North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 48

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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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48. The Pursuit of Wild Dogs

Four days prior.
A small tavern on the fringes of Gansu.
A man in black raised his cup to his lips, his eyes scanning the room. A wanted poster pinned to the wall caught his attention.
Northern Sea Warrior. Five hundred taels.
He gestured to the proprietor.
“Any unusual rumors lately?”
“Unusual rumors, you say?”
A few coins clinked onto the table.
The proprietor’s eyes lit up.
“Now that you mention it… I heard that Ha Seo Pyo Guk was destroyed a few days back.”
“Ha Seo Pyo Guk?”
“Yes. By barbarians from the Northern Sea. The station keeper was beaten half to death, or so they say.”
The man rose from his seat.
He stepped outside and withdrew a Black Eagle Flag from his robes, the eagle emblem displayed upon it.
Two mounted warriors appeared over the rise.
“Found them. Ha Seo Pyo Guk. Two days east.”
The man in black mounted his horse and drew the reins taut.
The horse snorted, dust billowing up from its nostrils. The flag remained concealed, though folded neatly and fastened at his waist—the black eagle lying dormant in the folds of cloth.

Two days prior.
Near Ha Seo Pyo Guk.
Three Ma Jeon scouts surveyed the ruins of the station.
Blade marks scarred the walls. Dried blood stained the courtyard. Several wounded station keepers moved about, their injuries wrapped in bandages.
One scout approached a wounded keeper.
“What happened here?”
The keeper shook his head.
“I’d rather not say.”
A silver ingot was placed in the keeper’s palm.
The keeper’s lips parted.
“Men from the Northern Sea. Six of them. Monsters, all of them. We numbered over fifty, yet we couldn’t lay a hand on them.
“Which way did they go?”
“South. The Gam Liang Iron Cavalry Unit went after them, but…”
“The Iron Cavalry Unit?”
“Gwak Seong led fifty mounted warriors to pursue them for vengeance, but they were annihilated in the Gorge.”
The three scouts exchanged glances.
South.
The Gorge.

One day prior.
A roadside inn near the Gorge.
A Ma Jeon scout questioned the innkeeper.
“I heard there was a battle near here a few days ago.”
“Ah, that. Terrible it was. The Iron Cavalry Unit—all fifty of them—wiped out.”
“Where?”
“In that gorge over there. They say bodies were piled like mountains.”
“Any survivors?”
“The unit leader survived, they say. He was taken prisoner but then released.”
The scout stood abruptly.
“Which way did those Northern Sea men go?”
“South. Still heading south, from what I’ve heard.”
The scout left the inn and mounted his horse.
“I must report to the Lord immediately.”

Half a day prior.
The main encampment of Ma Jeon.
A thousand mounted warriors gathered around bonfires. The Black Eagle Flag fluttered in the wind.
At the center, the largest fire burned fierce and bright.
A man sat before it.
The demon of the Wasteland. The Ma Jeon Lord.
A massive frame. Three scars ran down his face. Hanging from the saddle’s edge were ears—trophies of the strong. Twenty-three of them.
A scout knelt before him.
“Lord. We’ve found them.”
“Where?”
“Half a day’s ride south from here.”
The Lord rose from his seat.
He drew his Twin Swords.
“At last.”
The corners of his mouth lifted.
“Kutor. I will repay your blood feud.”
He thrust the blade toward the empty sky.
“We ride! All of you!”
A thousand voices tore through the night.
Sparks leaped up, grazing the Lord’s cheek.
He didn’t blink. The three scars flashed in the firelight, then vanished into shadow.
The ears hanging from the saddle knocked against one another with a dry rattle—the sound of waiting for the twenty-third to become twenty-four.

