Chapter 179: Fate (4)

The horse bandit’s eyes went wide.

An arrow?

He didn’t know if it was an arrow or what.

What mattered was that his forearm had been blown off—and whatever had taken it had kept going, punching clean through into his thigh.

“KRAAAH!”

He collapsed, screaming in agony.

Basarek’s eyes wavered.

“What the hell?!”

Then more than a dozen flashes erupted.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD!

Those streaks of light punched straight through the foreheads of the horse bandits standing around the hostages.

Basarek whipped his head around, eyes blazing.

There!

A low, scrubby hillside—one hundred fifty paces away in a straight line.

Arrows fired from there had hit his men with perfect precision.

“What kind of bullshit tric—!”

FLASH!

Another streak of light.

And this time it targeted Basarek himself—far faster, far sharper than before.

Basarek instinctively lifted his palm and struck.

BANG!

The arrow that met his palm-force skimmed along his cheek and flew past.

Drip.

Blood ran down Basarek’s cheek. The trajectory had been deflected, but the power hadn’t died.

Strong!

A heavy shock lingered in the hand that had batted it away.

To pack that much inner force into an arrow—he’d never even imagined it. It wasn’t lacking compared to his own ability.

Basarek shouted.

“Kill all the hostages!”

Mo Yong-woo shouted back.

“Charge!”

RUMMMMBBBLE!

Two hundred warhorses at the front surged into a full charge.

The two hundred warhorses lined up behind them didn’t move an inch. Instead, the Demon-Sweeping Corps soldiers mounted on them sprang down and rushed in with agile movement arts.

It was an assault that paired a cavalry spearhead with infantry capable of flexible engagement. A battle unit made up of outstanding martial artists—fast, lethal, and fluid—built on formidable martial arts.

“WAAAAAA!”

Behind the dead bandits, more horse bandits rushed in and swung blades toward the hostages.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD!

Before the blades could even touch the hostages, the horse bandits spewed blood and collapsed.

It was truly a divine-level chain rapid-fire shot.

How could she see the situation from that distance? And even if she could, how could she land every shot without fail?

It was nothing short of astonishing.

Goddamn it...!

He’d never guessed their hidden card would be an archer of this level.

So it wasn’t a feint. He was staking everything on that archer?!

It was the first time.

The first time he’d failed to read the other side’s hand.

Basarek shouted.

“Leave the hostages! Fall back to the rear!”

HIIIIIHIIING!

In that instant, a warhorse let out a roar like a dragon’s cry.

The one who surged forward ahead of every rider and foot soldier—

Was Mo Yong-woo.

He crashed straight toward Basarek’s front.

Basarek’s blue gaze flared like fire—and unmistakable confusion flashed through it.

Mo Yong-woo said coldly,

“I told you I would kill you for sure.”

Demon-Sweeping.

Words spoken by the commander of a force meant to sweep away demons.

That murderous voice sent a chill down Basarek’s spine.

“Don’t think you’ll die comfortably.”

FLASH!

Sword-force rolled in like a wave, vicious enough to split Basarek apart in a single breath.

A red glow flickered over Basarek’s fist.

KWA-BOOOOM!

Surprise flashed across Mo Yong-woo’s face.

“Did you think you could underestimate a bandit leader?”

With a powerful stomp, Basarek thrust out an arm like a log.

A dark crimson aura seeped from his entire body—sinister as hell.

Sinister or not, the power packed into a single punch was monstrous. It shoved not only Mo Yong-woo but even Mo Yong-woo’s warhorse backward.

“Count yourself lucky, kid.”

WHOOSH!

Basarek launched himself.

Movement arts unbelievably fast for a man that huge. He crossed the outer compound in a blink, like he was flying.

Basarek shouted,

“What are you idiots doing?! Drop the northern wall! We’re taking the mountain road!”

That was when—

WHOOOOSH!

Basarek felt the light around him darken.

A single shadow had latched onto his back.

“I told you clearly.”

Mo Yong-woo had leapt down from his warhorse and chased him in an instant, raising his greatsword high.

“You die here.”

“You little brat!”

FLASH! KWA-BOOOOM!

The two men were blasted apart in opposite directions.

