Annihilation Battle: Upstream of the Valley of Sin
Upper reaches of the Valley of Sin.
The position of First Young Master Yeon So-hyeon.
Constable Jang Sam was exhausted.
It had been an impossibly long night. First the punitive campaign against the Valley of Sin, then this battle that had followed without a proper rest—both had drained his stamina to the dregs. Inside that monstrous barrier of the Demonic Cult, his mental strength had hit bottom as well.
A brutal night.
Yet now he stood tall, every shred of that fatigue forgotten, staring down into the valley.
“Waaaaaaaaah—!”
The roar of the Dark House forces trapped in the valley was deafening. Packed thickly into the lower reaches, they were preparing their last stand in every alley, desperate to escape the valley alive. The War Department warriors of the Sword Family, silhouetted against the rising sun in the east, closed on them at a speed that raised goosebumps.
To meet the charge head-on, the foremost Dark House troops leveled a forest of spearheads that gleamed a cold, vicious blue.
Then the clash—
Constable Jang Sam’s eyes flew wide enough to tear.
There was none of the thunderous collision he had expected.
“Guaaah!”
“Keok…!”
Sword light—visible even from this distance—flashed from every direction. Leather and flesh simply parted; only screams filled the air.
The War Department warriors of the Sword Family carved through the Dark House lines as easily as chopsticks slicing soft tofu, punching straight, clean paths through the enemy formation.
It was a sight that bordered on the unreal.
“Uwaaaaah—!”
In Jang Sam’s vision, one Dark House officer survived that first shocking impact—possible only because he was a martial artist. But his luck ended there. The second Sword Family warrior who brushed past him severed his arm. The third tore open his belly. The fourth took his head clean off.
The officer’s body toppled like a felled tree and vanished among the countless corpses.
From main road to main road, from alley to alley—wherever the War Department warriors arrived, battle lines shattered and collapsed.
“Waaaaaaaah!”
Jang Sam found himself thrusting his spear skyward and roaring without realizing it. Watching the bastards who had tormented them all night get torn to pieces, he simply could not keep the cheer inside.
“Yes!”
“Kill them all!”
He was far from alone. The heavy-armor unit of the House of Mercy, still bandaged from their wounds; those still struggling free of the mental shock of the Demonic Cult’s barrier; the maid unit, the Yellow Tiger Four Heroes, the Emei Sect warrior-monks; even the staff officers and strategists of the command post—every last one of them had poured out to watch and cheer.
“Behold!”
A clear, ringing boy’s voice cut through the roar.
“Our enemies are crumbling!”
Every gaze turned toward him one by one. The temporary commander of this position, Fourth Young Master of the Sword Family—Yeon Bi.
“The night that tormented us is ending!”
He too must have suffered under the Demonic Cult’s barrier, yet standing atop the command-post roof, Fourth Young Master Yeon Bi’s bearing was flawless, his voice pure steel.
“Will you—will we—simply stand and watch our enemies fall?!”
The cry drew an answering roar from everyone around him.
“No!”
“We cannot merely watch!”
Even that fervent response was not enough. Yeon Bi raised a clenched fist and shouted again.
“Will we merely stand by and watch the night that tormented us end like this?!”
At that voice, at that question, Constable Jang Sam’s mind went blank and white.
“No!”
Exhausted stamina, shattered mental strength, every swirling confusion—none of it existed in anyone’s head in this moment.
“No!”
Among the near-berserk shouts rising from every direction was, unmistakably, Constable Jang Sam’s own voice. Among the weapons thrust high enough to pierce the sky was, unmistakably, the spear he had raised.
“Our enemies die by our own hands!”
Fourth Young Master Yeon Bi’s voice climbed higher still.
“Our battle ends by our own hands!”
Every eye, every ear fixed on him.
“All units—charge!”
Where the stamina came from, no one knew. How they still had the strength to roar like this, no one knew.
“Uooooooooh!”
Spear in hand, Constable Jang Sam sprinted down the valley, down the alleys, his fellow constables at his side.
“Move! Run!”
At the very front of the constables raced their commander, Bak Po-kwae.
