North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 46

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

46. Ambush at the Narrow Gorge

Black light cleaved through the air.
Before Gwak Seong could even issue a command, two cavalry in the vanguard slipped from their mounts. The hand holding the spear was severed at the wrist, and blood erupted in a spray.
“What?!”
At Gwak Seong’s cry, the cavalry unit faltered.
Airak was already before his third opponent.
The throat.
The BukMyeongdo passed through like a whisper. The enemy tried to cry out, but blood burst forth before sound could follow.
“Kill them!”
Gwak Seong’s command fell.
Fifty cavalry surged forward as one.
To face a cavalry unit in open ground was madness. No matter how strong a warrior was, there was no way to block spears pouring down from all sides.
Airak retreated and shouted.
“To the Narrow Gorge!”
Taikan responded instantly.
He drew his bowstring and shot the lead cavalryman’s horse, bringing it down. Two cavalry behind him tangled with the fallen mount.
In that moment, the group moved.
Garkan sent Serian and Arko ahead and ran with them.
“Faster! If we’re late, this gets tedious!”
Harku guarded the rear, knocking aside pursuing spears with his Dual Swords. Spear shafts shattered and flew.
“Ah, this is fun! Come on, bring more!”

The Narrow Gorge.
It was a narrow canyon through which a dried riverbed ran.
Sheer rock walls rose on both sides, and the width was barely enough for two horses to stand abreast.
The group burst into the gorge.
Gwak Seong shouted.
“They’re fleeing! Chase them!”
The cavalry unit surged toward the gorge’s entrance. Horses filed into the narrow passage in single file.
That was the mistake.
The ambush was already complete.
Taikan leaped onto the rock above the right side of the gorge entrance. Three man-heights high. As he looked down, he could see the cavalry entering in column.
Cheonrian gleamed.
The first arrow pierced the lead rider’s throat. The horse, bereft of its master, stumbled.
Second, third, fourth.
Arrows fell without pause.
In the narrow gorge, the cavalry could not dodge left or right. The front ten riders tumbled from their mounts.
“Above! There’s a sniper above!”
Someone cried out, but it was already too late.
At the narrow throat of the gorge’s middle, the Ice Iron Chain burst like a serpent from a crevice in the rock.
Garkan’s chain wrapped around the forelegs of four horses simultaneously.
“Ugh!”
The riders shrieked and fell from their saddles. The horses behind them caught on the fallen mounts and collapsed in a cascading chain reaction. The narrow passage became a tangle of horses and men.
Garkan laughed coldly.
“Once cavalry are thrown from their mounts, they’re just meat.”
The Ice Iron Chain moved again. It wrapped around a fallen rider’s throat and twisted.
At that moment, black smoke billowed up from a gap in the ground.
Arko’s Poison Smoke.
“Cough—hack!”
The cavalry who inhaled the poison smoke coughed and rubbed their eyes. Tears streamed down and vision blurred. Even the horses panicked and reared.
Chaos.
The opening was not missed.
“Aaaahhh!”
Harku burst forth from deeper within the gorge. His Dual Swords whirled, painting the air with blood.
As a dismounted rider tried to rise, a blade cut across his shoulder. Another who raised his spear to block had the shaft severed clean through. Flesh scattered and screams erupted.
Harku’s mouth twisted into a grin.
“Yes, yes—this scent!”
The madness of a battle-drunk warrior, intoxicated by blood, painted the Narrow Gorge crimson.
Serian didn’t hesitate either. From behind a boulder, she flicked her fingers, and three Ice Needles shot through the air—throat, throat, eye.
Three men fell in unison.
Arko turned to Serian.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. And you?”
“The poison hasn’t fully worn off, but I can manage this much.”
A Poison Needle gleamed in Arko’s palm and buried itself in the back of a fleeing cavalryman.

