WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈

Chapter 25: Every Person for Themselves

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I was at a loss for words. I had suspected something was off, but Nangong's second young master?

I tried to imagine how powerful the Nangong clan must be. Mount Hua Sect had sent experts of that caliber after the carriage, and names like Wudang and the Alliance were tangled up in the matter.

If the clan was one of the pillars in a situation like this, it could not possibly be some ordinary family. And he was its second son.

In a great clan, where everything was passed down through blood, someone with that bloodline would be in a position to know most matters as clearly as the palm of his hand.

Then he had to know what had been loaded onto that carriage, as well as what the Sacha the Plum Blossom Sword Chief had mentioned was.

Far from merely knowing, he must have stood at the very center of it all. He had even hidden his identity to join that carriage.

Had he not said that he had intended to travel alone, but had no choice because of a family matter?

I had studied his expression closely at the time. His words had not seemed like lies, but perhaps I had misread him.

No.

Maybe I had not misread him at all. Every word he had said might have been true. That he was traveling because of a family matter, and that the escort agency was looking for people.

Either way, I had drifted into the center of this damned mess without understanding a thing.

Not hearing a lie did not mean I had not been deceived.

He simply had not told me who he was or what sort of road this protection convoy was taking. And I had not known to ask. I had not even known what I should ask.

When you knew nothing, this was how you got caught up in things without hearing a single lie.

That thought naturally drew my eyes toward Du Gi across from me. His words probably had not been lies either.

But Du Gi could not possibly have laid everything bare. I had heard only what he had decided to reveal.

Besides, he was someone who used Inner Energy. How much Inner Energy did Du Gi have left?

Judging by that speed earlier, he was certainly using it, but I had no way of knowing how deep his reserves ran. My dantian had been empty for quite some time.

What would I do if I ever had to cross swords with him? Could a body without Inner Energy stand against someone who used it? This was no place for energy circulation.

I turned every possibility over in my head.

When energy was poured into a sword, it visibly became faster and heavier. When I faced the black-clad martial artists, I had blocked one properly, yet had still been thrown back a full ten feet. There was no chance of winning in a direct clash.

But no matter how much energy a sword carried, it could not be strong at every moment.

Even a heavy sword had to extend before it could be heavy. If I blocked its path just before it extended, before its power reached the tip...

A sword with its flow broken would not be able to carry all of that energy. It was worth trying.

Besides, Inner Energy did not last forever. Everyone seemed to bring it forth only at critical moments while trading sword strikes, so it was probably not just me who ran dry quickly.

Then, if I could avoid receiving it head-on, redirecting and deflecting as I endured...

As I continued that train of thought, Du Gi suddenly spoke.

"Let's get some sleep. We have to find the road tomorrow."

Du Gi immediately gathered the dry brush beside him and chose a place to lie down. Without showing much wariness, he quickly turned his back and lay on his side.

Munhwi had been the same, and so was this man. Was that lack of vigilance the confidence of martial artists?

When I touched the clothes I had spread out, they had dried fairly well in the fire's heat. I gathered up my martial attire, put it on, and found a place by the fire where I could rest my back.

I set my sword down, sheath and all, within easy reach, then closed my eyes to the sound of sparks flying.

I meant to put off sleep and keep only my ears open. I thought I would feel better if I could at least keep watch over the movements behind my back.

But my body would not listen.

In one day, I had cut down bandits, crossed swords with black-clad martial artists, and been swept down a river. Once the tension left me, all the fatigue I had held back rushed in at once. My limbs felt as though they were sinking into the dirt.

Crackle, crackle.

The sound of the fire grew farther away. Comforting myself that Du Gi must feel the same, I was dragged into sleep before I could even try to resist it.

* * *

Yu Jin-song led the way down the dark mountain path, cutting through the undergrowth.

According to the spy's report, there had only been a great many of them, and most were nothing but wandering riffraff. He had accounted for Nangong placing at least one expert among them. But he had never expected it to turn out like this.

He slowed and glanced back.

His junior fellow disciples following behind him were in a miserable state. Not one wore intact martial attire. Two carried dead fellow disciples on their backs, while another carried their corps leader. Including the spy's corpse, there were three bodies being carried.

