Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: Fall of the Ghost Sword Leader
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Shwaaak!
The boldly thrust blade of Cheongram severed the right arm of the Ghost Sword Society Leader. He had intended to behead him in one stroke, but the leader twisted his body just before the blade arrived.
He had barely preserved his life, but the Ghost Sword Society Leader's condition was a total mess.
His mouth was filled with bloody foam from internal injuries caused by the sword strike's shockwave. With his remaining hand, he clutched the spurting stump, staggering unsteadily.
"Y-You dare...!"
He bellowed, but there was none of the previous intimidation. His face was a wretched mix of shock and terror.
As a fellow warrior, Yuk Jin-yang could understand the man's feelings.
'He must be feeling a profound sense of loss.'
No matter how transcendent a martial artist, they were ultimately human, bound by flesh and bone. Throughout history, those truly free from the body's limitations could be counted on one hand.
Losing an arm disrupted the body's balance from the ground up. It affected footwork, sword arts—scarcely any aspect remained untouched. All the lifetime's efforts poured into his killing techniques had gone to waste.
His career as an assassin was over. While masters existed who overcame physical deficits, that required ample time—time Yuk Jin-yang had no intention of granting his foe.
He fully released the now-useless Reverse Energy Technique and aimed his sword at the enemy. His youthful face, far exceeding everyone's expectations, was revealed. The Ghost Sword Society Leader's eyes bulged wide.
Screams erupted from the surroundings.
"The Leader lost to that bloodied brat?!"
"This can't be real..."
"What do we do now?"
Chaos broke out belatedly. In turn, the clash of weapons ceased abruptly.
Glancing back, Yuk Jin-yang saw King Chu's generals and the alliance seniors staring in stunned disbelief. They hadn't expected him not just to hold out, but to win outright.
A bizarre silence descended.
It was the conclusion after countless words had crossed. The surreal reality finally sank in, sealing everyone's lips.
In contrast, Yuk Jin-yang's mouth moved slightly, shattering the quiet.
"Five breaths."
He revived the taunt from just before the fight began. His low voice rang out clearly for all to hear.
Without needing more, the Ghost Sword Society Leader's face flushed crimson with humiliation. Seeing the mix of shame and rage on his foe's face brought a strange satisfaction.
Yuk Jin-yang finally concluded.
"That's more than enough to kill you."
"You're insane."
The leader spat venomously, eyes darting desperately for an escape. Yuk Jin-yang gripped his sword hilt with both hands. It was time to end this fight.
The moment he unleashed Sword Shadow Strike to cleave him in one blow—
"Leader, get back!"
"We'll take it from here!"
Shouts from behind drew attention, accompanied by surging killing intent.
"Where do you think you're going?"
It was Won Yeong's voice. Yu Baek joined in, preventing what could have become a wheel battle. Their ringing iron and sword drew blood.
But they had fulfilled their role adequately.
They bought the Ghost Sword Society Leader a moment to retreat. He leaped onto the ship's mast, then soared again toward his subordinates, dripping blood all the way.
The battlefield shifted dramatically.
As some assassins risked everything to intervene, King Chu's generals countered fiercely. Naturally, groups clustered, eyeing each other's formations.
"You held out brilliantly. Perfectly done."
Won Yeong whispered breathlessly. No time even for transmission arts. Yuk Jin-yang just nodded. He was preoccupied scanning ahead with senses and glances.
The Ghost Sword Society assassins formed a sword formation, steadying their breaths. Desperately protecting their leader.
Did he command real loyalty among his men, worthy of the title Leader? The truth was unknowable, but appearances suggested as much.
"Well, they can't flee now anyway."
Yuk Jin-yang muttered. Hearing him, some assassins ground their teeth.
Even amid the fierce battle, the ship pressed on leisurely, having crossed most of the strait. No footing for lightness skills to escape.
Unless reenacting the legend of Bodhidharma crossing the river on a single reed leaf, the assassins were pinned to the ship.
No one here had reached such lightness skill realms as crossing rivers on a reed or lily pads. At best, they'd sink after a few steps on water.
Even the Ghost Sword Society Leader, their best hope, was gravely wounded and barely standing.
King Chu's generals murmured urgently.
"Anyone got a sleeve bow or throwing arrows? Nock them. We can shoot them down anytime."
"I've got one."
"No worries, we've got cluster shots too. They can't escape here."
The group sharpened their momentum without charging. Victory was already sensed.
A cornered rat bites the cat. No need to risk cutting their last breath—the moment they reached the destination, King Chu's forces would sweep them away.
The enemy quickly grasped the intent and whispered among themselves.
"What now? We'll just die isolated like this."
"Leader, we should risk death and head inside to stop the ship."
Some vented dissatisfaction.
"Damn it, what can we do with that one-armed freak? The Leader's done for! Everything's ruined. Why'd we mess with King Fan?"
"Screw this! I'm finding my own way out."
"Me too! Take me with you!"
Unable to bear the pressure, some leaped overboard first. Thrashing to swim free.
But arrows and hidden weapons pierced their vitals instantly.
