Ark Escape (5)
Dohwa Gwang blinked in confusion and asked again.
“Cut the mast?”
“Yes.”
“You’re saying instead of just furling the sails, we chop the whole mast down to slow the ark?”
“No, didn’t you say faster is better for the ark’s speed?”
“Ha! What nonsense is this?!”
Dohwa Gwang couldn’t grasp Seo Baek’s words and vented his frustration.
The other assassins, deeming his complaint reasonable, narrowed their eyes and watched Seo Baek and Song Hyeon intently.
Those two are clever, but Dohwa Gwang’s right this time.
Even if we cut the mast, it’ll take too long. Won’t we pass the dock by then?
What are those two scheming now?
Are they planning to fight us to the death before escaping the ark?
It was natural for the assassins to harbor such suspicions.
Given Seo Baek and Song Hyeon’s martial prowess, they must have long sensed the killers gunning for their lives.
So whether the revenant horde climbed onto the deck or not, they might as well wreck the ark and settle things in a desperate last stand.
After all, if death was inevitable, mutual destruction was preferable, wasn’t it?
But once Seo Baek and Song Hyeon declared they’d cut the mast, the assassins fell into hesitation.
The reason? Fear of death.
Assassins made a living snatching lives like crushing bugs. Yet surprisingly, they dreaded their own demise.
Commissioned kills were easy. The hard part was killing and then escaping unscathed with your own neck intact.
Blindly throwing away your life for a hit wasn’t assassination—it was suicide.
Curiously, orthodox sects valued life less than unorthodox gangs. They clung to beliefs even at the cost of death.
Though those beliefs rarely rang truly righteous or just.
In this tense atmosphere, the assassins suspected Seo Baek and Song Hyeon aimed to sabotage the ark and fight.
Then, shrieks rose from the base of the stairs.
Kieeeek.
The blood ghosts began clambering onto the deck in droves.
Song Hyeon, nearest the stairs, turned to Seo Baek.
“I’ll handle this.”
“Leave the mast to me.”
Song Hyeon positioned himself squarely before the stairwell entrance.
A bottleneck tactic: prevent the blood ghosts from surging up en masse, picking them off one by one as they funneled through the narrow gap.
The instant a blood ghost’s head poked above the deck, Song Hyeon’s sword—sheathed in pale blue sword qi—severed its neck.
Splatter. Gurk.
Rooted firmly in place, Song Hyeon wielded his blade alone, lopping off heads and limbs relentlessly.
Yet the deck had another stairwell leading below, beyond Song Hyeon’s blockade. Blood ghosts climbed from there too.
Seeing it, Dohwa Gwang spat and raised his sword.
“Damn it. Whatever your game, we need to save our skins first.”
“Agreed.”
Dohwa Gwang and the assassins swung their weapons, blocking the blood ghosts’ ascent.
With Song Hyeon and the killers buying time, it was Seo Baek’s turn.
He watched intently as the ark hurtled toward the dock at full speed.
Precision is everything in this plan.
The moment the ark passed the dock would decide success or failure.
As Seo Baek observed calmly, Wang Yi Sam fidgeted beside him, stamping his foot in anxiety.
“Junior, what the hell are you planning?”
“I told you. We’re cutting the mast.”
“Why chop a perfectly good mast? Trying to smash the ark?”
“The mast will become a bridge across the canal.”
“A bridge...?”
Wang Yi Sam half-grasped the idea.
He knew the trick of felling a tree over a chasm to cross. But the mast’s length seemed dubious for spanning the canal from the ark.
Worse, the ark kept moving. Even if toppled to hook the canal’s edge, the ark’s momentum might twist it into the water.
Then Seo Baek pointed ahead.
“Here it comes.”
Wang Yi Sam turned. A massive dock loomed ahead—the ark would pass it soon.
“Senior, climb the mast.”
“What? Why?”
“Get to the very top.”
Perplexed but trusting, Wang Yi Sam scrambled up as ordered. He’d never lost by following Seo Baek since Sichuan.
Fog shrouded the canal, visibility poor from the deck.
Atop the mast, however, the view cleared dramatically.
Something caught Wang Yi Sam’s eye.
“That’s...”
A towering watchtower on the dock, nearly matching the mast’s height, topped with a wide circular platform.
Before the revenant outbreak, canal guards must have directed traffic from there during peak times.
Spotting it, Wang Yi Sam understood. He yelled down.
