Chapter 17
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Hidden Sword Hunt (2)
“Looks like we’re pulling an all-nighter. What’s taking so damn long just to fetch one sword!”
Fox grumbled.
Vanguard, Jaja, and Hanbi, as if they’d expected this, began spreading dry grass on the ground.
They were preparing their bedding.
“Aren’t we eating?”
Hanbi pointed at the donkey.
A pouch of jerky hung from the donkey. He knew it well—they’d been eating nothing but jerky the whole way up.
“Jerky again today?”
Fox whined.
He couldn’t comprehend their actions at all. Nor could he fathom why Four Thousand Four couldn’t snag a single sword.
Killers had their tells.
They fixated on their targets. Once they set their sights on someone to kill, they poured everything into it.
That went for ordinary folk too.
But killers added one more layer: their own safety.
They prioritized self-preservation even more than slaying the target.
Safety first, focus second.
Even if the perfect chance to strike arose, they’d pull back instantly if it threatened their well-being.
Of course, they took risks sometimes—minor gambles to take down the target. But even then, safety had to be at least ninety percent assured before they committed.
This guy was the same.
He’d fight tooth and nail when cornered, but otherwise, he always put safety first.
The village was dangerous.
Fox hadn’t sensed it. Killing intent flickered everywhere, yet he noticed nothing.
It was a tiger’s den. Step in carelessly, and you’d get devoured.
Fox wasn’t worth capturing, so they’d sent him packing... and if he went back, a sword would fly straight at him. Those killers could sense a fighter by instinct.
What sword is he supposed to find? Doesn’t seem like they want some prized blade stolen.
He pondered deeply.
In truth... he had only one real option. He’d known it for ages. But he didn’t want to do it. That’s why he was hunting for the sword—hoping to avoid running into anyone.
Night deepened.
His worries deepened with it.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
The rooster crowed.
Dawn was breaking. Light shimmered in the eastern sky, soon dyeing the world red.
Sunset glowed crimson, calm and soothing.
The morning sun blazed scarlet, brimming with life.
Vanguard, the woman, and Hanbi had slept soundly through the long night, without a single stir.
They always slept deeply.
This was their fourth night since leaving the prison outpost, and he’d never seen them suffer through a sleepless campout. They always dropped off fast, slept hard, and rose at dawn to greet the sun.
The ones who hadn’t slept were Fox and Wild Boar.
Fox couldn’t rest—he had to bolt the moment Four Thousand Four returned. Wild Boar couldn’t stretch out either; he had to guard the rear.
“Ahh! Slept like a rock.”
Hanbi rose and stretched languidly.
He splashed water from his leather pouch over his face like a cat washing. Then he pulled out jerky and chomped away.
The woman rose and began her morning breathing exercises.
Vanguard didn’t stir. The morning chill must’ve gotten to him; he’d pulled his blanket clean over his head.
“He’s really taking his sweet time.”
Fox grumbled.
Still, they had their tasks. Even without Four Thousand Four, they had to tend to themselves—reattach the wound dressings, brew some medicinal soup if possible.
“When do you think he’ll show?”
Fox asked Hanbi.
Hanbi was a cold one, his eyes always glinting with icy sharpness. Yet Fox flashed a friendly grin anyway.
“We wait.”
Hanbi tossed out the curt reply and kept chewing his jerky.
Chilly as ever, just like his looks.
“Heh! Didn’t spot anything from down below?”
Wild Boar jumped in for him.
Fox shook his head vigorously.
Truth was, Fox didn’t have the luxury to idle through breakfast. With Four Thousand Four AWOL, he planned to double-check the escape route he’d scouted.
Mountain top’ll give a different view, right? If Four Thousand Four comes back... he won’t stroll in easy. Village has a sword and fighters—they’ll chase him for sure. Then I’ll see it. Just go quick and back.
“I’m heading up top for a bit!”
Fox bolted up the slope before he’d even finished.
The woman and Hanbi didn’t ask where, didn’t worry he’d flee. They just let him do his thing.
No sword in sight.
The village stirred with morning. Folks headed to paddies and fields, but no warriors, no blades. No one among them carried anything resembling a weapon.
Yet he knew. The village was dangerous.
He stretched out flat on his back.
Body extended... limbs splayed... gazing at the sky for a moment.
Sky-gazing romance? Hardly. His body had stiffened from hours of immobility. Just loosening up.
He bent and straightened his legs repeatedly.
Rotated his arms.
