Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Chapter 17: Forced Choice (3)
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BOOM!
“Gah!”
Yeom Gwang screamed as a fist burst through the wall and struck him.
Crack.
His mouth gaped open in agony as his spine twisted.
In the blink of an eye, Ju Gyeom drew his sword like a flash of light and slashed wildly at the wall.
Scree! Whoosh!
A swift sword strike launched after flipping his body using the recoil from the wall exploding.
It was a remarkably agile response, but the monster that had broken through the wall was no pushover.
“Tch. Hiding here too?”
Thud. Clang-clang-clang.
Dozens of black palms materialized in the air, deflecting the blade.
Only then could Ju Gyeom make out the attacker.
It was an elderly man with a sturdy build, clad in tight black garb, his skin stretched taut from his side to his elbows like bat wings.
And on his hands—black gauntlets.
Seeing them, Ju Gyeom cried out in alarm.
“Silver Moon Flying Bandit Gon Ya-pyeong!”
“Hmph! You recognize this old man? Not bad for a brat!”
The black gloves moved even more chaotically, filling the alley with a frenzy of shadowy hands.
Clang-clang-clang! Ping!
The Silver Hall instructors swung their swords in a flurry, forming a wall of blades.
“What business does a vile thief of the unorthodox sects have here?!”
“The dying need not know.”
Whoosh!
As Gon Ya-pyeong charged right at his face, Ju Gyeom unleashed his full power in a swift sword technique.
A killing strike said to slay foes within ten paces before they even realized it.
“Hm?”
Gon Ya-pyeong tensed his arms upon reading the sword's momentum. His wing membranes unfurled, twisting his body mid-air.
Thud. Tat-tat-tat.
Like a bat, he zigzagged through the air multiple times to evade, his eerie footwork making Ju Gyeom grit his teeth.
'The real Silver Moon Flying Bandit. That bizarre lightness skill is definitely Floating Wing Technique.'
The situation was dire.
In such a confined space, his movement technique—which gained even more power here—was the worst matchup possible.
Whoosh.
Ju Gyeom channeled his full inner energy as the Silver Moon Flying Bandit kicked off the wall and showered palm strikes.
Clang!
“Urk.”
Pushed back two steps, Ju Gyeom's expression brightened. The palm force's inner energy was weaker than expected.
The reason was obvious.
“That old thief is injured! Surround him and buy time!”
As he deflected the chaotic hand shadows with a satisfied smile—
Pierce. Pierce-pierce.
Excruciating pain shot through his knee and ankle, drawing a scream from Ju Gyeom.
“Argh, aaagh!”
Intense pain raced up his spine to the top of his head, shaking the foundation of his sword stance—his lower body.
In that instant, Gon Ya-pyeong, who had looped back through the air, mercilessly struck his chest and jaw with palm strikes, then kicked his abdomen and dantian.
Thud. Thud-thud.
“Keh-hek!”
In his soaring vision, blood sprayed alongside several white teeth.
Thud. Thud-thud-thud!
Ju Gyeom's waist and side took successive hits, hurling him away like discarded trash.
“Instructor Ju!”
Yeom Gwang bellowed hoarsely as Ju Gyeom crumpled in a spray of blood in an instant.
Chu Un-hwi was already forgotten.
The foe was a notorious unorthodox master who had effortlessly crushed even their strongest, Ju Gyeom.
Survival came first.
Thud! Clang-clang-clang!
He slammed Ju Gyeom's neck against the wall, then vanished like a ghost in search of the next target, his palm strikes raining down. It was maddening.
“Where do you think you're going!”
But the Silver Hall instructors weren't pushovers either. They instinctively clustered and formed a sword formation.
A bandit bleeding from his side couldn't break the sturdy Divine Martial Academy sword formation.
The plan was to pin him here and buy time until the Murim Alliance experts arrived at the commotion.
“Tch. A joint attack? Aren't you righteous dogs ashamed?”
It worked, briefly.
The trouble began when Gon Ya-pyeong shook his left hand oddly.
Snip! Snip-snip!
“Grah!”
With erratic footwork and swinging hands, blood erupted from one instructor's wrist.
Seeing the shimmering thread amid the spraying blood fountain, Yeom Gwang screamed.
“Celestial Silken Threads?!”
“Sharp eyes!”
Celestial Silken Threads.
Threads as tough as steel and sharp as blades.
So rare that even ten times their weight in gold couldn't buy them.
Yet he wielded these elastic threads like a flexible sword, throwing everyone into chaos.
Ping—!
Incredibly, the threads wrapped around a sword, snuffing its energy and snapping it clean.
“Urk.”
The instructor whose energy was forcibly disrupted vomited blood from the backlash.
“Instructor Sa!”
One instructor screamed amid their sword wall, but the Silver Moon Flying Bandit was already upon him, his palm shadow engulfing the man.
Thud! Boom-boom!
“Urgh!”
As his comrade collapsed with limbs twisted unnaturally, the survivors were horrified.
'Was the Silver Moon Flying Bandit's martial arts this strong?'
It dwarfed the rumors.
“You're next!”
Clang!
Gon Ya-pyeong dove into the flustered instructors, unleashing a storm of palms. The remaining three steeled themselves for death and swung their swords.
Thud. Clang-clang.
Boom. Boom-boom-boom.
Swords and palms clashed, filling the alley with explosive bursts like frying beans.
“Urgh. Not bad.”
Bleeding profusely, Gon Ya-pyeong sweated coldly despite his advantage.
A back-and-forth skirmish.
Whoever faltered first would lose.
Sword gleams and palm shadows intertwined in over a hundred exchanges in moments.
One instructor, holding the line steadfastly, clutched his abdomen and stifled a groan.
