Nothing Has Changed. (3)

Kwaaaaang!

Kwaaaaaaaang!

The roar of shells being fired echoed thunderously into the gorge. Even with the very limited visibility, it was not hard to make out what was happening outside.

One of Southern Island’s elders, struggling to block incoming shells despite being poisoned and unable to properly use his internal energy, took a direct hit in midair and was flung into the gorge.

Seeing that gruesome sight, one of Ho Ga-Myung’s aides unconsciously clenched his fist tightly.

‘As expected.’

His gaze turned to Ho Ga-Myung beside him. Any strategist would be chilled by this situation.

But Ho Ga-Myung showed no trace of excitement even now. He simply focused, as if refusing to miss a single detail of what unfolded before him.

Each time like this, he found himself marveling at Ho Ga-Myung again and again.

Because he had unveiled some great stratagem?

No, that wasn’t the reason.

In truth, the strategy itself wasn’t particularly remarkable. Projecting fire onto those exiting a narrow place is basic, basic stuff. Hardly something to call military art.

What was truly impressive was his meticulousness in preparing for what lay behind the enemy, even though they had walked into the poisonous snare of the gorge of their own accord.

If it had been someone other than Ho Ga-Myung, they would have sent those cannons and archers… no, perhaps every available unit straight into the gorge.

To turn as many inside that narrow gorge into lost souls as possible.

But looking back now, in a narrow, winding gorge, bows couldn’t demonstrate their true power, and cannons couldn’t be fired effectively. They would instead have been hampered by the cramped terrain filled with their own men.

Even if they positioned forces above the gorge, firing cannons down from that height was impossible. Arrows shot from above would lose their power by the time they hit the ground, becoming nothing but waste.

If those passing through the gorge were ordinary soldiers, unimbued arrows might suffice, but against trained murim warriors, arrows without internal qi would be useless.

Thanks to those useless forces encamped outside the gorge, they were now inflicting devastating damage on the enemies.

It may not be entirely so, but at a glance the damage inflicted by a single volley of arrows and bombardment seemed greater than what they had suffered inside the gorge.

“C-commander.”

At that moment another aide stammered out.

“D-did you foresee all of this and position them accordingly?”

Ho Ga-Myung frowned slightly. The aide who had asked the question went pale and quickly bowed his head.

“S-sorry.”

This was hardly the time for idle Q&A. Knowing that and yet failing to suppress his curiosity was a clear mistake.

But then Ho Ga-Myung spoke.

“Hit the enemy’s weak spot.”

“…Yes?”

“That’s the basics.”

Ho Ga-Myung’s eyes remained fixed on the enemies.

Attacking from advantageous terrain is a basic tenet of military strategy, and targeting the enemy’s weak points is another basic principle.

Others were focused only on what was before them; he was focused solely on what lay behind.

“When you say weak spot…?”

But the aides did not fully understand his words. A weak point—what did that have to do with this situation?

The enemy’s weaknesses were their lack of combat experience and their small numbers.

“What problem arises when they enter the gorge?”

“They haven’t experienced that…”

“No.”

Ho Ga-Myung quickly continued.

“Their formation gets stretched out.”

“Th-that means the number that can attack at once decreases, making it difficult to fully utilize their strength.”

Ho Ga-Myung’s eye twitched again.

The one who had answered thoughtlessly quickly bowed his head deeply.

“A head is meant for thinking. Who benefits when few number face few number has already been proven inside the gorge? This gorge is not advantageous to us.”

“…I was foolish.”

“There is only one advantage we gain from their stretched formation.”

Ho Ga-Myung’s gaze fixed on one place: Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, who was holding back Gwi Yang’s pursuit alongside Yu Yiseol.

“They cannot exist in two places at once.”

“Ah…”

“A strength is the absence of a weakness. Conversely, a weakness is the absence of a strength. The moment the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint is not present, their weakness is exposed.”

“…”

“Thoroughly targeting the enemy’s weakness is the basics of strategy.”

“So you knew that fellow would be in the rear in advance…?”

“No.”

“Yes?”

“It doesn’t matter which. If he had been in front, it would have been impossible to damage him with such arrows and shells, but the rear would have been thoroughly toyed with by Gwi Yang.”

“Ah…”

“Now it’s simply reversed. Since he’s at the back, even the Blood Sword Troops can’t exert themselves, but that allows us to break the front.”

Only then did those who understood Ho Ga-Myung’s idea nod unconsciously. It sounded obvious once spoken, yet no one here had thought of it—except Ho Ga-Myung.

Ho Ga-Myung closed his eyes briefly.

He hadn’t bothered to say this to teach them. He spoke it aloud to himself to reaffirm his own resolve.

‘No need for clever stratagems.’

No, to be honest, he didn’t know how to employ flashy schemes.

If Jang Ilso had been here, he would have used completely different moves: collapsing the cliff in unimaginable ways to bury them at once, or turning the earth over to crush them.

But that is the sort of thing Jang Ilso could do. Ho Ga-Myung could not conceive such methods. So he would delve in, more stubbornly adhering to the basics.

‘This war is one of attrition.’

He had no way of knowing how the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint interpreted this war, but in Ho Ga-Myung’s judgment it was a thorough war of attrition.

So rather than taking reckless risks, he would nibble them down. By steadily reducing them person by person, even the big fish that was the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint would eventually be caught in the net he set.

