I Said I’d Cut That Neck Clean Off (1)
The enemy force was roughly twice their number.
Each individual fighter on that side was stronger, too.
What was more, they had been fighting together all this time, maintaining peak condition through a proper balance of training and rest.
And as for this side?
They had only half the numbers, and unlike the warriors of the Ice Palace, they had spent the last few years unable to train properly. Worse, their bodies were already badly battered.
Coordinated breathing through group training?
They couldn’t even dream of that.
Looking at it coldly, their strength was half—no, less than half.
But in Chung Myung’s head as he charged forward, none of that was even worth considering.
Half the numbers? Lower-quality fighters?
So what?
That was an everyday matter.
He had always fought with his life on the line against Demonic Sect bastards who charged like beasts, heedless of their own lives. Enemies outnumbering him by more than two to one was normal; sometimes he had to survive against foes numbered in the dozens to one.
Mount Hua had raised him, but it was the Demonic Sect that had completed him.
So there was nothing new about this.
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa!
The wind brushing past his ears sounded like thunder. The knife-like cold struck his face as though trying to tear it apart, but he didn’t even blink.
Seeing the Mount Hua disciples charging at them, a faint flicker of dismay crossed the enemy’s faces. Chung Myung caught it at once.
The resolve in the faces of those at the front of the enemy ranks slowly hardened.
Whatever the situation, when someone came rushing straight at your throat, there was no room for stray thoughts.
But Chung Myung had no intention of letting them get into any kind of defensive posture.
His body, which had been charging in with furious speed, seemed to stretch out like a pulled taffy strip, and in the next instant he arrived before the Ice Palace warriors at a speed several times faster than before.
From the Ice Palace warriors’ perspective, it was less like he had moved and more like he had simply appeared.
“I-Ihyeonhwan…”
Before the word Ihyeonhwanwi could even fully leave someone’s mouth, the Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword flashed with a chilling brilliance. Petals whirled around the blade as it tore open space itself.
Fwaaaat!
For an instant, a breathtaking scene unfolded, as if a storm of flower petals were sweeping down upon them.
But as always, that beauty produced only a dreadful result.
“Aaaaaaaagh!”
“Aaaagh! Aaaagh!”
The scattered sword qi pierced countless bodies of those who stood in front. The strike had come down before they had even properly raised their guard, leaving them no time to display any real skill.
Blood sprayed in every direction, and severed limbs shot high into the air.
And that sight burned itself into the eyes of the still-dazed Ice Palace disciples.
The lingering crimson sword qi shaped like plum blossoms, mixed with fountains of blood.
To those watching, it brought forth a feeling of wonder and something stranger than wonder—something they had never felt before.
Then.
Taaat.
Chung Myung did not even glance at the scene he had created. He simply kept surging forward.
Blood sprayed down from the geyser that had burst into the sky, soaking his entire body, but he still didn’t blink.
The opening strike of battle had to be faster and more ferocious than the enemy expected, every single time.
One sword.
With a single sword strike, Chung Myung seized complete control of the battlefield and lunged at the retreating figures like a hawk diving on its prey.
“W-wait—”
Thud!
The blade ruthlessly jammed into the mouth of the man who had been about to shout something.
Chung Myung’s sword, coldly taking another life, moved with no warmth at all—only clean, merciless precision.
Fwaat! Fwaat! Fwaat!
Three heads flew into the air at once.
As they watched blood geyser up from the places where necks had been, terror and shock washed over the Ice Palace disciples like a tidal wave.
They had swords too, and had spent their lives learning martial arts without pause.
But they had never experienced a battle like this. The last large-scale fight they had witnessed had been when they lost the palace lord without so much as landing a hand on the swarming Demonic Sect.
Which meant none of them had ever seen, in broad daylight, the heads of the people standing in front of them cut off as though they were toys.
A steel heart.
An unshakable mind.
Everyone spoke of them over and over.
But that only meant one thing: no one found them easy to achieve. If they were easy, no one would need to keep emphasizing them.
Facing, for the first time in their lives, the cold ruthlessness and brutality of the battlefield, the so-called unwavering mind they had only memorized in theory was ripped apart in an instant.
Soaked in red blood, Chung Myung bared his white teeth and shoved his sword without mercy into the throats of those who tried to stop him. The blade punched through a neck and half burst out the other side, taking the head with it as though it had been torn free.
His sword never rested for a second. It plunged straight into the side of someone who had frozen in terror at the sight before him, splitting the man’s waist clean in two.
