Chapter 66
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Coastal Merchant Guild
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The rain had stopped, but the weather remained oppressively overcast.
A day perfect for clearing away corpses, if one exaggerated a bit.
'A lot of them, rotting away.'
Seo Mun-ha kicked at the ground.
Fifty, at least.
Squelch!
Muddy footsteps followed as he soon sensed a crowd approaching.
Not everyone from the inn.
Their intent was clear. Following the youth who had swung the dagger first, four more joined the front line.
"Die!"
Their movements were clean and efficient—first-rate, without a doubt.
The only flaw was that the blinded-by-greed leader failed to leverage their numerical advantage properly.
Clang!
Seo Mun-ha casually deflected the dagger.
"Huh?!"
Then he effortlessly tossed the youth aside.
Grab.
He snatched the now-ownerless dagger from the air and hurled it back.
Thud.
The middle-aged man next to step up felt a foreign object pierce his brow and promptly rolled his eyes back, showing the whites.
Thump.
Unable to resist the momentum, his unconscious body collapsed with a noisy crash.
They had been wary of the sword at his waist, but caught off-guard by the unexpected tactic, the others left an opening that his crude longsword exploited.
Shing.
A small cut was all it took.
Having exposed their vital points right in front of him, they tumbled away pathetically, their high price tags meaningless.
'The ones the demon cultists hired, huh.'
Strictly speaking, it probably wasn't the will of the entire Sun-Moon Cult.
These brutish thugs were far from subtle schemers.
Even if they were holding back, the dirty tricks were left to the lowly underlings.
Shake, shake.
The first youth to fall roughly shook off his daze and blew a sharp whistle.
Wheee!
Seo Mun-ha, who had been surveying the village, gave a short signal in response. The overlapping whistles roused the quiet village.
Splash!
Footprints splashed through puddles everywhere.
Clop-clop!
But hooves crossing those frantic steps approached even faster.
"Flying Dragon!"
Seo Mun-ha mounted the charging steed in one fluid motion.
It had been ages since he'd last done this, but his practiced movements showed it wasn't his first rodeo. He patted the horse's flank once, then naturally urged it out of the village.
'Sorry about this.'
He hadn't planned to treat it like a warhorse.
The innocent Flying Dragon galloped across the cooled earth with cold fury.
Da-da-da!
Mimicking the Blood-Faced Asura's tactics, he changed venues to avoid harming the inn or innocent villagers.
"Damn it! Chase him!"
These stab-first-ask-later types were murder experts.
The main difference from black warriors was their lack of qualms about harming powerless commoners—and their willingness to use anything ruthlessly for their goals. That was the way of ronin.
They made a living from filthy deeds while operating half in the light, so results were paramount.
To achieve those, they spared no means or methods.
Thus, while black fighters were still technically martial artists, "ronin" was a catch-all for fixers in various shady trades.
These ones specialized in killing, counterparts to assassins like the two sides of a coin.
Merchants and craftsmen thriving in wartime chaos.
"Stop—!"
And these ronin, inseparable from that world, naturally had their own martial prowess.
Seo Mun-ha sneered at the pursuers flanking him.
Flying Dragon could cover five hundred li in a day, even if not a thousand.
Their movement arts were no joke to keep pace with such a steed, but he gripped the reins and casually swung his remaining arm.
Footwork and movement arts differed.
Simply put, footwork moved the body, while movement arts sustained speed over long distances.
They could blend with other techniques depending on use, but lacked footwork's seamless integration and were inefficient besides.
Whoosh!
Deploy movement art, strike. The motion broke more awkwardly than a mere pause.
Clang!
Seo Mun-ha, by contrast, was far freer.
Even with one arm, entrusting half his body to Flying Dragon made his qi flow smoother. His sword strikes flashed like spear thrusts.
Flash!
Easily parrying a blade, he cleaved the ronin overtaking Flying Dragon.
Pop!
A shallower grip than expected drew a flicker of surprise from him.
These men stood apart from the average ronin—peak experts.
'Three peaks... five.'
This level of force belonged to a group with some renown.
The lead ronin clung to the horse and rider.
A properly trained warhorse could resist blades piercing its thick hide and muscle, but Flying Dragon, barely weaned, was still a child.
Seo Mun-ha spared attention for strikes targeting the horse amid the thrill of their gallop. Flying Dragon, pride wounded, picked up speed as if offended.
From trot to charge.
Full sprint turned the ronin into specks behind them.
Yet Seo Mun-ha reined in instead.
Neigh!
The pursuit bait had drawn them right into an ambush blocking the path ahead.
"Watch for quicksword!"
"Target the horse first!"
A fairly organized encirclement closed in.
A rider's advantages were mobility and the impact of mass.
They led with that, but the visual terror and intimidation of a massive charging beast couldn't be ignored. Still, the bloodshot ronin hunting Seo Mun-ha met it head-on, heedless of their own safety.
"Argh!"
It was pure pandemonium.
Indiscriminate first-rate blades lost control, and the rampaging horse-and-rider sent them flying helplessly.
Slash!
If there was any progress amid the mounting mountain of corpses, it was Flying Dragon's slowing pace.
Clop...
Finally, the steed halted.
Seo Mun-ha dismounted smoothly and moved ahead, leaving Flying Dragon a few steps behind after a pat on the rear.
