Free Web NovelNamgung Jin realized that the Four-Directions Hall Administrator was feeling a strange sense of guilt.
"It isn’t so. You arrived in time."
When he quickly answered to lighten that guilt, Pang Shihyeon finally turned to look around at the stone walls.
"Have you destroyed the Passage?"
With a dark expression, Namgung Jin shook his head.
"Because it’s Han Cheol, not even a hairline crack will form."
"Han Cheol?"
The Four-Directions Hall Administrator’s eyes narrowed.
It was not a negative reaction.
Her expression said she could hardly believe it, but the corner of her mouth was twitching as if she were pleased.
'Why is she happy about this?'
Namgung Jin soon understood the reason.
"All of this iron plate is Han Cheol? No, is it even possible to refine Han Cheol like this? To lump together, over such a wide area, a mineral that most people would struggle to melt at all! On top of that, gathering this much Han Cheol... I doubt even the Martial Alliance could manage it!"
"..."
She really was pleased.
Pang Shihyeon seemed excited by the Han Cheol that had rolled into her hands.
"Can we take this with us?"
Namgung Jin looked at her with a clouded gaze.
"Well... I don’t see why not, but wouldn’t it be burdensome to take it if we can’t break the formation? We don’t know how this thing operates... if we mishandle it, it might connect to the Central Plains. In that case, it would be better to leave it Outland, or sink it in the sea."
Suddenly, the look in the Four-Directions Hall Administrator’s eyes changed.
"We can’t just leave it like that."
Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Namgung Jin thought he saw greed in her eyes.
Gathering her inner power, Pang Shihyeon lowered her stance by about a handspan.
Ssssshhhh.
The moment Pang Shihyeon lifted her foot, Namgung Jin flinched in fright and drew back.
The No-Trace Blade Art.
A blade art said to leave no trace of anything but air.
It was the Pang family’s fearsome martial art, a power so overwhelming that under its blade, everything simply dissolved.
From her stance, Namgung Jin realized Pang Shihyeon was about to unleash the No-Trace Blade Art.
The Namgung Clan Head had advised him that if a Pang family member bent their knees and turned their foot along the direction of the Eight Trigrams, he should avoid a fight if at all possible.
Because that was the stance taken right before the No-Trace Blade Art was executed.
The foot that had been stepping toward the cell shifted to the ta position.
Pang Shihyeon narrowed her range, matching it to the Han Cheol, and adjusted her strength.
Even before Namgung Jin had fully retreated, Pang Shihyeon had drawn in enough inner power and, stepping through her footwork to gather momentum, unleashed the No-Trace Blade Art.
Kwoooooom.
The stone conduit shook violently, and the hot water surged up to the ceiling.
Planting his sword into the floor, Namgung Jin braced himself.
Like teeth knocked out by a punch, the ceiling spat out bricks in a rattling cascade.
Thud. Thud. Kwooom. Thud.
Dodging the falling stones, Namgung Jin quickly moved toward the front of the Passage.
In front of the Han Cheol, the ceiling was bare, with nothing left to fall.
Facing the Han Cheol, he parted his lips.
"Administrator..."
In that previously solid Han Cheol, a long crack had formed.
Smiths capable of working Han Cheol were rare.
It was a mineral that could only be refined through highly specialized methods.
But it seemed even that had no defense against the Pang family’s strength.
Just as Namgung Jin was about to close his hanging jaw, Pang Shihyeon flicked her hand.
"Step back for a bit."
Without gathering inner power, she simply swung her sabre with raw strength.
Crash. Kwoooom. Crash.
From a distance, the Black Tortoise Pavilion Lord’s reproachful voice rang out.
"Administrator! Please go easy! My ears are going to burst!"
But Pang Shihyeon did not stop, and swung her sabre as she pleased.
She did not cut through the Han Cheol.
The sabre’s edge pounded the stone wall like mad, kicking up clouds of dust.
In the end, the Han Cheol could not endure and broke free.
Plunge.
With a satisfied look, Pang Shihyeon reached into the water and lifted out the fallen Han Cheol.
"Pavilion Lord! I’ve got something good to give you to celebrate your promotion."
"Ma’am?"
"To commemorate your becoming Vice Pavilion Lord, I’ll have a beloved sabre made for you!"
Laughing heartily, Pang Shihyeon suddenly grew serious.
Her gaze shifted to Namgung Jin.
