Return of the Mount Hua Sect Chapter 1263: I Will Not Send You Alive. (3)

“Waaaaaaah!”

With all his might, Gwak Hwan-So swung his sword.

The sheer force of the movement left the members of the Tiger Ghost Troops in clear bewilderment. Moments later, a fierce, wave-like sword qi surged outwards, engulfing them all simultaneously.

“Aaaah!”

One unfortunate member of the Tiger Ghost Troops cried out, his body gashed across, and retreated. He appeared so feeble it was astonishing to recall he was the same warrior who had effortlessly parried Gwak Hwan-So’s sword earlier.

‘This feeling…!’

Gwak Hwan-So tightened his grip on his sword.

‘This is Mount Hua’s Acting Sect Leader!’

He was entirely different now.

Lee Ja-Yang, pressing the attack from the flank, also wielded his sword as if in a trance. It was likely the same for those following Gwak Hwan-So.

‘No, no!’

In truth, it wasn't quite accurate to say they were following Gwak Hwan-So. The one they were truly pursuing was Baek Cheon!

Gwak Hwan-So bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“Press the attack!”

“Yes!”

Witnessing the Southern Island disciples advancing with such formidable momentum, the Tiger Ghost Troops members clenched their teeth.

“You wretched islanders!”

Fury seemed to spew from their fierce gazes. Yet, this intensity lasted but a fleeting moment.

“Aaaah!”

Before their rage could translate into renewed vigor, a desperate cry echoed from behind them. Their heads snapped around instinctively, only to be confronted by a breathtaking spectacle—sword qi, like red petals, descending upon the area before them.

Despite their fearsome reputation as Tiger Ghost Troops and the notoriously rigorous training of the Ten Thousand People Clan they had endured, maintaining their usual composure became impossible when assailed from both the front and the rear.

And the most significant issue was the nature of the swordsmanship itself.

“Aaaah!”

“D-damn it!”

Had Baek Cheon’s sword strikes from behind been a straightforward display of power, akin to that of other righteous sects, the Tiger Ghost Troops might have suppressed their urgency and focused on the Southern Island attackers first. After all, they could afford to bide their time while their rear was being dealt with.

However, Baek Cheon’s swordplay was anything but conventional strength. That dispersed sword qi was simply impossible to block completely. Even using their comrades as makeshift shields offered no true respite.

Consequently...

“Kraaaah!”

“Ugh! My, my back…”

The petal-like sword qi, sharp and small, repeatedly pierced through the Tiger Ghost Troops' formations and into their flesh. While many wounds were superficial, merely tearing through cloth, the precise locations of impact indicated potential for fatal blood loss.

It was evident that these could easily become mortal injuries, leading to excessive bleeding.

How maddening it was! With sword qi relentlessly raining down from behind, infiltrating every conceivable gap, how could they possibly concentrate solely on the enemies before them?

Thus, even the younger, less experienced warriors, who would ordinarily be outmatched, found themselves overwhelmed. These disciples only had to contend with the Tiger Ghost Troops ahead, while the latter were forced to endure assaults from both the front and the back.

“Damn them!”

The pent-up fury finally erupted. One Tiger Ghost Troops member roared towards his companions behind him.

“Damn it! It’s just one man—why can’t you handle him, you useless brutes!”

“What?”

“At the very least, grab his ankle and hold him! Stop acting like fools trying to save your own insignificant lives!”

“You son of a—!”

The anger that should have been directed at their opponents spilled over onto their own comrades. Caught in the thick of battle, a proper argument was impossible, but under normal circumstances, drawn blades would have been inevitable. These individuals lacked true camaraderie; their unity was merely a consequence of allegiance to power. With their lives hanging in the balance, there was neither reason nor capacity to concern themselves with others.

This fissure in their emotional cohesion was sufficient to instantly shatter the Tiger Ghost Troops’ previously coordinated momentum.

“Oooooooh!”

As their enemies faltered, the Southern Island disciples amplified their momentum and charged forward.

A voice echoed from behind, rallying them.

“Show no mercy to the villains! This is Southern Island!”

