“The enemy is retreating!” The House of Benevolence’s Heavy Infantry Corps, which had been defending the alleys like an iron wall, began to pull back like an ebbing tide.

An executive from the Unorthodox organization, the Five Dragons Branch, his bald head flushed crimson, roared, “Everyone, chase the enemy at once—!”

“Wait!” A hand grabbed his shoulder.

“What is it?!”

It was another executive from the same Five Dragons Branch.

“We drove them back! If we don’t pursue now—!”

His one-eyed colleague, though panting with exhaustion, yelled back, “Have you already forgotten the enemy’s guerrilla tactics that were just ongoing?!”

He raised a hand, pointing straight ahead. At the end of the alley they occupied lay the mid-stream plaza, where all the winding alleys converged.

“I heard the Grand Young Master’s side had their forward base in that plaza.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything?” The bald executive, though irritated, showed patience for his one-eyed colleague’s words. His colleague was a veteran of the Northern Wars, having lost an eye on the battlefield. In return, he possessed at least a rudimentary understanding of wartime tactics.

“Imagine repeating crossbows positioned on the rooftops of all the buildings surrounding that plaza.”

“…”

Purple signal fireworks painted the sky, dyeing the Unorthodox executive’s pale face purple.

“If we enter that plaza…!”

“Those heavy infantry from before will cut off our retreat.”

If that happened, they would all be skewered by dozens, hundreds of arrows in a plaza with no cover.

“…Dammit!”

As the Five Dragons Branch members halted in the alley, members from other Unorthodox organizations, seeing their chance, surged past them. Their movements were unusually skilled; they were undoubtedly all Unorthodox martial artists.

“Looks like everyone’s tired out!”

The blatantly mocking voice made the bald executive from the Five Dragons Branch scowl.

“Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove…”

“Thanks for wearing down the heavy infantry for us!” The Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove executive slapped their shoulders as he passed, waving dismissively. “Leave the rest to us, the elites of Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove!”

The two Five Dragons Branch executives exchanged meaningful glances as they watched his back, and the backs of the Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove Unorthodox martial artists, chuckling as they went.

They simply watched.

However… even after waiting for a considerable time, the anticipated crossfire of arrows never came, nor did the enemy heavy infantry appear to block their retreat.

“The glory of capturing the central plaza belongs to us, Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove!” Instead, only the triumphant shout of the Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove executive and the cheers of his men could be heard.

“…Did the enemy really retreat completely?” The one-eyed executive from the Five Dragons Branch, who had stopped the advance, looked perplexed. “Does that mean the enemy abandoned the mid-stream? Did they decide to defend from the upper stream?” His remaining eye was filled with confusion. “No, no. It’s still too early to give up the mid-stream—!”

“Ah, fuck it!”

The impatient bald executive yelled to his subordinates.

“Boys! We’re cutting through the plaza and heading straight for the enemy catapult positions!” The enemy catapults located mid-stream were still conducting wide-ranging attacks across the valley. With the enemy forces having withdrawn, the catapult positions were nothing but prime targets.

“Run! Run!”

The two executives ran, even mobilizing their internal energy, while their members followed, squeezing out every last bit of strength.

“Ah, dammit…!” Despite their efforts, the entrance to the alley near the catapult positions was already swarming with members from other organizations who had arrived first.

“Fuck, these bastards are fast.”

It seemed they had already completed the occupation; the giant catapults visible through the alley were motionless. Yet, strangely, there were no cheers, only an eerie silence. The bald executive, running so hard his head felt starved of oxygen, had no capacity to notice the strangeness.

“Hey!” He slapped the shoulder of a member from another organization at the very back.

“Which outfit are you…?” His gruff voice trailed off as he tried to catch his breath.

“Gack—, gack—.”

The man whose shoulder he’d slapped was staggering, making strange noises.

“Uh…?” The bald executive instinctively stepped back as the man turned around. “Uh? Uh?”

“…What’s wrong—?”

His subordinates, gasping for breath after chasing their energetic executive, fixed their gazes on the other man’s face.

“Wh-What is that?!”

“H-How should I know?! How would I know?!”

The man’s face was covered in mysterious blisters, making him unrecognizable.

