Chapter 38
When the enemies had fled so far that not even their echoes remained, Ak Jung-hae thrust his sword into the ground and collapsed to his knees.
"Jung-hae sunbae?"
As Ma Hye-hyang hurried to his side, a sharp tang of blood hit her nostrils. Her face hardened. Blood was oozing thickly between the fingers wrapped around the wound at his waist.
Shocked, Ma Hye-hyang pushed his hand aside and lifted his robe.
"What the...!"
The gash was deep—grievous. Under the dim moonlight, with his dark robes, no one had noticed its severity.
Ma Hye-hyang swiftly pressed the pressure points. But the bleeding only slowed a fraction.
Ak Jung-hae, breathing raggedly, grabbed her wrist.
"...I'm fine."
"Fine? With a wound like this... you should have said something!"
"And then what? Leave Yi-gang sunbae to fight alone? We had to detox Wan sunbae first."
Ma Hye-hyang tore a strip from her robe and pressed it hard against the wound to staunch the flow. It soaked red in seconds.
"What do we do...?"
Her anxious gaze flicked to Dang So-yong and Namgung Wan. If they delayed much longer... But she couldn't leave them unguarded.
"Seong-yul... he'll bring help."
Ma Hye-hyang clenched her bloodied fists. If not for Byok Seong-yul, Ak Jung-hae wouldn't be hurt like this. And would that coward, who fled without looking back, even return?
Time dragged on agonizingly. Dang So-yong had said it would take a meal's time—about half an hour—but it felt eternal.
Then, presences approached from afar. Multiple.
Ma Hye-hyang leaped up, sword in hand.
As they drew nearer, she discerned them: three martial artists and one civilian. No—two civilians. No sign of Byok Seong-yul. Not disciples of Youngjongmun either. Heavy footfalls. Older, higher skill.
"Damn it."
Ma Hye-hyang gripped her sword tighter, assuming a stance. The rustling bushes grew closer in the darkness. Tension prickled her skin like needles.
Then, an unexpected child's voice rang out.
"Ah! There they are! Hurry, hurry!"
Ma Hye-hyang's eyes widened as bushes parted, revealing a familiar face—Sim Ji-pyeong, Namgung Wan's aide.
Sim Ji-pyeong arched a brow at her drawn sword.
"Pointing that at me?"
"Ah! Sorry!"
Ma Hye-hyang sheathed it hastily. Sim Ji-pyeong scanned the clearing and gasped.
"What? The young lord!"
Regaining her wits, Ma Hye-hyang grabbed him as he rushed to Namgung Wan.
"Sim Bu-gwan-nim, we need a physician. Right now!"
"Pardon?"
"A doctor! Jung-hae sunbae's critical!"
"Critical? Since when?"
"There's no time—!"
"Calm down a moment. The physician's already on the way."
"What?"
"Probably... Ah! There he is."
Namgung family warriors emerged from the bushes... followed by a child.
"Baek Ri-yeon?"
Ma Hye-hyang blinked in disbelief. Trailing them, another warrior carried a groaning old man on his back.
Beneath trees where even moonlight barely pierced, faint glows of differing hues clashed repeatedly.
Shing!
A branch sliced clean where the light had passed. As it tumbled, Cheon Gwi-jo kicked it away. The child-thick branch hurtled toward Baek Ri-gang, who cleaved it in two.
In that instant, Cheon Gwi-jo vanished into the trees.
"By the way, I heard something amusing from that blockhead Byok Seong-yul..."
His voice echoed through the dense canopy, impossible to pinpoint.
"Your daughter's illness is because she's a cripple, right?"
"..."
"A dantian waste in a martial clan! Hahaha!"
Cheon Gwi-jo's laughter boomed. Baek Ri-gang slashed a tree—and a black shadow lunged.
Pursuing it, Baek Ri-gang suddenly leaped back as the ground gave way beneath his own felled tree. Cheon Gwi-jo's strike grazed his leg by a hair's breadth.
Krunch!
Another tree snapped, rolling down the slope.
"All the grudges from your self-righteous deeds aren't just one or two!"
Clang!
Cheon Gwi-jo's palm met Baek Ri-gang's sword again.
"A cripple who can't even use martial arts! Hahaha! Aren't you curious how long your daughter will last?"
In that moment, Baek Ri-gang's sword tip wavered as he blocked, the blue aura flickering dim.
"...!"
A blatant provocation. Yet it worked—enough to startle even Cheon Gwi-jo.
He seized the opening, swinging a palm heavy with inner energy.
"Die!"
Baek Ri-gang twisted away—slash!—Cheon Gwi-jo's hand skimmed his nape. Blood trickled from the torn skin, staining his tunic.
Cheon Gwi-jo licked his lips in regret. A bit deeper, and he'd have snapped his neck.
As he pressed the attack, a chilling prickle rose on his left. He spun just in time—a sword whistled past his side.
"Namgung Wan! How are you here already...!"
Pain flared hot. Distracted dodging Namgung Wan, Baek Ri-gang's guard slipped.
Cheon Gwi-jo gritted his teeth and retreated. Namgung Wan closed in.
"Yi-gang! You alright?"
"...Chase Cheon Gwi-jo."
Baek Ri-gang pressed his nape acupoint.
Namgung Wan glanced at him, then pursued without hesitation.
Soon, birds burst from the distant woods in alarm.
Boom! Kaboom! Boom!
Under the starry sky, Namgung clan's swordsmanship roared its presence. The sounds faded, then silenced.
Namgung Wan returned to Baek Ri-gang.
"Cheon Gwi-jo?"
"Tch, got away."
"Wounded, he won't last long. We should keep—"
Namgung Wan blocked Baek Ri-gang as he moved to follow.
"...?"
"Are you alright?"
Baek Ri-gang gazed at his sword, its glow extinguished. He sheathed it.
"Sorry to worry you. Let's head back. Can't stray too far."
This area was Cheon Gwi-jo's turf. If he fled in earnest, two alone couldn't catch him.
Namgung Wan nodded, flicking blood from his blade.
"Cheon Gwi-jo's stronger than expected. Lost to you ten years ago, yet..."
Namgung Wan hadn't fully detoxed in his haste—only seventy percent capacity. Cheon Gwi-jo was injured, though. He hadn't anticipated such an easy escape.
"How'd he grow this strong in ten years?"
"..."
Baek Ri-gang stared darkly at his hand, clenching and unclenching it.
"If something happens to me, take care of Ri-yeon."
"Don't jinx it."
Namgung Wan waved it off in disgust.
"More importantly, how'd you arrive so perfectly timed? Knew the vice leader was Cheon Gwi-jo?"
Baek Ri-gang shook his head.
"Didn't know Youngjongmun's vice leader was him. But..."
Namgung Wan eyed him expectantly.
"But?"
"...Ri-yeon."
"Ri-yeon what?"
"Ri-yeon..."
"Ri-yeon what! You trying to frustrate me to death?"
Baek Ri-gang sighed, frowning slightly, as if resigned.
"She threw a fit, crying about a dream where you all died. So I came."
Namgung Wan's face twisted.
"Don't mess around. Why the nonsense since earlier?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Wait, for real?"
"..."