North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 91

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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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91. Into the Tiger’s Jaws

Beneath the walls of the Jeongal Clan compound.
Four shadows dissolved into the dense darkness.
Four warriors of the North Sea. Blood-red hunters stood before an iron wall.
It was a race against time. Since yesterday, the clan’s defenses had been swelling into grotesque proportions. Inside the walls, they were layering formations upon formations.
Hesitate, and the walls would only grow higher.
Pinpointing the clan itself meant nothing. To seize the real target’s throat, they needed to confirm his footwork and martial skill with their own two eyes.

Aelak stood upon a low rise, staring at the pitch-black wall.
Darkness where even starlight couldn’t reach. Yet from the earth beneath, something oozed—an unsettling chill that burrowed into the bone.
The killing intent radiating from the formation the clan had coiled around itself.
Serian pressed close to Aelak’s side and whispered low.
“Going in directly to confirm his martial skill—that’s one approach.”
“We go in only after we’ve eliminated every shred of excuse.”
Aelak’s eyes burned with barely contained fire.
Part of him screamed to rush through that gate. But he forced that hunger down, kept it clamped tight.
“And once you’ve confirmed it—will you cut him down?”
“I’ll cut him down.”
The words came without the slightest hesitation.
Even if the target were an emperor, the blade would fall. Aelak would see to it.

Snap!
Garkan flicked his forefinger and middle finger in a sharp gesture.
‘We’re going in.’
A terse, dry signal.
Garkan seized the Bing Chul Swae and vaulted the wall first. Harkoo followed, then Taikan, then Arko—each landing in silence on the far side.
The moment their feet touched the earth within, the sleeping monstrosity opened its eyes.
It began in the soles of their feet.
The instant they pressed into the soil, the earth’s heat plummeted. A bone-crawling chill crept up their shins, and in rapid succession, the temperatures at other nexus points began to cascade downward.
In the absolute darkness, seven nexus points erupted with explosive pressure, crushing the air itself.
“Seven nexus points shifting like that—!”
Taikan’s growl came low and dangerous.
His eyes tracked the seven points, but they shifted position ceaselessly, as if alive.
“The pattern—”
“Big Dipper formation, but it’s impossible to pin down. Can’t tell which is the head and which is the tail.”
Standing motionless, the four were nonetheless being drawn deeper into the beast’s throat.

Garkan wrapped the Bing Chul Swae around his wrist.
Pinky to thumb, always the same habit. The heavy chain bit into his skin with a cold, grinding sound.
“We’re going to have to smash this whole thing to pieces, aren’t we?”
“If it’s only at the level where we could break it, we’d be fortunate.”
Harkoo tapped the hilt of the Twin Halberd Swords with his forefinger.
His lips curved in a smile, but his eyes gleamed with a predator’s light.
“Breaking things apart is my specialty, but… I’ve got no idea where to even strike this.”
For the first time, uncertainty crept into the words of the battle-mad youngest.
The instinct of northern warriors moved them.
Back to back, they formed a tight circle. The same survival instinct that had kept them alive through dozens of battles rose unbidden to the surface.
Garkan took a step toward the heart of the formation.
Squelch—!
The earth beneath his foot rippled as if to swallow him whole.
When he lifted his foot, the rippling ceased. When he pressed down again, it resumed.
The formation was taking measure of its intruder’s weight.
‘This is it.’
Garkan grasped the truth in an instant.
This wasn’t a gate left open for passage. It was a tiger’s mouth gaped wide, ready to devour the blood and flesh of those foolish enough to enter.
The deeper they ventured, the more their retreat behind them narrowed—slowly at first, then absolutely. But to assess the target’s martial prowess, they had no choice but to crawl willingly down that throat.
“Don’t stop. Maintain formation and break through.”

