Chapter 33
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: What Are You Doing? (3)
Vanguard spoke.
"I'll tell you the main mission. The main mission is to assassinate the Frostblade Wanderer by noon tomorrow."
"W-what did you say?!"
"What, what?!"
Wild Boar and the Fox of Bireung Mountain exclaimed in shock.
The Frostblade Wanderer was the sect leader of the Frostblade Sect. Even if he wasn't the supreme knifeman of the martial world, he was a powerhouse who had held his place among the Gansu Ten Elites for thirty years.
Assassinating him alone in an empty wasteland would be difficult enough.
Moreover, he was with the Three Blade Sects. They were likely surrounded by layer upon layer of their forces.
How were they supposed to kill him?
And there was a time limit to boot. What? By noon tomorrow?
Vanguard spoke of assassinating the Frostblade Wanderer as casually as pulling a snack from his pocket.
Wild Boar and the Fox of Bireung Mountain both turned to look at Four Thousand Four at almost the same time.
'What do you think?'
'Can you do it?'
The action fell to Four Thousand Four. That's how they understood it. So the assassination order had to be carried out by him.
Four Thousand Four remained silent, saying nothing.
Vanguard continued.
"Jaja, what's the success probability for the main mission?"
"Zero chance of eliminating the target."
"And if we carry it out anyway?"
"Instant death upon engagement, and after that, pursuit from the Yi Blade Sect. Survival chance for the rest of the squad would also be zero."
"And?"
"Judging by One Scout's abilities, escape should be feasible. In conclusion, this mission has a one hundred percent failure rate. Not even the slightest chance of success."
"Casualties would be the assassin and the squad."
"Those two are definite goners."
Jaja spoke as indifferently as if discussing someone else.
Wild Boar cut in abruptly.
"Hearing that kinda pisses me off. Is this how you always talk around here? Even if survival odds are zero, saying it right to someone's face... who'd feel motivated after that?"
"That's how it is here. Drop the whining."
Jaja replied coldly.
"Whining? Ha! Call me junior again, senior or whatever, and I'll..."
"Who said I'm your senior?"
Jaja looked at Wild Boar with impassive eyes.
"Oh? Not your senior? Never mind then... Wait, no. If you're not even my senior, I should watch my mouth even more. Sure, you're top-tier in the Lightfoot Martial Camp, but I'm no subordinate of yours."
"Enough!"
Vanguard barked heavily. Then he closed his eyes.
Silence fell.
Jaja had predicted mission failure. Hanbi hadn't spoken, but he shared the opinion.
If they pushed forward, Four Thousand Four and Wild Boar would die. The mission would fail as expected, with only casualties to show for it. What now? Press on or abort?
It all hinged on Vanguard's decision.
A moment later, Vanguard opened his eyes and spoke.
"Hanbi, Jaja. Reveal the intel you've gathered. Everyone, examine it carefully... Four Thousand Four, assassinate the Frostblade Wanderer by noon tomorrow. Fox, devise an escape plan. Wild Boar, handle pursuit interdiction."
They were pressing on with the mission.
"What about those two? Is that it?"
Wild Boar pointed at Hanbi and Jaja.
Vanguard stated firmly.
"Wild Boar, just focus on your own task. Don't worry about what others do. That's my call."
Hanbi and Jaja produced a single drawing of the manor.
The sketch was crude. It reeked of being hastily scribbled in a rush, lacking any precision.
There were walls, buildings, even artificial hills and ponds.
But what demanded attention wasn't the structures. It was the tiny dots densely marked across the drawing. Inside and out... the dots blanketed the entire manor.
No explanation was needed to grasp what those dots signified.
"My god! This is impossible!"
Fox's eyes bulged.
The small dots were scattered like grains of sand. Sneaking into the inner compound without detection was out of the question. It was like crossing a beach to the sea without getting sand on your feet.
The inner compound had four gates.
East, west, south, north... and without fail, a dot marked each gate.
Hanbi's Frostblade escorts.
"Where's the Frostblade Wanderer?"
Four Thousand Four asked Jaja.
"No idea. We haven't been inside the inner compound. We just know he's there."
"Who's in there?"
Four Thousand Four pointed at the inner compound.
"All three Blade Sect leaders, probably."
Hanbi answered.
To assassinate the Frostblade Wanderer, they'd have to deal with all three Blade Sect leaders. There was no way to target just him.
"But... why are the Three Blade Sects gathered here?"
Four Thousand Four's voice remained steadily calm throughout. He showed no tremor, as if unaware he'd been tapped for the assassination. He was as serene as a disciple querying his master at the academy.
Vanguard answered for them.
"Because they know we're coming to assassinate him. The New Moon Blade Sect and Yi Blade Sect have gathered to protect him."
It was no longer a surprise.
Insanity!
It would've been better if they'd been told to fetch a sword from some backwater mountain village out of nowhere.
Everyone lay down to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come.
Vanguard was infuriating. If only he'd let them nap a bit when Hanbi and Jaja went scouting. Why force them to spend the long night staring at the ceiling?
