Chapter 92
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Embarkation at the Port
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“Hurry it up! We have to load everything within half a shichen!”
The harbor teemed with all sorts of people.
It was usually a quiet place where only a handful of fishing boats came and went, but for some reason today it was several times busier.
“Have you checked the sails properly? If you don't want to end up as fish food, inspect every single one again!”
Along with the grumbling of weathered fishermen experienced in sailing, loads of goods and people bustled back and forth across the harbor.
“......It's much larger than I expected.”
Eom Pung was no different from the rest.
As he paused to catch his breath and craned his neck upward, Seo Mun-ha silently gazed at the brigantine before them in agreement.
A proper brigantine with its sails fully unfurled.
Unlike the small vessel they had anticipated, this large ship was big enough to accommodate over a hundred people with room to spare.
It might have been an inefficient monstrosity, oversized for no good reason, but the people gathered at the harbor were more than enough to fill it.
The full twenty-four members of the Present Heaven Corps.
Fifty-two warriors from the Baek Ri Clan's Proclaiming Sword Squad, plus Baek Ri-seol.
That alone was no small number, but about half of the unfamiliar faces were dressed in matching pure white martial uniforms.
“It's really been a long time.”
Of course, they were familiar faces to Seo Mun-ha.
“Yes, I hope you've been well, Young Clan Heir.”
They were none other than the young leader of the Sang Man Escort Agency and his escorts.
“I should have come to see you sooner. Please forgive my rudeness all this time.”
Seo Mun-ha apologized to Yang Jeong for not showing his face until now.
“No, no. You've only just arrived in Hangzhou, Benefactor.”
The young leader of the Sang Man Escort Agency, Sang Man-seok, beamed with delight.
And rightly so, for the agency's current signboard stood proud and intact thanks to Seo Mun-ha.
“Better late than never, but thank you for lending us the brigantine.”
Despite their long-standing connection, Sang Man-seok hadn't forgotten the gratitude from back then and had waited for this day.
“And for providing your escorts as well.”
“Haha, it's only what we should do. We were all anxious about when we'd ever repay the favor you bestowed upon us.”
The escort leader and thirty escorts who followed with their greetings were all people Seo Mun-ha knew.
“Even so, you didn't have to come out yourself, Young Leader.”
“Are you trying to paint me as an ingrate, Benefactor?”
“Mm.”
“I'll surely be of help. I may not compare to you, but I haven't neglected my training either.”
Sang Man-seok girded his resolve and patted the longsword at his waist for emphasis, and Seo Mun-ha reluctantly nodded.
“We'll board first, then.”
As Sang Man-seok climbed aboard the brigantine, he added one more thing.
“And please, drop the formalities. You're not on your own anymore, are you?”
The trials of recent years seemed to have toughened Sang Man-seok into a true man.
“Yang Jeong.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“See to their every comfort.”
“Understood.”
One by one, more people trickled in afterward, pushing the number aboard the brigantine well over a hundred.
“All the cargo is loaded, Young Master.”
“Good work, Steward O.”
Before departure, Seo Mun-ha encouraged O Seok-jeong, who had put in considerable effort.
“The budget must have been tight, but thanks to you, we made the deadline.”
“I was merely following Third Young Master's orders.”
He waved it off and, as if waiting for the moment, pointed out a particular group.
“However.”
The group heading toward the Ghostly Bend Curve wasn't limited to the three ahead.
“Why are they cooperating with the main clan?”
Unlike the escorts, they wore drab official robes—government officials.
“No, is it even alright for them to cooperate?”
“Is the yamen getting involved in murim affairs?”
Eom Pung voiced his concerns, adding to O Seok-jeong's question.
“No need to worry.”
Even if they belonged to the yamen, they held no official posts.
Temporarily drafted as sailors, they were handpicked by Bukgung Yeon, who had leveraged mutual aid virtues to have the harbor guards fulfill Seo Mun-ha's request.
“They won't be fighting anyway.”
“If Third Young Master says so......”
It wasn't that he distrusted O Seok-jeong, but Seo Mun-ha couldn't reveal every detail.
“Take good care of the branch hall. And that one in the jail cell too.”
“Leave it to me.”
For instance, that woman in disguise.
“Wishing you good fortune in battle, Third Young Master.”
O Seok-jeong turned to leave, and Bukgung Yeon strode up to the two lords in his place.
“Everything's running like clockwork.”
She scanned the impeccably organized harbor.
“Glad there are no hitches.”
“Young Master, who is this?”
“Harbor patrol warden.”
“Ah......”
She puffed her cheeks at the curt introduction but quickly composed herself and bowed in greeting.
“I'm Bukgung Yeon.”
“Eom Pung. Thank you for helping the main clan this time.”
The fishermen who wouldn't be persuaded only carried cargo, so the guards turned sailors were indispensable.
“Then I'll take my leave.”
Eom Pung clasped his hands in salute and set to his remaining duties, predictably checking the weapons.
“He's a brusque one.”
“Is he?”
“Just like you, Young Master.”
“......”
Bukgung Yeon giggled at Eom Pung's retreating back.
“Speaking of which, what about Hwang Jeok-yeon? That Folding Fan Lord? Did he come along quietly?”
To her question, Seo Mun-ha gave a casual nod toward the brigantine.
It seemed Hwang Jeok-yeon had already accepted his fate aboard.
“I asked him to. With all sincerity.”
“......You're sure you didn't kill him?”
Seo Mun-ha shrugged.
“This send-off is enough. Head back now. No good if you're seen mingling with murim folk, right?”
