Chapter 8
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Destruction - 2
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The village burned for a long time. Exhausted screams echoed weakly over the ridge, sinking faintly beneath the roar of the flames. Black remnants ascended toward the sky, abandoning the cries. Soot, resentment, and charred flesh mingled with lingering coughs and tears, turning into black smoke.
The Huangfu family head's moniker was the Iron Blood Fist King, and the chill of blood and iron pierced the nose amid the smoke.
Myriad Ghosts Scholar Haryung unfurled his fan. That blaze was likely as much a warning to the Dragon Star Clan as anything. The acrid stench wafting from the fan was overwhelmingly pungent.
"What a shame."
"What is?"
"I was just thinking we might've snagged one or two peasants if we hadn't rushed up the mountain so fast. What do you think, boss?"
"If our clever little brother says so, then that's that. Want me to grab one now?"
"No need. Seizing the advantage of striking first is far more crucial."
He cast a sidelong glance at the three men leading the way. The Jiangming Three Evils, were they called? Despite their utterly pathetic skills—hardly fit for Dragon Star Clan entry—they'd begged their way in. It was thanks to the intelligence they'd provided that the group had reached this place first, even without the Palm Treasure Blade.
On the path to the shrine, the clear blue sky suddenly clouded over. A deep rumble sounded where the dark clouds met the smoke. Dank humidity began to cling to their skin, bit by bit. Hurry, Haryung shook his fan. Under that icy gaze, the men quickened their pace.
Someone muttered that they should avoid the rain.
Plop.
It started as a downpour. Drip-drop. Plop. What began with a few small droplets spread into a torrent in an instant. The wild grass sprouting between the stone slabs shivered in the rain, and the patter filled the shrine's silence.
The rain was impartial. Water splashed everywhere. On the weathered pillars, the rafters the Village Chief always grumbled needed replacing, the statue of the Mountain Immortal... and on the body of the prostrated girl. It poured down relentlessly. Blood and heat were washing away from her. The transparent sheets turned red before fading faintly into the puddles.
Only when thunder rumbled did the girl finally come to her senses. Her whole body was numb from lying facedown so long. Looking up, the statue's massive eyes seemed fixed right on her, making her shudder faintly.
She couldn't even remember how she'd gotten here. Gangil had collapsed... and after that, nothing. When she came to, she was in the shrine, prostrated before the Mountain Immortal. An old man's voice echoed in her mind.
「The Mountain Immortal must have had his reasons.」
Someone had said that when her parents died. Everything the Mountain Immortal does has a purpose—he sees things we can't. The girl had bowed her head at those words. Please help us. Please help...
Those who remain must go on living.
The Village Chief's words resurfaced suddenly. Martial artists were rounding people up indiscriminately. Then she had to hurry to Jiangming and spread the news. Woodcutter Jang had said the Huangfu Clan might be protecting folks from the wildfire. They were heroes, unlike the cold-blooded Tian Clan. Amid the crushing sorrow, the girl pushed herself to her feet.
That was when it happened. Urgent footsteps sounded beyond the curtain of rain. Not just one or two.
Were those wicked martial artists who snatched people coming? The ones who'd tried to kill her earlier, chasing her all the way to the shrine? Fear jolted through her. She scanned the surroundings in a panic, but there were no good hiding spots inside. The girl dashed to the thick bushes by the wall. Please don't let them find me, she prayed silently. Moments later, two men burst into the shrine.
They were rough-looking thugs, their faces crisscrossed with horizontal and vertical sword scars.
"Sniff sniff, over by the door. Smells like something fragrant, right?"
"Quit bragging about your nose and search the shrine. The commander's coming soon."
"Hold on. It's definitely the scent of a beauty."
Bird Pattern Viper Master Zhang Yi, renowned for his keen nose, flared his nostrils as he prowled the shrine. There was a faint papery smell somewhere too. He was focusing his senses amid the damp rain when—smack! His companion, Night Pig Wen Huaping, cuffed him across the head.
"Beauty, my ass! You think a pretty girl holes up in a creepy shrine like this? Already possessed?"
"Damn it. If there really is one, I'll buy you a meal."
