WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈

Chapter 22: A Bloody Path

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Sacha.

It was a term I had never heard before.

Mount Hua Sect, the Plum Blossom Sword Chief, Nangong, the Cold-Faced Sword, and Sacha. Of all the words exchanged since a little while ago, there was not one I properly understood. At best, I could vaguely guess at a few of them.

But one thing was clear. The situation I had stepped into was an absolute mess.

That was why I tried to commit each unfamiliar word to memory. Mount Hua Sect. Plum Blossom Sword Chief. Nangong. Sacha.

If I did not want to get caught up in something like this again without even knowing why, I would have to learn what those names meant someday.

Meanwhile, the chief steward spoke, their sword still pointed at the Plum Blossom Sword Chief.

"Mount Hua's proud Plum Blossom Sword Corps..."

Their voice was dry.

"...has been found after meeting with misfortune in these deep mountains. How very unfortunate."

The smile vanished from the Plum Blossom Sword Chief's face in an instant. After staring blankly at the chief steward for a moment, he gave a hollow laugh.

"...Can you manage alone?"

"That won't be difficult."

The tip of the chief steward's sword did not waver.

"Very well. I've said enough."

The Plum Blossom Sword Chief slowly raised his sword.

"Either way, I must inspect that wagon."

With those words, the Plum Blossom Sword Chief took a step toward the wagon. The chief steward moved as well, cutting off his path at an angle.

The Plum Blossom Sword Chief unleashed his sword, and the chief steward met it.

From that moment on, neither sword could be seen.

Clang. Clang.

Pale trails appeared and scattered wherever the swords crossed, but the blades themselves were nowhere in sight.

After my initial shock, I drew up a handful of energy from my dantian and sent it into my eyes. Only then did the blurry trails become somewhat clearer.

The Plum Blossom Sword Chief's sword was like scattered flower petals.

It seemed to aim for the shoulder, then scratched at the side. When that was knocked aside, his wrist turned and the sword fell toward the thigh.

One sword became five, then ten, striking ceaselessly at different places. Yet there was no opening between them. Before one strike was withdrawn, the next had already extended along another path.

It was the same sword art as the two people I had cut down earlier, but its speed and density could not be compared.

Yet the chief steward facing him was formidable as well.

The chief steward had only one sword, but that one sword was heavy. Rather than chase every scattered branch, they chose the stream coming straight ahead and crushed it down all at once with a weighty move.

Whenever their swords collided, the Plum Blossom Sword's rapid strikes could not withstand that weight and bounced aside. A single move cut off whole clusters of brilliant variations.

The chief steward drove their sword through that break, straight toward the Plum Blossom Sword Chief's chest.

The Plum Blossom Sword Chief twisted his upper body aside to avoid the tip. Then, from that twisted posture, he flicked his sword, sending another cluster of strikes pouring toward the chief steward's neck and shoulders.

Boom! Boom!

Even the sounds of the collisions were different. The Plum Blossom Sword cut in with fine strikes, while the other sword received and crushed them all at once.

"...W-what is happening right now?"

Yang Hyeon asked haltingly beside me. When I glanced back, he stood there holding his broad sabre, staring blankly at the two fighters. It seemed as though he could not see anything at all.

I had no time to answer and turned my eyes back to them.

Both fighters possessed martial skill beyond anything I had seen before, but I could vaguely sense the fight gradually tilting to one side.

Whenever the chief steward heavily crushed one stream, the Plum Blossom Sword Chief launched the next strike even faster. Because each move was so heavy, it took one more breath to withdraw it and move on to the next.

The Plum Blossom Sword Chief slipped into that gap. While the chief steward destroyed one stream, two more sprang up. In the end, the crushing sword could not keep up with their number.

There were more and more streams to choose from and suppress. Because every move was heavy, there was less and less time to catch a breath.

One step. Then another.

The chief steward's feet were slowly being pushed back.

I stopped using my enhanced vision.

Staying here any longer would be a fatal mistake.

I glanced at the black-clad figures. Those who had scattered toward the wagon were now standing in a circle, watching their leader fight. Did they already believe victory was certain?

