The Legend of Red Cloud - Chapter 14

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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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Chapter 14. Sword Strike
First four, then eight, then sixteen, and finally thirty-two.
These four waves of attack grievously sapped the martial skill, inner force, and stamina of the master trapped in the center.
Combined with the subtle mechanics of the Wheel Formation Technique inherent to the formation itself, the relentless assaults that came in rapid succession gave those caught within not a single moment to rest.
Each strike the formation produced was formidable and swift.
The final blow that would sever the breath of a target thus drained of all reserves came fifth and last—a strike from Gwi-yeong Geom-hon.
The Great Heaven Severing Strike.
His finishing technique.
This blow, detonating every ounce of his inner force and innate qi in a single overwhelming cascade, was absolutely inescapable—even for a master at the Divine Realm.
Thus the 32-Formation of these Geom-hon’s disciples held a place of honor among the three great offensive formations of Gunma-rim, surpassing even the Blood Ghost Company.
Of course, with their surviving numbers too few, the formation would now halt at the third wave of sixteen, but that hardly mattered.
The 32-Formation had already taken the lives of Divine Realm masters even at that reduced scale.
Yet such a formidable absolute formation began to creak from the very start.
It began the moment the eight disciples occupying the second formation’s eight directions kicked off the earth, when a rainbow of blood sprayed outward into empty space.
East, west, south, north.
The Youmyeong, slicing through the chests of four disciples who had launched upward as the first wave occupying the cardinal points, pierced through the blood rainbow its wielder had created and unleashed eight threads of Sword Qi.
The disciples were all masters of the Peak Realm.
The senior disciples had reached the upper echelons of Peak, while Gwi-yeong Geom-hon himself had transcended even that into the Super-Peak Realm.
As such, they knew how to wield Sword Qi.
So the incoming Sword Qi should have been blockable with their own.
Or rather, it had to be.
Yet somehow, all eight disciples forming the second wave sprayed blood and collapsed simultaneously.
As a result, the third wave—sixteen disciples waiting their turn—found their approach obstructed.
The 32-Formation’s greatest weakness was that it required such tight clustering; each disciple had to advance and withdraw along predetermined paths through predetermined spaces.
That weakness revealed itself in this unforeseen moment.
Among the sixteen obstructed disciples, some failed to secure space and missed their opening to strike, while others barely carved through the congestion and rushed forward.
Startled by circumstances they hadn’t anticipated, they lost their unified coordination.
And through the fractured formation tore the cold gleam of Youmyeong.
Yet the direction was unexpected.
Rather than targeting the few disciples still suspended in the air from their desperate squeeze through the gaps, the wielder of Youmyeong—a blade loved by this Ryu—turned its teeth toward the disciples who had hesitated, standing grounded on earth, having lost their moment.
That too defied common sense.
In ordinary circumstances, those hovering in empty space were more vulnerable to attack than those with feet planted firmly on solid ground.
Yet this attack that defied common sense struck true.
The disciples standing on earth had been bracing themselves not against direct assault, but to protect their airborne companions.
Common sense suggested the enemy’s strike would come against those suspended in mid-air, not against them.
Their faith in that ‘common sense’ divided the fates of all.
Crack!
Seven disciples sprayed blood and collapsed at once.
Packed into far too narrow a space, and with Youmyeong’s blade swung to its maximum extension along one side, the attack’s reach proved far wider than anticipated.
Having claimed seven disciples, Youmyeong pivoted with brutal speed toward the four surviving disciples on the ground, then tore through the empty space above them.
From the torn void came a rain of severed flesh and an enormous flood of blood.
The five disciples whose forms had risen into that void were nowhere to be seen.
Startled by such speed and decisiveness, a volley of Sword Qi erupted from Youmyeong toward the remaining disciples.
More than a dozen threads—far more—descended on the remaining four of the third wave before they could react.
Buried in that deluge, they never managed even a proper scream before collapsing into riddled corpses.
Through the blood mist billowing from them came Ryu, Youmyeong held before him.
Bang!
As Gwi-yeong Geom-hon barely blocked his blow, his vision caught the sight of the final six disciples he’d been protecting behind him, along with the five Blood Ghost Company fighters beside them, spraying blood as they fell.
Thud.
The dull sound of their collapse rang out like thunder in his ears.
So this was Ryu—a name spoken with reverence throughout the Blood Ghost Company—yet he’d never imagined abilities of this magnitude.
The Malyeong-jeon, the military command of Gunma-rim, and its subordinate organization Myeongma-so, which handled military operations for the Blood Ghost Company, had consistently assessed Ryu as somewhere between Peak and Super-Peak Realm.
But no one at that level could display such prowess.
Gwi-yeong Geom-hon himself stood at Super-Peak—he knew this better than anyone.
Which meant his opponent was at minimum at Divine Realm, clearly a full step beyond him.
There was no escaping someone of that caliber in a situation like this.
With resolve hardened, Gwi-yeong Geom-hon tore away his mask.
A sharp-featured face was revealed, bearing a cruel scar that cut diagonally across his left eye, projecting an aura of savage ferocity.
“Gwi-yeong Geom-hon.”
The identities of the disciples were classified.
He himself could reveal nothing of their identities, nor could anyone else in the Blood Ghost Company.
It was the Blood Ghost Company’s forbidden law.
He had broken that law only because he sensed his own death approaching.
But even such resolve seemed to stir nothing in his opponent.
Ryu merely lifted his blade slowly and gave it a single, contemptuous flick.
At that insult, Gwi-yeong Geom-hon—or rather, what his true name Gwak Mil had become—gritted his teeth and lunged forward, raising his sword in fury.
Clang!
The blade he’d unleashed with everything poured into the Dae-cheon-dan-gyeok, which he’d been saving for this final moment, seemed to flow across something and dissipate.