"...On second thought, you were the one who discovered the Han Cheol; I shouldn’t be the one deciding like this."
Namgung Jin almost replied that it was fine, then closed his mouth.
There was something he very much wanted to ask of the Four-Directions Hall Administrator.
"The Han Cheol is fine. It’s just..."
A plea far more desperate than this mere Han Cheol circled the inside of his mouth.
"If it’s all right with you, there is something else I’d like to ask of you, Administrator."
"What is it?"
In a low voice, tight with tension, Namgung Jin made his request.
"Please tell me what Elder Cheonghae was doing in the Four-Directions Hall."
The brightness that had briefly lit Pang Shihyeon’s face went dark.
He knew it was an uncomfortable subject, but Namgung Jin did not back down.
"I want to know what happened to Elder Cheonghae. Why he ended up being chased by the Blood Cult, and what he had been doing to become their target."
"..."
"Only then can I know what Elder Cheonghae was trying to tell the Namgung Clan, and finish the work he tried to do in his stead."
Silence fell.
If the Four-Directions Hall martial artists had finished subduing the Han family’s armed force, no sound of it reached them.
Listening to the quiet sound of water, Pang Shihyeon turned her gaze to the other entrance.
Namgung Jin did the same.
He could feel dozens of presences approaching.
"It doesn’t seem like the right time to discuss such things."
Pang Shihyeon set the metal plate against the wall as she spoke.
Namgung Jin assumed the Four-Directions Hall Administrator was dodging the answer.
Hiding his disappointment, he drew his sword.
But then something strange slipped into his ears.
"I’ll tell you when things are quieter later."
Namgung Jin’s gaze returned to Pang Shihyeon.
She moved her sabre as if beginning a formation, and with a solemn face said,
"Tang Young Lady will be coming, so let’s clear the way first and talk again afterward."
It was permission.
Neither the Four-Directions Hall nor Sagye Hall shared matters within their jurisdiction with other factions.
After Namgung Cheonghae’s death, the Namgung Clan had lodged complaints more than once, but the Four-Directions Hall had remained utterly silent.
There were more than a few Martial Alliance swordsmen who had died doing Four-Directions Hall work, yet no one had ever been briefed on the Hall’s internal affairs.
For him, an outsider, to be informed of their internal business was an extraordinary decision.
Pressing down on the pounding of his heart, Namgung Jin straightened his posture.
He did not know whether the ones approaching were Blood Cult men or nobles even worse than that, but he wanted to cut them all down, quickly, and hear the answers.
***
Sohwa climbed swiftly, placing her feet on the protruding parts of the cliff.
"Aaagh!"
Screams continued to rise from below.
It was the sound of Crimson Blood cultists falling.
With ragged arms and melted flesh, climbing the cliff, there was no way they could move at full speed.
Of course, not all of them were like that.
Kang. Kang.
The sound of spikes being driven into the rock wall pierced her eardrums.
Feeling the thick stench of blood and the heat, Sohwa quickened her pace.
A handspan from the top, Sohwa lifted her head.
She was almost there.
At that moment, she felt a rush of heat spring up from below.
Instinctively, Sohwa pulled her body back.
Crash.
An iron spike drove into the spot where she had just been.
"Ha."
Eyes blazing with fury met hers.
It was the Blood Cult man who had mocked her in front of the Passage.
With a completely healed hand, he yanked out the spike once more.
The metal he had driven into the ground must have been one of his own spikes.
Crack.
No sooner had he reclaimed his weapon than he charged in.
Sohwa dodged as quickly as she could, but he was faster.
"Urgh."
A spike drove into her side.
Whether because he had controlled his strength, or because of the thick cotton padding of her clothes, it did not sink in too deep, but her flesh split wide.
Drip.
Bloody water and torn scraps of violet cloth fell to the ground.
The instant he pulled the spike back, Sohwa sprang upward.
Tap.
Barely reaching the top, Sohwa flinched.
Because she had climbed up from the middle of the mountain, the cliff itself did not feel that high.
But on the side that fell away to the sea, it was like a sheer drop of ten thousand feet.
On top of that, the piled snow was frozen in a thick layer; a misstep would send her sliding all the way to the bottom.
Boom.
Sohwa shifted her gaze in the direction of the sound.
Looking down, she saw the black sea.
On the jet-black surface, like polished jade, a small light flickered.
It was an icebreaker.