Hoo... haa... hoo... haa...
Long, thin breaths.
Fresh air sank deep into his gut, reaching his toes. Then he expelled every last bit, purging his body clean.
Even without inner energy, true breathing worked wonders. The more, the better.
He kept up the light movements for nearly half a shichen.
Then sat up again.
No choice. If I gotta move, I move.
He’d finally resolved to act. Staying put wouldn’t uncover the sword.
The only path into the village was a narrow trail.
Too tight for a cart, barely wide enough for two abreast.
Really the only way?
Mountain villages had paths galore. Unused ones, anyway.
He circled the peak to slip in from the rear.
He’d eyed it earlier.
Mountain hamlets had their seasons. But night meant just two: summer and winter.
Even late spring, they stoked fires. From early fall to late spring, nightly fuel was a must.
Firewood stacks towered like hills at every home.
He approached one and lit it without hesitation. The whole pile.
“Huh? Fire?”
Wild Boar squinted at the flames.
Smoke billowed from the village rear. Nothing odd moments ago... but the blaze was fierce. Dry wood caught fast, flames roaring skyward in seconds.
No one in the village. All out in fields and paddies.
No one to douse it. They’d come running at the sight, but too late to quench. Best they could do was cordon it off before it swallowed the whole place.
“He’s begun.”
The woman said.
“Fire, though. Didn’t see that coming. Won’t that make finding the sword tougher?”
Cold light flickered in Hanbi’s eyes.
“He knows it’s a tiger den.”
“No one ever torched the place before?”
Wild Boar joined in.
The woman eyed him.
“Short on words?”
“Apologies. Allow me to rephrase: I’m curious if anyone’s ever set a fire there before.”
Wild Boar cupped his fists, just like with Vanguard.
“No need to go that far.”
The woman was already gazing at the village.
Flames raged. Surging as if to engulf everything.
“No one ever has. Most just strolled in casual as Fox.”
Hanbi answered for her.
Four Thousand Four’s mission: find the sword. But fire drew every eye. Villagers would swarm. Sure, they’d be frantic with the blaze... but spot a stranger amid the chaos, and he’d be pegged as the arsonist.
Plus, warriors lurked there.
Guarding the sword was priority one. They knew better than to let anything distract them.
Four Thousand Four set the fire to split their focus... but the sword guardians didn’t budge. If anything, the flames sharpened their vigilance.
Looked like Four Thousand Four had misplayed.
Fire everywhere, yet no extinguishers from close by.
Some rushed from the fields, sure—villagers sprinting desperately. But folks much nearer stayed put.
He’d known they wouldn’t move.
Setting it anyway... to pinpoint their spots.
Duty-bound, they wouldn’t shift much. But danger nearby? They’d twitch, however slightly.
That was enough.
His sharp eyes swept the village. In moments, he’d clocked twelve.
Twelve in this tiny mountain hamlet. Perfectly concealed.
Death peddlers.
He scowled.
By their hiding... not your average fighters. Pro assassins. Merchants of murder, masters of killing arts.
He knew killing arts.
Used ‘em too much, too often—earned him a spot on the martial world’s most-wanted, straight to prison.
They wielded the same style. Killing arts.
Twelve in Twelve Stems Formation—a Killing Gate array. Never joined one, but he knew it. Killing Gate specialty.
Using Twelve Stems? Orthodox Killing Gate.
Spot one, spot two... the rest chained into view.
Village was off-limits. Call confirmed.
He watched the inferno a beat longer, thinking.
No time for deep thought. Quick plan, instant move. Thinking now was folly. Time to act, whatever it took.
Still, he thought.
Who’re they killing for? Or guarding?
Assassins didn’t guard. They slew.
So the sword Vanguard wanted... bait they’d hung out. Lure some fool in, then strike from all sides.
Bait at the twelve’s core.
There.
He zeroed in on one house.
All twelve converged on it. Folks inside, too—staying put while everyone else fled the fields.
Fire raging, yet no one emerged. Empty house vibes.
Nah. Someone’s there, guaranteed. Vanguard’s sword was inside. He was certain.
He checked his body and skills once more.
Twelve of ‘em. Could he brawl?
Their Twelve Stems Killing Gate array was peak defense and offense. Any approach snagged eyes. Breach it, and you didn’t escape without dropping all twelve.
Snatching bait from the heart? Tough. Even if, they’d hunt him to his dying breath.
He gauged his state precisely.
Ssst!
He moved.