Four Thousand Four just stared at the drawing.
Sleep wouldn't come to him either. Only someone with nerves of steel could sleep in this situation.
There was no way to assassinate the Frostblade Wanderer.
Assassination meant killing stealthily. It was striking like lightning when the target was oblivious, off guard, unaware of the threat on their life.
The Frostblade Wanderer knew he was being targeted.
What kind of assassination was that? How were they supposed to pull it off? If he knew death was coming, he wouldn't miss even the sound of an ant crawling. How to even approach?
No method existed.
In a manor swarming with the entire Three Blade Sects, taking down one of the Gansu Ten Elites—no amateur mark.
- Just the Frostblade Wanderer?
- Yes.
Four Thousand Four and Vanguard had exchanged those words.
They sure made it sound easy.
'If the Three Blade Sects pursue... they won't charge into the mountains. They'll ride fast horses, block the passes... seize every ferry crossing. Control the rivers. We can flee to the mountains, but water's a dead end.'
The Fox of Bireung Mountain racked his brain for escape routes.
'Some will pursue right away. Four Thousand Four's probably dead by then... so it'll take them time to pinpoint us... half a day leeway. New Moon Blade Sect blocks the roads, Yi Blade Sect handles pursuit.'
Wild Boar couldn't shake his thoughts either.
The New Moon Blade Sect wielded blade arts rooted in lightness skills. Strictly speaking, they excelled in mounted blade techniques. The Yi Blade Sect, meanwhile, was based in the mountains. They trained extensively in rugged terrain.
The pursuit was crystal clear.
They'd be chased. Chased and chased again. Until the noose tightened around their necks. The final moment arrived. That's when he'd step up. Block the rear so the others could escape.
Fleeing full tilt might buy a day and a half.
Far more time than Four Thousand Four, who had to die tomorrow.
'Damn it! Why push a doomed mission to the end? We could call it quits right here.'
Wild Boar and Fox ended up thinking the same.
No matter how they sliced it, success was impossible. And Four Thousand Four—how must he feel, sent to die on an absurd errand?
They looked at him.
Four Thousand Four stared at the drawing. Back against a rock, bathed in bright moonlight as his lamp, even as the night passed from the hour of the ox into the hour of the tiger.
Chirp! Chirp-chirp! Chirp!
Mountain birds stirred, rousing from sleep. Telling them to get up.
They hadn't slept a wink all night. Thoughts swirled ceaselessly, tossing and turning.
The sun rose in the east.
Darkness retreated, the world tinting red.
The eastern sky burned especially vivid—another clear day ahead.
Ah, so today someone would spill blood redder than this dawn and fall. The sun would set and rise again, but one life would never return.
Fox turned to where Four Thousand Four had been.
But!
'Huh?'
Fox blinked a few times.
Four Thousand Four was gone. He hadn't sensed any movement... where'd he go?
Despite the sleepless night, he'd felt no sign of Four Thousand Four stirring. If he had, he'd have looked immediately. He'd watched even when the guy lay down to sleep. The slightest twitch drew his eyes automatically. No doubt.
Four Thousand Four hadn't moved.
"Hey! Where'd that guy go?"
Wild Boar muttered as he rose.
Only then did Fox truly register it. He'd seen—no, felt—no movement, but clearly, Four Thousand Four had vanished.
The four combed the area thoroughly.
Fox, Wild Boar, Hanbi, and Jaja searched every spot a person could hide.
Yet no Four Thousand Four.
"Not here."
"Nothing on this side."
"No sign he went down the mountain."
They all came up empty.
"Hm! Is this even possible?"
Vanguard muttered.
No one had noticed until Four Thousand Four was gone.
Wild Boar and Fox hadn't slept. Nerves frayed from the looming assassination, every sense on edge. A rustling leaf would have them drawing weapons.
Yet they missed his departure.
Vanguard, Hanbi, and Jaja hadn't slept deeply either. Not from assassination worries, but because martial artists slept lightly, senses alert even in repose.
Their perceptions stayed open.
Enemies don't wait for you to wake. Tension even during calls of nature. They strike at any lapse.
Thus, martial artists avoided deep sleep, drunkenness, or immersion in passion. Vigilance at all times.
They lived by that iron rule.
Any movement triggered their senses first. They'd spot actions instantly.
He knew Fox was sleepless.
Wild Boar hadn't flaunted it, but he'd shifted positions—not sleepy tossing, but fully readjusting his posture.
He hadn't slept either.
They'd clocked all that... but missed Four Thousand Four moving.
"He ran?"
Wild Boar tilted his head.
"No way! That guy's not the type to flee for his life."
Fox denied it outright.
Wild Boar didn't know why he was bound to the Heavenly Annihilation Division. But Fox... he figured he couldn't quit until death.
Four Thousand Four was the same.
He'd received a letter too. Contents unknown, but it bound him inescapably.
Four Thousand Four couldn't flee. He might want to deep down, but he couldn't. If his letter matched Fox's.
"No. He's not a runner."
Vanguard shook his head.
Then when, how, and where had Four Thousand Four vanished?