Chugwi (2): Why Am I Killing These People?
Namgoong Juhee wove the steel cables between the trees like a spider's web, and a thought suddenly crossed her mind.
Why am I killing these people?
It wasn't sympathy for the suddenly dying men or some newfound philosophical awakening.
Just pure curiosity.
In truth, Namgoong Juhee didn't have to kill anyone. There was a roundabout way—tedious, sure—through Shaanxi into Sichuan. She could've just let Dang Hwaeun die. The girl would end up captured and killed by the Plum Sword Unit someday anyway; no need to dirty her own hands.
So why had she, carrying the moral mindset of a modern South Korean man, chosen this path of murder?
Namgoong Juhee couldn't find the answer. And with that, she swept through the men trapped in Dang Hwaeun's snare, slicing them clean. Provoking the enemy to rattle their focus was basic before facing a strong foe.
"...You okay?"
As she strung the cables out like power lines, Dang Hwaeun's worried voice came from beside her.
She's such a young lady, after all.
There was no fair play in fights where lives were on the line. These scum had planned to grab a lone girl and rape her—no need for guilt.
Namgoong Juhee glanced over with that thought.
"Of course I'm fine. Seen this scene plenty of times."
"No, not that."
"Hm? Then what?"
"Your... breathing's shaky. You scared? Should we run together?"
At Dang Hwaeun's words, Namgoong Juhee realized her heart was pounding fast.
Fear? Not really afraid.
Anger? Not mad. What was there to get mad about?
Then why?
Her heart kept racing even as she pondered.
Forget it for now.
Her decision was swift. The life-or-death duel with Chugwi was right around the corner. Everything else was trivial. Letting this distract her was amateur hour.
"Run? Can you find the Dang young lady's escape route?"
"No, but..."
"Don't worry. I'm not scared, at least."
"...Don't get hurt."
Dang Hwaeun rested her head on Namgoong Juhee's shoulder.
What? Headbutt?
Keep spoiling her like this, and she'd really think she was a cat.
"Hide good when Chugwi shows. Nothing more annoying than a hostage."
"Yeah."
Namgoong Juhee patted Dang Hwaeun's head roughly.
Her hands were sticky with blood—gross. Plus, slippery hands in a fight spelled disaster.
Just then, she sensed one eerie presence amid three normal ones.
Chugwi's finally here.
Namgoong Juhee stopped weaving the cables and stood.
"Nice to meet you. Chugwi, right?"
"...Huhu. Chugwi, huh. Isn't what you're doing far more grotesque, young lady?"
Chugwi answered without hiding his rage.
He was one of the few in the Plum Sword Unit who valued his men. Treated them no different from nobles, even built camaraderie through "body talk" now and then.
Yet she'd not only killed them but desecrated their corpses. How could he not be furious?
"Me?"
"Yes, you, young lady. Look at what you're doing right now."
Namgoong Juhee glanced between Chugwi and the cables at his words.
Then—rip.
She tore the cable and hurled it at him.
"...What the—"
"Guess I did wrong. Crime's illegal dumping of trash, maybe."
"Listen, young lady. I'm not the patient type. If you want an easy death, shut that mouth."
Namgoong Juhee yawned theatrically in response.
"Yawwwn. Done talking?"
"...You fucking bitch!"
Chugwi's warriors flinched.
A curse from Chugwi, mild-mannered to a fault.
That was how furious he was—the exact reaction Namgoong Juhee had engineered.
Her heart pounded even harder.
"I'll cut off your head to appease their souls."
"Try it."
"You warriors, hold position. I'll handle this myself."
Chugwi raised his massive odachi from behind his back.
Doh!
Namgoong Juhee screamed inwardly.
What was an odachi? Filthy heavy, power comparable to a sword but obsolete.
Weapon power came down to sword qi, after all.
Still, lunatics wielded them—and they were all strong. Simple reason: the weak ones who tried were dead.
