1288 — A Sight To See Until You Are Sick Of It. (2)

“Damn it. The Little Ghost Clan has been hit!”

“Little Ghost Clan? They have over a hundred people, and they couldn’t hold an instant?”

“What do you mean an instant! They couldn’t even hold half an instant!”

“Damn it! Then where are they now?”

“They’re close! They’ve come this close!”

The leader of the Yaksha Clan, Jang Cheon-Gi, went deathly pale.

‘W-what on earth is going on.’

It was pure pandemonium. The enemy hadn’t even shown their faces here yet, and already it looked like a great army had swept through.

It was inevitable. The basis of a siege line is a flawless deployment that leaves no gap for the enemy to slip through. That requires constant communication between the deployed positions.

But now the communication network set up for that purpose kept bringing bad news. It meant the previously built encirclement was being broken at an absurd speed.

So if there wasn’t chaos, that would have been stranger, wouldn’t it?

“I-it looks like they’re arriving soon, clan leader!”

“Already this far? What happened to the ones out front?”

“Well, it’s obvious what happened……”

“T-this……”

Jang Cheon-Gi stood dazed, not even thinking to wipe the cold sweat trickling down his jaw.

‘How did it end up like this?’

When they had arrived here, things were clearly calm. There had even been time to exchange casual greetings with the leaders of other Evil Sects they knew.

Was that complacency? Far from it.

Of course, the Yaksha Clan was a somewhat known Evil Sect in Guangdong. They had managed to maintain their existence even under the Ten Thousand People Clan that ruled Guangdong.

But that didn’t mean the Yaksha Clan was truly powerful.

The reason they’d survived was simple: when the Ten Thousand People Clan started consolidating the area, they didn’t clumsily resist; they quickly flattened themselves and submitted.

Moreover, paradoxically, they survived because they were a worthless third-rate sect.

A competent sect would have been absorbed or eliminated by the Ten Thousand People Clan, but the Yaksha Clan gave no reason for the clan to bother. By playing the obedient dog that did what the Ten Thousand People Clan ordered, they could at least keep their plaque.

Would such people ever be given a real mission?

Ho Ga-Myung knew this very well, and any orders he gave them were meant only to fill out numbers.

So their job was simply to go to the place Ho Ga-Myung pointed out, lend some strength to the main force, and share in the Ten Thousand People Clan’s victory. If they were lucky and could cut off a fleeing remnant, so much the better.

That had always been the Yaksha Clan’s role, so they expected nothing different this time.

But the current situation was completely unlike what Jang Cheon-Gi had expected.

“Are the Southern Island Sect’s bastards this strong? Even if the opponent is one of the Nine Great Sects, Little Ghost Clan is of people stronger than us!”

“H-how should I know? I’ve never fought the Southern Island lads.”

To be fair, it’s not like they’d fought no one but the Southern Island.

They’d never tangled with a prestigious Justice faction like one of the Nine Great Sects in their lives—if they had, they wouldn’t be alive to tell it.

“Damn it… If they’re this strong, do you think those bastards in Southern Island Sect would have just been holed up on that island until now? They’re not insane! Does this situation even make sense?”

“Leader.”

The vice leader tried to calm the agitated Jang Cheon-Gi and quickly scanned the surroundings. Then he lowered his voice and asked.

“W-what will you do?”

“Do what?”

“If we stay like this we’ll only die a miserable death, right? Little Ghost Clan’s been hit too.”

“What…?”

“We should just…”

Jang Cheon-Gi licked his cracked lips repeatedly. Though the sentence trailed off, he knew what the vice leader was suggesting.

He hesitated, but in truth his decision was already made.

“N-no.”

“Leader!”

“I’d rather die honorably.”

Jang Cheon-Gi shook his head violently. The consequences of disobeying Ho Ga-Myung and abandoning the front were too obvious.

Of course, clinging to life for even a moment longer was vitally important. Jang Cheon-Gi would have taken any chance to live one more day.

But that only applies if the death awaiting him would be the same. No fool who equated dying by an enemy’s blade with suffering Ho Ga-Myung’s revenge remained alive in Guangdong. Those who lived knew how horrific that retribution would be.

Having seen such scenes until he was sick of them, Jang Cheon-Gi had no other choice. Those who lacked the courage to bite their tongues had no option but to hold this place.

“Ho Ga-Myung might have given a wrong order!”

“You lunatic! Do you call that a thing to say? Do you know what kind of man he is to give a wrong order!”

“But this is nothing but an order to die…”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“What?”

“That’s what I said! Are you deaf?!”

Jang Cheon-Gi snapped, raising his voice.

