Forsaking The Self In Righteous Fury

The messenger pigeon reached Jo Yang, who was waiting at the Yeonhyang Inn, just as the sunset was fading away.

The report from Hyeongjin stated that, due to some suspicious circumstances, he had personally joined the Yunpyeong Escort Agency group and would depart this way after the Hour of the Ox¹.

“What a fool…”

Jo Yang’s face gradually hardened as he read the letter.

Unable to bear it, he crumpled the letter, tore it to shreds, then held his head in his hands, lost in thought.

Soon after, he hastily wrote another letter and rushed to the Yeonhyang Escort Agency.

“I need a courier to deliver this letter to Seoiguk (Cheonseoguk) immediately.”

There wasn’t a trace of composure left on his face.

The chief of the Yeonhyang Escort Agency was bewildered by the sight of the Alliance Leader’s flustered demeanor—something he had never seen before.

But Jo Yang paid no attention.

Dignity meant nothing now.

If this went wrong, everything he had protected until now would collapse.

“And I’ll also need to borrow a sturdy horse.”

It had been less than half a day since he received confirmation that a group of warriors from Seoiguk would meet them at the border.

Even if the letter arrived without delay, it would still take a full day for them to come.

For now, he had to go himself and buy as much time as possible.

‘Please, hold on. You must endure.’

As if to illuminate Jo Yang cutting through the darkness, the moonlight was unusually deep that night.

When Yong Jo barely regained consciousness, the scene before him was nothing short of hell.

Dozens of masked men were transferring captives into wagons as a merciless massacre unfolded around them.

Right in front of him, the black-clad Zhifu² Envoy was swinging a spear over nine feet long, cutting down anyone who entered his range without hesitation.

Beside him, a delicate, flower-petal-like woman wielded a pair of uniquely shaped swords, slaughtering without mercy.

Thinking this side was hopeless, Yong Jo turned his gaze to the opposite side.

His waist badly twisted, he couldn’t stand, so he crawled on all fours.

Thick, dark blood smeared across him, filling the air with a nauseating stench.

But now was no time to care about such trivialities.

The other side was no better—perhaps even worse.

Escort Chief Yang and five escorts were drenched in sweat as they struggled against Yi Seomun, who cheerfully swung his fan.

Fortunately, Escort Chief Yang’s skill was exceptional, sparing them from fatal wounds, but merely avoiding Seomun’s relentless strikes to vital points was already a feat.

‘What about the Bureau Master?’

Suddenly fearing for the Bureau Master’s safety, Yong Jo twisted his body to look back.

But the fragile hope shattered completely, leaving only despair.

The seven escorts who had followed them lay scattered along the retreat, while his master and old friend, Ma Cheong-ok, had died with his skull shattered.

In front of him stood a massive white-haired old man, glaring at him with a ferocious glare like the King of the Underworld.

With a devastated heart, Yong Jo looked around once more.

Aside from the masked men rescuing captives, there were only four true enemies.

Yet each one was fending off over a dozen allies, and even then it looked overwhelming.

It was only a matter of time before they were all dead.

Realizing there was no escape, his rage and resolve turned into raw terror.

Forget tribute—survival came first.

Yong Jo endured the pain searing through his bones and forced himself upright.

Then he began to run like mad.

‘I’ll break through the front.’

Seeing Yong Jo charging, Escort Chief Yang thought he was coming to help—but when he simply passed by and ran ahead, Escort Chief Yang was dumbstruck.

The head of Escort Chiefs, running to save only himself?!

His fury surged so high that he nearly allowed Yi Seomun’s fan to strike his vital point.

Unable to hold back, he hurled curses at Yong Jo with all his might.

“Hey, you bastard!”

But Yong Jo heard nothing.

Summoning every ounce of his life’s internal power into his waist and legs, he dashed forward like the wind for dozens of paces.

Each time he cut down what blocked his way, blood—friend or foe’s—splattered across his face.

Survival was his only goal.

“Pathetic. Your subordinates are pitiful to follow a head Escort Chief like you.”

At that moment, a plump, squat old man blocked Yong Jo’s path, clicking his tongue.

His narrowed eyes looked at Yong Jo with utter contempt.

“Has this old fool gone senile?”

Yong Jo raised his Flexible Sword diagonally and charged forward.

Against such a shabby old man, there was no need for techniques.