Looking closer, I saw one person among them wearing escort agency clothing. The face looked familiar. They seemed to be one of the temporary escorts near the front of the convoy.

Had they been acting as a spy?

From the way things looked, no one on the escort agency's side seemed stronger than the chief steward. Even the agency head could only watch the two fight with his face pale as a sheet.

Munhwi was an unknown factor, but seeing him hiding in the carriage, he probably was not skilled enough to turn this situation around.

If they decided to rush in together, we would have no way to hold them off.

So I had to slip away quietly before that fight ended.

I looked at Yang Hyeon. Then I took in Gwak Seok and Jin Song, standing blankly in the distance. Where was Du Gi? Since I could not see him, perhaps he was one of those lying far away on the dirt.

Could I escape with all three? If that was impossible, then at least Yang Hyeon beside me. If even that proved difficult, I would have to get away alone.

As I turned back toward Yang Hyeon again.

Thrust.

"Uh?"

The tip of a sword suddenly emerged from the center of Yang Hyeon's chest.

The sight was terribly strange.

Yang Hyeon stared blankly at his own chest. His face looked as though even he did not know what had sprouted from it.

His lips moved, but only a short, deflating sound escaped. It did not become words.

The sword slid free. Only then did Yang Hyeon's knees buckle. Still holding his broad sabre, he crumpled to the side.

Beyond him stood a black-clad figure. Unlike the two people I had cut down earlier, they did not charge in. They simply stood where they were.

Slowly shaking Yang Hyeon's blood from their sword, they glanced at the two black-clad figures lying nearby. Then they raised their head and looked at me.

"This one doesn't seem to be it."

Their eyes were dry. Fine wrinkles lined the corners of them.

"Then it must be you."

For some reason, those words sounded far away.

Yang Hyeon's fallen form filled my sight. The hand gripping his broad sabre still could not let go of its hilt.

The face that had said his vision went white after cutting down a person for the first time that day. The face that had puffed out his chest, saying he had not been third at his martial arts school for nothing. The face that had said perhaps his father would look at him again if he returned home after making a fortune.

All those faces passed through my mind at once, then sank into the face now pressed against the dirt.

Then my own image suddenly overlapped with his.

If things had gone a little differently, I too could have ended up sprawled in this damned mountain without ever setting foot in my hometown again.

"Wudang?"

That single word snapped me back to my senses. Their gaze had already shifted to my hand. They must have seen the pattern on the guard of my sword.

Wudang again. Damn Wudang.

"Why is Wudang... traveling with Nangong?"

They asked after closing their eyes as though holding back anger. I had nothing to say, and I did not want to speak with them anyway, so I answered shortly.

"...I am not from Wudang."

At that, the hesitation that had briefly crossed their face vanished completely.

"Bullshit!"

Perhaps they thought I was telling an obvious lie. With an angry shout, they rushed at me.

Their sword scattered, aiming at my shoulder and side at once.

Fortunately, they had not used Inner Energy yet. If so, there was no reason for me to use mine first. I had a little more than three-tenths left, not enough to waste recklessly.

I hurriedly drew a large circle, guiding the sword aimed at my shoulder away and knocking aside the one falling toward my side.

The sword I knocked away seemed to bounce up, then rode that rebound straight toward my neck. I leaned my upper body back and raised my sword at an angle, guiding its tip aside.

Another sword was already there where I had redirected it. It came down from above, scraping along my thigh. I dropped my sword with it and caught it at an angle, but I was slightly late. The tip grazed my thigh.

A thin line of blood rose.

The next sword tips seemed to aim for my chest and head at the same time. If I guarded my chest, the sword toward my head pierced through. If I guarded my head, the one toward my chest drove deeper.

Whenever I chose one side and received it, the sword was withdrawn as though it had been cut short, then moved to another place. From my side to my thigh, from my thigh to my shoulder.

It never remained in one place.

The greatest problem was that their Sword Path was fundamentally different from what I had faced for ten years.

It was extremely difficult to receive a sword that scattered in ways I could not predict.

