Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 011
Chapter Title: News of the Battle Deployment
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The season was drawing toward summer. For eight months, there hadn't been any major battles.
The Demonic Cult had set up camp in the Song River Basin and made no moves. According to Murim Alliance intelligence, their forces there were even withdrawing.
With more than half their troops slipping away beyond the Song River, this was the perfect chance for the Murim Alliance to seize the basin.
Word was slowly spreading about the mobilization for battle against the Demonic Cult.
Seok Du-myeong had heard the news of the impending deployment, and it left him needlessly restless. That's why he'd stepped out of the barracks early that morning.
After the last large-scale battle the previous year, both the Murim Alliance and the Demonic Cult had been strangely quiet.
There had been occasional small skirmishes between scouting parties sent out by both sides, but nothing resembling a proper fight otherwise.
Thanks to that, Seok Du-myeong had been able to diligently practice the Clear Wind Heart Formula, along with Wind Step, Clear Wind Sword Technique, and the improved Piercing Swift Sword Technique—now known as the Master's Augmented Piercing Swift Sword Technique.
He'd only grasped the forms of the Clear Wind Sword Technique so far, but the Master's version felt somewhat familiar since it built on what he'd learned before.
Even so, Seok Du-myeong couldn't shake a vague sense of unease.
"Brother, it feels like a real battle's finally coming after all this time. You think we'll be okay this round too? Word is the Demonic Cult bastards are abandoning the Song River Basin to cross the river. Why the hell are we chasing down even the ones who are just leaving? Can't make heads or tails of what those lunatics are up to."
Yeom-pal was just as on edge, having come out of the barracks like Seok Du-myeong that morning.
No matter how seasoned a warrior was from years on the battlefield, heading into combat was always frightening and unwelcome.
Who would enjoy a fight where you never knew who might die?
Jin Yeom-pal and Seok Du-myeong didn't give a damn about righteousness or chivalry in the martial world.
For ronin like them, hired to fight, battle was even more loathsome.
"Brother, not every unit's deploying this time anyway, right? Maybe the Demon-Exterminating Corps gets a pass?"
Yeom-pal really hated fighting. He was clinging to this ridiculous hope.
"No, that's not happening."
Seok Du-myeong crushed Yeom-pal's faint optimism.
Yeom-pal shot him a glare, but Seok Du-myeong pressed on.
"It's been eight months since the Murim Alliance started shelling out good money to us ronin in the Demon-Exterminating Corps. You think they won't want to recoup their investment? They'll throw us into the fray to squeeze every bit of value out of it. Ronin lives? Who cares if we drop dead. Hell, they might even hope we do—to save on future payouts. Every dangerous mission this time? Straight to the Demon-Exterminating Corps."
Yeom-pal's face grew darker with every word.
"Anyway, all we can do is train when we can, maintain our weapons, and hope we survive."
Seok Du-myeong felt just as glum, but some things were inevitable.
Just then, Gong Seo-chil emerged from inside the barracks and called out to the two standing in front.
"Brothers, time to eat."
"Yeah, got it. Come on, Yeom-pal, let's grub. It's all for filling our bellies and staying alive."
Stepping inside, they were hit with a savory aroma—Gong Seo-chil was showing off his skills for once.
The squad had pushed two bunks together to make a makeshift table, and all eight remaining members gathered around it.
In a barracks meant for twenty, having only eight left made the place feel eerily empty.
No reinforcements had come since the last battle, and rumors said the Murim Alliance had stopped recruiting ronin altogether.
Seok Du-myeong figured the rumors were true.
With the war bogged down in a stalemate and attrition, the Alliance had no reason to keep throwing money at ronin hires.
The Demon-Exterminating Corps was only being kept around because of the sunk costs; otherwise, it'd have been disbanded by now.
That left plenty of spare bunks, which Squad 2 was using as tables since they wouldn't need them anytime soon.
"Gong Seo-chil, you're the man! What would we do without you?"
Squad Leader Jo Ja-muk praised him nonstop between mouthfuls, spraying spit as he ate.
Seo-chil had gone all out: pheasant meat stir-fried with veggies, steamed rice cakes, and boiled thin noodles.
It was a feast you rarely saw in the field.
The Corps HQ provided some rations, but they were miserably inadequate.
Basic flour, a bit of side ingredients, veggies, salt—that was it, in pitiful quantities, with no meat at all.
Seok Du-myeong's daily pigeon and rabbit hauls from stone-throwing, plus pooled cash for smuggled wheat and veggies, filled the gaps.
Seo-chil had even scored spices to make it all taste right. Thanks to him, Squad 2 was living large when it came to chow.
