The Nature Of Betrayal (4)

Bae Ji-sang set down the unconscious Song Seok-jin and caught his breath. Jo Gwang-yeong also lowered the old man Kang, whose neck he had been steadying.

“Sorry about that.”

The old man apologized, embarrassed to have been carried by Jo.

Jo gave him a crooked grin—a rare, awkward smile he almost never wore. It was the kind of sight one only saw when escaping an enemy encirclement had put him in high spirits.

Heavenly Poison Grove fighters ringed the forest completely. The party could fend off their raids with relative ease, but there was no hole to slip through.

Neung Je-gang left the defense to the others and hurried to the cliff base. But Majil’s tunnel—where it ought to have been—was nowhere in sight.

…Damn.

His heart dropped. Had Majil been caught? Or buried while digging? If so, they were truly trapped in this forest.

‘Do we wait for night and start killing our way out?’

If they held the line until dark, Je-gang’s assassination arts could clear a path—and they might escape.

“Hahaha! Is this as far as you can run?”

Yang Wi-ryeong reappeared. Je-gang slipped back to the others’ position and took the front.

The two faced each other with a single tree between them at the edge of the stand. If either chose to, that tree would pose no obstacle.

Yet neither struck first. Each knew the other was no easy foe.

“Yang Wi-ryeong, I have questions.”

“Secret Shadow, is it? Speak.”

“There are Dorim’s disciples here—and people of the Martial Alliance. Are you prepared to bear what comes after?”

“Hah! They all die here anyway. This is a place with no chance of escape. I don’t need to care whose disciple or whose child they are.”

“If you’re that confident, one more thing: is the Lord of the Hall of Ten Thousand Sounds also your subordinate?”

“Hah! That dullard? Don’t speak to me of him. Give him information and he clutches it to himself. His stupidity helped my plan succeed, though. He’s probably still wondering if this ‘Banwon’ even exists. Hahaha!”

“…Hmm.”

Je-gang’s guess had been wrong. There was no collusion between Yang and the Hall Lord.

Perhaps Yang lied—but to people as good as dead, why bother?

“Oh—and if you’re thinking you can hold out here until the second wave arrives, don’t. They’re not coming.”

Those words singed the hearts of Jo Gwang-yeong and Bae Ji-sang. Je-gang hadn’t counted on reinforcements, but both of them had imagined he brought them into the woods to wait for the second wave.

“Why? What happened to them?”

“Hahaha! The moment you entered the mountain, your second wave heard this: the Namnyeong Branch of the Black Alliance was annihilated by the Necromancer Cult. They raced to Namnyeong at once.”

Je-gang nodded. For that, troops had to turn back. With the Necromancer Cult—the Black Alliance’s greatest enemy—on the move, no one would sacrifice the larger war for personal revenge.

“That stratagem came from the woman with you, didn’t it?”

Je-gang probed. If anyone could set the Cult in motion, it was likely the Fox, not Yang himself.

“Oh? Hah. How did you know? You’ve met her?”

“I don’t know the woman—but I know someone who calls her the Fox. He told me to go give that Fox a beating.”

Perhaps the woman knew who had given her that nickname. If this reached her ears, the rift between the Taepyeong Pavilion mistress and the Fox might deepen.

A slim hope, at best.

“Truly Secret Shadow. I know you meddled with the Cult on behalf of the Martial Alliance. The Necromancer Cult receives more intelligence than even the Beggar’s Sect. You shouldn’t have antagonized them. No one can beat them. Martial Alliance? Black Alliance? Hah! Do you think either can stand against the Cult? Even as we speak, their numbers grow. No force in the world can stop them now. And you will be their constant target—from here on. Even if by some ghostly trick you crawl out of this place alive.”

“They’re coming for me? Good. The more they come, the more of them I’ll cut down.”

They couldn’t take Je-gang by ambush. The Cult didn’t understand that. Their focus on him was exactly what he wanted.

“Ah—night is falling already. Time to finish this, don’t you think?”

“You have a way to crack us? With that rabble you trained?”

As long as the forest stood as their shield, the Grove’s assaults were no threat. In a forest like this, Je-gang was nigh-invincible.

“Let’s end it.”

Je-gang said. Yang ignored him—then suddenly shouted.

“Waaaah!”

The Grove’s fighters howled, advancing on the trees. Several hefted torches, ready to throw.

“Incendiary tactics!”

Bae Ji-sang’s voice shook behind him.

Of course it was fire. In their place, Je-gang would burn the woods too.

“—!”

“Ugh!”

But a worse problem rose from inside the trees—the sounds of choking breath.

“Y-you…?”

Bae Ji-sang shouted in shock.

Je-gang turned. Fury kindled in his eyes—another betrayal stood before him.

Bae Ji-sang, out of friendship, had hauled Song Seok-jin on his back through the escape and the sprint.

That friendship shattered.

Bae Ji-sang lay crumpled—his points sealed. The old man Kang’s throat was clutched in Song Seok-jin’s hand; one more squeeze and he’d be gone.

