In front, Deungyonggok, who was swinging the Gyorongpyeon, sensed something strange.
He could feel an unusual aura from behind.
Soon after, accompanied by a crash of thunder, something like a small flying dagger zipped through the air.
The distance was nearly thirty jang, but for a master like Deungyonggok, it was plain as day.
“What in the world…”
Deungyonggok grabbed the end of the Gyorongpyeon, halting its motion, and turned around.
In the distance, he could hear explosions, roars, and screams filling the air.
The subordinates, too, sensed the oddity.
The unit wavered.
At the same time, shouts rose from the center and both flanks.
The Hwanggeum Family warriors, who had only been pushed back so far, suddenly shouted as they charged.
The left and right wings of the Hwanggeum Family, which had spread widely, abruptly closed the distance, rushing toward the center.
Deungyonggok, who stood in the very heart of the formation, felt chills run across his skin.
Such well-tempered murderous intent and perfect coordination.
He had, in fact, felt it vaguely before.
Their defensive combined formation was not at the level of the Hwanggeum Family.
“Where is this support coming from?”
Even the dull Deungyonggok realized these were not warriors of the Hwanggeum Family.
Once you cross blades, any martial artist would know.
For now, action came first.
Deungyonggok quickly surveyed east, west, south, and north.
Enemy troops were crashing in from the front and both sides.
The Jusampa warriors, already unsettled by the disturbance at their rear, now became even more disordered by the sudden counterattack.
The main force of Jusampa had no choice but to suffer psychological pressure, being attacked from all directions.
If Jusampa kept their blades facing forward and fought as before, it would be more effective, but their attention was already split to the rear, making that impossible.
“Retreat! Fall back, all of you!”
Deungyonggok decided swiftly.
The moment he made up his mind, he spun and sprinted to the rear.
The subordinates of Jusampa did their best to clear a path for the Munju, but, pressed from left and right, space was limited.
Anyone in Deungyonggok’s way was ruthlessly knocked aside and would never rise again.
The formation was rapidly closing in on itself.
“Die, you damn demonic bastards!”
“We are the Cheongmu Unit of the Murim Alliance! You sons of dogs!”
The charging forces roared as they surged forward.
The Jusampa warriors fell instantly into chaos.
To think the people they believed were Hwanggeum Family martial artists were, in fact, Murim Alliance warriors.
But there was no time to ponder.
Blue sword energy flashed from every blade, painting the battlefield in wild colors.
Kwakwang!
The intensity was on a completely different level from before.
This time, attack met attack.
The Murim Alliance Cheongmu Unit, having been forced to defend so far, fought with pent-up rage, while Jusampa, sensing death, swung their swords in desperation.
Deungyonggok watched this, biting his lips.
Then, suddenly, he glanced northwest.
“What is Hyeongsanpa doing?”
The thought struck him.
Though the Hwanggeum Family’s estate was vast and the northwest wall wasn’t visible to the naked eye, it was clear that no battle was taking place there.
But surely, he should have heard the sounds of clashing swords and erupting energy.
Why was there still no word?
“Ong Gongja!”
Anxious, Deungyonggok spun around.
Ong So-hu, who had been right behind him until they entered the Hwanggeum Family grounds, was nowhere to be seen.
Where could he have gone?
Deungyonggok turned and moved as if possessed.
The approaching subordinates couldn’t stop him, and he pushed through them as if brushing aside cobwebs in the forest path.
“Ong Gongja, where is Ong Gongja?!”
As he frantically searched for Ong So-hu, Deungyonggok spotted one of his subordinates who had been assigned to stay by Ong So-hu’s side.
“Where is Ong Gongja?”
“Agh!”
Deungyonggok flew like the wind and seized the man by the collar.
The suddenly captured subordinate paled in shock.
Mundo avoided Deungyonggok’s gaze.
Murderous intent flared in Deungyonggok’s eyes.
Still, Mundo stammered as if his lips were sealed with honey, his eyes darting around in panic.
Feeling even more uneasy, Deungyonggok shouted again.
“Where did Ong So-hu go, you damned bastard!”
At last, Mundo took a deep breath and answered.
“I-I don’t really know…”
Mundo’s words never finished.
Enraged beyond reason, Deungyonggok’s palm struck out, severing Mundo’s neck.
