Episode 289: Embers

The group believed that Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang deserved to die for his crimes, but his misdeeds were far from over.

In the next village, a similar scene awaited them.

This time, six bodies swayed gently among the willow branches. Once again, they were people who had some connection, however small, to Tang Mujin and his companions.

“That bastard deserves to have his head bashed in.”

”…Amitabha.”

In the past, when the beggars of the Beggar Sect would curse, the monks of the Shaolin Temple would at least pretend to scold them. But now, even that pretense was gone.

The Shaolin monks and the beggars worked together to lower the bodies from the trees and examine them.

“These poor souls haven’t been dead for long.”

“At most a day, maybe a day and a half…”

With the villagers having died because of their association with the group, it was impossible for them to enter the village openly or ask for food.

They prepared to bypass the village entirely.

But unexpectedly, the villagers approached them first. It was the first time this had happened during their journey through the northern regions.

“Please, wait a moment!”

”…What is it?”

Expecting the villagers to hurl curses at them, Hwahwa Nogae stepped forward to respond. If someone had to bear the brunt of their anger, it might as well be him.

Having lived his life as a beggar, Hwahwa Nogae was used to being cursed at by ordinary people. He was even prepared to take a few hits if it would ease their pain.

These were people who had lost neighbors and family. If taking a beating could help them find some peace, he was willing to endure it.

But the words that came back were unexpected.

“Could you stay in our village for a while?”

“What?”

Hwahwa Nogae was taken aback.

Instead of being told to get lost or being threatened with clubs, they were being asked to stay. And it didn’t seem like a joke. The villagers’ faces were filled with earnestness.

“Why are you asking us to do that?”

“A man with a missing ear killed our people and left, saying he’d send his men to kill ten more villagers in a few days.”

“Ah…”

If it had been anyone else, they might have dismissed it as an empty threat. But given what Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang had already done, they couldn’t take it lightly.

“Please, protect our village so no more people die.”

The group quickly understood why Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang had said such things to the villagers.

His actions had two purposes.

First, by killing villagers ahead of the group’s arrival, he hoped to provoke them into pursuing him more urgently.

Second, by threatening to send his men to kill more villagers later, he aimed to prevent the group from maintaining their full strength.

To protect the villagers, they would have to leave some of their members behind.

Hyeongong clicked his tongue in disgust.

“Despicable yet cunning. Truly a beast of a man.”

Facing away from the villagers, the monk addressed the group.

“Does anyone here not realize that Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang is setting a trap?”

“No, we all know.”

“Good, no need for lengthy explanations. Our course of action is clear. We’ll form an elite pursuit team and move swiftly to take Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang’s head.”

“What about those not in the pursuit team?”

“They’ll be distributed among the affected villages to guard against any future threats. Cheongho, Cheongjin, Cheonggak! Follow the villagers!”

Hwahwa Nogae asked the monk.

“Leaving people behind and rushing after Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang—aren’t both exactly what he wants? Are we really going to fall into his traps?”

“Preventing harm to innocent people is our only option, so we must face it head-on. Does anyone have a better idea?”

Neither the Shaolin monks, the beggars, Tang Mujin’s group, nor even Hwahwa Nogae, who had raised the question, voiced any objections.

The righteous warriors of the orthodox sects bore the character for ‘righteousness’ because they chose the right path without hesitation, even when it was dangerous.

In such situations, prioritizing one’s own safety and shifting the risk to others was the behavior of the unorthodox, the demonic sects.

However, as he listened to the monk, Hwahwa Nogae was deep in thought.

’…Perhaps it’s best if I stay behind.’

Hwahwa Nogae was quite certain about the current situation.

When Geolseon died while they were chasing Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang, he was sure that Gwangyeomra had a hand in it.

And if he joined the pursuit team now, he was almost certain to encounter Gwangyeomra. This wasn’t mere suspicion; it was a certainty.

Hwahwa Nogae found that prospect uncomfortable.

He especially didn’t want Gwangyeomra to reveal the secret pact they had made in front of everyone.

The best course of action was to avoid meeting Gwangyeomra altogether.

At the same time, this was also for the group’s benefit.

Most likely, Gwangyeomra’s trap involved Hwahwa Nogae in some way.

But if Hwahwa Nogae wasn’t there, the group wouldn’t fall into the trap.

