Right-wing cavalry legion.
“Fire!”
At the command, the cavalry, having finished reorganizing thanks to the Death Squad’s sacrifice, released a volley of arrows in perfect unison.
Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh-swoosh-swoosh!
Swoooosh!
In an instant, it became a rain of arrows dense enough to blot out the sun and sky.
“Hmph.”
A low scoff.
Spinning rapidly, Geom Gwi-hon, Deputy Head of the Sword Forest, swung his sword, deflecting every arrow that dared to aim for him.
It was the Sword Clan sword art, Heart of the Resonating Sword, in the Reverse Sword Stance, nothing more than an unbroken chain of Basic Moves. No ultimate secret art. No hidden technique. Just ordinary fundamentals, repeated without mercy.
Clang! Clang-clang-clang-clang! Clang-clang!
Unlike other martial artists who dominated an entire area to block arrows wholesale, Geom Gwi-hon read the trajectory and force of each individual arrow so fast it felt simultaneous, and at the same time, he maintained absolute control over the power flowing through his body and into his blade.
For him, basic moves were the most efficient technique of all.
“Cease fire…! Cease fire…!”
Soon, the enemy realized that no matter how many arrows they fired head-on, it gained them nothing against martial artists skilled enough to belong to the Sword Forest. They were the first to lower their bows.
“This actually worked out well.”
A massive female martial artist brushed arrows off her martial attire like they were dried leaves.
Arrows couldn’t even pierce her steel-like muscle.
“Thanks to them, our workload’s decreased.”
Following her gaze, corpses riddled with allied arrows lay scattered across the ground, Death Squad warriors stitched into the dirt by their own side’s panic.
“The left-wing cavalry legion’s Death Squad has been annihilated.”
When the few remaining Death Squad warriors sensed defeat and tried to flee, the enemy had responded by unleashing a ruthless volley, indiscriminately firing into friend and foe alike.
“Still…”
A young martial artist approached, uneasy.
“Even if it’s a Death Squad made of criminals, they were still allies. I just can’t understand these Northern tribes…”
He never finished.
“Muhahahahahaha!”
“…?!”
Geom Gwi-hon erupted into laughter so hearty it bordered on frivolous.
“Deputy Head…?”
Ignoring the stares, he shouted, face split with delight.
“Did you see that, Grand Young Master?!”
He glanced back with an arrogant posture, then declared as if the heavens themselves were his audience.
“The martial artists of the North are no match for us at all! This is the power of our Sword Forest, and…!”
He jabbed a thumb at his own chest.
“This is the power of the Sword Forest Deputy Head, Geom Gwi-hon…!”
His subordinates only stared at him blankly, like they were watching a lunatic perform on a stage nobody asked for.
And the reaction he’d expected from the Grand Young Master never came.
Geom Gwi-hon’s eyes flicked around even faster than when he’d been batting down arrows, but the Grand Young Master was nowhere to be seen.
“Ahem.”
In a hurry, Geom Gwi-hon pretended to clear his throat and turned to the massive female martial artist.
“Hey. Where’s the Grand Young Master?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
He looked to the martial artist beside her. The man answered with a troubled expression.
“Earlier, in the heat of the battle, I went looking for him too. I couldn’t find him at all.”
Geom Gwi-hon’s face went slack, unable to comprehend the situation.
“Deputy Head.”
A middle-aged martial artist stepped up.
“You can brag and earn the Grand Young Master’s favor later—”
“What, are you treating me like a damn child?!”
“Anyway, more importantly,” the middle-aged martial artist continued, neatly ignoring him, “we need to decide how we’re going to break through a reorganized enemy.”
“…Hm.”
Geom Gwi-hon turned, and his expression sobered in an instant.
“Line up…! Line up…!”
“Hold your spears steady!”
The densely packed Northern cavalry formed a literal wall of men and horses.
“Even after watching their Death Squad get slaughtered right in front of them, their morale hasn’t broken.”
If anything—
“Kill them! Kill them!”
The enemy looked even more inflamed with fighting spirit.
“Tenacious bastards,” Geom Gwi-hon muttered, clicking his tongue.
“In the past, those Jiangnan bastards… the moment their vanguard got crushed, their heads filled with nothing but fleeing.”
“The Northern tribes…” the middle-aged martial artist said, and his tone carried the weight of someone who’d fought the Northern War before, “their culture’s fundamentally different from Jiangnan or North China.”
“What, do they go to paradise if they die fighting?”
“No.”
The middle-aged martial artist shook his head, calm.
“Those warriors fear death too.”
“Then?”
With everyone’s eyes gathering on him, he answered evenly.
“They fear living in dishonor even more than they fear dying.”
It was, strangely, reminiscent of the Sword Forest. Of the Sword Clan’s martial artists.
“Anyway,” the middle-aged martial artist said, steering them back, “even for our Sword Forest, it’s impossible to break their fully fortified defenses without casualties.”
For Sword Forest martial artists who wore light attire rather than heavy armor, it was a grim reality.
“Deputy Head.”
Another martial artist spoke, unusually cautious.
“How about we leave the next charge to Elder Yeom?”
When everyone’s gaze snapped to him, he broke out in a cold sweat and hurriedly added, stumbling over himself.
“I-I mean…! The War Advisory Group is fundamentally different from us in basic armament, and anyway, they’re the specialists for this kind of situation…!”
