The Legend of Red Cloud - Chapter 17

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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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Episode 17. A Painful Memory from the Past
“He won’t die.”
Lee Song spoke in response to Ryu’s voice, colder than he’d expected.
“You know as well as I do that for a martial artist, a shattered Dantian is no different from death.”
“But if we pull back now, what about the other teams deployed elsewhere in this place who are counting on us and executing their operations? Are their lives worthless?”
Lee Song had no answer to Ryu’s question.
Into the conversation between those two, Dong Pil forced his way in.
“Wait? Are there other people deployed on this operation besides us?”
There wasn’t a soul among the Jeoksajjo members who failed to grasp what that implied.
Even Jwa Ryang, who had been quietly listening until now, joined in.
“Don’t tell me we’re the bait.”
Dong Pil caught the meaning of Ryu’s silence and Lee Song’s poorly concealed distress, and his voice came out incredulous.
“Good grief! So we really were the bait. No wonder those Heuk-gwi bastards came swarming in like that……”
Behind Dong Pil’s sigh came Jwa Ryang’s complaint.
“I told you so. I said it was strange that he was sending those guys away so suddenly. Damn it! I was right all along. Stabbed in the back!”
The rookies’ necks shrank under the glare of Jwa Ryang’s predatory gaze.
Seeing how uncomfortable the rookies had become, Lee Song stepped forward.
“These men have done nothing wrong. Besides, now is hardly the time for us to be casting blame on one another.”
“That’s a fair point, I suppose. But allow me to ask just one thing, sir.”
Lee Song nodded at Jwa Ryang’s question.
“What is it?”
“When did you realize? After we entered this place? Or immediately after we came under attack from the Heuk-gwi?”
He does not ask whether Ryu knew before entering Saja-gwan.
Because he holds the belief that Ryu is not the sort of person who would carry out an operation in such a manner, regardless of what orders he might have received.
That faith among the team members was answered.
“When I received the Immediate Order.”
“Ah yes, an Immediate Order written in plain speech—that was odd, come to think of it.”
Having learned all he needed to know, Jwa Ryang fell silent and withdrew.
More than that.
Jwa Ryang soon joined Dong Pil, who had begun recovering usable supplies from the bodies of the slain Heuk-gwi scattered about.
Knowing the severity and brutality of the fight about to come, they chose to invest their time in finding anything more that might aid them, rather than in idle complaint.
Jang Min-su, who had been watching the two of them, turned to Ryu with a question.
“What do you intend to do now?”
“Nothing changes.”
At Ryu’s decisive answer, Lee Song’s face clouded with sorrow.
He understood why Ryu was so unshaken.
There was a precedent from a similar situation in the past when Ryu had decided to withdraw.
Even then they had faced adversaries of overwhelming strength in succession, and there were more than one or two casualties in critical condition.
The problem was what happened afterward—the outcome had been anything but favorable.
The enemy persisted in pursuit, and the Jeoksajjo, forced to abandon their strengths and flee, had been compelled to leave more than half their comrades behind within Saja-gwan.
Among them were not only corpses cut down by enemy blades, but also those who had chosen to become obstacles for the pursuers, if only briefly, preferring to be a hindrance rather than a burden—so that their comrades might live.
In other words, they had to flee while leaving living comrades behind.
After that day, expression had vanished from Ryu’s face.
Of course, he had never been a man of abundant emotion even before, but he had not been quite as expressionless as he was now.
That incident had evidently left a deep wound in Ryu as well.
Even Lee Song still sees the faces of those comrades who laughed and told him to go, to leave the rear guard to them.
If Lee Song, who had been with them for only a few months at that time, was haunted by those faces, what could one say of Ryu, who had endured years of hardship alongside them?
Because Lee Song knew Ryu’s wound so intimately, he could not bring himself to suggest turning back for Cheol Ja-ryong.
He understood, as Ryu did, that a retreat would exact a terrible price.
After all, casualties always peaked during a withdrawal.
But that was not all that weighed on him.
If they halted the operation and turned back to save Cheol Ja-ryong alone, as Ryu said, then the other teams using them as bait would certainly not survive.
One cannot make light jokes about those who used them as bait and act as though ignorance is bliss.
Because the Jeoksajjo itself had used other teams as bait more than once.
Since all the members of the Jeoksajjo understood this, not Lee Song alone, but none of them spoke of it.
For that reason, when Hwangbo Jang-sung—astonished to see them accept Ryu’s order without question—stepped forward, it came as a surprise.
“I understand the danger, but we should be allowed to go back and look for our own. Could you not grant us that?”
It was Hwangbo Jang-sung, not Paeng Gyeong, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, and his coming forward caught Ryu’s attention.
In Ryu’s stead, Lee Song posed the question.
“Is that what you all think?”
At that question, Hwangbo Jang-sung turned to Gwak Gi-ryang and Yun with an awkward expression.
He hadn’t consulted with either of them beforehand.
Noticing this, Lee Song asked Gwak Gi-ryang and Yun directly.
“What do the two of you intend to do?”
At the question, Gwak Gi-ryang—who had been exchanging glances with Yun for a moment—nodded.
“They’re our cohort, so we’ll stand with them, whether we live or die.”
With Gwak Gi-ryang’s answer settling the new members’ resolve, all eyes—Lee Song’s included—turned toward Ryu.
Standing silent under the weight of those gazes, Ryu lifted his gaze toward the sky.
Lee Song’s eyes flickered with something unspoken as he noticed Ryu’s line of sight tilted slightly toward the south.
Ryu’s calm voice reached Lee Song’s ears.
“Do as you wish. But.”
Lowering his gaze to fix it directly on Hwangbo Jang-sung, Ryu continued.
“You pursue only southward. As for the matter of defiance of orders—resolve it among yourselves. Any objections?”
