Escape Through the Rapids
You must secure the secretary with everything you have.
I withdrew the Hyeol-yeong-mu-hwan-sin-sul.
I applied the Hwan-yeong-dae-sin-bo.
There was no question that the Hyeol-yeong-mu-hwan-sin-sul was an overwhelmingly superior footwork technique to the Hwan-yeong-dae-sin-bo. But I still lacked the proficiency to weave it through a chaotic melee and its endless variables.
I poured every scrap of strength into the chase, racing after the secretary who had already pulled ahead. The downpour made it hard even to keep my eyes open. The rain only grew fiercer.
“After him!”
Behind me, martial artists howled curses as they gave chase.
“Hyah! Hyah!!”
The secretary flogged the horses as if he had gone mad. He raced at the front, I hunted him, and the martial artists hunted me in turn—a grim procession through the storm.
Clink.
I glanced at the chain gauntlet wrapped around my left hand—the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap. It was the artifact I had received from the patriarch of the Namgung Family. Without it, that earlier strike would have killed me on the spot.
Right. In the Jianghu, you never let your guard down.
Pahwanggun’s words rose unbidden in my mind.
It’s half a joke, but do you know the absolute law of the Jianghu?
He had said it while rapping me on the head as I lay sprawled after training with a boulder in my arms.
What is it?
Every martial artist would rather die with honor than pass away peacefully in bed.
I had scowled in misery at that, then snorted at the sheer absurdity of it.
That’s just an old fairy tale.
Anyway, you fool.
So what is it? This absolute law of the Jianghu.
Pahwanggun had held up a finger.
The greater a master becomes, the more certain it is that he will meet his end at the hands of some low-rank nobody.
I shook my head hard.
Damn it. One near-death and my head fills with useless nonsense!
Back then I had not understood a word of it. I had simply stared at Pahwanggun, unable to grasp how a true master could ever fall to an inferior. Now I knew. This was exactly what he had meant.
I survived a hundred death traps, only to nearly die like a dog in a place like this!
Gwak Ido of the Jongnam Sect—whom I had met at Emei—flashed through my mind. His skill had been real enough. But he had looked down on me, grown complacent, and arrogantly held back his true techniques. The price had been his limbs shattered in a single explosive instant by someone who unleashed everything without hesitation. I had mocked him for it… and then, without noticing, I had begun to do the exact same thing.
I swore it again, silently and fiercely. I would never grow complacent. Even when catching a rabbit, I would use my full strength.
Clatter-clatter!
The one silver lining was that the secretary was driving the carriage toward the outer grounds. The area grew emptier the farther we went, carrying us clear of Cheonsubaekryeonsa. Had he fled deeper inside, my situation would have grown worse by the second.
There’s still a chance to turn this around!
I poured on more speed. And it was a carriage—if he had been on a single horse, catching him would have been agony. But a multi-horse carriage, for all its raw power, was heavy and sluggish. Bit by bit the secretary’s figure drew closer.
“Eek! Stay away!”
He twisted around, saw me closing the gap, and went white with terror.
Thud!
I finally seized the rear of the carriage. Gasping as if my lungs would burst, I clung to it. Every breath dragged rainwater into my mouth. I planted my feet—only for the mud caked on them to send me skidding.
Crash!
I grabbed the railing and barely kept from falling. My lower body dragged across the ground; I nearly tore free entirely. Mud sprayed everywhere.
“Ghh!”
I drove every ounce of strength into a push off the earth and flung myself upward, latching onto the roof.
Jolt.
A rock snagged a wheel; the carriage bucked hard.
“Gah!”
I bit my tongue. Blood sprayed from my mouth. My upper body was nearly thrown free, but I locked my grip and held on. The impact slowed the carriage for a precious heartbeat.
“You bastard!”
The pursuing martial artists swarmed onto the carriage like a cloud of flies.
“Damn it!”
I scrambled upright and sprinted for the driver’s seat. Through the sheets of rain the secretary stared up at me, face twisted in pure horror.
“You son of a—!”
A martial artist snared my ankle.
Crash!
I went down. He mounted me and raised his blade. I had expected it from the start, and now it was certain—these were killing techniques. Their purpose was to murder me on the spot and silence every witness.
“Ghh!”
I caught the descending steel on the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap.
“Y-you—!”
The tip of the blade trembled. He poured every scrap of strength into driving it down. The weight forced me lower; the point began to carve toward the furrowed space between my brows.
“Aaaargh!!!”
I clamped both hands around the blade. Crimson light flared in my eyes like sparks leaping from a forge.
“Y-your eyes…?!”
The man recoiled in shock.
Crunch!!
My grip crumpled the short sword like tin. He screamed as the warped edge filled his vision.
“How can a human—ghk!”
My fist smashed into his cheek. Teeth flew; he collapsed. I straddled him at once.
“S-someone he—!”
I drove my fist down. Twice. On the third blow a flash of steel came from the side; I caught that blade as well.
“Y-you monster!”
Martial artists were climbing from every direction. Rain made the carriage roof treacherous.
Jolt!
The runaway carriage struck another rock and bucked skyward.
“Whoa!”
“Aaaaah!”
Several men were flung clear. Even those still standing toppled together. I seized that single instant and threw myself forward.
“Aaaargh!”
A bolt of pure white lightning speared the sky. The storm swallowed every sound. In that roaring darkness we closed to pure melee—a savage free-for-all.
The secretary looked up at the roof and shrieked.
“Th-that thing is a ghost! A ghost!”
Spittle flying, he whipped the horses into a frenzy. Foam flecked their mouths. Atop the violently lurching carriage, more than a dozen bodies tangled together, fists and blades flashing without pause.
Crack! Crunch!
