Chapter 7

“(GRAND YOUNG MASTER—!!!)”

The Dread King’s roar thundered with a deafening resonance, but it met only silence. Yeon So-hyeon had vanished as abruptly as he had appeared, leaving the command tent in a state of frantic bewilderment.

“(He’s gone…?!)”

“(It was just like when he arrived… how?!)”

The only voice that carried any sense of urgency now belonged to the general who had brought news of the surprise attack by the Zhongnan, Diancang, and Kongtong sects. “(Your Majesty, we need a decision immediately! The formation is in peril! You must send the Great Warriors back to the lines at once…!)”

The Great Warriors, who had been murmuring amongst themselves, fell silent and turned their collective gaze toward Yelü Nuzhucha. A sickening sound of grinding teeth echoed from the Dread King’s powerful jaw. No matter how divine the Grand Young Master’s intellect was supposed to be, being toyed with once or twice was more than enough. His towering pride would permit no more.

Dammit! 

The Dread King realized the trap with agonizing clarity.

Normally, the Great Warriors were the anchors of the formation, but So-hyeon’s use of poison had forced the deployment of the Dark-Assembled Squad. Then, to counter the threat of a sudden assassination, the King had been forced to pull his Great Warriors from the field to his side. And now, as if mocking him, So-hyeon had used that exact window of vulnerability to unleash the main host’s reinforcements.

The most horrific part is… Even as rage boiled within him, Yelü Nuzhucha understood the depth of the manipulation. The decision to send the Great Warriors back to the front seems like my own choice, but because I have no other alternative, even this is likely exactly what that bastard intended.

Was there truly no other way? As a thousand thoughts collided in his mind, he finally found his voice. “(Where are the other generals?! Do my aides have no counsel?!)”

He needed a variety of opinions to break the Grand Young Master’s pace, but the command tent was empty save for the Great Warriors looking around in confusion. “(Your Majesty, they are…)”

No answer came. The generals and inner circle had already fled the tent earlier to escape So-hyeon’s initial ambush. In their stead, reports that sounded more like screams continued to flood in from the front.

“(The formation is beginning to collapse from the flanks…!)”

“(If the flanks fall, the rest of the line will follow in a chain reaction…!)”

It wasn’t that the Dread King’s personal legion was weak; on the contrary, they were performing remarkably well against the combined might of the Zhongnan, Diancang, and Kongtong sects—factions that had once been the cornerstone of the Central Plains’ Great Nine Sects.

“(Everyone, remain calm!)”

The Dread King’s command erupted like the roar of a tiger, instantly seizing control of the spiraling chaos. “(The situation has not changed! The enemy is formidable, but they are few! Though we are being pushed back momentarily, we still possess an overwhelming host!)”

A sovereign, especially one who had built his empire upon the saddle, could not allow himself to be swayed by a shifting atmosphere. “(Formations can be restored, and control can be regained! Do not forget that we still have countless warriors left!)”

He was right. It was still too early to call this a decisive victory for the Grand Young Master. “(We have time. First, we will normalize the command center. Find the generals and my aides and tell them to return to their posts immediately!)”

Messengers bolted from the tent like lightning. The King then pointed to the general who had first reported the ambush. “(You, from this moment on, you will receive all incoming reports and update the tactical map immediately!)”

“(I… I obey your command, Your Majesty…!)” Reassured by his King’s composure, the general lunged toward the map.

Without a moment’s respite, Yelü Nuzhucha turned to his remaining guards. “(Listen well, my Great Warriors!)”

“(Speak, Your Majesty…!)”

“(The Grand Young Master’s full intent has not yet been revealed! Therefore!)” He shouted to the elite warriors. “(Check the tactical map. Only those whose sectors are in the most dire need of support will return to the front first!)”

It was a wise, measured response. There was no reason to send everyone back at once or keep everyone behind. Though So-hyeon had tried to force him into a binary ‘all-or-nothing’ choice, the Dread King was unraveling the situation with surgical precision.

“(The rest of the Great Warriors will rotate back to the front only after the Dark-Assembled Squad returns to resume their guard duty!)”

The title of Dread King had been coined by the greedy power-players of the Central Plains, and while his rise was aided by their corruption, his prestige and his current station were the fruits of his own undeniable capability.

“(Move! Move!)”

“(The remaining Great Warriors must stay alert! Strengthen the guard around His Majesty!)”

