Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Chapter 74 : One Guy

One Guy

Jeong-un and Baek Il-gang were each provided with uniforms that roughly matched their sizes.

They were standard blue uniforms, the kind you could see anywhere.

However, in Wonreung County, people deliberately avoided wearing blue clothing.

It was because they were reluctant to wear garments of the same color as martial artists.

Looking at this, one could glimpse the influence martial artists' groups had on commoners, regardless of their level of martial arts.

'Just a handful.'

Even with nothing but a minimal level of internal energy, one could play the part of a superhuman among the commoners.

Just being able to sense internal energy through breathing was deemed a talent.

That was why those Evil Faction or Dark Path bastards, with their meager martial skills, deluded themselves into thinking they were special.

Wearing the uniform of the Jeongmu Sect, Jeong-un fastened his sword at his waist when he felt a gaze from the side.

Turning his head, he saw Tang Yerin looking at him quietly with her large eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It just feels a bit different seeing you in clothes other than the Heavenly Martial Hall's uniform."

"Hm?"

Jeong-un asked back, puzzled. Felt different just because of clothing? What did she mean?

Tang Yerin continued.

"There are times I forget Young Hero Jeong-un's age. Maybe it's because you normally wear the same clothes."

"Ah..."

Jeong-un gave a barely audible sigh.

In fact, even among the Heavenly Martial Hall, Jeong-un's age was often a talking point.

He entered at a very young age and, faster than anyone, climbed to the second rank—it was only natural.

'What does age matter, anyway?'

Whenever this came up, he would mumble that to himself. But inwardly, it did bother him.

Even in this group, he was the youngest.

Not to mention Jo Gwang, who was clearly over twenty, even Tang Yerin and Baek Il-gang were a few years older than Jeong-un.

He already lacked martial world experience, having spent most of his childhood in his room.

And to be so young on top of it, it couldn't help but bother him.

The occasional moniker of "young hero" made him uncomfortable, too.

Of course, that didn't mean those around him treated him as a child.

His martial skill was so advanced that nobody saw him that way.

In fact, every time he displayed prowess beyond his years, they looked at him as if overwhelmed.

'It's not as if I can age faster just by working hard.'

After all, in the martial world, one was judged by their martial skill.

Everyone Jeong-un had defeated so far had been older than him, too.

"Let's go, then."

Baek Il-gang spoke beside him. He was neatly dressed in the blue uniform he'd been handed.

It was an unexpectedly tidy appearance.

"We're on a mission, aren't we? Let's do it properly."

Baek Il-gang responded a bit gruffly when he noticed Jeong-un's surprised gaze.

Jeong-un smirked.

For someone who usually seemed so carefree, he was quite dependable when there was work to be done.

He disliked riding horses, yet had managed just fine on their journey here.

"I kept the number of guards as usual, just as you requested."

The Jeongmu Sect Leader said. For this caravan, a total of twenty people were moving.

Including the wagon drivers and armed escorts, fifteen were with the merchant guild, and the remaining five were from the Jeongmu Sect.

Among those five, two—Jeong-un and Baek Il-gang—were wearing Jeongmu Sect uniforms.

"You're really sure we shouldn't send more people?"

Sect Leader Jeok Il-do asked with a hint of anxiety in his eyes, but Jeong-un shook his head.

"It's fine. If anything, increasing the numbers will only arouse suspicion."

It was said that the Jeongmu Sect had already lost more than twenty disciples.

With their total numbers barely reaching several dozen, it meant they had already suffered devastating losses.

It would make no sense to keep deploying more people as guards.

'This is just the right amount to draw them out.'

If too many people suddenly appeared as guards, the bandits might not show up at all.

Jeong-un's plan was clear.

Outwardly, it would seem that only the Heavenly Martial Hall's warriors were staying behind, while he and Baek Il-gang, in uniform, would accompany the guards in order to confront the bandits.

And once they met, they would probe out the location of their mountain stronghold.

'We'll just need to leave one alive.'

Of course, once Jeong-un got the answers he wanted, even that one would be dealt with mercilessly.

These were men who killed and robbed others of their possessions. The only mercy he could offer was to let them die without pain.

And so their small party set out.

If you could call it a caravan, it was really just a single wagon loaded with herbs.

Yet each herb was apparently quite rare and could be sold at a high price in the nearest city.

Naturally, nobody was riding a horse. There was no such luxury. In this era, a fine horse was a symbol of wealth and power.

Most distances were traversed on foot as a matter of course.

The caravan moved slowly and tediously.

With a donkey pulling the wagon and several wagon-drivers in tow, there was no way they could use lightness skill.

All they could do was slowly make their way through the mountain path at the caravan's pace.

"Yaaawn."

Next to him, Baek Il-gang gave a long, drawn-out yawn.

The other disciples and members of the caravan glanced at him sideways, both curious and anxious about his nonchalant manner.

Jeong-un understood their reactions.

They must have heard more than once about how most who journeyed with the caravan in recent days had ended up dead.

This was a road they walked at risk of their lives. It was only natural for everyone to be tense.

Jeong-un asked Baek Il-gang.

"Generally, how skilled are the bandits who have trained martial arts?"

"It varies a lot. Honestly, even if they're part of the Green Forest, I doubt a mountain stronghold out here would have people of such high caliber."

"What about their main headquarters?"

"Well, I've never seen it myself, but I've heard each one is as good as an elite from any big martial sect."

"That skilled?"

"Who knows."

Baek Il-gang shrugged.