One step.
Another passage sealed shut.
Taikan pointed to a fissure between seven nexus points.
“There! It’s open—!”
Before he could finish, the group hurled themselves forward. But the killing intent from an adjacent nexus point surged instantly, swallowing the gap.
In its place, a new opening appeared where they’d stood moments before.
“It’s closed. The ground we abandoned—that’s where the opening appeared.”
“Then rush into that empty space!”
“The moment our feet leave, it fills again! This is insane—the formation’s circuitry… it’s like it’s thinking and moving on its own.”
The Thousand-Mile Vision that pierced through enemies dozens of leagues away lost its target for the first time.
“The nexus points aren’t fixed. The instant we move, that position becomes past tense.”
“Ah, stop overthinking it—just push!”
Harkoo barked the order.
“Push and you hit the Death Wall! Chasing empty spaces is just phantom movements!”
Garkan clenched his teeth.
To calculate was too slow; to charge blindly was suicide. They were trapped in a perfect paradox.
All those warriors had vanished. What remained visible was only the sinister killing intent, and blades sharp as frost.

Arko’s nostrils flared. His extraordinary sense of smell—one that could distinguish every poison and antidote—was being numbed by the overwhelming killing intent.
“I can’t catch the scent at all. If it were a Poison Formation, I’d find the source. But this is pure concentrated force—there’s nothing to grip.”
The violent current swept them inexorably toward the clan’s depths. All six felt their retreat completely severed.

The formation changed with overwhelming speed.
The moment one nexus point opened, an adjacent one sealed it. Seven nexus points interlocked like cog-wheels.
The sealing order shifted each time. No nexus point filled the gap twice in succession. It wasn’t random—it was meticulously orchestrated.
‘Given time, I could work backward. Erase one point at a time.’
A thought they all shared. But they lacked that time. By the moment the calculation finished, that ground had already become death.
As the seven nexus points rotated, strangling their breath, the group found themselves completely cornered.

“The way through is meant to be torn open.”
Garkan stepped forward, patience exhausted.
A wall sealed tight—you break it with strength. That was the warrior’s way. He spun the Bing Chul Swae overhead in a terrifying arc, raking forward with brutal force even as his left foot crashed down hard.
Clang!
A chilling metallic shriek erupted beneath his sole.
A vicious hidden spike buried in the formation tore deep into his left calf.
“Ugh…”
Garkan swallowed his agony and buckled one knee. From the torn calf, dark crimson blood gushed forth.
The moment blood soaked into earth, the formation’s force drank it in and surged red. The formation was running wild on blood as offering.
Garkan gritted his teeth and tried to steady the Bing Chul Swae, but his injured leg gave way beneath him.
“…It’s nothing. The leg just got scraped a little.”
“Your leg’s shattered, you fool.”
Harkoo steadied Garkan’s shoulder with a firm grip, his tone dripping with mockery.
“Back off. If you dawdle, you’ll get hurt too.”
“If you bleed out, the formation just gets fatter while we stand around. Stay still.”
His words were sharp, but the knuckles gripping the Twin Halberd Swords were white with tension.
Watching his brother bleed.
For the war-lover, there was no wound more excruciating than that.

The instant Garkan collapsed, blue-edged wind screamed from all sides.
The killing intent from all seven nexus points contracted in unison, and invisible blades tore savagely across the group’s skin.
“Damn!”
Harkoo spun the Twin Halberd Swords in a frenzy, deflecting the blade-wind.
Shwoosh!
For each line he parried, two more carved through their guard. It never ended, no matter how many he cut down.
“This is just pouring water into a bottomless cup!”
Even the youngest’s usual sharp tongue had gone silent.
Proof that he truly felt the grip of death.
“Don’t attack. Focus on defense only.”
Garkan’s voice was rough and steady.
“If I only defend, they’ll riddle me with holes!”
“Every technique you throw at it teaches the Formation your patterns. Once your martial foundation is exposed, no amount of skill will crack this trap.”
Harkoo bit his lip until blood came, forcing the Twin Halberd Swords to slow their rotation.

