Chapter 29: A Race Against Time
Yul Han’s carriage, which had departed amid the grand send-off of the Martial Alliance Leader and the Strategist, moved at high speed just as it had on the way there.
It was not a region where one could travel at ease while enjoying the scenery, and moreover, the Bright Cult had still failed to procure a significant portion of the rice it needed.
Perhaps because of that, Flashing Light Blood, who drove the carriage, chose the shortest possible route for the return.
The plan was to depart Henan, cut across the central regions of Shaanxi and Gansu, and then enter the Cheonghae Region.
The Vice Cult Leader, who listened to the explanation of the route while riding in the carriage, nodded in agreement, but Cold Blade Blood, seated beside the driver’s bench, could not hide his concern.
“Will it be all right?”
“Why? What worries you?” Flashing Light Blood asked in return.
Cold Blade Blood answered.
“Shaanxi should be fine. We passed through safely on the way here while Mount Hua kept quiet, so chances are we can pass again without incident. But Gansu might be different.”
“Gansu… you mean Kongtong?”
“Yeah. Those bastards don’t exactly have good feelings toward us.”
When he said us, Cold Blade Blood briefly glanced back toward the rear of the carriage where the Vice Cult Leader rode. Flashing Light Blood had no trouble understanding the implication.
Fifteen years ago, and again this time, Kongtong had suffered enormous damage at the Vice Cult Leader’s hands. The concern was that they might seize this chance to hold them back under the pretext of revenge.
“It’s worrying, sure, but do they even have the ability? Weren’t they basically wiped out?”
“Did you forget what those Hundred Paths types are like? No matter how much you dig them up, the roots never get pulled out. They sprout back up like weeds.”
What Cold Blade Blood feared were the so-called reclusive masters of the Hundred Paths.
More than once, just when it seemed everything had been smashed to pieces, reclusive masters no one even knew existed would suddenly pop out and overturn the situation.
Because of that, Flashing Light Blood could not give a confident answer either.
Seeing him hesitate, Cold Blade Blood asked again.
“What about prioritizing safety and going back the way we came?”
“You don’t mean going all the way back through Tibet. You mean passing through Shaanxi and Sichuan to enter Cheonghae?”
“Exactly. Sichuan’s a place we already turned upside down once, so there’s a good chance they’ll stay quiet again this time.”
Flashing Light Blood pondered for a moment, then asked,
“But what if it’s the opposite? What if, because they suffered so badly before, they’ve sworn never to let us pass this time?”
At that, Cold Blade Blood could not say he was wrong. The Hundred Paths were people for whom anything was possible.
In truth, underlying all these worries was a deep mistrust that the Hundred Paths would not simply honor an agreement and let them pass.
In the end, since it was dangerous either way, Cold Blade Blood agreed to cut straight through by the shortest route. Thus, Flashing Light Blood’s proposal to pass through Shaanxi and Gansu was accepted as is.
And so, after leaving Henan behind, Yul Han’s carriage entered Shaanxi.
In the central-southern part of Shaanxi lay a small village called Shangnan. At the entrance to this village, through which one of the main roads connecting Henan and Shaanxi passed, stood a small mountain.
This small mountain, said to have once been the site of a blood-soaked war, came to be called Ghost Mountain because ghosts were said to appear there at night.
Even now, centuries after the war, people were occasionally said to be possessed by ghosts and suffer accidents, so it was a road few traveled after dark.
In broad daylight, with the sun hanging at its zenith, a group of martial artists entered Ghost Mountain. They were Daoists in neat robes and properly worn Daoist caps.
With Mount Hua nearby, one might have thought they were Daoists of Mount Hua, but unlike Mount Hua’s white robes and black caps, these Daoists wore pale, bluish, water-colored robes.
In all the world, there was only one group that wore water-colored robes. They were the Daoists of the Kongtong Sect.
Looking closely, the figure of Seven-Aspect True Person, who had been at the Martial Alliance, could be seen among them.
There were three of them—the same number as the delegation Kongtong had sent to the Martial Alliance to deal with the “incident.”
They had left the Martial Alliance about half a day later than Yul Han’s group. The reason they had arrived ahead of them was because they had traveled using lightness skill.
No matter how fast it ran, a carriage was still slower than the lightness skill of top masters.
To be honest, if they had not lost some time confirming which route the Bright Cult’s carriage was taking, they could have arrived much earlier than this.
In any case, once the Kongtong Daoists arrived, a single message hawk took flight from among them.
At Seven-Aspect True Person’s glance as he watched the hawk grow distant, two Daoists split up.
There was something they needed to find—and they needed to find it quickly, racing against time.
As the crimson sunset dragged a long tail and vanished into the curtain of darkness over Mount Hua, a message hawk descended. Immediately afterward, lights were lit within the grounds, and commotion began to spread.
The emergency letter requesting aid from Kongtong, one of the Nine Sects, was treated with utmost seriousness.
It was not somewhere else, but Shaanxi—their own backyard—and a brother sect that was practically family had been threatened.
An elders’ council was hastily convened, and after a brief discussion, they decided to dispatch a group of martial artists beyond the mountain gate.
Leading six peak masters and two supreme peak masters into the darkness-shrouded Mount Hua was Mount Hua’s pride, the Heavenly Flower Sword King.
As the gazes watching those departing figures faded, dozens of martial artists wielding broad sabers followed after them like the wind.
Since Ghost Mountain was still a mountain, bandits existed there. Of course, they were too small in scale to be called forest brigands, and the abilities of those belonging to the band were hardly worthy of being called martial artists.