It was a crude, simple strike, but he poured over eighty percent of his power into it, aiming to kill in a single blow.

Clang!

“Huh?”

Strangely, the distance of just a few paces to the old man refused to close.

As a hot sensation rose from his waist, Yong Jo realized a large man in black garments was at his left.

“Jeok… Jeok-woo…?”

Though Virtuous Conduct was only half its length, it pierced through Yong Jo’s side with no difficulty.

He vomited blood and collapsed instantly.

The Flexible Sword never even reached the old man.

“Tsk, tsk. Cruel. Too cruel.”

Ma Sepung, who never enjoyed killing, furrowed his brow deeply.

Though he hadn’t failed to foresee this tragedy, he still felt genuine sorrow.

He had retreated to the mountains to avoid the endless bloodshed of kangho, yet old grudges had dragged him back into witnessing this repulsive carnage.

Meanwhile, Jeok-woo, with a blank expression, pulled Virtuous Conduct out from Yong Jo’s side.

Then he charged at the enemies like a raging boar.

When he swung Virtuous Conduct diagonally, hot winds gathered into a small whirlwind.

Through the rising cloud of pale dust, he stretched out his arm, and the sharp edge of Virtuous Conduct sliced through the throats of two escorts in succession.

“This must all be my karma…”

It seemed his mission was already fulfilled.

Was there truly anyone who could slip past the four masters flashing east and west with peerless skill?

There was no longer any reason to guard the front.

Letting out a long sigh, Ma Sepung suddenly grew curious about the other side of the battle.

How well could Yun-seon handle things with the skills he’d learned in just fifteen days?

He worried Yun-seon might be injured.

Before he knew it, he was leaping among corpses in search of his beloved disciple.

“Soul’s Eminence Sixth Form: Grain Rain!”

Yun-seon had unleashed as many as six seasonal forms, but still struggled against Hyeongjin.

His power was sufficient, but he couldn’t keep up with his opponent’s swift footwork, and his fist-forces missed by just an inch each time.

And gathering inner power multiple times had turned it into a drawn-out fight, exhausting his stamina.

“Twelve Forms of The Living Sword!”

Hyeongjin twisted his body to narrowly evade Yun-seon’s fist-forces while stabbing four times toward his acupoints.

But after over an hour of fierce battle, his focus had long since waned.

Not once among the four strikes did he land a potentially fatal blow on Yun-seon.

“Huff, huff.”

“Phew…”

Though it was a chilly autumn dawn, both men were drenched in sweat.

After each round of furious exchanges, a brief lull came for them to catch their breath.

All around was chaos, screams, and the stench of blood, but the two seemed sealed within an invisible barrier, focused solely on each other.

“Soul’s Eminence Fifth Form: Pure Brightness!”

Yun-seon was the first to break the silence.

The fifth form, Pure Brightness, was a technique that brought out maximum power through softness, and among what he had learned, it best suited channeling his inner energy.

By quickly opening his meridians, inhaling pure breath, and blending his stored Fire Qi with absorbed damp qi, it resonated with Stage 2 of the Taiyi Divine Art.

Yun-seon waited for the warmth below his dantian to dissipate and his chest to cool, then thrust out his right fist.

“Ugh, you blockhead. You need to bend your waist more and twist your wrist half a turn to hit the target properly.”

Ma Sepung had arrived nearby, squatting on the ground with his chin resting on his hand.

Though his mouth cursed, his face brimmed with pride.

‘What a disaster…’

Realizing that the interloper wasn’t on his side, Hyeongjin felt cold sweat trickle down his spine.

He was already struggling—if that old man joined in, he’d have no chance of victory.

In truth, the fact that Yun-seon’s skills had already caught up to his own was enough to make him feel small.

Having spent nearly a year chasing after a woman, making no progress in martial arts, only deepened his self-loathing.

As impatience grew, his mistakes multiplied.

“Half a step more to the left.”

But Ma Sepung found Hyeongjin’s presence both grateful and praiseworthy.

That was the nature of martial arts.

No matter how great the teacher or how talented the disciple, theory alone could barely unlock half of martial skill.

The best way was to meet and fight an outstanding opponent.

Thus, Baek Hyeongjin was now the best textbook Yun-seon could have.

“Hoho, the youngster has both inner and outer strength solidly built!”

Ma Sepung silently applauded Hyeongjin.

