Each Side's Reinforcements
"Heuk Jin-jo...!"
He'd come to execute a traitor, only for unknown masked experts to appear—and at once he tucked his tail and fled, a pitiful sight if ever there was one.
We moved to give chase. That was the moment it happened.
BOOM!
Honghwaru's front gate shattered into splinters as the blast rolled through the air. Amid a rain of wooden debris, two black-clad figures slipped in like shadows and planted themselves in our path.
Jet-black martial robes. Eyes thick with killing intent. A razor-edged pressure rolling off them from head to toe.
"Who the hell are you?!"
I gripped the Jiokchammabong tight and glared them down. Just when I thought I finally had Ilhong's revenge in hand, these meddlers had to barge in.
But there was something off about them. They were the ones who'd forced their way in, yet they kept trading glances as if the whole situation left them baffled.
"...Strange."
The lead man in black looked from me to Ilhong, muttering under his breath.
"The Holy Maiden's prophecy never mentioned a man like this."
Their faintly startled gazes landed on me. And in the half-caught words Holy Maiden and prophecy—
The others might not have known what that meant, but with a former Holy Maiden living rent-free in my skull, I had a pretty good idea who they were.
Ming Cult, then.
Demonic Cultists?
Salsung and I muttered it at the same time.
At the words "Demonic Cult," Salsung whipped around and glared at me. As if a creature that didn't even have eyes yet could intimidate anyone by turning its head.
"You bastards—Demonic Cult?"
"...!"
At the blunt call of their identity, the Demonic Cultists' bodies twitched—only for a fraction of a second.
Tiny as it was, that was all I needed to be sure.
"We only meant to buy a little time."
"The fact that you recognized us is highly suspicious. Spit out who you are."
Why did people in masks always demand to know who you were? I was wearing a strip of Ilhong's skirt over my face precisely because I had no intention of answering that.
"Demonic Cultists—do you not know me?"
I steadied my breath and wrapped pure white Staff Force around the Jiokchammabong.
"Who are you...?"
To their suspicion-laced question, I tilted my chin high and answered in a voice dripping with majesty.
"I am your supreme sovereign, Cheonma. Kneel."
At that absurd provocation, the black-clad faces twisted with rage.
"You insolent little—!"
"I'll rip that tongue out of your mouth!"
Taat!
Blind with fury, the Demonic Cultists charged, murderous intent pouring off them. Whether they'd trained for joint assaults or not, twin streams of dark-crimson Sword Force, forged from demonic arts, split the lower left and upper right of my guard almost in the same breath—no openings left.
And I met that coordinated strike the way I always did: with pure, stupid force.
Cheonma's exclusive footwork — crushing dominion made flesh
KWAANG!
Scarlet Sword Force and pure white Staff Force collided in midair. The blast shook the building; a storm of energy howled through every corner of the room.
When I alone cut off both streams of Sword Force completely, the Demonic Cult experts' eyes went wide in disbelief.
"Haa!"
In the heartbeat while three weapons locked in the air, Ilhong slipped low under the clash and raked a line of pure white sword-qi across their waists.
Clang!
But the Demonic Cultists were no amateurs either. Only the hems of their black robes were cleanly sheared away—not a drop of blood or flesh taken.
Ilhong bit her lip, clearly frustrated.
"That masked man is an expert. And he seems rather familiar with our movements."
"The more this goes on, the more suspicious he becomes. We have to capture him and drag the truth out of him."
The two Demonic Cult experts traded words while staring at me.
Apparently I was becoming too much of a nuisance to simply stall and discard.
And from that talk of stalling, it was clear their real objective had been Heuk Jin-jo's escape all along.
Even at this distance their Sword Force only clung to their blades instead of flying free—meaning they, like me, were Transcendental Peak Realm martial artists.
"Ilhong."
"Yes."
I locked eyes with her once. Call it a meeting of minds—she read my look instantly and began rummaging through her robes.
