Chapter 212
Chapter 212
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Miscalculation and Desperation
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“Based on the testimony of Jegāl Min, who barely escaped the scene, the Beggars’ Union’s search has confirmed that Neung Un-bi was indeed there.”
“Hmm…”
“We have found the bodies of Yun An-ro, Shin Ye-rang, and Kim San. According to the search party… they have also recovered the bodies of over one hundred twenty martial artists from the Namgung and Jegāl families who were left at the scene.”
“And the Sword Saint?”
“The Sword Saint… has passed away. His body has been recovered and moved to a nearby sect.”
At his subordinate’s report, Jegāl Cheon-u leaned his head against his chair with a deep groan.
A report had already arrived stating that the Changrang fleet, which had moved north, had failed to find Neung Un-bi’s party.
Jegāl Cheong-in’s rash search of the fleet had only worsened their relationship with the Unorthodox Faction.
“Well, this is…”
Blinded by their objective, they had fallen for a simple trick.
“What should we do?”
“What should we do?”
“Sir?”
“Heh heh.”
Despite his subordinate’s bewildered question, Jegāl Cheon-u could only let out a hollow laugh.
It wasn't because the Sword Saint, his companion of many years, had died.
Nor was it because many martial artists from the Namgung and Jegāl families had lost their lives.
Wasn’t that simply the life of a martial artist?
From the moment they picked up a sword, their fate was all but sealed. As martial artists, they had to be prepared for a meaningless death.
The problem was the terrible sense of defeat he felt.
Until now, he had believed that nothing would ever deviate from his predictions.
Success or failure, everything was supposed to unfold within the parameters he had set. It had to happen on the board he had laid out.
But now, it had all gone terribly wrong.
The beginning was probably the Haehyeon Troupe.
Things started to get complicated when they appeared.
They were like bedbugs that had crept into his clothes. Tiny, yet they scurried about, causing endless trouble.
But one couldn't commit the folly of burning down the whole house just to catch a few bedbugs.
So he had let them be, and hadn’t they constantly picked at his wounds, causing him endless headaches?
He had thought, thankfully, that it was all over now…
That damn Neung Un-bi.
The already complicated situation had become a complete mess with his appearance.
The will of the Haehyeon Troupe had been passed on.
From Yun An-ro to Neung Un-bi…
However, he could no longer stand by and watch.
Yun An-ro was merely a bedbug and never posed a great threat, but Neung Un-bi was different. If that man were to return to the Demonic Cult and become its leader, it would create a massive problem for their organization.
Who knew what Yun An-ro had passed on to Neung Un-bi, and how?
“What of Neung Un-bi’s movements after that?”
“We have confirmed that his tracks lead to the desert.”
“The desert?”
“Yes.”
“And our response?”
“The Beggars’ Union has already reinforced their search parties and sent them into the desert. A portion of the martial artists who were blockading the border with the Demonic Cult have moved south to guard the routes connected to the desert.”
“Hmm…”
He was a clever one, indeed.
The desert was an incredibly dangerous place. No matter how skilled one’s martial arts were, without knowledge of the paths, one could wander aimlessly and die.
However, there was no better place to erase one’s tracks.
And a man like Neung Un-bi would not have chosen that place without a reason.
He knew the way.
Furthermore, just as he had done until now, he must have chosen the desert route because he was confident he could escape.
“Heh heh, well now. They say if you know your enemy and yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles… but I didn't know him at all.”
That was his greatest mistake.
He had not anticipated anything about Neung Un-bi.
That his strategic mind was unexpectedly brilliant, and that his martial arts were formidable enough to kill the Sword Saint.
And that he never imagined Neung Un-bi would rescue Yun An-ro.
But was Neung Un-bi, a man barely out of his teens, truly that capable?
“Could it be… Dam Un-cheon?”
Jegāl Cheon-u’s eyes narrowed.
He already knew, through his informant in the Demonic Cult, that Dam Un-cheon had publicly declared he would not interfere with Neung Un-bi’s surveillance mission.
But had he really meant it?
Would he truly throw his beloved, cherished disciple into the Central Plains and not care whether he lived or died?
Impossible. No, it only made sense if Dam Un-cheon was involved in this incident.
