Chapter 20

It was, simply put, a battle between living weapons. Even Beomjin, who had meant to stop Gyeonseok, found himself letting go and watching in a daze.

The first strike was obvious: Gyeonseok lunged straight for Guho’s throat. Empty-handed, no weapon in sight—until his loose sleeve snapped open and revealed a hidden spike.

The glint of metal flashed like fire, the point plunging toward Guho’s left eye so fast it felt like the tip would burst out the back of his skull.

Startled, Guho twisted his head at the last instant. His eyelid split open, blood spraying as he spun and flattened himself on the ground like a top gone wild.

“You filthy bastard! Kill him!!”

At his order, a swarm of beast-blooded rushed Gyeonseok. More than twenty split left and right to surround him, weapons already in their hands. Hammers, blades, pipes—they didn’t wait for turns. Attacks came from the front, side, and back, all at once.

But Gyeonseok met them with sharp, acrobatic movements, dodging and countering in seamless rhythm. With his spike-arm as both blade and shield, he cut their numbers one by one. The way he moved called to mind old Hong Kong action films, an acrobat warrior flowing through the chaos.

“What the hell is he?”

Even Guho seemed rattled, gaping at Gyeonseok holding off impossible odds.

Beomjin walked up and kicked the crouched “gorilla.”

“Hey. You and I still have something to settle.”

“Oh, right. Almost forgot.”

Hauling himself upright against the wrecked front of the car, Guho ripped the ruined sleeves from his arms and bared his bulging forearms. His grin was all teeth.

“Don’t think it’ll be like before. You’ll regret it.”

Veins bulged beneath his skin, writhing as if insects crawled inside his flesh.

“You sure you’re ready this time? Then let’s go again.”

Beomjin moved to the trunk of Guho’s wrecked car. The metal lid was dented and warped, but when he pressed down with his palm, it clicked shut flat enough to use.

He rested his right arm atop it.

“Round two. Same rules as before—the winner gets what he wants.”

“You’re kidding. An arm-wrestle? You really think you can win?”

“What, you scared?”

No more baiting was needed. Guho grabbed his hand without hesitation, veins standing out as hot air snorted from his nostrils. His biceps swelled like hills of flesh.

“You think one win means you’re better than me? You’re dead, you damn government mutt!”

“All bark, no bite.”

Guho’s breathing grew ragged, his jaws grinding audibly. Heat radiated off him in waves.

Beomjin picked up a small pebble.

“When this hits the ground, we start.”

The pebble flew high. Both men’s eyes tracked it. As it fell back to earth, Beomjin’s gaze slid to Guho, catching the twitch of his thick neck and bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Hrraaaagh!!”

Guho slammed his strength into their locked hands, face pressing close. He was far stronger than before—enough that a straight punch from him might’ve blacked out Beomjin instantly. At least, before Beomjin had awakened the Tiger’s blood.

On one side, Gyeonseok danced through blades and pipes. On the other, Beomjin and Guho locked hands in brutal arm-wrestling atop the trunk.

It was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet, with the desperation blazing in both men, no one could say for sure who would win.

“Uooorraaah!”

Guho twisted his whole body, forcing Beomjin’s arm outward bit by bit. That tiny shift was enough to feed him hope.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! You’re finished, bastard! Your arm’s about to snap!”

He whistled in glee, then looked up—locking eyes with Beomjin, who was smiling back.

“It’s over!!”

Bang!

Guho’s roar cut off as his arm slammed down. His thick hand dented the trunk deep inside.

“Guhhh! Aaaghhh! No, impossible!!”

His right elbow snapped. Guho writhed in agony, trapped hand jerking uselessly against the crushed metal.

“I win again.”

“No! No, I won’t accept it!!”

Tears, snot, and spit ran down his face. With a heaving breath, he clamped his other hand onto the trunk. His monstrous grip crumpled steel like foil. Groans and bangs rang out as he tore it free.

“Aaaagh! …Haa… haa! It’s not over! Not till I fall for good!!”

He roared like a beast, wielding the wrecked trunk as a makeshift shield. With his broken arm dangling and his shoulder twisted, he still charged Beomjin, thrashing the metal wildly.

Thoom! Boom!

The trunk smashed down again and again, kicking up dirt clouds. But no matter how frenzied, he couldn’t touch Beomjin, who slipped away each time, stoking Guho’s fury further.

“One strike… one strike is all it takes!!”

His swollen veins and bulging eyes made him look ready to collapse from sheer blood pressure.

“Where’s the fox? Tell me!”

Beomjin’s voice came from behind. Guho spun, slamming the trunk down—only for Beomjin to meet it with a brutal kick.

Crash!!

The trunk flew away, and Guho toppled after it. He hit the ground, clutching his shoulder, writhing like an overturned insect.

Beomjin stepped up, his shadow falling across Guho’s twisted face. Pinning down the dislocated shoulder with his foot, he bent close.

