WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈

Chapter 19: Aftermath

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With the huge figure I had been facing gone, my view opened wide.

Several black-hooded bandits had crossed into the gap he had made when he forced his way in. The moment they saw their leader's corpse, every one of them froze.

When I turned toward them, they flinched and scrambled back over the wagons.

If I had pursued them, I could likely have cut down one or two more. But I had no desire to see any more blood, so I let them go.

The remaining black-hooded bandits beyond the wagons seemed to take a step back at first. Before long, they turned and began fleeing in a rush.

The confused sounds of their footsteps receded, then soon faded beyond the bend.

I stood there for a long while, catching my breath.

It had gone as I had anticipated.

Had I faced him head-on from the beginning, it would have been much harder. Still, it did not seem impossible.

My sword had worked against a martial artist. For some reason, the fact made one side of my chest grow warm.

I flicked my wrist, shaking the blood from my sword onto the dirt, then turned around.

Gwak Seok stood there, propping his broad sabre against the ground as he stared blankly at me. Yang Hyeon was frozen beside him as well. His mouth moved once as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Their gazes somehow stung, and I sheathed my sword.

After a long moment, Gwak Seok finally spoke in a rough voice.

"What in the world did you do before this?"

I had no suitable answer, so I merely shrugged and turned my attention toward the front of the procession.

The agency head stood beside the black horse, sword drawn. A cargo wagon was behind them, with one escort guarding each side. Several bandits lay strewn across the ground, so it seemed they had fought off an attack there as well.

Further ahead, I could still hear the clash of weapons. Looking closely, I saw that the battle between the escort captain and the giant was still raging.

The giant's clothes were already slashed in several places. His shoulder, flank, and wrist. Blood spread from every cut. His thick shoulders rose and fell as though he was quite out of breath.

The ground at the escort captain's feet was gouged up in a mess, but their stance was remarkably steady. They had clearly received proper training in swordsmanship.

It felt different from Ma Jeongsan's rough, straightforward sabre technique, which relied on force.

Even then, the giant swung his iron mace from side to side. The escort captain moved their feet swiftly and slipped away at an angle. The head-sized lump of iron swept past their hem, only a foot away.

As they evaded, the tip of their sword briefly cut across the giant's flank before withdrawing.

Another line of blood spread.

But on closer inspection, there was not a single deep wound on his body.

The giant kept pressing down with his weight, leaving the escort captain too busy dodging to land a decisive blow.

Even so, they did not seem likely to lose. The agency head was also watching intently, as though ready to intervene if necessary.

I turned away and walked toward Jin Song, who had been knocked backward.

Jin Song was leaning against a wagon, one hand pressed to his chest as he breathed roughly. When I approached, he narrowed one eye and slowly pushed himself upright.

"Are you all right?"

"...I think a rib or two is broken."

Jin Song rubbed his chest once and let out a short breath.

"I can still breathe, so I won't die right away."

I could not tell whether he was joking or serious. When I held out a hand to support him, he raised one hand as if to say it was unnecessary and stood on his own.

Seeing that he could stand alone, his internal injury thankfully did not seem too serious.

Keeping one hand on the wagon, Jin Song lowered his voice. It was quiet enough that only I could hear.

"By the way, you use Inner Energy."

I looked at his face for a moment.

"I do. Is that so unusual?"

"Not common."

Jin Song rubbed his chest and caught his breath. The spot where he had been kicked seemed to trouble him, and he continued with a frown.

"I've spent over ten years scraping by as a wandering martial artist, yet I've only seen someone use Inner Energy once."

Then he silently looked me over again. He did not say anything, but it was clear he wanted to ask about my identity.

Was Inner Energy really that rare?

Hyeonam had told me to eat, so I ate. Hyeonam had told me to do something, so I did it. I had simply thought that was normal.

Practicing energy circulation every morning and evening, channeling energy into my sword and body. I had only done those things because Hyeonam told me to. Yet beneath the mountain, they were rare enough to count on one's fingers.

Just what kind of person was Hyeonam?

The thought crossed my mind briefly, but I soon pushed it aside and walked toward Ma Jeongsan.

Ma Jeongsan had planted his large sabre in the dirt and was leaning one hand on its hilt. Gwak Seok crouched beside him, tearing a long strip from his own hem and binding Ma Jeongsan's thigh.

"Escort Captain, I'll tie it tight. Bear with it for a moment."

Before he had even finished speaking, Gwak Seok roughly pulled the knot tight. Ma Jeongsan let out a low groan, but said nothing. His face was drained of color, and he only gripped the hilt of his large sabre tightly.

Looking at the binding, blood was no longer soaking through the cloth.

His thigh had been pierced clean through, so they would need to watch how it progressed. Still, his life did not seem to be in immediate danger.

Perhaps sensing my presence, Ma Jeongsan raised his head and looked at me.

Many things lay tangled beneath the surface of his pale face.

Did Ma Jeongsan also want to ask about my Inner Energy?

But before I could even tell what his expression wished to ask,

Boom!

At the loud sound from the front of the procession, everyone's heads turned at once.

Far ahead, the giant's iron mace was buried deep in the ground. A considerable distance now separated him from the escort captain. It seemed he had brought the mace down hard in their final exchange.

The giant pulled the embedded mace from the earth with one hand. His thick shoulders rose and fell with rough breaths. His gaze passed over the slopes on both sides before seeming to sweep toward us.

He stood still like that for a moment.

Even from afar, it was not difficult to guess what he was calculating.

