Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Iron Blood Gang 3
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Yoo Ja-eon, his right wrist injured, abandoned the fight when sword energy that looked impossible to block came flying at him. He grabbed one of his subordinates with his left hand and hurled him forward. The black-clad man flew screaming.
“Arghhh!”
Boom!
A black-clad man, flying through the air out of nowhere without understanding what was happening, exploded in midair.
But Yoo Ja-eon had only cleared enough space to barely save himself. The black-clad men who lingered near him took massive damage from Baek Moo-jin's sword energy and Jin So-hye's sword energy, collapsing in droves.
By now, Jin So-hye's figure had surged far ahead. Baek Moo-jin whipped around like a bolt of lightning, spraying sword energy to the rear before soaring back into the air.
White sword light flashed.
Crimson flames surged.
With dull thuds, some flew off after taking just two steps, while others clutched their stomachs or throats after being struck by sword energy out of nowhere, falling one after another.
But there were simply too many.
In that interval, Yoo Ja-eon—having clashed palm forces with Baek Moo-jin and shaken out his numb wrist—kept seizing his subordinates by the napes with his left hand and flinging them at the two. Spotting another trying to flee, he thrust out his left palm without a word, crushing the man's skull with a thud.
Yoo Ja-eon sowed terror.
“Die by my hand or theirs—it's the same. You'll all die anyway. Where do you think you're going?”
At that moment, a man called Jeok Dangju nearby suddenly halted, glaring back and forth between his fallen subordinate and Yoo Ja-eon.
'That dog of a bastard—for real.'
As Yoo Ja-eon kept slaughtering subordinates from the rear, the atmosphere plunged into icy silence. This was a feeling slightly different from fear. The closest match would probably be rage. Yoo Ja-eon had no idea that anger could sometimes surpass terror.
Yoo Ja-eon drove his men forward like a shepherd herding sheep with fear.
And Baek Moo-jin and Jin So-hye, slashing silently without a word, created another layer of dread.
2.
Baek Moo-jin pressed ahead, and Jin So-hye brushed past him, swinging her sword.
The two had already tested each other's martial arts earlier. Now facing a common foe, they naturally recalled one another's techniques and fell into sync.
Sometimes Baek Moo-jin would cut down black-clad attackers lunging at Jin So-hye; those charging Baek Moo-jin lost their heads to Jin So-hye's blade. They pressed their backs together like dance partners, thrusting swords in unison or sweeping fore and aft.
Their coordination started clumsy.
But as hordes of black-clad men swarmed in, it grew exquisitely precise amid the chaos.
A novel experience for them both.
The very idea of “merging martial arts” was entirely new, stretching their mindsets with fresh flexibility.
Jin So-hye swung her sword in a state more exhausted than usual, and Baek Moo-jin—aware of her condition—matched her pace while holding plenty in reserve.
'No telling how this plays out.'
Even now, Baek Moo-jin wielded his blade while conserving much of his strength.
Jin So-hye fought all-out like roaring flames, while Baek Moo-jin coolly assessed the field—yet felled more black-clad foes than she did.
With each swing, Jin So-hye's mind steadied. Baek Moo-jin covered her back with meticulous care, as if urging her to rampage freely.
So Jin So-hye faced the pitch-black masses surging toward her without a flicker of doubt.
A bizarre sensation.
Fighting each other, their affinities clashed disastrously.
Together, those affinities meant nothing—they inflicted double, triple the agony on their enemies.
The pinnacle came when they unleashed cold energy and flame energy in sequence.
Baek Moo-jin froze the feet of approaching black-clad men with an external manifestation of cold qi. Jin So-hye conjured flame energy and launched it.
That chained assault engulfed a black-clad man with fairly advanced martial arts—instantly.
Roarrrrr...
“Arghhh!”
The scream came with a massive brute swinging his wolf-fang mace wildly as flames consumed him. Thuds rang out immediately—nearby Iron Blood Gang comrades sent flying. The battlefield devolved into pandemonium in a heartbeat.
Yoo Ja-eon bellowed.
“What are you doing? Anyone who steps back dies by my hand!”
With those words, he shoved nearby black-clad men toward Baek Moo-jin. When one faltered, he charged and blasted another comrade's head with a palm strike.
“Go, I said! You bastard! Want to die by my hand? Then stand still!”
The black-clad men's icy glares fixed on their headless comrade. But their fury targeted not the corpse—but Yoo Ja-eon.
As more comrades perished to Yoo Ja-eon's palms, someone spat their grievance.
“That doesn't mean you kill your own men!”
“Which bastard are you? Show yourself.”
All masked, pinpointing the voice was near impossible. Silence hung despite Yoo Ja-eon's rage.
They weren't idiots.
Anyone could see Yoo Ja-eon biding his time for Baek Moo-jin and Jin So-hye's internal energy to run dry.
Then Jeok Dangju—the one with perennial bad blood toward Yoo Ja-eon—finally snapped. He ripped off his mask and roared.
“Deputy Leader, stop killing subordinates at random!”
Yoo Ja-eon shot back with a murderous scowl.
“Jeok Dangju, you dare mutiny?”
“Mutiny my ass! Gotta be a real superior for that! You mangy dog!”
“You bastard!”
Yoo Ja-eon lunged. Jeok Dangju dodged with lightness skill, then bellowed across the field.
