North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 75

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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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75. Toward Fire Mountain

The morning of the second day.
Ha-rku rose early and made his way to the stable.
The cloth wound around his ribs trailed slightly with each step.
Yesterday’s wound was no trivial thing. Yet Serian had applied the Mabi-san herself last night, so the pain had faded to a dull ache.
Her hands were cool and steady. When she tied the bandage, she cinched each knot tight on the first attempt, leaving no room for loosening.
That was why he could walk to the stable this morning. Without her care, he’d have been bedridden for two or three days.
Garkan followed him to the stable entrance and paused there.
“How’s the rib?”
“I can manage, easily enough.”
“Your wife has capable hands.”
“She does. The knots she tied yesterday are holding perfectly.”
Garkan smiled lightly, then turned back toward the inn.
Ha-rku was alone.
The horses remained tethered as before.
The innkeeper and stableman had both fled, leaving no one to feed the animals.
“Well, there’s plenty of hay lying about, masterless and ready. Eat your fill.”
He grabbed a bundle and held it before a horse’s muzzle.
The horse’s nostrils flared, drawing in the grassy scent that now drifted through the stable. He took up another bundle and offered it to the next horse.
One by one, he fed hay to all five animals.
The soft sound of horses grinding grass gradually filled the stable.
His ribs throbbed, but he grinned despite it, a short, quiet laugh.
Silently, he spoke to himself.
‘It’s easier with her here.’
Sunlight streamed through a crack in the stable door, falling across the hay-scented air.

The night before.
The lamplight in the inn hung low.
Supper was winding down, and the other attendants had risen to clear the dishes.
Garkan stepped toward the kitchen while Arko, stationed at the entrance, fixed his gaze on the darkness beyond, his eyes keen.
Lamplight fell evenly across the table.
Cheok Mu-yeong and Cheok Ha-rin had excused themselves to rest—a reasonable enough choice, given what those who’d been struck by the Mabi-san the previous day might need.
The lamp’s glow settled evenly on the faces of the four who remained at the table.
Then Serian spoke of Bing Gong-ju’s death.
“Two months ago, at the Bing Gong in the North Sea, the lady was murdered by ruffians from the Central Plains.”
She had read Aelak’s intent to probe deeper into this young brother and sister. Seeing that intent in his eyes, she had spoken.
Serian’s pale gray eyes blinked slowly, then she continued.
How Bing Gong-ju had died two months prior. Eight assailants. But she did not mention what martial arts they had wielded.
She saw Cheok Mu-yeong’s sharp retort, saw Cheok Ha-rin’s slack-jawed astonishment.
A strange light flickered across the siblings’ eyes. They tried to conceal it, but not skillfully enough to escape the notice of a seasoned observer like Aelak.
Something was decidedly odd.
Serian’s gaze drifted slowly between the siblings’ fingertips and the corners of their mouths.
She also explained why the North Sea warrior had come to the Central Plains.
In a low, measured tone. Not accusatory, but flowing—blood calls for blood, after all. Vengeance was inevitable, was it not?
Cheok Ha-rin lifted her teacup slightly, then set it down.
Cheok Mu-yeong’s hands lay steady on the table. Yet Serian caught them flinch, just for an instant.
Even as she spoke thus, Aelak appeared indifferent, his eyes closed.
But Serian alone knew the truth.
All of Aelak’s attention was fixed on Cheok Ha-rin. Not on Cheok Mu-yeong. On Cheok Ha-rin. And with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
It was not something the siblings would have noticed, but Serian’s gaze—she was a woman of the Northern tribes—could not be fooled.
If Aelak were a man who fell for women easily, one might think he had succumbed to Cheok Ha-rin’s beauty.
Cheok Ha-rin was certainly lovely.
But Serian knew what others did not: in Aelak’s heart dwelt only Karani. All other women he regarded not as women, but as equals—warriors like any man.
Then what had drawn his gaze so intensely to Cheok Ha-rin?
She did not voice the question.
The lamplight’s shadow stretched long across the wall.
Cheok Mu-yeong and Cheok Ha-rin said nothing to each other in the end.