Deungyonggok glared around, eyes blazing.
No one dared make a sound.
All averted their eyes.
To make matters worse, the farther he moved toward the rear of the formation, the more blood seeped into his shoes, the thicker the stench of steam rising from corpses, and the sharper the sound of screams.
As if trying to escape it all, Deungyonggok let out a mighty roar.
“I am the Munju of Jusampa, Jeoldang Gyoryong Deungyonggok!”
He leapt into the heart of the shrieking chaos, sweeping the ground with the Gyorongpyeon.
Two figures blocked the Gyorongpyeon’s path.
One was a man with white hair tied back like a horse’s tail; the other a man with a wild mane of black hair.
Both looked to be around fifty.
Without so much as a glance at Deungyonggok, the two faced each other and spoke.
“Who?”
“He says he’s Jeoldang Gyoryong.”
“Jeoldang? Oh, must mean Jeoldang Gang.”
“Probably a bandit, right? They always have ‘Gang’ in their names.”
The disregard stoked Deungyonggok’s fury.
He was the ruler of Jeolgang Seong, the Munju of Jusampa.
“State your names! As the ruler of Jeolgang Seong, I have the right to know!”
“Oh, so he didn’t recognize us.”
The white horse-tail man nodded.
“I’m not particularly interested that you’re the so-called ruler of a no-man’s land. But to think you don’t even recognize my martial arts—hurts my pride a little.”
The horse-tail man’s eyes narrowed.
His sword swept up on a diagonal, and strands of energy unraveled like threads.
As the auras collided, a white light sparked between them.
“This is called Gangnoe Do Beop, and my name is Gang Un.”
Gang Un slowly drew his diagonally raised sword in front of himself.
“And this fellow is Mok Hyeonhak.”
Deungyonggok’s heart dropped.
Impossible.
The legendary Mok Hyeonhak, also known as Manroe Gang Un, was a martial artist famous across the Central Plains.
Such supreme masters were supposed to be off in the mountains or the north—why were they wreaking havoc in a remote place like Jiangxi or Zhejiang?
Did the Hwanggeum Family really have the power to summon two absolute masters?
Who, who in the world could wield such power…
That thought didn’t finish.
Before he knew it, Gang Un’s lightning-fast strike pierced Deungyonggok’s heart.
“So the ruler of Jeolgang Seong has died.”
Mok Hyeonhak, who had been watching quietly, chuckled as Deungyonggok collapsed.
The Cheongmu Unit warriors who witnessed this shouted at once.
“Deungyonggok is dead! The one who took his life is the renowned Manroe Gang Un, the great hero!”
The Jusampa warriors, faces frozen with despair, glanced about.
To left and right, and in the center, the enemy was closing in.
Behind them, there was open ground—but no way out.
***
The battle was, in truth, over.
Bereft of will to fight, the Jusampa warriors either resisted weakly and died, or dropped their swords and begged for surrender.
Yeosangwoo watched the scene and spoke to Gwak Jindo.
“Isn’t it amazing?”
“Their martial prowess? If I’d gone down myself, I could’ve done as much. Draw their attention from the front and ambush from behind—you’d get about the same result.”
“No, I mean that the one who set all this up was a young boy. Seated, he sees a thousand li; if he stands, wouldn’t he see ten thousand?”
Gwak Jindo awkwardly raised his chin and stretched his neck.
Yeosangwoo went on without caring.
“We drew Jusampa in as deep as possible. The Jusampa people have come right to where we considered the best spot.”
“Eh, still, that must be a coincidence.”
Gwak Jindo laughed heartily.
No matter how exceptional his disciple was, the idea that someone could manipulate an unseen battlefield as if turning it in their hand…
Was Gold-necked Hwan supposed to be some kind of Buddha?
“No, I heard from the Elders that the Murim Alliance forces had departed from Muhandae and guessed when they would arrive based on their martial prowess. We adjusted the formation’s speed accordingly.”
“You’re telling me you heard what time the warriors left from Muhandae and predicted when they’d arrive, then set up the operation to match that? Enough with the nonsense. I know my disciple is extraordinary.”
In fact, Gwak Jindo himself had entered the family right at the time Gold-necked Hwan predicted, though he didn’t realize it.
