North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 13

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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13. The Wolf-hide Cloak

Balkar was dead.
Red blood seeped through the slashed Chel Lingua Hide, staining the white snow.
Whishhhhh…!
Wind swept across and dusted the corpse with fresh powder.
That was the funeral of the Northern Sea.
The dead are buried, and the living move on.
Airak took his first step.
Garkan followed at his heels, with Taikan and Arko close behind, and Harku bringing up the rear.
“Unh…”
Harku stumbled.
With each pace he took, his footprints bloomed red across the snow.
“Madman.”
Taikan clicked his tongue.
“Walking just fine with a rib through your side.”
“It does hurt, though,” Harku said.
He wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.
“Every breath stabs the bone like this… it makes me feel alive. It’s not so bad.”
“Sick bastard.”
Taikan shook his head and turned his back.
“Get on.”
“What?”
“Climb up. Don’t pass out and become a burden.”
“No, I’m fine,” Harku said with a soft laugh, refusing him.
He grinned and refused.
“Your back’s too hard to ride on. And your nagging hurts worse than the wound.”
“What? You little—”
Taikan raised his fist, and Harku quickened his limping pace with a giggle.
Arko’s hunched shoulders trembled as he chuckled darkly.
Garkan walked in silence.
Airak, leading at the front, never once looked back.
The night grew deep.
A shallow cave partway up Snow Mountain.
There was no campfire. Smoke would’ve been nothing but a beacon to their enemies.
Airak sat at the mouth of the cave.
A worn wolf-hide cloak rippled in the wind.
Step.
Garkan approached carefully.
“Chieftain.”
……
“Before Balkar died… he mentioned a name. Tara.”
Airak’s brow twitched faintly.
“He said it was something from thirty years ago… Who is Tara? I’ve never heard the name before.”
Airak turned his head.
“A woman I defeated. One of the strongest. You might not know her as Tara, but if I call her the Witch of Frost and Snow, a female warrior once known by that name—would you recall?”
“What?”
Garkan’s eyes widened.
“That’s right.”
“And you… you fought that woman, Chieftain?”
“Just after I became an Unarmed Warrior. She came to me saying she’d defeat an Unarmed Warrior. She mocked it: ‘An Unarmed Warrior? Just an empty title. Prove it.’ That’s what she said.”
“So what happened?”
“We fought. All day long.”
Airak spoke without emotion.
“Her blade was sharp. Cut me in thirty-seven places. The name Witch of Frost and Snow wasn’t hollow—she could strike without leaving footprints in the snow. Fastest blade-user I’ve ever faced. Far faster than those Middle Land swordsmen.”
“Thirty-seven cuts? And your blade, Chieftain?”
“Exactly three times.”
“…Three times?”
“Three times is enough, isn’t it?”
Garkan swallowed hard.
“So that woman….”
“Left. Said next time she wouldn’t lose. Into the blizzard. After that, nothing—until today. Heard she’d raised Balkar. Heh-heh!”
Airak shrugged.
“Balkar said Tara ran away, but she’s not the type. She was avoiding a fight, that’s all. Since Balkar couldn’t finish that match, he became obsessed with me—the one who beat Tara. Old history. Nothing to worry about.”
Silence fell.
Garkan’s gaze lingered on Airak’s cloak.
Wolf hide, torn in places, its color faded.
“Chieftain.”
“What.”
“Shall I make you a new cloak from that Balkar’s hide?”
“No.”
“Chel Lingua Hide would provide warmth and protection both. What you’re wearing now is too….”
“Karani made this for me.”
“……!”
Garkan’s mouth fell silent.
“Thirty years ago. The night before I became Ice Palace Lord.”
Airak gripped the edge of the cloak tightly.
“She stitched it all night. ‘Wear this and don’t be cold.’ Heh-heh!”
“…….”
“That was the last time, wasn’t it…”
Garkan bit his lip.
For thirty years, he had endured that brutal cold, relying on this single worn hide.
Rustle.
Without a word, Garkan removed his own bear hide and spread it beneath Airak’s feet.
“What are you doing?”
“If you rest on my hide, you’ll be somewhat less cold.”
“I don’t need it. Move it away.”
“I cannot.”
Garkan answered brazenly.
“I removed it because I was too warm.”
“…Can’t even lie properly.”
“No, I cannot.”
Garkan dropped himself heavily onto the bare ground.
“And I still won’t move it.”
“Foolish boy.”
Airak clicked his tongue.
But he did not push the bear hide away.
Deeper in the cave.
Though the night was deep, there were those who could not sleep.
“Ngh….”
Harku groaned and twisted restlessly.
“If it hurts, cry out. Why hold it in?”
Arko approached from the darkness.
“Older brother.”
Harku opened his eyes, sweat beading cold on his brow.
“I’m not holding it in. I’m laughing.”
“What’s funny?”
“We’re walking together again.”
“…….”
“After thirty years. At the chieftain’s side.”
Arko said nothing.
“I dreamed of this every single day for thirty years. The chieftain returning, all of us gathering again, fighting together.”
“…….”
“But every time I woke, I was alone. Alone in a cold cave.”
Harku’s voice wavered with emotion.
“I couldn’t bear it unless I laughed like a madman.”
“Don’t whine about it. I did the same thing.”
Arko spoke for the first time.
“What?”
“Thirty years. I walked alone with a hunched back.”
…….
“People would avoid me when they saw me. Hah! They said I was revolting.”
Arko laughed softly.
“But the clan leader didn’t. That’s why I waited. Thirty years.”
“You too?”
“Yes.”
“…We’re all the same, aren’t we?”
Harku chuckled.
“A couple of ribs, brother. This is proof the dream isn’t real. It hurts because it’s genuine.”
Arko placed his hand on Harku’s forehead without speaking.
“You’ve got quite a fever.”
Arko murmured, handing over medicinal herbs.
“Blood Together. Soul Together.”
(Blood and soul as one.)
Harku chuckled again.
“Brother, isn’t that what they say at funerals?”
“We say it for the living too. It means we don’t die.”
“…Ah, is that so?”
“Yeah. So get better quick. Unless you want to hear it at your funeral.”
“Brother.”
“What.”
“Thank you.”
“Shut up. Just heal. I don’t want you becoming a burden.”
Arko turned his hunched back and made his way back.
“Brother.”
“What now.”
“Can I strip the hides off Balkar tomorrow? I could sell them for coin.”
“…This bastard has broken ribs and he’s thinking about money?”
“Because it hurts worse that way. I need coin for painkillers.”
“Madman.”
Arko laughed quietly.
Right. That’s Harku for you. Thirty years and nothing’s changed.
A faint smile hung at the corner of Arko’s mouth as he turned his hunched back away.
The Airak Tribe—the only people who dwelt in the Extreme Darkness—had gathered once more. They would never scatter again.

