Falling Behind

“Stay sharp!”

Hyeongjin rallied his disciples and scanned the surroundings. Luckily, there were only black-clad men—none of the dreaded Seven Stellar Lords.

“The Living Sword, First Form!”

The Living Sword style was distinctive for being executed in strict sequence, from the first to the 108th form. At first glance, telling the enemy the order seemed a disadvantage, but the execution varied greatly depending on the wielder. Even a skilled martial artist found it hard to resist someone truly versed in this style, because though seemingly simple, it drew upon Silent Poetry’s profound internal power.

At Hyeongjin’s command, the seven disciples of Emptiness Dhuta Sect unleashed their techniques. These were the more skilled among their rank, and soon the black-clad men began to fall into defense. However,

“Yun-seon, are you alright?”

Hyeongjin was fighting more enemies than the others while also shielding Yun-seon, and it was wearing him down. If this went on, Yun-seon’s life would be in danger. Yun-seon couldn’t even properly perform a form—just feebly swung his sword arm a few times.

‘This is bad.’

Even if Emptiness Dhuta’s skills outclassed them, the enemy’s numbers were overwhelming. Worse, no matter how many they cut down, the enemy ranks didn’t thin—if anything, they seemed to be increasing. Delay meant not only Yun-seon but everyone could die.

“Eldest Sahyung!”

Do-pyeong suddenly appeared close behind Hyeongjin.

“This won’t work. Let’s break south-east and shake them off.”

“But Yun-seon…”

Hyeongjin also thought that was the only way—but he couldn’t carry Yun-seon with lightness footwork techniques.

“Then will you kill all your brothers for the sake of that bastard with no lineage?”

Hyeongjin shook his head. The brothers he had grown up with meant more than Yun-seon, who’d only been with them a few short years.

“Then I’ll stay back to shield Yun-seon—you lead and break the path.”

He believed that was the best option. The priority was getting the others out.

“Eldest Sahyung, who knows if more ambushes lie ahead? You must lead. Yun-seon was my responsibility from the start—I’ll see it through.”

Do-pyeong’s earnest expression moved him. Hyeongjin, who cherished Do-pyeong like a younger brother, was uneasy leaving him—but his lightness skill was the best among them, so he trusted he’d manage.

“If it’s impossible, value your life first.”

Hyeongjin gave his final instruction and surged forward. Unburdened by protecting Yun-seon, his Sword qi tore through enemies like paper dolls. With a whistle, he signaled his brothers, then used the Cloud-Stepping Stride footwork to carve a path southeast.

“Ugh!”

“Argh!”

With their senior breaking through, the remaining five fought more easily. As dozens of black-clad men fell bleeding, a long corridor opened.

“Kang Yun-seon!”

While attention was on the others, Kwak Do-pyeong flew to Yun-seon’s side. Yun-seon was struggling against two attackers, barely swinging his sword, legs trembling as if he couldn’t even stand.

Clang! Clang!

Within a few moves, Do-pyeong dealt fatal blows to both. Though Yun-seon normally disliked him, in that dire moment he felt genuine relief. After all, they were fellow disciples—personal grudges seemed forgotten.

“Brother, can you walk?”

Do-pyeong asked gently, helping him up.

“Senior Brother Kwak… thank you, truly.”

Relieved, Yun-seon collapsed into him, drained of all strength. Do-pyeong smiled broadly—he’d been waiting for this moment.

“Do you know why you’ll die today?”

Before Yun-seon could react, Do-pyeong slammed his foot into his chest. He flew like a leaf in the wind, crashing to the ground. Looking down, Do-pyeong’s face was twisted with the same murderous malice as the Black Butterfly Twin Assassins.

“Your sin is daring to call me ‘brother’!”

Yun-seon realized why Do-pyeong had separated him—he’d always intended to kill him given the chance. From their first meeting, Do-pyeong had hated him without reason, resenting how this outsider earned master’s and brothers’ favor. For four years he’d sworn to one day take revenge.

Do-pyeong watched him writhe, then hurried after the others—knowing Yun-seon would soon die anyway, and hoping the Taiyi Divine Sect’s butchers would make it slow.

“Kwak Do-pyeong…”

Face in the dirt, Yun-seon slowly rose. He had sensed Do-pyeong’s treachery and shifted his body back at the strike, lessening the blow. His breath was ragged, Fire Qi tearing through his meridians, dizziness pounding his head—but he wasn’t helpless enough to be finished by Do-pyeong.

