The Treasure and the Flying Dagger
"You've got a filthy mouth for a brat! My blade will drink its fill of Tang Clan blood today!"
One of the side effects of the Six Devils Killing Saber—an extreme excitement triggered by the sight of blood.
I Sal was more worked up than he had ever been.
"What are you, a vampire? You look like a dried-up bone yourself."
I Sal had always hated his own gaunt, towering frame, and Sanlong poking at exactly that wound made the killing intent pour off him all the more thickly.
"Die!"
Sanlong slipped his hand into his sleeve.
Shwik!
Then, in a flash of light, his arm shot out and loosed a hidden projectile.
"Your martial arts aren't as good as your mouth!"
I Sal batted away every projectile Sanlong threw and closed the distance in a heartbeat, settling into his stance.
"Th… that stance—it's dangerous!"
Tang Bo knew exactly what it was.
Because he had fallen to that very technique himself, subdued without even landing a hand, toyed with all this while.
"Take this! I'll carve you limb from limb!"
Before Sanlong's eyes, I Sal vanished like a puff of smoke.
"Your trick is what it is, you dried bone."
Thwack!
Sanlong, without a moment's hesitation, lashed a foot backward—and it landed squarely in I Sal's stomach.
"Kuhk!"
Chwak!
As I Sal staggered back, Sanlong rained hidden projectiles down on him.
Like a sudden downpour, the barrage kept his blade thrashing desperately.
"Hah… hah! These damn projectiles—"
Ping!
Then I Sal's vision spun, and the world seemed to whirl around him in circles.
What… when did—
He hadn't even felt the pain!
Somewhere along the way, slender projectiles had buried themselves in his thighs.
I ate the Blood Poison Pill. That's why… to some extent—
But the poison Sanlong had coated his projectiles with was no ordinary venom. It was the poison of the thirty-year-aged Blood Congealing Serpent.
It was what remained after setting some aside for Oryong—a treasured stock. Yet for these butchers, he wanted to pour it out without holding back.
He wanted them to face their end while feeling their whole body tear itself apart.
"Kehk! Khek! What kind of poison… kehak!"
Blood poured from his seven orifices, and I Sal retched up clotted blood before collapsing in a heap.
Sanlong walked toward him slowly.
"Kehk… kehak…"
Holding off thirty-year Blood Congealing Serpent venom with a mere common Blood Poison Pill was, in truth, impossible.
I Sal realized death was coming for him.
"How… cowardly… using poison…"
To I Sal, speaking through pain that felt like his body was being torn apart, Sanlong answered with a sneer.
"Look who's talking, you dried bone. A man who butchered people who didn't even know martial arts has no right to whine about foul play."
"If we'd fought face to face… I would have taken a whelp like you—kuhk!"
"Barking nonsense like a proper dried bone. Where on a real battlefield do you find a fair, face-to-face duel?"
"Have you… no honor at all, even for the Tang Clan!"
He was trying to land a psychological blow by invoking the honor of the orthodox sects in his own way—but unfortunately for him, his opponent was a Tang.
Words like fair play and honor had worked on the Cheongseong disciples. They were never going to work here.
"Our Tang Clan calls considering an enemy's honor 'inefficiency.' Your comrades will be following you soon. Go on—suffer all the more, dried bone."
"You… you…"
Chwak!
Toward I Sal, contorting his face into the most agonized expression he could manage, Sanlong picked up his fallen blade and swung it, cleaving his head from his neck.
"Tang Bo."
Sanlong, who had stood staring at the severed head for a long while, finally called out.
"Oh—no—I mean, yes, Third Young Master…"
Having witnessed Sanlong's martial prowess, Tang Bo answered with more deference than he had ever shown.
"What happened to the others?"
"Gi Chaeyun led the village survivors into hiding. A few of us tried to lure them away, but… we were all cut down."
He had tried to hold out alone, but for a Second-Rate martial artist like Tang Bo, there was a limit to how long he could last.
"There are survivors?"
It was a small mercy amid disaster.
"Gi Chaeyun threw together traps and built a hiding place, but they found it almost immediately."
"Where is it?"
"I'll guide you… kheuk…"
Tang Bo looked in no condition to move right now, so Sanlong drew a Golden Spear Pill from his robe and pressed it into his hand.
"You head back to the village and take care of the dead. You know you'd be no help as you are, right?"
Tang Bo had never felt more powerless in his life.
"Yes…"
"Let's move efficiently."
