Chapter 13
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Strongest Squad (3)
Vanguard appeared exactly one month later.
"How's your body?"
"I'm fine."
The warden even jumped to his feet to demonstrate.
He looked perfectly fine on the outside. But he hadn't removed his splint yet. His bones weren't fully set. He could move, but anything quick or vigorous was out of the question.
"And you? Got some good rest?"
"Me? I wasn't hurt at all, so yeah. Washed off that rotten stink and slept like a baby... Heh heh!"
The Fox of Bireung Mountain chuckled slyly.
"What about the other one?"
Vanguard scanned the area for Four Thousand Four.
"He's inside... Ha! That guy's something else. The Vanguard shows up after a whole month, and he can't even come out and say hello? I'll go drag him out quick."
"No need."
"Pardon?"
Vanguard stopped the Fox of Bireung Mountain from moving and headed into the thatched hut himself.
Four Thousand Four lay on a bamboo bed.
He didn't sit up even as Vanguard entered. He didn't turn his body either—just lay there facing the wall, utterly still.
"How's the body holding up?"
Vanguard asked as he sat on a chair.
"Why do you care about my condition?"
Four Thousand Four replied with a mocking sneer.
"Because I'm the one who's going to use you."
"That's a laugh."
"Oh? You think so? Guess declaring ownership over you sounds ridiculous to you. But it doesn't strike me that way at all."
"Kill me."
"What was that?"
"You remember what you said before you left. If I hadn't recovered in a month, you'd abandon me. So do it. Abandon me."
Silence fell.
Neither Vanguard nor Four Thousand Four spoke. Vanguard just stared at Four Thousand Four's back, while Four Thousand Four stared at the wall. Or maybe not even that.
A long while later, Vanguard finally spoke.
"Everyone in the Nineteen Hells is the worst of the worst. And I'm no saint for dragging scum like you out to use. But... to a guy like me who's already off his rocker, you're on a whole other level."
"..."
"Four Thousand Four... What difference does swapping that 'four' for 'heavenly' make? This isn't some kid's game."
"..."
"The Warden tried like hell to stop me from pulling you out."
"Should've listened to him."
"He said you're the type to dye the world red with blood. That true?"
"Probably."
Four Thousand Four's shoulder twitched.
Vanguard had only said the word 'blood,' but Four Thousand Four reacted like he'd caught its scent for real.
Vanguard continued calmly.
"He said no one could control you. That's why they opened the Life-Death Trial—to keep you locked away. Heh! Truth be told... I had my doubts after it ended too. Wondered if I could handle you."
"You done? I'm sleepy. If you're not here to kill me, get out. I want some rest."
Vanguard ignored Four Thousand Four's words.
"You still don't get it."
"..."
"I said I regretted it after the Life-Death Trial. Doubted if I could control you. And yet here I am, saying this to your face. Doesn't that mean I can control you?"
"Prove it. I'm not stopping you."
"The Heavenly Annihilation Division didn't kill you. That means they had a way to control you. And they don't hesitate to execute uncontrollables."
"..."
Four Thousand Four froze. His whole body went rigid, like a statue.
"Heh! Finally catching on, huh? From the moment you stepped out of Thunder Prison, you can't die even if you want to, and you can't live even if you try. No matter what you want."
"Bullshit."
"Is it? Hahaha!"
Vanguard burst into loud laughter as he stood.
He pulled a letter from his bosom and tossed it casually onto the table.
"Read it and decide. If your mind doesn't change after that, I'll kill you clean."
Vanguard strode out, his words ringing with finality.
A single letter on the table.
A deed claiming ownership of his body and soul.
He hadn't read it yet... couldn't guess its contents... doubted if they really had a way to control him... but if the Heavenly Annihilation Division was behind it, it had to be real.
He clutched his head with both hands, wrestling with the dilemma.
He didn't want to go out into the world.
Just as Vanguard said, these people weren't normal.
They were dragging out murderers the world had cast away, putting them back to work.
Vanguard's jobs always ended in blood.
Reading that letter would mean following Vanguard—ninety percent chance—and killing again.
'Damn it all!'
He tore at his hair.
For a while, life had been peaceful... No sunlight, no good food, the stench assaulting his nose... but abandoning the world had made every day bearable, even good.
- Hahaha! Listen up, Four Thousand Four. It's not just your body I own. Your soul's mine too.
A strange echo rang in his ears.
It sounded like Vanguard, or the Warden. Or maybe the world itself speaking. Their words shook his soul.
The woman who hadn't shown her face in a month and the tall man appeared.
