HDCLSSRS Ch 159

Chapter 159 Choice (9)

Master!

Kang Ung sprinted toward the quarters where Baek Ryeoil was meditating, jostling past panicked bodies as chaos spread across the manor. When the small courtyard came into view, he finally exhaled in relief — the senior disciples were still standing firm at the entrance, guarding it with swords drawn.

Thank goodness.

But before he could approach, his eyes caught a familiar, gaudily dressed man barking orders nearby.

“If Seong Muyeon’s already taken the Spirit Seal, then what are you waiting for?! Move! Find it now!”

The Pavilion Lord — his jeweled robes flashing, his greed plain on his face — stomped the ground in frustration, scolding his men.

Kang Ung felt bile rise in his throat. Even half-healed from the injuries he’d sustained at the warehouse, the man was already back to chasing treasures. Was there truly nothing human left in him?

He shook his head and started to move past him — but the Pavilion Lord’s eyes suddenly locked on him.

“You! You were Seong Muyeon’s bodyguard, weren’t you?”

In two strides, the man was on him, grabbing his arm.

“So, you’re a disciple of Mount Hua, are you? You deceived me deliberately, didn’t you?”

He ran his gaze up and down Kang Ung’s attire, then snapped furiously, “Answer me!”

“Release me, now!”

“You know where Seong Muyeon’s being kept, don’t you? Lead the way!”

“Why should I?”

“How dare you glare at your elders like that? Insolent brat! Kids these days—tsk!”

Clicking his tongue, the Pavilion Lord’s expression suddenly shifted, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

“Or perhaps… you have the Spirit Seal?”

“What nonsense is this!”

The man reached for his pockets. Kang Ung twisted away, shoving his hand aside.

“Stop squirming! What are you hiding, huh? The more you resist, the guiltier you look!”

“If you don’t let go right now, I’ll use force.”

Kang Ung’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. Instantly, the Pavilion Lord’s men surrounded him — but the man raised a hand to stop them, smirking.

“Ha! Such spirit! Do you think I can’t handle a little pup like you, even half-injured as I am?”

“What’s going on here?!”

Jang Hansu arrived, his face darkening as he saw Kang Ung being restrained. He stormed forward and roughly pulled the Pavilion Lord’s hand away.

“That boy is a disciple of Mount Hua. Why are you harassing my junior?”

The Pavilion Lord stumbled back, caught by his lackeys. The commotion drew the attention of the guards at the entrance; Mount Hua disciples turned their sharp gazes toward the intruders.

“Oh-ho. So that’s where Seong Muyeon’s staying, is it?”

The Pavilion Lord grinned. Even the cold glares of the Mount Hua swordsmen didn’t shake him.

“Stand back,” one of the guards warned. “If you take another step, we’ll treat it as an act of aggression against Mount Hua. This is your final warning.”

Jang Hansu could feel it — the madness gleaming in the man’s eyes. His hand moved instinctively to his sword hilt.

“Arrogant bastards,” the Pavilion Lord spat. “You really think the Central Plains belongs to you, don’t you? Men—attack!”

His followers surged forward, drawing their weapons. The clash was inevitable.

Kang Ung and the others froze for an instant, caught between disbelief and disgust. These were supposed to be martial artists — yet they were acting like bandits.

“You brought this upon yourselves,” Jang Hansu said coldly, drawing his sword. His fellow disciples followed suit, steel glinting under the torchlight.

“Do not blame us for being merciless.”

The Pavilion Lord’s men had numbers, but not skill. Most were second-rate at best — and now, faced with the resolute stance of Mount Hua’s swordsmen, hesitation flickered in their ranks.

Then—

A man, who had been silently blending into the crowd, stepped forward.

Kang Ung’s breath caught when he saw him. The lower half of the man’s face was hidden beneath a hood, a long scar cutting across the bridge of his nose.

“…Myung-gwi!”

The name burst from Kang Ung’s lips. It was Myung-gwi, the scarred commander of the Ghost-Slayer Unit.

“You… you’ve allied with the Demon Sect?!” he shouted at the Pavilion Lord.

“What are you talking about?! I’ve got nothing to do with—Ugh!”

Before he could finish, Myung-gwi struck. The blow wasn’t even from his blade — he’d used the sheath, sweeping the Pavilion Lord and his men off their feet as though swatting flies.

They crashed to the ground, groaning. Myung-gwi’s cold eyes turned toward the Mount Hua disciples.

