Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: The Old Lair of the White Wolf
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“Over there.”
The spot Yo Pung pointed to was a massive sand dune. It was so tall that calling it a mountain peak wouldn’t have been out of place.
“I never imagined there’d be a sand dune that high.”
“It’s not just the dune. There’s a lake behind it, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Yo Pung nodded.
“Where are we staying?”
“Up there.”
Yo Pung pointed to the middle of the dune.
“Let’s go.”
The group climbed the sand dune. It was about a hundred zhang high to the midpoint. In the Taklamakan Desert, a hundred zhang made it the tallest dune around, but here dunes of that height were commonplace.
At the midpoint of the dune was a flat expanse backed by a sheer cliff. The flat ground looked as if someone had deliberately sliced off part of the dune to level it. The cliff was about twenty zhang high, riddled with dozens of caves—all man-made.
Ak Muyoo looked at Yo Pung.
“This is where our White Wolf Clan lived in their heyday.”
“Where’d they all go?”
“Killed in wars, died of plagues, and the survivors migrated to the Great Desert Wolf Heaven to live there.”
“How many White Wolf clansmen are left?”
“About five hundred, I’d say.”
“That’s not many.”
“They say there were tens of thousands here back in the day.”
“I can imagine.”
Some entered the caves while others scouted the surroundings. Ak Muyoo walked to the edge of the flat expanse. From there, visibility stretched hundreds of zhang out.
Climbing to the top of the dune would probably offer a view spanning thousands of zhang.
“This is probably the highest point around here, right?”
“Yeah.”
“O Pung, follow me.”
Ak Muyoo said as he headed toward the cliff.
The “O Pung” he called referred to all five at once: East Wind, West Wind, South Wind, North Wind, and Little Wind.
Dong Pung’s group approached Ak Muyoo.
“From now on, take down what I dictate.”
“On what?”
“The cliff.”
“...”
Dong Pung looked at Ak Muyoo with a puzzled expression.
“First up is a sword art. New Moon Hell Sword—no need to write the name.”
Ak Muyoo immediately began reciting the sword art’s formulas.
Dong Pung carved the formulas Ak Muyoo dictated onto the rocky cliff. The other four watched with keen interest as Dong Pung inscribed the martial arts manual.
“Huh?”
Their eyes widened at first.
“Insane...”
Then they alternated astonished glances between Ak Muyoo and the formulas. The techniques spilling from Ak Muyoo’s lips were at least as powerful as their own—if not more so.
“Who’s going to teach the sword art?”
“I will.”
Nam Pung raised his hand.
“Good. Next is saber art. Who’ll engrave it?”
Inscribing hundreds of characters’ worth of formulas onto rock wasn’t easy, even for powerful techniques.
“Since my hand’s up, I’ll do it.”
Nam Pung said.
“Alright.”
Ak Muyoo recited the next set of formulas.
“Damn it!”
A curse escaped Nam Pung’s lips as he carved. The technique Ak Muyoo dictated was a saber art—and like the sword art, it was extraordinary.
“What’s it called?”
Nam Pung asked after finishing the inscription.
“Moon Shadow Demon Saber Nine Forms.”
“Fits perfectly.”
Nam Pung nodded.
“Next...”
“I’ll do it.”
Seo Pung stepped up to the cliff.
Ak Muyoo recited again. This time, it was a palm technique called Shadow Demon Great Hand Seal. After that came Lion Iron Fist, a fist technique.
Finally, he inscribed his own movement skill, Flying Heaven Void Step.
The five stared at Ak Muyoo in a daze. They’d never dreamed his head held such staggering martial techniques.
“Everyone, gather up.”
At Ak Muyoo’s shout, the Wind Squadron members assembled before the cliff.
“These techniques carved on this wall once vied for supremacy in the Border Wastelands. You’ve all survived countless battles, making you demons in combat. Even if you don’t master what’s written here, you’ll grow several times stronger than you are now. Remember, in this war, you won’t survive without getting stronger—train with everything you’ve got. Ask O Pung any questions, and they’ll answer with all sincerity.”
“We can really learn these?”
So Pung asked.
“No time—start now.”
“Th-thank you.”
So Pung bowed, eyes glistening with tears.
It wasn’t just him. The others gazed at Ak Muyoo with moved expressions.
“I believe in you all. You’re all geniuses. You just never had a good master or superior techniques to shine. I told O Pung, but I have no dantian. That’s why I know these arts but can’t practice them. Sword qi, sword force—they’re dreams to me. But you’re different. If you set your minds to it, you can master them. You have one month. I’ll buy that much time somehow, so train enough to survive.”
Ak Muyoo was betting on the potential of these hundred. Including the new recruits, the Wind Squadron numbered well over twenty thousand—maybe even thirty thousand.
These hundred were the survivors from thirty thousand. Beating three-hundred-to-one odds couldn’t be chalked up to luck alone.
They harbored untapped potential he hadn’t even drawn out himself—and that’s how they’d survived this long.
Now, over the next month, he had to pull it out and forge them into perfect warriors.
“Got it. We’ll train with our lives.”
So Pung nodded.
“Begin.”
“Let’s go.”
The hundred each chose a technique and sat in meditation before it. But it wasn’t just them—Dong Pung and the other five sat before the inscribed cliff as well.
Ak Muyoo watched them a moment, then ascended to the dune’s summit.
“Wow!”
