. It allowed him to be stealthier. Faster. If he could kill as he passed without even the whistle of a swinging sword, he would be no different from a passing breeze.
To kill one more enemy faster. To save one more ally. He focused only on that.
Fwhoooosh!
Momentarily making his entire body weightless, he caught the wind like a kite, and—whip!—Yeon So-wol changed direction mid-air. Someone's gaze fell on the spot where he had just been, but there was already nothing there but empty air.
*
A ghost was roaming the field. A ghost named Yeon So-wol.
"Huh...?"
"Wait...?"
People began to feel a sense of unease, a moment too late.
"He's... dead?"
A disciple of the Severing Sword Sect, who was about to strike a bandit from behind, discovered his target was already a corpse. He had only looked away for a heartbeat. In that instant, the man had died. Goosebumps prickled his skin.
Meanwhile—
"Keuk!"
A Mount Cheonro bandit with a sword in his side felt a sense of bewilderment even through the agony.
How? My ally was holding this position.
As he collapsed, his dying eyes saw the body of a fellow bandit who had been fighting valiantly just a moment before. There wasn't even a visible wound. A chill ran through him.
What in the world...
It all happened in a flash. Blink, and the battle lines of Mount Cheonro and the White Dragon Gang crumbled. Glance away, and they shattered again.
"Wait. Just a minute—"
A bandit who sensed something was wrong looked around, only to collapse with a heavy thump.
So-wol's movements were so sublime that many failed to grasp the situation even when they saw an enemy die right before their eyes. One man swung his sword with all his might to parry a heavy downward slash—
Claaang!
But the enemy's sword flew uselessly through the air. The blade, which had looked so heavy, had no force behind it. Flustered, the man widened his vision just in time to see a pale, shadow-like figure brush past. The enemy before him slowly crumpled to the ground.
"Wh-what was that?"
Exclamations of bewilderment erupted across the field.
But not everyone missed him. Even for someone like Yeon So-wol, it was impossible to deceive the eyes of every master in such a chaotic melee. The more skilled among them caught fleeting glimpses of the phantom.
Mo Cheong was one of them.
Yeon So-wol?
Whoosh!
A tall youth, moving as if gliding on the wind, brushed past his vision. Whenever he made a sharp turn, his half-tied hair scattered in the air. The red Sajo cord at his waist drew a half-moon, its tassels flying like crimson streaks.
Wherever Yeon So-wol passed, an enemy invariably slumped to the ground.
Mo Cheong swallowed hard. Can a person die that easily?
Without a single drop of blood spattering. Without a single sound of cutting air. Without even putting visible force into the strikes. Without the body even staggering back from the impact. Could a person truly die just from being brushed past?
Goosebumps erupted over Mo Cheong's skin.
Yeon So-wol ran alone and aloof through the slaughter. There wasn't a single drop of blood on him. He was carving away the bandits of Mount Cheonro and the men of the White Dragon Gang like a master chef stripping meat from a bone.
"You... you BASTARD!!!!"
Finally, Hang In-woo realized the scale of the disaster. He was so shocked that the fine hairs on his body stood on end.
Since when...?
He had been keeping a constant watch on the battle. But in a brief window, the entire battlefield had collapsed. Everywhere he looked, there were only corpses. He couldn't even tell how many had died.
He frantically swept his Qi sense across the area. And then he saw him.
Thump. Thump.
Yeon So-wol, at that very moment, felling two more members of the White Dragon Gang. Yeon So-wol, sweeping through the battlefield like a gale, reaping two or three lives in a single breath.
"How is that brat...!"
Hang In-woo was so enraged his pointed beard trembled.
Wuuuuung!
His broadsword let out a low, vibrating cry.
"That's far enough!!!"
BOOM!
Stomping on the ground, he charged toward Yeon So-wol like a starving tiger. Through the harmony of Qi, his body defied nature, accelerating endlessly. Before Yeon So-wol could even react, Hang In-woo closed the distance as if folding space itself and brought his broadsword down in a lethal arc.