The corps leader's condition troubled him most.

The left thigh had been split deeply, and the left arm was completely gone below the elbow. The bleeding had been stopped, but the way the leader's complexion was turning the color of ash did not bode well.

It had clearly begun after that bastard who had leapt out of the carriage had wounded the thigh with a sword.

Even if the leader had allowed a surprise strike, there was no way someone like that would have given up an arm to those insignificant men.

Poison. Could it have been poison from the Tang Sect?

Had those sinister bastards from Sichuan stepped into this affair as well? The thought sent a chill down the back of his neck. What were those great-clan bastards plotting?

They had severed Cold-Faced Sword's right arm, but it was a trade that did not add up at all. Two fellow disciples and one spy were dead, and even the corps leader's survival was uncertain.

How had it come to this? Had failing to recognize Nangong's second young master been the problem? His martial prowess was far above what they had heard.

But that was not all.

That bastard.

Yu Jin-song thought of the unfamiliar man.

That bastard had been the reason their night raid went wrong from the start. Even when trouble arose at the opposite entrance, he had never imagined Chumyeong and Hyeongsan would be sprawled across the dirt.

They had not yet fully matured, but they had been children worth teaching. They were not meant to die in a place like this.

And beside them stood someone carrying a Wudang sword.

At first, Yu Jin-song had doubted his eyes. Had Wudang joined hands with Nangong? Judging by how that person hid his identity, it did not seem to be something he could openly admit.

What unsettled him more was that bastard's sword had grown during the fight.

At first, the unfamiliar man had merely been dragged along by Yu Jin-song's sword. Then, in an instant, the unfamiliar man's sword had reached Yu Jin-song's chest. Forced to drop his own sword and retreat, Yu Jin-song had no choice but to fall back.

It was the first time since taking up a sword that he had ever been made to abandon one by another person.

He should have killed that bastard there.

If not for that swift sword of Mount Qingcheng Sect, he could have finished it. That person had surely been planted by the Alliance. One of those Bright Mirror Society bastards, no doubt.

And that final move. The moment his shoulder had been pierced was still vivid in his mind.

He had thought he had seen every promising younger talent Wudang possessed. It seemed Wudang had secretly raised a monster.

Yu Jin-song clenched his teeth and cut off that line of thought. There was nothing to be gained from dwelling on it now.

There was one thing he knew for certain.

While they had been throwing around the consignments used to disguise the top of the load, he had clearly seen it through the gap in a broken crate. Round cakes of compressed tea, stamped into shape. A dragon pattern stood out clearly on every surface.

A clan counted as the foremost of the Five Great Clans had violated a government prohibition. They said the Nangong clan head was greedy, and it seemed he had finally crossed the line.

But that was as far as they had gotten. They had buried two fellow disciples and one spy, the corps leader hovered at death's door, and all they had to show for it was this.

Still, Yu Jin-song steeled himself. It had not been a wasted trip.

They had said the destination was Yeongpa. Even if the goods arrived safely, selling that much tea would take time. They would have to seek out buyers and sell the goods off in portions. Until then, the tea would have no choice but to remain stored somewhere in Yeongpa.

The Sect Leader would calculate things the same way. The elder had gone so far as to send down a sword corps in defiance of the Alliance's order not to interfere.

Having obtained this much confirmation, the Sect Leader was not someone who would simply bury the matter like some bald Shaolin monk.

There was another problem.

That one from the Bright Mirror Society. Failing to kill that bastard would remain a thorn in his throat.

They had lost the physical evidence, while the other side had received a living witness whole. That Mount Hua Sect had defied the Alliance's order and struck at a protection convoy, that they had even crossed swords.

That one mouth was enough to tell the entire story. To think the bastard would jump into the river. He should have cut him down somehow at the time.

Would the Alliance's reprimand arrive first, or would their side's account arrive first? That would be the contest.

And once they secured the goods in Yeongpa, the Alliance would have nothing more to say.

"Hurry up."

After urging on his junior fellow disciples, Yu Jin-song quickened his own pace.

