Chapter 40
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: The Straggler (5)
The clan leader has fallen!
In an instant, a suffocating silence blanketed the compound.
The people extinguishing the fires hadn't heard yet. Hanbi and Jaja, locked in combat outside the outer hall, hadn't heard either. But Daebang and the escort disciples fighting beyond the inner hall had heard it clearly.
Every fierce clash ground to a halt.
What? Did I hear that wrong?
But as if to confirm their doubts, another frantic cry erupted.
"The clan leader was struck by a hidden blow!"
"The gate! Lock the gate!"
"It was the bastard who just slipped out! Seize that New Moon Sword Sect dog!"
The escort disciples' gazes snapped toward the figure who had just darted through the gate—a New Moon Sword Sect disciple.
Just over a dozen paces from escaping the inner gate...
There was Four Thousand Four, clad in New Moon Sword Sect robes, gripping a blood-smeared sword, striding briskly away.
"You bastard!"
"Halt!"
The escort disciples bellowed. They launched their forms straight at Four Thousand Four.
But this scenario—he had already foreseen it.
Now it was rabbit versus wolves. One rabbit swarmed by four wolves. And in mere moments, their numbers would swell to two hundred, five hundred.
Resistance meant death. There were no other options. Like a rabbit cornered by wolves, flight was the only path to survival.
What were the odds of such a rabbit breaking free?
Seven or eight out of ten would be caught and devoured.
Those were his odds of survival. Even fleeing with every ounce of strength, his chances barely scraped one or two percent.
But he couldn't just sit there and die!
Tatatatak!
Four Thousand Four broke into a sprint.
"Assassination... success?"
Daebang could only blink in stunned disbelief before this impossible truth.
He had seen Four Thousand Four. Emerging leisurely from the inner hall. No mistaking it—it was him.
"That... that guy... how in the world...?"
He had watched him enter the inner compound.
The bastard had donned New Moon Sword Sect robes flawlessly and wielded one of their swords.
At minimum, one disciple was down.
An astonishing bastard. The kind that left you speechless. But Daebang's thoughts stopped there. No matter how heaven-defying Four Thousand Four's talents, he couldn't possibly threaten the escort corps.
The escort corps was a towering ancient tree far beyond his reach.
Yet before that notion could fully form, the man slipped out of the inner gate. Strolling away at ease.
"What the hell is with that guy?"
Once more, the thought went unfinished.
Before it could settle, the shout that the clan leader had collapsed carried over the walls.
This time, his jaw hung slack, his mind blank.
He stared vacantly at Four Thousand Four.
As he did, the escort disciples spotted him too.
They halted their fight.
As if by silent pact, they all froze, eyes locked on the unexpected figure.
That bastard! He pulled off the sneak attack!
In a flash, two of the escort disciples shot forward with vicious speed—faster than hawks stooping on chicks. Without a word to spare, the third dashed into the inner hall.
They had clearly prearranged their moves in case the escort leader fell.
"You bastard!"
The remaining one slashed at Daebang.
"Ugh!"
Daebang snapped to high alert.
This strike lacked the prior leisure. It carried full power. A killing intent bent on ending the duel swiftly. The situation had turned dire.
Thud! Clank!
Daebang parried with a sword block, steadying his blade. Then he unleashed his life-saving ultimate: the Thirteen Forms of the Mara Thousand Transformations Sword.
The Mara Thousand Transformations Sword was the pinnacle of accumulative power.
One form's strength unfolded into two; two forms' into three. The variations of the first begat the second's, the second's the third's.
Speed and force doubled with each successive move.
Witness the first form, and you might scoff. The second stiffens your face; the third turns grave; by the fourth, you're giving your all. Imagine from the fifth to the thirteenth.
Yet its immense power came at a steep cost: voracious qi drain.
Unleashing the full Thirteen Forms left the body utterly drained, limp as a rag.
Hence, it was reserved for the most desperate straits—a true desperation technique.
Shiiiik! Chwararararak!
From first to second, second to third, third to fourth... the chain swordplay cascaded in a blur.
"Ugh!"
The escort disciple recoiled in shock at the abrupt onslaught.
He hadn't dreamed Daebang was holding back such a technique.
Moments ago, Daebang had teetered on the brink. Hemmed in by four disciples, no escape but death or capture—a do-or-die crisis.
He should have emptied his arsenal of ultimate arts.
The disciple figured he'd seen every trick.
Daebang couldn't break free. No path out. Drop the sword or perish.
Then suddenly—whoosh! Sword-light surged.
"He had one more ace up his sleeve!"
By the time he bellowed, Daebang was gone.
Shiiiik!
Daebang poured his soul into his footwork. In the blink of an eye, he vaulted the wall, took a few strides atop it, then leaped into the night beyond.
This, too, was a life-saving body art: the Shanla Divine Step.
The Shanla Divine Step detonated the body's qi in one explosive burst for a dash of unparalleled speed—but it lasted a mere ten breaths.
Usable only for split-second escapes.
Whirurururuk! Boom!
