Let Them Die Like Vermin (4)
Kakak!
Guyu Swordmaster’s face twisted grotesquely.
Faaah!
“Khk!”
A bolt of sword qi, swift as lightning, sliced past right beside his face. The skin on his jaw split open, leaving a long red gash from his chin to beneath his cheek.
Damn it!
This was not some half-baked swordsmanship. It was a sword strike only someone who had swung a sword over and over again until the blade felt like an extension of their own hand could unleash — the kind of technique a sword demon could use. He could not even tell whether the sword was in the grip of that hand or had sprouted from the fingertips themselves.
And how was he supposed to accept the fact that a woman who looked far younger than him could unleash sword qi strong enough to make his own blade seem useless?
“You little—!”
As more and more wounds opened across his body, age seemed to surge up across Guyu Swordmaster’s face as well.
No matter who that damn woman was, the fact remained that she was forcing him back and carving blood lines across his body.
He roared and swept his sword sideways. The ferocious sword qi that burst forth scythed through the front like water unleashed from a broken dam.
“Eat this, you—”
Flitter-flutter!
But at that very moment, Guyu Swordmaster’s eyes flew wide open.
Before him, crimson petals suddenly bloomed like clouds and occupied every path his sword qi tried to take. The sword qi, unable to fully extend, slammed into the petals and was shoved back hard.
“Ghk!”
The internal energy that had failed to advance surged backward and turned his insides inside out. Fresh blood bubbled up and spilled from his throat.
Damn it!
This could not be happening.
He was Guyu Swordmaster. He had been famous throughout the world since before that little bitch had even been in her mother’s womb. And now he was being driven back in a sword-to-sword clash and coughing up blood?
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
“You rotten—!”
Guyu Swordmaster pulled his sword slightly back. In an instant, seven streaks of black light shot outward.
A terrifyingly swift sword art, one that could make the victim die without even realizing it and tumble into the underworld.
This was the moment when his unique secret technique, the Twelve Thunderbolts of Death, the sword art that had given him the name Guyu Swordmaster, was unleashed.
But—
Tap!
The moment the sword was released, Dang Soso sprang back with a kick from the ground. Guyu Swordmaster’s terrifyingly fast blade surged forward, only to stop one inch before Dang Soso’s throat and be drawn back.
What…?
Guyu Swordmaster’s eyes bulged.
Coincidence? Or…?
No way.
That young woman could not possibly have seen his sword technique before. Then was she saying she had instantly predicted exactly how far the sword would reach the first time she ever saw it and retreated by that exact distance?
Was that even possible? In the middle of a battle this brutal?
No — even if it were, a single miscalculation would have meant her throat being pierced, wouldn’t it? What kind of nerve let her stop there?
Is she out of her mind?
At that moment.
As Guyu Swordmaster pulled his sword back, his eyes met Dang Soso’s emotionless gaze in midair.
A chill ran down his spine.
Those eyes, devoid of even the slightest feeling, were watching him like a snake watching its prey, missing not the tiniest movement.
“You… you…!”
Grinding his teeth, Guyu Swordmaster shouted at the top of his lungs.
He could not admit that for a split second, he had felt a sliver of dread from the eyes of a mere brat. And he certainly could not admit that this young swordswoman was studying him carefully in the middle of a fight.
“Dieeee!”
The moment the furious shout burst from his mouth, twelve streaks of black lightning shot from his sword.
Stronger, faster.
The sword strike packed with every ounce of power he possessed became twelve bolts of thunder, all of them tearing straight toward Dang Soso.
Back away? Useless.
He would not be fooled by the same trick twice. If she tried the same thing again, he would pierce her throat on the spot—
Then it happened.
Tap!
Dang Soso spun on the spot and leaped lightly upward. The sword qi pouring toward her body collided with her own blade as she made a short, sharp swing.
In the next instant, Dang Soso used the recoil to fling herself even higher.
Fool.
That was the worst possible move. In midair, the body could not move freely.