“Gack—, gack—.”

As if struggling to breathe, the man clawed at his own neck with his fingernails. The whitish, swollen blisters burst, oozing yellow pus and fluid.

“Kkeok, keo-eok—!”

He clawed so violently at his own neck…

“C-Can’t… breathe…!” …that he held up his hands, covered in his own blood and flesh, and staggered towards the Five Dragons Branch members.

“H-Help—!”

“F-Fuck?!”

The bald executive from the Five Dragons Branch reflexively kicked him hard in the chest. The man went flying backward.

“Gack, gack—.”

He convulsed, twisting and thrashing before…

“Geok, geok.”

…finally, his breathing stopped.

“‘Can’t breathe?’ What the?! Fuck!” The bald executive’s wavering gaze swept towards the inside of the alley. “What the hell is going on?!” He realized that the members of the other organization, who had seemed to be standing idly in the alley, were all dead on their feet.

***

From a distance, those figures perched atop the catapults had looked like they were boasting of their achievements. Now, they looked entirely different. They had all desperately clung to the towering catapults, trying to climb higher. Like drowning men swimming upwards, ever upwards, gasping for air.

“Are… are they all dead—?” A subordinate sidled up to the bald executive, who stood frozen like ice, unable to speak.

“…Yeah, fuck.” He scratched his bald head roughly. “Whatever it is, they’re all dea—”

Turning to face his subordinate, the executive’s eyes widened as if they would tear. Even in the alley’s darkness, his internal-energy-enhanced vision could see his subordinate’s face flushing crimson.

“Y-You…?”

Small blisters were beginning to rise, sickeningly clear, on the man’s skin.

“What’s wrong…?” the subordinate asked with a dumb expression, then suddenly started coughing. “Huh? Why is my throat suddenly…?”

Then, the other subordinates around him also started coughing violently. “Uh, my breathing… it’s hard to breathe—”

“Cough, cough—!”

The one-eyed executive, who had been examining the corpses of the other organization’s members, heard the coughing, looked back at the subordinates, and hissed, ”This is…!” 

Did that guy realize something? 

[Get out of here, now!]

Leaving only that short telepathic message, the one-eyed executive turned without a backward glance and started running with all his might.

“Where do you think you’re going alone?!”

No answer came back.

“H-Help…” A subordinate grabbed the collar of the bald executive, who was left alone.

“C-Can’t… brea—, Gack—.”

That distinctive gasping sound. He couldn’t possibly have forgotten the sound he’d heard just moments before from the other organization’s member.

“Fuck!” Reflexively shaking off the hand, the executive looked around.

“Gack, gack.”

Without exception, his subordinates were gasping and staggering. Without exception, all their exposed skin was covered in blisters.

“Fuck, fuck!”

He backed away from his men, then spun around and ran with all his might.

***

Catapult Position, Underground Shelter.

The members of Artillery Battery Number One, hidden in the underground shelter, were safe.

“…The scratching sound at the door from above has stopped.”

At the report from the subordinate monitoring the tightly sealed hatch above the ladder, the battery commander nodded grimly, ”Understood.”

The subordinate, eyes darting nervously, kept glancing at the sealed hatch as he asked, “…Are the enemies all dead?”

“Around here, at least, they’re definitely all dead.”

Each artillery battery had waited until the very last moment to lure the enemy as deep as possible, then retreated into their pre-arranged individual underground shelters.

“…This door will hold, right?”

Seeing his subordinate still gripped by anxiety, asking question after question, the battery commander sighed and waved a hand. “I’ll guard this place. You go inside and rest.”

“Y-Yes. Thank you…!”

The battery commander, gripping his axe, sat heavily on a supply crate near the ladder. His gaze lifted towards the tightly sealed hatch above. 

Hell must have unfolded up there. 

They had played a crucial role, luring the enemy deep and achieving a great victory. But instead of cheers, the underground shelter was filled only with a tense silence, thick with anxiety and fear. If someone coughed from the dust accumulated underground, everyone would jump as if startled by a fit. The battery commander tightened his grip on the axe, which kept slipping in his sweaty palms, and recalled the name of the poison that had unleashed hell on earth. ‘…Faceless Lifeless Poison.’

