Chapter 16
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Piercing Sword Sect Luoyang Branch 16
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Ju-ruk!
Blood soaked the floor in a thick puddle. With his wrist cleanly severed, the bleeding was severe.
Yet the masked man stood there unsteadily, not even thinking of staunching his wound.
The moment he so much as twitched, Jang So-cheon's blade—hanging diagonally at full length—seemed ready to pierce straight through his heart.
"Kuh...!"
The masked man clenched his teeth, desperately holding back the groan threatening to escape his lips. But in the end, he couldn't endure the pain and dropped to his knees on the ground.
At that instant, exclamations erupted from the Black Society side.
"Hah, hahaha."
"As expected of the Piercing Sword Sect..."
"What an incredible quick-draw."
"I didn't even see him unsheathe his sword."
The gang members' eyes widened at the sight of Jang So-cheon's true prowess, something they'd never witnessed before.
In stark contrast, Gwak Su-san and Na Cheol-gi let out sighs of relief upon seeing that single strike.
He might have been Luoyang's greatest junior talent in the past, but hadn't he spent the last few years drifting through gambling dens, neglecting his training?
So even as they placed their faith in him, a sliver of anxiety had lingered in their hearts.
But witnessing him subdue what appeared to be a first-rate master with one sword stroke finally put their minds at ease.
'Heh heh, this is unreal.'
'A rotten herring is still a herring, they say. Beyond expectations.'
Kwak!
Na Cheol-gi clenched his fist tight.
And he hoped Jang So-cheon would swiftly cut down the masked intruders like leaves in the autumn wind.
But what was this?
Far from slicing the throat of the man kneeling on the ground, Jang So-cheon merely clicked his tongue softly.
"Tch, what a foolish fool."
"......"
"If I'd meant to take your life from the start, I'd have severed your neck instead of your wrist."
Jang So-cheon jerked his head, gesturing for the man to tend to his wound quickly.
The masked man hesitated, glancing around warily instead of acting. Only after Jang So-cheon nodded again did he stagger to his feet and retreat hurriedly.
He sealed his acupoints to stop the bleeding, then tore long strips from his sleeve to bind the injury tightly.
"Huh?"
"He's letting him go without killing him?"
"If blood makes you squeamish, at least shatter his dantian or cripple his legs properly!"
To the Black Society thugs, who believed that once blood was spilled, you finished the job no matter what, Jang So-cheon's mercy made no sense.
Gwak Su-san and Na Cheol-gi felt the same bewilderment. But with their own lives hanging by Jang So-cheon's whim, they held their tongues.
They even reined in their men to prevent any careless chatter from offending him.
In the meantime, the masked man—who had swiftly completed emergency treatment—bowed his head deeply before the middle-aged leader.
"You dimwit."
"......"
"If you couldn't control your temper and acted on your own during a mission, at least bring back some real results. Instead, you slink back with your worthless hide intact."
"......I'm sorry."
"I don't want to hear it. I can't even stand the sight of you right now—fall back."
The middle-aged man didn't offer a single word of concern for his crippled subordinate. Instead, he berated him harshly.
The masked man might have felt deeply wronged, but judging from his comrades' cold reactions, merely getting scolded seemed like a blessing.
"Young Hero Jang."
Was it because his subordinate had been humiliated in front of everyone? The middle-aged man's voice now carried a sharp edge, unlike before.
"Thanks to your mercy, my incompetent lackey has kept his life. We are truly grateful."
"Grateful? Your voice reeks of thick killing intent... Or is that just my imagination?"
Jang So-cheon met the man's ferocious aura head-on without so much as blinking.
The middle-aged man furrowed his brow slightly and stepped forward, issuing his ultimatum.
"To cut to the chase: withdraw now, and we'll let today's events slide without pursuit."
"......"
"But if you keep spouting nonsense and disrupting our business..."
The middle-aged man stomped through the blood pooling dark red on the floor and drew his sword.
"Then you'll pay dearly in blood."
Saaah!
Even with his arms crossed, idly standing by, his presence had been intimidating. Now gripping his sword, a tremendous aura whirled around him like a vortex.
"Making me pay in blood, eh? It's like pulling a drowning man from the water only for him to demand your bundle."
Jang So-cheon found the threat utterly ridiculous, a smirk playing on his lips.
"This is exactly why you don't show kindness to black-haired beasts so readily."
"......I thought you had some sense, but it seems I was mistaken."
With Jang So-cheon showing no sign of backing down, the middle-aged man's eyes flashed with cold fury.
The violent killing intent pricking at their skin combined with eyes as chilling as a man-eating ghost's.
The Black Society thugs, crushed by his presence, hunched their necks and shoulders like turtles retreating into their shells.
"Don't waste energy building atmosphere—come at me. Out of respect for your age, I'll yield the first strike."
When he should have been channeling his qi, assuming a battle stance, and bracing for combat, here he was, standing with legs crossed, offering to let the enemy strike first?
It was blatant provocation.
"Insolent brat!"
Enraged by Jang So-cheon's cheeky attitude, the middle-aged man stomped hard and unleashed a wave of inky sword qi.
Whiiiiiish!
Masterful in manifesting external qi, even his impulsive swing produced sword qi of impressive power and refinement.
"I'll snap that arrogant nose of yours in one stroke!"
The inky sword qi responded to his furious shout, slicing through the air like an arrow toward Jang So-cheon.
Its ferocity suggested it would cleave him in two at the torso in an instant.
Yet for some reason.
Even in this perilous moment, Jang So-cheon showed no reaction.
