Chapter 85
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: Yaksha and Oni
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Shibata Katsuie followed behind Il-yeong, her mask firmly in place. And soon, they could no longer conceal their bewilderment and fury at the sight unfolding before them.
―Gaaah!
With screams echoing, samurai of the Hirate family clutched their wounds and collapsed. Attacking the group of just over twenty were easily more than a hundred samurai and ashigaru.
And seeing this, Il-yeong bit his lip and called out to Itsuki standing beside him.
"Itsuki."
"Yes."
Perhaps steadied somewhat by having brought Il-yeong here, Itsuki regulated his ragged breathing and responded. Just then, Akechi Mitsuhide came running toward them as well, and Il-yeong asked,
"Did I misjudge?"
"……."
There had been the option to burn Suemori Castle to the ground entirely and drag back only Dota Gozen and Nobuyuki alive. They could have slaughtered everyone in the castle and dyed the river red with blood.
Yet he hadn't.
His own condition had been a concern, but more than that, he figured they at least knew what kind of dire straits Owari—and they themselves—were in.
He had even spoken directly with Nobuyuki and Dota Gozen, after all.
But realizing that this oversight had failed to account for these utterly foolish fools filled Il-yeong with uncontainable rage.
Dota Gozen,
Nobuyuki.
If this was the answer they sent, he had no more reason to hold back.
"My lord...!"
Just then, the arriving Akechi Mitsuhide looked frantic, the word "retreat" on the tip of her tongue. Over a hundred against twenty-odd poorly armed men—the outcome was already clear.
But in that moment.
"Akechi Mitsuhide. Itsuki."
Il-yeong murmured the names of his two trusted limbs, and with a shring— he drew his sword and commanded,
"Protect Lord Shibata."
"Pardon?"
"Th-then...?"
He had ordered an escort, not a flight.
Even Shibata Katsuie, hearing this, stared at Il-yeong's back and seemed about to say something.
But Il-yeong added as he strode toward the oncoming samurai,
"I'll be right back."
And then.
"Dieee!"
As a samurai thrust his long spear, Il-yeong lightly dodged, seized the shaft, bound it, and slashed.
Slice,
"Gurgle..."
A single horizontal cut.
And with it, the nameless samurai's life ended. Il-yeong didn't spare a glance for the falling corpse as he pressed forward.
In that instant, a samurai shouted,
"Capture Hirate Hikage!"
"We outnumber them vastly! Push forward without fear!"
As they said, twenty-odd against over a hundred meant the smaller force had no chance. Thus, every Hirate samurai fending off the onslaught bore wounds.
...That didn't sit right with him.
"Kuhk!"
Another samurai crumpled to the ground, bleeding. Il-yeong didn't recall his name, but he was one of the Hirate family's retainers. And he had entered Suemori Castle on none other than Il-yeong's orders.
"Gurgle..."
Thus, his death clutching his spilling guts at Il-yeong's feet was entirely Il-yeong's responsibility.
Had he been too complacent?
He hadn't thought that Nobuyuki and Dota Gozen, sharp as they were, were unaware the tide had turned.
Yet those mother and daughter had betrayed his mercy.
The fury of it had Il-yeong cleaving the charging samurai's neck in a single stroke.
Slice, thud!
One sword stroke.
The severed head tumbled across the dirt, leaving a splatter of blood droplets in its wake.
Swipe.
He wiped the blood from his face.
And with a murderous glare at the samurai slowly encircling him, he intoned,
"They attacked an envoy who came under a white flag to parley, and slaughtered his men."
Even in these chaotic times, there were rules. In even bloodier eras past, slaying an envoy under truce drew universal condemnation.
"And now you swarm to take my head...?"
Shring.
The blade of Onimaru Kunitsuna, gifted by Oda Nobunaga, flashed silver, and with cold eyes he added,
"You started this."
To claim a life, one must steel oneself for death in turn. Thus, Il-yeong intended no mercy for them.
He wasn't some saintly sage, to begin with.
And there was no reason he should be.
―Fling!
Il-yeong flicked the blood from Onimaru Kunitsuna and fixed his gaze on them. And in that moment.
"Chop off his limbs if you have to!"
"Just keep him alive!"
Soon, the samurai roared and charged at him.
*
Akechi Mitsuhide stared blankly at Il-yeong's back. No, not just her—friend and foe alike were transfixed by his feats.
He deflected a stabbing sword from the front, smashed the foe's masked face with his shoulder, and tripped him. Then blocked an overhead slash, drew the dagger from the man's belt, and plunged it into his lung.
All in under a minute.
His fluid parries and counters exemplified why he was called a yaksha. Yet he wasn't invincible.
"Kuh!"
Sometimes a blade grazed his shoulder. Sometimes his thigh. Often it threatened his life.
But despite it all, Il-yeong commanded the momentum—not the hundred he'd brought, but he with his twenty-odd.
Already over ten samurai lay dead by his hand. Even encircled, he refused to yield, cutting them down relentlessly.
His overwhelming presence had the samurai eyeing their numerical superior fearfully.
And then.
"Akechi!"
"Yes!"
At Itsuki's shout, Akechi Mitsuhide snapped back to reality and slashed a charging ashigaru. The samurai were all fixated on Il-yeong, leaving the escorts to handle the ashigaru.
Of course, with Shibata Katsuie—who matched Il-yeong's prowess—joining, they could rout them all. But the situation was too tangled.
"……."
Shibata Katsuie.
Though a rebel leader staying with Il-yeong, she was still Nobuyuki's woman. Defeat on the field was acceptable. But fighting alongside him here would brand her a traitor.
She knew this all too well, hence her hesitation.
But then.
Her eyes locked on Il-yeong mercilessly carving through the enemy, and his voice brushed her ear.
―In the end, it's I who bears it all.
"Shibata!"
She glanced at the ashigaru stabbing wildly at her. Moments ago, he'd defended her as "Oni Shibata" in Suemori Castle. Now he lunged like she was his mortal foe.
The reason was simple: he knew she couldn't draw her sword.
Drawing it here and striking would scream defection.
Even if all went perfectly, some would doubt her loyalty, others decry her honor.
'But.'
Shibata Katsuie thought.
Blame was inevitable either way...
'Hirate Hikage. No. Baek Il-yeong.'
Better to aid the man who'd shown her kindness, called her beautiful—even if insincere.
Thus, with natural grace, she gripped her sword hilt and stepped forward.
She slipped between Itsuki and Akechi Mitsuhide guarding her. As they spotted her and opened their mouths to shout—
―Stab.
"...Huh?"
Her blade pierced the heart of the ashigaru who'd just sworn to kill her. He stared, trembling, alternating between her and the sword in wide-eyed disbelief that she'd act.
But Shibata Katsuie, who had struck, thought:
How easy this was.
No reason not to.
As she withdrew her blade, a pink chunk of heart clung to the blood groove and fell to the dirt.
"Sh-Shibata Katsuie has betrayed us—!"
A panicked cry rang through the field. Only then did they realize where they'd barged in, trembling in realization.
"You've made a grave decision, Lord Shibata."
"...It's all over now."
Il-yeong, seizing a breather, said this to her. Shibata Katsuie replied in a voice laced with resignation and relief, slowly approaching him.
The yaksha and oni's shoulders brushed. Standing at his side, she whispered softly,
"This is all your fault, Lord Baek. Take responsibility."
Lord Baek.
At those words, even furious Il-yeong burst into laughter for a moment.
And witnessing it, the samurai shuddered, fully grasping:
We're screwed.