Chapter 32
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: What Are You Doing? (2)
They carve a path through the mountains as they go.
It's the fifth month, and the entire range is cloaked in green, yet the trail they're following is still littered with fallen leaves.
The Fox picks only the shadiest spots, where even sunlight struggles to penetrate.
Are they really heading the right way?
The Fox doesn't check the map. He doesn't glance at the compass. He just barrels forward like a man lost in the wilderness. If his face showed even a hint of unease, you'd swear he'd lost his bearings.
More impressive than the Fox is the Vanguard.
He has no idea if this path is right or wrong—hell, it feels like they're practically lost—yet he never grills the Fox. Never asks if they're on course.
It's been three days since they left the backwater of Three Villages.
Three straight days of mountain trails. Not a soul in sight. No woodcutters, hunters, loggers, herb gatherers, or dirt farmers... despite all the folks who make their living off these peaks, they haven't crossed paths with a single one.
Not even animals.
Birds aplenty, sure, but anything with four legs hasn't shown so much as a whisker.
And somehow, they haven't gotten lost.
On the fourth day, the Vanguard finally spoke. But it wasn't an interrogation.
"How many days do you figure?"
He asks, trusting the Fox completely.
"By the main road, it's three days. This way, a fortnight. We've already done three, so minus today—that leaves ten."
"Ten's too long. Shorten it by four days. Make it seven days and nights."
"I can adjust, but... we gotta keep security tight, right? Can't have us bumping into anyone on the road is what I'm saying."
"No, we can't."
"Then we're in a bind..."
"You're one chatty bastard."
"If I can't even talk, how am I supposed to breathe? Tell me to shut my trap and live like that, and I will... but there's no real need to stay quiet out here."
"Sneaking in jabs, short and sharp."
"Heh heh! That's just my charm. Cut me some slack."
"You're a weird one. Sassing me left and right, but I don't even mind."
"That's my fatal allure. Heh heh!"
"Fine. Chatter all you want—just make it within seven days and nights, no excuses. Ten is way too late."
"Ha! That means major course corrections... Tch! No helping it. If the big boss says tweak it, we tweak it."
The Fox of Bireung Mountain plopped down on the steep slope. He rummaged through his pack and pulled out the map booklet.
First time he'd touched it since leaving Three Villages.
Then Hanbi approached and asked,
"How long we staying here?"
"Dunno... gotta review this again. Soonest half a shichen?"
The Fox knew what Hanbi wanted. The whole trek up, Hanbi had been asking about timing. Now, whenever they paused, the Fox would volunteer it upfront.
"About one dajing rest."
"We're bedding down here tonight. Depart at maoshi."
"Lunchtime already? Let's make it half a shichen with some grub."
Rest stops on the trail, pit stops... he spells out every non-travel minute. How long they'll linger, how long they'll break.
This time, though, the Vanguard threw in an unscheduled demand and the Fox forgot to flag it early.
The Vanguard looked up at the sun and said,
"Half a shichen. Got it."
The Fox pored over the map while the others stretched out in comfy spots, half-reclined and relaxing.
Everyone except Hanbi.
Hanbi slipped away from the resting group.
At first, they wondered where he was off to. Now? No one bats an eye.
Hanbi's foraging for food. Or fetching water. Or hacking vines for rope substitutes.
He handles all the grub and sleep logistics so the crew doesn't have to sweat it.
On the march, in a scrap, crashing out—whatever. Need something? Ask Hanbi. Food, water, new soles... he delivers on all reasonable asks.
Of course, he can't conjure booze from thin mountain air or plush beds. Unrealistic demands are on the asker.
Anything he can scrounge, he does.
Makes you wonder: Is this Hanbi's gig? What’s his play in a fight?
Either way, the man never stops moving. Not for a second.
Thanks to him, the rest kick back easy.
The Wild Boar and Four Thousand Four just chill. No need to scour the hills for dinner. No fretting over water deep in the wilds.
Worry-free downtime.
One more who can't rest during breaks: Jaja.
She dives straight into meditation the moment the Fox halts.
Actually, she's not meditating. Sitting cross-legged sharpens her senses. Ears wide open, tuned to every sound around.
She's on watch for intruders.
Her job: protect the group. Like a hen shielding chicks from hawks, senses always primed.
Jaja only rests on the move.
She chews jerky while walking. Sips water mid-stride. Marching is her downtime.
These two make true rest possible for the crew.
As the half-shichen wrapped up, Hanbi returned.
Right on cue. Five waterskins slung over his shoulders—for drinking on the trail.
They're crossing rugged peaks without streams. Slopes so sheer sometimes they crawl, hands scraping dirt.
Water and rations are top worries, naturally.
Yet Hanbi always fills those skins somehow.
The water's faintly sweet. Cloys the mouth more than quenches.
Tree sap.
Han's got this knack for sourcing chow and drink anywhere, always within the Fox's timeline.
