Flying Dragoon Thirteenth Unit (5)

The night of a new moon with no moonlight.

It happened to be the night our squad drew the night patrol.

Even for veterans who had spent years on the front line, night patrols were always nothing but a string of tension.

In the pitch-darkness lurked fiends like the Hyo-gwi, and from time to time Blood Cult warlords who hunted our members to drain essence or to sate lust; even for masters at the Pinnacle Realm, they were plenty threatening.

Only our squad was a little different.

Because we had Captain Seol Pung.

“Hold.”

When Captain Seol Pung, leading us at the front, murmured low, we all froze in place and scanned our surroundings.

He murmured again.

“Hyo-gwi.”

The instant his words ended, a fiend sprang out of the darkness without a sound.

Whap!

Had we been caught unawares, it would have been an incredibly dangerous ambush.

But the creature that launched itself at us had its head burst like a melon mid-flight.

Splat!

Captain Seol Pung’s footwork shot out far faster than the Hyo-gwi, smashing its head like a watermelon.

In that sliver of an instant, he slew one Hyo-gwi and returned, then spoke to us.

“Condition clear. There are no more.”

No matter how many times I saw it, it was reassuring as a fortress.

Even as a man, I could fall for him.

For Captain Seol Pung—who trained blindfolded even in daylight—night patrols were no different from any other patrol.

Vice-Captain Na Seoyu and Lady Cheon Jueun smiled brightly and spoke to him.

“Good work again today, Captain.”

“You’re the best, Captain! So cool, Captain!”

At their words, Captain Seol Pung visibly panicked and waved his hands.

“Ah, n-no. C-cool, what cool. It—it’s nothing. L-let’s keep moving!”

He said that and fled back to the lead like he was running away; Na and Cheon tittered. In truth, it wasn’t “like he ran”—we all knew he really did.

A dopey look that perfectly erased the dashing scene from moments ago.

If not for that woman-phobia, the Captain would be perfect.

Raised training in the mountains since childhood, Captain Seol Pung found dealing with women extremely difficult.

No—“difficult” wasn’t right. “Terrifying” was more accurate.

Because of that, I couldn’t tell whether to lament that he wasn’t perfect—or be relieved he was at least human.

A memory surfaced.

Even in my previous life, he only grew out of that after someone died.

I shook my head at the bitter recollection.

In this life, I’d make sure that doesn’t happen.

And to do that, I first had to deal with the one who caused it.

I glanced back at the junior brother, the “Serpent of Diancang,” no—at the Moment-Serpent, Point-Spear Viper… (ugh) at Sword-Serpent of Diancang, Juchang… kidding—at Sword-Serpent of Diancang Ju Taegyeong (Pointed Spear Viper), and the toadies following him far behind us.

Refusing to acknowledge Captain Seol Pung, Ju Taegyeong always trailed separately with his flunkies like that.

If he truly had confidence, he could have gone ahead of us, but he always skulked in the rear.

A snake through and through.

Not that it meant all danger was gone.

Before Cheong-yeon and I arrived, two had fallen to a Spider-gwi because they were acting like that and got hit from the rear.

As I watched them, Bi Sayoung asked me,

“In two weeks you’ll face that guy. Confident?”

“Who knows. Confidence? Not really. I’m just working hard.”

“Tch! What kind of answer is that? Make minced meat of him. I believe in you.”

From the front, Captain Seol Pung’s voice slipped into the talk before we realized.

“If their internal power were equal, Jin would clearly be superior in skill. The problem is internal power. If only you had at least half a Jiazi so you could use blade-energy.”

“Mm.”

Indeed, internal power was the problem.

Right now I had maybe twenty to thirty years’ worth. Considering you needed at least thirty years to manifest Sword-Qi, it would be hard to solve in just two weeks.

Vice-Captain Na Seoyu asked with a worried face,

“Even then, not everyone who passes thirty years of energy can emit Sword-Qi, right? You have to gain an insight and cross the wall of ‘Sword-Qi Manifestation.’”