Bandits who got hit by Basarek’s body went tumbling in a heap. Mo Yong-woo, buried into a building wall, tore himself free at once and charged again.

For a moment, his eyes caught the hostages.

Naked, trembling—faces drained to a deathly white.

I’ll protect them.

CLINK. CLINK.

Mo Yong-woo tore off his shoulder guards and arm guards and flung his outer robe toward the women.

The robe, packed with True Qi, fluttered and landed in front of them.

Mookbi will protect them.

He had ordered her not to fire a single arrow until he gave the signal. In other words, Mookbi had disobeyed a superior’s command.

But Mo Yong-woo had no intention of blaming her.

It had been razor-thin. He’d stepped in without a plan and the fight had turned into a chaotic melee, but because of that, the hostages had lived.

If anything, they owed her gratitude.

Now all that remained was the fight.

BANG!

Stomping hard, Mo Yong-woo hurled a powerful palm-force forward.

Basarek’s eyes flashed.

BOOOOM!

A horse bandit coughed blood and collapsed.

Basarek had thrown one of his own men into the path of the strike—using him as a shield.

Disgusting, but Mo Yong-woo didn’t flinch. This was a madman who had ripped a woman’s head off while she was alive. Nothing he did could be surprising.

THUDTHUDTHUD!

Basarek ground his teeth.

Mo Yong-woo’s movement as he closed the distance—almost possessed—wasn’t the most practical, but it was exquisitely precise. A divine-level body movement that perfectly sealed off any path of escape to the rear or sides.

So now, Basarek had no choice but to meet him head-on.

And if he was going to do it, he should finish it fast.

RUMMMMMBLE.

Dark crimson aura surged up from Basarek again.

He was drawing up Sumeru Reverse Buddha Art, a secret art from Tibet’s Little Thunderclap Temple.

And opposing him—

Mo Yong-woo unleashed the vast sword-force of the strongest sword art, Heaven-and-Earth One Hundred Eight Sword Solutions.

Their sword and fist collided head-on.

CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG!

As the savage duel between leaders began, the Demon-Sweeping Corps poured in, smashing down the outer compound’s remaining barriers.

THUD! THUD!

Horse bandits began to fall, vomiting blood one after another.

It was a chaotic melee. If the bandits had stayed tightly clustered as one, it would’ve been different. But in a scattered brawl like this, the Demon-Sweeping Corps—whose individual martial strength was higher—had the advantage.

Still, the Gray Wolf Band wasn’t weak.

THUD!

“Ghk!”

One soldier spat blood and went down, his chest pierced by a short spear thrown with uncanny timing.

The Demon-Sweeping Corps’ first casualty.

Casualties were inevitable on missions, but this was too soon.

A horse bandit shouted,

“Stick together! These bastards are a disorganized mob!”

“WAAAAAA!”

Horse bandits were simple. They were warriors who’d gained experience crossing countless death-lines—one-man-armies.

But their essence was still horse bandits.

Which made them even scarier.

At the shout that the enemy was a disorganized mob, the Gray Wolf Band’s momentum changed completely. Their simplicity became an advantage as strong as any Peak Realm martial art.

KWA-BOOOOM!

It was unbelievable.

The huge bandits who’d smashed through the merchant group’s outer wall slammed their bodies forward, using sheer mass to shove mounted soldiers back.

With innate divine strength and beyond-the-frontier martial arts, their power was a living embodiment of tearing mountains up by the roots.

People said cavalry strength was ten times infantry. In front of them, that kind of number game was meaningless.

“Kill them! Kill!”

“KRAAAH!”

The Gray Wolf Band, which had been pushed back at first, began to match the Demon-Sweeping Corps in earnest.

No—more than that.

They were slowly overwhelming them.

THUD! THUD! CRACK!

More than ten of the Demon-Sweeping Corps’ cavalry collapsed on the spot.

SLASH! THUNK! THUNK!

They cut the throats of fallen riders and drove spears into the torsos of the soldiers who’d been on their backs.

Even if they wanted to move, they couldn’t move properly. Every Demon-Sweeping Corps soldier had a name in the martial world—but they’d never experienced a true group-versus-group battle like this.

Without training and experience, even exceptional individual martial skill can’t be used at half its capacity.