"Seo-chil, when this war's over, wanna team up and open an inn with me? I'm sick of this sword-swinging life. Got enough pay saved to set up shop somewhere, get married, live easy. Think about it—you handle the cooking, I'll front the cash, and pay you handsomely."
Jo Ja-muk was slyly sounding him out.
"Haven't really thought about it much. Who knows when this war ends..."
Seo-chil wisely didn't jump at it.
'Squad Leader, why's he sniffing around my guy Seo-chil like that?'
Seok Du-myeong, who had his own inn plans involving Seo-chil, eyed Jo Ja-muk coldly.
"Squad Leader, rumors are flying about a deployment soon. What's the word for our squad?"
"Ah, no orders from above yet, but something's bound to go down, right?"
Even as he spoke, Jo Ja-muk's face darkened.
"We've only got these eight guys. Can we even fight properly?"
Ma Seong-hu, usually so tight-lipped you rarely heard him, spoke up challengingly.
Not just him—all the squad members were dying to know. They paused eating and fixed their eyes on Squad Leader Jo Ja-muk.
"How should I know? We'll get orders soon enough. You think any squad in the Corps is at full strength? We just do what the brass says."
Jo Ja-muk spat it out, uncomfortable under their stares.
"They won't replace a single man but expect us to fight. It's not their necks on the line. Bastards."
Yeom-pal chewed a hunk of meat and cursed. Still fuming, he raised his voice at Seo-chil.
"Seo-chil, got any booze stashed? This spread's too good without drinks."
"Brother, booze this early in the morning..."
Gong Seo-chil trailed off, glancing at Squad Leader Jo Ja-muk.
"Sounds like you do. Squad Leader, we're all down in the dumps—let's have a round with the meal."
Yeom-pal stared Jo Ja-muk down boldly.
No one spoke, but their looks silently pressed for approval.
Jo Ja-muk caved soon enough.
"Fine, let's do it."
"Ha, our squad leader's the best!"
With his okay, Seo-chil headed out to fetch the hidden stash.
The Demon-Exterminating Corps rarely did regular group training.
Ronin weren't the type to take kindly to meddling, so aside from occasional formation drills, everyone trained solo as they saw fit.
Even those token group sessions had stopped after last year's battle—the Corps had taken heavy losses.
From an original strength of four hundred, only about 250 remained now, a bit over half.
Squads had always been understrength, but after nearly a hundred casualties or severe wounds in that fight, many couldn't even field a full roster no matter what.
You need bodies to make anything work, formations or otherwise.
The Murim Alliance should've disbanded the Corps or reorganized it heavily, but they hadn't.
Doing so would've required sending another full combat unit to the Fifth District—a big ask for the Alliance.
The Corps was in limbo. This battle might decide its fate, depending on the damage.
So, for eight months, it'd been left to rot—especially understrength squads like Seok Du-myeong's Squad 2.
Idle ronin with time on their hands? They drank or gambled. Gambling felt off in wartime, so booze it was—they scrounged it however.
After three shots of potent baijiu, Seok Du-myeong sprawled on his bunk, rolling around.
'Wasted time. Better circulate qi.'
The Clear Wind Heart Formula allowed reclining meditation, a revelation from his master Dan Mun-hyeok that had hooked Seok Du-myeong instantly.
For a guy who loved lounging, it was a godsend.
He'd occasionally doze off mid-session and end up in grueling dream-training with his master, but...
That mostly happened evenings; midday naps like now stayed dreamless.
Lying back, he circulated his qi. It welled up from his dantian before spilling out.
Before, this pissed him off—depressing him during every session.
Hard-earned qi mostly leaked away, barely accumulating.
But after learning Clear Wind Heart Formula from his master, he could feel it pooling in his meridians.
His level was still low, so he couldn't gauge the exact amount, but as his master said, even tripling it would be huge.
'Ah, such a shame. If it's leaking anyway, why not fivefold? Tch.'
Seok Du-myeong mused inwardly during meditation. He didn't know it was actually fivefold—he still thought three, per his master.
The outflowing qi raced to his meridians on its own.
Gauging his dantian, he estimated nearly nine years' worth of internal energy accumulated.
He sensed it himself, but post-Three Veins Unsealing from his master, both quality and quantity of gains had skyrocketed.
Before: lugging qi like goods on a narrow trail.
After: hauling it by carriage on a wide-open highway.
Heaven-Penetrating Formula let him control his qi sense too. Even Master Dan Mun-hyeok acknowledged it as peerless now.
Heading into deployment, he had big edges over last time, but the unease lingered.
Seok Du-myeong tossed and turned late into the night before finally drifting off.