Picking Up the Famous Sword
My role was to draw their attention. It was the most dangerous job, the one everyone avoided, but I took it willingly since I had my own reasons.
Lately, my skills had been improving rapidly, and I wanted to rack up as much real combat experience as possible to sharpen myself further.
I drew my sword as I approached the village outskirts.
"You yellow-scarved thieves over there! Come out and face me!!"
I bellowed to pull their focus, and a few Yellow Turbans reacted.
"Hah. Look at that guy."
The ones at the entrance charged out.
"Hah!! You bastard! Got some guts!! Shoot him!!"
The one who looked like their leader swung his sword wildly in the air, and arrows came flying.
I'd expected the archers. I ducked behind a nearby rock. Hugging the ground tight, I was completely hidden.
Thwoosh!! Thunk! Thud!
Arrows ricocheted off the rock or embedded in the dirt nearby.
They had no way to pick me off from range.
"Damn it!! Forget it!! Go crush him!!" "Waaargh!!"
I heard the Yellow Turbans' footsteps pounding closer.
Just as planned.
I peeked out and saw a bunch of them spreading out wide as they rushed me.
This was perfect. The archers couldn't shoot without hitting their own. Using the charging Yellow Turbans as shields would neutralize the bowmen.
I sprang up, sword ready, stance set.
Feeling sharp today.
Their incoming strikes were crystal clear. It was like their attacks lined up in sequence, timestamped in my mind.
I parried the first ones, then cut down one at a time.
Slash.
Calmly slicing from the farthest, I broke free of their encirclement and reset my guard.
"Quick little shit."
One Yellow Turban twisted at the waist, stabbing wildly.
Clang.
I deflected it and took his head as his balance crumpled.
Then I yanked my blade free and finished the one who'd halted beside me. Three down in a flash.
"…."
They hesitated, stunned, not rushing in recklessly.
That let me seize the initiative.
"That all you got?"
I closed on the loudmouth from before, swinging hard.
He blocked on reflex, but soon his hands and feet tangled in panic.
Slash.
I severed his head, and the rest dropped their weapons, fleeing.
I mopped up the stragglers and headed deeper into the village.
I worried about more archers inside, but Gong Geo's crew had already slipped in and cut them down.
"Enemy attack!!" "Aaaagh!!"
Gong Geo's gang had pulled off a flawless ambush, carving through the Yellow Turbans.
I left the village proper to Gong Geo's Willow Tree Brotherhood and pushed on to finish the rest inside.
Even in this Yellow Turban-held hamlet, there was something like a camp in the back.
One Yellow Turban emerged from a tent, clicking his tongue.
He was built big, clad in imperial-style armor with just a yellow scarf tied on.
His eyes were different—sharp, seasoned.
I was sure. Not some common thief. Probably a deserter who'd joined the Yellow Turbans. That's what I figured.
Every move screamed soldier. Not a bandit who'd just looted the armor. He had to be the boss around here.
"You worthless scum. They broke through even this?"
He spat, drawing the sword at his hip.
"Kyaaaagh!"
The air thickened with impending violence when a half-naked woman bolted from the tent behind him, scrambling away.
"Sorry to interrupt your fun."
I eyed him steadily, sword in hand.
"If you knew, why'd you interfere, you pest?"
He hocked a loogie and raised his blade.
Shing.
But his sword caught my eye.
It gleamed with a frosty blue light, like hoarfrost on the blade. Unusual—no ordinary sword shimmered like that. At first I thought it was actual ice, but it was the blade's pattern, swirling like snowflakes etched in steel.
That looks insanely sharp.
The edge was so keen it hurt to look at, flashing under the midday sun.
Nothing like it in all the blades I'd seen.
A true famous sword.
I didn't know the name, but I knew quality when I saw it. Why did a minor Yellow Turban leader have something like this?
"Die!!!"
He lunged with a massive overhead swing.
Chiiiing!!!
A heavy, sweeping strike, full commitment.
Imperial army sword style.
Definitely ex-imperial.
After the big wind-up push, he followed with quick thrusts suited for melee chaos.
Ching!
I deflected them one by one without issue, but something else was wrong.
Grind.
Every clash with that blue blade chipped my sword's edge. Mine was already beat to hell, low durability from abuse, and now it was dulling fast against his razor edge.
Should be the same steel.
His was far superior. Mine took the damage every time.
No choice. Minimize clashes, end it quick in close quarters.
I waited for his confident thrust, eyes locked, then gambled.
