Chapter 28: Ill Fate and Fated Ties (3)
Sword hum. It is the sound of a blade vibrating—a supreme phenomenon that only those who have reached the highest realms of martial arts can manifest. The sound varies wildly depending on the nature of the blade’s master.
Like the melody of a Seven String Zither, carrying a clear, pure tone beneath a layer of sorrow—this was the sound of So-mu’s sword hum.
Gleaming beneath the shadow of the branches, his blade absorbed the sunlight, shining brightly. Moving as gracefully as a dancer, the sword traced a beautiful arc, releasing a sharp aura.
Clang!
A heavy clash of steel rang out like a temple bell as the attacking assassin retreated.
So-mu’s eyes gleamed beneath his disheveled hair. He scanned his surroundings, but could sense no trace of another presence. Who could possibly hope to deceive the senses of the Sword Saint?
Yet, the one who was truly shocked was the assassin who had launched the ambush. It was a strike that no master of the Mount Hua Sect had been able to block, yet this mysterious man had parried it flawlessly.
A heavy silence settled around So-mu. Sensing the danger, So-so buried her face in her father’s chest.
‘Where did these assassins come from?’
They were elite assassins, possessing a level of skill rarely seen even in the wider jianghu. Moreover, their methods were incredibly cunning, enough that even So-mu could not afford to be careless.
So-mu extended his sword forward, focusing his senses. Instantly, every minute vibration and movement in the surrounding forest was mapped in his mind.
Suddenly, his ears twitched. Unbelievably, he sensed a presence right within his own shadow.
Without hesitation, So-mu leapt into the air, slicing downward. A streak of crimson sword force erupted from his blade, colliding with the earth and triggering a violent explosion.
Boom!
“Ugh.”
A muffled groan echoed as a shadow darted toward a nearby tree. So-mu was impressed by the assassin’s swift movements.
When So-mu landed, there was no trace of the enemy left. Just then, a thick, white mist began to rise around him.
‘A smoke screen.’
Within a radius of five zhang, a dense fog rolled in, completely obscuring his vision. Even a master’s night vision was useless against this strange, unnatural mist. He could not even identify what substance had been used to create it.
With his sight rendered useless, So-mu closed his eyes. Relying entirely on his other senses, he waited for the assassin’s move.
He could feel the movement of a flock of birds flying a hundred zhang above, their faint chirps echoing through the quiet mountain. Just as the sound faded, a sharp blade cut through the mist, lunging directly at So-mu’s throat.
Whoosh!
A faint blue light shimmered along the tip of the incoming sword—an unstable, unrefined manifestation of sword force. However, it was far inferior to So-mu’s own mastery.
Clang!
At the moment of impact, So-mu felt the assassin falter. Seizing the opening, he launched a swift counterattack. His sword shot forward in a straight line, piercing the assassin’s side.
Thrust!
Yet, his hand felt no resistance. His blade had merely sliced through the fabric of the assassin’s robe, missing the flesh by a hair’s breadth.
In the next instant, the assassin’s body vanished as if evaporating into thin air.
‘Shift and Swap?’
It was a high-level movement technique that allowed the user to instantly swap positions. Suddenly, the assassin was descending upon So-mu from directly above, a look of triumph hidden beneath his mask.
However, he was not the only one who knew such techniques.
Flash!
With a brilliant flash of light, So-mu’s figure vanished, reappearing three zhang away. It was the Flash Shadow Step, a legendary movement technique known to be used by the Sword Saint.
Tired of the assassin’s constant tricks, So-mu’s patience was wearing thin. He could not afford to waste any more time. If more elite assassins of this caliber arrived, his companions would be in grave danger.
“Enough games,” So-mu muttered.
He gently set So-so down on the ground. “Stay right here. Do not move.”
Sheathing his sword, So-mu spread his feet and lowered his stance. Gripping the hilt, he took a perfect quick-draw stance. He was going to end this in a single strike.
Sensing the shift, the hidden assassin also prepared his ultimate technique. A chilling, suffocating silence froze the air.
Just then, a painful scream echoed from the direction of Cheong-hae and Il-gwang.
“Aaargh!”
At that exact moment, a streak of white mist shot toward So-mu from three zhang away, moving like lightning.
So-mu’s hand blurred as he drew his blade.
Talhon Sword Technique: First Form, Soul-Reaping Flash.
A blinding flash of light cut through the darkness. A breath later, the sound of slicing flesh echoed.
Slash!
The strike was so fast that the sound of the cut only registered after the blade had already passed. It was the moment the Talhon Sword Technique, the unique martial art of the Sword Saint, returned to the world.
The white mist that had rushed past So-mu turned into a spray of blood. As the mist cleared, a masked figure knelt on the ground. His sword was snapped in half, and blood poured from a deep gash across his waist.
So-mu scooped up So-so and approached the dying man.
“You are not from the Shadow Gate. Who sent you?”
There was no reply.
“Was it Yingjiao?”
So-mu caught the subtle flinch in the assassin’s shoulders.
“So it was.”
Further questions were pointless. The assassin drew the broken shard of his blade across his own throat.
Thud.
As the body fell, So-mu noticed a booklet protruding from the assassin’s robe. It was a martial manual. Having already perfected his own path, So-mu had no greed for other techniques, but curiosity got the better of him.
Four characters were written on the cover:
Dancing Shadow Sword Formation.
It was a high-level formation of the Mount Hua Sect, designed to be executed by dozens or even hundreds of swordsmen at once. So-mu had heard of it before.
‘This is perfect. My men need a proper formation technique, and now I have a suitable excuse to give them.’
Tucking the manual into his robe, he headed toward Cheong-hae and Il-gwang.
They were about ten zhang away, having just finished their own fight. Hyeon-jeong was gasping for breath, while Cheong-hae and Il-gwang stood perfectly steady, their breathing undisturbed.
