North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 42

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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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42. Repaying Kindness with Enmity

“If there’s someone to save, we should save them.”
Serian spoke again.
The party’s footsteps halted as they wound around the mountain path. Airak remained motionless, his back still turned.
“I said it before. It’s not our concern.”
“I know.”
Serian’s voice grew softer.
“But we should save them. If there are people alive.”
Silver hair rippled in the wind behind him, and eyes the color of pale gray-blue fixed upon his back.
In that gaze, he saw someone else.
Thirty years ago.
Those eyes had held the same light.

…I want to help.
Karani’s voice echoed in his ears.
In the middle of the snowy wasteland of the Northern Sea, her outstretched hand before the starving refugees. That face, smiling as she shared her own rations.
…Helping people isn’t difficult. You just have to reach out your hand.
Airak knew what had become of that hand. The cold body that lay in Bing Sim Jeon.
A corpse marked with eight sword wounds.

“Karani would have done the same.”
Serian’s words cut through the memory, and Airak turned slowly to face her.
“What did you say?”
“Karani would have saved them.”
Silence settled over them.
The wind picked up, scattering Serian’s silver hair. The same hair overlapped with Karani’s. The same pale gray-blue eyes. The same stubborn will.
…….
Airak’s lips moved, but no words came forth.
Garkan asked carefully.
“Chieftain?”
After a long silence, the answer fell.
“Taikan.”
“Yes.”
“The bandit den. Are there any captives?”
Taikan’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the hilltop. His Cheonri-an pierced through the trees and drew the interior of the den into focus.
“…There are. Five of them. They’re bound with rope.”
Serian’s eyes brightened.
The chieftain turned on his heel.
“Only this once.”
The silver-haired woman followed, asking.
“Why did you change your mind?”
There was no answer.
Serian did not press further, and in her eyes, Karani’s shadow seemed to flicker behind his retreating form.
A gust of wind swept past.
Serian’s silver hair and the hem of Airak’s ash-colored robe swayed in the same direction. The distance between their footsteps remained five paces. Neither closing nor widening.

The bandit den was sloppy.
Three dilapidated houses on the hillside. Only two stood watch, while the rest drank inside—unaware, it seemed, that their companions had fallen.
Airak gestured.
Two of Taikan’s arrows split the wind, striking both sentries’ throats simultaneously. They fell without a sound.
“Go.”
Harku charged first. The Ssang A Do sang as it left its sheath.
He kicked the door open.
“What the—!”
Three bandits sitting at a drinking table lurched to their feet. But Harku’s blade found the first one’s throat, and blood sprayed across the table.
“Argh!”
A scream pierced the air as the second attacker thrust a spear forward, but Harku slipped to the side and ran along the shaft, his blade puncturing the man’s chest.
The third fled.
As he bolted toward the back door, the Bing Chel Swae coiled around his ankle, and when the chain yanked tight, he crashed face-first into the ground.
Garkan stepped over and pressed his foot down on the man’s neck.
“Quiet now.”
Bone cracked. The thrashing stopped.
From the adjacent building came screams as Arko’s poison needles dropped three men, and Serian’s Eun Seol sliced through a fourth man’s wrist.
“Aaaah! My hand!”
The man with the severed wrist shrieked, and Serian raised her blade again.
“Be quiet.”
She struck once more, silencing his cries.
Airak, without even drawing his sword, shoved open the door to the largest building and found roughly twenty brigands inside, with five bound figures huddled in the corner.
“What—what’s happening!”
One of the bandits shouted.
“Who are you!”
Airak answered by walking in.
The man at the front swung his sword—a horizontal slash aimed at Airak’s middle.
Airak stepped back half a pace, and the blade whistled through empty air.
An opening. He reached through it and seized the bandit’s throat. Then he lifted.
“Choke!”
His feet pedaled uselessly in the void.
As Airak tightened his grip, the man’s windpipe crushed, his eyes bulging as though they might burst from their sockets.
Thud.
When he released his hand, the corpse dropped to the floor.
“Mon—monster!”
The bandits recoiled.
As his companions filtered in behind him, Garkan’s Bing Chel Swae slithered across the ground while Harku’s Ssang A Do painted the air with blood.
The melee was brief.
When fifteen of the twenty had fallen, the remaining five leaped through the windows and fled. Taikan’s arrows pierced three of them from behind, and only two disappeared into the forest.
“Should we pursue them?”
Taikan asked.
“No.”
The leader shook his head.
“Waste of time.”
Serian rushed to the corner and knelt before the five bound figures.
“Are you all right?”
She drew the Eun Seol and cut through their bonds. The rope marks on their wrists had darkened to an ugly purple.
“Th—thank you….”
A middle-aged merchant’s eyes glistened as he reached for her hand.
“Our savior! Thank you!”
The young man beside him bowed repeatedly.
“You saved our lives… we’re truly grateful!”
Serian smiled.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, no… we were only starved for a few days, but we’re unharmed….”
As the remaining three had their bonds released, they rubbed their wrists and got to their feet—an elderly man and two young women. All five wore merchant’s clothes, appearing to be survivors from the caravan that had been attacked earlier.
“They dragged us here… we didn’t know what would happen to us….”
One of the young women wiped her eyes.
The silver-haired woman rose and spoke.
“You’re safe now. Go wherever you need to go.”
The merchants voiced their thanks repeatedly.
“Our savior! Please, we must repay you somehow. Your name, if we may….”
That was when the middle-aged merchant’s gaze swept over Serian’s appearance.
Silver hair. Leather garments. A curved dagger at her waist.
“I—could it be….”
His voice changed.
“Where are you from?”
She tilted her head slightly.
“The Northern Sea. Why?”
The merchant’s face went pale.
“The Northern Sea…?”
Arko stepped forward from behind.
“We came from the Northern Sea.”
His hunched back and murky gaze entered the merchants’ field of vision. Harku burst into laughter while wiping blood from the Ssang A Do, and Garkan’s massive frame blocked the doorway.
Airak leaned against the window with his arms crossed, his grey eyes sweeping indifferently across the merchants.
Terror rippled through them.
“Northern Sea… Northern Sea Barbarians…!”
A middle-aged merchant screamed.
“It’s them! The savages who attacked the village days ago!”
A young man cried out.
“That’s right! The ones who came down from the north! They killed everyone in the village!”
Another merchant tried to interject.
“No, wait… they just saved us….”
“Don’t be fooled!”
The middle-aged merchant shouted.
“It’s all a trick! They’re gaining our trust so they can stab us in the back! Run!”
The merchants scattered.
They kicked open the door and bolted, screaming as they tumbled down the hillside.
“Help! Barbarians! There are Barbarians!”
Serian stood frozen.
“…We just saved them.”
Airak approached her.
His grey eyes looked down at the silver-haired woman.
“Do you understand now why I didn’t save them?”
Serian bit her lip.
No answer came.
Central Plains folk. Even saved, they call us Barbarians. They repay kindness with enmity.
Not anger. Not sorrow. Only a hollow emptiness.
Disillusionment.
This was the Central Plains.
The strength drained from Serian’s hand.
A single drop of blood fell from the blade’s edge onto the dusty floor. She stared at that drop for a long time. A very long time.