She was right.

If the wall of First-Class was Sword-Qi Manifestation, and the wall of Pinnacle was Weapon Qi (Self-forged Steel), some said forming Weapon Qi is easier than Sword-Qi, while others said the opposite.

Of course, that didn’t apply to me—I had already crossed the sword-qi wall in my last life.

Lady Cheong-yeon answered for me.

“That part’s fine. Young Master Seonu’s mind has already surpassed First-Class—it’s just his internal power that’s not there yet. He’s a strange one.”

…Sharp as ever.

Bi Sayoung pressed again, exasperated.

“Feels like you’ve got something up your sleeve. Can’t you just spit it out? It’s only us here.”

Hm, should I say it first?

They’d all find out in two weeks anyway, and everyone here could be trusted.

After a moment, I decided to tell them.

“Before I came, Father gave me an elixir. Roughly worth ten years of internal power.”

Actually, I had two—but I’d keep one secret.

Bi Sayoung brightened.

“Oh, great. Then just take it now?”

Captain Seol Pung spoke,

“Is it a purity issue? Too much foreign qi?”

At his keen question, I answered wryly.

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“If I take it now, about half of my total would be foreign.”

“Hmm.”

Captain Seol Pung fell silent with a grave face. Lady Cheon Jueun, who hadn’t followed the talk, asked,

“What are you talking about? Am I the only one who didn’t get it?”

Seeing the Captain’s faintly troubled look, Lady Cheong-yeon explained in his stead.

“If foreign qi exceeds half your total, the risk of going ‘mad from qi deviation’ jumps. I think Young Master Seonu is saying if he takes it now, that could happen.”

“Ah, qi deviation.”

Right.

That’s why I’d put off taking it.

Thanks to the superb function of the Chaos-Origin Infinite Art, my internal power was refining toward purity quickly; I planned to take the elixir when it was safer.

If Ju Taegyeong jumped to upper First-Class soon I might reconsider, but with him still mid First-Class, I figured I could manage.

Lady Cheon Jueun put a finger to her lips and mumbled,

“Hmm, I thought elixirs were just good, but there are downsides.”

When the petite, baby-faced Cheon Jueun did that, she was devastatingly cute.

We all smiled; then Bae Jonggwan—fatally weak to cute things—couldn’t help chiming in.

“I, I’ve never taken that sort of thing either, Lady Cheon.”

She grinned and replied,

“Oh? Then you’re like me, Lord Bae.”

“Guh!”

Clutching his chest, Bae Jonggwan staggered; we all shook our heads and looked away.

Vice-Captain Na changed the subject.

“Anyway, we’re going to be busy. Seonu’s bout is coming, and right after that the Alliance Lord and the Blood Demon will hold a summit. It feels odd. We’ve fought fiends nonstop out here—I’ve never sat through events like that.”

Right, there was that, too.

Roughly a month after my duel with Ju Taegyeong, the Martial Alliance and the Blood Cult held a summit—of all places, here with the Thirteenth Flight.

Alliance Lord ‘King of Chivalry’ Mo Yong-geom would meet the Blood Cult’s Sect Lord ‘River-Severing Blood Demon’ Jeon Mugwang; many worried it would turn into a second Great Purge War rather than a conference.

But from my last life, they surprisingly met peacefully, talked, and parted ways.

Bi Sayoung grumbled,

“Tch, just thinking of that blowhard Vice-Chief Heon Yeongbo trying to curry favor makes my skin crawl. Why the hell are they holding it with the Thirteenth?”

We all nodded.

Eager to impress higher-ups and escape here, the vice-chief was already screeching about sprucing up the base and cleaning everything.

Then Cheong-yeon, who never cared about conversational flow when she had a question, suddenly asked,

“But isn’t it strange? If having over half your power be foreign qi risks qi deviation, how are Blood Cult warlords—who mostly build internal power by draining others’ essence—still alive?”

