The sun that had once hung at the center of the sky had now tilted fully toward the western horizon. The occasional breeze seemed to have been cowed by the Cheonma Sword's overwhelming martial might, lying flat and holding its breath.
Chaaang!
Black Tortoise Unit Leader Neung Un-bi grit his teeth and drew his sword. As a veteran who had lived on the blade for many years, the one thing he refused was to die without striking at least once.
Then, in a flash, Cheon Ryu-yeong's earlier warning echoed in his mind—
If the enemy was far stronger than expected, or if there were fifty or more in the rear guard, retreat.
He had said it preparing for the worst. Unfortunately—tragically—both of those worst-case scenarios had come true.
"Everyone, turn back and run! Rejoin our forces!"
Neung Un-bi resolved to hold the Cheonma Sword here, if only for a moment. Otherwise, his subordinates would be slaughtered without a chance.
Most moved at once at his command, but some hesitated, unable to abandon their leader. One soldier shouted with all his might:
"Leader! We'll fight with you!"
Neung Un-bi sighed inwardly. The Cheonma Sword was not an opponent who could be held off simply by a few more joining in. But there was no time to explain.
The Cheonma Sword's blade was already thrusting toward him—
Fast. Breathtakingly fast.
The sword energy running along the blade felt cold enough to freeze his very bones, chilling and terrifying all at once.
Neung Un-bi had already spun his dantian to the maximum, pouring true energy into his sword. Just as he prepared to block the incoming strike, something unbelievable happened—
The Cheonma Sword shifted his body slightly and withdrew the attack.
"Why?"
The question slipped from Neung Un-bi's lips without thought. There was no reason for someone who had never stopped pressing forward to suddenly break off an attack.
Baek Unhoe smiled coldly.
"You are the Black Tortoise Unit Leader?"
The tone was arrogant.
Though the Cheonma Sword was younger than he, Neung Un-bi felt it natural that such a man would speak so. His very bearing radiated the authority of one who commanded warriors.
"That's right. I am Neung Un-bi, leader of the Murim Alliance's Black Tortoise Unit."
Puffing out his chest to mask his unease, he spoke more boldly than he felt.
"Is that so? Then you might be useful."
Baek Unhoe brushed his hair back with one hand and cast his gaze over the battlefield ahead.
To Neung Un-bi, it was a deeply insulting act.
Barely one and a half jang apart—a few steps and a single thrust would put either of them at mortal risk—yet his opponent was looking elsewhere.
"You dare ignore me…"
Grinding his teeth, Neung Un-bi prepared to attack—but before he could move, a Black Tortoise Unit soldier at Baek Unhoe's side sprang forward.
"Die!"
It was Jo Sun-ha, twenty-six, of the 3rd squad.
An expert in swift swordplay and lightness skill, the third strongest in his squad after the leader and vice-leader. He had stayed behind out of rage at the death of Vice-Leader Chamwol-do, whom he had regarded like an elder brother.
To him, the Cheonma Sword's momentary distraction was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Shweeeek!
A swift sword meant to split heaven and earth.
He poured all his inner strength into this one strike. Neung Un-bi's eyes flashed. His mind raced.
If the Cheonma Sword blocked Jo Sun-ha's attack, his front would open wide—unintentionally creating the perfect opening for Neung Un-bi to strike.
Without hesitation, Neung Un-bi stepped forward.
Srrrk!
Baek Unhoe's form wavered like a mirage as he slid inside Jo Sun-ha's guard, the sword barely missing.
Pararararak.
His sleeve fluttered like a flag. In an instant, his left hand opened wide and clamped down hard on Jo Sun-ha's right wrist.
It was a Chimna-su (Seizing Hand) technique.
Jo Sun-ha tried to twist his blade toward the Cheonma Sword's body, but he could not. His sword wrist was trapped.
Udeudeudeuk.
A chilling crack rang out as his wrist bones shattered, followed by a scream.
"Aaaagh!"
And it did not end there—Baek Unhoe smashed the broken wrist downward, hurling Jo Sun-ha forward.
It all happened in a single motion.
Pook!