One remained.
An old man. Too aged to run. He sat in the corner, breathing heavily.
Serian approached him.
“Are you all right?”
The old man lifted his head. Exhaustion filled his weathered face.
“…I’m grateful.”
He paused.
“But because of you, we’re in far greater danger now.”
Serian blinked.
“Because of us?”
The old man sighed.
“Word is spreading that savages have been attacking villages from the north lately. The Government Office issued an alert—report any northerners on sight.”
Airak drew closer.
“The Government Office?”
“It’s a branch of the central authority in the Central Plains.”
The old man explained.
“A subordinate agency under the Emperor’s rule. And….”
He trailed off.
“The Murim Alliance patrols also circulate through here. Those folk are more frightening than the government.
“The Murim Alliance.”
The clan leader repeated the name.
It was not a name he heard for the first time. He’d heard it at the Okmon Gwan, at a tavern. The heart of the Central Plains martial world, they said.
“I’ve heard that if you go there, you can learn anything.”
The old man nodded.
“That’s right. The Murim Alliance is where information about the Central Plains martial world converges. But….”
His gaze swept across Airak’s clothing.
“If you go, you won’t be welcomed.”
“We know.”
The old man rose, trying to straighten his spine. Serian took his arm and helped him up.
“Thank you.”
The old man bowed his head.
“I’m sorry I can’t thank you properly for your help. Those people… they act that way out of fear. Please understand.”
“I do.”
Serian smiled bitterly.
“Go carefully.”
The old man departed, muttering to himself.
“Be careful. The Central Plains… will not be kind to you.”
His footsteps descended the hillside.

They ransacked the bandits’ lair.
Food and silver emerged. Two sacks of rice, a bundle of dried meat, thirty silver coins.
Airak handed them to Garkan.
“Take it. We’ll use it for traveling expenses.”
“Yes.”
Serian asked.
“Is it all right to take the bandits’ things?”
“The dead have no owner.”
He continued.
“We take what we need. That’s how you survive.”
The group left the lair.
Serian glanced back.
In the distance, figures ran toward the village. Four of them. The merchants who had fled earlier.
They were going to report what had happened.
“Chieftain.”
Taikan spoke quietly.
“Once they report, we’ll have pursuers on our trail.”
“I know.”
Airak did not slow his pace.
“Should we chase them down and kill them?”
“No.”
He continued.
“If we kill civilians, we become true savages. That’s not what I want.”
“But—”
“We’ll accept the consequences.”
The chieftain’s gaze turned southward.
“The rumors have already spread anyway. One more won’t make a difference.”
Serian moved to his side.
“Are you all right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You saved them… and yet they treated you that way.”
Airak let out a dry laugh.
“I’m used to it.”
He added.
“It doesn’t matter how the people of the Central Plains see us. I came here for vengeance. Not to be welcomed.”
Serian bit her lip.
That broad back seemed lonely to her. A man who had lost the woman he loved thirty years ago, now walking only for revenge. A solitary wolf who wanted no one’s embrace.
She wanted to be beside him. Even without his turning around.

The group entered a mountain path.
Behind them, smoke rose from the village. Soon word would be sent. The Government Office would move; the Murim Alliance patrols would come after them.
The seeds of future trouble had been sown.
Yet Airak did not stop.
The Buk Myeong Do sang low from its scabbard—a cry for blood, a signal that its thirst had not yet been slaked.
Southward.
Toward the one who killed Karani.
The wolf’s footsteps did not falter.
Serian glanced back once more. Below the ridge, she could still see the shadows of people fleeing. She clenched her teeth and fixed her gaze forward. Airak’s back was there.

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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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