“Uh?”

“Now that… you mention it?”

Usually Cheong-yeon’s questions chilled the air, but this one landed.

Honestly, I was curious too.

Right—most of those guys built power by absorbing others’ vital essence. How were they fine?

We all mulled it over, but sadly none of us knew the answer.

The next day, while the rest of the Seventh Squad gathered to train, the Sword Viper of Diancang Ju Taegyeong was also absorbed in practice.

“Haaaap!”

Shuaaa!

A pale Sword-Qi thrust forward like a spearpoint, piercing the air.

He looked every inch a disciple of the once-great Diancang Sect.

Squad Four’s Captain, Diancang’s Sword Ma Yugyeom, watched and nodded.

“Having a target does speed growth. You’ve improved. You can call yourself upper First-Class now.”

Ju Taegyeong cupped his fists.

“Thank you, Senior Brother—acting Head. It’s all thanks to your guidance.”

The Diancang Sect had no formal Head now. But calling Ma Yugyeom “Senior Brother Head” didn’t sound odd to either of them.

Ma Yugyeom was the third-strongest among the Diancang disciples fighting for vengeance on the front line, and he was the son of the late Head Ma Wonung, slain by the Blood Cult.

Had the sect survived, he would have been the next Head.

With that background, ability, and a face as fine as carved jade, his influence in the Flight was immense.

Not only in the Thirteenth—other Flights knew him as a leader with throngs of supporters.

Ma Yugyeom spoke again.

“Some of the men are babbling about that guy—‘Iron Meteor,’ ‘Steel Falling Star’—but I don’t think you’ll lose to a mere Second-Class. Still, don’t be satisfied with merely not losing. Show overwhelming dominance befitting a Diancang disciple. Understood?”

“Yes, Senior Brother!”

Ma Yugyeom recalled his first meeting with that insolent Seonu Jin.

When Seonu Jin, Cheong-yeon, and Cheon Jueun first arrived and all captains gathered to assign squads, he had actually tried to bring Seonu into his own.

Though the first impression—so fat you frowned—was poor, he heard Seonu and Cheong-yeon had slain a Hyo-gwi just the day before, and his interest was piqued.

“Greenhorns took down a Hyo-gwi?! Truly?”

Seonu tried to lower himself with an embarrassed smile.

“That blind fiend was slain by Lady Cheong-yeon here. A mere Second-Class like me couldn’t do anything.”

In truth he wished to avoid Ma Yugyeom’s attention. But to Ma Yugyeom, the humility looked admirable.

Quite appealing.

Then Lady Cheong-yeon said,

“My martial level may be higher, but it was Young Master Seonu who saved my life by smashing the fiend with a chair, and who pried open its eyelid so it would open its mouth. All I did was thrust Sword-Qi into the mouth he opened, as told.”

Ma Yugyeom couldn’t help but be impressed.

A man who hadn’t even faced fiends—only Second-Class—approached one at risk of death and pried open its eye?

And when asked how he knew the Hyo-gwi was weak to light, he answered he had gathered information in advance for the front.

Given info was strictly controlled, one could imagine the effort it took.

No more hesitation.

Second-Class, but worth raising.

Ma Yugyeom said with satisfaction,

“Knowing its weakness and actually prying the eyelid are worlds apart. Your preparation is excellent, your courage better. I like you. Chief, I’ll take him into Squad Four. We have a vacancy.”

The Squad Leader, Storm Blade Pung Yang, was about to nod when—

“No!”

The boy shouted.

At the abrupt refusal, Ma Yugyeom’s face hardened.

“What? No?”

His mood soured instantly.

Refuse the offer of a man whose clout rivaled the Chief, who would have been Head of Diancang? Unforgivable.

He glared and growled,

“Are you saying you won’t enter my squad?”

Even Seonu was flustered.

He didn’t like Ma Yugyeom, but making an enemy of someone with that many followers right off the bat was too much.

