Jang Baek-unhoe and Cheon Ryu-yeong—crossed destinies.
The 3rd squad's leader, Lee Su-gwang, who set out with Neung Un-bi, was thirty-four years old and the young master of Guiyang Manor, located in Guiyang, the capital of Guizhou Province.
He was slightly short of being called a true master, but as a first-rate martial artist, he wielded an impressive spear technique for his age. Calm to the point of seeming timid, he had been assigned the vice-squad leader Chamwol-do to make up for that shortcoming.
Chamwol-do, the 3rd squad's vice-leader and its strongest expert, was a man of active words and deeds, perfectly complementing the young master's quiet nature.
As they advanced, Lee Su-gwang kept glancing back at the distant rear before clicking his tongue.
"I feel guilty toward our comrades. Everyone else is fighting for their lives, yet we're the only ones pulling out."
Chamwol-do agreed.
"Indeed. I haven't even had a proper warm-up yet. Tch."
A middle-aged man of forty-two, the same age as the Yacha Sword, Chamwol-do recalled Pa-reuk, the 2nd squad leader of the Black Wolf Troop, whom he had faced earlier alongside Lee Su-gwang.
The man had been a formidable fighter.
Had he faced him alone, it might have been dangerous—but for that reason, he also felt regret.
To fight such a man in a life-or-death battle was a rare experience for any martial artist. Were it not for Cheon Ryu-yeong's operational orders forcing them to withdraw, he would have dearly liked to fight it out to the end.
It was like…
Leaving the outhouse without actually doing one's business.
At their exchange, Neung Un-bi spoke with a serious face.
"First, let's deal with the one coming toward us. His lightness skill is truly unmatched. Take him lightly, and we may be taken down before we know it."
Neung Un-bi felt a vague but instinctive sense of foreboding.
In truth, even when Cheon Ryu-yeong had asked him to join the 3rd squad, he hadn't felt much pressure. Like the 3rd squad's leader and vice-leader, his greater concern had been for the comrades they had left behind.
Chamwol-do smirked.
"Specialists in lightness skill aren't so rare, are they?"
Indeed, most martial sects and organizations tended to select a few with talent for lightness skill and train them intensively, for swift movement was valuable in many roles, such as messengers.
But Neung Un-bi kept his gaze locked on the approaching figure and shook his head.
"With this level of lightness skill… it's far too much to dismiss him as merely a messenger…"
He trailed off, eyes widening.
As he focused his inner energy into his vision, the man's face came into clear view—
A strikingly handsome man, with a deep sword scar slashing across his right cheek.
"Is that… truly the Cheonma Sword, Baek Unhoe?"
Neung Un-bi's shocked exclamation made the entire 3rd squad rub their eyes and stare intently ahead.
"Ah! That sword scar on his face…"
Chamwol-do was the first to speak, disbelief in his voice. Soon, voices of doubt and recognition arose.
"It really is the Cheonma Sword. That face is just like the rumors."
"And he's coming here alone?"
The sudden appearance of such an unexpected figure filled them with tension.
Those who had already experienced the terror of the Black Wolf Troop Leader now found the Cheonma Sword—leader of the cult's most elite unit, the Heavenly Wolf Troop—no less fearsome.
Just as morale was beginning to waver, Lee Su-gwang shouted:
"Thankfully, Young Lord Cheon anticipated this possibility and sent the Leader with us!"
Cheon Ryu-yeong had already earned the righteous faction fighters' complete trust. And Neung Un-bi, leader of the Black Tortoise Unit, was here as well.
To subordinates unaware of the full details, he seemed the man who had leisurely faced the fearsome Black Wolf Troop Leader alone.
"That's right."
"With the Leader here…"
"Then we've nothing to fear. We have the Leader, our squad leader, and Vice-Leader Chamwol-do. Does this mean we'll be the ones to capture the infamous Cheonma Sword?"
"Haha, exactly!"
Lee Su-gwang's timely cry halted fear before it could take root and even roused their confidence.
Chamwol-do stepped forward boldly.
"I'll take the first strike against the Cheonma Sword."
Lee Su-gwang nodded.
"Then I'll assist from the side."
As they had with Pa-reuk earlier, they meant to alternate offense and defense.
Neung Un-bi meant to urge caution, but the 3rd squad was already raising their weapons and shouting.
"Waaaah!"
"We'll fight together!"
They quickly formed a solid wall behind Chamwol-do, leaving Neung Un-bi—now at the rear—with his words unspoken.
What mattered more to soldiers in battle than morale?
To dampen such high spirits would be foolish.
—
Cheonma Sword, Baek Unhoe.
His handsome face was twisted. The sight of Cho Ji-myeong's Black Wolf Troop being surrounded by the righteous faction was a shock.
Cho Ji-myeong had survived thirty years in the field, cutting through battlefields like hell itself. How could such a man be driven into this corner?
There was only one answer.
That mysterious figure had once again pulled off something astonishing.
He had to be killed.
