Half a shichen after sending an envoy to the Mount Heng Sword Sect, Pung Yang gave the order without hesitation.
“Attack.”
A swift, decisive battle.
The longer it dragged on, the worse it would be for him. Word that the Red Wind Band had surrounded the Mount Heng Sword Sect would spread quickly, and if outside forces—especially the Jin Family of Taiyuan—intervened, things would become troublesome.
I never expected to enter without bloodshed in the first place.
She might be a woman, but she carried the blood of the Blood Wolf Sword, Lee Cheonbaek.
If words and gestures couldn’t tame her, he would have to subdue her with violence—the same method Pung Yang had always used.
Bwooooooong!
Powerful horn calls rang out from every direction. At the advance signal used by the mounted-bandit groups of Gaoyuan, the mounted bandits of the Red Wind Band surrounding the Mount Heng Sword Sect kicked their horses in the ribs as one.
“Chaaaarge!”
“Kill every last one of them!”
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
Hundreds of hooves raced forward, trampling the snow-covered ground.
The horn calls continued without pause, strong and carrying far into the distance.
Ding!
System
Circulate Qi was successfully completed.
A small amount of Fatigue and Stamina has been restored.
The moment I heard the System notification and opened my eyes, I looked around.
“Did you guys just hear something?”
Wolhwa and Hyuk Mujin, who had been feeding hay to the horses, looked at me in confusion.
“Young Master Jin, what sound?”
“There’s always sound. Listen—the horses chewing hay, the wind…”
“Not that crap, you idiot.”
“Then what?”
“A-a vuvuzela?”
“Vuvu… what?”
“The thing people use to cheer at sporting events… Never mind. It’s a thing.”
I gave up trying to explain and stared in the direction the sound had come from—or rather, the direction I thought it had come from.
Coincidentally, it was north, toward the Mount Heng Sword Sect—the very direction we were heading.
Did I hear it wrong?
According to Wolhwa, we still had another three shichen—six hours—of riding before we reached the Mount Heng Sword Sect. Whatever had happened, we were too far away to hear it from here.
Unless it was cannon fire.
Jin Mukyung, who had just finished circulating his qi, added his opinion.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“But I could’ve sworn I heard something.”
“You imagined it.”
“Something might have happened at the Mount Heng Sword Sect.”
“That’s possible. But I didn’t hear anything.”
“But I’m telling you, I think I heard something.”
“So I’m telling you that you imagined it.”
“Based on what?”
“It’s simple. There’s no way you heard something I couldn’t.”
“…”
That was incredibly irritating, but he was right, so I couldn’t argue.
Seeing me at a loss for words, Jin Mukyung clicked his tongue.
“If you don’t want to die to a stray blade, focus on keeping your mind and body under control. You never know what might happen on a battlefield.”
Look who’s lecturing whom.
When it came to combat experience, no one here could match me.
I only looked the same as usual because I had grown so accustomed to it. When it came to preparing for and taking part in battle, I was already thoroughly battle-hardened.
“There are a lot of enemies, so conserve as much internal energy as possible and keep your movements to a minimum. I’ll take the lead. Just follow me, and you’ll be fine.”
Was he worried about me because we shared the same blood?
Come to think of it, Mukyung had made his dislike painfully obvious, yet he had still helped me a great deal.
He had helped with my training, agreed to accompany me to the Mount Heng Sword Sect, and, I’d heard, had even put considerable effort into reforming his lazy little brother when they were children.
Even if Jin Wikyung had asked him to, he couldn’t have done all that if he truly hated me.
Maybe he’s actually a soft-hearted guy.
Was this what people called a tsundere?
I gazed at Jin Mukyung sentimentally, almost feeling a little moved.
Our eyes met.
“What are you looking at? Eyes down.”
“…”
“If you take even a single wound from those mounted-bandit bastards, I’ll kill you myself.”
“…Yeah, sure.”
That’s more like it. Tsundere, my ass.
I must have lost my mind for a moment to imagine something so ridiculous.
Accepting reality, I was about to transfer my saddle to one of the spare horses we had taken earlier when Hyuk Mujin sidled over with a deeply worried expression.
“Second Young Master, you aren’t going to kill me too, are you?”
“…Are you saying it’s okay if I die?”
“Ah, no! Why would you put it like that?”
“I’ll make sure to kill you before I die, so shut up and get ready to leave.”
I kicked Hyuk Mujin in the rear as he grumbled under his breath, then mounted my horse.
The Mount Heng Sword Sect was still three shichen away.
From here on, we had to ride hard without taking a single break.
System
Time Limit: 6:25:19
The Mount Heng Sword Sect was like a fortress. Its towering stone walls were sturdy enough to be called castle walls, and they were fitted with all manner of defensive structures for withstanding a siege.
Built more than thirty years ago under the uncompromising will of the founding Sect Leader, Lee Cheonbaek, those defenses were finally serving their purpose.
“Fire!”
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!
Dozens of arrows loosed in unison rained down on the charging cavalry.
But the most common weapons in Gaoyuan were spears, sabers, and bows. Accustomed to fighting in Gaoyuan, the mounted bandits of the Red Wind Band raised the shields strapped to one arm before anyone even gave the order.
Thud! Thump!
Only a dozen or so men fell from their horses.
The shields, made from bone-dry wood faced with hide from an old horse’s rump, stopped the arrows admirably.
“Ha ha ha! These punks don’t know their elders when they see them, and they dare—!”
That was when it happened.
Fwoosh—crack!