“Hey, Gorilla. You hear me?”

Guho slapped the dirt in agony.

“When a man talks to you, look at him. Or do you think I’m beneath you?”

Slowly, Guho lowered the arm shielding his face. The malice in his eyes had dulled, replaced by fear and pain.

“Where’s the fox?”

Guho swung his left arm, striking Beomjin’s leg, but the blow lacked force.

“You really won’t admit it, huh? Maybe I should rip this arm clean off.”

Beomjin yanked Guho’s ear upward, rough enough to tear it from his face. Guho groaned in pain, his body jerking from neck to chest to waist in pitiful spasms.

Beomjin whispered into the twisted gorilla’s ear.

“Dragon told you to get the fox’s bead, didn’t he?”

Guho’s eyes bulged as if he’d seen a ghost. His mouth opened and shut, but no sound came out.

“What, you think I’ve been chasing the fox blind? That I didn’t know?”

The more Beomjin pressed, the paler Guho’s face grew.

“Dragon’s sick, and what he needs most right now is the fox’s bead. That’s why you’ve been killing foxes left and right, isn’t it?”

“…What the hell are you?”

“What does it matter who I am? I asked where the fox is!!”

Beomjin pressed down, hard enough that Guho’s thick bones cracked under the strain. As his airways closed, Guho darted his gaze toward the hill path he’d come down. Beomjin caught it instantly.

“Samjok!!”

At his shout, Gyeonseok turned. He yanked his spike free from an enemy’s thigh and followed Beomjin’s nod.

That way.

Seeing the path up the hill, Gyeonseok ripped his weapon free and bolted, leaving the last six foes behind.

“What are you idiots doing?! You want to die too? After him!!”

Guho’s bellow sent the remaining beast-blooded racing after him. Then Guho laughed—a hollow, bitter, yet almost delighted chuckle.

“Hurry all you want, it’s already too late. The surgery’s over. The bead’s already—”

Crash!!

Beomjin’s boot smashed into Guho’s face mid-sentence, shattering his teeth and splitting his tongue. Leaving the broken man behind, Beomjin took off after Gyeonseok’s trail.

The path was littered with beast-blooded, each fallen like a milestone along the way.

The gentle slope led deeper into the woods until a white building came into view between the trees. A two-story structure, square blocks stacked like a pension built in recent years. But its few, narrow windows were barely big enough to vent air, and its weathered, decayed exterior made it look more like an abandoned ruin.

Bodies lay strewn at the entrance—proof enough that Gyeonseok was inside.

Beomjin froze thirty meters out. The stench hit him like a wall. Strong enough to drown out even beast scent: the acrid tang of chemicals, the iron bite of blood, and the rancid reek of rotting corpses.

It was like a graveyard unearthed, a stench so foul it roused the primal instinct to flee. How many lives had been snuffed out here? Even the trees and shrubs around the building seemed to stand like tombstones.

“Ha… damn it.”

Clamping his nose, Beomjin sprinted into the building.

“Samjokgu!!”

He called for Gyeonseok as he burst past the front hall, sweeping through the first floor without waiting for an answer. A trashed living room, messy rooms. Heading for the stairs, he caught a faint sound—coming from the bathroom beside them.

Inside lay another beast-blooded, beaten to a pulp, and beside him a half-opened hidden staircase. The tiles had been laid to conceal it, a secret door leading down.

From within, muffled whimpers.

Beomjin descended. The stairwell opened into a wide underground space, bright with harsh light and reeking of blood and chemicals. A nightmare laboratory. Beakers and flasks, scalpels and saws, syringes, gauze, surgical knives cluttered every surface. Cabinets lined with preserved specimens, skulls, femurs—the remains of butchered bodies.

Gyeonseok was in the smaller adjoining room, kneeling by a surgical table. And on that table lay Horyeon.

A wave of dizziness nearly toppled Beomjin. The floor was slick with blood. In the far corner, a beast-blooded in a green gown and surgical mask pressed himself against the wall, trembling.

Beomjin forced himself forward. Step by step, Horyeon’s body grew clearer. Eyes shut, her form was too much like what he’d seen before returning to the past.

“Am I… too late?”

Her weak voice broke the silence. Draped in a green surgical cloth, her skin looked deathly pale.

“We don’t know yet…”

Gyeonseok’s voice was low, eyes never leaving her.

“The bead was already taken out. Her chest was open, but her heart was still beating.”

“And the bead?”

“It’s inside her again. That bastard over there shoved it back in.”

Gyeonseok bit his lip.

Beomjin turned to the trembling beast-blooded in the corner. In his hand were surgical scissors. On the floor beside him lay a fallen suture needle and thread. Enough to piece together what had happened.

“She’ll live.”

Gyeonseok muttered to himself. Horyeon gave no response. Beomjin said nothing.