The very moment Southern Island Sect Leader Geum Yang-Baek’s resonant voice boomed, the swords of the Southern Island Sect members became even more lethally sharp.

Observing the Southern Island sect advancing like an unstoppable wave, Heo Meng’s face contorted in alarm.

‘Ah, no!’

He knew he had to address this situation immediately.

The Tiger Ghost Troops maintained a nearly linear formation, their backs positioned towards the shore. Should their center be breached, the troops would inevitably be divided.

If such a division occurred, the remaining soldiers would find themselves encircled by a multitude of enemies. Their already depleted numbers would be fractured, and their offensive momentum would completely collapse.

Not even the Tiger Ghost Troops—no, even if their grandfathers were alive and fighting—could withstand such a predicament. The most effective tactic for a larger, weaker force against a smaller, stronger one is encirclement, preventing the stronger side from leveraging their full power. That was the fundamental principle.

Therefore, preventing the center from breaking was paramount. But...

Clang!

“Ugh...”

“He’s looking away, with me standing right here?”

A persistent young man from Mount Hua, whose hair was as rough as his demeanor, refused to let him pass. To make matters worse, a single misstep would mean having his throat impaled by the man’s sword.

The Mount Hua disciple narrowed his gaze, questioning, “Why? You intend to head that way? Ah, I see, that’s a possibility.”

A thick, mocking smirk touched the corners of Jo Gul’s lips. “If you manage to kill me. But do you truly believe that will happen?”

“Stop spouting nonsense and just fight, Gul.”

“Ah, seriously!”

Unable to maintain his stance, Jo Gul contorted his face and, in a swift motion, lunged his sword toward Heo Meng.

Swoooosh!

The blade, reminiscent of skirmishes on islands, curved sharply, narrowly brushing past Heo Meng’s cheek as he evaded. The sting of his skin parting and the warmth of blood clearly ignited his cheek.

A cold bead of sweat traced its way down Heo Meng’s forehead.

‘What in the world are these people?’

Who could still harbor surprise at Mount Hua’s current strength? The assertion that Mount Hua was formidable was already firmly established within the Ten Thousand People Clan. After all, they were the Evil Sect; if those who thrived on the battlefield couldn't accurately assess their adversaries, they wouldn't have endured this long. Yet, the movements of these young disciples defied simple comprehension. Even spread across a vast expanse and unable to exchange a single glance, they operated with such organic synchronicity, as if engaged in a silent, telepathic conversation.

The moment the pale-faced disciple began to guide the disoriented Southern Island forces, the others, as if anticipating this move, started intercepting any reinforcements heading in that direction.

‘How is this possible?’

Strategic maneuvering is distinct from individual prowess. Even a tactician of considerable skill cannot fully implement their plans in the chaos of actual combat. There exists a chasm between theorists devising strategies on maps and individuals immersed in a battlefield where gleaming blades flash. Only those veterans seasoned by countless clashes can truly grasp such nuances—so how could these youngsters exhibit such coordinated action?

“Aha!”

Swoooosh!

At that precise instant, a flying sword found its mark, piercing Heo Meng’s shoulder.

“Ugh!”

Heo Meng was propelled backward with unrestrained force. Blood erupted from the pierced shoulder.

“Daydreaming while I’m right in front of you! You pathetic excuse for an Evil Sect member!”

“Gah, you damn scoundrel…!”

“If you’re displeased, then defeat me!”

Though his words were casual, Jo Gul’s eyes burned with a chilling, intense murderous intent.

Meanwhile, parallel events unfolded elsewhere.

“Oooooooh!”

Kuuuuung!

“Haaaaah!”

Kwaaaaang!

The Tiger Ghost Troops hadn't earned their reputation as the Ten Thousand People Clan’s elite force by chance. They understood the critical need to prevent the Southern Island Sect’s main contingent from breaching their center.

“Waaaaaah!”

But what descended upon those attempting to obstruct them was Hae Yeon’s golden radiance, Namgung Do-Wei’s white sword Qi that struck like cannon fire, and the Tang Pae’s crimson poison powder that blotted out the sky.