It was a strike that no second-rate martial artist could ever hope to block.
But then—
CRAAACK!
"What?"
Yeon So-wol hadn't even drawn his sword. He simply caught the blade with his bare hands and shattered it.
He broke my sword with his bare hands? A second-rate...?
It was impossible. But Hang In-woo reacted with the instincts of a veteran. Letting go of the useless hilt, he kicked off the ground to drive in deeper and thrust out his right hand. His eyes glinted with murderous intent.
"Come to think of it, this was all your fault! If it weren't for you! If only you didn't exist!"
Wuuuuung!
The fabric of his sleeves billowed. The air shimmered with a heat haze. In an instant, a single breath was compressed into a fraction of a second.
In the opening where Yeon So-wol was still recovering from breaking the sword, Hang In-woo struck. A palm imbued with brutal force emission—enough to turn So-wol's internal organs to pulp—surged forward.
But Yeon So-wol's eyes remained placid. His pupils were fixed on the approaching palm until the very end. He saw through the world—and Hang In-woo—as if it were a flat sheet of paper, clearly perceiving the thread of fate rising from the man.
CRUNCH!
Hang In-woo’s palm plunged into Yeon So-wol’s chest.
Stagger—
In that same heartbeat, Hang In-woo’s knees buckled. Life and strength drained from his body as if a plug had been pulled.
THWACK!
Yeon So-wol was sent flying backward by the terrifying force of the strike. Even as he tumbled through the air, he managed to throw his sword. The blade shot out in a straight line from its scabbard, piercing the air before embedding itself deep in Hang In-woo’s brow.
THUD! SHHHHHHK!
Yeon So-wol flew over fifteen feet before bouncing hard off the ground and sliding to a stop. Every eye was on him.
And so—
Thump—
They were late to notice Hang In-woo, who staggered for a moment with a sword in his forehead before collapsing into the dirt.
"...Hang In-woo is dead?"
"In a single exchange?"
"What kind of technique was that...?"
The exchange had happened so suddenly and stealthily that no one had seen it clearly. In truth, Hang In-woo had died the instant his palm hit Yeon So-wol, killed by the reflexive power of the Heavenly Killing Star. But for the sake of misdirection, So-wol had thrown his sword while being blown back. The effect was perfect.
No one could be certain how Hang In-woo had died. Only the result was clear. Hang In-woo had been slain by Yeon So-wol.
"N-no way..."
The remaining members of the White Dragon Gang and the Mount Cheonro bandits were so terrified they staggered back, their wills broken.
"Uwoooaaah!"
The disciples of the Pungryu Martial Arts Hall and the Severing Sword Sect let out a roar of joy that surged from their dantians, charging at the remaining stragglers.
"Ugh... Aaargh!"
Their morale shattered, the enemies couldn't even flee. They were simply crushed and torn apart, swept away by a tidal wave of vengeance. The final death screams echoed plaintively before the field fell silent.
*
"..."
Yeon So-wol staggered to his feet. A sharp, high-pitched ringing screamed in his ears. His vision was dark, as if a heavy curtain had been drawn over his eyes.
He looked out at the battlefield. Blinking with effort, he saw that the fighting was mostly over. He’d been spotted by Hang In-woo before he could finish off the grunts, but the result was acceptable.
Acceptable... is that the right word?
Yeon So-wol felt a hollow sense of relief, but then he glanced to his side and froze. Of all places, he had landed right next to Jeon Tae-gwang.
Jeon Tae-gwang, who had died with his eyes wide open.
"..."
Yeon So-wol was speechless. He staggered over and collapsed to his knees beside the body.
"Tae-gwang."
He called the name in a raspy, choked voice. He had thought, perhaps, they could have become friends. Even if that had just been his own delusion.