And Cho Ji-myeong had to be saved.
Shweeek, shweeeek!
The fierce wind tore past Baek Unhoe's ears as he raced like a bird. His fluttering clothes seemed ready to rip apart from the speed.
Before him, two dozen righteous fighters had formed ranks.
A cruel smile curved Baek Unhoe's lips.
The ones who had toyed with and slain the cult's warriors—
Now they would meet the reaper.
At a distance of thirty jang, Baek Unhoe suddenly doubled his speed.
Paaah!
Like an arrow loosed from the bow, his body exploded forward—the lightness skill of the Heavenly Demonic Violent Flight.
Chaaang!
He drew his longsword.
Chamwol-do, preparing to meet his charge, widened his eyes—so did all the others, drawing sharp breaths.
For the first time, they realized a human could move this fast.
The thirty-jang gap vanished in the blink of an eye.
"Huh—?"
Chamwol-do let out an involuntary gasp. But he was no amateur; his body reacted instinctively to the danger.
Shuga-gak!
His blade slashed toward Baek Unhoe's head.
Jjeong! Seogeok.
Their swords clashed in sparks and steel, but Baek Unhoe's blade bounced away—then whipped back, slicing Chamwol-do's upper body diagonally.
In the same motion, he swept toward Lee Su-gwang.
Three movements—
Yet the sword's path seemed but a single technique, flowing like water, moving like the wind.
Two Black Tortoise Unit members behind Chamwol-do grit their teeth and threw themselves into the falling sword strike.
Shugak!
Their blades cut only empty air—Baek Unhoe was already past them.
Paaat. Kwajik.
His sword pierced one man's side, then twisted, tearing the wound wider, before the rising hilt smashed into another man's jaw, sending him sprawling.
Again—minimal motion, maximal effect.
Behind him, Vice-Leader Chamwol-do's torso split from left shoulder to right flank, blood gushing out, while Lee Su-gwang's severed head fell and rolled across the ground.
So fast that only now did fountains of blood erupt and bodies separate.
Tchchchchchch.
From the Cheonma Sword's blade came an eerie, chilling sound as black, tangible threads of sword energy extended in all directions—
Sword threads, the evolved form of sword energy.
"Kuaaaaagh!"
"Ghhkkk!"
Four Black Tortoise Unit members, unable to dodge, collapsed screaming. They weren't dead, but their wounds were critical, and they rolled on the ground in agony.
When a close comrade fell, a Black Tortoise Unit member's eyes went bloodshot, and he lunged at the Cheonma Sword with his spear.
"Demon! Die!"
Baek Unhoe glanced at the incoming spear and let out a faint chuckle.
Just before the spear, thrust like lightning, could pierce his chest, Baek Unhoe's sword smashed down on the spear's head.
Jjeoong!
Unable to withstand his strength, the spear was knocked upward, leaving its wielder's front wide open.
Shugak!
The waist was severed in a single stroke.
Then, Baek Unhoe's body spun like a windmill—twice, left and right, with blistering speed.
That lightning-fast movement was a Seonpung Gak (Whirlwind Kick). With the storm-like roundhouse, the bisected corpse sprayed blood as it was flung to either side.
When their comrade's body came flying toward them, the horrified Black Tortoise Unit members faltered and stepped back. In that instant, Baek Unhoe advanced.
He was a wind that went wherever it pleased, a storm that crushed all resistance.
Kwagik! Shak!
"Ghk!"
"Uwaaaah!"
Two Black Tortoise Unit members fell to their knees screaming. Without the slightest hesitation, Baek Unhoe tore through the center of the unit, leaving only Neung Un-bi standing before him.
A hellscape that unfolded in the blink of an eye.
Neung Un-bi could hardly believe what he was seeing. There had been no time to react, no time to think.
The Cheonma Sword, Baek Unhoe—
He was… Death incarnate.
The wild rumors about him that spread through the Central Plains, dismissed as absurd, were the unvarnished truth.
Through his wavering vision, Neung Un-bi saw, far beyond Baek Unhoe, a massive cloud of dust rising—an onrushing host.
It took no effort to guess what they were.
The Heavenly Wolf Troop, the Demonic Cult's most elite force, had arrived.
And worse—they looked far more numerous than Cheon Ryu-yeong had anticipated.
"This… is a nightmare."
Neung Un-bi let out a bitter sigh as the Cheonma Sword, smiling coldly, approached. This man was on a level unlike anyone he had ever faced.
Half a quarter of an hour before the Cheonma Sword clashed with the Black Tortoise Unit's 3rd squad
Black Wolf Troop Leader Cho Ji-myeong charged toward what looked like the loosest section of the righteous faction's lines.
Buuuuung!
The Azure Dragon Halberd sang as it cut through the air.
Sunlight struck its silver, bloodstained blade, shattering into dazzling fragments.
Jjeoeeoong!
A Kunlun elder gritted his teeth as he blocked Cho Ji-myeong's strike.
