Cheon Ryu-yeong's expression hardened.
He quickly pressed himself against the side of a wagon, hunched his back, and gritted his teeth.
It was not common for the Green Forest bandits to open with arrows.
Normally, they would charge a fixed toll before allowing a merchant group or escort company to pass. If an escort company refused to pay, they would of course use force.
Even then, however, they seldom used arrows—after all, the goods could be damaged.
Moreover, while they might kill some people, their custom was to take as many captives as possible. Prisoners could be ransomed back for payment.
But now Aso Stronghold had opened with arrows without warning.
Exactly as Cheon Ryu-yeong had feared—they meant to kill them all to make an example for other merchant groups and escort companies.
The youngest porter pressed close to him, lying flat and trembling violently. All around, the twenty or so other porters huddled beside wagons, pale-faced as they dodged arrows.
"Kill them! Kill them all!"
"Hold the line!"
"Guaaah!"
Shouts and screams echoed endlessly through the gorge between the rocky mountains.
Straightening slowly, Cheon Ryu-yeong's eyes swept the area. Bandits poured down from both slopes. He leapt up onto the wagon, scanning front and back.
From far ahead and far behind, flickering torchlight was racing toward them.
They were completely surrounded.
"Looks like there's no way out," he said as he hopped down from the wagon. The youngster at his side looked up.
"Hyung-nim! Keep your head down!"
"It's fine. The arrows are done—now the swordplay begins."
The youngster and three other nearby porters stared at him in disbelief.
Even in a situation where death seemed certain, his voice was calm—astonishingly so.
From the front, the Chief Escort Master's loud voice rang out.
"I am the Chief Escort Master of Jinshan Escort Company! I have words for the master of Aso Stronghold!"
Realizing how dire the situation was, the Chief Escort Master hastily sought out the bandit leader. The reply came back as a mocking laugh.
"Kuahahaha! I have no interest in excuses. Boys! Let these dogs feel the true terror of our stronghold!"
"Uooooh!"
With negotiations rejected, the Chief Escort Master ground his teeth and quickly surveyed the field. Noticing that the torches ahead were far fewer than elsewhere, he barked an order to the escorts.
"Break through the front! We'll smash the encirclement!"
"Yes, sir!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Countless blades crashed together, sending blue sparks into the air.
One torch touched a wagon, and in moments a towering column of flame roared skyward—the cart carrying clothing and cloth. Soon, more wagons caught fire.
Some desperate escorts had devised a ploy: if the bandits turned to save the goods, they might escape pursuit.
The escorts surged forward. The porters moved to follow—but Cheon Ryu-yeong shook his head and shouted,
"The front is surely a trap!"
Some escorts and porters hesitated at his words.
A wave of belated regret struck them—had they heeded him three days ago, this disaster might have been avoided.
But it was too late now, and time was short.
Even now, shouts and screams raged from every direction.
They had to choose—follow the Chief Escort Master forward, or place their hopes in Cheon Ryu-yeong.
One escort shouted urgently,
"Then should we go back?"
Feeling the eyes of some men on him, Cheon Ryu-yeong shook his head.
"The torches behind are surely for show. But even if we broke through, it would take over a day to reach the next village. We'd all be cut down in the pursuit."
"Then what in blazes do you suggest?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong shrugged and gave a wry smile. The fact that he could smile in such a moment was almost beyond belief.
"I'm staying here."
Those few who had hoped he had some plan looked deflated. Most turned away, unwilling to waste more time, and rushed after the others.
The youngster stamped his feet in agitation and grabbed his sleeve.
"Hyung-nim! Shouldn't we go too?"
"If you want to live, don't leave my side."
Something in the low but steady voice calmed the boy's fear.
Most days, Cheon Ryu-yeong looked utterly ordinary—but now his eyes shone brighter than ever.
Was it that gaze? Or that calm voice?
Whatever the reason, ten porters stayed with him. All the escorts had followed the Chief Escort Master—perhaps out of pride. For a warrior to take orders from a porter was no easy thing.
Cheon Ryu-yeong didn't try to stop them. Staying with him offered no guarantee of survival, and they were not the type to obey just because he insisted.
Still, he found himself surprised.
In this crisis, he felt strangely calm—his mind spinning quickly, breaking down the situation, and producing ideas without end.
The opposite of how most people froze in danger.
He spoke to the porters watching him.
"I can't promise the outcome, but I will do everything I can to keep us alive. So—will you trust me and follow?"
All ten nodded at once.
From the front came a sudden wave of screams.
"It's a trap!"
"Aaagh!"
Though the torches in front were few, many bandits had been lying in wait. They sprang up as one, blocking the escorts' path. The warriors were soon attacked from both front and rear, the clash of steel turning savage.
Shouts ripped through the air. Screams rose to the heavens.
Hell had descended upon the earth.
Cheon Ryu-yeong and the porters with him breathed a sigh of relief that they had not gone forward—but their eyes soon trembled violently.
Bandits were closing in from behind and from both flanks, so close they could see the killers' murderous intent—like underworld reapers come to collect their souls.
With no escorts to protect them, should they take up clubs and fight?
They shook their heads. These men made their living by fighting—there was no chance of winning.
Every desperate gaze turned to one man.
Cheon Ryu-yeong.
He pointed at the wagon beside him.
"Do you know why I've been walking next to this cart?"
"...?"
"Because this is where we keep the water we use for drinking and washing."
The youngster urged him on, frustration in his voice.
"Hyung-nim! I don't know what you're getting at, but just say it already!"
"What you're going to do now," Cheon Ryu-yeong said, "is put out the fire on this wagon."
"What?"
