Struck On The Foot By The Axe You Trust

In response to the emperor’s decree that the Five Great Mountain Swords lead the campaign against Ryeo Nation, the only one who opposed was Ma Sepung.

“We are warriors, not politicians. State affairs have nothing to do with the martial world. Let the Yellow Stone Sect step away from this matter.”

From the beginning, he knew persuading everyone was impossible. So he only wished to pull the Yellow Stone Sect out of this cruel war. As sect leader, and with two disciples he cherished, he hoped they would understand. However—

“Sect Lord, is this not for the sake of our nation? How can only our Yellow Stone Sect oppose? I wish to join the Five Great Mountain Swords in sharing the nation’s glory.”

As many elders nodded at Bu Neungpa’s words, Go Yu-saeng, who had been quietly gauging the mood, also added a remark.

“Ryeo Nation has been a vassal of Gyeong Nation for centuries, yet they never served with proper respect. Worse, they acted ungratefully, constantly raiding our borders. Is this not the time to restore order?”

Ma Sepung trembled violently, his hand shaking on the armrest. No matter how he thought, he could not understand what drove them like this.

“Or perhaps, Sect Lord Ma, you hesitate due to personal ties?”

When Jo Yang turned back with a pitiful look, only then did Ma Sepung realize he had walked into a trap. His opinion had never mattered—he had not been summoned to discuss, but to be informed.

“Then I shall convey the esteemed opinion of the Yellow Stone Sect to the imperial court.”

Even then, Ma Sepung did not despair. If this could not be avoided, he resolved at least to prevent the most tragic outcome. Though he held no decision-making power now, in actual battle he swore to minimize harm. At the very least, he was certain the disciples he led would not act without compassion.

The conquest of Ryeo Nation began half a year later. The Five Great Mountain Swords captured Ryeo’s capital, Taebong, along with five key strategic towns. Among them, the Yellow Stone Sect was assigned Ryeo’s cultural center, Onsu.

“The king of Ryeo has already surrendered. We are here only to confirm that this land has a new master. Meet with the inspector, draft the edict, and then withdraw as quietly as possible. Under no circumstances are the common people to be harmed.”

Ma Sepung repeatedly reminded the thirty elders and disciples he had brought with him. Though all were intoxicated with victory, he was not overly worried. With Bu Neungpa, his right-hand man, and his most beloved disciple Jang Eun beside him, he was confident control could be maintained.

“Master, if the vanguard departs first, we’ll finish up and follow after.”

They had stayed in Onsu for only three days. Without suspicion, Ma Sepung left the rear guard under Bu Neungpa’s command and departed first. He trusted Jang Eun deeply, and with things going smoothly compared to other regions, his guard had loosened. But it was just after crossing one ridge—

“Sect Lord, there’s a fire behind us!”

At the disciple’s report, Ma Sepung’s vision went dark. The beautiful town had been swallowed by blazing flames. He retraced the entire half-day’s distance in terror, sweat pouring at the thought that his disciples might be hurt.

“Neungpa! Eun!”

Ma Sepung rubbed his eyes again and again, unable to believe the horrific sight before him. He kept denying it as a mirage, but the more he rubbed, the clearer it became.

“Eldest Sahyung!”

“Master?”

Now, no life remained here. The once beautiful and peaceful town had become one vast tomb. Blood from the scattered corpses dyed the stream running through the village a deep red.

“Wh…what…is… this…?”

Ma Sepung stammered, unable to utter even a word, standing dazed. Bu Neungpa and his men looked not panicked, but almost relieved. Covered head to toe in blood, they seemed like demons.

“Eldest Sahyung, this was unavoidable. They saw us only as invaders and would not bow even a little. Without showing them the superiority of our strength, we cannot fully subjugate Ryeo Nation.”

Bu Neungpa tilted his head and made excuses with a brazen face. His shameless attempt to justify himself with empty words was disgusting and revolting.

“Bury them all, and we return to the sect immediately. I will hold you accountable later.”

Ma Sepung fought desperately to keep his sanity. As sect leader, he could not lose his dignity. If he broke here, he would lose all control over them.

“Master, I understand your shock. But is not Uncle’s word correct? These are not people of Gyeong Nation. How can you value such lowly beings above your own? The weak are meat for the strong—that is war, that is the way of this world. Please, release your anger and see reality as it is.”

Ma Sepung looked down at his disciple Jang Eun, kneeling before him in appeal. This was the child who understood ten things when taught one, kind-hearted and polite, once thought destined to succeed the Yellow Stone Sect. Yet every word spilling from this beloved disciple’s mouth was so vile.

“The weak are meat for the strong?”

He tried his best to suppress his emotions, but the tremor in his voice could not be hidden. His next words would decide his disciple’s life or death. Praying that Jang Eun would not say it, Ma Sepung asked his beloved disciple one final question.

“Then why did you gouge out their eyes?”

Jang Eun, who had been bowing to the floor, let out a long sigh and slowly raised his head. His eyes showed neither regret nor guilt.

“They dared to look at us as if we were beasts. So tell me—who are the real beasts?”

Ma Sepung clenched his right hand and quietly gathered his internal energy. The one before him was no longer the disciple he had loved so dearly. Perhaps it was a fox in disguise, or a rat pretending to be human.

“Then die instead!”

As his master’s fist-force roared toward him, Jang Eun flinched in shock, raising both arms to shield his face. But if it landed, even survival would mean crippling injuries. Just as he thought it was over, Bu Neungpa’s right hand intercepted Ma Sepung’s punch.

“Eldest Sahyung! Please, that’s enough!”

With his left hand, he struck his senior brother’s right cheek hard. Though no internal energy was used, the sheer force made Ma Sepung’s face swell rapidly.

