Chapter 211
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Five Beasts (1)
Everyone fell silent.
They had accepted death for the sake of mourning, only for the Heavenly Annihilation Division to wipe out the mourners in return.
The faith that the Heavenly Annihilation Division's assassins had clung to was a lie.
Of course, they would confirm this fact.
They couldn't blindly trust the news from the Zhuge family and assume Jo Mun was dead. They had to see it with their own eyes... how Jo Mun had died, how they had crumbled.
But they would verify it with utmost caution.
No matter what, they couldn't let it be known that they were still alive.
"This time, I have to go."
The Vanguard said.
His expression grew stern, his words dwindled, and a cold madness gleamed in his eyes.
"Who do you plan to attack?"
Four Thousand Four asked calmly.
"There's a group called the Pine Forest Seven Sages about three hundred li away. They're reserves, but no major threat."
The Vanguard's words were a lie.
The Pine Forest Seven Sages were seven scholars dwelling in the pine groves. They each held positions mimicking the Seven Stars, so attacking one would draw the other six into perfect formation.
The Heavenly Annihilation Division had assaulted the Pine Forest Seven Sages three times and failed each time.
This wasn't an opponent the Vanguard could face alone. His desperation was palpable, but... it was impossible.
Four Thousand Four spoke.
"No more reserves."
"I'm not asking your permission. Just informing you."
"Only the Heavenly Annihilation Division assassins know who the reserves are. Nine have already been killed."
"......"
"The Heavenly Annihilation Division has likely already begun investigating this."
"Doesn't matter."
"Vanguard."
"I have a question only the Pine Forest Seven Sages can answer. Even if the answer is my death, that's fine. But if it's something else, it might just do the trick."
"I'll give you that answer."
"......?"
"I don't know what question you'll ask... but I'll answer it. How many days do you need?"
"You want me to attack you?"
"Aren't we all in this to the bitter end? Die if we die, live if we live. At least it's better than exposing ourselves by hitting the Pine Forest Seven Sages."
"Fine."
The Vanguard agreed readily.
Normally, he would have protested—how could he attack you, better to hear it from the Seven Sages directly, and so on. But right now, he desperately needed a formidable opponent.
The others didn't interfere in their exchange.
Hanbi, Jaja, Fox... they all craved strength too. It wasn't just about dying in battle anymore. If the Heavenly Annihilation Division had massacred Jo Mun, their goal was now to bring down the Division.
No room for anyone who collapsed midway.
They were growing colder by the day. No, they were already overflowing with ice.
Four Thousand Four was alone.
His sleeping spot never changed—a cramped cave where he spent nights in meditative breathing.
His routine was simple.
Apart from mealtimes, he spent most of his day walking.
For Four Thousand Four, walking was martial training.
He honed his senses in the snow blanketing the mountains. He observed life hidden beneath it. The fierce winds slicing his skin became sword rain in his mind, their texture etched into memory.
His movements were utterly basic. Yet he was always in hyper-awareness. Ready for combat anywhere, anytime, with perfect response.
Analyzing his routine, he seemed the ideal assassination target. But reconsider, and he became the hardest to strike.
After that day, the Vanguard vanished.
No one knew where he'd gone or what he was doing... Four Thousand Four continued as always, while tension hung thick in the air from the absent Vanguard.
No one intervened in their fight.
Not even Fox, who fretted over Four Thousand Four from head to toe—except this time.
The Vanguard sought an answer from the Pine Forest Seven Sages.
He was preparing a new martial art, wholly unlike what he'd used before—something that might match them. Or perhaps an ambush technique.
The ambush began.
After dinner, a tightness settled in his chest.
Bad food? No. Winter mountain fare was limited. Dead men couldn't descend to villages; they foraged everything themselves.
Hunting success was luck... some days, they peeled bark to eat.
In such straits, food poisoning was unlikely.
Yet the chest felt constricted. Like a boulder pressing down, heavy and unyielding.
Fox probably knew of such ambushes. Hanbi and Jaja might too. But they didn't ask. From now on, they had to forge ahead alone, without consultation.
'An ambush with no sensation... just like the Vanguard.'
Four Thousand Four strained to detect the Vanguard's scent amid it.
Every ambush carried human traces. Every death left human residue.