He was rambling, but Geom Gwi-hon couldn’t deny he had a point.
“…Tch.”
Geom Gwi-hon smacked his lips.
“It seems the next order of business is—”
Right then.
“Deputy Head…!”
A voice rang out, urgent.
“Deep inside the enemy formation, something’s strange!”
A report from a high vantage point overlooking the enemy camp.
“What is it?!”
Geom Gwi-hon rushed over at once, and the martial artists around him couldn’t hide their bewilderment.
“Over there, sir.”
Following the fingertip, Geom Gwi-hon looked deep into the enemy camp. The martial artist continued, voice tight.
“The atmosphere at the command center in the very rear seemed off, so I kept watching it…”
Another martial artist, pale, added quietly.
“By any chance… that figure over there. Isn’t that the Grand Young Master…?”
Geom Gwi-hon’s eyes widened until they looked ready to burst.
“What did you say?!”
And then, in that instant—
WHAAAAAAM!
A refreshing, resonant impact cracked through the air, reaching them even from this distance. The enemy commander’s escort troops flew up like sheets of paper, bodies thrown into the sky by a force that didn’t care what bone or armor thought of it.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
They tumbled across the ground without a single scream, because their insides had already ruptured. They were dead before they’d even left the earth.
“Huuu…”
Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon took a long, controlled breath. He retracted his extended hands into a starting stance, then spoke.
“This is Shaolin’s Twin Palms of the Tathagata.”
Leisurely, as if teaching in a courtyard, and in the Northern tongue no less, he announced the martial art he’d just used.
“…You crazy bastard!”
Gantuga, Temporary Commander of the left-wing cavalry legion, raised his twin axes and roared at him.
“You’ve lost your mind just because you’re a little confident in your martial arts!”
At that, Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon clasped his hands behind his back and chuckled.
“Whether I’m the one who’s lost his mind, or whether your side has lost its mind by not running away even after seeing me…”
He assumed a new starting stance, voice turning provocatively calm.
“We’ll let the survivor decide.”
“You baaaaastaaaard!”
Despite the roar, Gantuga didn’t charge.
“You will absolutely not return from this place alive!”
Gantuga was one of the Great Warriors who represented his tribe, yes, but more importantly—
Wasn’t this the very center of his own encampment?
There was no reason for a commander to abandon control and personally face the enemy.
“Kill him…!”
At his order, warriors rushed in and swarmed Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon.
“Absolutely do not let your guard down!”
Surrounded by his escorts, Gantuga yelled as he withdrew as calmly as he could manage, not even turning his head.
“Absolutely. Do not give that bastard the opening to use that bizarre strike from earlier—!”
“Hey.”
The shout cut off as if a blade had sliced it clean.
The Grand Young Master’s low, chilling voice rang in Gantuga’s ears.
“A host should properly welcome a guest who has traveled a long way.”
It was definitely coming from the spot surrounded by layers of warriors, and yet it sounded like a whisper delivered directly into Gantuga’s ear.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Startled, Gantuga reflexively looked back.
“…?!”
Astonishingly, he met the Grand Young Master’s gaze, straight on.
“Kuaagh…!”
“Keheugh…!”
Because the warriors surrounding the Grand Young Master had collapsed all at once, as if the world had lied to them.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Under the scorching summer sun—
“……!”
Temporary Commander Gantuga felt a chill that wasn’t just cold.
It was bone-deep, a freeze that seemed to ice over the sweat pouring beneath his armor.
“T-That bastard can’t be handled by ordinary warriors! Great Warriors, step forward…!”
He shoved one of the deputies fleeing alongside him toward the Grand Young Master.
“You step forward yourselves…!”
Dishonorable, perhaps, especially when the chain of command had only just been barely restored.
But Gantuga was already ruled by one thing.
Survival.
“Call all of them!”
“Summon all the Great Warriors in the legion! Stop him, I say!”
“B-But…! The Great Warriors are directing the vanguard—!”
“Shut up!”
Watching the Great Warrior he’d pushed forward charge at Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon, Gantuga screamed.
“The enemy commander is right here! If we just catch him, it’s over! What does anything else matter?!”
And in the meantime—
One exchange.
Two.
Three.
Four.
They were traded in the blink between heartbeats.
“Keuk…!”
Before the words Gantuga had shouted could even fully settle into the air, the deputy Great Warrior he’d pushed forward collapsed, his head entirely gone.
“…?!”
Had Gantuga ever seen a Great Warrior die that easily?
Had he ever even imagined it?
It looked like an absurd, childish nightmare, the kind that made you wake with your throat raw.
“Stop him! Stop him!”
Not even knowing what he was yelling anymore, Gantuga fled.
“C-Commander…!”
“That direction is the frontlines!”
Someone shouted it after him, but Gantuga didn’t look back.
If I run the opposite direction from the rear command center, I’ll be alone on the open plains.
The image of Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon casually popping a Great Warrior’s head like he was plucking an object from a sleeve was burned into his mind.
“The enemy commander is right there! Great Warriors of the tribe, kill him!”
And then, just as he ran against the flow of his own camp, trying to get as far from the Grand Young Master as possible—
“Let’s go! Martial artists of the Sword Forest!”
A shout echoed down from the high ground.
“It’s a golden opportunity provided by the Grand Young Master!”
With the Great Warriors pulled away from the vanguard, the Sword Forest didn’t waste a heartbeat. They poured down and crashed into the enemy like a waterfall.