"Young Hero Jang!"
"Dodge!"
"Watch out!"
To the Black Society members, it looked dangerously precarious, and they shouted in unison.
Gwak Su-san and Na Cheol-gi felt their hearts drop momentarily with anxiety.
But the two had clearly seen the corner of Jang So-cheon's mouth twitch upward the instant the middle-aged man kicked off the ground and unleashed his sword qi.
'He has a plan.'
'Just like with the first masked man—aiming for a post-emptive strike.'
Convinced Jang So-cheon wouldn't fall so easily, they widened their eyes in anticipation.
And that was when the inky sword qi closed in right up to him.
Sruruk.
His diagonally extended blade swayed like reeds in the wind, then flashed like lightning in the blink of an eye, piercing straight through the sword qi.
Craaaack!
A sharp rupturing sound like splitting rock echoed around them, followed by a torrent of harsh clashes between metal.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
"Huh?"
They'd thought Jang So-cheon hadn't even reacted to the sword qi, but here he was unleashing a barrage. The Black Society members blinked in stunned disbelief, like men watching their noses get cut off right in front of them.
When the exchange grew too fast for the eye to follow and they saw the middle-aged man's martial robe reddening, their shock knew no bounds.
"My god."
"I thought tales of Luoyang's divine prodigy and the Spectrum Sword were just relics of past glory..."
"Jang So-cheon—no, our Young Hero Jang. He's an absolute supreme master."
The gang members clenched their fists at the one-sided beatdown, roaring cheers one after another.
Meanwhile, the masked men's faces—distorted beneath their black cloths—practically crumbled as they watched their leader struggle.
Of course, with their faces fully covered, only their eyes were visible.
But not a single one stood still; they twitched and glanced at each other nervously. No need to remove the masks to know their expressions were plain as day.
"This can't be real. How's a gambling-addled has-been doing this to our leader...?"
"Something's wrong. This duel—it's gone seriously wrong..."
The masked men denied reality. Yet amid their denial, the clash dragged on, surpassing thirty exchanges.
"Kuh...!"
And the moment the middle-aged man let out a pained groan and staggered badly.
'Dangerous.'
'He can't hold out much longer.'
'We'll fail the mission at this rate.'
They all accepted the grim reality and acted according to their mission protocol.
Chit!
The signal whistled from someone's lips, and the masked men leaped at Jang So-cheon in unison.
"See? Things get tight, and out comes your true colors."
Jang So-cheon didn't flinch or panic at the sudden assault.
He'd anticipated they'd jump in the moment their leader's life hung in the balance.
"Once you lot join in like this, I've got no reason to hold back anymore."
"W-Wait..."
"This is all on you—don't blame me even in the underworld."
In an instant, Jang So-cheon's aura turned as cold as a northern gale. Sensing mortal danger on instinct, the middle-aged man frantically tried to signal his men.
But by then, the masked men had already closed the distance.
Whiiiiiish!
Their swords and blades surged toward Jang So-cheon's vitals and acupoints.
Having trained together for so long, their combined assault was flawlessly coordinated.
"Die!"
Jang So-cheon's skill exceeded their expectations, but no one blocks ten foes with one hand.
The masked men attacked with lethal intent, prepared to sacrifice one or two if it meant landing a fatal blow.
In this do-or-die moment, it seemed Jang So-cheon would be shredded by their blades any second.
"Light travels a thousand li in an instant, and the Piercing Sword Sect's blade cleaves that light."
A flash erupted from Jang So-cheon's sword tip, followed by a fierce whoosh that pierced the masked men.
For that instant, their wrists gripping the swords seemed to freeze mid-air—an optical illusion.
Then, like the moon slowly dipping below the night sky, their blades lost momentum and plummeted to the ground. Severed forearms tumbling alongside.
"Kaaaaagh!"
Not realizing their arms were gone, they took a few more steps before finally unleashing horrific screams from deep in their throats.
And as another flash gleamed from Jang So-cheon's sword tip. The masked men clutched round holes in their chests and collapsed pathetically—no one first among them.
All save the middle-aged man.
"......Impressive swordsmanship."
Having used his subordinates as shields to barely block Jang So-cheon's strike, the middle-aged man eyed him with profound glint in his gaze.
"So this is the Piercing Sword Sect's secret art: the Spectrum Eighteen Hands Sword Art?"
"......"
Jang So-cheon tilted his bloodied blade diagonally in response—a silent answer.
Curious? Find out for yourself.
"A foolish question."
The middle-aged man gave a wry smile and wiped the blood trickling from his mouth with his sleeve.
Then he glared sharply at Jang So-cheon, whose breathing remained steady without a hint of fatigue.
"No need to drag this out. Let's settle it with one final strike."
As he finished speaking, inky qi rose like heat haze from his blade. He seemed poised to pour all his qi into one last clash.
In response, Jang So-cheon readjusted his grip and regulated his breath, preparing his own decisive blow.
The encircling Black Society members held their breaths, desperately praying for Jang So-cheon's victory—when.
Kwaaaang!
The middle-aged man's eyes flashed, and he kicked off the ground powerfully, soaring into the air.
Jang So-cheon naturally assumed he was launching an aerial assault with sword qi or energy projection and braced for a forceful counter.
But what was this?
With grim resolve, the man leaped skyward, feinting a qi blast at Jang So-cheon—only to spin mid-air and vault over the manor wall, fleeing.
It happened in the blink of an eye. Jang So-cheon stood dumbfounded, too slow to pursue, letting out a hollow laugh.