The Fox finished his review.
He stuffed the map back in his pack and said,
"All refreshed? Time to hit the road?"
The Vanguard asked,
"Can we make it in seven days and nights?"
"Didn't you tell me to wrap it in seven?"
"I did."
"You tell me to shave days, then ask if it's doable? Your words don't line up. If I couldn't cut it, would you let it slide? Don't make no sense."
"That so?"
"Yup. Heh heh!"
The Fox grinned mischievously.
He doesn't stand on ceremony with the Vanguard at all.
Not just him—the Fox treats the whole crew like old pals, no matter if they scowl or not.
Great rapport? Or just shameless?
Day fades to night.
Come nightfall, they unpack without fail. Even after shaving four days off, breaks stay sacred. Xushi to yinsi—pure rest, no exceptions.
In the Fox's head, that window's hardcoded as sleep time.
"What's for dinner? Can't wait."
"Heh heh! Meat? Greens? What'll it be?"
Hanbi teased.
"Meat's meat, but... not just any roadkill..."
The Fox shot Hanbi a sour look.
Last time he asked for meat, Hanbi brought snake.
Truth is, snake's a staple for mountain martial artists. Most don't bat an eye at snake meat.
But the Fox? Hates the slithery bastards.
Grilled snake's crispy as chicken... yet the Fox acts like they're mortal foes, won't go near 'em.
"Savages!"
Anyone who'd eaten snake turned barbarian in his eyes.
It's not just snakes. Rats, feral cats—no go. Should mean no meat at all, but he scarfs rabbits and pheasants fine.
If he weren't mountain-bred, you could chalk it up to picky eating.
But his moniker? Fox of Bireung Mountain.
The guy zipped east-west across those peaks as a bandit.
Lives off the wilds like a pro. So him gagging at snake? Baffling.
"Snake or rat again? If so, I'll just graze on this stuff."
The Fox pointed at the thick grass underfoot.
"Picky freak. Can't even fathom you weirdos. Tonight's pheasant. Eat up worry-free."
"Pheasant? Heh heh! This body's weakness for pheasant is legendary. Giggle! Man, I'm starting to like that guy."
The Fox winked at Hanbi.
"I'm beat."
Over the ridge, a decent-sized city sprawled into view.
The Fox jabbed a thumb at it, smug as hell.
"Yoseong, as ordered. Six days and nights flat. We'll crash here tonight, roll in tomorrow—that's exactly seven. No contacts en route... mission accomplished?"
"Yeah. I acknowledge it."
The Vanguard smiled.
"Acknowledged. You've dodged more detours than anyone I've seen. No wrong turns, deadline nailed—even after the speedup. I'll follow your lead from here on."
Hanbi clapped the Fox on the shoulder.
Jaja hadn't uttered a word the whole trip, eyes closed on eternal vigil. Even she cracked a smile, thumbs-up in approval.
Guide Fox: role fulfilled to perfection.
First leg of the journey: complete.
Vanguard called for Yoseong, and here they were. Just descend the peak.
At the summit, the crew gazed at the city while prepping camp.
Hanbi'd handle dinner, Jaja the watch. All they had to do was rest easy.
Not this time. Hanbi and Jaja bolted down the mountain without a word—even skipping a nod to the Vanguard.
Seemed they'd tacitly agreed: hit Yoseong, scatter downhill immediately.
"What's next?"
The Wild Boar asked.
"Rest up. Don't sleep."
The Vanguard's reply was curt. Face like stone.
Hanbi and Jaja didn't return till after midnight.
The crew stayed awake—no dozing on orders. Dinner was jerky scraps; no Hanbi meant no real meal.
They gathered as the pair arrived.
Jaja spoke first.
"Thirteenfold Net. Inner compounds: six. Outer: seven. Yi Blade Gate holds the outers—roughly two hundred strong."
Hanbi picked up,
"New Moon Blade Gate mans the inner defenses. Around three hundred, looks like they transplanted the whole sect. And..."
Hanbi trailed off, flicking a glance at Four Thousand Four, then continued.
"The main compound's four gates are guarded by Frost Blade Four Knives."
Hanbi and Jaja fell silent, done.
The Wild Boar and Fox of Bireung Mountain gaped, speechless in shock.
Yi Blade Gate—one of Gansu Province's Three Blade Gates.
Word is they train over two hundred bladesmen.
All of 'em in Yoseong.
New Moon Blade Gate, too—another of the Three.
Hanbi said they'd moved the whole damn thing.
And Frost Blade Four Knives? Elites from the last of the Three, Gansu's Frost Blade Gate. Heirs to the sect master's full legacy.
Bottom line: all Three Blade Gates in one spot.
What the hell for? Just like Three Villages ordered—snag some swords? From a camp crawling with Three Blade Gate forces? What kind of mission is this?
Four Thousand Four, the Fox, the Wild Boar—all eyes locked on the Vanguard's mouth.