Yeon So-wol heavily lifted a hand and closed Jeon Tae-gwang's eyes.
"Rest now."
Feeling utterly drained, he sat on the blood-soaked ground. He felt dizzy. The sky. The earth. This damn Jianghu.
Hang In-woo, who was supposed to be a sworn brother to Lee Yu-baek, had betrayed him. Eun-yeong, who had taught him how to walk in silence, had been killed by Seo Mu-ryang. Jeon Tae-gwang, who had helped him master the Willow Leaf Step through their sparring, lay dead here.
Only Yeon So-wol had survived, using a combination of everything he had learned from them to kill Hang In-woo.
What was there to say?
Memories reeled backward in a jumbled mess. The day he first learned Qinggong. The cup of wine he shared with Lee Yu-baek on the roof. The filthy, smelling streets of the Central Plains. The satisfying weight in his hand when he knocked out Resentful Dog. The man who had run to him, drenched in sweat, to deliver the news. Eun-yeong's small hand slapping the back of his head. The tens of thousands of lanterns floating on the sky and the river.
"It really was... a magnificent world."
And yet.
The senseless, vulgar masses. The people who lived only to betray. The martial artists of the Jianghu, for whom hypocrisy was a daily ritual. And here, now—a battlefield where countless people lay as meat.
The White Dragon Gang was annihilated. How many had died from the Severing Sword Sect and the Pungryu Martial Arts Hall? Why did it have to be this way?
"...And it's also so fucked up."
What will you leave behind?
In this dazzling river and lake?
In this Jianghu, so dazzling it blurs the eyes with tears, so fucked up it makes you dizzy?
Yeon So-wol staggered to his feet again. As the ringing in his ears subsided, the cries of the people around him finally broke through.
"Mu-hyeok! Mu-hyeok!!!"
Lee Yu-baek was screaming. Yeon So-wol's mind snapped into focus as if he'd been slapped.
"Father!"
He rushed over to find Kang Mu-hyeok coughing up blood, unconscious. Lee Yu-baek's first disciple. One of the Four Gentlemen of Pungryu, the One Smile Sword.
Yeon So-wol quickly checked his breath. It was faint, but there.
"I'll take him to a physician."
Yeon So-wol fumbled in his robes and pulled out the Golden Wound Medicine he had received from Chu Jin-hyeok. He slathered it on the wounds before hoisting the man onto his back.
"No, So-wol. I'll—"
Before Lee Yu-baek could finish, Yeon So-wol was already pushing his Flying Wind Drift and Willow Leaf Step to their absolute limits. This time, he didn't care about the sound.
Paaaaang!
Tearing through the air, Yeon So-wol shot off, disappearing into the distance in an instant. He was moving so fast that no one present could possibly hope to follow him.
Lee Yu-baek, who had started to give chase, stopped and stared blankly.
"His Fire Phase is already at that level... Just like before."
Was this what an immortal descended from the heavens looked like? A hellish battle that would have left most of them dead even in victory had been overturned in a single moment. All because one man—a mere second-rate martial artist named Yeon So-wol—had joined the fray.
What kind of blessing was it that I met that child?
Lee Yu-baek let out a long, weary sigh and sank to the ground.
"Master."
"Master."
The blood-soaked Seon Je-hun and Mo Cheong came to his side. Lee Yu-baek spoke in an exhausted voice.
"Thankfully, it doesn't look like So-wol will be late. So we... let's clean up the battlefield first."
His bitter gaze fell upon the bodies of Shin Ja-eon and Jeon Tae-gwang. The Great, Middle, and Small Severing Swords were gathered there, weeping openly.
"..."
Lee Yu-baek gritted his teeth. So many had died. The Black Path forces in Xinxing County were gone. It was no exaggeration to say that sixty percent of the county's martial world had perished here today.
It was red. It reeked of iron and death.
On the last day of April, upon the blood-soaked earth, petals fell again and again.