Proving it, Chugwi's footwork was light yet majestic.
Like an arrow shot straight! Then a thunderbolt slash!
This is Chugwi!
Namgoong Juhee's lips curled in ecstasy.
Boom!
Her sword rose to the upper left.
Obviously. To block a downward odachi, raise your sword up.
But why not dodge?
She excelled at parrying over blocking, evasion at pro level.
"Such...! A Namgoong!"
Miscellaneous thoughts vanished from Namgoong Juhee's mind.
Then, a heavy lift like hoisting the Earth!
The profound weight of the Emperor Sword Form launched Chugwi into the air.
"Condition perfect!"
Simultaneously, two sharp silver needles flew from her sleeve.
No footing in midair—no twist possible. Block? Balance utterly shattered.
"Guhk!"
Instinct took over. He reached to block the needles—and they pierced his palm dead-on.
Then a normal landing.
"Not over yet, young lady!"
"That's how it should be!"
Heavy aura cloaks Chugwi's odachi. The earth trembles as if about to split. Lightning infuses his blade, adapted from the Hobuk Paeng family's technique.
"Die, you slaughter ghost!"
Fast, heavy lightning strikes everywhere.
Trees and rocks can't withstand it.
Wood chips fly, gravel pelts like bullets, ground craters, flashing sword qi, air-ripping explosions, tangled guts and screams of shock, rising dust clouds, bloodied leaves, unidentifiable powder, afterimages, and... plum fragrance.
"Plum fragrance?"
Chugwi instinctively pulled his head back an inch.
Then—whoosh!—crimson sword qi surged from there.
From burying countless Huashan experts, Chugwi knew it.
Who could block the flower vortex? Simply succumb to the petals' scent and form.
"Grrgh!"
But these petals were swords laced with qi.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Sparks and metal clashes like a forge!
Heavy versus swift in breathless exchange.
No clear winner—stalemate, it seemed. Until the heavy and swift arrived.
"Hup—!"
The Emperor's weight settled in Namgoong Juhee's hand, floral caprice in her intent.
Result: slash—her sword severed Chugwi's wrist clean.
"Grrgh!"
"Fucking..."
Namgoong Juhee spat a thick curse.
She'd aimed for the neck.
Chugwi lived up to 30th among the Hundred Masters.
That was her thought—
"Slaughter bitch of the world. No wonder you left my men like this."
"Right? Even trash looks decent decorated pretty."
"Huhu... No! That's not it!"
Obvious stall tactic, but Namgoong Juhee rode it gladly.
Excitement surging, thrill to her earlobes—but also, her stamina lagged.
"You're enjoying this."
"...What?"
"You're addicted to proving you're a superior lifeform by killing. That's a slaughter ghost! You're a monster the world needs gone!"
Lightning struck Namgoong Juhee's mind.
Reason for the pounding heart. Trembling fingers. Gasping breath.
Everything crystal clear now.
"Don't you feel it now?"
"..."
"That pounding. The ecstasy of peak strength right before the kill... That's what dragged you here."
The mountainside fell silent.
As if the wind had stopped. Not a leaf rustled—dead quiet.
Conversely—thump, thump.
Namgoong Juhee's heartbeat echoed too loud.
The opening Chugwi craved.
"Vanish from this world!"
The Mixed Origin Thunderclap Blade primed again.
Blade with lightning speed and devastation—the power that ranked him 30th.
And—snip.
Something was severed.
In the freshly spinning world, Chugwi struggled to grasp what.
Vision whirled, sky and earth blurred.
New technique? Illusion?
Just stop, and he'd behead the slaughter ghost.
So he thought—
"...Huh?"
Until he saw the hefty body standing firm on the ground.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A Peak body retained consciousness even headless.
Light footsteps rang in his ears.
"Thanks~."
Ecstatic, melodic voice.
His view lifted: slim calves, graceful curves, lickably white nape.
And a smile cold in its beauty.
There, Chugwi's consciousness snapped.