Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Where Am I?
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Where the hell is this?
The sun rose beyond the horizon.
A sailing ship shrouded in darkness slowly revealed itself. Its half-burned sails fluttered ceaselessly in the wind, and the stern, half-torn apart, looked ready to sink at any moment.
On the deck lay a handful of men and women, sprawled about.
What woke them—whether dead or alive—was the thunderous crash of the mast toppling sideways.
Boom!
A warrior's senses are sharp. Without anyone taking the lead, they all sprang up reflexively. As they scanned their surroundings, they quickly sized each other up. A single thought flashed through everyone's mind.
Can't tell friend from foe!
"Righteous Alliance to the front!"
"Demonic Cult to the rear!"
At someone's shout, the people hurriedly split apart. Amid the chaos, a burly bald thug dashed forward before suddenly coming to his senses and fleeing to the rear.
In the end, two ended up at the bow and four at the stern. With the fallen mast crossing the middle of the ship as the line, the Righteous Alliance warriors and Demonic Cult followers faced off at a distance of about ten paces, tension thick in the air. In that moment, the group felt something was off.
'No weapons!'
They must have been swept into the sea by the waves that battered the rails all night. In the frantic scramble to save their own skins, who would have had time to grab their weapons?
It wasn't just weapons. They looked around for anything that could serve as a club, but everything along the rails—bodies and all—had been washed away.
Then, a low voice drifted from the Demonic Cult side.
"We're two more than them."
Twelve versus fourteen wasn't much difference. But two versus four was.
More than double!
The fragile balance shattered in an instant. Emboldened, the Demonic Cult followers sneered as they stoked their battle spirit.
Just as an explosive clash seemed imminent, a ripping sound tore through the air—"Pfft"—and the sails lying on the deck split open. A head popped out from beneath.
It belonged to a man in his thirties, his muscles twisted like bundled iron wires, his skin a deep bronze. His eyes blazed with a feral intensity. At a glance, he looked like a veteran hardened by countless battlefields. Decisively, he gripped a blade about two hand-spans long.
Both sides inwardly groaned.
'A sword!'
Deep cultivation lets one fight with or without weapons, they say. But that's only when a master faces off against third-rate scrubs. Those who roam the jianghu know better: how futile spirited punches and kicks are against a single blade.
Eyes gleamed across the deck. In a brawl of bare hands, this man's knife could tip the scales.
Heuk Do-san swept his gaze over the group.
'What the hell are these guys?'
The old mercenaries he'd boarded with were gone, replaced by a ship full of strangers. A giant, a hunchback, a monk, a bald guy, two pretty women...
He didn't know who they were, but he knew the situation. He'd come to when the mast fell, hearing their shouts and footsteps.
'Trouble.'
Then, a slender thread of energy slipped into his body, probing his meridians.
Probing Ki. A clash of energies to gauge the opponent's internal energy level.
No simple feat.
It required at least a half-century of cultivation. Tendrils came from both the righteous and demonic sides.
This is the martial world.
Upon first meeting, they test shoulders without regard for means or fairness. What arts they practice, their skill level, and ultimately, who's stronger.
But they'd find nothing. Heuk Do-san had never cultivated internal energy. Finding no yield, the probes quietly withdrew.
"Which side are you on?"
A Demonic Cult follower asked. Towering and broad, with a mole like a black bean under his nose. His eyebrows slanted fiercely toward his temples, his pale sclera hinting at a violent temper. He reeked of blood just standing there.
'A master.'
He was the one who'd sent Probing Ki from the demonic side.
Behind him stood a short hunchback. His eyes glinted like shattered glass. An empty scabbard slung over his shoulder marked him as a swordsman.
Beside the hunchback was a woman.
Around thirty?
Her deep, soulful eyes and ripe figure exuded a mature beauty no young girl could match. And she had presence. Not a warrior's aura, but something that made her untouchable.
Heuk Do-san knew it came from her piercing gaze. Eyes that seemed to delve into his soul, probing one by one.
'What is it?'
Next to her stood a grim-faced brute. His shaved bald head was tattooed with a colorful snake, his features utterly vile. By looks alone, he seemed the leader.
'Demonic side scoped.'
Heuk Do-san turned to the righteous side. Not much to see—just a monk and a woman. Yet an aura that dared not be approached.
Especially the monk: plump build in red robes, two ordination scars on his crown like centipede tracks, emanating an extraordinary presence.
His freakishly thick forearms suggested heavy weapon training. He was the source of the righteous Probing Ki.
'Where did all these freaks pop up from?'
Finally, the righteous side had one woman.