Clop.
An unnamed hill fell eerily silent.
"Good work."
Murderous ronin emerged along the slope one by one, their condition oddly pristine despite the large-scale melee.
Snort.
Unlike the weary, hungry ronin, Seo Mun-ha hadn't broken a sweat.
"Still a lot left."
He muttered idly while counting.
Wonder if he'd sleep easy tonight.
Too many to finish before sunset. Maybe he'd underestimated these Black Spirit blades he'd never even glimpsed, thanks to them.
'Won't make much difference.'
The Five Inscriptions Twelve Divine Arts of the Seo Mun Clan that he practiced.
His quicksword, long since perfected, wasn't about raw power.
It dominated spacing like a spear, forcing reactive moves on surprise assaults.
That's why his familiar blade effortlessly became quicksword.
"Power's plenty too."
Against these foes, Seo Mun-ha eyed the spread-out first-rate ronin, sticking to optimal plays.
Varied attire, diverse weapons.
Sabers, swords, spears, axes, wheels, bows and arrows...
Overkill for one man, yet no one relaxed.
Hoo.
Cleaving the parched air, an elderly man stepped forward.
"Incredible."
He sighed softly.
"I thought all the talk about Ghost Flash was overhyped."
His garb set him apart from the ronin.
"The world seriously underestimates you, doesn't it?"
His ornate robe screamed merchant, and as their employer, he was the client himself.
"How did you spot us?"
"Hm?"
"They call us the Ghost Slayer Squad for catching even ghosts. Seemed a perfect match, yet you saw through deceivers who fool spirits themselves. How?"
They had no margin for error.
Yet he posed casual questions to reset their formation.
As peak experts flanked him, the elder bided his time.
"A downpour washes away bloodstink. No awkwardness in their words or deeds."
Controlling killing intent was basic; without prior experience against the target, ronin were trickier than assassins.
"I'm familiar with it."
Their stealthy yet bold approach gave it away.
"Familiar? A famed clan young master?"
Surprised, the elder got a playful match from Seo Mun-ha.
"Old stains don't fade easy. No matter how well-hidden, that nasty whiff lingers."
Hard to put into words.
Their Ghost Slayer lives were steeped in others' blood, so their blade-sharp existence and mindset seeped from every pore.
One or two might slip by, but dozens reeking together inevitably stung the nose.
"Impressive..."
"Ghost Slayer Squad, was it? Never heard of you, so you raised them yourselves. Not some broker, so Coastal Merchant Guild?"
"Haha, you really know how to shock a man."
The guildmaster voiced honest admiration.
This junior's insight rivaled a veteran who'd roamed the jianghu for decades.
"Why?"
Using their scheme, Seo Mun-ha probed motives to clear his doubts.
"Why what?"
"All of it."
"Heh, greedy youth."
"I've heard of Coastal Merchant Guild. Stronger than most mid-tier sects, right?"
"Short and sweet."
Admirable guts?
Facing a cocky junior's bravado, the guildmaster answered freely.
"No worries. No tragic sob story to dull your blade. You don't seem the type anyway."
You're not that type.
In other words, he knew those types all too well.
"No way."
"Heh. Nice talking to a quick study. Yes, most young master vanishings are my handiwork. Even using tools, they're mine."
"..."
"You should've seen those high-and-mighty pups crawling and begging at rock bottom."
We'd get along, he hinted, extending a hand subtly.
"Grab a commoner first, then sect brothers, finally family and lovers. Guards' loyalty crumbles easy—looks complex, but simple. Quite enjoyable."
His drawn-out smile smacked of madness.
"Seo Mun Clan third young master might get it. Can't live like a mangy dog forever, pushed around."
Coastal Merchant Guild was a gem anyone would covet, yet losses between giant sects and officials had drained its wealth.
"I know. Once thought securing position would fix it."
But no one fully accepted them.
Years of neutrality bred risks from old scandals they shunned.
Jianghu and officials alike eyed only their hard-earned riches.
"Fair enough. I'd think the same in their shoes."
"So you chose the demon cult?"
"Why not receive our cult's grace yourself?"
Seo Mun-ha clicked his tongue.
"Think the demon cult's different?"
"It is."
"Generations of arts outvalue lives. Demon arts no exception—they won't hand those over."
No matter the price, nothing topped ascension manuals.
"All they'll give you is cheap demon arts even lowly cultists skip."
"Tch, what does a punk like you know?"
"I know your demon arts are failures. Look at them—lost their minds already."
Demons weren't inherently mad.
But practicing those arts steeped them deeper in demonic taint.
"Forgot why jianghu shuns demon arts?"
Once bloodlust turns you demonic, you'll rip apart your own family first.
That's the peril of demon arts, defying human and heavenly bonds.
Especially with half-baked failures—fate sealed.
Seo Mun-ha couldn't help but laugh.
No art absorbed every weapon; such convenience didn't exist.
"No point talking more."
The guildmaster grinned, eyes flashing red.
"Pay for overstepping and lecturing me."
Peak ronin flanked him unnoticed.
"Like that Mount Mosa Sect Daoist!"
Silent command given, ronin lunged simultaneously.
"Who?"
Seo Mun-ha's face darkened.