Ruuuuuumble…
A massive cloud of dust rose in the distance. The heavy pounding of countless hooves struck the earth, mercilessly shaking it on its axis. Filled with malice and killing intent directed solely at their enemies, it was perhaps even more terrifying than an earthquake born from Mother Nature’s fury.
RUUUUUUUMBLE…
The martial artists of the Luoyang Sword Clan, having accumulated internal energy and mastered martial arts, felt the vibrations and noise far more vividly than any ordinary person.
Thump, thump.
They tried to suppress it, but their heartbeats only grew louder, as if synchronizing with the tremors rippling through the ground. Tension swelled in their chests as the impending battle loomed. Their gazes wavered for the briefest instant, pupils tightening. Their mouths went bone-dry, a bitter taste blooming on their tongues before a single blade had even crossed.
Thump, thump, thump.
Had they been ordinary soldiers, sweat-slick palms would have slipped from spears again and again. Formations would have crumbled despite commanders’ furious reprimands. Eyes would have frozen, nailed to the approaching swarm of death.
However…
Astonishingly…
The Sword Clan martial artists, to a man, stood with their backs to the enemy, their gazes fixed forward.
Because—
There, atop the cliff, stood their lord.
Thump, thump, thump.
Cutting through the frantic pounding in their chests, the voice of Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon reached them.
“Do you hear it?”
He hadn’t forced his voice to be loud, yet it resonated in a low register across every corner below the cliff.
“The enemy cavalry is approaching.”
Beneath his fluttering flag…
“In truth…”
Under the intensifying sun, Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon offered his subordinates a wry smile.
“We can’t just describe them as mere cavalry. The enemy is a cavalry legion, and there are at least two such legions.”
Why was he deliberately bringing up the very fact his men were desperately trying to grind down and bury?
Under their collective gaze, the Grand Young Master lifted his hand in a small, casual wave.
“And, as you all know, they are merely the enemy’s vanguard.”
He raised that same hand and pointed toward the horizon behind the martial artists.
“Beyond those cavalry legions, elite forces that can only be described as the absolute essence of the Northern tribes await us.”
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
With every fact he laid bare, their heartbeats quickened.
“The Bator Death Squad! The Qaraunas, renowned for pillaging and arson! The absolute elite Royal Guard, the Kheshig! And even the Dark-Assembled Squad, the North’s supreme assassination unit, whose infamy has reached the distant Western world!”
Gulp.
Sweat slid down their skin in an uncomfortable slick as the martial artists swallowed hard.
“Is that all?” Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon asked, as if he could hear the question forming in their throats.
He wasn’t finished.
“Those you see are not the entirety of the enemy.”
He slowly spread his hands.
“Countless enemy legions are currently being stalled by the Great General’s Department across the entire frontline.”
His gaze drifted farther west.
“Even now, they stand beneath the flag of the pretender, Yelü Nuzhucha!”
The Grand Young Master’s voice began to climb.
“Even now, from the distant reaches of the continent, tens of thousands of troops are rushing here from thousands, tens of thousands of li away!”
As he spoke, the martial artists could almost see it: an army converging on them, crossing deserts, pushing through jungles, traversing forests, fording rivers, sweeping across plains.
Into the ears of those taut with tension—
“…Perhaps.”
His voice, heavy with a sigh, fell among them.
“In truth, this might not be our Luoyang Sword Clan’s fight. This might not be our war.”
Words steeped in profound doubt.
“……”
“……”
Agitation rippled through the martial artists as pupils wavered.
“Perhaps…”
Ignoring the shift, the Grand Young Master continued, as if speaking to himself.
“This is a problem for the Northern Great General’s Department and the other generals. It’s an issue the governors here should resolve. Furthermore, it might even be a matter the Imperial Family of the Central Plains Empire should handle directly…”
As unrest sharpened, faint whispers began to leak from the ranks.
[Elder Yeom…!]
Geom Gwi-hon, the Deputy Head leading the Sword Forest, grabbed Elder Yeom’s shoulder, disbelief written across his face.
[S-Shouldn’t we stop him?! The Grand Young Master’s speech is having the exact opposite effect…!]
Elder Yeom didn’t look comfortable either, but he shook his head.
“…Let us observe for now.”
[Until when…?!]
Elder Yeom closed his mouth.
“Martial artists of the Sword Clan.”
The Grand Young Master sat down on the edge of the cliff. As if baring his soul, he addressed the men below.
“Our Luoyang Sword Clan is strong…”
Yet contrary to his words, a bitter smile tugged at his lips.
“Even though we were torn into factions by power struggles, we are still, undoubtedly, the greatest family in the Central Plains Empire… no, on the entire continent.”
At that, some martial artists smiled, pride surging up like a hot tide.
“However.”
The next word erased those smiles at once.
“Even so, we are merely a single family, not a nation.”
He gave a small shrug.
“Can a single family stop the actions of empires, a clash between a massive tribal confederation and a massive nation?”
The Grand Young Master shook his head.
“No. To begin with, why must we be the ones to stop them?”
He pointed south.
“Our home, Luoyang, is unfathomably far from here. What reason do the martial artists of our Luoyang Sword Clan have to bleed and fight in a place that is practically tens of thousands of li from our homeland?”
Murmur, murmur.
“He’s right.”
“…Fuck.”
“Why isn’t there a single hide or hair of the Imperial Army, leaving us to face the Dread King…?”
Unrest was no longer subtle; it had a pulse of its own.
[Elder Yeom…!]
Just as Elder Yeom, jaw tight, was about to tell Geom Gwi-hon to wait a little longer, the Grand Young Master’s bitter chuckle rang out.