“None, sir.”
There was not a moment’s hesitation in Hwangbo Jang-sung’s reply, and Ryu’s head dipped in acknowledgment.
“Good. Now go.”
The moment Ryu’s permission fell, Hwangbo Jang-sung led the charge, and all the new members—Gwak Gi-ryang and Yun flanking Paeng Gyeong, who carried Cheol Ja-ryong on his back—bound together and raced southward.
In them, not a trace of reluctance at parting from the Jeoksajjo could be found.
What was curious was that the corner of Ryu’s mouth rose ever so slightly as he watched them go.
“You——”
“Now that those troublemakers are dealt with, let’s run the operation properly.”
Ryu cut off whatever Lee Song had been about to say, forcing him to close his mouth without voicing his question, though he didn’t much mind the interruption.
He knew from Ryu’s nature that even if he asked about something the man didn’t wish to reveal, he’d get no answer.
And from experience, such matters rarely had negative consequences for the Jeoksajjo’s wellbeing.
So Lee Song could maintain his composure while abandoning his curiosity.
Besides, those remaining after the new members’ departure were already the seasoned members whose movements were perfectly synchronized—and that was good too.
For all these reasons, the Jeoksajjo members who resumed their advance found their footfalls surprisingly light.
Though they couldn’t shake their worries entirely, as evidenced by Dong Pil’s murmuring.
“But will those guys really be okay?”
The concern in the eyes of members who glanced back once or twice lingered in the air behind them, mingled with Dong Pil’s voice.
***
The Jeok-yeong-jo’s flight, which resumed after half a double-hour of rest, grew more grueling than before.
Not only did they have to cut through densely forested mountains where even a single human body could barely fit, but they had also climbed and descended sheer cliffs dozens of zhang high—barehanded—three times already.
What startled Bong Jin during this forced march was that the seemingly frail Moyong Ji-eun possessed martial prowess every bit as exceptional as his own members.
To be fair, he’d noticed since the initial contact that she had been honing her martial skill while running with his technique of light movement, but he hadn’t expected it to reach this level.
Exceptional tactical acumen bordering on a legendary steed, light movement and martial skill rivaling that of Jeok-yeong-jo members—it was simply astonishing.
He now saw how foolish his initial prejudice had been, born simply from her being a young woman.
In any case, thanks to her, the escort proceeded without incident.
Had she been ignorant of martial arts, such movement would have been impossible, and they’d have been caught by their pursuers long ago.
Bong Jin shook his head to dispel thoughts of the horrifying scenario, then refocused his mind.
Distraction while scaling a cliff like this was profoundly dangerous.
It was when they reached roughly the midpoint of the fourth cliff they were ascending.
Screee-crack! Thud!
A sickening sound followed the terrifying whistle of tearing air, echoing off the cliff face.
And on the cliff, the corpse of a Jeok-yeong-jo member hung limply, run through by a long spear.
“Enemy! Enemy attack!”
Before Bong Jin’s alarmed cry had finished reverberating, the tearing whistle sounded again.
Screee-crack! Thud!
Once more a long spear skewered another member like a piece of meat, pinning him to the cliff face. Bong Jin, forcing his eyes away from the corpse of his fallen comrade, barked an order.
“Faster! Move faster, I said!”
At his urging, the Jeok-yeong-jo members scaling the cliff quickened their pace.
Despite straining with all their might, only six—including Moyong Ji-eun—managed to reach the cliff’s summit safely.
That meant five members of the Jeok-yeong-jo, nearly half their number, had been skewered and pinned to the cliff face.
As Bong Jin stood there in a daze, Moyong Ji-eun’s urgent voice cut through.
“That’s the Ink-Spear Technique—the exclusive martial art of Heuk-gwi Yi, the squad leader. His spear-throwing is accurate from three hundred paces away, which means the others must be coming around by another route.”
In other words, while this squad leader pinned them down on the cliff, the other Heuk-gwi members were circling to cut off their escape.
Understanding her meaning, Bong Jin urged the survivors forward in the direction Moyong Ji-eun pointed and began running again.
Now was truly the time for a desperate, all-out sprint.
***
More than two double-hours had passed since they began pursuing their quarry within sight, and Heuk-gwi Yi’s irritation had reached its peak.
There was no avoiding it—they could see the fleeing figures clearly enough, yet they couldn’t manage to catch them properly.
By any reasonable measure of skill in light movement technique, this should have been impossible; the pursuers were plainly superior to those they chased.
And yet it was happening, precisely because those fleeing with Moyong Ji-eun belonged to the Jeok-yeong-jo—an organization trained to perfection in infiltration and reconnaissance.
For a pursuer who could not afford to sacrifice speed, those versed in such advanced concealment arts became the worst conceivable match.
The Heuk-gwi unit, forced to move at ever-greater velocity to catch those fleeing at terrifying speed, had passed right through members of the Jeok-yeong-jo more than once—warriors who had cleverly hidden themselves mid-stride, their presence erased, invisible to even the keenest eye.
Because of this, it happened often enough that the Jeok-yeong-jo would emerge from ground the Heuk-gwi unit had already traversed and resume their flight.
It was precisely for a situation like this that Moyong Ji-eun had indicated her intention to defect to the Maeng-ui-dan and specifically designated the Jeok-yeong-jo as her escort.
And that choice had proven its worth abundantly.
The problem was that no one had appeared yet—despite what her calculations predicted should have happened by now.
If, by some mischance, he chose not to intervene…
‘We’ll all die. All of us. Including me.’
With growing urgency, she scanned the terrain around them, yet found no sign that he had intervened at all.
That absence pressed down upon Moyong Ji-eun’s mind as she poured every ounce of strength into the desperate flight alongside the Jeok-yeong-jo.

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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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