* * *

Nangong Hwi shook the blood from his sword.

His entire body ached. The Plum Blossom Sword Chief's sword had been as fierce as the rumors said. Blood ran from several places and dripped onto the ground.

His head felt a little dizzy as well. But it did not hinder his movements.

When he raised his head, he saw the chief steward sitting slumped against the carriage.

The place where the chief steward's right arm should have been was empty. It had been cleanly severed below the shoulder, and dark red stains spread across the cloth tied around the wound. It was the final desperate act left behind by the Plum Blossom Sword Chief.

Still, the White Wax Powder he had applied to the sword sheath had proven worth its price.

The sly face of the black-market dealer who had sold it to him came to mind. Had the dealer said it circulated through the bloodstream and slowly stiffened the hands and feet? It was said to be Tang Sect poison, so Nangong Hwi had bought it just in case. He had not expected to use it like this.

Nangong Hwi slowly turned his head toward the cart.

The consignments that had covered the load for camouflage lay scattered across the dirt. One crate that had been beneath them had broken at a corner, exposing its contents.

Round lumps wrapped in silk. Through gaps in the loosened silk, dragon patterns showed clearly even in the darkness.

Those bastards had seen the Dragon-Phoenix Cake Tea themselves.

The Plum Blossom Sword Chief had been carried away while hovering at death's door, so Mount Hua would not be able to attack again at once. But Mount Hua was not a group that knew how to give up. If they could simply overlook this after seeing it, they would never have sent down a sword corps in the first place.

It gave him a headache.

They should never have touched it from the beginning.

The faces of Father and Brother came to mind. Those two were the problem. Their greed was far too great for what they possessed. People said the name of a great clan carried weight, but even that name ultimately stood beneath the authorities.

It seemed only those two did not know what happened to a clan that defied a government prohibition. Perhaps they were dreaming an empty dream.

At this rate, Nangong itself might be erased.

Nangong Hwi turned his eyes back to the chief steward.

Brother's trusted retainer. The hands and feet that had carried this whole affair. And now, someone whose face had been exposed to Mount Hua.

Readjusting his grip on the sword, he slowly approached and bent one knee before the chief steward.

"What in the world is this mess?"

The chief steward lifted a bloodless face. Dry lips moved, as though trying to say something.

Before any words could emerge, Nangong Hwi's sword slashed across the chief steward's throat.

"You have worked hard all this time, Uncle."

The chief steward's eyes froze wide open. What the chief steward had intended to say would never be known.

"Second Young Master...!"

The agency head's voice tore out from behind him.

"How could you do such a thing? The chief steward is of the main house..."

"Agency Head."

Nangong Hwi cut off the agency head, then turned and continued.

"Among the escort warriors, how many know what was in the carriage?"

Pale as death, the agency head answered. Four regular escort warriors and one escort captain had handled the carriage and the Sacha transport cart. Of those, only two escort warriors remained.

Perhaps blood would out. Even in a situation like this, the former clan head's maternal grandchild could still make his calculations.

"Never mind them."

Nangong Hwi's gaze turned toward the darkness beyond.

He could see escort warriors scattered throughout the formation. There were not many survivors. They had been dragged here without knowing why, then had survived the storm of blades without knowing why.

But there was no other choice. Had they not seen what was inside the cart, Mount Hua's swords, and the sword stroke just now?

They would soon leave Seonharyeong. All that remained was to take one cart and reach Guju.

He narrowed his eyes and examined the faces before him. Jin A-pyeong was nowhere to be seen. It seemed he was already lying dead somewhere on the dirt.

He had been an odd one. His eyes, his ability to understand words, even the fact that he could read. Even through their few conversations, Nangong Hwi had sensed an unusual sharpness in him. Yet he had been as ignorant of worldly matters as a newborn child.

Nangong Hwi had wanted to share drinks with him at leisure and ask where someone had to grow up to become like that.

The taste in his mouth was bitter. Yet part of him found it fortunate. At least he had been spared the need to cut that throat with his own hand.

Nangong Hwi walked on, his sword hanging at his side.

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