‘Even if I die, it won’t be by their hands.’

The black-clad men, having lost Hyeongjin’s group, spotted Yun-seon and swarmed him—at least fifteen by his count. With grim resolve, he switched his sword from right to left hand.

“Come then, all of you!”

The frail, sweat-soaked youth staggered forward, defiant. The masked men were surprised, but numbers gave them confidence. Two lunged from left and right.

“Water-Moon-Heart Sword!”

With a sharp cry, Yun-seon spun his left hand, moving entirely differently from The Living Sword. He had never shown this in front of his sect brothers—holding his sword in the right hand until now to hide that he practiced an art not of their sect.

The sword art he learned from Ju-un didn’t hinder his Taiyi cultivation and was easier to master. His right arm couldn’t handle the swift Water Moon style, so he trained it left-handed—relentlessly, until he could nearly match Ju-un in external technique.

“Aagh!”

The one on the left screamed, slashed badly in the arm, collapsing. He had underestimated Yun-seon, remembering his weakness earlier. His comrade on the right faltered, retreating—not daring to duel him one-on-one.

“Out of the way!”

Then a tall masked man shoved his fellows aside and leapt forward. He alone wore no mask, his face unnaturally pale, more eerie than theirs. He wielded a shorter sword, pressing close on Yun-seon, each strike sharp enough to whistle in the wind.

“Wait!”

Yun-seon knew instinctively he’d lose if he fought this man head-on. It was time to gamble.

“Where is your leader?”

Panting, Yun-seon asked, and the tall man froze as if turned to ice.

“What?”

Yun-seon shouted boldly, though his body shook. His mouth went dry—would this bluff work?

“I asked—where is Right Shadow?”

The others assumed these were Taiyi Divine Sect cultists, recalling similar masks at the martial meet. But Yun-seon had seen both types—he knew from the start these were Black Butterfly Shadows.

“I am the last disciple of the Sword God—the one your leader seeks.”

The tall man studied Yun-seon’s face. He had been at the Kang family massacre, the one who dragged Right Shadow away when their leader was slaughtered. Since leaving the Taiyi Divine Sect and forming the Black Butterfly Shadows, he had served the Black Butterfly Shadows as deputy leader.

“So it was you.”

Recognition dawned—though Yun-seon had grown, those fierce eyes and determined face were unchanged. Above all,

“It’s a miracle your arm is still attached.”

His blackened arm was proof he was that boy. Resting his chin in thought, the deputy finally signaled. The Shadows moved like butterflies, lifting wounded comrades and melting into darkness.

“If you try any tricks on the leader, I’ll cut your head off on the spot.”

The deputy seized Yun-seon’s sword and pushed him ahead—not down the mountain, but deeper into the woods. Above them, a full moon cast its pale glow.

When Hyeongjin’s group finally escaped, a figure in white ran toward them—Ju-un, returning from her errand for medicine.

“What happened?”

Seeing their battered state, she knew her fears had come true. Before any answer, she grabbed Hyeongjin by the collar.

“Where is Yun-seon?”

“Sajeo… I’m sorry.”

Hyeongjin explained the ambush but couldn’t admit he’d left Yun-seon to Do-pyeong—ashamed as leader to have abandoned two disciples.

“Sajeo! We barely escaped alive! Two brothers are gravely wounded and may die. If not for Eldest Sahyung, we’d all be dead! How can you disgrace him over Yun-seon?”

Ju-un glared at the disciple who dared speak, her eyes promising murder.

“Why should I care about your lives? Where is Yun-seon?”

The brothers all pointed back towards the mountain. Ju-un shoved the medicine into her sleeve and dashed into the darkness.

“You go to Gyejeong. I’ll return and bring back Do-pyeong and Yun-seon.”

Hyeongjin grabbed the least injured disciple and urged him.

“But, Eldest Sahyung!”

“Remember. Those two brothers’ lives depend on you.”

Hyeongjin bit his lip, looking at the dying brothers. Every life was precious to him. Shaking off the disciple trying to hold him back, he ran after Ju-un.

‘Maybe he’s still alive…’

Sweat—or was it tears?—streamed down his jaw without pause.

낙오 (落伍), Falling Behind:
Lagging behind the formation.