Now.
The horizon turned black.
Not dust. Cavalry.
More than a thousand hooves thundered against the earth. The ground trembled. Dust swallowed the sky. Dozens of Black Eagle Flags streamed overhead.
Ma Jeon.
The Wild Dogs of the Northern Sea… had finally caught up.
Airak’s party rode through the Wasteland.
Taikan glanced back and reported.
“More than a thousand. The distance is closing.”
Garkan clenched his teeth.
“How did they find us?”
“Word.”
Airak answered curtly.
“We leave traces wherever we pass.”
Serian asked, her voice tight with worry.
“What do we do? We can’t fight all of them.”
Harku glanced back with a low chuckle.
“What? This could be fun. A thousand, you say? Let’s have ourselves a real fight for once.”
“We can’t meet them head-on.”
Airak surveyed the terrain around them.
Not far ahead, the Rocky Terrain rose into view—a treacherous landscape of large and small stones twisted together.
“We go there.”
He changed direction.
“We hold until nightfall. Then we slip away in a night raid.”

The Rocky Terrain.
The party leaped into a narrow crevasse. They dismounted and hid themselves among the stones.
Ma Jeon followed.
But they were forced to stop at the entrance to the rocky gap—a space too narrow for horses to enter.
The Lord stepped forward.
“Dismount!”
The cavalry descended from their mounts. But only one or two men at a time could squeeze through the narrow passage between the rocks.
The first soldier entered the crevasse. In that instant, an arrow flew and buried itself in his throat. He fell without a sound.
A second soldier followed.
This time a Poison Needle struck his face. The soldier fell without even a cry.
A third. A fourth.
Each one who entered fell in turn.
The Lord gnashed his teeth.
“Surround them! Keep watch through the night! Not a single rat escapes!”
The Ma Jeon soldiers encircled the Rocky Terrain. They built watchfires and began rotating their guard.

Inside the stone crevice.
Airak looked up at the sky.
The sun was sinking. The western horizon burned crimson.
Garkan spoke.
“When do we move?”
“When the moon hides in the clouds.”
Taikan asked while checking his bow.
“Fifteen arrows remain. What’s our target?”
“The lord’s words—unseat the lord. Chaos follows. In that moment, we strike.”
Airak answered tersely.
Harku slung the Twin Curved Swords over his shoulder and grinned.
“We’re killing the lord?”
“No. We only need time.”
“Ah, where’s the fun in that.”
Arko drew a small pouch from his sleeve.
“Use the Poison Smoke?”
“Save it. Just create chaos.”
Serian asked hesitantly.
“What… what should I do?”
“Extinguish the torches with Ice Needles. Darkness is our ally.”
Serian nodded.

The group crouched hidden in the stone crevice and waited.
The sun set completely.
The moon rose… and clouds drifted across it.
Airak watched the sky.
A wisp of cloud moved toward the moon.
They waited.
The cloud swallowed the moon. Darkness fell.
“Go.”

The Ma Jeon encampment.
Watchfires burned in scattered clusters. Soldiers rotated through sleep.
The lord sat before the largest fire.
He did not sleep. He watched the Rocky Terrain while sharpening his Twin Swords.
Kutor.
A brother in arms for thirty years. They had fought hundreds of battles together. The man who severed his neck—he was in there.
“I will kill him. Absolutely.”
He murmured the words low.
Then.
Whissh.
The sound of wind being cut through reached him.
The lord’s body twisted reflexively. An arrow whipped past his side.
No—it was not meant for him. The horse. It was the horse.
The lord’s mount shrieked and fell. An arrow jutted from its neck. Blood erupted like a fountain.
Simultaneously, torches went out.
One, two, three.
Ice Needles flew and shattered the torches. Darkness spread.
“Ambush!”
The lord sprang to his feet.
In the next instant, a black shadow burst from the darkness.
Airak.
The Buk Myeong Do aimed for the lord’s neck.
The lord raised his Twin Swords in defense.
Crash.
Sparks erupted. The Twin Swords and Buk Myeong Do collided with a thunderous clang.
The first exchange.
Airak’s blade slid sideways, angling for the Lord’s ribs.
The Lord twisted clear and his left sword struck back—a brutal horizontal slash.
Airak retreated a step.
Second exchange.
The Lord pressed forward. Twin Swords poured out in succession—left, right, left. Rough. Fast. A fight won through raw force.
Airak slipped sideways, maintaining distance.
The Lord was strong. Stronger than Kutor. His Twin Swords style was crude but flawless—no openings.
Third exchange.
The Lord’s right blade thrust upward from below.
Airak sidestepped. The blade’s edge grazed his collar, but the Lord pressed on into his guard.
Fourth exchange.
Buk Myeong Do sought the shoulder.
The Lord tried to block with his left sword, but was half a beat too slow. The blade scored across his shoulder.
Blood sprayed.
“Gahhh!”
The Lord stumbled back.
Blood wept between his clenched fingers as he clutched the wound. Deep. Bone gleamed white beneath. The bleeding wouldn’t stop—it came in a steady stream.
Fifth exchange.
Airak moved in to finish it.
A spear shot across from the side.
Ma Jeon soldiers were charging. One, two, ten. Men rushing to defend their Lord.
Airak fell back.
The objective was met. Time had been bought. The Lord was wounded. No need to press further.
“Chase them down!”
The Lord cried out, blood spilling from his lips.
“Don’t let them escape!”
The Lord clamped his hand over his shoulder.
Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the dark ground. The snow at his feet melted red, then froze again.
He tried to rise but fell to his knees a second time.

