The False Moon Evil (3)
"That's impossible!"
Watching eight signal flares streak across the night sky, the constable reeled in shock.
That there might be more than one of these murderers had never once been confirmed.
When we examined the traces, it was clearly the work of a single man. How in the world did it come to this?
When the yamen first began investigating the killer, they had considered the possibility of multiple culprits. The man's range of activity had been absurdly wide—far more plausible that several people were moving about than that one man alone was responsible.
But before long we concluded it was the work of a single person.
Part of that was because every eyewitness description matched the same appearance. The decisive factor, however, lay in the traces left on the corpses themselves.
Among the countless bodies the killer left behind, only one man's traces were ever found.
Even when people practiced the same martial arts, each left behind minute personal habits. And every corpse the authorities had examined bore the marks of the exact same habits.
That was why they had judged him a lone actor all this time.
To think that judgment was wrong…
This was no longer the problem of a single madman with formidable martial arts running amok. It meant there was an organization backing the killer—an organization that held the great masters of the orthodox martial world, and even the government itself, in contempt.
It was never going to be an easy revenge, but for things to swell this large…
By now the other teams running the bait operation would be in chaos as well. The plan to lure the killer with bait had twisted around and was now closing around their own throats.
I heard that if a situation arose that one team couldn't handle alone, we were to join the nearest team…
The constable's gaze shifted toward the Taoist of the Zhongnan Sect and the killer. In the darkness, sword-light catching the moonlight flashed again and again. To eyes that had learned nothing more than a third-rate cultivation method, the exchange was impossible to follow. He could only dimly grasp that the killer was pressing the attack and that the Zhongnan Taoist was holding him off.
The moment the Zhongnan Taoist fell, the killer would turn on the constables. Better, then, to aid the Taoist than to flee—that offered the greater chance of survival.
I can't jump into the fight directly, but I can create an opening by drawing his attention.
The constable scooped up a loose stone. His companions, seeing the motion, understood at once and did the same. They fixed their eyes on the battle between Cheonhwa of Zhongnan and the killer called Fake Wol-ak. The instant the killer began to gather himself for a major technique—
"Now!"
At the signal the constables hurled their stones as one. All three struck true, yet the killer did not so much as flinch. The black wind coiled about his body simply brushed the stones aside.
At the sudden barrage the killer's gaze snapped toward the constables. Cheonhwa did not miss that infinitesimal gap. Sword-wind wrapped around the wooden blade, shoving the sword forward in a violent surge of speed. A jade-colored trajectory carved through the darkness and brushed past the killer.
The killer's head parted from his shoulders and rolled across the ground. A single fleeting opening had decided the match.
"Well done, Taoist."
"…"
Cheonhwa gave no reply. Instead he lifted his head, fixed the constables with a murderous glare, and then—without warning—charged straight at them.
"Hiiiek?!"
At their ally's sudden turn the constables screamed and shrank back. A dull impact rang out in the dark—the sound of Cheonhwa intercepting a stealth attack that had been racing toward them.
The constables whipped their heads toward the noise and their eyes went round with horror. The very killer Cheonhwa had just felled was standing right behind them.
"W-what in the world is going on?"
They looked from the corpse to the figure that had appeared at their backs. The body still lay where it had fallen, yet the second killer was unmistakably real.
Only then did understanding dawn.
Another killer!
Whether he had finished off another team and come here, or whether there were more than eight of them, no one could say. One thing alone was certain.
I never felt him approach at all.
Had Cheonhwa not intervened, they would have crossed the Yellow Springs without ever knowing how they died. Cold sweat beaded on the constables' brows.
If the killers decide to hide in earnest, even bait becomes meaningless.
Only Taoist Cheonhwa among them could sense the killers' concealment. Should more appear, the rest of them would be helpless. They had steeled themselves to die for revenge, yet now they were not even proper bait—only obstacles in the way.
"We join the other teams first. I'll take the lead—follow me!"
Cheonhwa drove the killer back with a single exchange and shouted to the constables. Until they knew how many enemies there were, splitting their numbers was too dangerous. The first-class martial artists capable of fighting them needed to combine their strength.
Trusting Cheonhwa, the constables ran toward the nearest signal flare still burning in the sky.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Endless impacts rang out—the sound of an invisible struggle between those who fled and the one who refused to let them go. With every clash their hearts lurched and curses tore from their lips, yet the constables' feet never stopped. The moment their pace lagged and they fell behind the group, the killer's blade would surely find them.
Faster—just a little faster!
To escape the danger, they poured every last ounce of strength into racing through the dark.
While shielding the constables and pressing on to join the others, Cheonhwa felt something wrong.
Why do these bastards only come at us one at a time?
If they had numbers, the natural move would be to strike the rear of an enemy already locked in combat. Yet strangely, the killers never attacked with more than a single man—as though only one of them was permitted to show himself at any given moment.
I had my suspicions, but this confirms it. These things aren't sane.
Anyone with a functioning mind would never waste manpower this way. They did not assess the situation and act of their own will; they moved according to fixed rules, like living puppets.
If my guess is right, linking up will cut our losses.
Cheonhwa hurried the rendezvous. Before long his hearing, sharpened by the Six Harmony Sensory Path, picked up the distant sounds of battle. Moments later Iryeop's figure appeared in the darkness, locked in combat with a killer.