What was more, their sword seemed to read my Sword Path. Whenever I tried to draw a circle and guide it away, their sword would cut across at the flow's weak point. More often than not, the circle was broken before it could close.

I had somehow found openings against the two people I cut down earlier, but this person gave me no room even alone.

One exchange. Then two.

With every exchange, my feet were pushed farther back.

I did not know when they would draw up their Inner Energy. If I missed that moment, it would be over. Even as I received their sword, I watched for any sign that it was speeding up.

At the same time, I judged when to unleash my own energy.

A few more exchanges passed.

The clothes already torn in several places had become rags, fluttering in the wind.

My arms, sides, and thighs were split shallowly whenever a sword tip I failed to fully redirect grazed me. Blood spread down my clothes and sprayed across the dirt wherever I moved.

Avoiding serious injury was the best I could do. I could not find any path out.

At this rate, all that remained was to be cut to death. I quickly came to my senses and focused on following their Sword Path.

Their sword changed endlessly, but soon I noticed one thing.

When they scattered their quick strikes, they thrust briefly and swiftly. But only on the few occasions when they made a deep thrust did they put their shoulder into it and let their body follow.

During that move alone, the scattered sword gathered into a single stream, and for a brief moment, there was no room for it to escape into the next change.

It was a clear opening. But whenever it appeared, I was busy guiding it away, and my sword was tied down there as well. Even when I saw the opening, I had no sword to send into it.

Then what if I did not block that move with my sword? If I put all the strength meant for blocking into a counterattack, I could send my sword into their exposed body.

In return, I would have to give up a spot of my own flesh.

But did I have another choice? Anywhere was better than losing my head.

I made up my mind and waited for that Sword Path to come again.

I guided away the rapid strikes, then guided away more. I received them without pause, waiting only for the moment their sword gathered into one stream.

Then at last, it did.

Their body followed as the sword thrust straight for my chest. The move I had waited for.

Rather than receive it, I twisted my body slightly and guided the sword so that its tip would only graze my left shoulder.

But their sword came in farther than I expected.

Thrust.

A dull sensation ran through me as the blade pierced my left shoulder.

My vision seemed to turn white, but I clenched my teeth and tightened my grip on my sword.

So breaking my ribs had been useful after all.

Then, in an instant, I flared my Inner Energy and shot my sword like an arrow toward their exposed chest.

But they judged quickly. The moment their sword pierced my shoulder, their eyes followed my sword, which had vanished from view, and they immediately let go of their own sword.

Then they sprang backward. They retreated in an instant, and it seemed they had flared their Inner Energy as well. My thrust stopped just before their chest.

I had lost a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

As they moved away, I saw their eyes dart rapidly.

From the tip of my sword stopped before them, to their sword lodged in my shoulder, then to the dirt where that sword would fall.

I followed their gaze to the ground.

A short distance away, the swords of their fallen companions lay scattered on the dirt.

Could I really be faster?

Even if I squeezed out my remaining energy and reached them, what if they picked up one of those swords in that time?

Even if I struck during that brief moment when they were unarmed, I would only face that endless sword again soon after. That move would not work a second time, and my remaining energy would be gone.

I made my calculation in an instant.

I halted the momentum carrying me forward, stomped hard on the ground, and turned my body back. Then I poured my remaining energy into my feet and ran for the slope by the riverbank.

"You bastard! Where do you think you're going?"

An angry shout erupted behind me. Footsteps kicking off the dirt followed soon after. They must have picked up a sword.

I gritted my teeth and burned my Inner Energy. The slope drew closer.

But the river was still far away, and the energy in my feet dried up quickly. Step by step, my body grew heavier. The footsteps behind me became clearer instead.

They were right behind me.

It did not seem I would reach the river. All or nothing.

I twisted my running body and sent my sword behind me.

But they were one step faster. They lightly knocked aside the sword I had sent with all my strength, and their sword came down straight toward my chest.

Its path looked as slow as an eternity.

Clang!

But a sword thrust from the side barely knocked the sword that had reached the space before my chest upward.

Startled, I looked to the side.

Du Gi stood there with a grim expression, thrusting his sword straight at them.

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