“What righteousness or ideals exist in war? Slaughter! War is nothing but killing and being killed. Did you not foresee this ending the moment we came here? Who here is truly the most disgusting one?”

Tears streamed down Ma Sepung’s face. He could not argue a single word. Could there ever have been a merciful war? He had been chasing nothing but an impossible dream. Foolish, pathetic.

Staggering away from the group, Ma Sepung picked up a sword lying on the ground and slashed deep into his own right wrist. Dark red blood dripped relentlessly, yet he felt no pain. Who had taught and raised those monsters? If regret had a starting point, it was that such a weak man as he had ever learned martial arts at all.

“Uhhhhh… hhhk…”

Ma Sepung began to sob aloud, without shame. Once all the blood drained from his body, he would collapse somewhere and die—so be it. Hope, regret, any attachment to life—he felt like nothing but a hollow shell.

“Fa… father…”

It was when he reached the village entrance. A frail voice, as if about to die, reached Ma Sepung’s ears as he wandered the streets like a madman. Something struck him, and he began digging through the piles of corpses nearby. It was surely a living person’s voice.

“Found you!”

A boy of about ten, covered head to toe in blood, was sobbing as he clutched at his father’s jacket. His body seemed moments away from collapse, yet his gestures radiated fury.

“Boy!”

Ma Sepung pulled the child from the embrace of a corpse already cold, and was struck by yet another shock. Those monsters had gouged out even this innocent child’s eyes—simply because they disliked being looked at.

“Father…”

The boy, clasped tightly in Ma Sepung’s arms, beat his chest weakly with small fists. There was no strength in the blows, yet the sorrow and pain made Ma Sepung’s heart feel like it would burst.

“Child, I will help you take revenge. But you must live. You must survive.”

Ma Sepung hid the boy tightly against his chest and ran with all his might. He had to save the child. That alone had now become his reason to live.

“I-Jeong, you weak bastard… If you sought revenge, you should have taken heads, not just eyes! Because of you, I nearly died as well. Damn you…”

On the ground, Ma Sepung’s face bore a peaceful smile. At last, he had severed the long chain of grievance and enmity. Now he could die without regret.

“Master!”

Yun-seon’s anguished cry rang out from afar. Ah, right—there was that boy too. Ma Sepung’s heart swelled with strange pride. His dream of raising not monsters but true people… perhaps that child would fulfill it.

“Master, you cannot leave us like this.”

Yun-seon cradled Ma Sepung’s face and wept bitterly. He had only just found a true master, grown deeply attached, and could not bear to suffer another farewell. Short though it was, he had truly respected this new teacher. He could not possibly let him go this way.

“Good grief, boy! You’ll burst my eardrums! I’m not dying that easily!”

Seomun swiftly pressed an acupoint to staunch the bleeding, and the flow from Ma Sepung’s side gradually slowed. Fortunately, the blade had missed his organs, sparing him a fatal wound. However—

“Yun-seon, Sect Lord Ma has suffered severe internal injuries. At this rate, it’s dangerous.”

As Yun-seon panicked and shifted, Hyunjin approached and gently embraced his shoulders.

“Leave this place to us. You must take Sect Lord Ma to Seol. That child surely has a way.”

It pained them to send this tender-hearted boy alone, but at this point it was the best option. The fact that Seong Gon, who had followed Go Yu-saeng, had yet to return was already a bad sign. If they lingered here, Jo Yang—or another master—might appear to interfere.

“Hyunjin is right. Can you do it?”

When Seomun asked anxiously, Yun-seon nodded firmly. If it was Seol, she could save his master. This thought filled his mind completely. There was no time left to hesitate. Hoisting the half-conscious Ma Sepung onto his back, Yun-seon bound him tightly to himself with the rope Hyunjin handed him.

“Master, I will save you.”

Seol had said she would be waiting at Yellow Stone Mountain. After a brief bow to his seniors, Yun-seon set off toward Unpyeong, where she was. His lightness skill was not extraordinary, but he prided himself on stamina that lagged behind no one’s. Three days of nonstop running through the mountains would be enough.

“Come, let’s hurry as well.”

Under Seomun’s orders, all members of the Taiyi Divine Sect worked together to load the remaining twenty wagons with Ryeo captives. After being confined for so long, their nutrition and hygiene were in ruins. If they did not reach their destination quickly, their lives could not be guaranteed.

The sun was nearly at its zenith. Once the last three wagons departed, this grueling journey would finally near its end. Jeok-woo sniffled, his heart swelling. Leaving behind the bodies of a dozen Ryeo people who had given their lives for their homeland in this foreign land, without burial, weighed heavily on him.

“May you go to a better place.”

Jingun bowed deeply toward them, remaining still for a long while. Seomun and Hyunjin each offered their own form of mourning for the noble sacrifice.

“Scatter in different directions to guard the wagons. We’ll regroup at the midway base, An-ak.”

When Seomun extended his hand, the others each placed their right hands on top of his in turn. This could well be their last time together. Each mission carried that same solemn weight. Looking at one another’s faces, they prayed and prayed they would meet again.

“Already finished?”

At that moment, a piercing voice tore through the mountains, echoing back to shake the minds of all survivors.

“Who’s there?”

Jeok-woo thundered in reply, and from the main road toward Yeonhyang, the shapes of three figures gradually emerged. Behind them, a force numbering in the dozens swiftly surrounded them.

“Us? We are emissaries of the great Cheonseo Nation. No—no, that’s not it. We are emissaries of the Yellow Springs, come to drag you all to the hells of Yama!”

지부작족 (知斧斫足), Struck on the Foot by the Axe You Trust:

To be betrayed by those you rely on.