“Th-this…”

Regardless of their bravery, who would dare advance while risking the sanctity of Shaolin, the formidable sword Qi of Namgung, and the deadly poisons of the Tang family? It was tantamount to courting death. Faced with such overwhelming opposition, they were rendered helpless, their formation crumbling before their eyes.

As they faltered for a crucial moment, the vanguard of the Southern Island Sect finally tore through the very heart of the Tiger Ghost Troops’ formation!

‘Th-this…’

Heo Meng’s face momentarily turned ashen.

‘Damn that leader!’

The commander, who should have been issuing swift orders in such a critical juncture, had already met his end, his neck severed by Mount Hua’s Sword Saint. Consequently, no one remained to direct the lower-ranking members.

“R-retreat! We’re being encircled. Change formation…”

Swoooosh!

Heo Meng, his words cut short, instinctively twisted his body. Jo Gul’s sword, with practiced precision, slashed across his face once more.

“You keep glancing away, don’t you?”

“You bastard!”

A sense of dread washed over Heo Meng’s features. At this rate, their demise seemed inevitable. If the Southern Island and the Heavenly Friends Alliance were to pivot and encircle them after breaching the center, it would spell their doom…

But at that precise moment.

“Run! Board the ships!”

“Yes!”

Instead of altering their course after penetrating the Tiger Ghost Troops’ center, the forces pressed onward toward the shore. Then, they launched themselves towards the fleet of anchored vessels.

“There will be foes aboard the ships as well! Do not let your guard down—secure them!”

“Yes!”

Under Geum Yang-Baek’s decisive command, the Southern Island disciples accelerated their movements, rapidly boarding and securing the ships.

‘What?’

Heo Meng’s jaw slackened involuntarily.

What exactly were they doing? They weren’t destroying the vessels—they were seizing control of them? So, they had marshaled all their strength and engaged the Tiger Ghost Troops solely to board these ships?

‘For what conceivable reason?’

This was the Southern Island. Ships were as common here as oxcarts on land. What possible justification could there be for such a seemingly irrational act on the Southern Island?

No, more importantly…

‘They had an opportunity to trap them, yet they’re squandering it like this?’

If the primary force managed to get aboard the ships, the Tiger Ghost Troops left stranded on the coast would be granted precious time to regroup. By any standard of logic, this was a decision that could only be characterized as utterly reckless.

“Wh-what exactly are you doing?”

An answer was unlikely to be forthcoming, but the sheer outlandishness of the situation compelled the words to spill out. The young man from Mount Hua he was facing certainly didn’t seem like he was in his right mind.

“Your ships are now in our possession.”

“...Ships?”

“Indeed. Doesn’t that infuriate you?”

“...”

For a brief interval, Heo Meng’s mind went completely blank, rendering him speechless. They weren’t even in a condition to be exchanging words. He couldn’t fathom their obsession with the vessels. However, he did swiftly grasp the reason why an encirclement hadn't occurred.

“They’re here!”

“Huh?”

At the urgent cry of a subordinate, Heo Meng hastily lifted his head. The very woods bordering the shore appeared to be convulsing!

“Comma...”

A cry escaped Heo Meng, a peculiar blend of unexpected relief and burgeoning fear. “Commander! The main force! It’s the main force that has arrived!”

Krrrrrung!

With the sound of splintering timber, as if struck by heavy artillery, a colossal contingent of the Ten Thousand People Clan’s soldiers materialized. Stepping forth from their ranks was the commander himself, Ho Ga-Myung, who cast a frigidly assessing gaze across the shoreline. His eyes then settled upon a particular spot near the water’s edge. More precisely, they fixed on a solitary figure standing there with an air of unhurried leisure.

Ho Ga-Myung slowly spoke, his voice resonating.

“...I had no inkling I would encounter you in a place such as this.”

He continued, his expression unwavering.

“What brings the Sword Saint of Mount Hua to this remote island?”

Chung Myung met Ho Ga-Myung’s steady gaze, then tilted his head slightly.

“Uh… pardon me.”

“Hmm?”

“Who are you, exactly?”

A palpable silence descended for a moment. Ho Ga-Myung’s prominent eyebrows quivered almost imperceptibly.