"You'll never reach the Invincible Sword!"
The elder thought Cho Ji-myeong was trying to finish off the retreating Han Chu-gwang.
A flicker of light crossed Cho Ji-myeong's lone eye. If they believed his target was the Invincible Sword, he would play along.
"I'll finish him off!"
With a thunderous shout, he swung his halberd.
Paaaang!
An inhuman force for a man so blood-soaked and battered.
Jjaeng!
The elder's sword snapped in two, and its wielder was hurled aside by the sheer impact.
In that moment, a spear darted toward Cho Ji-myeong's flank—
Jjeoong!
Mong Chu, 1st squad leader of the Black Wolf Troop, deflected it and stepped forward.
"Go, Troop Leader! Fulfill your final will!"
With that cry, Mong Chu battered aside the descending blades.
Papapaat! Jjaeng! Shweeeeek!
The hiss of steel soaked in killing intent. The tearing of the air.
Pushing too far forward, Mong Chu gritted his teeth as a blade sliced into his left arm.
"I am Mong Chu, 1st Squad Leader of the Black Wolf Troop!"
With a roar, he hurled himself at the righteous fighters before him.
Jjaeeeng!
As he plunged into death's embrace, the righteous fighters around him struck from all sides. In the instant they were drawn toward him, Cho Ji-myeong seized the opening.
Tatataak!
With a bounding leap, his heavy frame struck the ground, launching him three jang into the air. He landed and sprinted without pause.
The righteous fighters ahead were scattered and few in number now.
"Stop him!"
"Protect Senior Han!"
"The Invincible Sword is in danger!"
Seok Hyeon-ja, Taechung Hall Master of Kunlun, holding the unconscious Han Chu-gwang, felt a jolt of fear. He did not fear fighting—but if he failed to block Cho Ji-myeong, the Invincible Sword would die.
Gathering all his inner strength, Seok Hyeon-ja ran toward the wall of comrades on the left flank. Cho Ji-myeong followed close behind.
"Stop, Invincible Sword!"
The scattered righteous fighters ahead of him rushed to block his path.
A cruel smile curved Cho Ji-myeong's lips. Murderous intent gleamed in his lone eye.
His head snapped to the side.
The strategist of the righteous faction—
There was not a single fighter between them.
Cho Ji-myeong changed direction and charged at Cheon Ryu-yeong.
Only then did the righteous fighters realize their grave mistake.
In the chaos, they had left unguarded the man who had saved countless lives.
"No! Stop him!"
A voice cried out in dismay, but it was far too late.
Cheon Ryu-yeong had been glancing between the chaotic battlefield and the grassy plain to his right. Just before the Black Tortoise Unit's 3rd squad engaged their mysterious opponent, he swept his gaze over the front.
Then the Black Wolf Troop Leader, who had been pursuing the Invincible Sword, suddenly turned toward him.
"…Hmph."
A sound escaped Cheon Ryu-yeong's lips. He had never expected that his target would be himself rather than the Invincible Sword.
Cheon Ryu-yeong—
As Dokgo Seol had once told Dokgo Mu-yeong, he had become someone precious. But he himself had not fully realized it.
He bit his lip and spoke to Cha Myeong-eum, the injured man carrying him on horseback.
"Let me down."
Cha Myeong-eum froze at the sight of the Black Wolf Troop Leader charging with his massive halberd.
With a bitter smile, Cheon Ryu-yeong swung his legs back over and jumped to the ground. Only then did Cha Myeong-eum come to his senses and cry out in alarm.
"Y-young Lord Cheon!"
Cheon Ryu-yeong smiled faintly and nodded.
"Go."
"You as well, sir."
His bitter smile deepened. He was no "young lord," merely a former porter—but now was not the time to argue over titles.
"I'd like to, but I cannot."
"…Why not?"
"Though I've not fought with a blade, I've fought with my heart. I cannot die running away in disgrace now."
He had stumbled into this by chance, but he had commanded the battle, and many had fought, bled, and died trusting in him. He could not now be seen fleeing in cowardice.
Besides, even if he did run, could he possibly escape a peak master like the Black Wolf Troop Leader? He would only die shamefully. Better, perhaps, to die well and trust that the righteous faction would see to his family's welfare.
Cheong-hwa… no, Sword Peak Dokgo Seol—
He didn't know her well, but he believed she had at least that much honor.
As the Black Wolf Troop Leader closed the last few steps between them, Cheon Ryu-yeong let out a deep sigh—and smiled faintly.
He should have been trembling, but he was strangely calm. Perhaps because he knew that struggling would only make him die in ugliness.
He planted his feet firmly on the ground and faced his foe.
His heart pounded.
The fear that had been quiet now surged up, and he lifted his gaze to the sky.
Azure heavens—
The dazzling sun of the blue sky filled his eyes.
"I wonder… will my last sight be that bright? I hope so…"
A life eked out at rock bottom—
At least its end, he wished, might be brilliant. A sorrowful smile curved his lips.