The leader of the black-hooded bandits lay fallen on the ground, while the green-hooded bandits had scattered at some point. Half of his yellow-hooded bandits were also lying strewn across the slopes.

The giant slung the iron mace over his shoulder.

Then he put two fingers in his mouth and let out a long whistle.

At the sound, the yellow-hooded bandits scattered across the slopes and beyond the bend stopped one by one. Then, as though they had agreed beforehand, they all began withdrawing toward the top of the slope.

The giant was the last to turn. Despite his massive body, he leaped halfway up the slope at once. He paused for a moment, then turned only his head to look back this way.

His gaze seemed to fall upon us before he vanished beyond the slope.

The escort captain did not pursue. They simply remained where they were, sword in hand, watching the retreating group.

Only then did the sounds of weapons finally cease completely.

They remained on guard for about the time it took to drink a cup of tea, but when no further signs appeared, the procession slowly began to put itself back in order.

At the agency head's orders, the escorts scattered to inspect the dead and wounded. People from the protection convoy lay fallen all across the ground.

There were five dead in all. Two escorts and three laborers who had carried cargo. It was a small number compared to the dozens of bandits lying about, but this was the first time I had seen a familiar face, someone with whom I had exchanged a few words, lying on the ground with their chest pierced.

I felt as though I ought to be sad, but when I looked inside myself, even that feeling was not clear.

There were far more wounded. Ma Jeongsan's thigh had been pierced, while Jin Song had broken ribs. Several others had suffered cuts to their arms and flanks.

The two dead escorts were wrapped in cloth and laid to one side of an empty cargo wagon. They said the bodies would be carried back to the escort agency for funerals. The same would be done for the three laborers.

Soon, the chief steward stepped down from one of the carriages. Their thin body was completely unmarked by blood, so it seemed the carriage had not suffered any particular attack. The chief steward hurried toward the carriage Munhwi was riding in.

My eyes fell upon its closed door.

Munhwi. He also wore a sword at his waist, so he could not be an ordinary man. Yet in the midst of this chaos, he had not shown his face even once.

Perhaps he thought a battle of this degree was not worth dirtying his hands over. Or perhaps there was another reason he could not come outside.

Ma Jeongsan, Jin Song, and the other wounded who could not walk alone were helped into the empty carriages.

As I looked over the procession again, I noticed that Du Gi had come down from the slope at some point.

I did not know when he had returned. He stood quietly to one side of the procession, wiping his sword with a cloth. Bloodstains spread across his clothes, but he himself did not seem to have a single cut.

When our eyes met, Du Gi gave a brief nod. Then he looked back down at his sword.

When I looked beside me again, I saw a strange sight.

Jin Song was crouched to one side, clutching his chest as he rummaged through a bandit's clothes with one hand.

"...What are you doing?"

"This is all money."

Jin Song took several coins from the bandit's clothes and swept them into his pack. For someone who claimed to have broken ribs, his hands were remarkably deft.

Gwak Seok went even further beside him. He was turning over even the fallen bandits' underclothes, gathering everything he could.

Watching them somehow made my vision swim.

What kind of lives had these wandering martial artists lived?

Soon, three escorts ahead grabbed hold of a log lying across the road. They put their strength into it together, rolled it away, and shoved it tight against the roadside.

At last, the blocked road was open.

I roughly wiped away the blood caked on my face and hands. There was nothing I could do about the stains soaked into my clothes. Until we found nearby water, I had no choice but to travel like this.

The procession slowly began moving again.

People and wagons alike were covered in blood. A heavy, raw stench of blood hung over the entire procession.

* * *

Despite their exhausted bodies, the procession kept moving briskly for a long while. The tension that the bandits might appear again at any moment made everyone twice as tired.

After rounding bend after bend, a narrow stream appeared beside the road. The agency head temporarily halted the procession. We would catch our breath here and wash off what clung to us.

I wanted to jump straight in, but naturally, we could not all rush down at once.

Half remained on the road to stand guard while the other half went down to the stream first. Once that half returned, the remaining half would go down.

I was among those left behind. Still, no one seemed eager to waste time in these blasted mountains, and my turn soon came.

The water was cold.

I cupped it in my hands and washed away the blood stuck to my face and hands. The dried blood dissolved into the water and ran red past my feet.

There was no time to wash my clothes, so I only brushed away what clung to my hands, face, and nape.

Even that made the smell of blood noticeably fainter.

As I was splashing water over myself, I sensed someone nearby.

I turned, expecting Gwak Seok, but Ma Jeongsan was standing there instead. Using his large sabre as a cane, he limped slowly toward me.

"...Is it all right for you to walk alone?"

Ma Jeongsan braced one hand against a broad rock by the stream and sat down heavily. He looked down at his bound thigh once, then waved a hand as if it were nothing.

Then again, he was a man who had not let go of his sabre even at his age. He must have been through every kind of hardship. Looking at his fierce face, he did not seem the sort to make a fuss over a wound like this.

Since he looked all right, I did not ask further and went back to splashing water over myself. Ma Jeongsan said nothing for a while either. Only the sound of the stream flowed between us for some time.

After roughly washing myself off, I stood. I wiped my wet hands on my hem and was about to turn away.

"Um."

Still seated on the broad rock, Ma Jeongsan finally spoke. He hesitated for a beat.

His expression had seemed complicated for some time. Was he, like Jin Song, about to ask about my Inner Energy?

But the words that came from Ma Jeongsan's mouth were entirely unexpected.

"How is a Daoist priest of Wudang working as an escort warrior?"

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