“Guh.”
Thud. Thud-thud-thud!
Trapped in palm shadows, he jerked like a marionette with cut strings before being flung aside.
Seeing the protrusion bulging from his downed comrade's bloodied dantian, the others' eyes widened in rage.
“You coward! Using hidden weapons?! Ack!”
The roaring instructor leaped back—only to spray blood and collapse in a heap.
With all comrades down, the last Silver Hall instructor, Gwan Saek, was in a bind.
'Damn. Talk about bad luck.'
Truth be told, he hadn't planned to come today.
He'd only followed after overhearing talk that worried him about this Chu Un-hwi fellow.
'Just wanted to help Instructor Moyong since we're friends.'
These ruthless types— he'd tried to dissuade them, only to run into the Silver Moon Flying Bandit.
'No choice. A warrior's life dances on a blade's edge.'
Resolved, Gwan Saek raised his sword toward Gon Ya-pyeong.
But his reaction was odd.
“Aaah! Help!”
Yeom Gwang crawled away without looking back, fixated on a dark corner of the alley?
'Luring me into complacency?'
Gwan Saek watched him sword at the ready for a moment.
“Tch. This won't do.”
Gon Ya-pyeong, glaring into the darkness, shot upward and unfurled his wings.
Whoosh.
Gwan Saek slumped as the bandit vanished on a gust of wind.
Somehow, the monster's whim had spared him.
With trembling hands, he pulled a signal horn from his bosom and blew with all his might.
Screeeee—.
The Murim Alliance emergency horn echoed through the night.
Screeeee—.
Yeom Gwang collapsed at the distant horn.
“Hah. Hah. Hah. What the hell.”
Why was everything going so wrong?
Why was an unorthodox monster in Infinite City?
His thoughts didn't linger.
The image of Silver Hall instructors—whom he revered like the heavens—being effortlessly bloodied returned.
Clack. Clack. The Silver Moon Flying Bandit was that strong?'
Grind.
His thumb, jammed between chattering teeth of fear, bled quickly, but Yeom Gwang felt no pain.
'This is a nightmare. A nightmare.'
It was utterly unforeseen.
Today's plan was simple: rough up the annoying punk heading to the Nangong Family.
That was supposed to end the day.
He'd mobilized all his connections and spent a fortune for this.
No chance of failure— so why?
“Ugh. This is a nightmare, a nightmare.”
But the nightmare wasn't over.
[Is fleeing all you can do?]
A voice he never expected to hear here rang out.
Startled, Yeom Gwang turned to see—
“Ah, nothing there.”
A hallucination?
Then it whispered in his ear.
[Over here. This way.]
“Aaagh!”
Shaking violently, Yeom Gwang whipped his head around.
Nothing.
Nothing visible.
[Don't be so scared.]
“Disappear! Get lost!”
What was this voice?
Why him? Enraged, Yeom Gwang tore at his hair.
Blood streamed unnoticed as he kept ripping.
Only then—
A small figure emerged from the alley shadows.
“In, Instructor Chu?”
But no.
It was too inhuman to call it that.
Darkness haloed it, red eyes gleaming eerily.
'Like a yokai.'
No human could be this thing.
Why had he thought Instructor Chu?
He was human, at least.
“Aaah...”
Unbearably terrifying.
A grotesque being beyond imagination spoke.
[How's your side?]
Wh-why his side?
Looking down fumblingly, it was fine.
The voice returned.
[Oh dear. Your side's torn open.]
It was.
His previously fine side gaped open, spilling pale innards.
Light faded from his pupils as Yeom Gwang murmured entranced.
“Yeah... my side's torn.”
Scraping it with his held knife brought relief.
[Why's your wrist broken?]
“Right. My wrist's broken.”
Pounding his left hand like a hammer made his right wrist dangle.
[Let me see your wounds. So pitiful.]
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Expressionless, Yeom Gwang punched his own face relentlessly.
Lips split, eyes swelled, but he didn't stop.
Bloodied in seconds, he only mumbled entranced.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Mechanical thuds filled the alley.
Later, arriving Murim Alliance warriors found Yeom Gwang—a mangled mess like a child's discarded dumpling.
“Huuuuuuh.”
Nangong Yun-ho exhaled deeply and opened his half-closed eyes.
He turned to the figure leaning against the door, arms crossed, scowling.
“Brother. Why?”
Nangong Yong-ho looked thoroughly unconvinced.
“Why anger Uncle? This is your chance to return to the family. Opportunities like this don't come twice.”
“Yong-ho.”
“I really don't get you, brother. After all that hardship, you finally get a good shot—why push it away? Ah, right. Want better terms? I can talk to him. He listens to me even if not you.”
What terms? Advanced family sword arts? A key position?
To wield real power, maybe oversee finances.
Watching his chattering brother, Nangong Yun-ho called out.
“Yong-ho.”
Nangong Yong-ho's cheerful face darkened.
“Why reject it?! Why!”
“...”
“Is Uncle right? Do you covet my position? Does it hurt that I'm the heir?!”
The enraged shout came from a boy Nangong Yun-ho no longer recognized.
When had the candy-begging child changed so?
Ultimately, Nangong Yong-ho sneered.
“You said wait till tonight, right? Why? Think that hotshot instructor will change things?”
“...”
“You don't know Uncle. That instructor won't make it. Think meticulous Uncle would leave it alone?”
For the first time, Nangong Yun-ho's eye twitched.
But only briefly.
Returning to calm, Nangong Yong-ho wore out first with his barbs.
He warned.
“Uncle's waited long enough. Time to decide. Your first chance to meet the family's expectations? Stop being stubborn.”
Bang.
Nangong Yun-ho closed his eyes against the slamming door, vision wavering.