I’ll skewer you like meat on a spit!
Feeling a savage thrill, he prepared to unleash Twelve Thunderbolts of Death once more toward Dang Soso as she rose through the air.
But—
Flitter-flutter!
With a brief cutting whistle like a dragonfly’s wings, red sword qi bloomed from Dang Soso’s blade tip.
One blossom, then another, until dozens had opened.
Guyu Swordmaster stared blankly at the sight, forgetting even that he had been about to unleash his own sword qi.
The riotous crimson flowers spread wide enough to hide Dang Soso’s body as well. The vast sky that had filled his vision was now covered entirely in red blossoms.
And then—
Whooosh!
The blooming flowers suddenly scattered all at once and began to rain down on the world like a storm.
A rain of red flowers.
“Ah…”
At that moment, one word rose to the surface of Guyu Swordmaster’s mind.
“Mancheon….”
The ultimate technique symbolizing the Sichuan Dang Family.
A legendary martial art handed down through the Dang Family, said to make it seem as though flower rain fell across the whole sky when fully unleashed.
“Mancheon Hwa-woo.”
Amid the flower rain pouring down with nowhere to run, he caught a glimpse of the vivid green tassel tied to Dang Soso’s sword tip. A pained voice leaked from Guyu Swordmaster’s throat.
“Dang Family….”
The illusory flower rain swept across his entire body with merciless brilliance. The sky itself had been buried beneath petals.
“…Damn it.”
That was the last word Guyu Swordmaster ever left in this world.
“Aaaagh!”
A scream tore through the air.
“T-that…!”
Wi Lip-san’s mouth fell open of its own accord.
The swordsmen of Mount Hua, though they were facing enemies who seemed to outnumber them by three to one, were instead hammering them back with relentless force. The ones driven down by Mount Hua’s swords were tangling into one another and being squeezed deeper and deeper into a corner.
“Good heavens.”
One-sided was the only word for it.
And that utterly one-sided battlefield left Wi Lip-san feeling more bewildered than delighted.
He knew better than anyone how skilled they were, since he had experienced it firsthand.
Those people had been so frightening when he faced them directly that calling them reapers would not have been an exaggeration. And yet those same people could be pushed back and brought down so helplessly?
Wi Lip-san suddenly looked around.
Sure enough, the other sect leaders of Xi'an were all staring at the unbelievable spectacle with equally stunned expressions.
“M-Mount Hua is…”
“That much…?”
Well, of course.
Even Wi Lip-san, who considered himself one of the people who understood Mount Hua’s strength best, could hardly contain his astonishment at the sight before him. How much more must it be for everyone else?
Faaah!
The red sword qi flung by Mount Hua’s swordsmen soared into the heavens and stitched the sky with color.
“Uh…”
Someone’s hesitant voice drifted out.
“Shouldn’t we help…?”
That drew snorts of laughter from here and there.
“Over there?”
“W-well, still…”
“With our skill, we’d be nothing but a hindrance, not help. Assistance has to be on the same level, you know.”
“...That’s true enough.”
Once again, everyone simply stared, dazed, at Mount Hua’s swordsmen. A few people swallowed dryly. Watching those swords paint the air like a fantasy left them no choice but to marvel in silence.
I really thought they couldn’t be compared to Jongnam no matter what.
Mount Hua’s fundamental limitation had always seemed clear.
Its disciples were still young, with little experience.
So even if no one knew what might happen decades down the road, the sect could not possibly be expected to keep pace with Jongnam, whose first-generation disciples and elders were all still standing strong right now.
But the spectacle unfolding before their eyes was more than enough to shatter that assumption to pieces.
And then—
“Aaaaghhh!”
After confirming that Guyu Swordmaster was screaming amidst the red petals, the sect leaders of Xi'an clenched their fists without even realizing it.
Talking about the future seems meaningless. They could stand against Jongnam right now.