“Show those bastards what the constables of Luoyang can do!”
The bandage around the head wound he had taken from the bombardment streamed behind him as he led the charge. Filling the place left vacant when Bak Po-kwae had been knocked unconscious and carried off, a junior constable ran in the rear ranks.
“After seeing that Destructive Mountain Scripture earlier, no one can just sit still.”
Figures vaulted from rooftop to rooftop, flashing over the heads of the charging constables like arrows.
“What the hell? We do all the hard work and the Young Master gets all the real fun by himself?”
“We can’t let him steal every last delicious scrap!”
They were the War Advisory Unit, direct subordinates of Elder Yeom. Trading banter, they surged ahead.
“We’re going first!”
“Catch up at your leisure!”
The First Young Master’s martial artists—the Yellow Tiger Four Heroes, the Emei warrior-monks, and the young heroes of the Spring of Luoyang—shot past the constables as though flying.
Yet the ones who reached the enemy’s rear first were none of them.
“In the name of our Master!”
The maid unit of Wongak Pavilion, racing full-tilt down the treacherous slope aboard armored carriages.
“Kill every last one of them!”
At the shout of Hyang, captain of the maid unit, the armored carriages slammed into the enemy rear without slowing in the slightest.
Unlike the War Department warriors’ earlier clash, this time a colossal impact shook the entire valley.
KWAJIK, KWAJIJIK!
The hooves of warhorses clad in thick barding crushed enemies without mercy. The massive bodies of the armored carriages swept men aside like debris. Even after pulping dozens in an instant, the carriages’ momentum never flagged; they drove straight into the heart of the enemy formation.
“Run! Do not stop!”
From inside a carriage rang the sharp, tireless voice of Gwak Nopin, the Sleeping Dragon of the South.
“Drive in as if you mean to split them in a single stroke!”
Under ordinary circumstances she would have fretted about the column stalling and bogging down in the enemy’s midst. Today Gwak Nopin entertained no such worry; she only urged them on faster.
Because—
“Where do you think you’re looking?!”
Hard on the heels of the carriages’ brutal charge, the warriors of the War Advisory Unit smashed into the enemy rear.
“Kill them all!”
Immediately after them poured the martial artists under the First Young Master.
“Uooooooooh!”
Then the tightly bunched constables arrived.
“Lady Yak So-yu fights with us!”
The merciless charge of the House of Mercy’s heavy-armor unit swept over everything.
“Guaaack!”
Soaring morale, a downhill charge, and—above all—a strike not against the front but against the rear. In a single breath the enemy formation completely collapsed.
“R-run!”
“Retreat! Retreat!”
Even Dark House officers flung away their weapons and fled.
“Fuck, retreat where?!”
The officers ran without knowing where to go. Those who followed them ran without knowing either—they simply ran.
“Enemies on every side…!”
Ahead: the War Department warriors of the Sword Family. Behind: the First Young Master’s forces. Caught between them like grain in a mill, the Dark House rank-and-file could offer no coherent resistance.
“Loose!”
Giant iron bolts from the carriages’ repeating crossbows stitched enemies together. What flashed in the air were allied weapons; what fell to the ground were enemy lives.
“Where do you think you’re running?!”
Constable Jang Sam’s thrust spear skewered a fleeing enemy through the back.
“Keheok…!”
The scream that escaped the man’s lips was nothing. It vanished beneath the vast roar that Jang Sam and every ally around him were pouring out.
Even in that chaos, some still managed to find a direction and flee—the landing force of the pirate mercenaries, the Fresh Blood Fleet.
“Captain! This way!”
At his lieutenant’s call, the master of the Fresh Blood Fleet—the Scourge of the Four Seas—shouted back.
“Behind us! They’re still on our heels!”
The lieutenant spun and fired his long musket straight behind them.
Bang—!
The shot shattered against solid stone with a roar, but their pursuers had already vanished like ghosts behind cover.
“Fuck!”
While a knot of pirate mercenaries laid down covering fire, the rest sprinted down the narrow alley.
“Shit, fuck!”
A curse slipped from the Scourge of the Four Seas as he ran.