Turning her body back inward, she could see the city outside the Ice Palace.
But shrouded in darkness and steam, it was hard to tell what was happening.
She did not particularly worry about those who remained.
She had left the Han Cheol Passage in their care; at worst, they would retreat to Hubei.
The same went for the Crimson Blood Hall Lord, who was facing the Crimson Blood Hall Lord beneath the cliff.
She believed that before long, Hae-rak would subdue the Crimson Blood Hall Lord and catch up.
'All I have to do is take care of myself properly.'
Resolute, Sohwa took off her long coat and hung it on a jutting rock.
In the wind, the violet coat fluttered.
Just then, another sound tore the air from the sea.
Boom.
The closer it came, the faster her heart pounded.
Everything — the darkness filling her eyes, the sound in her ears, the cold and heat clawing at her cheeks — all of it disturbed her reason.
To gauge the options she still held, Sohwa calmly straightened her sleeves.
She had almost run out of concealed weapons and poison.
One small throwing dagger, a shuriken, a single vial of paralytic poison, and...
Her fingertips brushed a small case.
Quietly stroking it, Sohwa turned her gaze to the sea.
Behind the ship, she could see shards of ice and the heaving sea.
Boom.
At that moment, a Crimson Blood cultist who had climbed the cliff appeared before Sohwa.
Crash. Crash.
Before long, other cultists also reached the top and surrounded her.
"One of your arms is mine." frёeweɓηovel.coɱ
When one cultist spoke with a laugh, the sound of heavy breathing rose all around.
Even out of breath, they laughed along with their superior.
Sohwa fixed her gaze on the Crimson Blood cultist approaching her.
Through the ripped hem of his clothes, she could see flesh that had healed.
"I can understand recklessly swallowing the Blood Demon’s blood. When your martial skill is weak, you might well rely on such depraved techniques."
Sohwa undid her folded sleeves.
Her hand dropped to the ground, hidden beneath the long cloth.
"But do you know that if you drink the Blood Demon’s blood, your life becomes bound to him?"
"Ha ha, you really worry about everything. It’s no threat at all to those of us who do not go against his will."
Sometimes, to raise their ice arts, people took yin-nature elixirs, and to maximize extreme yang energy, they took yang-nature elixirs.
Since the Blood Art was a depraved power said to have been created by the Blood Demon, it made sense that they would use the Blood Demon’s blood to maximize that twisted strength.
Sohwa looked around.
Dozens of Blood Cult men clung to the cliff like spiders, staring at her.
Among them were some whose bodies had completely healed like the elite in front of her, and others whose sunken cheeks still leaked blood.
Just as the effect of an elixir varied depending on the martial skill and constitution of the one who took it, the limits of the Blood Art’s use seemed to differ according to each cultist’s level.
As she looked at them, Sohwa understood.
That even so, there was no way she could break through them and escape.
She turned her gaze toward the only direction where she sensed no presence.
The frozen sea and the icebreaker came into view.
Crash.
It seemed the surface on that side would soon be breaking as well.
Even if, by luck, the Fourth Seat saw her signal, he might not be able to come to the island.
"Tsk, you can stare all you like, but there’s no retreat there, so give it up."
Sohwa lifted her gaze to the front again.
As if he could no longer afford to waste time, the Crimson Blood elite thrust his spike toward her.
He was thoroughly riled up.
He was not trying to seize her — he was attacking.
When the spike was a handspan from her, Sohwa threw her throwing dagger.
But it only managed to lightly cut the back of the cultist’s hand, and the blunt spike kept to its path.
Crack.
Like spearing a fish with a harpoon, the cultist drove the spike into Sohwa’s waist.
"Let’s go down before the hunting dog catches up. To the Passage outside the palace... ngh..."
The cultist, in the middle of speaking, let out a strange sound.
His body had gone numb.
At that moment, Sohwa took hold of his hand.
Realizing something, the cultist tried to throw her away, but his body had already frozen.
Crack.
The moment she pulled the spike out, she drove it deep into the Crimson Blood cultist’s body.
Wrapping both hands around the cultist’s hand that gripped the spike, Sohwa spoke.
"Don’t let go."
Pressing her body close, Sohwa shifted her center of gravity.
At that small movement, the cultist’s body toppled backward.
"Hall Lord!"
The cultists shouted in panic, but the Hall Lord and the woman disappeared behind the cliff.