That was group combat.

War.

KWA-BOOOOM!

Mo Yong-woo raised the flat of his greatsword to block, but Basarek’s fist was fine.

A fist art that boasted the purity of iron.

Not only was the raw hardness of that fist shocking—the destructive power of the sinister aura wrapped around it was, too.

This can’t continue.

CHIRRING—THUD!

Basarek staggered back three steps.

Even though the kick that slammed into his abdomen hadn’t carried full force, he’d only retreated three steps. His defense was absurd. Had he mastered a Peak Realm external body art?

This can’t go on like this.

CLAAAANG!

Mo Yong-woo brought the greatsword down and carved into Basarek’s forearm.

He’d cut him—but it was only flesh. The moment the blade touched, Basarek twisted his arm and avoided a severing wound.

Practical brawling trained beyond conscious thought—down into instinct itself.

He was far too good to be “just” a horse bandit leader.

We got the advantage of the ambush. Now it’s time to pull back.

Even while fighting an enemy he couldn’t ignore, Mo Yong-woo read the battlefield with precision.

Just a bit ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ late.

If he’d seen it in time, he could’ve minimized the Demon-Sweeping Corps’ losses.

But you couldn’t expect divine judgment on a first campaign. Even so, Mo Yong-woo’s talent was undeniably exceptional.

Mo Yong-woo shouted.

“Leader Jin! Pull the force back!”

Jin Pae’s eyes flashed as he cut down bandits.

He didn’t want to retreat. He wanted to wipe every last one of these madmen out.

But it was the commander’s order. He couldn’t refuse.

And the fact that the order was given to him specifically—rather than to all company leaders—meant Mo Yong-woo trusted he would obey.

“Demon-Sweeping Corps! Full retreat!”

SHIIING!

The soldiers who’d been pressing the bandits hard looked at Jin Pae with heated eyes.

“But Leader—!”

“It’s the commander’s order! Fall back, now!”

Gyu Byeok clenched his teeth.

“Second Company! Full retreat!”

The soldiers hesitated.

Again, it was too late.

If Mo Yong-woo’s decision had been a touch later but absolutely certain, the troops would’ve reacted at once. But they didn’t.

The reason was simple.

They were overheated. They knew orders were absolute, and they weren’t “ignoring” them—but the martial artists’ pride slowed their response by a single beat.

And the result was brutal.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD!

Arrows from horse bandits who’d been waiting for the perfect moment poured down on the Second Company’s cavalry.

THUDTHUD! HIIIIIHIIING!

They blocked more than half the arrows—but not all.

More than thirty cavalry dropped where they stood.

“No!”

“Retreat! Retreat!”

Only then did the retreat speed up.

But the Gray Wolf Band was relentless. They knew from experience that an unplanned retreat crushed an enemy’s morale.

KRAAANG!

Basarek grabbed Mo Yong-woo’s greatsword.

His palm split and bled, but the tremendous power of Sumeru Reverse Buddha Art kept the blade from biting into bone.

“So, kid.”

Basarek grinned white.

“Who was gonna kill who?”

“......It really doesn’t go the way I want.”

“KHAHAHAHA! You’re only figuring that out now?!”

HOOF—!

A crushing force shoved Mo Yong-woo harder and harder. In raw power, Basarek clearly had the upper hand.

“It’s been fun for once. Now get lost, kid commander.”

That was when—

CRACK!

“Ghk—!”

Basarek clutched his nose and staggered.

“Y-You bastard—what the hell did you just—?!”

“We’re done playing nice.”

Mo Yong-woo wiped his brow.

He’d headbutted Basarek and shattered his nasal bridge.

“Now that I don’t need to worry about my men anymore, I won’t be the same as before.”

“What the fuck are you saying, you dog—?!”

That was when—

RUMMMMBBBLE!

Every tree on the southern hillside exploded apart.

A rushing mass appeared, smashing down rocks and trees indiscriminately as it charged.

Basarek’s eyes went round.

Mo Yong-woo’s eyes gleamed with killing intent.

“Today, you’ll be captured here.”

KHEUHHHHHNG!!

With a furious roar, a white storm crashed through the southern outer wall.

It was the Evil-Smiting Corps.