Chapter 70: Dark Clouds (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 70: Dark Clouds (1)
“Have you checked the East Gate?”
The man in black reached the main gate and addressed the man leaning against the wall. Twelve subordinates followed closely at his heels.
“Isn’t the Evil-Slaying Sword supposed to be in charge of that sector?” replied the man, who wore deer hide over a black tunic.
His mouth was unusually large for his face, and his voice was thick and heavy. Perhaps because of this, his boisterous laughter never felt out of place.
“I’m aware, but he hasn’t been seen for a while. I thought perhaps you, having some time to spare, might have taken a look around…”
“Do you still not know me? It is my ironclad rule never to move outside my designated zone.”
The man in the tunic frowned.
“You really are stifling. You should learn to relax on a day like this. The Unit Commander followed the Great Lord to the Banquet of Connection, and the Martial Commander has retired to his room. You could afford to take it easy…”
“If you don’t want to do it, just say so. I’ll handle it myself. Let’s go.”
Beoncheonjang, the Heaven Flipping Palm, cut the man off mid-sentence and led his subordinates toward the East Gate.
Watching him go, the man clicked his tongue.
“Like a river flowing day and night. There’s no stopping that fellow.”
A stream that flows ceaselessly—that was how people described him, for he rarely rested.
The man who had just spoken was Jang Gyeong, an action captain of the Black Snake Union. The man who had just passed was Beoncheonjang. These two were the experts who practically led the Black Snake Union.
*
“Wait a moment.”
Upon entering the East Gate, Beoncheonjang suddenly came to a halt.
Beyond the gate, two pavilions stood perpendicular to each other, one in front and one to the right, connected by a corridor running beneath them. The corridor was a covered walkway, an open space with only railings and pillars facing the garden.
As he passed through, Beoncheonjang sensed something strange.
Swish, swish, swish!
At his command, his twelve subordinates fanned out to scout the area. The precision with which they checked every direction proved they were well-trained.
Step.
Beoncheonjang moved forward cautiously. He had sensed a presence beneath the railing in the middle of the corridor. His posture naturally lowered as he approached.
Flinch.
After reaching a certain point, he crouched, his head moving slightly from side to side in the silence. Simultaneously, his hand moved toward the hilt of his sword. This time, he had definitely felt something.
Screeech.
He drew his sword so quietly that the sound of metal was almost inaudible. His gaze shifted toward the floorboards beneath his feet.
Sway.
Slash!
In an instant, Beoncheonjang thrust his sword downward. However, the blade did not penetrate fully. As he lunged, he peered beneath the railing and discovered men who appeared to be subordinates.
“What are you doing here?”
There were two of them, crouched in a space about shoulder-height beneath the floor.
The man who suddenly found Beoncheonjang’s blade at his throat did not answer. He simply stared at Beoncheonjang and the others with a dazed expression.
“I asked what you are doing here! Why are you wearing masks? And why are there only two of you? Where is the third?”
He fired off questions in rapid succession, but the two men remained silent, merely looking at each other with inscrutable eyes.
“You bastards… I asked what you were—”
“What is going on?”
A door at the far end of the corridor opened, and a voice boomed. Beoncheonjang quickly turned and bowed his head.
The man who stepped out onto the railing was the Great Lord, Hong Geom-baek.
“…It is Beoncheonjang, Great Lord.”
Seeing him appear without warning, Beoncheonjang lowered his head further.
“Did I not ask what is going on?”
“T-That is… I noticed there was no movement from the guards at the East Gate, so I came to investigate. In the process, I sensed a presence and discovered these men.”
Beoncheonjang was momentarily flustered. He felt self-conscious about causing a disturbance near the Great Lord’s quarters, especially since it wasn't his assigned area.
However, Hong Geom-baek spoke with a surprisingly benevolent expression.
“I ordered that. I told them to look around the garden for a moment to calm their minds.”
“Ah, is that so?”
“Indeed. I shall lecture them and send them on their way shortly, so please understand.”
“I understand.”
Though a hint of suspicion remained in Beoncheonjang’s eyes, he did not press further. Fearing he might be scolded for overstepping, he bowed.
