HDCLSSRS Ch 127

Chapter 127 The Third Prince (3)

“Kang Dojang, stay here with the Pavilion Master.”

“Are you certain you’ll be alright alone?”

“No one seems to be watching this side right now. I’ll be fine.”

Clink!

Seong Muyeon secured the ring of keys he had seized from the Pavilion Master of Yangha. The poor man had fainted the instant Muyeon reached for him, paralyzed by his own dark imaginings.

Muyeon slipped warily into the prison. Luckily, it was empty—save for Bang Gyeom, who was rattling the bars madly.

“Seventh Prince! They took the Sixth! Please, release me! We must pursue at once! Sixth Prince! Sixth Prince!”

“Hold still a moment, will you?!”

Bang Gyeom’s frenzy made it near impossible to jab the key into the lock.

When the gate finally swung open, the prisoner tried to bolt, but Muyeon caught him by the arm.

“Not so fast. Your meridian seals must be undone first.”

The Zhuge Clan, wary of him, had restricted his inner force. With pinpoint strikes of qi, Muyeon tapped the critical points and freed the seal.

“Calm yourself—outside the main Ghostslayer force is waiting. If you rush headlong you’ll only die first, and then who will save him? Besides, you have no sword.”

“Y-yes… I understand. I’ll calm myself. I’ll find a sword.”

“Here. Use this.”

Muyeon passed him the blade he had borrowed from the Pavilion Master—unknowing still of his loss.

“Thank you.”

“And my Third Brother is here as well.”

“T-the Third Prince…?”

Even the name drained the color from Bang Gyeom’s face. He had been hunted mercilessly by the man before; fear was branded into his bones. Yet soon after, he gritted his teeth, resolved, and stood tall.

“I will rescue the Sixth Prince! …Will you come with me?”

“We don’t know where they’ve gone. But—I saw it. They’ve moved outside.”

“T-then I beg you, lead me.”

Muyeon took the lead. Though Bang Gyeom had skill respectable for his age, Muyeon trusted him little—prepared to intervene if things turned dire.

Best they not… but if it comes to it…

Even those few bursts of inner power, used to unseal him, left Muyeon’s illness stirring already. The difference, after months of relative good health, was stark.

“Let’s go!”

They cut through the chaos, blades flashing, and after many narrow scrapes finally burst out beyond the manor walls.

Pausing, Muyeon cast one glance behind. Neither Baek Ryeoil nor Seong Muguk was visible, but the blazing flashes of sword-light above proved their duel raged still.

“There.”

On the moonlit hill beyond, they spotted it: half a dozen Ghostslayers shoving Seong Mujai into a waiting carriage.

“Seventh Prince—can you manage this?” Bang Gyeom asked nervously. Muyeon clenched a blade he had plucked from some fallen hand on the way.

“I’ll manage. Fine piece of steel, whoever it once belonged to.”

“That is not what I mean…”

Bang Gyeom worried if Muyeon could truly fight.

“Can you alone handle five Ghostslayers?”

“Of course not.”

“Then don’t drag me down. Do your part.”

Muyeon strode forward from the bushes.

“Who goes there!”

The Ghostslayers whirled, blades raised. But when his face appeared, they lowered them reluctantly.

“Return, Seventh Prince.”

“Give me Seong Mujai. Do so, and I’ll let you leave in peace.”

“You leave us no choice then but to use force. Please—return now.”

“What is he to you? What plan does Third Brother weave?”

“…We cannot say.”

“I didn’t expect you would.”

With a kick of the ground he attacked.

They tensed to meet him—but curiously, not one drew a sword. Plainly, they thought the “useless Seventh” no match for them barehanded.

They misjudged.

Muyeon slipped deftly past a clutching hand, striking with sharp precision. Startled, they reeled—then fury twisted their jaws as they realized.

“Bastard—!”

From behind Muyeon, Bang Gyeom slashed, his strikes imbued with qi. He had used Muyeon as a screen, waiting to ambush, knowing they hesitated to strike the Seventh Prince. His strikes landed heavy.

Muyeon pressed as well, not merely shield but scythe, cutting with killing intent. Together they drove the Ghostslayers back.

“Trying to run? Come here!” Muyeon taunted, his blade unmarked still—every time a slash angled for his body, they balked, yanking steel aside in horror of harming him.

Invincible. Untouchable. With their fear, he was a god of war. They staggered backward at last, forced far from the carriage.

Muguk had underestimated him—his Ghostslayers reduced to this by their orders.

Yet no matter their edge, they had not killed them. Left alive, only driven back. The instant gap was given, the foe would return. To claim Mujai, they must destroy them utterly—cripple or kill. With their strength, it was nearly impossible.

So it must be done…

Tears burned behind his eyes at the thought of wasting Yakseon’s precious medicine. But survival demanded it.

Then—

A sword shrieked from the night, slamming into the earth between them, inches from his chin. Muyeon and Bang Gyeom spun, frozen.

Hhh—!

So close he felt death’s breath—had the strike aimed true, his head would be gone.

“Ghhhk!”

Bang Gyeom flew, booted across the courtyard like trash, smashing into a stone wall.

And then Muyeon’s throat closed.

Myeong-Gwi…!

Appearing from nowhere, the scarred captain seized him by the neck, lifting him effortlessly. His eyes shone like silver in moonlight—but within them, abyssal dark and empty.

The stench of blood oozed from him, clinging like a second skin. His face was ruin, torn and scarred, a map of brutal nights survived.

There was no anger—yet no mercy either. His grip pressed, unerringly pinching the artery. Ten seconds, no more, before blackness fell. His fingers loosened Muyeon’s grip; the blade slipped from his hand.

“Myeong-Gwi.”

That voice—calm, unnatural. The air itself shifted.

“Release him.”

At once, the hand unclenched. Muyeon’s feet struck earth.

Across the trampled grass Seong Muguk walked, immaculate—immaculate, despite battle. His robes untouched, not a thread astray. Moonlight gilded him like a pristine god.

Muyeon’s chest went cold. He was fighting Ryeoil. And yet like this… untouched?

It could only mean one thing—he held the upper hand.

Anxiously his eyes swept below to the Zhuge estate, hungry for sight of Ryeoil. Too far. No figure stood.

Muguk’s steps crunched softly over the withered grass, eyes upon the carriage where Mujai was bound.

“Leave our Sixth Brother.”

“I did not realize you cherished him so, Muyeon.”

“What will you do with him? You know—his dantian is destroyed. He is worthless now.”

“Of course I know. To me, he held little worth even before. Shattered or not.”

“Then why take him?”

“That is between myself and the Sixth. Not your concern.”

Muyeon dared not move. Myeong-Gwi loomed within arms’ reach, gaze upon him as a hawk. He so much as trembled, the sword-master would answer instantly.

What can I do?

Even with Yakseon’s elixir, there was no hope. To fell two titans and save Mujai? Impossible.

Then, a familiar figure surged into view.

“Seong Muyeon!”

Baek Ryeoil.

“How tiresome.” Muguk clicked his tongue.

“Myeong-Gwi.”

Unexpectedly, the captain struck Muyeon himself—an inner force blast hurled him back.

A vision: churning below, river waters foamed like steel. That was the last sight Muyeon saw before his body struck air and fell.

Footnotes:

1. Myeong-Gwi (명귀, 明鬼) – “Bright Ghost,” Muguk’s scarred, terrifying Ghostslayer captain, feared for his merciless bearing.