The Nameless Grunts' Counterstrike (2)
Four Murim fighters from the sword-and-dao mercenary ranks, broad daos in hand.
And a man in worn blue robes with a single rusty sword at his waist.
Five mismatched nobodies who didn't belong anywhere, striding boldly toward the battlefield.
Their foe: the Jegal Clan.
But Wang Yi Sam spotted something odd.
The three Murim men selected by the blue-robed figure shared a common trait.
First, their faces were all fierce and intimidating.
Scarred cheeks or thick, bushy beards gave off an aura that screamed keep your distance.
Second, they were all burly and muscled.
Broad backs and shoulders suggested they'd trained mainly in external arts. One was especially bulky and massive, but it was dense muscle, not flab.
The clincher: all three carried heavy broad daos on their backs, just like Wang Yi Sam.
Thick slabs of men who looked like they could swing for days.
A strange feeling settled over Wang Yi Sam.
These guys feel kinda like me... nah, just my imagination?
It wasn't his imagination.
He had every reason to feel that way.
The blue-robed man had handpicked these warriors to sync perfectly with Wang Yi Sam.
Oblivious to that, Wang Yi Sam asked him outright.
"These guys comin' with us all wield broad daos, huh?"
"Correct."
"Why pick three dao users? I ain't no tactician, but don't ya mix swords, daos, and spears for a stronger lineup?"
"Not necessarily."
After gathering Wang Yi Sam and the three Murim men, the blue-robed man spoke.
"No time, so I'll say this once. Listen well."
He drew a circle in the dirt with the tip of his sword hilt.
"You four, take positions at the east, west, south, and north points."
He marked the four corresponding spots around the circle.
"Except the north, face inward toward the center—backs to the east, west, and south."
What he described was a crane-wing formation guarding the four cardinal directions.
"Key point: this formation advances north. So east and west shift sideways; south backs up while facing away."
To emphasize the advance, he drew an arrow pointing north.
"I'll issue two commands: left or right. On left, swing your broad dao left. On right, swing right."
He sketched two arrows curving sideways from the north position.
"Now the crucial part. Each swing rotates your positions. North swings left becomes west; right becomes east. Adjust accordingly. Clear?"
"So we spin in circles sideways while fightin'?"
"Exactly."
The three Murim men nodded, grasping it.
Wang Yi Sam's head spun, but he nodded too, refusing to look dumber than the others.
Then he boldly took point.
"Piece o' cake. I'll lead."
Wang Yi Sam had ulterior motives for north.
A horizontal dao swing naturally twisted the body left or right.
Keep swinging, and you'd spin through all directions.
Not knowing how the formation shifted, he'd snagged the simplest spot.
Please let us practice slow...
Heaven ignored his prayer.
Through the dust storm from the Jegal manor's main hall charged masked warriors.
Jegal Clan fighters.
Over twenty at a glance—four times their number.
But Wang Yi Sam and his lifelong sword-for-hire crew wouldn't yield in spirit.
They'd steeled for death against the Jegal Clan.
"Come on!"
Wang Yi Sam bellowed, gripping his broad dao.
The warriors rushed in a cloud of dirt, lightfoot skills blazing.
Tatata.
Their footwork alone screamed superior skill.
Damn. This won't be easy.
Wang Yi Sam gritted his teeth—
"Left."
The blue-robed man's low voice pierced his ear.
Reflexively, Wang Yi Sam raised his dao diagonally right, then slashed left.
Whooosh.
It cleaved empty air, but forced a charging warrior back on his heels—pure intimidation.
The problem came next.
Wait—how do I defend now?
Twisted left from the swing, his right side gaped open.
Sure enough, a warrior lunged at the gap.
Dead meat.
Wang Yi Sam squeezed his eyes shut.
But the attacker faltered, retreating three steps.
Baffled, Wang Yi Sam realized: as the warrior leaped, the man on his right had swung left, covering the blind spot seamlessly.
Then the command came again.
"Left."
They spun left once more, daos slashing.
Wang Yi Sam got it now.
Broad daos packed power but exposed flaws post-swing.
Yet with the next man swinging identically right after, it sealed the gap.
He covered the man to his left in turn.
Four men rotating, focusing pure offense—defense handled itself.
Simple as dirt, but brutally effective!