“Then, please excuse me.”
He immediately turned back the way he came.
However.
“Ahem.”
After Beoncheonjang left, Hong Geom-baek’s expression shifted. He assumed a stern look that was uncharacteristic of his usual demeanor.
“I came looking just in case, and it’s a good thing I did. It would be troublesome for both of us if you were caught for something like that.”
The two men in black beneath the railing locked eyes and nodded.
“But I don’t see the third one. Where did he go?”
For a moment, the men in black were silent.
“Well, I suppose he has his own business.”
Fortunately, the crisis passed. Hong Geom-baek took his hand off the railing and turned away. Then, he smirked and waved his hand dismissively.
“About the woman you took… it would be troublesome for everyone if rumors started. I trust you will handle it properly on your end.”
With those words, he vanished from sight.
“You should have been more careful,” the man in black who had nearly had his throat slit said to his companion.
“I’m sorry, Brother Seok Myeong. I was distracted for a moment.”
It was Hyeok-jin in disguise.
“It’s alright. We were lucky. Fortunately, we weren’t caught.”
Seok Myeong, also in disguise, let out a sigh and turned his head to the left.
In the space beneath the corridor, which was lower than a man’s chest, about thirty people were holding their breath. They were all children, women, and frail elderly people who had been enslaved here.
“I will lead the way. Follow me quietly.”
Seok Myeong looked at them and took the lead once more.
*
There were approximately six martial artists loitering at the East Gate.
Two were talking face-to-face, three were standing guard in relaxed postures, and only one was scanning the surroundings with a serious gaze. Because they were inside the compound, only one person was looking inward; most were watching the exterior.
Though hidden by screens, twenty small tents were lined up beside them. It seemed the rank-and-file members lived in these quarters rather than inside the grand pavilions.
“I will give the signal, and then everyone must move together. I repeat, do not hesitate and do not make a sound.”
Seok Myeong spoke to an old man dressed in plain hemp cloth. The man, who called himself Old Man Hwang, had deep wrinkles covering his eyes from years of hardship, leaving him with a permanent squint. The old man nodded.
“Hyeok-jin.”
“Yes, Brother.”
“Someone might be watching or could follow us, so you take the rear. I need to buy more time.”
“Understood.”
Hyeok-jin moved to the very end of the line.
Rustle.
Seok Myeong lowered his posture and approached the East Gate, observing the gatehouse.
Is it just one?
A man caught Seok Myeong’s eye. He was atop the gatehouse, positioned at the very center, his eyes darting back and forth.
I have to finish this in one go.
Seok Myeong calculated the distance. It was five jang. There were five men to the left and right, and one at the very top.
I must take them all out simultaneously. If any noise leaks out, the Unorthodox scoundrels sleeping in the tents will wake up at once.
This was a critical moment. Judging by the enemies’ openings and movements, the ones chatting were hardly first-rate. If there was a threat, it would be the one at the top. However, since Seok Myeong couldn't sense any inner qi, he couldn't be certain.
If I hesitate, we are the ones who will suffer. I must cut off their breath in an instant.
Tremble.
Seok Myeong’s hand shook slightly. For nearly thirty years, he had devoted himself solely to training in the pure Taoist arts of his sect. He had never experienced the mud-slinging struggles of the Jianghu; he was like a refined orchid that had grown up without even a minor quarrel, let alone the experience of killing.
The only time he had taken a life was when a Demonic Person invaded Qingcheng. Even then, he had simply fought back without the conscious intent to kill; it had just ended that way.
If I cannot bring myself to shed blood, these innocent people will die.
He made a vow. Right now, he had to become a blood-demon. If he showed mercy, both he and the people he was trying to rescue would be in danger.
“Hooo!”
Seok Myeong steadied his breathing and moved into action.
*
Thud!
“Ack!”
“Gah!”
The men who had been chatting leisurely lost consciousness one by one. One was struck in the jaw and slumped against the wall, while another was hit in the solar plexus and collapsed forward.
A clean strike.