And then……
“What… is this?”
Even as the Dae-cheon-dan-gyeok dispersed, he found himself asking the name of the technique that had pierced his chest and passed clean through in that same instant.
Ryu’s answer was spare.
“Sword Strike.”
Nothing grand—just the simple art of cutting with a blade.
At that answer, Gwi-yeong Geom-hon’s body wavered, a faint smile caught in his throat.
Around him, crimson blood began to spread.
“Is it over already?”
At the voice from behind, he turned to see not only Yun and Gwak Gi-ryang, but also Yi Song and Jwa-ryang returning with Hui-jun and Cheol Ja-ryong in tow—all the remaining members of the Red Sparrow Squad gathered there.
“What of the ones who pursued them?”
At Ryu’s question, Yi Song smiled.
“Fortunately there were only ten of them in one group, so it wasn’t difficult to handle them.”
Ryu nodded at Yi Song’s reply.
“Then we should rest for a while.”
“There’s an old campground near here where we made camp before. We only need to move a short distance to reach it.”
Ryu nodded again at Yi Song’s words.
He too had no desire to rest in a space filled with the corpses he’d created.
***
In the center of a clearing where eight individual tents had been pitched, people gathered to sit.
“What’s his condition?”
At Yi Song’s question, Hui-jun, who had come out from his tent after laying Cheol Ja-ryong down, shook his head.
“Not good. The internal injuries are worse than I thought. The Quick-Acting Herbal Medicine I have won’t be enough. We need to return to the Garrison as soon as possible for proper treatment.”
“Then shouldn’t we hurry back rather than delay like this?”
At the words of Paeng-gyeong, who had the deepest connection among the group to Cheol Ja-ryong, Dong-pil grumbled.
“That’s the problem—we can’t.”
Despite Dong-pil’s casual speech toward someone who appeared his senior, Paeng-gyeong did not protest.
In their brief time together, he had recognized that Dong-pil’s skill was at least a rank above his own.
In Jianghu, strength came first in all things.
Still, he had no intention of using formal speech with someone who appeared younger than himself.
His voice came out rough and raised.
“Then you’re saying we should just leave him as is!”
Before that sentence had even finished, a chill of killing intent poured out from Jwa-ryang without restraint.
Yi Song, who checked Jwa-ryang, spoke in a measured tone.
“I’m saying it once more—show respect for your senior.”
“Surely you’re not claiming this man entered Jianghu before me!”
“I care nothing for who entered Jianghu first. What we care about is only who joined the Red Sparrow Squad first.”
“You mean anyone who joins the Red Sparrow Squad later becomes a junior?”
“That’s right.”
“Even if that person were the Alliance Lord?”
It was a provocation dressed in words that could never come to pass, wrapped in meaninglessness.
Even at that provocation, Yi Song answered without wavering, his tone unmoved.
“Even if it were the Iron-Blooded Alliance Lord, not just the Alliance Lord, it would make no difference.”
Paeng-gyeong wanted to protest that this was nonsense, but he could not.
He had seen the existing Red Sparrow Squad members nodding as though it were obvious.
As Yi Song looked around at the newcomers, including Paeng-gyeong, he drove the point home.
“There will be no further warning. Take note—Insubordination in the Red Sparrow Squad carries execution. It is a rule with official sanction from both the Alliance Lord and the Iron-Blooded Alliance Lord, so it would serve your survival to comply.”
Saja-pyeong was a place where even a moment’s hesitation could cost countless lives.
It was the Jeok-yeol-dae, and especially the Red Sparrow Squad, who bore the fiercest burden as its vanguard.
Perhaps because the newcomers, including Paeng-gyeong, had dimly sensed this during the mission, not a single one of them questioned whether he truly meant it.
After surveying the chastened newcomers, Yi Song turned his gaze toward Hui-jun.
“How long can he last?”
“At most four days, at least two. After that passes… the Dantian will suffer severe damage, and you won’t be able to use Inner Force Healing Art properly anymore.”
Yi Song sat in troubled silence at Hui-jun’s answer, and Paeng-gyeong, unable to hold back any longer, pressed the question again.
“So you’re saying we really have to stay like this?”
“We have no choice!”
This time it was Dong-pil who cast the reproach.
“Why?”
Paeng-gyeong, who had thrown out only a single word in a casual tone and now watched Jwa-ryang’s expression harden, reluctantly added the rest.
“…is that?”
“Insubordination carries execution. It’s not just within the Red Sparrow Squad. Under a No Retreat Order, anyone who withdraws without permission gets their head severed for insubordination!”
“That won’t happen. I guarantee it. So…….”
Yi Song cut off Paeng-gyeong’s words.
“How can you guarantee it?”
“Because that man is the son of So-ju Cheol-bang-ju.”
Yi Song’s eyes flickered with unexpected interest.
“I heard So-ju Cheol-bang-ju has three sons.”
“The youngest among them. In the Jianghu, he’s quite famous under the courtesy name Chamsohn.”
“Ah! The Tiger of So-ju!”
At Hui-jun’s exclamation, Yi Song’s gaze turned toward him.
“He’s well-known?”
“Very. As a troublemaker…….”
Hui-jun’s answer came with a slight glance back at his own tent where Cheol Ja-ryong lay resting, and Yi Song’s face took on an expression of understanding.
A prominent patriarch had cast his wild-spirited son into a dangerous place to temper him.
It seemed likely that the others’ circumstances would be similar.
But he did not pry into their identities further.
In the Red Sparrow Squad, the past was not something to be uncovered—it was something to be buried.
And as always when Yi Song’s gaze turned outward, it fell upon Ryu, who sat in front of his tent staring intently at a portrait he had drawn from his breast.

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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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