Neung Un-bi's eyes widened. His sword had driven into Jo Sun-ha's side.
"Ah!"
The dying man collapsed onto him, but Neung Un-bi flung himself away using Seomun-bo (Flashing Cloud Step).
Parararara.
His clothes whipped in the wind of his own speed, almost tearing. At the end of his dazzling footwork, the Cheonma Sword's blade drove straight toward his face.
Shweeeek!
Neung Un-bi threw his head and waist back, slashing upward with all his might.
Jjaeng!
Blue sparks flew—but the Cheonma Sword's weapon did not rebound. It hung in the air, pressing down on his blade.
"Ghhrrrk…"
Bent backward, Neung Un-bi could not put full strength into his sword.
Baek Unhoe looked down with a detached gaze.
"Not a bad footwork technique, Black Tortoise Unit Leader."
Thud.
Unable to withstand the force, Neung Un-bi's knees buckled. At that moment, Baek Unhoe's right foot smashed into his chin.
"Khhhk!"
Blood sprayed from his mouth as he flew back and lost consciousness.
Those who had remained out of faint hope now saw the overwhelming difference in skill—and finally turned and fled for their lives.
Ignoring them, Baek Unhoe slung the unconscious Neung Un-bi over his shoulder.
Striding forward, he muttered:
"Now, this isn't the end—it's the beginning. How will you counter this? Have you read my intentions yet?"
Behind him, two hundred of the Heavenly Wolf Troop surged forward, raising a cloud of dust like a storm.
Beneath the blazing sun, Cheon Ryu-yeong looked up at the sky with sorrowful eyes.
The last moment of his life—
A life so meager and fleeting that nothing remained to regret, save for one thing—his family.
He had wanted, if not to give them luxury, at least to free them from the suffocating poverty they had always endured.
His mother and younger sister—he could see their grief when they received news of his death. The thought tightened his chest.
Just as he was accepting death, his eyes went wide.
"Protect him!"
"We must protect him!"
Shouts of resolve erupted behind him. Figures stepped to his left and right, blocking the way forward.
Buddhist nuns of the Emei Sect, along with gravely wounded fighters who should not have been on their feet, had dragged their exhausted bodies forward.
Cheon Ryu-yeong was struck speechless. He was about to tell them this wasn't right, but before he could speak, someone seized him by the waist from behind and pulled him back.
It wasn't only Cheon Ryu-yeong who was shocked—the Black Wolf Troop Leader, Cho Ji-myeong, was as well.
Those who had sat slumped from the start of the battle, seemingly too spent to even rise—
Men missing arms, legs cut away, bodies torn open with wounds so deep they could drop dead at any moment—
Now stood before him, swords in hand, blocking his way.
"Stand aside!"
Cho Ji-myeong's bellow was like the roar of a beast.
Buuuuung!
The Azure Dragon Halberd split the air with a tearing sound.
Jjeong! Jjjeoeeoong!
One sword, then two staffs went flying from a single sweep.
"I said, stand aside!"
Now his shout was more like a desperate cry.
Buuuuung!
At his second strike, two Emei Sect nuns screamed and fell.
"Do not fall back."
"We must save our benefactor."
Seventy-odd gravely wounded fighters clutched at split bellies, gripped swords in their remaining hands, and shouted.
Buuuuung!
"Uaaagh!"
They fell one by one.
With their inner energy gone, their strength exhausted, unable even to hold themselves upright, they fought to the last, vanishing like petals scattered by the wind.
Cheon Ryu-yeong struggled to pry loose the arms holding his waist.
"Why? Why!"
Why would they throw their lives away to protect him? Why?
The Kunlun disciple dragging him back answered, voice trembling:
"To save you, Young Lord Cheon."
Cheon Ryu-yeong turned to see tears streaming down the man's face.
"What am I to deserve that?"
"Don't you understand? You are the one who has kept us alive until now—and the hope that can keep us alive in the future."
Cheon Ryu-yeong shook his head and looked forward again. A middle-aged Kunlun Taoist was falling, his life snuffed out.