Looking back, it might have been Dam Un-cheon’s plan all along.
“Dam Un-cheon. Were you the real enemy all along?”
Jegāl Cheon-u’s hand gripped the armrest so tightly it seemed it would shatter.
Dam Un-cheon knew it too.
The reason the Demonic Cult had failed to conquer the Central Plains was not a lack of power, but because of his own secret relationship with the Yuk Family.
That must be why he chose Neung Un-bi. He was the only disciple who had no ties to the established powers within the cult.
“I see. This was your doing, Dam Un-cheon. All to reform the Demonic Cult…”
It occurred to him that perhaps this battle had been between him and Dam Un-cheon from the very beginning.
The man was clearly trying to weed out the traitors within the Demonic Cult who were colluding with them.
To only realize his intentions now…
“Heh heh, truly the Heavenly Demon. So you intend to shatter even my sky? But I haven't lost yet. Now that I know everything, I will launch a proper counterattack.”
*Grind.*
Jegāl Cheon-u ground his teeth and rose to his feet.
“Great Elder?”
“…?”
“What are your orders?”
Jegāl Cheon-u looked at his subordinate, who was awaiting his command, with an indifferent gaze.
What was there to do?
“What of the men who went north?”
“As soon as they realized the Changrang fleet was a decoy, they immediately moved to the northern border of Gansu. They will arrive in two days and join the blockade.”
“Then that’s that.”
“Sir?”
“They’ll manage on their own.”
Now that he had concluded Dam Un-cheon was involved, any further fighting was meaningless.
Neung Un-bi would surely succeed in his escape.
Therefore, his task from now on was to prepare for what would happen after the man returned to the Demonic Cult.
Leaving behind his bewildered subordinate, Jegāl Cheon-u rose and walked into the rear garden.
Of course, all his conclusions were nothing more than a delusion born from a terrible sense of defeat.
It was also a matter of pride.
If he was to be defeated, his pride dictated that the opponent be Dam Un-cheon rather than a youngster like Neung Un-bi. That pride had led him to such a conclusion.
And so, the martial world was swept into a new torrent.
No one dreamed that all these events had been set in motion by Cheok Wol-rin, who resided within Neung Un-bi’s body.
And no one could predict the consequences it would bring.
* * *
The long escape continued.
He had slain the Sword Saint, but he had not escaped the Orthodox Faction’s territory, nor had he broken through their encirclement. Neung Un-bi’s party was still walking a line between life and death.
His lungs burned as if they would tear, and his muscles had long since exhausted their strength and ceased to function.
Having barely reached the desert, the party was only able to find a hiding place after night had fallen deeply.
“Hah, hah…”
The sound of ragged breathing cut through the darkness from all around.
Not a single person in the group was unscathed.
They had long since become like gods of blood, drenched in their own blood and that of their enemies.
“My lord.”
“Hmm…”
Wang Cheon offered him a waterskin.
There was little water left, as they had fled in a hurry. Even that small amount was what Wang Cheon had saved for Neung Un-bi.
Taking the waterskin, Neung Un-bi glanced around and saw the warriors of the Dark Moon Squad turn their heads away.
They were enduring.
For his sake…
Everyone’s lips were parched and cracked, yet they were enduring their burning thirst simply because he was their lord.
Watching them, Neung Un-bi opened the waterskin and brought it to his lips. Then, he smiled and handed it back to Wang Cheon.
“My lord?”
Wang Cheon, his voice hoarse and cracked with confusion, soon furrowed his brow.
Exhausted as he was, how could he not gauge the weight of the waterskin?
Even after his lord had quenched his thirst, the weight had not changed at all. He had merely wet his lips.
“My lord.”
“There’s quite a lot of water. I’ve had enough.”
With those words, Neung Un-bi casually turned his head away. After a moment of hesitation, Wang Cheon did the same, bringing the waterskin to his lips before passing it to Ju Seung.
“Damn, there really is a lot of water.”
“…”
The waterskin was passed from Ju Seung to Pyeong Su, the first squad leader of the Dark Moon Squad.
Even after every member of the Dark Moon Squad had quenched their thirst—or rather, wet their lips—the weight of the waterskin remained almost the same.