His fundamentals were strong, his skills without gaps.

Talent was one thing, but it was clear how much painstaking effort he himself had put in.

‘Our era is already ending.’

The more the two young men fought, the more their skills grew.

Though they met as enemies, in many ways each was the other’s best rival.

But no matter what, this duel seemed like it would be their last.

Hyeongjin, already mentally defeated, moved more and more sluggishly.

Confirming the tide had turned, Ma Sepung moved toward the wagons.

The finishing blow, he trusted, his brilliant disciple would handle himself.

“Ah!”

The sword that had swept toward Yun-seon’s left arm missed its mark and lodged instead into the tree behind him.

Hyeongjin hastily poured internal qi into it, but the blade lodged deep in the maple tree would not come free.

“Soul Eminent Rain Water!”

This could very well be the final strike.

Yun-seon gathered his internal energy into his left hand, staring at Hyeongjin’s face.

He had never once forgotten those sharp eyes that had tortured him with relentless questions.

There had been a time when he truly respected and followed him like a senior brother.

That was why the betrayal came back magnified, leaving a searing wound in his heart.

“Let’s end our ill-fated bond here.”

Yun-seon’s left fist swung wide toward the right side of Hyeongjin’s face.

If he didn’t hold back, Hyeongjin’s face would be crushed and his life ended.

“Yun-seon!”

Thud!

At the last moment, Yun-seon released the power he had gathered.

The fist, carrying not even half its power, struck his opponent’s face squarely but resulted only in a severe bruise.

Instead, hitting his temple precisely, it sent Hyeongjin collapsing into unconsciousness.

“Yun-seon!”

It wasn’t an illusion.

The voice he had long yearned for.

The voice of the woman he had never dared approach, carrying her only in his heart.

“Ju-un…”

Ju-un came running and fell into his chest.

His heart leapt with joy, but he didn’t dare embrace her.

He merely stood awkwardly, waiting for her to calm down.

The spot on his chest where her face pressed grew warm.

She was crying.

“I knew you’d still be alive.”

Hearing Ju-un’s trembling voice, it finally felt real.

How he had missed her.

But now was no time to cry together, nor to hold her.

“When this is over, I’ll come to Nine Moons Mountain without fail. So please let me go for now.”

At last, Ju-un stepped back and gazed at Yun-seon’s face.

Though only half a year had passed, he seemed like a completely different man.

“Yun-seon…”

With reluctant steps, Yun-seon left her standing there and ran back to his companions.

Already the eastern sky glowed with red light.

The longer they delayed, the greater the danger—he knew it better than anyone.

Most of the escort chiefs were dead or gravely injured and no longer a threat.

With only about twenty escorts left, they could not hold back the Taiyi Divine Sect masters.

Having cleared the enemies before him, Seomun approached a busy subordinate to ask about the situation.

“How many have been moved?”

“Only one wagon left.”

The cultist, his left arm deeply wounded, panted heavily.

Carrying limp, unconscious people was hard enough—fending off escorts at the same time left them all near collapse.

Yet driven by the mission to save their kin, they hardly noticed the hardship.

“The sun will rise soon.”

At Seomun’s signal, the remaining three gathered around the wagons.

The martial brothers worked together to load the remaining Ryeo citizens, while Sect Leader Seong Gon guarded from behind, doubling their speed.

It seemed the work would be done before the sun fully rose.

One hour later, at last thirty wagons split into four directions and began to move.

The road was narrow and rough, making the wagons rattle violently.

Still, their speed was decent; traveling this way for half a day would get them to the rendezvous point.

BOOM!

The thunderous explosion echoing through the forest froze everyone in place.

The first wagon on the left, just cresting the hill, suddenly lifted into the air and shattered, throwing out everyone inside.

Seomun rushed to it at once, but the driver and seven others had already died instantly.

“How dare you!”

A thunderous shout echoed, drilling into their ears.

The voice belonged to a man whose messy yellow beard covered his face like the mane of a wild beast.

“Damn…”

Though farthest away, Ma Sepung recognized the intruder’s identity most clearly.

Realizing that sly Jo Yang had even coaxed out someone who should never have been involved, uncontrollable fury spread through his body.

“Bu Neungpa… that foolish wretch…”

분의망신 (奮義忘身), Forsaking the Self in Righteous Fury:

Acting for the sake of righteousness without regard for one’s own safety.