“That’s him,” Jang Hansu muttered. “The one Master mentioned… which means—”

He didn’t need to finish. Kang Ung’s gaze darted past Myung-gwi’s shoulder, where figures cloaked in black emerged from the shadows — the rest of the Ghost-Slayer Unit.

“…Not again,” Kang Ung breathed.

“Hey! Watch it, you almost hit me too!”

One of the Pavilion Lord’s men scrambled up, cursing. Myung-gwi didn’t even look at him. That only provoked more shouting.

The scene was absurd — even the Mount Hua disciples hesitated, confused by the chaos.

Then, a short, stocky young man pushed to his feet, brushing dust from his sleeves with a grin that dripped arrogance.

“What’s this? Already scared? Ha! Kneel before my power!”

“…Who are you?”

The youth’s face twisted. “You don’t know me? Seriously?”

“Some street dog who’s lost his leash,” Jang Hansu muttered.

The man leapt in outrage. “You call yourselves Mount Hua disciples and don’t know me?! I’m the Poison Freak!”

“…Poison Freak?”

“Yes! I’m the one who let your next Sect Leader taste my venom!”

As he mumbled to himself — how is that old man still alive, anyway — realization dawned across the Mount Hua ranks.

“You’re the bastard who poisoned our Master,” Jang Hansu growled. “You’ve got guts showing your face here. Today’s the day you die.”

“Ah, finally! Recognition! It’s about time. Back then I had to flee, sure — but thankfully, the Third Prince recognized my talent. He made me his right hand! He even promised that I could personally kill that sword-wielding freak — the so-called Sword of Tranquility! Ah, such generosity!”

“That will never happen.”

“Eek—!”

As Jang Hansu stepped forward, muscles tensing, the Poison Freak squealed and darted behind Myung-gwi’s back.

“Myung-gwi! Take care of them! And remember — bring the Sword of Tranquility to me alive!”

“…”

Myung-gwi’s expression suggested he’d rather strike him instead, but without a word, he kicked off the ground — charging straight at Jang Hansu.

“Kh!”

Their swords collided with a violent clang.

“Careful!” the Poison Freak shrieked. “Their weapons are coated with my Soul-Piercing Venom! Even a scratch, and you’ll end up like that Sword of Tranquility fool!”

He cackled from behind his soldiers while the Ghost-Slayer Unit launched a coordinated assault.

“Do not let the poison touch you!” Jang Hansu shouted.

The disciples rushed to help, but their hesitation was clear. To fight enemies whose weapons carried fatal poison required courage — and precision.

They were quickly pushed to the brink.

Kang Ung joined the fray, guarding his seniors’ flanks, sweat trickling down his back as he parried desperately. Every swing of an enemy’s blade could be his death.

“Die! Die!”

The Poison Freak’s laughter rang out as he flung poisoned darts into the melee, forcing the Mount Hua disciples to scatter.

“Damn it!”

Every mistake here meant death. Jang Hansu’s focus was razor-sharp, but tension tightened his movements. Even a few allied martial artists who’d joined the fight were already collapsing, victims of the unseen toxins.

Grinding his teeth, he glared at Myung-gwi.

You snake…

Just as the rumors said — the man fought not through brute force but with ruthless cunning, striking and retreating, waiting for the smallest opening.

But the thought of his Master — still away with Seong Muyeon — and Baek Ryeoil, still defenseless in meditation, steeled his resolve.

Then —

Clang!

Myung-gwi suddenly changed tactics, meeting him head-on. He must have sensed Jang Hansu’s momentary distraction.

The shift in rhythm cost him dearly. A slash grazed his cheek — and his counterattacks began to slow.

I can’t hold on like this.

The poison kept him on edge, forcing him to fight conservatively. He could neither retreat nor advance effectively.

And then, the inevitable moment came — an attack he couldn’t avoid. The enemy’s blade descended fast, the trajectory clear, but too quick to block.

If that’s how it is… I’ll trade flesh for victory!

Jang Hansu’s eyes blazed. If he fell here, the disciples’ morale would collapse.

He stepped in deliberately, taking the blow in order to strike.

If I’m going down, I’ll take him with me!

At that instant—

A brilliant light flashed with a sharp whistle through the air. Blood sprayed. Myung-gwi’s attack faltered, thrown off-balance.

Jang Hansu didn’t waste the opening — his blade tore through Myung-gwi’s side, crimson splattering across the stone.

“…”

For the first time, Myung-gwi — who until now had moved with mechanical precision — froze.

“Master!”

Kang Ung’s voice rang out, triumphant and breathless, cutting through the roar of battle.