"Understood, Third Young Master. Where Gi Chaeyun is, if you head this way—"
At those words, Sanlong threw himself into full-speed footwork in the direction Tang Bo had indicated.
"Aaagh, let go! Let go of me!"
Gi Chaeyun was dragged out of the cave by the hair, clutched in Il Sal's grip.
"I'll grant your wish, then."
"Kuhk!"
Thwack!
Il Sal seized his head and slammed it straight into the rock.
His forehead split open, and Gi Chaeyun crumpled bonelessly to the ground. Il Sal swept the fallen hair back from his own face and spoke.
"Now then. Where is the treasure?"
"Treasure? What treasure?"
"Ha… I see you're still not ready to have a civil conversation."
And so Il Sal's threshing began.
The villagers couldn't bear to watch Gi Chaeyun beaten so brutally, and turned their heads away.
"I won't talk…"
"Hehehe… hehe…"
"Tang Clan bastards… seriously!"
Even as the beating went on and on, Gi Chaeyun actually laughed, drawing poison from his sleeve and trying to fling it. Il Sal found him utterly absurd.
"Sam Sal!"
Il Sal looked over, and Sam Sal was already dragging the surviving villagers of Seoksu Village out one by one, forcing them to their knees.
"If you don't talk, their heads will fall off one at a time."
Taking hostages—something that had worked well enough on the Cheongseong disciples.
But against the Tang Clan, there was no way in hell this would work.
"The moment any of them dies, I will never open my mouth again."
In Gi Chaeyun's venomous glare, Il Sal sensed that prying out the treasure's location would be no easy feat.
On the battlefield, he had seen men like this often.
Men who would sooner die than bend.
"Just tell us. Then I'll spare every one of them."
He switched tactics and tried coaxing—but not a seed of it took root in Gi Chaeyun.
"Hmph! You slaughter people out of nowhere and burn the village to the ground, and I'm supposed to believe your word? Even if I told you, you'd just kill me and the villagers. It's what you Black Dao bastards always do."
In truth, Gi Chaeyun had no idea what treasure they were talking about. But watching their behavior, he'd figured out that the caravan they'd attacked must have been carrying something incredibly valuable.
Even while taking a beating, his mind was spinning at full speed.
I have to buy time. Third Young Master survived… he'll make it safely back to the Tang Clan, and he'll avenge us for sure—
The reason Gi Chaeyun could hold out this fiercely was his unshakable faith—even if he died here, the Tang Clan would repay his debt with vengeance, without fail.
The Tang Clan might not always repay kindness, but a grudge? They settled it to the last drop.
"So just kill me."
Il Sal was starting to feel a touch weary of him.
I'd only heard stories of how ruthless the Tang Clan was… but seeing it in person, it's real.
He remembered the Tang Youth Training Unit member who, even half-dead, had tried to use poison to deal damage on his way out.
"Fine, then I'll just kill you and every villager and ransack your hiding place myself!"
"Sure. Go right ahead."
At Gi Chaeyun's smile, Il Sal betrayed nothing outwardly, but impatience began gnawing at him.
Having provoked even the Tang Clan on top of Cheongseong, he needed to retrieve the treasure fast and get out of here.
"The villagers are going to die, you know?"
"Please, spare us!"
"I'm begging you!"
Despite the villagers' desperate cries, Gi Chaeyun laughed hard enough to shake his whole body.
"Kheheh! My apologies, folks! I'll beg your forgiveness in the afterlife!"
"Uuuuh!"
"Gaaaah!"
Crack!
Having broken Gi Chaeyun's arm, Il Sal raised his blade and strode toward the villagers.
"Watch closely. Every one of them dies because of you."
At the murderous look on Il Sal's face, Gi Chaeyun's composure finally cracked.
"Wait! Stop! I'll… I'll talk!"
"Ha! Why should I stop?"
"Because that's the only way I'll tell you where the treasure is! Please!"
"Hm… fine."
Had the tide turned? Il Sal approached Gi Chaeyun with a leisurely expression.
The moment the location left his lips, he would detonate all the killing intent he'd been holding back in a single stroke.
"Go on. Where did you hide it?"
"The treasure is…"
Watching Gi Chaeyun stall even now, the urge to kill surged up—but Il Sal barely held it down.
He just wanted that mouth to open already.
"The treasure is up your… #*&$#. Easy to find, right?"
…Had he ever, in his entire life, heard an insult this low and this depraved? Il Sal's patience snapped.
"Treasure, my ass! Die!"