Having dealt with two in an instant, Seok Myeong immediately moved to take out the three above them.
“Ugh!”
He took advantage of the moment one man nodded off, striking the pressure points of the men beside him. Unaccustomed to killing, Seok Myeong chose to knock them unconscious by striking their fainting points.
Phew.
It wasn't that his heart had weakened. It was because using a sword would create noise, a flash of light, or the scent of blood.
Startle!
After taking down the last man, Seok Myeong quickly pressed himself against the wall and remained silent. He had felt an uncomfortable sensation from the man atop the gatehouse who was scanning all directions.
Tilt.
Fortunately, the man didn't seem to notice Seok Myeong’s movement and turned his gaze elsewhere after a moment.
He’s a tricky opponent.
A soft sigh escaped him. The man’s unwavering posture and his sharp, vigilant watch suggested he was no ordinary warrior.
Screeech.
In the end, Seok Myeong drew his sword. Unlike the others, this was an opponent he couldn't take down in one blow without using his blade.
I can't give him an opening.
There were two ways to prevent an enemy from screaming. First, kill them instantly. Second, prevent them from making a sound. If he couldn't guarantee an instant kill, he planned to pressure him so hard he wouldn't even have the chance to open his mouth.
Seok Myeong lowered his stance. He glared at the man and approached inch by inch. His palms were sweaty. It wasn't just the weight of the people's lives that made him nervous; the tension of his first intentional kill weighed heavily on his chest.
Swish. Swish.
Just as the sound of Seok Myeong’s sword tip swaying became quieter than his footsteps—
Zip! Zip! Zip!
Moving with explosive speed, Seok Myeong kicked off one wall and then the other in succession, leaping high into the air.
“…?!”
The man in black’s gaze darted left, then right, before he hurriedly looked up in a panic.
“You—!”
The sound of the kicks had distracted the guard, and his gaze had reflexively snapped to the opposite side. Caught in a simple feint, he discovered Seok Myeong suspended in the air far too late.
Whoosh.
He hurriedly raised his sword to block a downward strike. His movements were certainly different from the average warrior. Even with his attention divided, he had reacted with speed to Seok Myeong falling toward his head.
But he didn't know that would be his last act.
Shook!
Instead of swinging his sword, Seok Myeong plunged it into the ground at the man’s feet.
Thwack!
Simultaneously, he let go of the sword and drove his fist into the man’s abdomen. It was a strike combining external and internal power that his Martial Uncle, Song Yeo-guk, had taught him.
“Guh-hak!”
The moment the deep vibration spread from Seok Myeong’s fingertips, the man’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He dropped his sword, stumbled back a few steps, and collapsed.
Blood poured not only from his nose and mouth but also from his eyes and ears. The impact to his abdomen had likely turned his internal organs and even his brain into mush.
Seok Myeong looked at him with a trace of sorrow before turning away. He had no time to linger.
“This way.”
Seok Myeong stepped into a corner, opened the gate, and signaled to those watching him.
“Hurry. We don’t have much time.”
At that, Hyeok-jin began to hurry the group along. Old Man Hwang gestured frantically, guiding them.
“Phew, we’re safe now.”
Seeing the group escape without casualties, Seok Myeong’s expression brightened. It was a relief. If a fight had broken out and spiraled out of control, everyone would have been in danger.
“Let’s get out of here ourselves now,” Seok Myeong said as he climbed down from the gatehouse. The tension finally began to bleed away.
But Hyeok-jin wasn't smiling. Instead, he was staring at Seok Myeong with a hardened expression.
“What is it?” Seok Myeong asked, his suspicion rising.
A slightly trembling voice leaked from Hyeok-jin’s lips.
“Who is that man standing outside? He isn't one of the people from here, is he?”
“Who are you talking about?”
When Seok Myeong turned his head, he saw the women and children huddled in front of the exit, too terrified to move forward.
Standing before them was a man he had never seen before.
He wore an outfit of mixed black and gray, with thick tiger skin and heavy iron chains wrapped around both wrists. He was a man with a short neck, a small face, and a gaze that was intensely sharp.