“…There’s a lot of water.”
“What? Water?! There’s water left?”
The lighthearted mood created by the last squad member’s laugh was short-lived.
Hyang-i, who had gone to scout the area, returned with her eyes wide and snatched the waterskin.
“Hah, one sip? These bastards!”
Furious, Hyang-i drained the waterskin in a single gulp. As if that wasn't enough, she turned it upside down and licked every last drop clean.
Having finished off the water that had remained even after passing through the lips of thirty men, Hyang-i’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“You damn bastards! How could you do this to me? Weren't we family?! Huh?! You sons of bitches! You drank all the water yourselves and left me out!?”
“…”
Everyone stared with dazed eyes at the hysterically shouting Hyang-i.
*Because we’re like family… we’ll endure it.*
“I can forgive the others, but I never thought you’d do this, Third Young Master. We’ve been through life and death together, how could you leave me only a single sip of water!”
At her voice, thick with disappointment, Neung Un-bi sighed deeply and said.
“Hyang-i… you still drank the most.”
“What?”
“Even if that waterskin had been full, do you think any would be left after everyone took a sip?”
“Ah… hmm, that’s true.”
Holding the waterskin and gauging its volume, Hyang-i finally looked at Neung Un-bi and the Dark Moon Squad.
Not a single one of them looked as though their thirst had been quenched.
“Ahem! How’s your body?”
Embarrassed, Hyang-i cleared her throat and changed the subject.
What could they do?
They had to play along…
Still, thanks to her, they were able to laugh as they usually did, even in their hardship.
Neung Un-bi nonchalantly clenched his fist and said.
“I can manage, more or less.”
But those were just words; his internal state was not good.
The Supreme Tyrant’s Asura Art.
It was close to completion, but it was not yet complete.
It was a double-edged sword.
It had allowed him to kill the Sword Saint, but Neung Un-bi’s condition was steadily worsening. If not for the energy of the Demonic Spirit Divine Pill spreading through his meridians, he would have already fallen into qi deviation and burned away even his Primal Origin Qi.
“What about the surroundings?”
“It’s quiet. Now that night has fallen, they won’t be able to move recklessly.”
“Hmm…”
As Hyang-i said, continuing a pursuit in the desert at night was impossible. While one could navigate by the moon and stars, they had no way of finding Neung Un-bi’s party.
And wasn’t the timely wind erasing even the tracks in the sand?
“Did any of them light fires?”
“None.”
“Damn… what a shame.”
Neung Un-bi grimaced at Hyang-i’s words.
If their enemies had lit fires due to the rapidly dropping temperature, they would have been able to at least estimate their location, even if they couldn't move.
“What’s the plan now?”
“What do you mean?”
“The desert will end soon. And then we’ll face the Orthodox Faction’s blockade.”
“I know.”
“Will you be okay? It’s going to be much harder than anything we’ve been through so far.”
“…We’ll have to hope the heavens help us.”
“Damn it, as I thought.”
“As you thought?”
“Seeing you weave through the Orthodox Faction’s inescapable net, I thought you might have a plan.”
“Of course not. A net is different from a fortress wall.”
Hyang-i said nothing more at Neung Un-bi’s words. She, too, knew the gravity of the situation.
By now, the Orthodox martial artists who had gathered to blockade the Demonic Cult would surely be swarming the desert’s edge.
The final gate of their long escape would likely be like an impregnable fortress wall.
“I’ll think of something. We have to break through, no matter what.”
“Hmm…”
Hyang-i nodded at Neung Un-bi’s words, but her expression suddenly hardened and she whipped her head around.
And in that instant, Neung Un-bi’s senses also caught something.
Could it be pursuers?
“Wang Cheon!”
Neung Un-bi shouted as he drew his half-broken Flying Swallow Sword, and Wang Cheon, Ju Seung, and the rest of the Dark Moon Squad quickly formed a defensive line.
“…Wait!”
“What?”
Just as they prepared for an enemy attack, Hyang-i spoke, staring intently at one spot.
“It’s not… an enemy.”
“What do you mean?”
As everyone stared at her with confused expressions, someone suddenly emerged from the deep darkness.
It was a figure whose face was covered by a mask.