North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 43

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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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43. The Hunted Wolf

Four days had passed.
Airak’s footsteps halted as he followed the path of Gwanddo.
The group trailing behind stopped as well. Wind swept across the earth, carrying the scent of dust.
Taikan sensed it first, his hawk-like eyes narrowing to slits.
“Thirty at our backs. Fifty ahead.”
His gaze swept both horizons, and his brow furrowed.
“We’re being pinched.”
The ground trembled, dust rising into the air.
From ahead came an orderly formation; from behind, a disorganized mob. The front was martial artists in proper garb; the rear were men carrying farm tools mixed with blades.
Garkan turned to look back.
“The Jagyeongdan. Looks like locals gathered together.”
“And ahead?”
“The Haseo Pyo-guk.”
Harku caressed the Ssangiado, chuckling softly.
“Eighty of them. Should keep us entertained.”
Airak did not respond.
The front formation halted. The man at the lead bellowed across the distance.
“Bandits and barbarian dogs! Seize the Northern Sea savages!”
A middle-aged man in full armor—clearly the commander of the pyo-guk.
“A bounty is on your heads! Dead or alive!”
A roar erupted from the Jagyeongdan behind them.
“Capture the barbarians!”
“They plundered our villages!”
Airak exhaled slowly.
“Here we go again.”
The commander descended from his horse and walked forward. A scroll was clutched in his hand.
“I shall read the charges!”
He unfurled the scroll.
“First, murder of merchants. Second, slaughter of innocent townsfolk. Third, collusion with bandits and plundering of villages.”
Serian’s eyes widened.
“That’s a lie!”
The commander sneered.
“Who would believe the word of a barbarian?”
“We killed the bandits and saved the merchants! In fact—”
“Silence.”
The commander raised his hand, gesturing behind him.
“The surviving merchants have testified directly. They say you Northern Sea savages conspired with the bandits to abduct them.”
Serian’s mouth fell open.
“That can’t be…”
Airak stepped in front of her.
“Enough.”
“But—”
“Words are wasted on those who will not listen.”
Serian bit her lip.
The commander drew his sword, shouting to those behind him.
“Form your ranks!”
Fifty of the Haseo Pyo-guk’s warriors drew their blades in unison. The motion was crisp, well-drilled.
“Charge!”
A war cry accompanied the rush of the formation.
Airak did not draw his sword.
His hands were empty.
The first blade came horizontally. It aimed for the throat.
His fingers flicked out, deflecting the blade with a sharp twang. Metal sang as the sword spun from its arc.
An opening had emerged.
He seized the man’s wrist and twisted. Bone cracked, and the sword clattered to the ground.
“Aaaagh!”
Even as the scream tore from his throat, Airak didn’t release him. He drove forward, slamming him into the second attacker trailing behind. Both men went down in a tangle.
The third came at him with a spear thrust. Airak swatted the point away with an open palm and stepped inside in one motion. His elbow found the man’s solar plexus before he could react.
Thud.
The man gasped, lost his grip on the spear, and dropped to his knees, a strangled whimper escaping him.
The fourth and fifth came at once from both sides, blades descending. Airak dropped low and swept his leg. One went down; the other’s sword whispered across his companion’s back instead.
“Ahh!”
Blood sprayed. In the moment the man froze, staring at what he’d done, Airak’s hand edge came down on his neck.
Crack. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
From behind, Garkan’s Bingcheolswae lashed out. The chain serpentined across the ground and coiled around five ankles at once.
“What—!”
Garkan yanked. All five toppled in unison.
Harku charged in as well. His Ssangiado spun, severing three spear shafts simultaneously. Before the men could even register what had happened, the blade wheeled again, carving crimson lines across their forearms.
He wasn’t killing them. Breaking their will to fight was enough.
Taikan drew his bowstring but didn’t loose.
The arrowhead was aimed at the commander’s brow.
“One shot. That’s all it takes.”
The threat alone was sufficient.
The commander’s face went white.
When twenty men lay sprawled on the ground, a roar erupted from behind.
The Jagyeongdan came charging.
“Kill them!”
“Seize the barbarians!”
Men wielding farm tools—sickles, hoes, axes. Not soldiers. Farmers.
Arko stepped forward.
“I’ll hold them back.”
In that instant, Poison Smoke bloomed. Black haze hung like a curtain between Arko and the Jagyeongdan.
“What—!”
“I can’t see!”
Coughing erupted. The Jagyeongdan descended into chaos, eyes burning and throats scorched by the smoke. Not lethal, but enough to strip away any will to fight.
Then.
Whiss…!
A sound sliced through the air—sharp, cutting through space.
Taikan shouted, twisting his body.
“Arko, get clear!”
The warning came fast, but not fast enough.
A Poison Arrow buried itself in Arko’s shoulder, burrowing deep into flesh.
“Ghh!”
Arko staggered. The smoke scattered as his face became visible. Already his color was draining.
“The poison… it’s unfamiliar. Central Plains Poison.”
He gritted his teeth.
Airak approached.
“Can you counter it?”
Arko shook his head.
“I don’t know this poison. I need time… to identify its composition. I’ve never seen it before.”
“How much time?”
“If I can’t obtain an antidote within half a day….”
He didn’t finish. Serian caught him as his knees buckled.
Taikan’s eyes narrowed.
“There’s an archer. Behind the Jagyeongdan. Hidden.”
“How many?”
“One. A skilled fighter. Not one of the Jagyeongdan.”
Someone else was mixed among them. Someone who’d been aiming at them from the start.
Airak’s eyes changed.
They needed to end this quickly.
His hand reached behind his back and gripped the sword hilt.
Whisper…
Black light spilled from the scabbard, devouring the light around it.
One of the guards swallowed hard, his throat working visibly. Another tried to back away but stumbled over a corpse, staggering, nearly dropping his sword before catching it again.
The Beommyeongdo poured forth a darkness that swallowed even sunlight itself. The blade sang low, a hunger for blood that echoed through the empty air.
As killing intent rippled outward like waves, the color drained from the guards’ faces.
“Chieftain!”
Garkan cried out.
Drawing the Beommyeongdo meant he would show no more mercy.
Airak moved forward, each step measured and deliberate.
Yet the guards could not see him move. With each stride, another fell. With each slash, two bodies parted.
They could not even see the blade swing. Only a black gleam that passed, leaving a crimson line in its wake.
“A g-ghost…!”
The guards screamed.
“Run!”
Ten men fell in an instant. Of the eighty, thirty were subdued, and the rest scattered in panic.
The Jagyeongdan were already fleeing. They abandoned their farm tools and bolted toward the village, and the Haseo Pyo-guk guards scattered like leaves in the wind. The formation collapsed. Courage evaporated.