In the heart of the Narrow Gorge.
Airak stood alone.
The rocky walls of the gorge held the iron stench of blood. The narrow pass trapped the smell, letting it settle and thicken. A fallen horse’s labored breathing stretched out, then ceased.
Taikan nocked another arrow on the bow from his perch atop a rock. His fingertips were tinged blue. The cold had transferred to the bowstring.
He picked his way through tangled corpses and downed mounts. The BukMyeongdo blazed with black light, crying out in hunger. It was the sound of a blade craving blood.
Gwak Seong leaped from his horse.
“How dare you!”
He ground his teeth.
Thirty riders or more had fallen. In the blink of an eye. The Cheolgidan under his command had been slaughtered like dogs.
He drew his spear—a Long Spear, one and a half lengths of cold steel, a killing tool.
For Gwak Seong, who had mastered the essence of Horseback Spearmanship, the spear was an extension of his body. Fighting in silence would have put him at a disadvantage, but cavalry combat was impossible in this narrow gorge anyway.
“I’ll take your head and present it to the Lord.”
Airak slowly raised his blade.
“You talk too much.”
The first exchange.
Gwak Seong attacked first.
The spear thrust forward—a straight strike at the center of the chest, sharp and precise. A killing blow born from cavalry warfare in the North, honed through countless encounters.
Airak twisted his body. The spearpoint grazed his collar.
He rode the spear shaft forward.
Gwak Seong’s eyes widened. A spear is useless at close range. Once the opponent is inside your guard, it’s over.
He tried to abandon the spear and draw the Short Sword from his waist.
Too late.
The BukMyeongdo swung horizontally.
A strangled cry tore from Gwak Seong’s throat.
He stumbled backward. A crimson line opened across his chest, blood welling up. Fortune spared him—the wound was not fatal. In that moment of impact, he’d managed to retreat just enough to survive.
But he’d lost the spear.
The second exchange.
Gwak Seong drew his Short Sword—a blade no longer than a foot.
A Spear Master without his spear. He couldn’t even manage half his former strength. And there was nowhere left to retreat to.
Gwak Seong crouched low and pressed forward, his Short Sword aimed at Airak’s throat.
Airak deflected it with the flat of his blade. Metal shrieked against metal, a sound that split the ears.
He drove his elbow upward in one fluid motion.
It connected square with Gwak Seong’s jaw.
A choked grunt escaped him.
He staggered backward, reeling.
Blood burst inside his mouth. The blow to his jaw had made him bite his own tongue. His vision swam.
The third exchange.
Airak stepped forward.
Gwak Seong raised his Short Sword to block.
The BukMyeongdo swept upward from below.
The Short Sword shattered, then the spear haft. Gwak Seong realized it too late—he had blundered. In his desperation to retrieve the spear he’d dropped in the first exchange, he’d reached out for it. Pure instinct. A Spear Master’s reflex.
Airak seized that opening.
Black light touched his throat.
The blade pressed against skin. A thin line of blood trickled down.
“It’s over.”
His voice was calm.
Three exchanges. From start to finish, less than ten seconds.