Taat!
I dropped my center of gravity, drove inner energy through the Yongcheon point in my sole, and shot forward like a bolt toward the enemy.
Roaring Cheonma's exclusive art — then unfurling the Dog Beating Staff Technique's Staff Strikes Twin Dogs
Shouting Cheonma's secret art, I launched into the strange, exquisite Dog Beating Staff Technique form Staff Strikes Twin Dogs.
A thin line cutting through a single point—then bursting wide, both ends of the staff lashing out to hammer the enemy from either side.
KAANG!
While I shattered their tight formation, Ilhong worked the dart tube she'd pulled from her robes and unleashed a storm of razor-sharp throwing needles in a single volley.
Fwoosh!
Silver needles blanketed the area like a cloudburst. Caught off guard by the sudden hidden-weapon assault, the Demonic Cult experts made sharp little sounds of alarm.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Needles that missed their mark hammered into Honghwaru's solid walls in a continuous rattle of impacts.
The moment they fully cleared the choke point to dodge the needles, Heuk Jin-jo's fleeing backside came into view beyond the narrow entrance of the pleasure house.
"Those are—Tang Clan hidden weapons...?"
"Cowards! Drawing hidden weapons in a fight!"
Hearing the word "coward" from a Demonic Cultist's mouth might have been the highest compliment imaginable.
The experts who'd rolled across the floor like fools to avoid the poison needles scrambled back to their feet, ready to pursue us.
But in their haste they never noticed the little present Ilhong had flung toward the doorway.
An iron sphere with its fuse cut so short it was practically an impact detonator.
"Wha—!"
KWAANG!
A violent explosion and a thick curtain of smoke swallowed the entrance to the pleasure house.
We tore after Heuk Jin-jo as he fled the road leading out of Honghwaru in a blind panic.
Shoving through the crowd that blocked his path, he looked for all the world like a cornered rat. Beside me, Ilhong in particular was ablaze with purpose, hounding his heels with everything she had.
"Heuk Jin-jo—!"
Ilhong's great shout rang the length of Beijing's main avenue.
Heuk Jin-jo twisted to look back, his face stamped with pure shock.
He'd been certain the Demonic Cultists at Honghwaru would handle us. To be chased this doggedly—he couldn't believe it.
"What in the world are you?! Who the hell are you people?!"
That made three times he'd yelled it. He fled with a face full of bafflement, every word soaked in bitter grudge and rage.
"Stay away, damn you!"
He yanked a flash of steel from his robes and hurled throwing knives at us right in the middle of the avenue.
Clang-clang-clang!
Ilhong and I swung our weapons; the blades sparked and ricocheted away in a noisy clatter.
Around us, Beijing residents screamed and went sprawling.
"Haaah!"
"Murim people are fighting again!"
With a chorus of here we go again, the townsfolk drained off the main road like a retreating tide.
I felt a twinge of guilt toward my neighbors in Beijing for putting them through this.
"Heuk Jin-jo!"
I never knew Ilhong's lungs could go that loud.
So we raised every kind of ruckus imaginable, drew every eye on the street, and kept up the chase—until at last, hoping to shake us, he ducked into the mouth of one of Beijing's back alleys.
He looked confident he could lose us in there. But we had run those tangled, twisting alleys like our own front yard back in our beggar days.
"Ilhong! You know the way?"
"Of course! Leave it to me!"
Then he was a rat in a jar. Certain of victory, we were about to plunge into the dark alley.
That was when another figure erupted from the alley mouth and barred our path.
KWAANG!
"Oh, for fuck's—who the hell are you?!"
The curse slipped out before I could stop it.
Like the experts before him, he was a middle-aged man in black martial robes. But his realm was on another level entirely from the ones we'd just faced.
Even at a full twenty paces, a single line of Sword Force tore through the air like a living thing and came at us with the speed of lightning.
