Fangs Unyielding to the Blade
“Hm...?”
Gu Yang-so's brows furrowed as he led the Beggars' Sect disciples—who numbered more than those of any other sect—blazing a trail through the mountains. It was the faint crunch of leaves underfoot that reached the ears of this superb master.
Raising one hand, he brought the Murim Alliance forces crossing the mountains to an abrupt halt.
“What's the matter, Brother Beggar?”
Tang Ho-yeol, the head of the Sichuan Tang Clan—who had been guarding his side in preparation for any traps involving poison or hidden weapons—narrowed his eyes and scanned the surroundings.
“Hrm... It seems we should prepare that tonic we discussed earlier, Clan Head Tang.”
“Was that just now the presence of wild dogs?”
“Indeed. Though my realm may be lower than yours, Clan Head, no one in the world can claim greater expertise on mutts than us Beggars' Sect disciples. Heh heh.”
Tang Ho-yeol set aside his faint doubt about the presence he'd sensed and let out a chuckle at Gu Yang-so's words.
“If you say so, then it must be true. When it comes to dogs, your sect is unrivaled in the world.”
“Heh heh.”
“Still, just in case, I'll stick around. Even if it's meant as a tonic to soothe our rising battle spirit, the current situation is no different from war.”
Gu Yang-so's mouth, about to spit out another jest, clamped shut at Tang Ho-yeol's words—kind yet reasonable and stern. It was due to the killing intent slowly igniting in the man's eyes, now that the divine strength realm was within reach.
Gu Yang-so inwardly stuck out his tongue in admiration at how Tang Ho-yeol managed to conceal his rage over losing his daughter and play the part of an ordinary man. He nodded vigorously.
“Of course, with Clan Head Tang by my side, this old beggar can hunt without worry. No need to be so stiff about it. Then... I'll have the disciples handle it, so take a moment to catch your breath.”
“Hrm...”
At those words, Tang Ho-yeol nodded and gestured toward the lined-up Tang Clan warriors. Signals for rest rippled out in perfect order to the various sects.
The Beggars' Sect disciples bustled to new positions, and as the leadership issued orders to prepare camp, the entire Murim Alliance force relaxed in an instant, the atmosphere growing chaotic.
As camp preparations began, Gu Yang-so turned to the disciples now gathered around him and issued his command.
“It seems the pack of wild dogs I mentioned earlier has shown up. We're the Beggars' Sect, famed as the Nine Great Beggars, but our true calling is as beggars. Show them what you're best at.”
““Understood!””
Gu Yang-so chuckled at the usually free-spirited, prankish disciples who, mindful of the other sects' gazes, were putting on their most dashing airs. Taking the lead, he unleashed his movement technique.
It was just dealing with a pack of wild dogs, but with dozens of Beggars' Sect disciples of decent standing activating their techniques in unison under the watchful eyes of prestigious sects, admiration rippled through the onlookers, gasps of awe escaping their lips.
“As expected, when it comes to movement techniques, the Beggars' Sect is unrivaled.”
“Yes, senior brother. Though they lack the mystical profundity of our Daoist arts, their speed and stealth surpass even our Mount Hua Sect's techniques in those aspects.”
“Hm... Well, that's only natural. The Beggars' Sect is an information network of vagabonds roaming the entire country, after all.”
The Mount Hua Taoists' murmurs drew nods of agreement from disciples of nearby sects. Discussions and chatter about martial arts, starting with the Beggars' Sect's movement techniques, swelled uncontrollably, livening the mood.
It was a situation where an ambush might occur, but the sect leaders already knew the quality and numbers of the Demonic Cult's vanguard. With absolute confidence in their own skills, they saw no need to rein in the chaos—instead, they dove into deep martial arts debates themselves.
After all, gathering the prestigious sects of the Murim Alliance—from disciples to leaders—in one place was no easy feat...
And so, as the atmosphere heated endlessly with pride in the Beggars' Sect's incoming tonic and each sect's martial prowess, BOOOOM!!!
A colossal explosion—unlike any the leaders had ever heard—rang out, followed by screams echoing from the dark forest beyond where the Beggars' Sect disciples had vanished.
“W-what was that sound?!”