Wang Yi Sam was floored.
A formation this basic? What the hell?
But that simplicity hit hard.
Four slabs whirling four daos like a windmill—warriors couldn't close in.
And the blue-robed man's commands were genius.
"Left, right, left left, right left right right right..."
From the formation's heart, he wove lefts and rights to counter their moves.
The crane-wing didn't whirl one way—it zigzagged unpredictably, reversing on a dime.
Handpicking men like Wang Yi Sam perfected it.
Matching bulk meant identical stances and swings—like one beast, power quadrupled.
Whooosh whooosh whooosh whooosh!
"Hahaha! Even the mighty Jegal Clan can't touch us sword-for-hires who hacked through blade forests!"
Wang Yi Sam whooped as warriors floundered.
They'd scoffed at first, exchanging glances.
Ridiculous formation. Charge and smash it.
But it held firm.
The blue-robed man's pinpoint commands exploited every twitch.
They couldn't breach—frustration burned in their masked eyes.
Played by that amateur crap!
Soon the formation shoved through their encirclement, nearing the main hall.
One warrior asked his leader.
"Damn these lowly third-rates! What now?"
"..."
Their captain, a battle-hardened middle-aged man.
Even he had never seen such a crude formation.
Four guarding directions, spinning like tops. That's it?
Yet it worked.
He saw why.
The broad daos.
Wide blades, spear-long hilts.
p>Prestige sects mocked them as hack tools that left you wide open.
Paired with this basic formation? Unignorable might.
Jegal warriors trained swift, flashy swordplay.
Jegal Hyeok's orders, prepping for elite clashes: hit fast, fade away.
This formation was the opposite.
They ditched speed for sheer weight.
Crushing Jegal fighters with heaviness over quickness!
The captain was stunned.
Hack dao-swingers only.
Yet four pooled into this counter to his men...
The blue-robed commander in the center had devised it.
Dangerous bastard.
While he pondered, reports flooded in.
"Can't hold them."
"They'll breach the hall."
"Simple formation, but the caller... damn it! He's too good."
"Yes. Just left-right swings, but so precise... mind-reading maybe?"
The captain snarled back.
"Mind-reading? You saying that third-rate scum uses sorcery like Young Master?"
"N-no, sir..."
He scolded but secretly agreed.
At this level, mind-reading fits.
The blue-robed man read their moves like an open book.
"Everyone charge—smash 'em at once!"
"No."
He halted them with a raised hand.
Ex-disciple of a Great Sect, fled infighting, renamed himself, sheltered in Jegal for over a decade.
Beyond first-rate, he disdained ganging up on grunts.
Now a worthy one-on-one foe appeared.
Three exchanges, and his head rolls.
Killing an expert ignited his old bloodlust.
"I'll take the commander's head."
He pointed at the blue-robed man dead center.
"Hard to even approach the formation—how?"
"Spinning has flaws. His head falls, it crumbles. Strike then, slaughter the trash."
"Understood!"
He slipped to the hall's flank, scaled the wall, leaped roofward.
Whoosh.
He'd found the fatal flaw.
Spinning top's weakness: the hub.
Three void steps launched him skyward, plummeting vertically at center.
Screeeee.
Fools. I'll shatter your petty trick!
Wang Yi Sam at north saw the insane leap from the roof.
Instinct screamed: beyond first-rate. Targeting the blue-robed man.
Desperate, he swung upward—too far. Dao missed clean.
He yelled back.
"Peak expert! Danger!"
The reply was absurd.
"Right."
"Hey, you're in trouble!"
"Obey commands. Right."
Irresistible authority—Wang Yi Sam slashed right.
Slash!
A charging warrior's chest split open, collapsing.
"Aaaagh."
No joy in the kill.
Worried, Wang Yi Sam glanced back.
The black-masked, robed captain plummeted sword-first at the blue-robed man.
Who stood unfazed, staring ahead?
We're done...!
As Wang Yi Sam shut his eyes—
The blue robes whipped like caught in a gale.
Flap!
The eagle-diving captain couldn't slash or twist—crashed flat.
Thud.
What?
Bewildered, something tumbled to Wang Yi Sam's feet.
Glancing down, he recoiled in horror.
It was the captain's severed head—the one who'd just soared in with godlike footwork.