It was unthinkable that Ho Ga-Myung could misjudge the situation and err. Even if that happened, there would be no one to forgive anyone who disobeyed his orders.

“Damn it… I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die either. But if we run we’ll die even more miserably. What do you expect us to do…”

Jang Cheon-Gi muttered like a madman, without any concern for those nearby listening.

“If I’d known this, I should’ve gone over to the Northern lands three years ago—why did I stay here…”

“L-leader.”

The rest of that sentence would have been ‘lower your voice, there are ears around us listening.’ But those words never left their mouths. Before the sentence finished, a faint scream came from afar.

In an instant, the gazes of Jang Cheon-Gi at the front and several others snapped toward the front.

Everyone’s faces drained of color.

Just as they wondered if they had misheard, another scream sounded—this time clearer than before.

“T-they are coming…”

Someone groaned out.

A few clan leaders shouted desperately to rally the fallen morale.

“Don’t be afraid! No matter how famed the Southern Island Sect is, this is Guangdong. The commander couldn’t have left us unprepared.”

“That’s right! The Southern Island Sect doesn’t even reach the Ten Thousand People Clan’s toe!”

Of course, not everyone took those words at face value.

If Ho Ga-Myung had truly prepared to catch them, why were the sects out front being so quickly struck down? How had the Southern Island Sect, supposedly far below the Ten Thousand People Clan, shown up here in Guangdong? Above all, why were the clan leaders’ voices faltering as if afraid their positions would be exposed? None of it made sense.

But here, such questions meant nothing. Even if voiced, there would be no one to answer them.

Everyone could only suppress their rising fear and watch the front with trembling eyes.

But moments later, what met them wasn’t an enemy bristling with killing intent. From the trembling thicket poured out Evil Sect members, frantic and petrified, fleeing in indescribable terror.

“Aaahhhhhh!”

“Save meeeee!”

“G-go away! Get awayyyy!”

Confronted with a sight they’d never seen before, they froze.

They were Evil Sect members—Evil Sects of Guangdong at that. Even if not top-tier martial artists, Guangdong’s Evil Sects had seen many battlefields and were sick of watching people die.

But none had ever seen people so utterly terrified.

Jang Cheon-Gi realized for the first time that bloodshot eyes could tremble like that.

Pale faces drained of color, bloodshot eyes, hollow expressions, even drool trickling from the mouth.

What on earth could someone see to become like that? Not a commoner, but someone trained in martial arts?

Whether fortunate or not, that question was soon answered.

“S-saave me…”

Squelch!

Something sharp suddenly protruded from the throat of the one running at the very back.

“Gurgle… gurgle…”

In an instant his throat was pierced; he weakly raised a trembling hand as if to clutch what had come through his neck. Many simply stared at that unnatural, grotesque motion.

But.

Crack.

In that instant the blade that had pierced his throat—truly, it was a sword—twisted without mercy.

Those who saw it involuntarily recoiled.

It was an instinctive human reaction that even amassed prowess couldn’t override.

“Gurgle…”

Dark red blood gushed from the hole the twisting sword had made. The convulsing man’s eyes dimmed as if from fever.

In the end his body collapsed forward like a rotting bundle of straw.

And everyone there saw.

The one who had stepped out from behind the fallen man.

A young swordsman in an inky black uniform, holding a dazzlingly white sword.

Jang Cheon-Gi’s eyes widened.

“Th-that…”

For a moment, what gripped his mind was astonishment before fear. He was so stunned he didn’t even notice terrified people screaming as they brushed past him.

His gaze landed on the young swordsman’s chest. The swordsman’s robe, darkened by blood, bore a vivid red Plum Blossom emblem.

A black uniform embroidered with a Plum Blossom emblem and a pure white sword.

Hair tied tight, and eyes terrifyingly cold.

All of it spoke a single name.

“M-Mount Hua… Mount Hua’s Sword…”

Flash!

A sudden flash of light exploded before Jang Cheon-Gi’s eyes.

He saw something pale, and felt someone’s sleeve brush past his side.

A terrible burning sensation followed.

“Ugh…”

A pain as if seared by fire covered his throat. It quickly spread and flared up through his shoulder.

Jang Cheon-Gi knew the source of that heat. He didn’t need to look around to know: the heat was blood—red blood pouring from his throat.

‘Of course……’

Jang Cheon-Gi’s world warped. The screams that had seemed to tear his eardrums quickly faded.

He felt the painfully blue sky tilt and pour toward him as he thought.

‘Right, the Southern Island Sect couldn’t possibly do something like this.’

Someone like the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint could however mock this defensive line and break through it so easily.

‘Then… that’s…’

Only he would know whether the emotion Jang Cheon-Gi felt in his final moment was relief or consolation.