The forest's atmosphere shifted abruptly, the massive blast enough to instill fear in any listener. Sensing the gravity, the Murim Alliance Leader shot to his feet and bellowed at the frozen leaders.
“Everyone, form up! Now!”
Even as the Alliance Leader spoke, another explosion erupted. One might expect panic at such earth-shaking booms, but the weight of their prestigious names held firm. Under their sect heads and elders, the Alliance forces shook off the chaos, tension rising as they fixed their eyes forward.
“Alliance Leader... We must consider the possibility of those Demonic scum using thunder bombs.”
“Amitabha... To rush so extremely that even the imperial court would take issue...”
Though smaller than thunder bombs, the ongoing blasts and the panicked cries of wild beasts brought grave expressions to the faces of the Alliance Leader and the leaders watching the front.
“But... I don't see Clan Head Tang up front...”
Hyeonheo Jin-in's mention of the Sichuan Tang Clan—which seemed more chaotic than others without their head—drew a frown from the Mount Hua Sect Leader as he scanned the ranks. But he nodded in understanding.
“He was closest to the Beggars' Sect disciples. Looks like he moved to check for traps and poisons. Best to wait.”
Though displeased at the clan head breaking formation, his actions were prudent and correct. The Alliance Leader and others held their tongues, lips sealed.
Who was Tang Ho-yeol of the Sichuan Tang Clan? A Manifest Realm master versed in hidden weapons and poisons. No matter the ambush with gunpowder, it was child's play to one who wielded qi and knew weapons inside out.
Thus, the leaders soothed their sect members, calming the unrest while offering advice on the coming battle and ambushes, awaiting Tang Ho-yeol, Gu Yang-so, and the Beggars' Sect disciples' return.
How much time passed, assuming the fading explosions meant the Beggars' Sect and clan head were succeeding?
A Pointed Spear Sect warrior, positioned at the rear due to his lower realm, sensed a stealthy approach from behind. Drawing his spear fully, he whirled around—only to find a scrawny wild dog, its actions belying its emaciated frame. He scratched his head sheepishly and stepped toward the stationary beast.
“Hey. Breaking formation isn't good form, is it?”
Unlike his intrigued fellow disciples, a Peng Clan warrior eyed him suspiciously. The Pointed Spear warrior snorted.
“Hmph! When we're all standing around like idiots, what formation? Letting game walk right to us would be the real mistake.”
“W-well, that's true, but...”
“Just watch. We need emergency rations for the march anyway.”
With that, the Pointed Spear warrior unleashed his full killing intent toward the dog. Ordinarily, that alone would end a wild beast. The onlookers nodded approvingly—until the absurdity unfolded, drawing puzzled stares and mocking laughs from fellow warriors.
“Kekeke. How does a first-rate warrior get bitten by a dog? Kekeke.”
“What do you expect from the mighty Pointed Spear Sect? Kekeke.”
“Damn it!”
The dog had cowered, trembling in place under the killing intent—yet as he moved to slit its throat, it snapped his ankle without warning. Deep shame burned in the warrior as he lightning-struck with his drawn spear, severing head from body. Mocked not just himself but his sect over a mere mutt, sharp glares from his seniors prickled his back.
“Kuh... Uh, ngh...? What the hell is this mutt...”
Whether emergency rations or not, shame drove him to end it quick—but bewilderment crossed his face. A mere dog bite needed only golden wound salve, no big deal. But what he saw defied belief.
“H-hey, can wild dogs bite ankles even after their heads are cut off?”
“Sigh... Not just skill, but brains too? Classic Pointed Spear. Enough, get back in line before the chaos gets you in trouble.”
Under pitiful stares from others and averted eyes from his own embarrassed seniors, the red-faced warrior scratched his head furiously. He kicked the severed head—still clamped on his ankle—free and returned to his spot.
He vowed to redeem this humiliation in the clash with the Demonic Cult. Kicking innocent stones, he pulled golden wound salve from his bosom and slathered it on the wound.
'B-but... why's everything spinning...?'
His resolve burned bright, yet his vision blurred, mind reeling. His head grew hot, a sweet scent drifting into his nostrils. The female disciple's sour glare looked so soft and supple; the warriors' muscles seemed like prime cuts of meat.
Gulp... Whether from missing the tonic or something else, his stomach suddenly ached with ravenous hunger.