What caused this chest tightness?
Four Thousand Four didn't seek the cause. It couldn't be found. Not even if it was poison. The Vanguard had planned this for the Seven Sages.
The cause was utterly undetectable.
In other words, his ambush method was impossible to pinpoint.
He drank water. Poisoned? Infested with chest-constricting parasites?
Chasing causes turned the world into hell. No sip of water safe, no bite of meat trusted. Everything under suspicion.
Four Thousand Four focused on the effect.
How tight did it get? When did it peak?
The effect struck in instants.
He watched for those instants.
The tightness didn't linger. People assumed once it started, it dragged on endlessly—but no. It clenched, eased, clenched again.
He observed every moment.
'Huhu! So that's it.'
Four Thousand Four found the cause.
Not by seeking it... but by monitoring the phenomenon.
Killing intent!
The Vanguard was subtly emanating it.
Unconscious intent. Felt but unfelt; ignored, it crept in... like the lingering frustration of unsolved matters.
The Vanguard was near.
'Tightness from uncleanliness... then emptying the mind completely should dispel it.'
Four Thousand Four halted thoughts, gazing at the snow piled before the cave.
Focus... on the snow.
All senses locked on snow. The Vanguard's killing intent still invaded, but no room to care.
Snow, snow, snow.
Focus was total immersion.
Uneasy feelings, lukewarm sensations... ignored entirely. Not a speck of such thoughts arose.
Shh! Thud!
A dagger flew, embedding in a tree.
Of course, he wouldn't fall for that. A slight shift dodged it effortlessly.
Rattle!
The tree-stuck dagger quivered with force.
Four Thousand Four walked on calmly, as if blind to the dagger.
No glance at it. No scan for trajectory or thrower. No attack happened. So no one to find.
Not a flicker of attention diverted.
The Vanguard craved agitation. The slightest waver.
Moonlight bathed the world in daylight brilliance. White snow amplified the glow.
Whoosh!
Cold wind swept the bright scene.
Shh!
A figure stood on the snow.
The Vanguard, sword drawn, poised on snow, backlit by the moon.
"Did you get your answer?"
Four Thousand Four asked.
"Picked too strong an opponent. Didn't expect someone like you."
"What happens if you're caught in your technique?"
"You get uneasy."
"That's all?"
"That one instant is all I need."
"Then how about this?"
Four Thousand Four rose and stepped from the cave.
Shh!
He popped something into his mouth.
"A deliriant. Gives me about the time it takes to brew one cup of tea. Care to attack within that?"
"Why go this far?"
"You reek of death, Vanguard. The art you're about to use... Skeleton Demon Art?"
"H-how...!"
"I know the Skeleton Demon Art. It'd be absurd if the successor to the Death Verdict didn't."
Shh!
Four Thousand Four gripped daggers in both hands.
Preparing Shadowless Throw. The blades awaited the Vanguard's move before flying.
Groooaaar!
The Vanguard emitted a grotesque sound. Not from his mouth—from his body.
Bones twisted, joints cracking.
"Kuhuk!"
This time, from his mouth.
He didn't want to cry out, but agony spilled groans unwittingly.
The Skeleton Demon Art devoured life.
Each activation shaved off a decade of lifespan—no exaggeration.
The bone-shattering torment was self-inflicted.
"Kaaaaak!"
The Vanguard charged with a roar. In that instant!
Clang!
A dagger struck him. It didn't pierce—just sparked red off his hardened skin, bouncing lightly.
Clang!
A second strike rang out.
The Vanguard didn't fall. Still deflecting with his body, he rushed forward.
Thud!
Four Thousand Four collapsed.
Poisoned by his own deliriant.
Time to onset: one cup's brewing... no, barely half that. He held consciousness for a fleeting moment, then succumbed.
A vicious deliriant.
Delirious to this degree matched the Vanguard's desired instant of unease.
"Hoo! Hah!"
The Vanguard halted his sword.
He could kill Four Thousand Four. Unconscious, anyone could. But his goal wasn't death. It was the answer.
"Kuhuhuk!"
The Vanguard groaned.
Joint-cracking resumed, then his grotesquely warped body reverted.
Composed eyes on Four Thousand Four, he said,
"Thanks."