Ho Ga-Myung’s gaze turned to the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint. Fatigue was evident on his face.

‘He must know, of course.’

Ho Ga-Myung did not overestimate himself. He did not think Chung Myung would be unaware of what he sought.

Yet the reason Ho Ga-Myung did not hesitate was because the world contains the saying ‘Small number of people cannot deal with large number’—the many cannot be defeated by the few.

There are things that even knowledge cannot stop. There are cases where awareness yields no remedy. That’s why people say the outcome of a war is decided before it even begins.

A war that cannot be won.

That the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint himself had leapt into such a situation was his limitation, and a weakness those who called themselves the righteous had no choice but to bear.

Ho Ga-Myung cast a quick glance at Chung Myung. The pair of dark flickering eyes suddenly cooled.

This was no time to be intoxicated with victory. He had to make the next move before that fellow stirred.

“Nothing has changed.”

Everything still existed smoothly within his awareness.

Chung Myung bit his lip, unable to hold back his anger.

‘Ho Ga-Myung.’

He glared fiercely at the distant Ho Ga-Myung. He wanted to rush over and cut that man’s throat, but the wily fox would never allow him such proximity.

The unease Chung Myung had felt toward Ho Ga-Myung began to take shape in this moment.

Chung Myung’s explosive power and unexpected ingenuity were disastrously mismatched with those who, unperturbed by circumstances, did their duty with cold thoroughness.

‘Damn!’

Chung Myung glanced slightly behind him.

Southern Island Sect was resisting desperately, but it was mere endurance.

But withdrawing was difficult. The moment they charged out chasing the enemy, those who hadn’t escaped the gorge would be exposed helplessly to the rain of attacks.

‘There aren’t enough blades!’

Not just holding the line, but blades that could move alone and cleave the enemy…!

Chung Myung grabbed Yu Yiseol by the shoulder and pulled her abruptly.

When Yu Yiseol looked at him with startled eyes, Chung Myung charged back toward the rear and shouted.

“Go quickly and help that side, sago!”

“Sajil!”

“Go!”

Only then did Yu Yiseol fully see the situation. She understood why Chung Myung had shoved her. The side that needed help now was there—more than Chung Myung himself.

But…

She saw Chung Myung’s leg flinch for an instant as he pushed off the ground. It could no longer be fully hidden.

Both were in danger. Neither could be abandoned.

Then what on earth…

“I told you to go!”

Chung Myung barked loudly at the confused Yu Yiseol, even though Gwi Yang might charge again at any moment.

Seeing her sajil’s bloodshot eyes, she clenched her fists until her knuckles bled.

She knew.

She had learned. She had been taught. She had rehearsed it.

She knew, to the point of hating it, exactly where a swordsman must run when faced with a choice where neither side could be taken.

The teachings her sect had given her now felt like a sharp dagger. It pained her that she could never turn away from that learning.

Gritting her teeth, Yu Yiseol turned and, as if shaking off lingering regrets, shot off like a beam of light.

Seeing that, Chung Myung gave the same order to Tang Pae.

“Go there together and help!”

“Yes!”

Tang Pae also ran back without complaint.

After sending the two off, Chung Myung stared at Gwi Yang. Gwi Yang flicked the sword in his hand and advanced slowly.

“I thought you’d at least say thank you?”

“That would be for me to hear, rather.”

“Heh heh heh heh.”

A gleam of smug satisfaction flashed in Gwi Yang’s eyes.

He wasn’t wrong. It was true they had given time to tidy the situation, but that was not necessarily disadvantageous to Gwi Yang.

Why stop a wounded prey that had fallen from the pack and remained alone?

He didn’t care about the others’ situations. The only thing that held his interest was Chung Myung before him.

He could see it: the convulsing wounded leg, the side where hastily applied pressure had split open and bled again.

Not only that. His whole body was riddled with countless small wounds, and his face was sallow as if from internal injury.

He had surely already lost a considerable amount of blood.

In such a state, even the greatest warrior in the land would be unable to display even a fraction of his true power.

A short breath escaped Chung Myung’s lips.

Honestly, this was getting a bit too much.

Perhaps from blood loss, his vision blurred. The hand gripping his sword had lost strength. He was used to pain, but the helplessness that comes after being utterly exhausted never grew familiar.

But he still had to fight.

“A weary business, isn’t it.”

Gwi Yang sneered as he closed the distance.

“To know you must retreat and yet be unable to retreat—”

“…”

“—even though you plainly know it’s the road to death.”

Despite the blatant mockery, Chung Myung instead gave a faint laugh.

“Do you know why you’re weak?”

“What?”

Gwi Yang narrowed his eyes at the unexpected question. Chung Myung mocked him and said:

“Because you ran when you wanted to run.”

“…”

“The reason I’m strong is simple too. When I wanted to run, I couldn’t.”

Be it at any time.

They didn’t understand what it meant to be strong. They didn’t know what he had truly wanted to become.

Chung Myung was still being pursued.

One who had never once retreated. One who had been stronger than anyone in the world.

“Talk your nonsense in hell.”

Gwi Yang, flanked by the Blood Sword Troops members, charged in at once.

In front of Chung Myung, who met the charge without backing down, the back of the one he had always watched flickered dimly.