As Daebang fled the compound, he launched a firework skyward.
Not red this time, but green. A deep leaf-green bloom unfurled overhead.
"Cunning fox!"
The escort disciple didn't pursue. Daebang's speed robbed him of any confidence in catching up, even immediately.
He didn't know of the Shanla Divine Step.
Had he known its flaw—the ten-breath limit—he'd have chased without hesitation.
But the unchasable could wait; his master's safety burned hotter. And the culprit who struck him down, fleeing in New Moon robes... that one had to be caught. No exceptions.
"You bastard! We'll cross paths again someday!"
The disciple bolted into the inner hall.
The two circled, weapons poised.
They'd already traded three clashes. Yet neither gained the edge.
Power transmitted through their blades matched evenly. Speeds equal, variations unpredictable.
Each recognized the other as a worthy foe, priming their next move.
The inner hall roiled with chaos... but no spare attention for it.
Then, a deafening crack rent the air as the green firework burst.
Hanbi flicked a sidelong glance at it. No time for distractions, yet his eyes betrayed him.
Green? Success?
An unbelievable turn.
He'd pegged the mission as a failure, yet it had succeeded against all odds. Daebang, as expected. When the retreat signal came, he'd braced for certain death.
But... how the hell had Daebang slain the escort leader?
No matter. Their chance had arrived—or would soon.
Euldo Sect and New Moon Sword Sect disciples remained oblivious to the assassination. It would take a few critical moments for word from the inner hall to reach them.
The escort leader assassinated!
The news would rattle both sects to their core. Key warriors would rush inward. No need for hundreds to swarm mere bait fodder. They'd crave answers first.
A fleeting window of disruption.
The sole chance to shatter the encirclement. Once it passed, even wings wouldn't save them.
Daebang had signaled that precise moment with the green flare.
What of Jaja? She'd seen it too, no doubt. Same conclusion as him.
The one shot at escape!
Hanbi feigned sword focus while scanning his surroundings. He pondered deeply where to stake his final gambit.
Tatatatak!
He ran for his life, channeling every shred of strength into his legs.
Just a little more!
The gulf between life and death spanned mere steps.
This wasn't blind flight. Bursting from the compound's heart—where to run? Aimless panic meant capture and death.
He dashed with plan and precision.
Distance to the escort disciples: precisely over fifteen paces. Matched foot speed made it tough; but factor in technique gaps, and they'd overhaul him in a heartbeat.
Sssit!
He whipped around the building's corner.
Here!
The instant Four Thousand Four rounded it, he vaulted onto the roof.
A skilled assassin wasn't one who killed well. Never. Nor one who killed cleanly or easily. A truly skilled assassin was one who evaded capture.
The mark of a true assassin: scouting escape routes before the kill.
Before breaching the inner gate, he'd mapped his optimal exit.
Half his focus on vigilance, half on Daebang's duel with the escort disciple, the rest forever hunting bolt-holes.
This spot—he'd marked it pre-entry.
The only viable one. The sole place to shake the escort disciples... usable for a fleeting instant before discard. Shake them here, and a second chance dawned.
He soared onto the roof.
Now, timing was everything.
The slightest inkling from the escort disciples, and it was over. They couldn't round the corner before he crested the eaves. Couldn't glimpse his ascent. He had to vanish like mist right before their eyes.
Ssssit!
Atop the roof, Four Thousand Four instantly held his breath.
No trace of the man. No living presence within ten zhang. He had to sell that illusion. Not the faintest aura, not a whisper of breath.
Like the dead... like utter nothingness...
"Miss! Lady Zhuge!"
A desperate voice exploded from within the inner gate.
Lady Zhuge? Then that woman...
Four Thousand Four recalled the breathtaking beauty.
Her clan name was Zhuge. The woman who bore that rare surname and addressed the escort leader as senior.
She had fallen too.
Inevitable. If the leader collapsed, his companion couldn't stand untouched.
Though the timing mattered...
Four breaths from his fall to hers.
No threat to her life...
Four Thousand Four let out a faint smirk.
Lucky he hadn't killed her. He knew nothing of her identity or role... but vague relief that she'd escaped harm.
"Hmph."
"Rat of a bastard!"
The two escort disciples, just rounding the corner, spat in frustration.
First: Four Thousand Four was gone from sight. Already vanished into hiding.
Ghostly cunning.
Yet he hadn't breached the compound. That much they swore by.
Better to seal it tight, then comb methodically.
Second: mounting worry over the inner hall chaos.
Above all, they hadn't checked their master's state. One had rushed in, true—but the urge burned in them too.
The two warriors shot off once more.
Deng deng deng deng deng deng! Deng deng deng!
Alarm bells pealed raucously, shaking the compound.
The prearranged final dirge for assassination: worst-case signal.
"Poison! The clan leader was poisoned!"
"He's in New Moon Sword Sect robes! Extra vigilance on New Moon!"
The compound erupted like a kicked hive.
Euldo Sect, New Moon Sword Sect, and escort disciples morphed into raging hornets, eyes aflame, scouring every inch.