Screams tore through the darkness.
“Aaahhh!”
Harku’s Twin Curved Swords were dancing. Three soldiers fell, spraying blood.
“Hack—!”
Garkan’s Ice Iron Chain coiled around a soldier’s throat and twisted.
“Cough… Hack—!”
Smoke rose somewhere. Arko’s Poison Smoke. Soldiers collapsed, coughing.
Chaos spread.
The campfire died and darkness fell. Soldiers stumbled blind in every direction.
“My Lord! My Lord, where are you!”
No one answered.
The Lord knelt on the ground, hand locked on his shoulder. The bleeding would not stop.
“Damn it…”
He ground his teeth.
When he looked up,
six shadows were already dissolving into darkness.

Dawn.
The Ma Jeon camp was bedlam.
More than twenty corpses lay scattered. Twice that many wounded.
The Lord rose with bandages wound around his shoulder. Blood had soaked through, but he paid it no mind. Vendetta burned away pain.
“We ride.”
A subordinate spoke cautiously.
“My Lord, your wound—”
“Silence.”
The Lord drew his Twin Swords.
“That dog will die by my hand. Blood for blood—for Kutor. I swear it on the name of Ma Jeon.”
He mounted. Blood seeped through the bandage at his shoulder.
“All units! Pursue! We hunt them to the end!”
A thousand horsemen stirred back to life.

Somewhere in the Wasteland.
Airak and his group were riding hard.
Behind them, dust rose again in a billowing cloud.
Serian glanced back over her shoulder. “They’re still chasing us. They won’t give up.”

“Of course not. It’s a blood feud.”
Garkan answered.
The people of the Northern Sea did not forget a vendetta. Even when strength waned, even when death seemed the only path ahead—especially a leader who could not avenge his subordinates would one day fall to a blade. His subordinates’ blade.
Harku spoke from beside them. “Will we keep running?”

“This isn’t running.”
Airak’s answer was clipped.
“Ma Jeon comes later. There’s something we must do first.”
“What is it?”
“Find the one who killed Karani. That comes first.”
Airak’s eyes blazed. Cold as winter frost.
They all understood. An arrow had been loosed from deep within Airak’s heart, and it had lodged in the breast of an enemy whose face he did not know.
Like the blue and red threads that bind husband and wife—a long trajectory marked by that arrow now stretched between the vendetta and Airak.
All they could do was follow the arc.
Everything else fell away. Whether it was Ma Jeon or any other—if it stood in his path, it would be cut down.
The group rode south.
Toward the place where Karani’s murderer dwelt.
Behind them, the war cry of Ma Jeon echoed long and terrible. Ahead, only the distant horizon stretched, the color of earth.

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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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