Just as he was about to subtly suggest that he should stay out of the pursuit team, the monk continued speaking without hesitation.

“The next step is to divide into the pursuit and reserve teams. First, the core forces of Shaolin and the Beggar Sect will be in the pursuit team. Myself, Manryeokseung Cheonguk, and Hwahwa Nogae.”

“Uh…”

“Tang, you’ll join us too. Your martial skills are commendable, and your unique talents will be invaluable. Namgung, you’ll come as well. Stealth and agility are key to tracking. Gyu Chogae will be included. Jeong Eon will also be part of the pursuit team.”

Hwahwa Nogae’s mind briefly registered an odd choice among the names, but he had more pressing concerns.

He decided to swallow his pride and embarrassment and communicated with the monk through a secret voice transmission.

• Elder, can’t I stay with the reserve team?

• Denied. If Gyu Chogae is going, how would it look if you stayed behind? The Beggar Sect would feel ostracized.

• But…

• As the leader, you can’t act based on personal preferences. You must realize you’re now the head of the Beggar Sect. Besides, your skills are quite impressive.

Receiving unexpected praise only made Hwahwa Nogae’s mind more tangled.

‘Should I insist on not going? Or should I secretly confess to the monk about my dealings with Gwangyeomra?’

Neither option seemed right. A wrong move could lead to being branded a traitor and having his head smashed by the monk’s palm.

He could also be accused of colluding with Gwangyeomra to kill Geolseon. It was almost certain.

Even as the monk finalized the decisions, Hwahwa Nogae couldn’t find the right answer.

“Judging by the state of the bodies, we’re definitely getting closer to Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang.”

“Keep moving.”

The group continued to run together, leaving a few members behind at each village they passed.

Tang Mujin was increasingly worried about the dwindling number of fighters. When he expressed his concern, Namgung Myeong and Hyeongong reassured him. Unlike Tang Mujin, they seemed unconcerned.

“Is there really a need to worry? We’re moving with Hong Geolgae.”

“Exactly. Even if things go awry, they always turn out well in the end. Why the sudden pessimism?”

Hong Geolgae was not only an indispensable friend to Tang Mujin’s group but also a kind of human talisman.

Even when situations seemed dire, they believed that as long as they did their best, things would eventually work out for the best.

Such was the extraordinary nature of Hong Geolgae’s luck. It was less a talent or skill and more a peculiar phenomenon.

Traveling with Hong Geolgae meant they could find the only inn within a hundred-mile radius in a remote mountain area.

When they got lost and somehow reached their destination, they would realize the path they took was actually a shortcut.

On the day they entered an inn, fresh ingredients would have just arrived, and if they wanted to drink, the tavern would have just received its finest liquor. A series of small and large strokes of luck.

The reason Tang Mujin’s group could fight so bravely, as if they had a death wish, was partly due to Hong Geolgae. They had the confidence that they wouldn’t die as long as they were with him.

However, recently, Tang Mujin had been more worried. He felt that Hong Geolgae’s luck wasn’t what it used to be.

Even Hong Geolgae himself seemed less confident in his own luck.

Tang Mujin’s doubts deepened after hearing about Geolseon’s death.

Hong Geolgae’s rapid advancement to the pinnacle of martial arts was a stroke of great fortune, but it was different from the luck of the past.

It was a fortune tinged with lingering regrets.

A slightly incomplete luck.

And then came the news of Geolseon’s death. The luck seemed to have taken a strange turn.

Not wanting to dampen their spirits before an important battle, Tang Mujin chose to express his thoughts more gently.

“I just wonder if relying solely on Hong Geolgae’s luck is the right approach.”

Hyeongong chuckled.

“There’s no need to doubt. Without his luck, what else does Hong Geolgae have?”

At first glance, it sounded like a harsh insult.

But Hyeongong only made such remarks when he knew the other person was ready to respond.

Sure enough, Hong Geolgae lifted his chin and replied arrogantly.

“What do I have? The martial prowess of a ‘master.’”

“Ha!”

As Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong chanted in rhythm, “Hong Hyung, Hong Hyung!” Hong Geolgae’s shoulders rose high with pride.

In the usual cheerful atmosphere, Tang Mujin found himself able to shake off his worries.