Meaning this Demonic Cult expert wasn't mere Transcendental Peak—he was a Transcendent Realm master who could project fully formed Sword Force.
Tsssss—
As if to prove it, another long, keen blade of Sword Force uncoiled from his sword. Its power, density, and precision belonged to a height of martial art that Transcendental Peak could never hope to match.
"Shit! Son of a—!"
A trajectory of Sword Force skimmed so close it nearly grazed my brow.
It was always Transcendent Realm masters who made things impossible. I could handle peers at Transcendental Peak somehow—but Transcendent Realm was a nightmare to face.
Ilhong and I forgot all thought of counterattack and flung ourselves every which way, barely dodging the streams of Sword Force that kept lashing out.
"Masked man—withdraw. Or I will take your head."
The master's cold voice warned us not to meddle in their affairs. I hastily reset my stance and raised the black staff once more.
And behind us, along the road we'd come, I felt another presence.
"You bastards!"
"Hidden weapons and thunder bombs?! Just like you Central Plains dogs—!"
The same Transcendental Peak experts we'd thought we'd completely shaken.
Scorched by the blast and with robes torn, they'd taken real damage—but they still looked more than capable of fighting.
"What do we do, Boss?"
There was a tremor in Ilhong's voice.
"..."
I'd thought we almost had Heuk Jin-jo. Ironically, it was us who looked caught.
Enemy reinforcements had slammed the trap shut front and back—a classic no-way-out. And one of them was Transcendent Realm. Not an easy matchup.
So I stood there, face twisted with trouble, scratching my head and hunting for an escape route—when
Whooom—
From the sky, a massive greatsaber came crashing down with a roar of thunder.
KWAANG—!
Where the Transcendent Realm master had been standing, a crater several yards across opened in the earth. Dust and stone exploded outward in every direction.
Her decisive ambush having missed, a woman like a tiger spat a sharp tch and clicked her tongue.
At that earth-shaking, tyrannical saber art, I knew at once who this sudden reinforcement was.
"...Jo Harang!"
Steam-wreathed dumplings lay scattered around her feet.
And with another white dumpling still clamped in her mouth, it seemed she'd spotted us while out buying lunch.
"Mm—mmph?"
Even through the mask, the eye-catching black staff and pure white Staff Force must have given me away on the spot.
"Finish chewing first."
Jo Harang swallowed the dumpling she'd been mashing into her cheek with a heavy gulp. Whole, without even chewing—truly a formidable woman.
"Hey. You're the guy I know, right? Who the hell are you fighting?"
The Divine Wind Saber, Jo Harang, pointed at the black-clad experts surrounding us front and back and demanded an answer.
"A dog of Haoman—and Demonic Cultists!"
Demonic Cultists she'd fought countless times along the border regions. In other words: "evil men" she was free to kill. The Purple Micro Star in her eyes flared with violet light.
"One Transcendent Realm master and two Transcendental Peak. Good thing I showed up—you'd have been in real trouble."
"Tell me about it."
Jo Harang stepped up beside me, bumped my arm, and grinned.
On ordinary days you could never tell what she was thinking—but the moment a fight started, there wasn't a more reliable martial artist alive.
"Lucky I came, right?"
"Yeah. You're the only one, Harang."
How many times had we already saved each other's lives? If Ilhong was starting to feel like a little sister growing into a proper lady, Jo Harang felt like a comrade-in-arms you could trust with anything.
But when I told Jo Harang she was the only one, Ilhong beside us pulled a distinctly sour face.
"So who's the masked girl next to you?"
She hadn't recognized Ilhong and asked with a puzzled look.
Before I could answer, Ilhong cut in with a sharp edge to her voice.
"I am Master Dan's lover!"
Still riding the role she'd been playing since morning.
Jo Harang's brows knotted into a deeply unimpressed inverted V.
"What...? Mujin. Who the hell is this girl for real?"
"...They're coming!"
I frantically changed the subject and shouted the Demonic Cultists' fresh assault.