Only the commander remained.
He too meant to flee. But his legs had locked, refusing to obey.
Airak advanced.
“Stay back! Come closer and I’ll kill you!”
He raised his blade. His hands trembled violently.
Airak did not slow.
One step. Two steps.
The commander’s sword flashed outward—a desperate horizontal slash, a strike born of desperation.
Airak met it lightly with the Beommyeongdo. Clang! The blade flew from the commander’s grip. In that instant, an opening yawned.
Airak’s hand shot forward, seizing the commander’s throat.
“Choke!”
The commander’s feet left the ground, thrashing uselessly in the air.
“If you want the antidote…”
The commander’s laugh came out strangled, bitter.
“Beg… to the prince… on your knees…”
Airak’s fingers tightened.
“Gaaaah!”
His windpipe closed. His eyes bulged as if they might burst from their sockets.
“Where is the prince?”
The commander could not answer—not because he lacked breath, but because he had no will to speak.
Airak eased his grip slightly.
“Talk, and I’ll let you live.”
“…Thirty leagues… north of Heoseohyeon…”
“The prince’s name?”
“Mak Iseong… Iron Wrist Mak Iseong…”
Airak released him, and the commander crashed to the ground, coughing violently.
“K-kough…!”
“The antidote.”
“Only… the prince has it…”
“I see.”
He turned to leave.
“Are you… letting me live?”
The commander asked weakly, dazed.
Airak answered without stopping.
“You live if you’re useful. You die if you’re not. This time, you were simply lucky.”
The commander’s face went pale, and he lowered his head in shame.
Airak returned to his companions.
Arko’s condition had worsened. His face had taken on a sickly yellow pallor, and beads of sweat gathered on his brow.
“The poison is spreading,” Serian said urgently, gripping Arko’s arm.
“Your hands—they’re shaking.”
Arko managed a weak smile.
“It’s fine… for now…”
Airak examined his shoulder, studying the wound. If they pulled the arrow free, the poison would spread faster. It had to stay, and he had to move.
“Thirty leagues north of Heoseohyeon. The antidote is there.”
“The Haseo Pyo-guk stronghold,” Serian murmured.

Garkan winced as he spoke.
“We’re heading into enemy territory?”
“Do we have another choice?”
Airak sheathed the Beommyeongdo and turned.
“Half a day. We don’t have time.”
The group moved out.
They passed among the fallen guards and left Gwanddo behind.
Taikan watched their rear.
“The one who fired the Poison Arrow has vanished.”
“Someone hiding within the Jagyeongdan ranks?”
“Yes… They deliberately targeted Arko.”
Serian tilted her head, asking.
“Why Arko specifically?”
Taikan answered.
“Because he’s the only one who can treat it. Among us, only Arko knows how to work with poison.”
Airak’s eyes narrowed and his pace slowed.
Someone was watching them. Someone who knew their route, who had grasped their weakness. It wasn’t the Jagyeongdan or the Haseo Pyo-guk.
“This is no coincidence.”
“Chief?”
“Someone is following us. The same one who fed information to the bandits.”
Harku touched the Ssangiado at his side.
“They’ll show their face eventually. We can kill them then.”
“The problem is they always make the first move.”
Airak quickened his pace.
“We move faster. Arko, can you hold on?”
“Yes… half a day should…”
“Good.”
The road grew treacherous as they left Gwanddo and entered the mountain paths. Their speed suffered, but it offered better cover from their pursuer.
Serian supported Arko as she asked.
“You said it was Central Plains Poison?”
“Yes… I’ve never seen this composition before. It’s different from Northern Sea poison… an entirely different lineage.”
“There is an antidote though, isn’t there?”
Arko nodded faintly, his smile thin.
“There must be… if someone made it, there must be an antidote too…”
“And you’re certain it’s at the Haseo Pyo-guk?”
“No.”
He paused briefly before continuing.
“But there’s nowhere else to go… so it has to be there.”
Serian bit her lip, watching Airak’s back as he pressed ahead.
Betrayed by the merchants they’d rescued, slandered with false accusations, and now her companion facing death. In only days in the Central Plains, everything had turned hostile.
The Central Plains was cold. Colder than the Northern Sea’s blizzards.
Airak led the way up the mountain path.
Behind them, the sun hung low on the horizon, burning red. They had to reach the Haseo Pyo-guk within half a day.
The Beommyeongdo hummed softly in its sheath, signaling its thirst remained unquenched.
A wolf was being hunted.
But the people of the Central Plains did not yet know that a hunted wolf is the most dangerous thing of all.
Arko’s breathing steadied slightly as the antidote began to circulate through his meridians.
Serian held his wrist a moment longer.
His pulse found its natural rhythm once more.

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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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