Chapter 5
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Blood Wolf Corps
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"You bastard!"
A peak first-rate warrior, seething with rage, gripped his sword tighter and charged in.
"Arrogant fool! I doubt you have the skill to back that up!"
Fierce sword winds scattered in all directions.
As expected of a peak first-rate warrior.
A regular first-rate warrior couldn't wield sword energy or sword winds.
The stage where one manifests intangible energy through the sword.
It was the entry into Sword and Spirit Unity. In the martial world, those who fully mastered it were called peak first-rate.
Among the fighters I'd met since coming here, he was undoubtedly the strongest.
But something was off. My heart was racing.
'Fuck, am I a masochist or something?'
Soon, all my senses focused on his attack.
This sensation—it had been ages since I'd last felt it.
The thrill of facing a strong opponent in the cage.
The feeling that only the enemy and I existed in the world.
It was like returning home.
'Haaaah~.'
But that nostalgic thrill ended far too abruptly.
When I snapped back to reality, all I saw was a twisted, swastika-shaped rag doll rolling on the ground, as if screaming, "I used to be human too!"
'What the fuck? When did it end?'
Even 102, who had unwittingly witnessed the MMA beatdown live, gaped in shock, unable to close his mouth.
His expression was like, "Would a kid play with a doll like that?"
"Wh-what are you? When the hell did you get this strong?"
"D-did I? He's not just weak, is he?"
"Weak my ass! Can't you see what he did to me?"
He proudly displayed his shredded, rag-like body.
"Ha, ha... but are you okay?"
"Huh?"
"Blood's pouring out."
"Blood? Oh... haa... fuck... you little shit..."
With those final words, 102's eyes rolled back.
I caught him as he collapsed with a thud and hurriedly began emergency treatment.
I unpacked the first-aid kit I'd brought and stitched him up with practiced hands.
Like sewing a stuffed doll, I meticulously closed each wound on 102's body, one stitch at a time.
Then I slathered on plenty of golden sore medicine and wrapped it all in plain cloth.
Only then did I let out a deep breath.
"Phew..."
But it wasn't time to relax yet.
The backlash from my power burst would hit soon, leaving me useless, and my friend had passed out from blood loss.
We needed a safe place to hide right away.
The Murim Alliance headquarters, situated at the heart of Luoyang.
A man was holding a private audience with the Murim Alliance Leader there.
The man was Jegal Jwa-seong, the alliance's strategist.
"Since that massive estate was built here, murders have quintupled and disappearances have increased tenfold over the past three years."
"So you're suspecting it's a Demonic Cult foothold?"
"A reasonable suspicion."
"It could just be worsening public security."
"Alliance Leader, please take a look at this."
"What's this?"
"Information gathered from Kaifeng's beggars."
The Alliance Leader stroked his white beard, muttering thoughtfully.
"Hm, must've cost a fortune in liquor and meat."
"Yes, beggars gonna beg. What can you do."
The report Jegal Jwa-seong presented listed supplies delivered to the estate: food, hay, candles, lamp oil, charcoal, firewood, and more.
"This is for two months."
"Hm, quite a lot for the estate's size."
"And this, please."
"What's this now?"
"The amount of excrement from the estate, secretly obtained through waste handlers."
The Leader's brow furrowed slightly at the filthy topic.
"You investigated that too?"
"Given the gravity of the matter..."
"Thorough. I like it."
"As you see, supplies for over a hundred people are entering, and an equivalent amount of waste is coming out. No doubt about it. It's definitely a Demonic Cult secret sub-branch."
The Leader rested his chin in thought.
Soon, he made his decision, pulling a Leader's token from his bosom and sliding it to Jegal Jwa-seong.
"Very well. I entrust the Tiger Bone Corps and White-Clothed Youth Corps to you."
This delegated thirty percent of the Leader's authority.
"Thank you, Alliance Leader. I will root out every last Demonic Cult remnant in Luoyang."