Gwak Seong dropped to his knees.
His breathing came ragged. The blade at his throat was cold. One more ounce of pressure and his head would roll.
Airak spoke.
“Masters from the Central Plains went to the Northern Sea. Do you know of them?”
Gwak Seong lifted his head. Blood mixed with saliva dripped from his lips.
“Went to the Northern Sea?”
A bitter laugh tore from his throat. He laughed even with the blade pressed against his neck.
“How many do you think travel north from the Central Plains each day? Merchants, martial artists, bandits, deserters—how am I supposed to keep track of them all?”
The blade pressed deeper. More blood seeped from the wound.
Gwak Seong clenched his teeth.
“Go ahead and kill me. I don’t know what I don’t know. I can’t invent what doesn’t exist.”
Airak’s eyes narrowed.
“You truly know nothing?”
“Masters? How would I know if beings like that move without a trace?”
Self-mockery flickered across Gwak Seong’s gaze.
“I’m just the leader of the Cheolgidan, come to avenge my brothers-in-arms from the Pyoguk. The real masters move without leaving a shadow. Ask this question a hundred times and you’ll get the same answer every time.”
Silence fell.
Wind swept through the Narrow Gorge—a wind that carried the scent of blood. The groans of the dead still seemed to echo in his ears.
Airak did not lower his blade.
Gwak Seong’s eyes met Airak’s.
Two gazes collided, neither flinching first. Even with the BukMyeongdo blade at his throat, the Spear Master did not bow his head.
Airak’s fingers shifted slightly on the sword’s hilt.
“Torture can make a man invent answers.”
Gwak Seong smiled through blood-stained lips.
“If I invent something, will you believe it? How would you tell truth from lies? I don’t know what I don’t know. If a martial artist fabricates words because his life depends on it, is he still a martial artist?”
He pressed his neck harder against the blade. More blood flowed.
“If you mean to kill me, do it quickly. I won’t live on my knees.”
Airak’s gaze shifted.
The Martial Spirit. The look of one who refuses to lie even in the shadow of death. It was a gaze Airak had rarely seen, even in the Northern Sea.
Garkan approached.
“Clan leader. We’ve dealt with the rest. Sixteen are dead, and the others fled when they saw this one captured. They haven’t gone far—they seem to be watching the situation.”
“Don’t pursue them.”
Airak looked down at Gwak Seong.
Gwak Seong still held his head high. Eyes that had already accepted death.
Airak withdrew his blade.
“I’m sparing you.”
Gwak Seong’s eyes wavered.
“Why?”
“You’re worthless.”
Airak turned away as he spoke.
“If you know nothing, then I’ll have to find someone who does.”
Gwak Seong clenched his teeth.
“Don’t mistake mercy for kindness. If we meet again, I will kill you.”
Airak did not stop.
“There won’t be a next time.”

After they left the Narrow Gorge.
Taikan checked their rear and reported.
“No pursuit. That Gwak Seong—the fact that he’s not attacking again tells me he knows his place.”
Airak nodded.
Serian asked carefully.
“Did he really know nothing?”
“The eyes of someone ignorant.”
Garkan interjected.
“Then was it all for nothing?”
“It was.”
Airak’s voice was calm.
“We can’t extract information from someone of his caliber. If a master went to the Northern Sea, he moved without leaving a trace. There’s no way a Pyoguk leader would know anything.”
Harku hung his blood-stained Dual Swords across his shoulder and asked.
“Then what do we do? Assault the Murimdaeng and interrogate them?”
“That’s one option.”
Airak turned his gaze toward the south.
“But there’s something we must do first.”
Arko asked a question.
“What is it?”
“We find those who trade in information. There must be such people in the Central Plains as well.”
Serian nodded in agreement.
“Like Chilanssa in the Northern Sea?”
“Similar enough.”
The moment Airak moved to step forward.
Taikan suddenly raised a warning.
“Dust is rising from behind us.”
Everyone turned to look back.
Beyond the horizon, a cloud of dust billowed upward.
The earth began to tremble. The thunder of hoofbeats rolled across the wasteland. A wave of cavalry that filled the entire horizon.
Arko narrowed her eyes.
“Majeon. That banner…”
A black eagle banner fluttered in the wind.
Stray dogs of the wasteland. They had finally caught up.
Airak’s eyes grew sharp.
“More than a thousand strong.”
Garkan clenched his teeth.
“Relentless bastards. Pursuing us all the way to the Central Plains.”
Serian asked urgently.
“What do we do?”
Airak looked toward the north.
The vanguard of Majeon was sweeping across the horizon toward them.
An obsession that had chased them all the way to the Central Plains. Stray dogs hired by Mukara.
The sound of their hoofbeats seemed to tear the Wasteland apart. Even the wind split and scattered into fragments.
Serian’s silver hair streamed sideways in the gale.
Harku, usually silent, had his lips twitch upward once, then fall. Garkan’s shoulders had grown rigid and taut.
To anyone watching, it was clear they would have to fight.
Arko silently counted the Poison Needles in her pouch. Taikan glanced back once, then turned away without a word.
Airak ignored them and turned toward the opposite direction.
South.
The direction where Murimdaeng lay.
“We go.”
Airak began to move.
“We find the information broker first. Majeon comes after.”
Harku followed and asked.
“Are we running?”
Airak kept walking and answered without stopping.
“We’re setting priorities.”
The group followed behind him.
Behind them, the roar of Majeon echoed long and deep.
That cry split upon the desert wind and scattered into countless fragments.

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