"I… I am not such a great man. Let me go. I too fear losing my life. But for one man's life to cost so many…"
"If we lose you, we lose this battle. Then all the lives of the seniors and comrades who have fallen will be for nothing."
"…!"
Cheon Ryu-yeong stared at the Kunlun disciple, shocked.
Was that true? Had it always been true?
Were the lives of all those who had died now resting on his shoulders—their sighs, their pain, their sacrifice, their pride, their hope?
"Live. Please live. And remember those who died today. We believe you will make their sacrifice worth something."
A film of moisture blurred Cheon Ryu-yeong's vision.
"I am not so great. I just… had the luck to improvise well…"
"Do not belittle yourself. That would insult those dying for you now. We have all seen your terrifying talent with our own eyes. We have seen, and felt, the way you pulled us back from the brink time and again."
Breathing hard, the Kunlun disciple released his grip on Cheon Ryu-yeong's waist, then bowed low, tears falling.
"I must go too. Please remember our sacrifice."
Cheon Ryu-yeong's chest felt crushed, as though a great stone were pressing down. A strange, searing emotion threatened to burst free.
What was this feeling?
Suddenly, Cho Ji-myeong threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"Ha ha ha! Wuha ha ha ha!"
The laughter, powered by his inner strength, shook the air. The sudden sound froze the battle for an instant.
He stepped back, but the wounded who stood before Cheon Ryu-yeong did not lower their guard.
Cho Ji-myeong turned his head. Ten or so righteous fighters had drawn near, blades ready.
He sighed.
"I've lost. Truly lost. What use is it to cut down a few who can barely hold their weapons? I cannot fulfill my last aim now."
At his words, 1st Squad Leader Mong Chu—blood-soaked and barely standing—fell to his knees.
"Troop Leader!"
Cho Ji-myeong shook his head, blood tears streaming from his one good eye.
"I am sorry. If I am born again, I will be your servant to repay my debt."
Turning again, he called out to Cheon Ryu-yeong in the distance.
"Though you are my enemy, I respect you. I acknowledge my defeat—and your victory."
The battlefield stilled.
Everyone held their breath, glancing between Cho Ji-myeong and Cheon Ryu-yeong.
Cheon Ryu-yeong could only stare blankly at the unexpected turn.
"I will give you my head. In return, will you spare the lives of my remaining men?"
"…"
"This fight is already decided. If we fight to the end, we will all die—and your side will lose more as well. Shameless as it is, I beg you."
Thud!
Cho Ji-myeong dropped to his knees before him.
The Black Wolf Troop roared in shock.
"Troop Leadeeer!"
But he could no longer hear them. Exhausted of all inner strength and stamina, his many wounds sapping the last of his life, Cho Ji-myeong collapsed unconscious where he knelt.
Thus ended the thirty-year career of the Iron-Blooded Assault Captain, who had stormed battlefields without pause.
At that moment, the Black Wolf Troop's 2nd Squad Leader, Pa-reuk, shouted:
"Reinforcements! Our allies are here!"
Neither the Black Wolf Troop, trapped in the encirclement, nor most of the righteous fighters, fighting with all their might, had known that the Cheonma Sword and the Heavenly Wolf Troop were approaching.
The survivors of the Black Tortoise Unit's 3rd squad were fleeing, and behind them came Baek Unhoe with Neung Un-bi slung over his shoulder. Further still, two hundred Heavenly Wolf Troop warriors thundered forward.
The Black Wolf Troop's cheers rose, while confusion spread among the righteous faction.
Above the chaos, Baek Unhoe's roar crashed down like a bolt of lightning.
"Wuheoheoooong!"
An overwhelming demonic aura swept through the air like a tidal wave. The righteous fighters gritted their teeth against the pressure, feeling their true energy churn as it reacted to the miasma.
For Cheon Ryu-yeong, who had no inner strength, the suffocating weight turned into nausea, draining the color from his face.
Then, Baek Unhoe's booming voice followed.
"Black Wolf Troop! Do not yield! I, the Cheonma Sword Baek Unhoe, have come to aid you!"
As the confusion in the righteous ranks reached its peak, Cheon Ryu-yeong, pale-faced, stepped to the front.