It had been a mistake. Song Seok-jin had awakened—and, like Cheong Yeon once had, belonged to Yang’s command structure.

Before Cheong led the Bloody Vein Unit, Song Seok-jin had been its captain; the unit belonged to the Iron-Blood Sect.

Jo Gwang-yeong tensed to strike. Cheong Yeon, too, fixed on Seok-jin’s life.

But Seok-jin ignored the others. His gaze locked on Je-gang.

“You dote strangely on this old man, don’t you? Heh. If you want him to live, drop your weapon and surrender. Also—where’s that woman and the bastard who punched me?”

He read the room poorly. No matter how sorry Je-gang felt toward the old man, the whole party wouldn’t die for his sake.

And, above all, Seok-jin stood at the very center. If he killed the old man, he would die with him—he failed to see it.

Meanwhile, Go So-jeong lay hidden, poised to ambush.

“Woman! Show yourself, or I’ll snap the geezer’s neck this instant.”

Seok-jin shook the old man by the throat.

“Nngh!”

Go So-jeong dropped her concealment and stepped out; the twin daggers in her hands looked ready to spring.

“Elder… forgive me.”

Je-gang meant it. The old man had guided them and taught them how to survive this jungle—another teacher. Now his life dangled on a thread.

“Enough babble. Drop everything.”

Seok-jin’s demand carried clearly even beyond the trees.

Odd, though. In a moment like this, an external assault would be hard to block—men would have to peel away to contain Seok-jin.

Yet Yang only watched, eyes bright with interest, as if enjoying a game. He gave Seok-jin no orders, not even to flee the treeline. He treated him like a sacrificial stone in baduk—deliberately thrown away.

“Song Seok-jin! Do you think threatening the old man will make me lay down my life?”

Je-gang walked forward slowly toward Seok-jin and the old man. If needed, he would end Seok-jin in a flash with One-Finger Piercing or a hidden dart like the Golden Bell Darts.

“D-don’t come any closer.”

At last, Seok-jin sensed the tide wasn’t what he’d imagined.

“My lord! Why aren’t you attacking?” he shouted for Yang to hear.

Yang didn’t bother to answer.

“Tch. No head for this. If you kill a couple and slip out yourself, that’s one thing—but you got greedy…”

Yang saw through him. Seok-jin had taken a hostage to seize all the credit alone.

But hostage-taking carried risk: the instant the enemy abandoned the hostage, your own life was forfeit.

“Throw the fire!”

At last, Yang gave the order.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Torches arced into the trees. At first, flames struggled to catch; then, as more torches flew, fire began to take.

“N-no way…”

Seok-jin seemed stunned.

He never dreamed they’d torch the woods with him inside.

Je-gang clicked his tongue.

So ended a traitor—only now did Seok-jin grasp he’d been discarded.

“Aaaaah! No! Yang Wi-ryeong! You dog—how dare you abandon me! Abandon me—!”

Eyes bloodshot, Seok-jin howled and thrashed. Betrayal begot betrayal—retribution.

But the old man’s peril worsened—and so did the party’s. Fire spread fast.

Thud.

Thk.

“Cough! Cough!”

Suddenly, the raving Seok-jin pitched forward. His hand slipped from the old man’s throat.

The old man fell to his hands and knees, hacking—dragged back from the brink.

“Chief—heh-heh! I’m a bit late, yeah?”

“Majil!”

They had never been happier to see him.

“Heh! The soil here is a real pain, so I’m late. Huh—no one dead yet?”

He sounded almost disappointed, and the looks he got killed the mood instantly.

“Move!”

At Je-gang’s word, Majil led toward the tunnel he’d finally opened.

“My apologies.”

Jo shouldered the old man again. He felt guilty—he had been right there, yet Seok-jin had made him a hostage. Who could have guessed a man who’d been limp would pull that?

At the rear, Je-gang glanced at Song Seok-jin. In truth, the man was pitiful—cast aside by the master he’d served.

But pity wouldn’t save him. Je-gang sealed his points, stuffed a blade in his hand, and propped him against a tree.

When the flames reached this spot, even Yang would hear a scream fit to rip the sky—the agony of burning alive.

If that convinced them the party had perished and halted pursuit, so much the better. And even if they realized the escape, it would be long after.

Ironically, Yang’s fire attack was his mistake. If there had truly been no way out of the woods, it would have been the surest method. But with Majil’s tunnel, it was the worst choice.

Until the fire fully died, no one could know who lived. While they checked, the party would flee far.

“Majil! Light it up.”

As Je-gang guided the party’s withdrawal, Majil conjured compact fire orbs and tossed them about. Even if the Grove’s flames guttered out, no one would enter before the forest finished burning.

After taking everything they could, the party slipped through Majil’s tunnel and out of the Heavenly Poison Grove’s lair. All that remained was to cross Mount Aenae and sprint for the Black Alliance.

But everything on Aenae was now their enemy. Even the Miao might need watching—lest word of their survival reach Yang Wi-ryeong.

For that, they needed the old man Kang’s help once more. The party crawled hard through Majil’s tunnel.