For a heartbeat he stared, then suddenly snapped his head toward Captain Seol Pung, lounging in a corner.

“Captain Seol Pung! From the moment I gathered intel about the front, I wanted to join your squad! Please take me!”

Seol Pung blinked and pointed to himself.

“M—me?”

Seonu nodded fervently and cried with blazing eyes and voice,

“Yes! To crush fiend skulls with fists when Sword-Qi won’t cut! The moment I heard that, I vowed to join Captain Seol Pung and learn fist-and-palm arts!”

A lie, of course.

In his past life, even when Seol Pung offered, he refused to learn fist arts.

Back then, fighting fiends bare-handed felt too crude—and too terrifying.

But Ma Yugyeom didn’t know that. He scoffed, unwilling to lose a prospect to Seol Pung of all people.

“Ha! Refusing the son of Diancang’s Sect Leader to join the shabby Seventh? The third son of noble House Seonu of Guizhou, choosing to train with riffraff from minor clans and ‘patent-medicine strongmen’?”

The Seventh was indeed filled with nobodies—by power and pedigree.

Ma Yugyeom thought that if he laid out the contrast, Seonu Jin would come around.

Instead, the words made Seonu Jin flare.

He’d insulted his old squad from his past life.

Seonu Jin started blurting whatever came to mind, hot-blooded.

“Fist arts! I absolutely want to learn them! I want to see whose skin is tougher, mine or the Blood Cult’s fiends!”

A blazing lie.

Back then, the only friend he’d looked down on was Bae Jonggwan, who obsessed over external arts.

But the reckless gambit worked.

Ma Yugyeom’s eyes went aghast, while Seol Pung’s lit up as he sprang to his feet.

“Fine spirit! To slay fiends with fists! Good, Young Master Seonu! Come with me! I’ll forge your body tougher than a fiend’s!”

Seonu Jin answered on cue, voice ringing,

“Yes, Captain Seol Pung!”

Two fools in perfect harmony—Ma Yugyeom could only give up.

To press further would wound his pride.

Yet even surrendering Seonu Jin, his pride took another blow.

The ladies he’d planned to take instead—Cheong-yeon and Cheon Jueun—also refused him.

Just recalling it made him seethe.

Worse, the boy had already distinguished himself—and not alone. He was lifting the combat value of those “riffraff” of the Seventh—Bi Sayoung, Bae Jonggwan—right along with him.

‘I should have dragged him into my squad by force.’

Grinding his teeth, Ma Yugyeom barked to Ju Taegyeong,

“Make him taste bitter defeat! Carve into his bones what Diancang is!”

“Yes, Senior Brother Head! Leave it to me!”

Ju Taegyeong thought the reminder unnecessary. He had no intention of letting Seonu Jin live.

A mere Second-Class dared mock a noble Diancang disciple?

Only blood could pay for that.

His eyes gleamed dangerously.

As Ma Yugyeom turned to leave, he paused and added,

“Call me overly cautious, but don’t kill him or maim him badly.”

Ju Taegyeong blurted,

“Wh—what?!”

Ma Yugyeom’s eyes chilled.

“Why so startled? Were you thinking of murdering a comrade who fights fiends with us?”

“N—no! I only thought… to teach a proper lesson…”

A savage aura flared off Ma Yugyeom.

Fwoooosh!

He stared with killing intent and said,

“Ju Taegyeong, our paramount task is to crush the Blood Cult and reclaim our mountain. Have you forgotten?”

“Never, Senior Brother!”

“For that great purpose, we must cooperate—even with riffraff of the demonic paths. How much more so with comrades who fight the Blood Cult at our side? However snake-like you are, I trust you’re not deranged. Understood?!”

“Y—yes! Of course, Senior Brother!”

Under that icy gaze, Ju Taegyeong could only sweat.

The stature of a future Sect Head—and that of a man nicknamed “the Serpent”—were worlds apart.