"Martial artists have always exaggerated their own prowess. Still, since those guys are well-known throughout the martial world, maybe they really are that strong."

"Hm..."

At that moment, one of the Jeongmu Sect disciples, who had been listening in, cautiously spoke up.

"Um... Will the two of you really be enough?"

"What do you mean?"

Baek Il-gang replied, glancing over, and the disciple flinched.

"......"

Jeong-un looked at him, thinking, he looks more like a farmer than a martial artist.

"It's not that I'm doubting you. You're from the Heavenly Martial Hall after all. It's just... those guys are no ordinary people. There are many of them, and they're said to be extremely brutal..."

"Brutality of hand doesn't mean high skill."

"You're right. Still, the martial artist from our sect who died recently was my big brother. He was one of our strongest, but even he..."

At those words, even Baek Il-gang fell silent. It would be cruel to lecture someone who had lost a close comrade.

"So why did you volunteer?"

Jeong-un asked.

"Pardon?"

"You saw how even stronger people died trying to guard the caravan. Weren't you worried about your own life? Why volunteer?"

There were very few survivors from previous bandit attacks—barely a handful of merchant guild wagon-drivers.

They said when the bandits struck, those who were not fighters fled immediately, and the Jeongmu Sect warriors bought them time.

In other words, every Jeongmu Sect member who had volunteered as a guard had died.

Because of this, sect Leader Jeok Il-do hadn't been able to personally select any disciples for the escort this time.

Even if they were accompanied by the Heavenly Martial Hall's warriors, it must have been painful to send disciples to what was, so far, certain death.

While he was hesitating, a few disciples volunteered on their own. One of them was the young man in front of them now.

"Well, someone had to do it. I was born and raised in this village. I was lucky enough to form a rough dantian in my body. Because of that, I've been able to live and train comfortably with the help of the villagers. But honestly, the only things I've ever done were chase off a handful of thieves... If I just sat back at a time like this, I'd have no face left."

"......"

Jeong-un stared at him in silence.

'If all the martial artists in the Central Plains were like this man, the world would be much more peaceful.'

He found himself thinking that.

At that moment, Baek Il-gang, who had been quietly listening, asked,

"What did the survivors say?"

"Pardon?"

"Did they tell you anything about those guys? Anything noticeable about their martial arts?"

"Oh."

Realizing what he meant, the man quickly spoke.

"A dozen of them suddenly blocked the path and began swinging swords and axes. The armed escorts and our martial artists tried to block them, but none of them could hold out..."

"That's all?"

"Ah... They just said the bandits seemed crazy, as if they reveled in killing. But most of them ran away so fast they couldn't see what really happened."

Looking as if he thought he hadn't helped, he fell silent, looking gloomy.

Then suddenly, as if remembering something, his eyes widened.

"Oh, and they said there was one guy with a bushy beard and a bald head. That one was especially brutal. He played with his victims, pretending to spare them, then killed them."

"'Played with' his victims, huh."

Baek Il-gang muttered quietly.

"......"

Just then, Jeong-un suddenly stopped in his tracks. Since he was at the very front, the entire party naturally halted.

"What the...?"

Baek Il-gang started to speak with a puzzled look, then fell silent and turned his head forward.

He, too, had sensed what Jeong-un was feeling, albeit a step behind.

'They're coming.'

Jeong-un was already spreading his sensitivity keenly around them.

Especially now, after walking for quite some time and nearly crossing the mountain—just the situation that, in the previous attack, had triggered an ambush, so he had been even more on guard.

"Very good, excellent!"

A loud voice rang out from afar, so booming that the mountain birds all took flight at once.

Soon, the attackers revealed themselves.

They looked every bit the stereotypical bandits—if anything, they seemed the very image of the word itself.

One in particular instantly drew the eye, the very man who had shouted.

"So many to kill! This will be great fun!"

He was bald, and his beard was bushy.

'They really did describe him well, even though they were fleeing in panic.'

Despite the chaos, the description matched perfectly. He was built like an iron tower, huge in stature.

In one hand, he held a huge broadsword so battered it was questionable whether it could cut anything at all.

"C-crazy."

"They've really shown up..."

Murmurs of fear rippled through the merchant guild members. Someone even collapsed onto the ground.

"T-that guy..."

The Jeongmu Sect disciple who had spoken to Jeong-un and Baek Il-gang was trembling violently.

It seemed the bald head triggered the same thoughts they'd heard about.

"M-my sword..."

He reached for the sword guard at his waist, but his hand was shaking so badly he couldn't get a proper grip on it.

At that moment, the bandit stepped forward and spoke, clearly the leader among them.

"Now, this time, this elder is feeling generous, so I'll grant you mercy."

"...?"

"I'll spare exactly one of you. The first one to crawl out and bow before me, right now, will be spared."

"...!"

At those words, the merchants around the wagon instinctively looked at one another.

"Remember this—when I give the signal, the first one crawling to me will surely be spared!"

Jeong-un was about to make his move while silently counting the bandits.

But just then, the sound of a sword being drawn rang out, and a burst of vital ki went off.

The swish of a fluttering sleeve followed simultaneously.

Splat!

The bald bandit, enjoying his monologue, bulged his eyes.

From between his open lips, the only sound that escaped was the dying breath from his lungs—he could no longer form words.

His eyes belatedly drifted to his own brow.

"......"

A sword had somehow pierced completely through his forehead. Blood streamed in a line down beside his nose.

Thud.

He toppled over backward.

Next to him, Baek Il-gang spoke.

"One guy to be spared."

"..."

"Grab that one and bring him to me."