"Hell yeah—I'll treat you to Jinxiang at Qingping House three times over. Now shut your trap and look for any Huangfu Clan bastards."
"Think there are any?"
There wouldn't be. The Huangfu Clan had set out later than them, and no one was left in the village. Some dead, some burned to crisps—it was obvious. No one would be lying in wait at the shrine. Zhang Yi chuckled as three more thugs kicked open the main gate with a bang.
"So, what do you think, little bro?"
"Huff huff, brothers. I don't, huff huff, know."
"Why are you so winded? That rough on you?"
"No, sir."
The Jiangming Three Evils were at their wits' end. They hadn't rested properly since two evenings ago. Today they'd even scaled the mountain—everyone should be dead on their feet, but not a single Dragon Star Clan member showed fatigue. Every time they tried slacking off while guiding them to the shrine, Myriad Ghosts Scholar's cold eyes pinned them, forcing them to summon strength from their nursing days. They'd have collapsed if left alone. Instead, the three stood ramrod straight through sheer will.
"We're fine! Just give the orders!"
"Good. You there... what was your name again?"
"Zhang Chunsam, sir!"
"Zhang Hao, sir!"
"Zhang Dongmal, sir!"
"Right. Zhang Chunsam—you check inside the shrine for stragglers. You two, scout the perimeter."
"Yes, sir!"
The eldest of the Jiangming Three Evils shot into the shrine like an arrow. The other two grumbled as they half-heartedly poked around outside. It was less a search and more gossip. Rustle. They shuffled slowly, pretending to rummage through bushes.
Then thud—they plopped down in front of one. Zhang Dongmal spoke up.
"Ugh, I'm dying. Let's rest a bit first."
"You too, hyung? Feels like I'm gonna drop dead. And Chunsam hyung's freakout—what a mess."
"Tell me about it. He needs to cool that temper. If he hadn't started swinging at the inn, we wouldn't be rushing like this."
Rustle. The moment the last words left his mouth, a faint sound came from the bushes behind them. But no one noticed. They were too exhausted.
It was raining, their clothes were soaked, and this spot under the big tree was perfect shelter. They wouldn't have budged even for a few wild beasts. Naturally, it never crossed their minds that a girl might be hiding in the dense thicket.
The inn brawl. If their brother hadn't gone berserk with his sword at the inn, they wouldn't be in such a hurry. All their griping—that his hot temper was to blame for their misery—stabbed sharply at the girl's heart.
She clamped her mouth shut, held her breath, feeling their words pierce her chest like arrows. The quiet sorrow crushed her anew. It felt like a boulder on her chest, suffocating. Her fists clenched involuntarily. Nails bit painfully into her palms.
Why did they kill him?
Why did Gangil have to die? Was that the Mountain Immortal's will too? There had to be a reason. Desperate to know, the girl inched closer. Their voices grew louder.
"Is whatever the Flash Guest left behind that big a deal?"
"Dunno. Once the boss takes his cut, maybe some scraps for us. Then even Chae Seon... heh heh."
"Forget Chae Seon—even the top courtesan on Bull Mountain could be under us. Alright, that's enough. Let's head back."
Flash Guest—an unfamiliar name.
Yet those two claimed it was that important. As they stood and turned, the exposed backs of Zhang Hao and Zhang Dongmal came into view. The girl memorized the receding crunch of their footsteps.
The razor-sharp swords at their waists lingered like brands. Imagining those blades cleaving through flesh made her fingertips go numb. She wanted to tell them how much pain Gangil must have felt. But...
「You live.」
But she couldn't.
Gangil's final words circled in her mind like a driven nail. His cooling body heat, the faint stroke of his hand on her back. The old man's voice insisting the Mountain Immortal had reasons clutched at her ankles. She couldn't lower the hand from her mouth. Instead, she glared at the departing Zhang Hao and Dongmal through ragged breaths.
The rain let up.
More people gathered at the shrine. Murmurs rose, followed by crashes from inside—smashing furniture, raucous shouts, heavy thuds. They were tearing the place apart, pounding every corner. Clearly hunting for something.
It wasn't until about half an hour later that the group's leader finally appeared. A man in gaudy robes embroidered with golden dragons from head to toe, accompanied by a young fellow languidly waving a fan made of bird feathers.