In short, they were a group of petty rogues who had gathered together and played at being bandits because life was hard.
In reality, they did not rob merchants crossing the mountain, but survived by stealing from nearby villages at the foot of the mountain.
They had set up a mountain stronghold in the forest because Ghost Mountain’s reputation kept people away, making it a convenient hideout.
Within that stronghold, screams rang out and blood flowed everywhere. In the moonlight illuminating the chaos, one might have glimpsed water-colored robes.
Seven-Aspect True Person stood waiting along one of Ghost Mountain’s mountain paths, his expression taut with tension.
This plan was a race against time. Depending on how precisely the timing was matched, success or failure would be decided.
They—Kongtong—had done everything they needed to do. They had sent the message hawk to draw Mount Hua in, and they had laid out excuses to present afterward throughout the area.
For now, those excuses were hidden, but once things began, they would pour forth and serve as Kongtong’s justification.
The remaining question was whether the Peng Clan would move as promised. Just as that worry deepened, a martial artist wielding the broad saber symbolic of the Peng Clan came running.
“As expected, perhaps wary of a nighttime attack, their speed isn’t that fast, but they are definitely coming this way.”
“I knew they wouldn’t turn a blind eye. Now we need to cast the bait.”
“My lightness skill is fast, so I’ll handle it. I’ll move immediately.”
“I wish you good fortune.”
At Seven-Aspect True Person’s words, the Peng Clan martial artist bowed his head and vanished in the opposite direction from which he had come.
Watching the direction he disappeared in, Seven-Aspect True Person’s face grew even more tense than before.
Yul Han’s group set up camp for the night on a mountainside just short of Shangnan.
Since they were traveling along the main road, they could have entered the village and stayed at an inn, but Yul Han preferred camping out.
Inns teeming with Hundred Paths martial artists who grew tense at the sight of the Bright Cult’s markings did not feel restful at all.
Perhaps because of that, Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood had no particular complaints about camping out either. As they rested comfortably, something suddenly came rushing toward them at great speed.
Yul Han sensed it first, but because he felt no killing intent from the other party, he did not pay it much attention.
Soon after, Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood almost simultaneously caught the presence rapidly approaching.
After exchanging glances, Flashing Light Blood stayed behind while Cold Blade Blood moved swiftly.
It was simply the execution of his proper duty as guide and escort.
Yul Han’s gaze, which had been about to stop Cold Blade Blood as he dashed out, settled.
The rapidly approaching presence suddenly reversed direction and sped away at a frightening pace.
The problem was that from the direction it fled, a faint scent of blood drifted in.
Before they paid close attention like this, it had been too distant and faint to notice, but it was unmistakably the smell of blood.
Uneasy about leaving it alone, Yul Han followed after, launching his movement art, and Blood Wolf ran after him like a mad puppy chasing its master.
Left behind, Flashing Light Blood alternated glances between the carriage and the rapidly receding presences, then finally chased after Yul Han.
The distance between Cold Blade Blood and the fleeing figure closed in an instant.
Just when it felt as though, with only a few more breaths, he could grab the back of its neck, corpses rained down from the sky.
In truth, they had fallen from the tops of the forested trees, but to Cold Blade Blood as he ran, it looked as if bodies were pouring down like rain from the heavens.
Startled into halting his steps, Cold Blade Blood’s gaze met the cold eyes of Seven-Aspect True Person and two Daoists standing there.
The one he had been chasing only moments before brushed past the three of them as if nothing were amiss and vanished.
As Cold Blade Blood tilted his head in confusion at the incomprehensible sight, one of the Daoists standing beside Seven-Aspect True Person suddenly slashed his own shoulder with his sword and screamed.
“Kraaaargh!”
As if they had been waiting for that very moment, Mount Hua’s masters stormed in.
Perfectly timed with them, as if prearranged, Yul Han, Blood Wolf, and Flashing Light Blood arrived as well.
In the brief instant before either side could properly identify the other, yet another group of martial artists charged in.
“Villains attacking fellow Daoists of the Kongtong Sect! Attack!”
At the shout that shook the forest, more than twenty martial artists roared and drew their broad sabers, charging straight at Yul Han’s group.
As the situation unfolded, some of the excited Mount Hua masters ran out alongside them, and in the end even the Heavenly Flower Sword King was swept along.
The Mount Hua masters who had rushed out moved faster than those who had run ahead of them.
That was because, for some reason, the speed of those in front suddenly dropped sharply.
For that reason, the first to actually collide with Yul Han’s group were the Mount Hua masters, with the Heavenly Flower Sword King at their head.
Given the abilities of those charging in, one would have expected blood to fly and a deadly melee to erupt immediately, but instead, the fight stopped the very moment they collided.
Bang!
With a thunderous crash, the Heavenly Flower Sword King, who had been charging at the very front, was slammed straight into the ground.
At first, the Mount Hua masters tried to rush in without hesitation to rescue him.
But—
-Stop!
At the lightning-like mental voice of the Heavenly Flower Sword King, the movements of the Mount Hua masters froze as if painted in place.
Only then could they see clearly.
The face of the man who had shattered the Heavenly Flower Sword King’s attack and pinned him to the ground with one hand.
And the Mount Hua masters realized why the Heavenly Flower Sword King had so urgently stopped them.
“E-Emperor Salyejin…!”
At that name, which escaped someone’s mouth like a groan, shock flooded the faces of the Mount Hua masters.