Cheonhwa sent a sword-wind from afar to aid him. The killer reacted with startling agility and slipped the blast—only to fail to evade Iryeop's following killing stroke and lose his life.
"Taoist Cheonhwa, are you unharmed?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I'll explain while we move. For now, let's join the others."
"With things as they are, the original plan is useless. I'll follow your lead."
As they ran, Cheonhwa shared the rule he had discovered.
"You're saying that within a certain radius only one of them can appear?"
"It sounds unbelievable, but it's true. Right now only a single killer is attacking us, isn't it?"
Even as he answered, Cheonhwa deflected a charging killer's strike; Iryeop immediately unfurled his sword art and cut the man down. Having disposed of yet another killer as smoothly as flowing water, the group never broke stride.
"Just as Taoist Cheonhwa said. Such bizarre behavior… I'm starting to wonder whether these are even the same killers we've been hunting."
Iryeop's complicated feelings showed plainly on his face. To think that the murderer they had pursued all the way from Gansu Province belonged to a group this unnatural…
"Regardless, once we know how they operate, the countermeasure is simple."
"Reunite the scattered teams and reduce the number that can appear at once."
"Exactly. After that we use our numerical advantage to crush them one by one."
Cheonhwa led them toward the remaining six signal flares. They successfully linked up with Yeonhwa and Jeokhwa, as well as the other martial artists of the Kongtong Sect.
Not without losses. Unexpected ambushes by the killers had already claimed lives.
Cheonhwa studied the constables' faces. Naturally, none looked bright. Steeling oneself for one's own death was one thing; accepting a comrade's death was another. Yet there was no room to grieve.
Through the Six Harmony Sensory Path Cheonhwa surveyed the killers. Five presences lurked in the darkness, melted into the night, hungrily watching them. Counting those already slain and those still assaulting other teams, there had to be at least twenty.
This is an entirely different pattern from before.
Until now it had been enough to eliminate a single recipient of demonic arts. This time they faced an entire group that had learned those arts.
It's only thanks to that strange restriction binding them that our losses aren't worse.
What purpose drove the killers to raise this chaos he could not yet know. For the moment, eliminating them was the priority.
The gathered party immediately formed a formation. Cheonhwa and the other first-class martial artists stood in a rough circle; inside it they placed the constables so the killers could not reach them.
From here on it's a long fight.
Every person present remained on high alert. In the cover of night the killers could erupt from any direction at any moment.
Then the assaults began.
Cheonhwa coordinated with Jeokhwa and Yeonhwa. He and Yeonhwa each sensed the killers' approaches in their own ways and blocked them; Jeokhwa immediately launched the pursuit. It was only a three-person Heavenly Sword Formation, yet more than enough to handle killers who came one at a time.
While the Taoists of Zhongnan answered as one, the Taoists of Kongtong fought individually. Their killing intent was so dense that, without knowing their affiliation, one might easily have mistaken the techniques for unorthodox arts as they carved through the killers. Continuous sword strokes sealed the enemy's movement; the instant a gap appeared, sword speed exploded and a flash of light flickered.
Through the Six Harmony Sensory Path Cheonhwa grasped how the Kongtong martial artists fought.
So those are Kongtong's Soul-Chasing Art and Life-Seizing Art.
Within the Kongtong Sect existed eight training halls—the Eight Ancestral Gates—each teaching a different style of martial arts. Though the Soul-Chasing Gate's Soul-Chasing Art and the Life-Seizing Gate's Life-Seizing Art both embodied the principle of speed, their textures were utterly distinct. The former specialized in relentless successive strikes that drove an opponent into a corner; the latter sought one-strike kills through extreme velocity.
The killing intent is almost too thick—but that is exactly why they feel so reassuring as allies.
They lost all sense of time as they frantically met the endless waves of killers. By the time more than forty corpses littered the ground, the assaults abruptly ceased.
"…"
Everyone present fell silent and scanned their surroundings. No one could be certain they had truly finished every last killer. The enemy's ability to erase their presence was outstanding; they might simply have paused the offensive to lure the defenders into lowering their guard.
Then a human presence approached—footsteps that made no attempt to hide, unlike the killers. Walking through the bright moonlight, the figure revealed himself.
A man in shabby clothes stained with blood, an antique treasured sword at his waist. He tossed something he had been dragging onto the ground. Looking closer, they saw it was a string of killers' heads—more than fifty at a glance.
A thought flashed through every mind.
Could the reason the killers stopped attacking be…
Because this man had cut down every single one that still existed?
The idea was absurd, yet impossible to dismiss. He had taken that many heads alone, and not one of them had even sensed his presence. That alone proved he was no ordinary martial artist.
At last the man spoke into the silence.
"I came because I heard there were those imitating this humble one… yet it seems other guests were already here."
A leisurely tone utterly at odds with the blood-soaked, horrific scene. He idly toyed with the hilt of the treasured sword at his waist, openly displaying regret.
Someone, as if entranced, murmured the name.
"Wol-ak."
At that single word the man smiled faintly.
It was the unexpected visit of a Super Expert who occupied one of the seats among the Four Great Evils.