As they approached, So-so chirped happily, “Uncle Il-gwang, what are you doing?”
She showed no fear at the sight of the corpses, likely due to her repressed memories of that horrific night.
“Hold on a second,” Il-gwang grunted, crouching down to search the bodies of the masked men.
Hyeon-jeong watched in disbelief as the giant casually plundered the martial manuals of the Mount Hua Sect right before his eyes.
A moment later, Il-gwang successfully pulled out a booklet. Three characters were written on the cover:
Mountain-Cleaving Fist.
Although Mount Hua was predominantly a sword sect, they possessed one high-level fist technique recognized throughout the jianghu. Created by the third-generation Sect Leader, the Mountain-Cleaving Fist was famous for its raw, destructive power.
Il-gwang casually tucked the manual into his robe. Knowing little of the jianghu’s affairs, he had no idea whether the manual belonged to the Mount Hua Sect or the masked assassins.
Cheong-hae remained indifferent, but Hyeon-jeong was dumbfounded. Yet, he could not bring himself to demand it back. He lacked the strength to take it from Il-gwang, and with the sect destroyed, such protests felt meaningless.
“What are you staring at?” Il-gwang grunted.
Hyeon-jeong swallowed his pride and looked away. “N-Nothing.”
Cheong-hae turned to him, his face filled with worry. “Senior Brother Hyeon-jeong, what happened here?”
“Exactly what it looks like. Everyone—the Plum Blossom Sword Guards, the elders—they were all slaughtered in the ambush. I’ve been running through the mountains like a dog for the past two days just to survive.”
“Is my master…”
“I am sorry, Cheong-hae. The elders stayed behind to buy us time to escape… We must leave quickly. There are hundreds more of these assassins searching the mountain.”
The situation was far worse than they had imagined. Although Cheong-hae was consumed by grief, So-mu knew they could not tarry. If another elite assassin like the one he had just fought appeared, they would be in trouble.
“Cheong-hae. You remember our promise?” So-mu asked quietly.
It was the agreement to withdraw if the situation grew too dangerous. Although leaving his master’s body unburied cut Cheong-hae to the quick, they had no choice.
“Yes, Commander… I will lead the way.”
“No, I will lead. Carry So-so.”
So-so reached out her arms, and Cheong-hae took her. “Let’s go, So-so.”
“Move out,” So-mu commanded, taking the lead.
So-mu spread his senses to their absolute limit, guiding the group through the safest paths. Having already mapped the area, leading them out of the mountain was not difficult.
After running for about fifteen minutes, So-so’s quiet voice drifted from behind.
“Uncle Cheong-hae, are you crying?”
“No… just a little…”
“Why?”
“Because I miss someone I love…”
“Someone you love? Who is it?”
“My father…”
So-so buried her face in Cheong-hae’s shoulder and began to sob. She had understood the meaning of their conversation.
“Waaaah… Is Uncle Cheong-hae’s father dead?”
“I miss him… so much…”
Their voices faded, replaced by Cheong-hae’s silent weeping as So-so sobbed in his arms.
So-mu felt a heavy weight in his chest as he listened. To Cheong-hae, his master had been more than a teacher; he had been a father. To leave his master’s body behind to rot was a terrible burden. So-mu understood his grief all too well.
The group ran in silence until they finally cleared the boundaries of Mount Hua. After another half an hour, they reached a ruined temple.
Taewon Temple. This abandoned sanctuary had once been a place of study for monks, and it remained relatively well-preserved.
Just then, a loud growl echoed from Il-gwang’s stomach.
“Ugh. I’m going to starve to death before we even make it back to Hanzhong. Can we rest and find something to eat here?”
Indeed, they hadn’t eaten all day. So-mu looked around, spotting Cheong-hae sitting silently in a corner of the courtyard, staring blankly into space, with So-so crouching beside him trying to comfort him.
“I will go find a wild boar or something. Start a fire while I am gone,” So-mu said.
With that, So-mu slipped out of the temple, vanishing from sight. The moment he cleared the courtyard, his speed exploded. He shot back toward Yeonhua Peak on Mount Hua like a bolt of lightning.
It was the maximum speed of the Sword Saint—a streak of pure lightning. His movement cut through the air, raising a howling gale behind him.
‘Elder Mu-hyeon was Cheong-hae’s master, right?’
He had met the elder once during the war against the Demonic Cult. Although Mu-hyeon’s martial arts weren’t outstanding, So-mu remembered him as a kind, upright man.
Ten minutes later, a sudden gale swept into the silent ruins of the Mount Hua Sect. Having visited the sect years ago, So-mu knew exactly where to go.
The corpses of countless Taoists littered the paths. Using his superhuman senses, So-mu quickly began searching for his target.
He could feel the murderous presence of several assassins closing in on the area, but he ignored them, focusing on his task.
It was not difficult to identify the elders by their robes. In the courtyard of the Taihua Pavilion, the bodies of the elders lay clustered together. So-mu’s figure blurred as he swept through the courtyard, scooping up a single body.
A dozen assassins lunged at him from all directions, but none could match his speed. Like a ghost, his figure stretched and vanished, breaking the encirclement in an instant. A moment later, he was gone. The bewildered assassins stared at one another, wondering if they had seen a phantom.
About thirty minutes later, So-mu returned to Taewon Temple carrying a wild boar in one hand.
And slung over his shoulder was the body of an old Taoist priest.
At the sight of the body, Cheong-hae leapt to his feet, his chest heaving with emotion. So-mu offered a nonchalant look.
“I stumbled upon him while searching for the boar. It seems a few Taoists managed to run this far before they died. Do you know him?”
Cheong-hae could no longer hold back his tears, weeping openly as he fell to his knees.