The white training ground of the North Sea Ice Palace was dyed red in an instant. It was a beautiful and horrifying sight, as though red flowers were blooming one after another across a snowfield.
“R-r-retreat!”
“Damn it! Don’t retreat! What are you doing!”
“There are only a few of them! Don’t panic and deal with them calmly!”
“Move, you bastards!”
Chaos spread at once.
Those who faced Chung Myung charging straight at them forgot the swords they had learned, losing the courage that had only just begun to rise. Surrendering to the instinct to survive, they staggered backward in panic, forgetting what they had even been doing.
But those behind them could not retreat.
As the distance between them shrank, the formation they had painstakingly arranged and maintained fell apart in the blink of an eye. The commanders screamed themselves hoarse, but no one caught in the chaos could hear a thing.
Watching that scene, Chung Myung’s eyes gleamed.
Pathetic little brats.
Peace had made them soft; they didn’t even know what war was, and yet they were trying to stop him?
How ridiculous.
Duel?
One-on-one combat?
That wasn’t Chung Myung’s specialty.
The place where he could live most fiercely was the battlefield, where life and death were exchanged with every breath—the world where he could drive his blade into an enemy’s throat without a moment’s hesitation.
Those who had grown complacent inside the warm greenhouse of a sect and never truly risked their lives against an enemy would never be able to handle him. Their worlds were different from the start. No matter how many of them there were, people who didn’t even know how to dominate a battlefield were no match for him.
Everyone backed away from Chung Myung with pale faces, as though they were looking at a monster.
Back away?
Against me?
Chung Myung bared his teeth.
At the very least, when facing him, retreat was never going to be the answer.
The tip of his sword trembled, and Maehwageomgi began to scatter like petals on the wind.
At the sudden storm of petals, the Ice Palace warriors widened their eyes and reflexively swung their swords, instinctively throwing out palm strikes as well.
But the swirling petals were far too many to count. And they were far too helpless to block them all.
Fwoooosh!
The petal-shaped sword qi swept across the front line.
A truly cruel sight of beauty.
The sword qi of Mount Hua, long scorned even by the righteous sects during the war against the Demonic Sect, now displayed its true value in the distant lands of the North Sea.
Before those pierced by the sword qi had even fully fallen, Chung Myung’s foot hit the ground again. There was no reason to give the enemy time to recover from the shock and reorganize their ranks.
Chung Myung, surging toward the enemy and radiating a chilling killing intent, looked exactly like a demon from hell.
“Keugh!”
Baek Cheon grit his teeth and kicked off the ground.
It was hard enough just keeping up.
That damn bastard gave no thought at all to the people trailing behind him. Honestly, just following at his pace was already a burden.
Damn it.
No matter how much he tried to close the gap, that cursed distance didn’t shrink at all.
Up ahead, Chung Myung’s sword flashed again and blood sprayed into the air.
Baek Cheon almost lost himself in the sight before him.
Had he ever seen anything so cruel and horrifying in his life?
But he bit his lip hard enough to make it split and drove himself forward after Chung Myung. He couldn’t let that blood be worn by that bastard alone.
That back was saying it all.
Don’t fall behind. Keep up with me. Follow me with everything you’ve got.
“Haaah!”
Grinding his teeth, Baek Cheon ran like mad and barely managed to catch up. Without delay, he threw himself forward and drove his sword into the chest of an Ice Palace disciple swinging at Chung Myung.
Crack.
The feel of the blade tearing through flesh and severing bone.
The clearest sense of death ran along the sword and into his fingertips.
This wasn’t the first time he had killed someone, but the sensation still refused to become familiar.
And yet he couldn’t hesitate. If he did, then someone else would have to shoulder even more deaths in his place.
Swish!
“Aaaagh!”
As if sharing the same thought, Yu I-seol on the opposite side was staring at the enemy with terrifying eyes as she cut another throat cleanly and sent it flying.
So much blood had soaked her that every movement sent droplets flying from her black-and-red-drenched training clothes. Even so, her eyes did not waver in the slightest.
But in that moment, Baek Cheon saw it: the faint trembling at the corner of Yu I-seol’s mouth.
“Aaaagh!”
“Damn it!”
Behind him came Jo Gul and Yoon Jong’s shouts. Then Dang Soso’s stifled groan followed.
Everyone was desperate.
Still, they’re keeping up. You damn bastards…
Then it happened.
Chung Myung, who had just sent a sword strike forward, straightened his body—and then suddenly seemed to collapse and vanish from the spot.
“What?”
Where?
“Up! He’s above us, Sasuk!”
What?
