When Dragon and Tiger Join Hands (4)
The reversed Thunderbolt Crossbow unleashed twenty-five bolts toward the Underground Hall members.
Boom. Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.
The six Underground Hall members who had dragged in the Thunderbolt Crossbow took the full barrage of bolts.
"Aaaagh…!"
The crossbow bolts from the Thunderbolt Crossbow packed far more power than ordinary spears. The twenty-five bolts pierced through the men's bodies, shredding them before flying backward.
Reduced to nothing more than chunks of meat, the men tumbled across the tunnel floor like so many human pillars. In an instant, the cavern transformed into a blood-soaked hellscape.
Dang Ryong strode forward, knelt down, and began inspecting the Thunderbolt Crossbow.
"Ho, not bad. Pretty well made."
His eyes, which had been utterly indifferent while slaughtering the Underground Hall members, now gleamed with interest.
Dang Ryong even drew a dagger from his sleeve and sliced off a corner of the box.
As the wooden paneling fell away, the internal mechanism was revealed.
"Pulling the trigger releases a linkage that fires all twenty-five springs at once, huh? More complex than I thought."
At that moment, Seo Baek emerged from the shadows behind him. As he passed by Dang Ryong, he asked,
"A repeating crossbow mechanism?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'll leave the rear to you."
"Yeah."
Dang Ryong gave a vague wave without taking his eyes off the Thunderbolt Crossbow.
Seo Baek paid him no mind and vanished into the darkness like the wind.
"It's not just springs—looks like it uses Thunderbolt Bombs too. A blueprint would be perfect."
Then, from the shadows, someone approached, aiming a spear. This time, it wasn't Seo Baek.
It was Gang Pyo, the Underground Hall's deputy leader.
"What the hell are you?"
Gang Pyo demanded, but Dang Ryong muttered to himself without so much as a glance.
"No way the Murim Alliance has the skill to make something like this. Huashan? Nah, those idiots are even worse."
"You deaf? I asked who the fuck you are!"
Irritated by Dang Ryong's obliviousness, Gang Pyo bellowed. But Dang Ryong just tilted his head, lost in thought.
"They shot the Shaolin monks, so their identity… Was that it? Yeah, that makes sense."
"…"
Gang Pyo wondered if the guy had lost his mind. Then rage exploded from him.
"You got shit in your ears or what?!"
Gang Pyo raised his spear, aiming precisely at Dang Ryong's head.
Only then did Dang Ryong reply. His gaze still fixed on the Thunderbolt Crossbow.
"Shut up."
"What?"
"You're noisy. Shut your mouth."
"You… You blind? This spear'll end you the second I pull the trigger, no matter how strong you are!"
"You're breaking my concentration. Be quiet."
"What? You little shit…!"
Gang Pyo moved to pull the trigger immediately.
But his finger wouldn't budge.
"Wha… Why won't it…?"
Not just his index finger—his entire arm was frozen, like frostbite had set in.
Creak-creak-creak.
As Dang Ryong wiggled his fingers, Gang Pyo's arms began to move slowly, still gripping the spear.
"Wh-what the hell did you do…?"
Gang Pyo's arms slowly turned the spear around.
Soon, with his index finger on the trigger, he pressed the spear's tip under his own chin.
Just like a man about to take his own life.
In a voice thick with terror, Gang Pyo begged for mercy.
"Ugh… Please… spare my life…"
"Shh."
Bang.
Gang Pyo's finger pulled the trigger, and a bolt pierced his jaw, shattering his skull.
The headless body shuddered once before collapsing like a felled tree.
Of course, Dang Ryong didn't spare it a glance, still peering into the Thunderbolt Crossbow's mechanism.
"Too intricate to memorize. Got a brush and paper? Better to draw it out."
Standing, Dang Ryong vanished somewhere in search of writing tools.
* * *
In a large chamber deep within the caverns,
Gil Sang-baek sat writing a letter, flanked by a dozen Underground Hall members.
Finishing the letter, he sealed it tightly and handed it to one of the members.
"Sell the sheep heads, then deliver this."
"Understood!"
Sheep heads—slang in the black path for human traffickers. The Underground Hall had been periodically selling captured refugees to areas less ravaged by the revenant outbreak.
Gil Sang-baek addressed the members.
"No report from Deputy Leader Gang yet?"
"Nothing so far."
"Can't even clear out a few rats with all those men."
Gil Sang-baek scowled and shouted into the bamboo tube embedded in the wall.
"Deputy Leader Gang! Where's Deputy Leader Gang?!"
No reply came through the tube.
"Anyone? Call Deputy Leader Gang for a report…"
As Gil Sang-baek yelled in frustration, a voice crackled through the bamboo tube from one of the members.
"Deputy Leader Gang is dead…"
"What?"
"They're not rats… they're tigers…"
The voice cut off abruptly.
At the same time, a thud echoed—like a body hitting the floor. The member had delivered his final report before dying.
"Those damn rats…"
As Gil Sang-baek ground his teeth, another voice came through the tube.