Then, from the darkness of the Formation, a figure emerged like a ghost.
The Elder of Jeongal Clan. The hem of his flowing robe drifted effortlessly above the killing intent, gliding past even the vicious gales of blade-wind. He walked untouched.
It was the gait of one who commanded the Formation’s currents absolutely.
The Elder twisted his lips into a sneer.
“I didn’t expect the North Sea’s whelps to poke their noses in this far.”
He flicked his skeletal hand through the air.
Seven Nexus Points danced at the gesture alone.
“You took your time getting here. I was worried you wouldn’t fall for the bait. But for the amount of effort you’ve spent, your martial skill is disappointingly dull.”
A trap designed from the start to lock the party within its jaws.
Garkan’s eyes snapped toward the Elder.
“You cast the bait?”
“Bait?”
“The footwork.”
“Stop spouting nonsense. At the end of this passage is a Formation from hell itself, and all I need do is sit comfortable inside it while it works. Think you can endure that?”
‘This isn’t him.’
This one knows nothing. He is merely an Elder operating the Formation.
“Hiding like a rat.”
“Why would I need my blade for prey I’ve already caged?”
A filthy grin spread across the Elder’s face.
The vile satisfaction of a coward—safe behind his Formation, content to watch the intruders bleed out in agony.
The Elder shifted his ground with smug deliberation.
Each step a feint, each pivot a deception—appearing to advance while standing still, seeming to pause while slipping into blind spots. The Mystery Gate Hidden Footwork itself.
Arko’s eyes widened.
“That footwork. Brother. It belongs to the one whose prints led us here.”
At last they had found the footwork. This was the gait that had pursued them all this way. Yet he could not be named as one of the eight enemies who had torn Kalni apart.

Taikan at last found a Path of Life.
A narrow passage at their back—that infinitesimal gap where the blade-wind hesitated for a fraction before striking, a hairline fracture in the assault.
“Gather toward me.”
The moment Harkoo pulled Garkan close and the group pressed tight, Taikan’s arrow flew at invisible speed, piercing the void itself.
Crack—snap!
Space shrieked in a grotesque cry as it tore, and the narrow passage froze solid. The savage blade-wind shattered against the arrow’s forceful Qi, scattering into fragments.
A single line of light punched through what the Elder had believed to be an impenetrable Death Wall.
In that instant, the Elder’s sneer went rigid.
“Now. Get out.”
“Brother, come with us!”
Harkoo’s voice cracked with strain.
“Take the eldest out. Go. Now.”
Harkoo clenched his teeth and hefted Garkan onto his shoulder, blood-soaked and heavy.

Four pursuers bolted through the razor-thin passage like madness itself, their limbs driving them toward escape.
Even Harkoo, who would normally not stop talking, bore his brother’s weight in silence, his jaw clamped shut against all sound.
The moment the group cleared the wall, a terrible roar erupted behind them. The frozen passage shattered to pieces, and the blade-wind rushed back through its channels, restoring the Formation to its original state.
The first hunt had been a complete failure.

Safe ground, far from the Clan.
The party gasped for breath, chests heaving.
Serian knelt urgently to examine Garkan’s shin. The Bing Chul Swae had carved a vicious wound, deep to the bone.
“Recovery will take a full day. You’ll need to rest like the dead tonight.”
“It’s merely a surface wound.”
Garkan, face drained of all color, forced the lie.
“Before we can take that bastard’s head, we have to tear apart that wretched Formation first.”
Harkoo ground his teeth as he spoke.
Aelak said nothing. His thoughts remained unknowable—his gaze fixed only on Jeongal Clan, empty and cold.
Will I never see the true measure of my target’s martial prowess?
The enemy had already glimpsed the faces of those who hunted him. If he could not shatter the Formation, the noose around his enemy’s neck would slip from his grasp forever.
Crack!
Aelak’s eyes turned cold as ice.

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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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