Looking east, he let out an exclamation. Countless lakes dotted the landscape. It didn’t feel like a desert at all.
He turned north. Almost no lakes there.
“What’re you doing?”
Yo Pung’s voice came from behind.
Ak Muyoo turned. Yo Pung was climbing up, carrying something.
“What’s that?”
“Liquor? Thought you might want a drink.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know you had no dantian.”
“No reason you would—I never told you.”
“That’s why you learned that weird technique.”
“Beast Blood Demon Art?”
“Yeah.”
“Is the Beast Blood Demon Art weird?”
“You look like a beast.”
“Fair enough. Did you used to live over there before?”
Ak Muyoo pointed toward the lakes.
“I don’t know. By the time I was born, we’d already fallen.”
“When did it end?”
“Our White Wolf Clan was the backbone of the Da Ha Kingdom.”
“Da Ha?”
“It was originally Da Ha, but the Central Plains folk demeaned it as Western Xia.”
“I see.”
“The Da Ha Kingdom was the only one to repel Mongol invasions led by Genghis Khan six times.”
“They surrendered in the end, though, right?”
“But not completely. We only pretended to. Then Genghis Khan ordered the Da Ha king to join the western conquests, and we refused. He led another army to invade, and died during the war with Da Ha. Officially a chronic illness, but that was Mongol propaganda—he was assassinated. The one who drove the Phantom Hairpin into his heart was the White Wolf Clan’s greatest warrior, Faceless Demon Cat. If he’d died instantly, the tragedy might’ve been averted. He survived, and before dying, declared the next emperor the one who’d wipe out Da Ha’s line. That’s what led to it.”
Yo Pung gestured toward the empty expanse ahead.
“Didn’t they say not even a blade of grass survives a Mongol army?”
“The problem was... the survivors of that hell blamed Faceless Demon Cat for Da Ha’s fall. If he hadn’t assassinated Genghis Khan, the kingdom wouldn’t have perished, they said.”
“People who endure the unbearable always shove the blame onto someone else. That’s probably it.”
“If he weren’t my ancestor, I’d say the same.”
“He was from your family?”
“The kingdom’s top clan back then. That’s why they took on the assassination. Because of it, we suffered worst from the Mongols. But our tormentors weren’t just them. After the Mongols ravaged us, Da Ha’s own people stormed in and looted.”
“Tch!”
Ak Muyoo clicked his tongue.
That was too much.
“Our ancestor assassinated Genghis Khan solely to save the kingdom, yet they branded our house traitors forever. Twenty years ago, they even drove out what few of us remained. Wandering homeless, I lost my parents, brother, and little sister—only I survived.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“I wanted revenge. I’d do anything if it meant learning martial arts. Funny thing—world’s full of so-called experts, but not one tossed me a scrap. Even selling my body barely got me that much.”
Wind Squadron’s Yo Pung.
That’s what she’d earned since age twelve, pouring her soul into it.
“Why join the Wind Squadron?”
“Hoped to learn some martial arts.”
“Bad choice.”
“No. Best choice ever.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I got to eat the Public Crystal Oil and learn incredible techniques.”
“That’s not incredible. The real deal’s elsewhere.”
“There’s more?”
“Interested?”
“Hell yes.”
“Listen closely.”
“You’re really teaching me?”
“Listen.”
Ak Muyoo immediately recited the formulas.
Yo Pung focused intently.
“Gasp!”
At one point, Yo Pung let out a groan. She stared at Ak Muyoo in shock, then tears streamed down her face.
“Won’t repeat it. Focus.”
“O-okay.”
Yo Pung bit her lip. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she ignored it, committing the formulas to memory with total concentration.
What Ak Muyoo recited was the White Wolf Clan’s supreme art, White Wolf Creation Thousand Stances. Lost fifteen hundred years ago, only fragments survived, from which countless techniques derived. Essentially, all White Wolf arts stemmed from it.
Ak Muyoo kept reciting until Yo Pung memorized it all.
At last, Yo Pung closed her eyes.
She had it all. Ak Muyoo turned to gaze west. The sun hung on the horizon’s edge, pouring out its final crimson blaze before sinking, dying the world red.
“Hey.”
Yo Pung’s voice came.
Ak Muyoo turned. She was looking his way, tears flowing.
“Crying?”
“I’d give you my life if you asked.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘Thanks—at least with words’?”
“I’m different. I’ll etch it in my bones.”
“I’m Yora.”
“Pretty name.”
He’d heard it from Dali but played it cool.
“Thanks. But how’d you get White Wolf Creation Thousand Stances?”
“Slipped out of the Solar God Temple via the underground river. Ended up in a cave with the Heaven Earth Solar Token.”
“That belonged to Great Radiant Martial of the Solar Heaven Martial Sect.”
“Got his stuff too. Not super useful, but hey—the bow’s great.”
“That bow...?”
“Yeah.”
“You gave the Heaven Earth Solar Token to Ageukta too?”
“Didn’t need it.”
“Like the Solar Tablet?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you met Cheon Yu General after?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you sleep together?”
“...?”
“You traveled with her for months.”
“You were with her seven years.”
“Pfft!”
Yo Pung snickered and stood. Time to train her new art.
“Good luck.”
Ak Muyoo said.
“Yeah.”
Yo Pung gazed at him a moment, then descended. Ak Muyoo stayed until the sun fully set. When darkness fell and cold swept in, he went down.