North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 78

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

78. South

Whoosh!
Garkan’s Bing Cheol Swae lashed out like a serpent, coiling around Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s neck.
The midday sun, just past noon, was trapped behind the sheer cliffs of the Narrow Gorge, casting them in severe shadow.
Inside the cramped gorge, there was nowhere to escape.
Garkan’s wrist twisted sharply. The chain tightened in response, constricting further with each movement—like a serpent coiling around itself.
A cutting metallic sound rang out, and with it came a creeping chill that traveled along the chain.
“Ugh!”
Before awareness could even register, the cold seeped into his shoulder. At the same moment, the wound he’d received from Eun Seol’s blade split open, spewing blood.
Dark crimson blood stained his robes and dripped onto the earth in small drops.
“Aah!”
Hwa Saek Rang-gun, overcome by agony, sprang upward then crumpled to his knees.
He thrashed desperately to escape the chain. But the merciless iron showed no pity, squeezing his very soul.
His feet clawed at the soil. Still the chain remained unmoved.
Garkan’s expression was impassive.
The biting chill of the Bing Cheol Swae carved into flesh.
Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s shoulders convulsed violently. The sensation—cold enough to pierce bone marrow—was like deliberate torture.
His lips darkened.
In his eyes, clouded with terror, the whites began to show. And then… at last, the fear of death choked off his breath.

Aelak watched motionless as everything unfolded in the gorge.
Frost clung to every blade of grass beneath his feet. Though it was midday, the earth where he stood was as cold as dawn.
The aura he radiated filled the gorge thickly. Those gray, emotionless eyes fixed on Hwa Saek Rang-gun, capable of freezing even the air itself.
“Kill.”
The syllable was brief, yet it cut through the gorge’s atmosphere and reached to the depths of those who heard it. A timbre that made the listener feel as though their very bones had been cleaved.
The most absolute command.
Unlike the Central Plains, warriors of the North Sea rarely speak the command of “kill” more than a handful of times in a lifetime. It was the ultimate order—beyond total annihilation, to leave none alive, to slaughter without exception.
The command had fallen.
That a mob would gather to assault a woman was already a crime deserving death; to use the Mi Hون Yak without mercy showed utter depravity.
The Aelak Clan could not forgive such acts.
The corner of Garkan’s mouth twitched faintly. The expression was not pity but contempt.
The moment Aelak’s word fell, the slaughter began.
The Sapa warriors who had fought back never even managed to properly grip their weapons.
Harku’s Shuang Ya Do flashed, and two bandits sprayed blood as they fell. In quick succession came the twang of Taikan’s bowstring, piercing the brows of two more warriors.
Harku wiped the blood from his blade on his robe. Fresh blood dripped onto the old scars etched across his face.
Arko released the Dok Mu without hesitation.
Purple mist spread low along one wall of the gorge. The legs of the Sapa warriors who touched that haze began to crumble, slowly, from the ground up.
In less time than it took for a cup of tea to cool, all who had been in the gorge were cleanly disposed of.
Overwhelming slaughter.
Blood soaked the earth, and the soil darkened to a deep crimson as it hardened. A single raven perched on a dead branch high above the cliff, watching the scene unfold below.