Timing his max backswing, I charged in full tilt. His blade versus mine—a race to the throat. First to land wins.
"Hah. Fool."
He smirked as I closed the gap uninvited, bringing his sword down hard.
One of us dies here.
And it wouldn't be me.
Whish!
His blade grazed my ear, inches from my shoulder, but I drove mine into his neck with all my weight, shoving his body like a tackle to escape the arc.
Crash.
I pinned him, sword lodged in his thick neck.
Clang.
The struggle snapped my blade clean off in the wound.
This era's ironworking.
Iron here was mostly crap. Just degrees of shitty.
"Guh… hack."
He flailed once, staring in disbelief, foaming blood.
Couldn't make out the words clearly through the blood, but I got the gist.
"Deserting… was my mistake…."
With that, the Yellow Turban leader breathed his last.
I pried the sword from his death grip.
Click.
My face reflected in the icy blue blade, like a frozen winter river.
The moment I gripped it, I knew. Best sword I'd ever handled.
Time to test it.
Convenient target nearby—a straw dummy. Probably for training his bandits in imperial drills.
Whiiish—!!!!
I swung full force at it.
Thud.
Didn't even try hard, and it split clean in two, scattering.
Insane cutting power and durability. No chips or stress on the edge after biting through thick wood.
In this ancient era, that was god-tier. Balancing sharpness and toughness was no joke with their tech.
Mine now.
I'd earned this.
Seemed durable enough for the long haul, so I named it.
Hansu.
Cold Water. Fit the imagery perfectly. Not bad.
Other options: Supreme Sword, Moon-Slaying Heaven-Piercer, Destruction Blade. Too tryhard, too clichéd. Restrained elegance won out. Hansu had a nice ring, thanks to my luck too.
I sheathed it and headed down. The fight was wrapping up.
Gong Geo and his crew had wiped the inner Yellow Turbans, piling up gear and loot for divvying.
I tossed the leader's armor and pricey kit nearby.
Huge haul. A group big enough to hold a village had deep pockets.
"Hahaha!!! Nothing beats a big score like this!!"
Gong Geo guffawed, eyeing the spoils with glee.
"Swordmaster Hyun! Saw you!! Trading blows with their boss back there!"
Chun Bong's eyes sparkled my way.
"Ah, snagged a nice blade too, huh? That leader's?" "Yeah. It is."
They tensed a bit at that. Swordsmen get funny about weapons.
Wouldn't be the first time mercs turned on each other over steel.
"Hahaha! Suits you perfect!" "Good swords find good hands."
But Gong Geo's lot just laughed it off, congratulating me.
Good guys.
Felt it these past days, but they were solid. Top 1% of ronin scum.
——
As we packed the loot to head out, cottage doors creaked open, villagers spilling out.
"Thank you!! Good sirs!!" "Seeing those bastards cut down felt so good!"
The pillaged folk poured out their gratitude.
"Nah, no biggie. Just doing what needed doing. Heh."
Gong Geo scratched his head sheepishly. The others too.
"…."
Didn't feel bad. Helping and getting thanks hits different. Humans aren't pure good, but not rotten to the core either. We like virtue, cherish it easy. Malice just overshadows it.
——-
Back at camp, things got busy.
Turning in today's haul, haggling over weapons and armor—exhausting work.
Gong Geo handling it made it easier.
Generous pay for mercs. Hands and heart heavy with coin. Felt great.
Maybe splurge on meat tonight.
Pork, not chicken.
Speaking of, big scores breed bigger ones.
Yeongcheon County Seat was buzzing—Huangfu Song's army had arrived.
Troop numbers swelled, everyone chattering about him.
Soon after his main force, Cao Cao's detachment rolled in too.
"Finally… General Huangfu Song and Cao Mengde's army…!"
Gong Geo trembled, fists clenched. Prime chance for the Willow Tree Brotherhood's big break.
I planned to show at the Changshe battle too. Battle pay's sweet.
And they pay in goods here.
Not cash—rations. Money devalued daily, but rice? Gold. Food value climbed. Getting it direct was huge. Huangfu Song and Cao Cao offered insane rates. A few days' work could coast you a month. Showed their resolve to crush Pa Jae no matter what.
Musing on the postings, someone hailed me friendly.
"Swordmaster Hyun!! Fancy meeting like this."
Light but booming tenor—I knew it.
Cao Cao, in full armor, waved as he approached.
Crossing paths again. Figured maybe on the battlefield, not downtown like this.