“Righteous Blood Unit—retreat! Damn it all! Scatter and regroup at the branch! I'll shoulder every bit of blame, Jeok I-gwang swears it. Retreat!”
Jeok I-gwang, the unit leader, hollered while evading Yoo Ja-eon. He'd always loathed the man, and watching his subordinates die senselessly had shattered his restraint.
He couldn't abandon his men to dog-like deaths.
'That filthy cur! Even in death—not under him.'
Jeok I-gwang commanded well enough; sizable numbers slunk away, vanishing into the night's shadows. Yoo Ja-eon couldn't stem them all, and the other leaders held their tongues.
Seizing the lull, Baek Moo-jin shot forward. He raised his sword, sheathed it in White Flower Divine Art's frigid qi, then slashed ahead like a blizzard gale—North Wind Cold Snow.
Screeeeech!
A pristine white whirlwind of cold qi poured toward Yoo Ja-eon.
Before the cracking finished, Jin So-hye twisted her longsword at blinding speed, unleashing straight-line sword energy: Fire Dragon Descent.
Exterminating Heaven Flame Energy took fire dragon form, devouring foes half-frozen by the cold.
Yoo Ja-eon, mid-roar, shielded himself behind underlings with lightning reflexes. Casualties were catastrophic this time—some wreathed in flames and screaming, others staring dumbstruck at their burning comrades.
3.
Baek Moo-jin judged the foes had lost all fight. He infused his voice with internal energy.
“Clear a path. Unless you want a dog's death.”
His words struck colder than any ice technique, piercing their hearts. Trusted Jeok Dangju's withdrawal with his men only deepened the chill.
Then another leader yanked off his mask, unable to bear it.
“Make way.”
“Ga Dangju!”
Yoo Ja-eon glared and snarled, but the rest stripped their masks too. As he raged, Baek Moo-jin thundered across the field with qi.
“Shut your mouth! What a disgrace—what kind of deputy leader pulls this shit?”
Sword at ready, Baek Moo-jin swept his gaze around.
“Holy Fire Palace's Little Palace Lord and Iron Blood Gang's Deputy Leader will duel. You saw—she's worn out fending you off. If Yoo Ja-eon's got balls, if he's deputy of Black Path's famed Iron Blood Gang, step up yourself. No reason to dodge. Right?”
“Right!”
“He hid behind you as shields, waiting for me and the Little Palace Lord's strength to fail. Won't happen—even if every last one of you drops. Don't wanna die first? Fall back.”
This time, the black-clad men truly wavered and retreated. At gestures from several leaders, they spread into a wide circular formation.
Ga Dangju—the one who'd ordered it—spoke curtly to the deputy leader.
“Deputy Leader, one-on-one duel. Too many subordinates dead—you step up. We'll handle the fallout together.”
“Handle? What the hell can you handle?”
“You think we'll just walk away? If you die here, we'll all avenge you.”
“Bullshit!”
While they bickered, Jin So-hye—breath caught—stepped forward.
“Yoo Ja-eon. Am I really that scary?”
Yoo Ja-eon's lips split into an awkward grin ear-to-ear. He shook his head, strode to center, eyes locked on Baek Moo-jin.
Yoo Ja-eon didn't buy Baek Moo-jin's words.
Nor Ga Dangju's vow of vengeance.
Through his lens, this was Baek Moo-jin lying to wrap things up.
Yoo Ja-eon glanced around.
“You stupid bastards.”
Somehow, the circle enclosed him, not Baek Moo-jin. He flashed Baek Moo-jin a twisted smirk.
“Baek Moo-jin. Nicely played. Sly fox.”
Baek Moo-jin nodded.
“Vengeance is the Little Palace Lord's to claim.”
Yoo Ja-eon nodded as if conceding the point, beckoning Jin So-hye.
“Come on, then. Let's see Holy Fire Palace Little Palace Lord's true skill...”
Baek Moo-jin shifted aside—Yoo Ja-eon to his left, Jin So-hye to right. He kept close, sword gripped; foes still encircled them, ready to intervene anytime.
But the thought now seeping into Baek Moo-jin's mind was anything but “righteous.”
These were Iron Blood Gang. Black Path. Slaughterers of Holy Fire Palace warriors.
And Yoo Ja-eon, butchering his own to survive.
Baek Moo-jin had made up his mind.
Gazing inward, he sneered coldly.
'Feels like I've dipped one foot into the Black Path.'
Just then, his eyes met an Iron Blood Gang leader's.
A shiver raced down Baek Moo-jin's spine.
The man knew exactly what Baek Moo-jin intended. No sign of stopping him—or warning Yoo Ja-eon.
Moments later, the pair clashed.
Clangclangclangclangclangclang!
Yoo Ja-eon—wielding a bizarrely elongated sword far longer than standard—versus Jin So-hye.
Baek Moo-jin watched with icy detachment for a split second, then slashed his White Mist Sword through the air at imperceptible speed.
Screeeeech!
Sword wind struck Yoo Ja-eon's feet dead-on. With an eerie crack, his lower body froze solid.
“Huh?”
Those were Yoo Ja-eon's last words.
Jin So-hye's sword whistled in, severing his head.
Shocked disbelief etched Yoo Ja-eon's face until it hit the dirt.
Baek Moo-jin whirled his sword once, glaring around. Not a soul dared speak.
The survivors knew full well: their lives now hinged on Baek Moo-jin.
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