Dawn.
Garkan approached the mouth of the cave.
“I bow to you, Great Wolf.”
(Greetings, mighty one.)
Airak turned his head.
“That’s enough with the formality.”
“…Yes.”
“Just call me clan leader. Like you did thirty years ago.”
Garkan’s eyes reddened.
“…Understood, clan leader. Did you not sleep through the night?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You need to rest regardless.”
“Sleep feels impossible. Every time I close my eyes, I see Karani’s face. It’s so vivid.”
Airak gazed toward the southern sky.
“She called to me as her blood spilled.”
…….
“That’s why I can’t sleep.”
Garkan clenched his fist.
“I will find those beasts and kill them. I swear it.”
“No.”
Airak shook his head.
“I’ll kill him. You just watch.”
“But….”
“This is something I have to do myself. I can’t let anyone else interfere.”
The sun rose.
Airak’s shadow stretched long across the snowy plain.

* * *

The Middle Land.
A grand manor bathed in warm sunlight.
“I’m so cold….”
The girl trembled violently, her blanket pulled up over her head.
Cheok Harin. Eighteen years old.
Cold-Heat Disease. A cursed affliction born with her—a chill embedded in her very essence from birth.
“Miss, your medicine.”
The maidservant approached carefully with a bowl of herbal broth.
“Will this… really help?”
“Your father retrieved this medicine himself. He promised it would heal you for certain.”
The maidservant spooned the medicine into Cheok Harin’s mouth.
“Ah….”
Cheok Harin’s eyes widened.
Warmth bloomed from deep in her belly.
“It’s warm….”
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I think… I might live.”
Beyond the door, a man watched in silence.
Cheok Un-hwi. The finest swordsman of the Middle Land.
“Thank heavens.”
He murmured the words, but his eyes flickered with unease.
‘The Ice Palace Master….’
The memory of a bloodstained blade. The Snow Lotus Fruit.
The only medicine that could cure his daughter’s illness. A treasure guarded deep in the Northern Sea, protected by the Ice Palace Master himself.
What he had done to obtain it, the world did not yet know—and must never know. To gain that miraculous elixir, he had shaken hands with a demon. No—he had become a demon himself, wielding his sword with a demon’s will.
“Father.”
A thick voice called from behind him.
A young man—his son. Cheok Mu-young.
“How is Harin doing?”
“She’s improving.”
“That’s a relief.”
Cheok Mu-young smiled.
But his eyes did not.
“Father.”
“Yes?”
“There’s talk coming from the Northern Sea.”
“What kind of talk?”
“That the wolves are stirring.”
Cheok Un-hwi’s face hardened.
“Who’s been saying that?”
“Various people. Some say one of the Three Frozen Generals is dead. Others claim the Northern Sea Unarmed Warrior has reappeared. They say he vanished thirty years ago and has just now returned….”
Cheok Mu-young met his father’s gaze.
“Do you know what you’ve disturbed, Father?”
“…….”
“That medicine. It came from the Northern Sea, didn’t it?”
“Mu-young.”
Cheok Un-hwi spoke at last.
“You don’t need to know anything. I will handle it.”
“Father.”
Cheok Mu-young stepped closer.
“Go look after Harin.”
Cheok Mu-young bit his lip.
Father’s shoulders seemed so very heavy.
Cheok Un-hwi gazed toward the northern sky after his son had vanished.
‘The wolf….’
When the Ice Palace Master was dying, those final words she’d spoken came flooding back.
‘He will come… he will come for you….’
That woman’s face, even as she coughed blood, even as she smiled.
Cheok Un-hwi’s fist clenched tight.
No regrets.
For his daughter’s sake, he would make that same choice again, come what may.
But.
‘If that wolf truly is coming….’
The wind stirred.
Through the warm breeze of the Middle Land, the metallic scent of blood began to seep in.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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