The youngest's eyes went wide. Put out a fire—now? When their heads were about to be lopped off?
Cheon Ryu-yeong barked urgently,
"Hurry! Work as quickly as you can to minimize the damage to the goods!"
Even in a situation like this, his voice was as smooth as honey, almost like a spell. And right now, his words felt like the last thread of hope.
The porters sprang into action. They opened the spigot on the massive water barrel atop the cart, filling buckets from the gushing stream and rushing toward the nearest burning wagon.
But Cheon Ryu-yeong shouted,
"Not the nearest—start with the ones carrying valuables!"
"Ah! Got it!"
The porters changed course toward the wagons with more precious cargo.
Cheon Ryu-yeong grabbed a large bowl, filled it with water, and turned to face the bandits who had approached, looking at him in bafflement. He smiled.
"You've worked hard."
"…"
"After a battle, a drink of water is always refreshing, isn't it?"
The lead bandit clicked his tongue in disbelief—then his eyes blazed with anger.
"What trick are you playing at?"
"As you can see, I'm offering a cup of water to the great heroes of the Green Forest."
"Kuhahaha! You've gone mad, unable to bear your fear."
The man leveled the curved ring-pommeled saber in his hand directly at Cheon Ryu-yeong's throat. But Cheon Ryu-yeong's expression didn't change as he replied,
"Ah, you're not thirsty yet. In that case… I'll drink it myself. I get thirsty when I'm a bit tense, you see."
He raised the bowl and drank.
Gulp, gulp.
The sound of him drinking coolly made the saber's owner erupt in anger.
"Insolent cur! What scheme are you hatching before me?"
Even as the man roared, Cheon Ryu-yeong drank at his leisure. The ones startled were the porters putting out fires.
After draining the bowl, he set it down with a refreshed sigh, turned his head, and raised his voice.
"What are you doing, not putting out the fire?"
Once again, his voice was smooth—but somehow it carried the weight of an order that brooked no refusal.
"A-ah… understood."
One of the porters, flustered, answered at once and returned to his work.
Cheon Ryu-yeong looked from the busy porters to the bandit in front of him.
"Wouldn't it be a shame? These are the spoils of victory the great heroes of the Green Forest have just won."
"Heh… I'll grant you have courage. But no matter how much you flatter us, you'll all die in the end."
"You mean to kill all of us unarmed men?"
"Call it bad luck. You'll serve as an example to those who mock us."
"Spare us. You have a reason to let us live, don't you?"
The bandit gave him a baffled look, and the others nearby tilted their heads. Why should they spare these porters?
"A reason to let you live?"
"There are four reasons."
The bandit was struck dumb for a moment. Four reasons—not one? His curiosity was piqued.
"I wish to speak directly to your chieftain."
"…"
"You won't regret it."
"Hmm…"
The bandit pulled back his saber and frowned. Behind him, an elderly man with graying hair stepped forward, his voice like a drawn blade.
"You're an interesting one."
"That's a relief. The people around me always say I'm terribly dull…"
The old man let out a low, intrigued "Heh…" then shook his head.
"Your desperate struggle to live is almost pitiable. But the chieftain has ordered that everyone in this escort party from Jinshan Escort Company be killed."
"Killing us is easy—especially unarmed porters like us. You could do it anytime. You hold the hilts, our necks are on the points. Isn't that so? Then what's there to fear in giving me the brief moment it takes to tell your chieftain my four reasons?"
The old man and the saber-wielding bandit exchanged looks. Their expressions were troubled, but the murderous aura around them had lessened since they first appeared.
Putting out the fires was their responsibility—but seeing the porters laboring so hard to do it was not displeasing.
More than that, they were being drawn in by the young man's words.
The saber-wielder asked,
"Deputy Chief, what should we do?"
The one addressed as Deputy Chief touched his earlobe, glanced toward the front where the battle raged, and replied,
"The fighting up there is nearly over. The chieftain will be here soon. There's no great harm in extending their lives until then."
"Yes—and I'm curious about those four reasons."
"Indeed. Even I want to hear them now."
Nodding, the Deputy Chief fixed his gaze on Cheon Ryu-yeong.
"If your clever talk is nothing but tricks, I'll have you torn apart limb from limb."
Cheon Ryu-yeong grinned.
"Of course."
"Heh!"
The Deputy Chief shook his head slowly.
In his fifty-two years, through countless trials and battles, he had never met a man like this.
"Very well. I'll look forward to it. Even I'm curious whether the chieftain will accept your words. But if your talk is nonsense—"
"I'll be torn apart and die in agony."
"That's right…"
"That won't happen."
The bandits stood watching him intently, while the ten sweating porters kept stealing glances at him as they worked.
Up ahead, the battle faded from their minds—though it was also a sign of their confidence in victory.
Their loyalty to and faith in their chieftain was absolute. There was a reason this stronghold, even on the remote fringes of the continent, was counted among the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds.
At last, the shouts and screams died down. The fires were extinguished—save for the one wagon laden with clothing, which had burned too fiercely.
The porters had tried to put it out, but Cheon Ryu-yeong had stopped them.
"That wagon's already lost. Might as well leave it to light the surroundings—it has a certain charm."
When the youngest glanced at the bandits uneasily, Cheon Ryu-yeong patted his shoulder.
"The wind's chilly—let's warm ourselves over there."
Some of the bandits looked at him with expressions that went past admiration to something like unease.
Then the chieftain of Aso Stronghold emerged from the darkness, drenched in blood.
In his huge hand, he held the severed head of the Chief Escort Master, eyes still bulging in death.
The sight was so chilling that one of the porters fell on his rear, trembling so hard it seemed his life might leave him at any moment.