I never imagined Mount Hua would become this strong…
An emotion too deep for words, a stirring pride, surged through their chests. Those whom even they had once looked down on had grown into something dazzling beyond compare.
At that moment, Wi Lip-san limped forward.
“Sect Leader….”
Hyun Jong, who had been standing with his hands clasped behind his back and observing the situation, slowly turned to face him.
“Sect Leader Wi. Are you all right?”
“...Yes. I am fine, Sect Leader.”
“We were too late. Please forgive us.”
“How could you say that? I am only grateful that you came, Sect Leader.”
Hyun Jong gently patted Wi Lip-san’s shoulder with warm eyes.
“You’ve endured much.”
For a moment, emotions welled up in Wi Lip-san’s chest, but then he glanced back toward the battlefield. It felt strangely inappropriate to be exchanging pleasantries while such a ferocious battle raged on.
But that was not his fault. Hyun Jong’s leisurely composure, as if he had no worries at all despite his disciples fighting, had somehow eased even his own tension.
After a moment’s hesitation, Wi Lip-san asked, “Will they be all right?”
“Will who?”
“Even if they have seized the initiative, those people are not easy opponents. If there is anything we can do to help…”
“It will be fine.”
“But—”
“It will be fine.”
Hyun Jong shook his head with a faint smile.
“Those children aren’t the sort who would run into trouble at this level. So just trust them and watch.”
“Ah….”
Wi Lip-san seemed to have more to say, but after looking at Hyun Jong’s calm face, he could only nod.
He could feel unwavering trust in the disciples there.
The Hyun Jong of the past had been the sort of person who could not hide even the slightest unease when his disciples fought an enemy they were fully capable of handling. But now, even though his disciples were facing formidable foes, he did not show a trace of anxiety.
Had Hyun Jong changed? Or…?
“Is it strange?”
“Ah….”
Perhaps sensing what was on Wi Lip-san’s mind, Hyun Jong asked with a small laugh. Startled, Wi Lip-san hurriedly lowered his head.
“Forgive me. This disciple finds it difficult to grasp the deeper meaning of Sect Leader’s words….”
“I suppose it comes naturally.”
“...Pardon?”
Instead of answering immediately, Hyun Jong simply looked at the battlefield with a quiet gaze.
Plum Blossom Sword Qi was painting the field with beauty, but what was visible on the surface could not possibly be all there was. Within that space, life and death must be colliding in dangerous, fearsome struggle.
But—
“Anyone who has watched what those children have gone through would feel the same. To fret over them in a situation like this would be to disrespect them, and to disrespect all the time they have endured.”
At those words, Wi Lip-san turned back toward the battlefield with a dazed expression.
Just what…
There was absolute conviction in Hyun Jong’s voice. And because of that, Wi Lip-san could only wonder what kind of training these disciples had gone through all this time.
“There is nothing to worry about.”
Then Hyun Jong’s calm voice cut through his ears.
“Mount Hua is strong.”
For a moment, Wi Lip-san could not speak. An indescribable feeling churned inside his chest and rose sharply.
How long had he waited to hear those words?
The words he had thought he might never hear in his lifetime had finally come from Hyun Jong’s lips.
“Sect Leader….”
The disciples of Mount Hua were formidable beyond measure.
And Mount Hua’s Sect Leader stood before them, every bit as solemn and steadfast.
Anyone who bore the name of Mount Hua, whether a disciple of the main sect or an affiliated branch, could not help but feel the same thing.
“And—”
“...Yes?”
Then Hyun Jong pointed with his chin at one person.
“Seeing that fellow still holding himself back when he would already be throwing a tantrum if he thought there was even a little danger means it’s still far from dangerous.”
Where he pointed stood a lone back.
A figure with his arms crossed, watching from the rear.
Just looking at that long hair tied up high and carelessly with a band made it impossible not to know who it was.
Chung Myung Dojang.
Looking at that steadfast back with not a single trace of looseness in it, Wi Lip-san unconsciously bit down on his lip hard.