“Perhaps it is all because of my, this Yeon So-hyeon’s, lust for power…”
He crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand.
“If we end this war, no matter the sacrifice, His Majesty the Emperor in the Imperial Capital will reap immense benefits, and the opposition factions will suffer a severe blow. And…”
He shrugged toward the martial artists.
“I, Yeon So-hyeon, will reach a position within the family where no one will ever dare openly defy me again.”
Those blatant words weren’t aimed solely at himself.
“Of course.”
His gaze shifted to Elder Yeom and Geom Gwi-hon.
“If you render meritorious service, the standing of Elder Yeom and the Deputy Head of the Sword Forest will also become grand and rock-solid.”
Now, in the eyes glaring up at him, dissatisfaction began to spill out openly.
“Elder Yeom…!”
At Geom Gwi-hon’s hushed, almost screamed plea, Elder Yeom finally moved.
“Adjutant,” Elder Yeom ordered, “tell all team leaders to strictly control any sudden outbursts from the martial artists.”
“Yes, sir!”
“No, Elder Yeom…!” Geom Gwi-hon hissed, frantic. “I meant stop the Grand Young Master, not the martial artists!”
“For now… let’s watch a bit more—”
However…
Before the adjutant could relay the order—
“Grand Young Master!”
A young Sword Forest martial artist raised his hand and shouted up at the cliff.
“If that is the case…!”
No one stopped him. The martial artists around him stepped aside instead, giving his fury room to breathe.
“Then what reason do we martial artists have to fight here?!”
“Y-You…!”
Deputy Head Geom Gwi-hon, appalled, desperately signaled to the men around the youth. The disgruntled martial artists ignored him without shame.
“If, as you say, Grand Young Master, this is a matter nations should resolve, and if our deployment is solely for the power of those in power!”
Without interference, the young martial artist raised his voice higher, speaking for everyone.
“Then what on earth is the reason for us to stand against the massive forces of a hostile nation right here?!”
His voice slammed against the cliff like a struck gong.
“We are martial artists of the Sword Clan. We fight if told to fight, and die if told to die, but…!”
Loyalty for the sake of loyalty. Unconditional loyalty without demanding a price. That was the virtue expected of a martial artist.
“Even now, if you order us to charge, we will charge! If you order us to bring the Dread King’s head, we will bring it, but…!”
The intensity in his voice made even Elder Yeom and Geom Gwi-hon flinch.
“Tell us our reason! The reason why we must fight…!”
His voice pitched into a raw wail.
“Just give us one! Give us just one reason that is for us!”
Every gaze fixed on the Grand Young Master.
“…The reason is.”
Slowly…
The Grand Young Master grasped his flagpole and stood.
“Because I, and you.”
Standing before the flag, he locked eyes with the young martial artist.
“Because we are martial artists.”
It was too obvious.
“We already know that…!” the young man shouted.
Unable to hold back, others began yelling too.
“Give us a proper answer!”
“We didn’t come here to hear the obvious!”
Right then.
The Grand Young Master’s low voice—
“And.”
The distinct presence carried in that voice, the overwhelming dignity—
Subjugated everyone instantly.
“Because we martial artists are beings who constantly seek a place to die.”
As if forcing them into a corner, he raised his voice before anyone could speak.
“We are different from others!”
If the young martial artist’s voice had rung thunderously, the Grand Young Master’s voice shook bone and marrow.
“Farmers grow crops to survive! Merchants sell goods to survive! Artisans craft items to survive!”
He pointed at the vast dust cloud churned up by the cavalry legion.
“Even the soldiers in these borderlands, even the enemy army approaching over there… they fight to live! Commoners or enemy soldiers, all of them fight today to survive!”
He raised a finger.
“But we are different!”
He pointed that finger at the martial artists and shouted.
“Unlike them, who seek to live, we martial artists seek a place to die!”
He pointed at them one by one.
“We seek the greatest battlefield of our lives! We make that place our grave! We erect our own tombstones high with the honor we forge!”
His words were obvious, and yet—
“Our entire lives, we have learned, awakened to, and honed the art of killing our enemies!”
He dragged something painfully apparent up into the light, something they’d been living with and refusing to name.
“We are different! We do not fight to live! We fight to fight, and we die to kill!”
One by one, sparks ignited in the chests of the young martial artists.
“Do you remember?!”
Now his voice rang directly inside their hearts.
“Our Sword Clan martial artists, your seniors, fought in Luoyang! They fought on the Silk Road! They fought on the Grand Canal! Those who crushed the arrogant Namgung Clan are here, and those who conquered distant Jiangnan are also here!”
Something flickered across the faces of the older martial artists, who had been stony a moment ago.
“Why fight in this distant place?! Why must we do it?!”
A ferocious smile spread across the Grand Young Master’s lips.
“Because we are the ones who seek out the battlefield!”
Ferocious smiles, mirroring his, bloomed across the ranks.
“And right there!”
RUUUUUUUUUUUMBLE!
Amid the intensifying vibrations, the Grand Young Master pointed at the rapidly approaching enemy.
“There are enemies in overwhelming numbers!”
He pointed to the ground beneath him.
“And right here lies our honor!”
Snap!
With one hand, the Grand Young Master yanked the massive flagpole from the earth.
“Who!”
The flag in his grip snapped and fluttered violently, as if trying to tear through the wind itself.
“Who will stand with me, Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon, today, and carve their name into history?!”
The moment his question ended—
UWAAAAAAAAAAH!
An earth-shattering roar erupted from the Sword Clan martial artists. It echoed as if the cliff itself would explode. It drowned out the hoofbeats of tens of thousands of enemies. It made their chests swell with bursting heartbeats.
And that was the absolute essence, of fighting spirit.