"I trust you alone."
A decrepit house on a densely wooded mountainside.
We hunkered down there for a rest.
Gil Yeo-hong's escorts were either dead or half-crippled, so they wouldn't dare pursue us anytime soon.
Plus, she was notorious as a wicked woman—no one would voluntarily hunt her killer, assuming we'd murdered her.
But the authorities were another story; we couldn't let our guard down.
My body trembled uncontrollably, strength drained entirely.
Backlash from the power burst.
It could last half a day at best, days at worst—who knew.
If anyone tracked us in the meantime, we'd be done for.
So I prepared simple trap mechanisms for emergencies.
In modern terms, booby traps.
I'd never learned them, but my body remembered.
Probably from Shadow Squad trainee days.
I dug pits around the house, sharpening sticks and burying them deep.
I'd also pocketed some expensive-looking weapons from the dead escorts and rigged them as projectile launchers aimed at the entrance.
With their hidden weapons and daggers, I even made small crossbows for contingencies.
I built a fire hidden from outside to keep 102's body temperature up.
Then I foraged edible mushrooms and fresh mountain herbs, boiling them with the barley pills.
Pain wracked me too, barely able to move, but I was the only one who could, so I gritted my teeth and pushed through.
Finally, I passed out from exhaustion.
When I woke, 102 was sitting up, eating the barley porridge I'd made.
"Hey~ You're up?"
"How's your body?"
"Better than expected. But you look worse—your left eye's fully bloodshot."
"This is nothing... ugh!"
Trying to rise made every muscle scream.
"Phew, better than before, but it'll take another day to recover properly."
"What the hell's in this porridge?"
"Heavenly flavor?"
"Looks like baby puke. First time I've missed the company cafeteria slop."
"Watch out—I set traps on the approach path and house entrance."
"Can't even walk right now."
"Heh heh heh... me neither."
"Kuh ku ku."
We replenished our strength with the barley porridge, waiting for recovery.
Two days later.
We could move decently, so we headed to Luoyang.
No overdoing it.
Spotted an inn? In we went for food and sleep.
We eavesdropped on patrons' chatter, gathering intel.
"Heard that bitch Gil Yeo-hong got stabbed by an assassin at her place a few days back?"
"Really? Heavenly punishment. Who did it?"
"Beats me. But impressive—she always dragged dozens of escorts everywhere."
"Yeah. Acted like hot shit... Nanyang must be in chaos now?"
"Nah, not really. She ruled with an iron fist, no kids either. Now they're all scrapping over Hongwol House—quite the show."
"No one cares about the dead, huh. What's the point of living ruthless? Hoarding money? Karma, right?"
"Exactly. Cheers!"
No signs of pursuit in the gossip.
We could convalesce our way to Luoyang.
After dinner, back in the room, I showed 102 the spoils I'd grabbed.
A treasured sword from the peak warrior and two from the first-rates.
Not our cheap 청강 blades—these were top-grade 백련정강.
A glimpse of how much effort Gil Yeo-hong put into recruiting them.
"You dragged these along despite everything?"
"Risked our lives—gotta snag some side income, right?"
"You're something else."
Training ahead would cost a fortune.
And staying a Demonic Cultist forever? Questionable.
So far, necessity forced it, but now adapted here—no need to tie ourselves to a secret sub-branch.
Demonic Cult law hunts traitors relentlessly, but living as a killer meant death anytime anyway.
Might as well flee far away.
But 102 worried me.
If I bolted, he'd suffer guilt by association.
Couldn't ask him to come—say I betray the Cult, and even our brotherly bond might snap.
He truly believed he was Demonic Cult through and through, unlike me.
Complicated feelings, but I gave him two swords as his share.
He refused stubbornly, so I teased, "You took sword thrusts—least buy some meat skewers?" and shoved them over.
Iron was precious in this era.
백련정강: folded over a hundred times to purify, hammered thousands—tedious process.
Sell at a forge: easy 20 silver taels each.
