Chapter 83
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Same Bed, Different Dreams
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Jiangsu Province was generally a humid place.
Frequent rains and scorching sunlight, along with the moisture, led the people of Jiangsu to favor simple, light clothing. In contrast, a large group ascended the mountain dressed in thick garments, as if proudly advertising themselves as out-of-towners.
Dozens of them even wore masks, their stifling appearance screaming suspicion from a mile away.
"Found him?"
Peng Ga-ho, a stalwart from the distant Hebei Peng Clan and deputy leader of Yi Lip's group, scanned one of the men.
Their faces were rigidly set, betraying no inner thoughts, but they had temporarily joined hands for a common goal.
"Not yet."
A one-eyed man, exuding an aura rivaling Peng Ga-ho's, had removed his mask.
Peng Ga-ho's expectant expression instantly soured into disappointment.
His eyes then gleamed with curiosity as he pointed at the man's mask.
"Blood?"
The crumpled cloth was stained with red bloodstains in several spots.
"Ran into a bit of trouble."
The one-eyed man brushed it off casually, forcing a smile to change the subject.
"What kind of trouble?"
Peng Ga-ho pressed relentlessly, casually lowering his own mask.
"Shouldn't we both avoid drawing attention?"
Peng Ga-ho scolded him—what was the point of masks otherwise?
"That's why."
"Hm?"
"I showed my face. My mistake, I'll own it."
There were no martial clans or sects in the area.
Judging by his pristine condition, it didn't seem like he'd fought any real battles.
This man, who had committed mass murder, had harmed ordinary folk.
'What a lightweight.'
Peng Ga-ho was dumbfounded.
The Thorn Flying Unit, composed of branch members from the Hebei Peng Clan, and its leader Peng Ga-ho—they were warriors who thrived in the shadows by nature.
As the saying went, the brighter the light, the deeper the shadows.
They backed the Peng Clan with all manner of villainy, and their notoriety had etched their existence into the public's hazy awareness.
Yet even they were fundamentally martial artists of the jianghu.
"Tch."
Those entrenched in the unorthodox paths didn't trifle with commoners so lightly.
'Where the hell did this Young Master Yi dig these guys up?'
Their mysterious ally clearly operated on a fundamentally different wavelength.
"Anyway, be more careful."
"Of course, haha."
Though riding the same boat, they clashed on every little thing.
'Not a white path mindset.'
In this ceaseless friction, with nothing to show for it, Peng Ga-ho's patience was wearing thin.
'Once we catch that guy, I'll have a proper talk.'
Unlike the white path, who spared the weak out of principle, the demonic outsiders preyed on them precisely because they were weak.
Narrowing his eyes, he reviewed their past actions, eager now to find their target swiftly.
"Don't worry too much. He's definitely passing through this area."
The man maintained his humble posture without losing his smile.
"That's the third time you've said that."
Peng Ga-ho sneered.
"If we don't nab him before he crosses the Yangtze, we'll be the next ones wiped out."
Dozens of warriors had pursued their target from Shandong.
The infuriated quarry, ensnared by a plot of slander, was none other than the Seo Mun Clan's Third Young Master.
Estimated at the Third Realm, with wild rumors of even higher—Peng Ga-ho, refusing to entertain failure, saw him merely as a wastrel who hadn't fully erased his past disgrace, hoping only to cleanse his clan's shame.
"I know."
The one-eyed man's face turned gravely resolute.
That made four times. They'd doggedly tracked him yet failed every ambush.
Unintended as it was, the dispersed Hyun Cheon Unit members had sown chaos as interference.
"He noticed the pursuit and cut ties, making things trickier—which is why we're going all out like this."
"Good, as long as you get it."
Peng Ga-ho rose and dusted himself off.
"Double the scouts."
The warriors trailing the two men began donning their drab masks one by one.
"We have to catch him."
The long-awaited moment mercifully arrived before they crossed the Yangtze.
Um Pung shook his head vigorously, rallying his spirits with a noisy grunt.
"Wake the squad."
Seo Mun-ha stepped forward, senses on high alert, leaving curt orders.
Sight, hearing, all five senses, plus his qi sense.
The uninvited guests brimmed with killing intent, their urgent footsteps unmistakably converging on this cramped campsite.
"Young Master."
"Enemies?"
Gu Chil and Yang Jeong emerged from their tents, followed by the prepared squad members filing out one after another.
Thud.
Seo Mun-ha grabbed one man's arm, as if to restrain him.
"No fires."
It was too early for dawn.
With limbs feeling lighter, and no time to wax poetic, Seo Gyeom faced Seo Mun-ha with puzzled eyes.
Whether killing or sparing, they needed light to see, right?
"It'd just give away our position."
Having gauged their numbers, Seo Mun-ha gestured.
"No good for holing up anyway. Let's move first."
In the hazy darkness.
"Back to the previous clearing?"
Um Pung asked.
"They're coming up from there."