Came all the way to Luoyang and didn’t even rack up a proper achievement—just sold every scrap of dignity…!
In truth they had done their part. Naval gunfire support had been ample. The landing force had never been able to shine because they kept losing the initiative, yet they had still managed some results, however unsatisfying. It was nowhere near enough.
Damn those Second Young Master’s bastards…!
He remembered what they had said when they asked Sapaecheon for help: just lend a little hand and everything would run smoothly; they had prepared that thoroughly.
Load of horseshit…!
The First Young Master’s side had prepared more than twice as much. The strength they had stockpiled far exceeded every estimate. And that strength was in no way inferior to the battle-hardened forces of the Gangnam region.
Fucking Luoyang! Fucking Luoyang Sword Family!
If the Gangnam region ruled by Sapaecheon was a burning hell, then Luoyang—which had looked so soft and peaceful on the surface—was a bottomless abyss.
One pirate mercenary, still reloading with practiced hands while running, took a flying dagger through the throat. Watching his subordinate clutch the wound and fountain blood, the Scourge of the Four Seas twisted his face into a demon’s mask.
“Fire…!”
Another volley crashed out, but the throwers of the hidden weapons had already vanished again.
“This fucking…!”
He wanted nothing more than to turn and cut the throats of every one of those mayfly bastards. But he could not.
From behind, the lieutenant shouted.
“Just a little farther—!”
He must have meant the small landing stage they had prepared as a retreat point.
“Kehok—!”
Instead the lieutenant was yanked into the air by a chain and his neck snapped in an instant; he dangled limply. It happened so fast even the Scourge of the Four Seas, whose senses were razor-sharp, had no chance to react.
“Fucking head-collector bastard!”
His Hainan-style long blade left its scabbard and struck the chain in the same motion, but the sickle at the chain’s end had already taken the lieutenant’s head.
“Keuk—!”
“Keheok!”
The moment his own steps faltered, more flying weapons claimed the lives of the men behind him. Muskets spat fire again; the enemies remained invisible.
“Fuck, fuck!”
In these cramped, twisting alleys the advantage of firearms was useless. Nor could he afford to waste precious escape time trading blows with Tang Baek, the head-collector of the Tea Horse Road.
“The landing stage is right ahead!”
Abandoning every last subordinate, the Scourge of the Four Seas poured everything into his movement technique. Vaulting a wall, he left his men far behind and burst through the alleys.
“Survive on your own and meet me later!”
A truly piratical decision. At least it was fortunate that his fleet, having abandoned meaningless bombardment, had already withdrawn to the far side. The moment he and any survivors boarded, they could leave Luoyang behind.
That was his hope.
But that hope proved empty.
What the Scourge of the Four Seas saw when he reached the small landing stage was—
“F-fuck…”
—his entire fleet blazing on the far side of the Yellow River. The fleet that was the sum of his life’s work burned black, belching thick smoke.
His long blade hung limp at his side. He stared at the sight with vacant eyes. Then a voice reached his ear, blatantly complaining.
“Ha, honestly.”
Someone’s head suddenly broke the surface of the river; the man hauled himself onto the landing stage.
“You…?!”
“Really, ha. I’m so disgusted I might just quit being a gatekeeper…”
Still grumbling, the middle-aged man roughly shook the water from his body and gave the Scourge of the Four Seas a smile brimming with murderous intent.
“Still—dirty pirate bastards all have to die. Don’t you agree?”
Unlike their thoroughly soaked master, five swords sang a bone-chilling song, their elegant blades flashing in the morning sunlight.
How could a pirate of Sapaecheon not know that name? How could he forget their greatest nightmare—the man who had butchered and butchered pirates without mercy in the past?
“…T-Tal-myeong-gwi-geom?”
“Yeah. It’s me, you fucker.”
The Scourge of the Four Seas stumbled backward, utterly unlike his fearsome reputation.
“Th-that’s impossible. I heard you were dead or retired…”
As he retreated, still denying reality, the clink of chains reached his ears.
“…!”
In front: Tal-myeong-gwi-geom.
Behind: Tang Baek.
For a pirate who had crawled up onto the wrong shore, there was nowhere left to run.