The day broke… and morning arrived.
Sunlight flooded into the inn.
It illuminated the dark dining table with brightness. Everything they had taken from the saddle the night before lay exposed, including Aelak’s wooden carving.
Aelak placed the wooden carving before them again in the daylight.
A wooden figure the length of an adult’s arm.
The silver hair carved into it gleamed sharply under the sun. Among the eight marks across the shoulders, the darkest one—scorched by friction heat—had hardened into black.
He said nothing. He wanted them to examine it in the light.
Both understood what he was asking.
Cheok Ha-rin’s gaze lingered over that scorch mark. Her fingertips unconsciously scraped across the wood grain of the table.
She spoke.
“I have no idea.”
Her voice trembled slightly. As she spoke, she became aware that she herself was shaking.
Had she possessed greater experience in the Kangho, she might have appeared composed.
Cheok Mu-yeong answered as well.
“I cannot say. Not from these marks alone. Honestly, I’m not even certain what weapon was used. I apologize. My martial skill is insufficient.”
His tone was calm.
Yet he knew that Aelak’s gray eyes had already detected his sister’s trembling.
Her voice had trembled even as he heard it.
He heard it. He sat there and heard his sister’s trembling. His shoulders seemed to stiffen for a moment.
‘Danger!’
Cheok Mu-yeong rose from his seat.
His right hand moved instinctively toward the hilt of his sword, then withdrew. He bowed respectfully with his hands clasped. His back was straight, his posture formal.
“We have an urgent matter at Okmun Gwan. We must depart soon. I’m afraid we cannot travel together.”
His tone was gentle and courteous, yet firm enough to brook no argument.
He said no more. There was no need. His refusal was already unmistakably clear.
Garkan raised one eyebrow. He opened his mouth.
“Yesterday you said you would guide us on our way, did you not?”
“My apologies.”
His answer was brief.
It was unmistakably a refusal—there was no ambiguity in it.
Garkan said nothing more. The light on the table grew dim.
“One cannot demand companionship.”
Aelak nodded as if he understood.
A refusal is a refusal. Speaking a few more words would not transform that refusal into companionship. So he nodded.
“Travel safely on your way.”
Serian offered her parting respects with courtesy.
“Thank you, madam. Peace be with you as well.”
Cheok Mu-yeong bowed respectfully with his hands clasped.
He had used the title “madam” when addressing Serian—treating her as Aelak’s wife.
A bright smile bloomed on Serian’s face.

Cheok Mu-yeong’s hand rested briefly on his sword hilt.
He gripped his sister’s shoulder. ‘We part from them.’ That was all it meant.
Cheok Ha-rin rose to follow him.
Within her chest, trembling rose like a thread. A childhood meadow… her father’s blade tip passed through grass leaves. The tips of the leaves hardened black. A thin wisp of smoke rose from the cut.
That scene now overlapped with the scorch mark on the wooden figure.
If so, then her father was Bing Gong-ju’s murderer.
‘No! That cannot be!’
Strong denial surged up within her. And suddenly, fear shot through her like fire.
If her father were these people’s enemy… they would die. Her father was heaven itself. His blade was too strong. No human sword could cut heaven. No—heaven could never cut Bing Gong-ju.
Her shoulders grew heavy.
Her fingertips turned cold.
A second denial washed over her mind.
‘Right. That cannot be.’
A second denial. Firmer than the first.
She spoke to herself this way within.
Cheok Mu-yeong gripped her shoulder again.
She flinched and looked at her brother.
His face was set firm. That hardness steadied her trembling.
She closed her mouth.
“Let’s go.”
Her brother spoke tersely. Not his usual warm tone. A clipped command. The unyielding voice of one who would brook no refusal.
“…Yes, brother.”
Her answer came thin and small. The corner of her mouth quivered, then fell still.

Cheok Mu-yeong and his party departed.
Before the inn, several horses and a carriage kicked up clouds of dust.
The dust settled… and the inn’s forecourt lay empty.
Sunlight descended onto the hoof prints where the dust had risen.
Aelak watched the departing figures.
Serian approached his side. Her footsteps were light.
She stood quietly beside him for a moment.
She looked at Aelak’s profile. His gray eyes followed the backs of the two receding figures. He parted his lips.
“I didn’t mention the Seol-ryeon-gwa on purpose.”
“……”
“That woman seems to have suffered from illness for a long time. I can still feel the taint of sickness on her. Did she take the Seol-ryeon-gwa? I don’t know yet. But the possibility exists.”
She let her words trail away.
“I didn’t notice at first… but standing near her, I picked up the scent of cold energy. From that woman.”
“So you didn’t ask her name?”
“They seemed like they’d be on guard. The man already looked wary. Whether they’re cautious because we’re northern barbarians, or because of something else, I couldn’t tell.”
Serian lifted her pale gray eyes to look at him.
“It felt like he knew.”
Aelak touched the sword mark on the wooden carving.
“I had that feeling too. But we’ve been so fixated on our enemy… perhaps that obsession made us see only what we wanted to see. Besides, we had no clear path forward until now anyway.”
Her tone was light. She caressed the teacup she held.
She asked him.
“You sensed the cold energy, didn’t you?”
The answer did not come at once. As always, Aelak’s responses had to be divined from silence.
Sunlight fell slowly across the dusty ground before the inn.
“……”
True to form, Aelak did not answer. His silence was answer enough.
“I can’t say with certainty that the woman took the Seol-ryeon-gwa… there are many spirit medicines that mask cold energy to this degree. Seol-ryeon-gwa, Han-cheon-hwa, Bing-hon-cho, Dong-hyang-cho…”
The names of spirit herbs spilled from her lips.
A catalogue of cold-natured spirit herbs that grow in the North Sea. One cannot attribute every person who radiates cold energy or smells of herbal medicine to the Seol-ryeon-gwa alone.
“That’s why.”
Aelak’s lips opened.
“I didn’t speak of it either. Uncertain. But… Karani’s scent lingers.”
Serian looked at his profile for a moment.
Aelak slowly traced the faint scar on the back of his hand with a finger.
Then… he opened his mouth.
“Fire Mountain. We go there.”
His tone was clipped and weighty. A pronouncement. A decision.
Fire Mountain lay to the east. Not south toward the Central Plains.
Serian stood beside him a moment longer.
She said nothing. Sunlight fell in long shadows before the inn. The shadows of the two figures stretched eastward.

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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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