"Kheheh! My apologies! I'll be going on ahead!"
Sensing his end, Gi Chaeyun closed his eyes.
But just as Il Sal raised the blade to bring it down, a chill crawled up his spine.
"Sam Sal! Get down!"
"Yes? What do you me—"
Boom!
Sam Sal's head burst open before he could even react. All that remained was his headless body, and a single flying dagger threading through the empty air.
"Reinforcements! Damn it all!"
Il Sal moved to finish Gi Chaeyun on the spot—but Sanlong was one step faster.
Chwarak! Kkagang!
Against projectiles flying at him like lightning, Il Sal had no choice but to swing his blade as he stumbled backward.
Wuuung.
The blade that deflected them rang out as if it ached.
He's no ordinary foe. At the very least, my equal.
Shaking out hands numb from the shock, Il Sal steadied his grip.
"Who are you?"
"Can't you tell from the uniform?"
Seeing Tang Sanlong dressed exactly like Gi Chaeyun, Il Sal swept his eyes over his surroundings, then curled his lips into a cruel smile.
"If you survived alone, you should have run. Walking into your own grave on your own two feet."
"Grave, nothing."
Sanlong held up what he was carrying.
"I came to deliver a present. Is this what you were looking for?"
"No—"
At his words, greed kindled in Il Sal's eyes.
The moment he recovered that thing, he would slaughter everyone here. That desire burned like fire.
"Hand it over, now! Then I'll spare them all."
"Here, catch."
Sanlong tossed the cloth-wrapped bundle at Il Sal's feet, and Il Sal instantly knew what it was.
"…I Sal!"
The moment he saw I Sal's severed head, rage shook Il Sal's whole body of its own accord.
"Now that's a work of art, that expression."
"You dare… you DARE! My sworn brothers!"
The killing intent of the Six Devils Killing Saber erupted outward, rapidly devouring everything around it.
"Kuhk!"
"Kkehk!"
The survivors of Seoksu Village could barely breathe under its weight, but Sanlong's face was calmer than ever as he slipped a hand into his sleeve.
"Oooh~ how scary~"
"You will not die an easy death!"
KUNG!
Kicking off the ground hard enough to shatter it, Il Sal lunged forward, blade swinging!
Even Cheongseong's top disciple had been beaten to the punch by this attack, unable to respond properly.
Just like this—the cut will land—
By now Sanlong should have been in reach. Yet somehow, he wasn't.
The way he slid back was uncanny and swift.
"Typical gutter-rat Tang Clan—running away is your supreme art!"
"Why would a ranged fighter close with a melee one, idiot?"
Faced with Sanlong's incomprehensible words, Il Sal tried another provocation.
"Just as I thought—the whole Tang Clan are cowards! Your comrades ran too, tails between their legs, every one of them just like you!"
Sanlong didn't yield an inch.
"Your sworn brother was poisoned, and he died screaming in agony while trying to run from me, though?"
"Don't you DARE speak of my brothers with that mouth!"
"Don'ta speaka of my brothas witha that moutha~"
"UAAAAAH!"
A ferocious storm of saber energy whipped around like a whirlwind.
Through it all, Sanlong moved, holding his distance by the narrowest of margins.
Fast. Definitely a cut above those brother bastards.
Even among the First-Rate, there were gradations—and this one was on par with the assassin he'd faced back in Guya Forest.
But then and now are different.
Sanlong drew the iron wire from his sleeve and focused on the movement of the enemy's blade. Then, one thing became clear to him.
It was never ghostly footwork—just killing intent dressing up ordinary moves. Pathetic, really.
Pressuring the enemy's body and mind with killing intent, dazzling them with disorienting movement, then striking for the vitals—a textbook Black Dao saber art.
Against someone weaker than you, it would outperform any technique in existence. But against a superior, it was no different from an ordinary street saber form.
Calling it a martial art was a waste of the word. Trash technique, through and through.
"Die!"
Hm!
Every now and then a chilling wave of saber energy burst forth to menace him, but with his exceptional eyes, Sanlong could dodge it easily.
In his past life, his eyes had always outrun his body. Now, his body moved exactly as fast as his eyes could react.
How grueling—and how joyful—it is to move your body exactly as you will it, only those who have truly trained can know.
Besides his internal energy cultivation, Sanlong had drilled his body relentlessly, and the results were showing in real combat.
"Trash! Utter trash!"
Kang!
Through the intricate chain of Il Sal's techniques, Sanlong's iron wire bored in with razor precision.