“Well, luck is luck, even with a few strings attached. Besides, there’s no guarantee that Geolseon’s situation is related to Hong Geolgae. I mean, how could it be, given the distance? It’s irrational to link everything to Hong Geolgae.”

The group gradually dwindled until only the tracking team, as Shin Seung had mentioned, remained. Including Tang Mujin’s party, there were seven of them in total.

Before long, they stumbled upon faint traces of human presence and halted.

There were footprints, not yet fully covered by dust.

“Are these the footprints of the Blood-Faced Wolf?”

“The direction seems a bit off.”

The footprints had changed direction. Until now, the Blood-Faced Wolf had been moving in the opposite direction of the orthodox martial artists, but these prints led into the nearby forest.

Tang Mujin scanned the surroundings and noticed a small clump of dirt to the right of the footprints.

He picked it up and examined it.

When a drop or two of water falls on fine dust, it naturally clumps together. This clump was exactly like that, about half the size of a fingernail.

Tang Mujin rubbed the dirt between his fingers and brought it to his nose. His keen sense of smell detected a faint metallic scent.

“It’s blood.”

He then checked the position of the dirt clump, about seven or eight inches from the footprints. The scene played out in his mind.

Someone walking with a sword in their right hand, a drop of blood falling from the blade, pulling the dust together, and slowly solidifying. Or perhaps it was blood dripping from a bandage wrapped around a severed ear that hadn’t healed yet.

Either way, it was likely the Blood-Faced Wolf.

“These footprints and the blood seem to be traces of the Blood-Faced Wolf,” Tang Mujin concluded.

Shin Seung nodded in agreement. “Then let’s follow them.”

The group cautiously entered the forest, aware that their adversary could appear at any moment. Their movements were so silent that even their breathing was barely audible.

Thanks to their stealth, the night insects continued their chorus, undisturbed. The incessant chirping was a good sign; it meant no one else was nearby. In the forest, the first thing to vanish when someone approaches is the sound of insects.

They walked for a while, the insect song unbroken, until Namgung Myung suddenly whispered for them to stop.

“Hold on.”

“Do you see something?”

“There’s someone there.”

Namgung Myung pointed into the darkness, but nothing was visible.

In the dim light of the crescent moon, with no campfire and trees obscuring the view, seeing anything would have been strange. They trusted Namgung Myung’s confident voice that someone was indeed there.

Hwa Hwa Nogae asked skeptically, “How can you see through this darkness?”

“Any martial artist from the Namgung family has this level of vision,” Namgung Myung replied, though it was an exaggeration. But as the only Namgung family member present, his word was taken at face value.

Shin Seung asked, “Can you identify who it is?”

“I’ll need to get closer to find out.”

“Please do. You’re the best at sensing people in the dark.”

Namgung Myung moved even more cautiously, his steps so light that not even the sound of twigs or dry leaves could be heard. He seemed to walk on top of the leaves rather than crushing them.

Shin Seung and Manryeok Seung were impressed.

“Is the Namgung family’s footwork always this silent and light? I thought it was fast and firm but lacked subtlety and adaptability.”

“I didn’t know either. It’s enlightening.”

Namgung Myung stopped at a distance, observing the figure closely.

He saw a white bandage wrapped around the head, covering where the right ear should have been.

‘It seems to be the Blood-Faced Wolf.’

He considered attacking but decided to leave it to Tang Mujin. Tang Mujin could throw a wheel blade through the dense trees and take out the sleeping Blood-Faced Wolf.

The insect chorus continued unabated. Namgung Myung carefully turned back.

He saw the eyes of his companions watching him in the dark. Seven people, fourteen eyes.

Then it hit him—a creeping sense of unease.

‘Including me, there should be seven of us.’

Someone had stealthily approached the group while he was away.

Suddenly, he saw the faint glint of moonlight on a large blade.

Namgung Myung inhaled sharply and shouted, “Watch out! Behind you!”

With his warning, the large blade moved. Its target was Shin Seung.

In life-and-death situations, one often has to rely on senses other than sight to evade an attack. Experienced martial artists can dodge a blade just by hearing it slice through the air.

Shin Seung should have been able to dodge, even from behind. Namgung Myung believed that.

But the blade made a sound like a whistle or the chirping of insects, masking its approach.

Shin Seung realized the danger not through sound but through the faint pressure on his skin and the sensation of the blade piercing his flesh.

The large blade drove through Shin Seung’s back.