“(The generals and aides are returning…!)”

Yelü Nuzhucha did not sit back down. He stood like a supervisor, watching as his command center was rapidly restored to order. Several Great Warriors who had finished reviewing the tactical map knelt before him.

“(Brother…!)”

The one who stepped forward to address the King as ‘Brother’ was none other than Atar—the Great Warrior whom the King cherished most, his own blood brother.

“(Five of us, including myself, will return to the battle immediately!)”

With five Great Warriors departing, the King’s personal guard would still be more than sufficient. And Atar was the most loyal and valiant among them.

“(Very well!)” The Dread King spread his hands. “(Go, Atar! You and your brothers surge forward and let the enemy feel the weight of my majesty!)”

“(We obey your command…!)”

The five warriors, led by Atar, had yet to taste blood in this battle. As they left the tent with their fighting spirits ablaze, Yelü Nuzhucha growled under his breath.

“‘A personal matter,’ you say…?” He muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched their departing backs. “(Fine, Grand Young Master. This fight has become very personal for me as well.)”

‘You will finally understand the feelings of one who has lost everything.’

The memory of So-hyeon’s prophecy caused him to gnash his teeth in a slow-burning fury. The confusion he had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a dark, simmering rage rising from the depths of his soul.

“(I swear by the name of Tenger… and by the name of Yelü Nuzhucha…!)” He invoked the name of their god. “(I will burn everything you possess. I will kill and violate every soul you hold dear. I will sever your limbs and grant you the most agonizing death this world has ever seen…!)”

But as his vow to the heavens concluded, reality struck.

Shlik!

In the distance, among the five Great Warriors who were rapidly weaving through the ranks of soldiers, the head of the one at the very rear suddenly toppled from his shoulders. A geyser of crimson blood fountained from the stump.

“(—?!)”

To the Dread King’s eyes, it was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. A flash of black silk whipped through the air, and a figure materialized out of nothingness. His fingers were held in a sword-finger form, dripping with the warrior’s blood.

It was Yeon So-hyeon.

Everyone—including the Dread King—had assumed he had retreated to his own lines. They thought the counter-attack was beginning, and their focus had shifted toward the battlefield. So-hyeon had struck the exact moment of their most profound vulnerability.

“(Ah—!)”

The King tried to scream a warning, but he was too slow. Before the first head could even strike the ground, the second warrior’s arms were torn away.

BOOM!

The third and fourth warriors were sent flying to the left and right, spraying blood from a technique they couldn’t comprehend. Though they were masters who had crossed the wall and managed to react with superhuman instinct to avoid instant death, the impact was devastating.

“(A—ta—!)”

In that fraction of a second, even the Great Warriors—who far surpassed the Dread King’s own martial level—could not react in time. The King’s warning was meaningless.

“(—!)”

Atar, who had been at the very front of the group, was the last to be targeted. He managed to react just in time to face the Grand Young Master.

Clang! Tang! Clash!

Three exchanges? Or perhaps five? It was a blinding blur of sparks. At the Dread King’s level, he couldn’t even tell how many blows had been traded, what profound principles were being utilized, or whether they were using hands, feet, or weapons. The exchange was over before a single blink.

But there was one thing the King could see clearly: the result.

First, he saw Atar’s sword arcing into the sky. It was a treasure blade with an ivory-wrapped hilt, adorned with jade and silk—a weapon the King had personally captured in the West and bestowed upon his brother. It fluttered through the air like a fish out of water.

Then, he saw Atar’s torso split open like a slaughtered lamb, a massive spray of blood erupting from the wound.

And finally, he saw Atar’s head being crushed into fragments by the Grand Young Master’s left hand.

“(…-r!)”

A-ta–r. 

Three syllables. But by the time they had fully left the Dread King’s mouth, his brother had already been brutally murdered.

“(AAAAAAAAAAAGH!)”

Ignoring the Dread King’s primal howl of grief, So-hyeon tossed Atar’s corpse aside as if it were common refuse. As the third and fourth warriors, who had survived the initial strike, lunged at him, the Grand Young Master had already achieved his objective. He vanished once more into the Dark Stream Transformation.

Sssss…

Through the void where the youth had been, the Dread King clearly read the shape of his lips.

“Now, one.”

It was the first precious thing Yeon So-hyeon had taken from him, right before his very eyes.