Yeosangwoo just smiled.
Honestly, even he thought it was unbelievable, even as he said it.
But a fact was a fact.
Gold-necked Hwan had confidently said he’d arrive at the appointed time when the sun stood at the center of the sky.
Yeosangwoo looked up at the sky.
The sun, which had reached its peak, was slowly descending.
***
Ong So-hu had already escaped the Hwanggeum Family grounds and was hiding in the nearby forest.
Ong So-hu was the only one who had recognized the true identity of the Hwanggeum Family’s “warriors.”
He had once seen the Cheongmu Unit’s martial arts at the Murim Alliance.
He didn’t know how or by what route the Murim Alliance had come, but they had.
Deungyonggok and the Jusampa warriors, on the other hand, didn’t seem to realize they were Murim Alliance people.
Then again, they wore Hwanggeum Family garb.
Ong So-hu had left word with Hyeongsan’s people to respond if Jusampa attacked—but there was no response from them either.
“So be it.”
If those inside responded and Jusampa won, all the better.
If Jusampa lost and died, that was fine too.
In truth, the spies from Hyeongsan also believed Hyeongsanpa was coming.
Ong So-hu had deceived even the spies from Hyeongsan.
Either way, if they survived, they would be summoned back to Hyeongsanpa to answer for Ong Mungyu’s death.
They would argue over whether it was a command issue or a field blunder.
Better, then, to kill everyone on site and pin the blame on them.
Thus, Ong So-hu’s ideal scenario was for Hyeongsan’s people to die, and Jusampa to win.
But even that seemed unlikely.
Now he just needed to go to Hyeongsan and report to his father that Gwak Jindo of the Hwanggeum Family had killed Ong Mungyu, and that, enraged, he himself had carried out a blood feud against Jusampa to exhaust both sides’ strength.
A smile crept onto Ong So-hu’s lips.
“So this is Mancheongwa Hae.”
To cover the sky and cross the sea.
Though it was a tough situation, he had managed it.
He’d deceived Jusampa, eliminated those who could cause trouble later, and claimed credit while avoiding disaster himself.
Ong So-hu now turned to his last task.
“Hoo.”
He drew his sword.
Now, he had to slash his own body and rip his clothes.
If he arrived in a battered, bloody state, it would seem all the more believable and desperate.
It was best to wound himself here and then run from Namchang to Hyeongsan, with as many witnesses as possible to testify to his injuries.
“…Ha.”
At that moment, Ong So-hu suddenly halted the hand holding his sword.
While he could easily tear his clothes, it was not so easy to wound his own flesh.
He couldn’t understand it.
He was a martial artist.
He knew well the non-vital places that would bleed a lot but not kill.
Yet his hand would not move.
It was only then that Ong So-hu realized he had never once been cut by a blade or broken a bone on his way up to becoming a first-rate martial artist.
He was simply born the son of a sect master, raised on rare medicines, and never had the chance to be hurt, with bodyguards always protecting him.
“So it’s true what they say—that it hurts and burns.”
A theoretical understanding of pain from memory.
Though he hated to admit it, he was frightened.
He gripped the sword tightly, bowed his head, and looked at his own body.
He thought of cutting his thigh, his forearm, even his belly, but could not bring himself to do it.
Thus, Ong So-hu stood, sword in hand, hesitating.
“So, after killing so many, I can’t even leave a single wound on myself.”
Just then, a cold voice spoke from behind.
Even with his aura spread out, he hadn’t noticed the person’s approach.
Holding his breath in the middle of an inhale, Ong So-hu whirled around—just as a flash of light flickered before him.
“Aaagh!”
In an instant, heat and burning pain seared his left eye, and hot blood splattered to the ground.
Too late, he realized the flash had been a sword strike and hastily launched his internal energy to defend.
Through his deeply wounded left eye, he confirmed the identity of his assailant with his right.
“Heh heh.”
It was excruciating, but Ong So-hu laughed.
The one who had cornered him into this situation—the very person, Gold-necked Hwan—stood there.
Ong So-hu looked down at Gold-necked Hwan, who was a head shorter than himself.
“If I take your head, at least mine will be spared. Thanks for coming.”
Gold-necked Hwan looked up in turn and smiled slowly.
“The pleasure is all mine.”