Ten months' pay—for us.
My treasured 백련정강 sword? At least 50 taels.
Craftsmanship screamed quality over cheap 청강.
And I snagged something bigger.
Gil Yeo-hong's necklace.
Obviously priceless—I'd specially pocketed it when slitting her throat.
Nanyang's richest flaunted it; no cheap trinket.
Way more valuable than the sword.
Insurance for emergencies—I tucked it safe.
Four more days of walking, and Luoyang loomed ahead.
Exactly half a month since the sub-branch chief's orders.
Home in sight, 102 fully relaxed.
"Back home, request leave! Hit the brothel, drink till our noses bleed! Call girls too!"
"They'll allow that much. But your body's okay?"
"Fine! Not my first rodeo. Scars like these are badges of honor!"
102 forgot pain dreaming of booze and women.
Men think of girls if they can lift a spoon, right?
Harsh life or not, he was barely thirty.
Prime age for such urges—understandable.
I just wanted simple grub, but no dice.
He'd sell his share of long swords for a blowout.
"I'll splash cash big! Drop trou and party!"
'Hah... where'd this kid learn that?'
"Who taught you to party so sleazily?"
"Who else? You, asshole."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you prick! How much cash have you blown dragging me to brothels? Remember Aeng-jeong?"
"Hahaha, ha..."
Trading dumb jokes, we neared the sub-branch—and sensed something wrong.
Smell of burning wafted over.
And a more familiar stench.
Blood.
"102."
"Got it."
102's jovial face hardened instantly.
Far off, the sub-branch blazed, black smoke billowing.
Clash of weapons and screams echoed.
Secret sub-branch defenses activated: tall watchtowers rose, barricades up.
Attackers?
Obviously Murim Alliance's Tiger Bone Corps and White-Clothed Youth Corps.
Plus reinforcements from various sects—hundreds of elites in diverse garb sieging the place.
"Came in droves."
"Shit! What now?"
"Rush in? Instant death."
"Can't just watch?"
"Situation's grim..."
No chance of victory, anyone could see.
Sub-branch manned only by Shadow Squad.
Not frontline fighters, outnumbered too.
Outcome obvious.
Wooden barricades shattered, watchtowers fell one by one.
Arrow volleys at the righteous thinned.
Soon, sub-branch fell to them.
Massacre curtain rose.
I pondered my next move.
'We weren't on official orders—just went rogue. Head to another sub-branch? Labeled traitors.'
Demonic Cult infamous for traitor hunts.
Returning? Suicide.
Time to convince 102 to ditch the Cult now.
"Hey, 102. Listen close from here on..."
But I couldn't finish.
Not after seeing blood-red wolf pack surging toward the burning sub-branch like furious waves.
"Blood Wolf Corps!"
Demonic Cult's third strike force, strongest external unit.
Rumored all members Sword and Spirit Unity demonic experts.
They encircled the Luoyang sub-branch instead.
"You scum! Know where you are?! Ack!"
"Demonic Cultists! Gah!"
"Hah! Blood Wolf Corps! R-run!"
Righteous outer net crumbled like autumn leaves.
Blood Wolf hidden weapons never missed, matching their prowess.
Inside killers realized reinforcements arrived—panicked.
Now they faced Blood Wolf Corps from within the sub-branch.
Outer righteous mostly cleared, Blood Wolf assembled at entrance.
Hundred peak first-rate warriors.
Only Shaolin's 108 Arhats, Murim Alliance Dragon Squad, White-Clothed Youth Corps, Huashan Plum Blossom Sword Guards matched this.
Leading them...
Murim Alliance warriors' commander Jegal Jwa-seong's face turned ashen instantly.
"Th-the Heavenly Demon! Why is he here?!"
"Heavenly Demon!"—Tiger Bone and Youth Corps wavered.
Cult's Number Two.
Even current Cult Leader couldn't touch him.
The acknowledged mass-murder weapon stood before them.