“After coming all this way, you're ditching me?”
With their brief chat over, she revealed her true intent—not a farewell, but her goal.
“What if I don't?”
“Then I'm coming with you.”
“......Pardon?”
“I'm uneasy leaving them in your hands alone, and I've always wanted to see the secret vault of Cheok An Shin-tu at least once.”
If she weren't interested, she wouldn't have gathered that much intel beforehand. Diverging from the yamen's stance, she seized this once-in-a-lifetime chance.
After all, assembling this much force wasn't easy for anyone.
With relatively less risk on her end, she stepped forward boldly.
“Misery loves company, huh.”
Seo Mun-ha shook his head and followed the others.
‘......Was that directed at me?’
A faint shadow trailed them soon after, and before long, the brigantine carrying a quartet in four colors departed the harbor.
Drip.
A droplet from the ceiling rippled the stagnant water.
Plip.
Plip.
It landed on the gaunt face of a emaciated man.
The water seeped into his sunken skin, briefly lending it a spark of life.
“......Ugh...... Ah.”
But his wretched state remained largely unchanged, as did that of the dozens of others sharing his plight.
“Are you alright, Young Master?”
Amid occasional groans, a warrior steadied himself and checked on one man.
“I'm...... fine.”
The man the warriors prioritized, Seo Mun-u, weakly turned his gaze.
“What about Uncle?”
“He's circulating his qi.”
Circulating the external true energy to bolster the dantian and build inner power.
A warrior's aura often leaked uncontrollably, but not only was there no energy here—the space they occupied was oppressively still.
“......”
In the suffocating silence, Seo Mun Jeong-ryong focused on his qi circulation meditation.
Refining his energy without wasting even a strand, he was an exceptional martial artist.
‘Already four months in?’
Yet his mind roiled with anxiety.
Was this the despair of a prisoner?
Trapped in this vast cavern, he was slowly dying from the stifling confinement.
‘Or maybe years have passed.’
He wasn't the only one.
Forgetting the flow of time, they clung to bare survival in a space that drove them mad.
“Heh heh.”
Suddenly, a hollow laugh echoed.
“Who has the luxury to worry about whom right now?”
A middle-aged man sneered, rebuking the Seo Mun Clan warrior.
“The righteous folk keep up the pretense to the bitter end.”
“Watch your tongue.”
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong, eyes open, cautioned the man sternly.
Yeong Su-do of the Three Ghosts of the Base Hand, bearing the black emblem—the highest rank among the Iron Blood Fortress warriors distinguished by five colors.
In the Iron Blood Fortress, skill directly determined rank and position.
Thus, his prowess went without saying, his fame—be it glory or infamy—legendary.
“Can't stand the sight of it.”
But what use was that now?
As everyone perished without distinction, past glories and power meant nothing.
“Seems the Three Ghosts of the Base Hand still have energy to spare. Otherwise, you'd best conserve your breath for something more useful.”
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong coolly cut off the unexpected companion's words.
Righteous and unorthodox.
Warriors who mixed like water and oil now shared this space.
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong, meditating without qualms even amid the unorthodox, had grown accustomed to their communal existence.
‘But if this continues......’
The worries plaguing him and the others were mounting.
Seeping rainwater made fresh water no issue, but dwindling food supplies were.
Too many mouths, too little food.
When it ran out, blades would surely clash.
Their mutual truce aimed to minimize pointless energy loss—and ultimately, to survive.
The end of food meant the end of the cold war, and even peak warriors had limits to enduring hunger.
‘Brother......’
Having tended his own wounds, Seo Mun Jeong-ryong sank into deep thought.
In this sightless abyss, Seo Mun Jeong-cheon's image flickered before him.
‘Looks like I can't protect the child after all. My apologies will come in the afterlife.’
Had failing to stop Seo Mun-u's ambitions been the mistake?
Looking back, the beginning hadn't been bad.
Acting on reliable intel, they had ultimately found Cheok An Shin-tu's secret vault.
No one had imagined things would end like this when they entered the annex.
Before and after Seo Mun Jeong-ryong's arrival in Hangzhou, the Seo Mun Clan had lost many warriors, but before the name of Cheok An Shin-tu and his treasures, all grew ruthless. The warriors' sacrifice was mere fuel for the desire to reach the high ground.
The Famous Tiger Corps and Victory Dragon Corps.
Including the clan's main forces, they had lost over two hundred warriors.
Surprisingly, clashes with Iron Blood Fortress and other warriors caused few losses.
‘Just that place.’
What had always bound them, then and now, was the intricate trap array embedded in the annex.
‘If only we could break through there......’
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong pierced his hazy vision to glare at the massive stone gate.
“Give it up.”
The Three Ghosts gestured at his fierce gaze.
“You know what happened to those who tried to pass, don't you?”
The Seo Mun Clan and Iron Blood Fortress weren't the only ones.
Through the sacrifices of warriors from all sects, they had overcome countless trap arrays to reach the stone gate—but could go no further.
Beyond lay a hell unlike any they'd known in life.
“......I know.”
To make matters worse, the way back was sealed; trapped front and back, they awaited death meekly.
“Warriors from the fortress were waiting outside the annex. All we can do is hope for rescue. Dead or alive, we hold on somehow.”
“The main clan won't sit idle either, but......”
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong trailed off skeptically.
‘Rescue......’
Who could breach the prior traps? And even if they did, they'd fare no better.
Still, if there was a sliver of hope......
Wishing the rescue team included one versed in trap arrays, he quietly closed his eyes.