They were dressed for a long journey, like travelers setting out far away.
Simple packs on their backs, gear split between two donkeys.
Vanguard spoke.
"Stock up on any medicine you need. I know you're not fully healed, so don't hold back. Take everything. Once we're on the road, no resupply."
The warden headed to the storehouse without a word, grabbing medicines as if it were obvious.
The Fox of Bireung Mountain followed, stuffing whatever he could grab into his pack.
'Small and potent ones...'
No resupply on the road, he'd said. Medicine or otherwise, it all had to come from here. No stopping at apothecaries midway. If money could buy it, he wouldn't have been so absolute.
Vanguard would take paths devoid of people.
He knew well the routes secretive travelers took for specific missions.
Days on the road, and not a soul in sight.
Four Thousand Four emerged from the hut.
Vanguard smiled faintly, as if he'd expected the choice.
"Made up your mind?"
"How long do I have to sell you my body and soul?"
"Until you die."
"Ruthless bastard."
"Heh heh heh! Regretting not dying in Thunder Prison?"
"Nah. Even rolling in shit's better than the afterlife. No matter how brutal life gets, the living always have it over the dead."
"Hahaha! Exactly."
"One request."
"What?"
"Don't order me to kill people."
Vanguard stared hard at Four Thousand Four.
What a joke. A guy tossed out for too much murder, now swearing off killing? The same bastard who slaughtered ten inmates to save his own skin?
His expression gave away his thoughts.
But Vanguard didn't voice them. Four Thousand Four read his mind but stayed silent too.
The answer came anyway.
"Don't order you to kill? Then what's the point of keeping you? Heh heh! You're a killing tool. That's why I pulled you out."
Four Thousand Four looked up at the sky.
A body and soul eternally bound.
Vanguard had sealed it with a single sheet of paper. If he hadn't read it, maybe. But now, no defying it. Perfect slavery.
Vanguard was right.
From the moment he left Thunder Prison, body and soul lost their freedom.
He said,
"Did they get letters like mine too?"
Four Thousand Four glanced at the woman and man leading the two donkeys.
Vanguard shook his head.
"Heavenly Annihilation Division doesn't need letters."
"I see."
Four Thousand Four nodded knowingly.
Breathing the same air, eating the same food, moving together didn't make them equals.
They were masters; he was the slave.
Even the Fox of Bireung Mountain, blissfully packing herbs in the storehouse, would soon be a slave.
The fatty warden—he'd crossed the Life-Death Trial with the Fox of Bireung Mountain, shared life and death. But from this moment, their status differed. He was master; the fox, slave.
Two slaves in this group.
Masters would work slaves hard. In death traps, slaves went first.
He shouldn't have read the letter.
Reading it made slavery inevitable. Until the moment of death.
Vanguard asked,
"All your questions answered?"
"Yeah."
"What should I call you? Stick with Four Thousand Four?"
Vanguard grinned, utterly pleased.
Four Thousand Four felt uneasy. Slave until death—until the dying breath.
"Call me whatever."
"Fox, scout the path."
"Y-yes? Got it."
The Fox of Bireung Mountain became Fox.
He hated the nickname. A man called Fox? But he couldn't defy Vanguard. Defiance meant exile, then death.
He was useless to them.
Weak in martial arts... Pickpocketing? Sure, but they wouldn't need that. Nor dice games for cash.
They wanted killers; he was far from one.
So he obeyed every order. Desperate to stay in their good graces.
Fox? Whatever.
"You'll always scout ahead from now on. Remember that."
"Understood. But where to?"
Vanguard handed him a map.
Fox took it.
A large map of Shaanxi Province, but not overly detailed.
"I'll give our current position. After this, mark it yourself. I'll tell you the destination; you find the fastest route there."
"Ha! Don't worry about that."
'Finding paths? Easy. Thought it'd be killing, but this is nothing.'
But Vanguard's next words flipped his thinking.
"Fail to find the fastest route twice... and you're gone."
"A-ah, got it."
Fox tensed up sharply.
Vanguard turned to the warden.
"You take the rear."
"Understood."
The warden knew his role before the words were out.
Volume Six was defense. Guard the rear against pursuers. In worst cases, be the shield for the others' escape.
Volume Six died the most.
Not just Vanguard's squad. Every unit lost rearguards fastest.
The warden accepted it calmly.
Vanguard ordered Fox,
"Head to Samcho. Fastest route, but no people. A regular guide would've crossed in two days. Let's see what you've got, Fox of Bireung Mountain."