Garkan dragged Hwa Saek Rang-gun like a sack of grain and hurled him into the center of the gorge.
Dust billowed up.
Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s cheek struck the soil, and a dry moan leaked from his lips.
Cheok Mu-yeong held his blade’s point to Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s throat. His gaze unwavering—a sign that murderous intent had taken root.
The tip of Cheok Mu-yeong’s sword remained poised directly above Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s carotid artery.
Cheok Ha-rin, standing nearby, still seemed caught in the throes of the Mi Hון Yak; her breathing came in harsh gasps. Yet the technique was already loosening. Color was returning to her face.
Cold sweat traced lines down her bloodless lips.
Aelak moved forward slowly.
Wherever his footsteps fell, a frost-laden chill rose, and the grass withered cold beneath him.
The edges of the blades hardened white.
Even where sunlight touched, it made no difference. Frost had settled there too.
“You and these men are of different substance. These men… who sent them?”
The low, heavy question pressed down upon the air of the gorge.
At those words, Cheok Mu-yeong brought the tip of his blade to Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s throat as if to pierce it.
Fine welts had risen across the skin of Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s neck.
Hwa Saek Rang-gun pressed his mouth shut, as if to conceal whoever stood behind this. The truth was—he wanted to speak, but there was nothing to tell.
Aelak turned his gaze to Garkan.
At that look, Garkan twisted the chain one notch tighter, without mercy.
“Uuaaagh!”
A sickening scream tore through the gorge.
Screech!
A grotesque sound—as though flesh were burning—split the air. Simultaneously, a stream of blood ran down from the corner of Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s mouth.
The blood dripped from his chin to the earth below.
The skin of his shoulder where the chain touched had turned black with necrosis.
At last, he opened his mouth.
“I-I don’t know. Anonymous letters… I only received anonymous correspondence… Cheok Un-hui has a grudge… I was told to lay hands on his daughter…”
Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s voice was hoarse. Terror gripped his tongue.
Aelak’s breath still issued in vapor—an incongruous sight in the middle of the Narrow Gorge under full daylight.
Aelak spoke without emotion.
“Cheok Un-hui?”
“The foremost swordsman of the Central Plains. His cutting technique is the Jeol-hwi Il-geom. He’s master of Cheon Geom Mun as well… they say he’s the strongest of all generations. I never would have guessed he was that girl’s father.”
Serian spoke.
Her pale gray eyes brushed briefly across Cheok Ha-rin, who sat frozen in silence.
Her face bore no expression.
The Fuku Clan knew little of the Central Plains’ powers and figures, but to be ignorant of the foremost swordsman was unthinkable.
Serian had spoken only from what she herself knew.
“What did the letters contain?”
The question turned back toward Hwa Saek Rang-gun.
“E-everything. The movements of Cheok Ha-rin’s party, the location of this gorge—ideal for an ambush—even their actions. It was all written there.”
Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s gaze fell toward the blood he had spilled. He could not bring himself to face Cheok Mu-yeong.
Hearing those words, Cheok Mu-yeong’s breath caught sharply.
A heavy silence descended over the gorge. The fact that someone had been watching the inspector-general of the Murim Alliance and had passed his movements to Sapa left them all reeling.
Cold sweat seeped into Cheok Mu-yeong’s palms.
The leather of his sword hilt darkened as it absorbed that sweat.
An unseen enemy lurking in shadow.
Wind seeped thinly through one wall of the gorge, and even that breeze grew cold as it met Aelak’s chill, descending like ice.
Cheok Mu-yeong stiffened his shoulders against the rising rage that burned through him, yet kept his grip on his sword steady.
That fury was directed at the nameless enemy. It was clear that hatred toward his father burned beneath the surface—his fingers trembled faintly around the hilt.
Aelak’s final words were low and measured.
“This intelligence doesn’t come from the north. I thought perhaps it was a remnant after Mazhen’s annihilation, but it seems the scheme targets the woman alone—not us.”
It was not a question. It was certainty.
In that single short utterance, the air of the gorge grew heavier still.
Serian’s pale gray eyes swept across Cheok Ha-rin.
The young woman sat pallid, frozen, not yet fully grasping that there was another, true enemy behind all this.