"There are only two infiltrators."
"Two? You mean they can't kill just two?"
"To kill those two, you'd need a thousand men. No, ten thousand."
"What…?"
Suddenly, Gil Sang-baek recognized the voice.
"Who the hell are you?"
"One of the rats."
"That voice… the kid?"
"Yes. Seo Baek, on his way to Shaolin."
"You little brat, have a death wish?"
"Central Plains folk sure care about age. From what I know, martial artists value something else more."
"What nonsense?"
"They judge by martial prowess."
Seo Baek's polite tone turned icy cold.
"And yours is pathetic, yet you dared touch Shaolin monks and guests. Ballsy—or just stupid?"
"You punk!"
"I entered through the metal gate. The abandoned well was water. Prison's fire, so the remaining tunnels must be wood and earth."
"…!"
"Where are you? Wood?"
"…"
"Earth?"
"…"
"Your breathing's shaky. Earth it is. On my way."
The voice cut off.
Gil Sang-baek smirked.
"He went the opposite way. Circle around and hit him from behind."
"Understood!"
The Underground Hall members each grabbed a spear fitted with a crossbow and moved through the tunnels.
They soon reached a crossroads.
Since they'd come from the earth tunnel—which was wood—the infiltrator must have entered the opposite earth tunnel.
Gil Sang-baek and his men advanced into the earth tunnel as quietly as possible.
Torches lined the walls of every Underground Hall tunnel at regular intervals. Strangely, though, every torch in this one was extinguished, plunging it into pitch blackness.
Visibility zero.
Then, a sound from the darkness.
Thud. Like a heavy sack of rice hitting the ground.
Gil Sang-baek, at the rear, whispered,
"What was that?"
"No idea…"
The man ahead shook his head.
The same sound repeated.
Thud-thud-thud…
"Report what's happening up front."
Gil Sang-baek couldn't hold back.
Suddenly, crossbow shots rang out. Shwick-shwick-shwick. The front men firing at an enemy, it seemed.
Then, once the bolts stopped, the thuds resumed without fail.
Only then did Gil Sang-baek realize: those thuds weren't sacks. They were bodies hitting the floor.
People dying without a single scream?
Then who the hell was their opponent…?
His face hardening, the once-confident Gil Sang-baek swallowed hard.
A dozen men remained with him.
Deputy Leader Gang had taken everyone else—easily seventy or eighty for the purge.
And if they were all dead…
The one cutting down his men in the dark had already slaughtered seventy or eighty experts!
Sensing the dire situation, Gil Sang-baek barked,
"Retreat! Everyone, fall back!"
No sooner had he ordered than he spun and bolted back the way they'd come.
This wasn't a rat—it was a tiger.
You don't fight a tiger head-on. Lure it into a trap, bind its limbs, then slit its throat in one strike.
Gil Sang-baek returned to the chamber. He grabbed his custom-made spear and headed out.
Then, a shadow approached from the darkness.
Assuming it was one of his retreating men, Gil Sang-baek called,
"Casualties? Who's left?"
"No one."
"What? If you're here, that's one…"
"Do I look like one of your men?"
Swish. The figure emerging from the dark wasn't an Underground Hall member—it was Seo Baek.
Gil Sang-baek gaped, a groan escaping him.
A boy not even twenty had wiped out over a dozen men? In less than a quarter-hour?
Stunned for a moment, Gil Sang-baek aimed his spear at Seo Baek's chest and pulled the trigger.
Shwick. Clang.
But Seo Baek didn't flinch, merely flicking his sword to deflect the bolt.
That single motion told Gil Sang-baek everything.
An expert he couldn't beat head-on!
But Gil Sang-baek wasn't pushover either. Even as shock rippled through him at Seo Baek's skill, he thrust his spear. A lifetime of training moved his body on instinct.
Shwick. Clang. Seo Baek deflected it effortlessly, angling his blade so the spear glanced off and stabbed past his shoulder.
Then Gil Sang-baek twisted a ring beside the crossbow trigger with his thumb.
The spear tip split, three blades springing out.
Crack.
Curved like sickles.
"Die!"
Gil Sang-baek yanked the spear, the blades arcing for Seo Baek's throat.
Seo Baek twisted his neck, dodging. The blades missed his throat but carved a long gash across his shoulder, shredding his windbreaker robe.
Riiip.
'Too cocky.'
The scholarly-looking Gil Sang-baek was a spear master.
'A polearm specialist.'
Seo Baek's guess was spot-on.
Gil Sang-baek was a polearm virtuoso, favoring the ji—a spear with added dagger, axe, or crescent blade at the shaft's end. Striking from unexpected angles or hooking weapons was its hallmark.
Gil Sang-baek specialized in thrusting, then slashing the throat on a dodge.
The vast Central Plains had its share of ji practitioners.
But the place with the most? Not the martial world.
The government.
Military exam graduates all learned ji techniques.
It all fit.
A gang hoarding mass-produced crossbow spears. Led by a ji expert.
Only one conclusion.
The Underground Hall was a covert government organization.