"Then..."
Seo Mun-ha took the lead.
No time for leisurely explanations—the gist sufficed: some group was coming.
"Any guesses on who?"
"Who knows."
Seo Mun-ha had always drawn plenty of admirers.
Beggars' Clan, maybe? Or masked folk.
Hard to pinpoint, but he could sort through his few grudges and enmities. Right or wrong would reveal itself soon enough.
"Gotta confirm the target first."
Whether they were after the Seo Mun Clan or him personally.
Under the bright moonlight flooding the forest, Seo Mun-ha greeted his unscheduled guests.
Tat-tat-tat—!
They burst into view, fanning out in a wide semicircle.
"Looks like I was right."
Seo Mun-ha smirked.
Uniform masks, utterly nondescript.
"Seo Mun-ha, that you?"
A frontliner pointed him out.
"You lot sure hate answering questions."
Their target seemed to be him, these interlopers hiding their identities as deeply as their dark masks.
"I'll take him."
A burly man with a commanding presence drew his sword.
An unusual greatsword.
Its blade area rivaled a cleaver more than a sword, and his grip wasn't the standard upright sword hold.
Another man bellowed next.
"Kill them all!"
The masked figures, straddling shadows and light, kicked off the ground in unison.
Swish.
Seo Mun-ha adjusted his sword grip and issued a low command.
"Gu Chil, Yang Jeong—engage separately. Squad, form up and hold."
Um Pung exchanged glances with Seo Mun-ha.
"Be careful, Young Master."
Another man, who had directed the fiends, was his opponent.
"Don't panic. They're not unbeatable."
"Got it."
No sooner had the reply ended than two shadows crossed paths.
Whoosh—!
The towering warrior brushed past Um Pung, swinging his greatsword.
A ferocious sword strike, matching the grandiose wind it whipped up.
Clang!
Seo Mun-ha's longsword met it and bounced harmlessly away.
More precisely, he countered properly.
Striking the flat swiftly, Seo Mun-ha altered the strike's trajectory, stepping in to close the gap.
Boom!
The greatsword slammed the ground with a thunderous roar.
Hard to believe it was a weakened blow—its power was monstrous.
A head-on block would've been suicidal; it suited bludgeoning more than slashing.
'The blade should've chipped, my arm broken—that's normal!'
The warrior's eyes widened in undisguised shock.
"You're no amateur."
Seo Mun-ha's arm was unscathed.
In that instant, the distance vanished.
Out of the greatsword's reach, Seo Mun-ha released and regripped his sword in reverse grip, thrusting forth.
"Hup!"
Alarm flickered behind the man's blackened face.
The aggressor was now on the defensive.
He swiftly retreated, but before a full step, he yanked his hand back.
Swoosh!
The straight thrust curved abruptly into an arc.
Slash.
From low to high, the moonlight-kissed blade's edge carved the warrior's face.
No time to react.
The freewheeling swordplay was utterly unpredictable, like watching acrobatics rather than martial arts.
Drip.
Blood trickled from the fine line across his brow.
"A bit shallow?"
Disbelieving eyes glared sharper through the fingers probing the wound.
Seo Mun-ha calmly eyed his longsword's length.
"Faster than you look."
There he found the reason for the shallow cut.
'This guy's... Third Realm?'
The warrior—Peng Ga-ho—felt chills race down his spine.
Cold sweat carried sharpened vigilance, shredding any complacency.
One exchange couldn't gauge his full skill.
Third Realm or not didn't matter much.
Undeniably formidable, his nimble movements forbade rash charges.
The key was landing a strike exploiting distance, like spear versus sword.
'...Hm?'
As he swallowed tension, Seo Mun-ha unexpectedly glanced away.
"Seong-cheol, what are you standing around for?"
He was overseeing the squad in combat.
"Seo Gyeom went out alone—don't break formation!"
"Hah... hah..."
"Injured, fall back! Dong-hyeong! Woo-bok! Plug the gaps!"
He knew every squad member's name—the thoughtfulness offered no room for awe.
Fewer in number, group fights devolved into melees, where sustaining formation was key.
"I'm not even on his radar?!"
Enraged, Peng Ga-ho roared and charged.
"Arrogant bastard!"
Blood-soaked mask flipped down.
Whoosh!
Seo Mun-ha slowly turned his gaze.
Gripping the greatsword two-handed upright, it arced horizontally to bisect his waist.
Seo Mun-ha pressed down on the blade and simply chopped downward.
Clang!
The upright greatsword blocked in place of his waist.
Kaaang!
Incredibly, Peng Ga-ho's momentum halted against the slender edge.
"A deeply blood-grooved blade suits thrusting, not chopping."
Seo Mun-ha remarked flatly.
Poorly concealed, Peng Ga-ho plainly didn't know swordsmanship.
"As expected, axes suit you better than swords."
In just two clashes, Seo Mun-ha realized he was a bladesman, not a swordsman.