Soaked from last night's waves, her clothes clung transparently, outlining her voluptuous curves.
Gulp.
Look at that slender waist.
No older than twenty-seven, wet hair like seaweed covered half her face, but her visible eyes were stunningly beautiful.
'Must've snared plenty of fools.'
Then she brushed the seaweed-like strands behind her ear. Her full face revealed. Heuk Do-san froze like a statue.
"......!"
He'd once had a woman who owned his youth. One he'd give everything for. Losing her left a void only alcohol could fill. Later, it became a habit—he couldn't recall her without drink.
Of course, this woman was different. Just something in the harmony of her features evoked her.
Ten years gone, he thought her banished to memory's depths. Yet something lingered deep inside.
Like a scab.
Harmless unless picked, then it bleeds.
The woman glared at him with a look of 'Hmph, typical man.' Then the bald demonic guy bellowed.
"We're asking which side!"
"I..."
"......?"
"Forgot."
Heuk Do-san slowly scanned the group. Faces welcoming if allies, murderous if foes—ready to kill him first and take his sword too. The bald guy, not grasping, tilted his head.
"Lost your memory?"
"Let's say I erased it."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Ears full of wax?"
"What?"
"Don't think. Just accept it."
He saw their faces twist in disgust. Clearly thinking he was scheming to dodge the fight.
What kind of ridiculous bastard is this?
Didn't matter.
What did Righteous Alliance or Demonic Cult have to do with him anymore? He was tired. Sick of it. If they pressed his allegiance, it'd end in a bloodbath. If that's what it took.
The bald guy's face flushed purple. As he lunged, the hunchback grabbed his shoulder. He nodded toward the righteous monk—who'd stepped forward, poised to charge—and shook his head slightly.
"If he sides with them by some chance, their strength surges. Sword aside, his stiff posture means he's got something up his sleeve. Since he refuses both sides for whatever reason, why not watch for now?"
The bald guy gnashed his teeth and backed off.
Heuk Do-san smirked inwardly.
'Long life ahead.'
* * *
Heuk Do-san walked to the edge and peered at the sea.
Nothing but endless waves. No other ships in sight. Given last night's fierce battle, it made no sense.
Not the only oddity. Last night, they'd fought in the stifling late summer heat of August. Proving it, everyone—foe or friend—wore light summer garb.
Yet now the air was winter-cold. The sea breeze wasn't refreshing but a skin-slicing gale.
Heuk Do-san called out casually, as if to anyone.
"Anyone know where we are?"
No answer.
They had eyes and brains; this situation was bizarre. Last night, they'd been off the Shandong Peninsula.
Rough guess: drifted south a hundred li with wind and current. But a hundred li shouldn't chill the air like this. Unless the seasons changed overnight.
"You seem like you know something."
Heuk Do-san singled out the bald Demonic Cult guy.
"What do you mean?"
"Last night, we were trapped in that massive Formation Technique you spread across the sea. Is this part of it too?"
"Righteous faction?"
"That what you hope?"
"......!"
The bald guy's face twisted oddly.
After a pause, he spoke.
"The Formation Technique over the sea last night was the Nine Heavens Illusion Grand Ancestral Formation. It creates vast fog mazes and illusions on water to drive sailors mad. But it can't produce freezing weather. And it was already broken."
"Even broken, some energy lingers?"
"What exactly do you want to know?"
"I heard manipulating wind and clouds with a Formation Technique takes ages for the residual energy to fully dissipate. Isn't this weird situation we're in from that lingering force?"
The bald guy didn't answer right away, tilting his head. The woman behind him approached and whispered something. Heuk Do-san watched closely. Moments later, the bald guy faced him again.
"The energy is completely gone. What we're seeing and feeling now is the natural environment that's always been here."
"How does a massive Formation Technique's energy vanish overnight?"
"Because an even greater power overwhelmed it."
"Not the meteor shower, I hope?"
"The meteor shower."
"That was no illusion...?"
Heuk Do-san wasn't the only shocked one; even the two righteous faction members looked stunned. They'd thought the meteors a Demonic Cult illusion too. Why else would they rain exactly then and there?
"It baffled us too. Without the meteor shower, those two wouldn't be breathing now."
The bald guy glared at the righteous pair, eyes blazing. The monk held firm, expression unchanged.
"You demonic scum overstepped, so Buddha commanded the thunder god to strike you with lightning. Justice prevails. Namu Amida Butsu, Kwanseum Bosal."
"Hmph, that prayer-honed tongue sure yaps. If you've got the guts, stop flapping and charge. Stomach's rumbling anyway—today I'll fill it with hot monk blood!"