Another nose shattered under my knuckles. A jaw dislocated. A heel-strike snapped a knee.
Clang! Clang-clang!
I used the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap as a shield, turning blade after blade.
“Wh-what is that gauntlet?! How is it stopping live steel?!”
The martial artists screamed.
“Where did this monster come from?! An outsider?!”
“How can someone of this level be inside Cheonsubaekryeonsa?!”
I reseated the iron gauntlet on my left hand. It was the sole reason I could still fight them on even terms while unarmed. Perhaps So Yeomgyo had chosen this very artifact as her price because she had foreseen nights exactly like this one.
Among the Ten Great Treasures of the Martial World, so long as its wielder is not a Guardian of the Nine Sects and One Gang or one of the Eight Demon Dragons, this will never be cut.
That was what Namgung Hwiyul, patriarch of the Namgung Family, had told me when he gifted it. It was no exaggeration. Countless blades had scraped across the black iron, yet not a single scratch marred its surface.
Still, the rain-slick, endlessly pitching roof kept every fighter from showing his true skill. It was pure chaos. Even with the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap turning the worst of the steel, blood was beginning to soak my clothes.
And something else was coming.
I had felt it for some time now. Beyond the howling martial artists, moving through the rain-lashed shadows, something pursued us—a single streak of green light.
I have to break free!
If this dragged on, I would simply exhaust myself until I collapsed. And that end would be annihilation.
The carriage was racing along a raging flood channel. Broken logs tumbled past in the torrent. I knocked out another martial artist clinging to me and hurled him away, then seized the carriage railing.
“Haaah!”
With every ounce of power I slammed my fist into the axle of a wheel.
Neeeigh!
The wheel exploded. The carriage overturned. Bodies went flying. I rolled through the mud, then the instant I stopped I kicked free and sprinted.
The secretary was just rising; his terrified face filled my vision.
Crack!
My kick shattered his nose. That single blow ended any further resistance. I dragged him with me as I retreated.
“Haa… haa!”
I yanked my slipped mask back into place. This one had to live. Only then could I interrogate him.
…
One by one the martial artists rose from the rain-lashed earth and closed in. Behind us the flood roared. To one side the horses with broken legs were dying, snorting their last. I snatched a spare coil of rope from the wrecked carriage.
“The circus ends here.”
I had thought I had thinned them enough, yet more than ten still remained.
Shing.
They drew their swords. Eyes narrowed, they advanced. Continuous rain had leached the warmth from my body; I forced my trembling hands steady.
“Mumyeong—signal me!”
Understood.
I bound the secretary and myself together with the rope.
“Surrender.”
They came closer as they spoke.
“Such skill is a waste. Whoever hired you, our master will gladly pay a far greater—”
“Shut up.”
I spat rainwater and snarled.
“Save the speeches until you kill the killing intent, you idiots.”
The martial artists chuckled.
“Caught us, did you?”
Their blades leveled.
“Heh. So we both die here.”
The secretary muttered through split lips.
“You actually thought they’d let us live? You saw how fast they discarded me. There’s no blood and no tears in this place. In the end you’re just the dog that chased the chicken—both of us skewered together. You really think escape is possible? We’re rats in a jar. How delightful.”
I snapped back at him.
“Shut your mouth. And tense your body if you don’t want your ribs broken.”
He stared up at me in bewilderment. The martial artists closed the last distance, blades ready.
“Both of you can die cleanly.”
I smirked. The expression made them falter.
“What’s so funny? Planning to swim the rapids?”
“No.”
I tightened my grip on the rope.
“I’m planning to fly.”
Now!
At Mumyeong’s shout I hurled the lasso of rope into the torrent. It snagged a massive log hurtling downstream.
Whiiip!
An impact that felt ready to snap every bone in my body seized us; the secretary and I were yanked into the air like stones from a sling.
“Wh-what—!”
The flood, swollen by the cloudburst, moved with terrifying force. The martial artists’ stunned faces seemed to hang for a moment, then dwindled to nothing. Muddy water flooded my mouth and nose. I clawed free of the current with everything I had left.
“Cough! Cough! Ugh!”
I hauled the secretary onto the bank as he vomited water by the bucketful. He stared at me in utter disbelief.
“Impossible… how could we slip their grasp like that…!”
I wrung the soaked mask where it covered my mouth and nose until the worst of the water was gone. Breathing became easier at last. Still panting, I looked down at him.
“Now we can finally have that intimate little chat we promised each other. Right?”
His face went deathly white. I kept breathing hard as I gazed down at him.
Crack.
I flexed my fingers. He scrambled backward on his heels. I spoke to him in a low voice.
“We worked so hard for this time together. Let’s have a nice, deep discussion about each other’s lives—”
Thud.
A single green flash.
The short dagger grazed my cheek and buried itself dead-center in the secretary’s forehead. His eyes rolled back; he died on the spot.
…
If that dagger had been aimed at me instead of him, I would be the one lying there. Ice crawled down my spine. I turned slowly.
“Whoa. That actually surprised me a little.”
Someone was walking toward us through the rain without a single footfall.
He followed the flood?
The man approached with a sound like dandelion fluff drifting on the wind. I knew him. I had seen him before.
“You’ve got a clever head on your shoulders. Thinking to ride the rapids… honestly, even I was impressed while I watched. So whose side are you on? The Lower Gate?”
He was clad head to toe in green martial robes. Not a single breath was out of place. I clenched my teeth until they creaked. I had always known we would meet someday. I had simply never wanted it to be in a place like this.
“Don’t feel like talking? Fine.”
Poison-coated hidden weapons appeared in his hands.
“Then you die.”
He was the man who had stood beside Moyong Jinryong, eldest son of the Moyong Family—none other than the Guardian of the Sichuan Tang Family.