Serian detected the faint chill that seeped from within Cheok Ha-rin’s collar—but it was not a remnant of Mi Hon Yak.
Serian repeated the word silently in her mind: “South.”
‘Is it truly so? Would someone really target his daughter out of resentment for Cheok Un-hui? Then what of the corpses strewn along our path? Those bodies… they were deliberately placed. For us to see.’
Serian’s eyes gleamed.
Aelak’s voice continued.
“Any clues to the sender’s identity?”
At Aelak’s final question, Hwa Saek Rang-gun shook his head.
“Only a single scroll, written in unremarkable script.”
All remaining strength had fled from Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s voice. His face was that of someone with nothing left to hide, nothing more to add.
“Of course.”
A true enemy, meticulously concealed.
Aelak’s gray eyes dimmed for a moment, then cleared again. The breath he expelled became short, white vapor that scattered into the air.
At a nod from Aelak, Garkan’s Bing Cheol Swae began to dance roughly.
Crack! Crunch!
The metal whipped through the void with a terrible tearing sound, and in one swift motion severed Hwa Saek Rang-gun’s neck. He was given no chance even to scream.
The body crumpled sideways onto the earth.
The shadow of a crow swept across the corpse. The soil bore its weight for a long time.
The gorge fell silent once more, dead and still, leaving only the scent of blood behind.
Cheok Mu-yeong slowly sheathed his sword.
The soft click of his blade settling into its leather scabbard echoed faintly.
He steadied his breath to match the sound.
With a bearing that was unmistakably different from yesterday’s vigilant protection of his sister in the inn—firm and reverent—he performed a deep fist salute.
“You have saved us twice over. In the inn, and here in this gorge. This debt of gratitude, we shall repay without fail. We will postpone our journey to Okmun Gwan and travel alongside you.”
His expression carried the weight of sincerity.
Yet Cheok Mu-yeong’s true thoughts ran otherwise. These people… guests from the North Sea. The ones who demolished Okmun Gwan. The ones who annihilated the bandit gang.
And their real target—their true objective—was his father.
He’d rushed toward Okmun Gwan precisely to keep his father hidden from them. But now, shadowing them closely seemed the wiser course.
Yes. There was no need to head to Okmun Gwan.
Traveling with them, learning what they truly sought—that was paramount. He had some inkling already, but he needed to know their purpose with precision.
Cold sweat traced down Cheok Mu-yeong’s spine.
Yet his face betrayed nothing, bearing the composure he had spent a lifetime cultivating.
Ah—and he needed to gauge their martial prowess as well.
If they clashed with him someday, this journey would offer the perfect opportunity to capture them.
Cheok Mu-yeong’s gaze lingered briefly on Aelak’s scarred hand. The depth of that scar was etched into his mind.
Hua Shan. They said they were heading to Hua Shan?
He needed to know what they intended there. If they meant to wage war against the Hua Shan school, he would have to stop them—
But to do that, he had to stay close to them.
They were formidable. The Murim would run red with blood.
This conclusion did not spring from fury clenched in a fist, but from a mind grown cold and settled.
“Our presence alongside you should prove useful.”
Cheok Ha-rin, too, grasped her dust-covered robe and bowed her head with careful restraint.
“Thank you.”
Her shoulders still trembled slightly. Yet the gesture of her bow was distinct and deep. And the faint chill emanating from her was unmistakable as well.
Garkan tapped the blood-stained Bing Cheol Swae and chuckled.
“We couldn’t have dragged you along by force, but if you’re willing to follow of your own accord, then welcome.”
Garkan’s shoulders lifted with an easy shrug.
The chain swayed gently with the motion of his shoulders.
Serian, meanwhile, gazed silently at the strange cold radiating from within Cheok Ha-rin’s collar, her lips sealed.
Her fingertips traced the knot of the medicine pouch with care. The knot held firm.

The party emerged from the Narrow Gorge.
As their view opened from the cramped gorge mouth into the flatland beyond, wind stirred their robes with a gentle touch.
The late afternoon sun cast its slanting rays across the parched grassland.
Small stones scattered throughout the grass stretched their shadows long beneath the light. Wind swept soft strokes across the grass blades.
Aelak’s gaze reached toward the distant northern sky.
As sunlight skimmed across the scars on his rough hand, his voice emerged—barely audible, meant only for Serian’s ear—low and muttered.
“South… Why? Why ahead of us…”

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