Baek Cheon’s head snapped upward so fast it nearly wrenched his neck. And sure enough, there was Chung Myung, leaping high into the blue North Sea sky.
…
For a moment, Baek Cheon stared blankly at the sight, completely speechless.
Having launched himself into the air in an instant, Chung Myung descended with a speed far beyond what his leap had suggested.
Kwaaaang!
As a result, the warriors at the rear who had not understood the situation at all were struck by a bolt out of the blue. Chung Myung, having jumped straight into the middle of the enemy, swept his sword horizontally and cut them down in a single pass.
“Aaaagh!”
Heart-wrenching screams rang out across the battlefield.
That damn bastard…!
Baek Cheon cursed inwardly and sent Maehwageomgi at the Ice Palace swordsman blocking his way.
Fight in step with one another?
Shoulder to shoulder, supporting each other?
Those were concepts Chung Myung didn’t believe in.
To Chung Myung, fighting together meant driving one another to the limit, pulling out every last drop of strength until everyone faced the edge of their own endurance—not having the strong compensate for the weak.
In fact, that bastard was shouting at his back.
He was telling them to follow with the resolve to die if necessary.
“Like hell I can’t, you damn bastard!”
Baek Cheon roared, his eyes bloodshot, and charged forward.
At the same time, he began sweeping the enemy away with a sword thick with killing intent, a sword he had never once shown before.
“Sasuk!”
Swish!
At that instant, someone who had rushed at his side with the intention of striking was pierced by Yoon Jong’s sword and fell. But Baek Cheon didn’t even look that way. He focused only on the enemy in front of him and kept charging.
His stomach was boiling. Hot blood seemed to coat even his sword.
But then—
Chilling.
The instant he felt every hair on his body stand on end, Baek Cheon flinched and halted his sword.
The reason was immediately clear.
From within the layers of Ice Palace disciples blocking him off, Chung Myung was staring at him. With eyes colder than ice.
…
As though doused with cold water, Baek Cheon steadied himself and gritted his teeth.
“Don’t get excited!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Cool your head and keep your stance low! Getting worked up won’t make you stronger!”
“Yes, sir!”
It was advice he was giving himself as much as anyone else.
Baek Cheon tightened his grip on the sword and lowered his center of gravity.
Only then did Chung Myung’s chilling stare disappear.
That bastard…
He had been watching him even while fighting in the middle of the enemy ranks.
“That’s a little harsh, you bastard.”
Baek Cheon shouted as he swung his sword with renewed force.
“Keep up!”
“Yes, sir!”
Chung Myung, having taken his eyes off Baek Cheon, looked around with expressionless eyes.
“Stop them! He’s only one man! Stick to him like leeches, even if you have to bite his damn pant legs!”
“We outnumber them by a lot! Don’t be afraid, you idiots!”
“Are you Ice Palace warriors or what!”
Voices shouting encouragement and abuse rang out from everywhere.
Whether those voices had any effect, or whether it was simply because Chung Myung’s sword had briefly paused, the people surrounding him began edging forward despite their fear.
But at the sight, Chung Myung didn’t tense up. He snorted instead.
“This is why brats are worthless.”
They’d all rush in just because he drew their attention.
“Do you idiots know something?”
“…”
“We’re not the only ones here.”
The ones who heard that flinched and glanced around.
“That old man may be naive, but he isn’t stupid.”
And then.
“Kill them all!”
“Ooooooooooh!”
“Waaaaaah!”
From the flank of the utterly broken formation, the North Sea warriors led by Yeo Sa-hon charged in with frightening momentum.
Those who had finally been given proper justification were more than invigorated by the Mount Hua disciples’ performance. There was no need to explain how high their morale had risen.
“D-damn it! Over there!”
The Ice Palace warriors were all thrown into confusion and at a loss.
If the Mount Hua disciples had not already burrowed into the center of their formation, this kind of attack would not have been a major issue.
But they did not understand at all what it meant for a formation to collapse in a group battle.
This was not a duel. It was not even a one-on-one life-and-death match. It was war, plain and simple.
For those who failed to understand that difference, victory did not exist.
“This is the price of failing to fight when you should have, and choosing false comfort instead.”
Chung Myung’s gaze traveled past the people blocking him and toward the man behind them.
Toward the one wrapped head to toe in pure white fur.
Seeing Seol Cheon-sang’s bleached expression, Chung Myung bared his teeth in a pale smile.
“Your turn now.”
With a sharp flick of his sword, Chung Myung unleashed a fierce killing aura toward the Ice Palace warriors who had completely frozen in place.