Something hurtled through the air with ferocious momentum, pierced the horse’s neck, and buried itself in the Captain’s chest.
Having only just entered the early stages of First Rate, he stared at the arrow protruding from his chest as though he couldn’t believe it, then toppled over together with his prized horse.
Several of the riders behind him lost formation and fell one after another.
“Crossbows! Watch for the crossbows!”
“Return fire!”
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!
If the Mount Heng Sword Sect’s attack had been a passing shower, the Red Wind Band’s barrage was a torrential downpour.
Even on horseback, they drew and loosed without pause. Their arrows flew fast and true.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Aaargh!”
“Hide behind your shields! Don’t stick your heads out!”
Taking advantage of the opening, the mounted bandits spurred their horses forward and set grappling hooks and makeshift ladders against the walls, which stood more than ten jang high. They began attempting to breach the fortress.
A melee erupted atop the walls.
Screams and blood burst forth.
“Ha ha! Kill them all!”
“Don’t let them climb up!”
Lee Seowol watched it all from the highest watchtower. Her lips trembled, and the color had drained from her face.
So this is the Murim.
The screams of the dying. The desperate struggles of those who wanted to live.
The world of the strong preying on the weak that she had finally encountered was more brutal and frightening than she had imagined.
But…
I can’t retreat.
Countless people had already died. Those who were going to leave had left, while those who remained were fighting with their lives on the line.
Lee Seowol was now the Sect Leader who had to lead them, and she was bound to share her fate with the Mount Heng Sword Sect.
“Sect Leader! The walls are in danger! We need to send reinforcements!”
“They’re breaking down the gate with a battering ram!”
“Sect Leader! You must do something!”
“Sect Leader!”
As urgent reports rained down from every direction, Lee Seowol spoke.
“When I give the signal, fire one fire arrow toward the walls and two toward the gate. And, Uncle Cheol.”
Cheol Mubaek, who had been standing guard beside her, answered.
“Tell me what you need.”
“The gate will be breached soon. Can you buy us a little time?”
“By myself?”
“I can only apologize for making such a difficult request.”
“One against a hundred. I’ve always wanted to try that.”
“The uncle I know is a master who can face ten thousand men. Still, please be careful.”
“All right. Do you really think those bastards could get the better of me?”
Cheol Mubaek laughed heartily and leaped down.
With the Tiger of Mount Heng—a consummate Peak master—guarding the gate, no one would get through unless Pung Yang himself stepped forward.
More. Just a little longer.
Lee Seowol gazed down at the fierce battle before suddenly shouting like a thunderclap.
“Now!”
The two martial artists who had been waiting for her command each drew their bowstrings.
The next moment, the fire arrows soared into the darkening winter sky and shone brightly above everyone’s heads.
The fire arrows falling like meteors were clearly visible even to Pung Yang, more than a hundred jang away.
He muttered to himself.
So they had a move hidden up their sleeve.
It didn’t take long for his guess to become certainty.
A moment later, enormous flames erupted around the walls.
Fwoosh! Fwoooosh!
“Aaargh!”
Burning alive was one of the most painful ways to die.
The mounted bandits of the Red Wind Band, massed beneath the walls like a swarm of ants, writhed and screamed horribly.
The ropes attached to the grappling hooks snapped, and the wooden ladders were engulfed in flames.
“Attack!”
“Kill every last one of those mounted-bandit bastards!”
Those waiting below to climb and those still climbing burned to death, while those who had already reached the top were stabbed and slashed by weapons converging from every direction.
“So they did make some preparations…”
As Pung Yang stared impassively at the battlefield, a mounted bandit returned, his body blackened in patches like charcoal.
“What happened?”
“L-Leader. Our losses are too great!”
The moment he reached Pung Yang, the mounted bandit threw himself flat on the ground and continued breathlessly.
“From the first assault until now, at least a hundred men must have died. More importantly, after that fire attack, our brothers’ morale is…”
“The gate?”
“Pardon?”
“What happened to the gate?”
“We broke through, but the Tiger of Mount Heng, Cheol Mubaek, is holding it alone…”
“Alone?”
“Yes. His martial arts are so formidable that no one dares step forward.”
“Then that’s enough.”
As he spoke, Pung Yang held out his hand.
The mounted bandit instinctively reached to take it, only for his body to tilt and collapse.
A dagger was buried deep between his brows, his expression frozen in confusion.
“How many troops do we have left?”
The subordinate who served as Pung Yang’s right hand was accustomed to such sights. He glanced at the corpse and answered.
“By a rough count, a little over a hundred and fifty but not quite two hundred. It’s true that our losses are heavier.”
“How much worse do you think theirs are? The men on those walls are the Mount Heng Sword Sect’s final bulwark.”
“You mean those few men are all they have left?”
“Yes.”
“It isn’t that I doubt you, Leader, but what if they have another trap like that fire attack…?”
“That’s what they’re counting on.”
Pung Yang let out a derisive laugh. He didn’t know whose strategy it had been, but they had played it quite cleverly.
If I had been less experienced, I would have suspected another trap and pulled our forces back.
They’re struggling to buy time. Are they waiting for someone’s support?
If so, there was even less reason to hesitate.
The few could not stand against the many. Even after suffering considerable losses, the Red Wind Band would have no trouble wiping out the Mount Heng Sword Sect.
And besides…
“I’m going myself.”
“You’re going yourself, Leader?”
“Yes. We have a tiger to catch, don’t we?”
Pung Yang burst into a hearty laugh and felt inside his robes out of habit.
A hard wooden case rested there.
Inside was something that could bring down a tiger in one go.
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