Surprisingly, imperial troops and assassins shared expertise in projectiles and hidden weapons. Unlike jianghu fights, battlefields ignored weapon taboos or customs.
And finally.
Thud!
The ship neared the shallow riverbank and dropped anchor, gouging deep marks in the soft earth as it halted.
Yuk Jin-yang glanced around. King Chu's banners already fluttered everywhere.
Dong, dong, dong...
Heavy war drums shook the space, oppressive. Imperial soldiers slammed spear butts and roared in unison.
The assassins shrank further before the overwhelming sight. Half-hearted, their will broken.
From the strict imperial formation, King Chu appeared astride a great steed. Assassins' desperate projectiles were blocked by his guards.
King Chu raised his arm coldly toward the assassins.
"Spare none. No prisoners needed—kill them all."
The troops' echoing affirmation shook heaven and earth.
It was a one-sided slaughter.
Before thousands of troops, the assassins' resistance meant nothing. No proper weapon clashes—just screams and bodies crumpling everywhere.
King Chu's encirclement consisted of martial-trained soldiers, experts at handling small elite foes.
In rotations, they rivaled even orthodox sects. No chance of losing to wounded assassins head-on.
Ultimately, the Ghost Sword Society melted like iron scraps in a blaze. Neither fleeing with lightness skills nor begging on the ground spared them.
For a group once poised to claim a seat among the Seven Black Forest Calamities, their end was utterly pathetic.
Finally, spears targeted the one-armed Ghost Sword Society Leader. Around him lay his last guards, dead in defense of their lord.
Sensing his end, he laughed hollowly, gazing skyward with lament.
"Even now, you won't show...?"
With those cryptic words, he calmly accepted the incoming weapons. Soon, his spot held only a mangled corpse.
Roaring cheers erupted. Meanwhile, those who fought hard from the ship collapsed or sat exhausted on the dirt.
Yuk Jin-yang felt drained and flopped down. A soft breeze brushed his forehead.
How long had he lain? A shadow fell over him. Won Yeong bent down, looking at him.
"Thirsty?"
Won Yeong offered a bamboo tube of water, droplets beading on it.
The unexpected kindness from his senior was most welcome. After the brutal fight, thirst gnawed as fiercely as fatigue. Yuk Jin-yang quenched it, wiping his mouth before asking what puzzled him.
"What happened to the Blood Sword Sect Leader? No body in sight."
"We settled it on the ship. But it's unsatisfying. I wanted him to suffer more before dying."
The mention of the ship recalled someone forgotten amid the chaos.
"Speaking of which, a woman crashed onto the ship mid-fight. She's a Royal Guard..."
"Over there."
Won Yeong nodded sideways. A bound woman sat against a stump.
It was Kwak Min. The Royal Guard from Shandong, granddaughter of founding merit Duke Kwak Yeong.
She had appeared gravely wounded out of nowhere, but he'd completely forgotten her amid battling the leader. Fortunately, Won Yeong had handled her in the interim.
"Long time no see."
Yuk Jin-yang tried greeting her. No response.
Her eyes were glazed. She turned away consciously, so she was aware.
Worlds apart from their Shandong encounter. No trace of her arrogant confidence.
She seemed utterly broken. Won Yeong clicked his tongue and explained.
"She's in deep shock. Watching a comrade die before her eyes would do that."
Two others came to mind—Yun Hyu and Yun Gang. Cheeky even cornered. No fond connection, but Yuk Jin-yang silently prayed for their souls.
Then.
Grrrrr...!
The ground trembled as scattered flesh and blood floated upward. Everyone's eyes widened at the eerie sight.
Grotesque power bewildering gods and spirits. The phrase flashed through minds.
"What the hell is that...!"
"D-Demonry at work?"
The soldiers panicked en masse.
Most were illiterate roughnecks, memorizing simplified oral formulas for basic martial arts. Superstitions, taboos, and old ways held strong sway.
The generals knew this, drawing swords to play vanguard.
"Hold positions! Disrupt discipline with panic, and this blade ends you!"
"It's some trick. Reckless movers face military law."
In the uproar, Yuk Jin-yang sprang up like a弹 shot, scanning around.
On a nearby low hill.
A crowd gathered. All wore lotus-etched hero bands on foreheads, surrounding a stone coffin. White Lotus Cultists.
Yuk Jin-yang frowned.
'What's their game?'
Especially eye-catching: a stone coffin upright among them, lid chained and plastered with talismans—positively macabre.
A man emerged from the White Lotus group. Demonic aura poured from him. Even his gait felt sinister.
Like a thunderbolt beauty from the outer reaches? As Yuk Jin-yang pondered, the man drew his waist sword and struck the chains.
Kwaang! Kiiik—.
The lid opened. Inside was equally bizarre: shattered bones impaled on iron spikes.
'To deny rest even in death?'
Yuk Jin-yang dismissed the thought.
Even traitors suffering bone-shattering gales or coffin-splitting deserved no such sadistic punishment. Better to rot in wilds.
This looked more like sealing an impure, demonic entity.