“Junior! You’re toppling the mast onto the watchtower?”
“Exactly.”
As the ark passed, felling the mast would hook its end on the platform.
Creating a bridge linking mast and tower!
A bold, absurdly reckless plan.
Slightly off timing, and the mast would swing wide into empty air.
Failure means doom.
Wang Yi Sam swallowed hard, then grinned slyly.
If it’s Junior, he’ll pull it off.
He’d witnessed Seo Baek and Song Hyeon’s skills since Wang Family Fortress.
Seo Baek raised his sword.
“Hold on tight.”
Suddenly, Wang Yi Sam recalled Song Hyeon slicing through the ark’s thick planks with sword qi.
Wouldn’t Song Hyeon be better for cutting the mast?
The mast was thicker than a man’s embrace. Hard to imagine Seo Baek’s greatsword cleaving it, qi or no.
Anxious, Wang Yi Sam asked,
“Should I come down and help?”
“You staying there is helping, Senior.”
“Huh?”
As Wang Yi Sam puzzled, Seo Baek swung his raised sword at a slant.
The mast, rotted tough from years of damp, split like firewood under the blade.
Crack.
Wang Yi Sam gulped.
Good thing I didn’t suggest Song Hyeon. Would’ve eaten my words.
Song Hyeon’s qi shredded anything razor-sharp; Seo Baek brute-forced splits with raw power!
Soon the ark neared the watchtower.
Whoosh.
Seo Baek inhaled deeply, then exhaled.
Shika Manor, nestled in Sichuan’s snowy western mountains.
Endless cold and blizzards meant daily woodcutting for Seo Baek and his martial brothers.
Master ordered swords over axes—for felling and splitting. Toppling a mast? Child’s play.
Seo Baek struck: down at a slant, then up from below.
Split split.
The mast’s center wedged open, splinters flying.
Now.
Thwack. Spinning, Seo Baek back-kicked the mast hard.
It teetered sideways, then accelerated into a full collapse.
Atop it, Wang Yi Sam realized why: his weight as a counterbalance sped the fall.
He hugged the mast, straining every muscle, and bellowed.
“Raaagh! You little punk!”
Thanks to Wang Yi Sam... no, Seo Baek’s perfect timing, the mast snagged mid-platform.
Boom. Rumble.
The circular platform hooked perfectly.
Mast and tower tangled, the tower toppling toward the canal.
Thus, mast and tower bridged ark to canal’s far side.
A literal bridge!
Seo Baek smirked faintly.
Better than expected.
Smile fleeting, his gaze hardened as he leaped onto the makeshift bridge.
Meanwhile, the collision’s shock loosened Wang Yi Sam’s grip.
“Gaaah...!”
As he plummeted toward the canal amid tower debris, Seo Baek dashed up and grabbed his collar.
Snap.
“J-Junior?”
“Well done.”
“...”
Normally, Wang Yi Sam would scoff at being a mere counterweight.
But Seo Baek’s words rang different.
Just follow him blindly.
Unimaginable genius crushed foes and clinched victories.
And he never abandoned comrades in peril.
On a battlefield, the troops’ unshakeable commander!
“Song Senior!”
Mission accomplished, Seo Baek called out.
Song Hyeon, backpedaling while slashing blood ghosts, didn’t turn.
Dohwa Gwang and the assassins, curious, glanced back—and gaped at the mast-tower bridge.
“Ha! They’re completely insane!”
These assassins, famed in unorthodox circles, had faced countless orthodox elites.
Some matched Seo Baek’s strength, others Song Hyeon’s finesse.
But none synced so seamlessly.
Kill one, capture the other for Yongjeong Inn’s bounty?
Even fearless killers now doubted easy coin.
Still, blood ghosts swarmed relentlessly.
Undying revenants ignored slashes—possible only because bottlenecks at deck entrances bought time.
Song Hyeon bisected a lead ghost’s torso, dropping the upper half to clog the stairs temporarily, then vaulted toward the mast.
The assassins carved a flurry, then bolted after.
The ark surged forward, making the precarious mast-tower span sway wildly, worse than a cliffside net bridge.
Yet Song Hyeon crossed like flat ground.
He landed on the dock where the tower stood; Seo Baek raised his sword vertically.
Plunging it into the debris would collapse the fragile link.
Blood ghosts—and assassins—couldn’t follow.
Did he owe unorthodox scum any martial honor?
Seo Baek shook his head coldly.
No.