***

“Faceless Lifeless Poison?” The bald executive, running full tilt alongside the one-eyed executive from the Five Dragons Branch, asked again.

[Use telepathy! Conserve your breath!]

The bald executive, lacking the skill to use telepathy fluidly while executing movement techniques, failed several times before finally managing to send a message.

[What in the world is Faceless Lifeless Poison?]

[It’s a poison. A mass-killing weapon of the Sichuan Tang Clan.]

Disbelievingly, the bald executive shook his head. [No, what kind of poison has no color and no smell—]

[Just once.] His one-eyed colleague’s telepathic message cut him off. [During the Northern Wars, I saw it used on a northern tribe’s military camp.]

Clear, vivid fear colored his colleague’s remaining eye.

[Blisters cover the whole body until even parents cannot recognize the face, hence Faceless. Like a fish pulled onto land, they inevitably suffocate to death, hence Lifeless.]

The bald executive’s face turned deathly pale. The one-eyed executive shuddered. The memory of the blisters swelling on his subordinates’ faces and their gasping sounds overlapped with the scene he had witnessed on the battlefield that day, making his skin crawl.

[W-Will we? Can we survive?]

On the path they were running down, every alley and street was littered with corpses.

[…Just don’t inhale too much. As long as internal energy flows through your body, you should be able to endure.]

At those words, the bald executive looked utterly dumbfounded. [Internal energy needs to flow, but I have to reduce my breathing…?]

Stable breathing was essential for maintaining a constant flow of internal energy. Being told to circulate internal energy while reducing breathing was like being told to breathe underwater.

[…That’s the only countermeasure I know.]

“Fuck…!”

From where to where had the poison been spread? The bald executive ran, scanning his surroundings with fear-filled eyes, but there was no way for them to detect a colorless, odorless poison. Was the cold sweat running down his body making his skin itch? Or was it the poison taking hold, blisters forming? Was his breathing labored because he was trying to conserve air? Or was it the poison’s symptoms making breathing difficult?

All around lay the corpses of Unorthodox members, their faces unrecognizable.

Nothing else.

“Fuck!”

The wind blowing down from the upper valley felt like it was choking him.

[There! The mid-stream plaza!]

The one-eyed executive pointed to the plaza they had passed through earlier. Without looking back, he dashed into the plaza first.

[The Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove guys…?!]

Following him into the plaza, the bald executive forgot his words. Corpses littered the entire plaza. The pandemonium that had been the heart of the battlefield just moments ago was now filled only with a deathly silence. Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove, who had been celebrating their capture of the enemy’s forward base, had already been wiped out.

“N-No. Impossible. These guys were Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove’s elites! They were all martial artists…!” The bald executive clutched his head, shouting aloud. “We’re still alive, how could Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove’s martial artists all fall to poison at once…?!”

The one-eyed executive, examining the traces on the corpses, shook his head.

[They were poisoned by Faceless Lifeless Poison, but they didn’t die from the poison.]

“What…?” the bald executive asked again. “What do you mean by—?” His words were cut short.

Clank. Clank. 

The sound of metal chains dragging across the ground, approaching from the distance, shattered the plaza’s silence.

[…They were all killed by hidden weapons.]

No sooner had his one-eyed colleague’s telepathic message ended than figures clad in black emerged from all corners of the plaza.

Shhhiik—, Shhhiik—. 

There was no way to see their faces. Without exception, they all wore jet-black poison masks. 

Shhhiik—, Shhhiik—. 

The sound of their breathing through the masks, their statue-like stillness… it was utterly terrifying.

And then. Clank. Clank. Dragging long chains connected to two scythes along the ground, the last figure to emerge was…

“The Headhunter of the Ancient Tea Horse Road…!”

He wore a poison mask, but it wasn’t his face they recognized. The poison of the Sichuan Tang Clan. The hidden weapons that annihilated Ma Clan of the Cultivated Grove’s Unorthodox martial artists. And the two chain scythes. Even an executive belonging to Luoyang’s Unorthodox sects couldn’t fail to recognize him.

His name was Tang Baek.

And he was the Grim Reaper.