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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Chosen Ones (1)
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The morning sun was scorching hot.
The sun had only just risen, yet it was already so sweltering that they had to strip off their upper garments. One could only imagine how unbearable it would get at midday.
"Gonna be bathing in sweat again today."
"Midday's so bad you can barely breathe. Ugh! And the mosquitoes here... Those damn bugs bite like hell—one nip and your skin swells up huge."
"Heh! Isn't it about time you got used to it?"
"Used to this?"
Four men bantered back and forth over breakfast.
They were all stark naked. Not just shirtless—they'd stripped off their pants too, completely bare. One of them at least had on some underwear, but the other three didn't even bother with that.
Even naked as the day they were born, they ate without batting an eye at each other's exposure.
"Warden, sir, since it came up—could you leave me out this fall? You've gotta cut me some slack by now."
"How long you been here?"
"Ten years, packed tight."
"Ten years? Yeah, you're about due."
"Due? At this rate, I'll never get married and end up a bachelor ghost, I swear."
"Kid! If that's a bachelor ghost, I became one ages ago. Hell if I know why I ended up saddled with this thing—lost all meaning long back."
The man called the Warden grabbed his crotch mid-bite.
At that instant!
All four men stopped joking dead. Their eyes sharpened like hawks, flashing with murderous intent.
"Who's the bastard... Damn, it's hot enough already."
One grumbled.
"What're you waiting for? Gear up."
The Warden barked gruffly. But he himself didn't budge, just kept eating.
The naked men swiftly donned their martial uniforms with crisp precision. Their auras shifted dramatically—naked, they'd looked like common bandits, but suited up, they carried the dignified bearing of any clan's disciples.
The four stood calmly, eyes fixed on the narrow mountain path.
Three horses soon appeared along the trail.
Clop! Clop!
The horses ambled slowly down the path, in no rush.
"Three of 'em?"
"Three? Don't need to look. It's Vanguard, right? That guy's always killing off One-Four-Six. And they never last more than half a year."
"Spot on. Vanguard it is. Three again. Couldn't time it better if they tried."
"Still, rumors say he gets the job done clean. Spookily efficient."
"Has to, with three dropping every half year."
As they whispered, the three riders drew near. Close enough now to make out the figures on horseback with the naked eye.
Sure enough, it was Vanguard's crew.
Two men and a woman.
A middle-aged man in his forties, a bit short but solidly built.
His face seemed mild, like a country farmer. But that rock-hard frame deterred any troublemakers.
The woman was past twenty but not yet thirty.
Slim figure, a touch irritable vibe. First glance, she seems prickly—hard to meet her eyes. Second, something draws you in. Third, you realize she's got real charm.
Her eyes were ringed in heavy black, like bruises. Or a panda—wipe that off, and she'd be quite the beauty.
The last man was toweringly tall, unmistakable even from afar. Not quite seven feet... maybe six-four or so.
Lean build made him seem even taller.
A bit over thirty, probably... his unsmiling face radiated a wintry glare.
No one would want to chat with him, either.
Like the woman, his face was painted—blue streak straight from forehead to nose bridge.
Vanguard's group: Vanguard, Three, and Five.
The two men and one woman exchanged clasped-fist salutes with the four men. Greetings done, Vanguard jumped right in at the Warden.
"Here for One-Four-Six."
"Your call on picking 'em, so we'll hand 'em over... but honestly, could you stop killing off One-Four-Six? You're wiping out the stock."
"That's why this time I'm picking tougher ones. The kind that won't drop easy."
"You said that last time."
"Heh! Did I?"
"Anyway, manpower's your prerogative. Pick well."
The Warden handed over three ledgers.
"Any fresh meat?"
Vanguard asked, taking them.
"Five newbies, but trash. Four of 'em are Three-Five anyway. So please, spare One-Four-Six this once."
"Heh! Got it. I'll look sharp. Which room's ours?"
"Not your first rodeo. That one."
The Warden pointed to a rundown shack, isolated some twenty paces off.
Volume One: Deception. Volume Four: Murder. Volume Six: Strength.
Vanguard pored over Volume Four from start to finish, ten-odd times.
Flipping pages, reading cover to cover. Closes the last. Stands, paces the room, hand on chin, deep in thought.
Sits again, reopens Volume Four.
Reads it through. Closes it. Stands. Paces again.
"God, why're you thrashing around like a hooked fish? It's distracting!"
The woman snapped.
"Me?"
Vanguard shot her an incredulous look.
"Just sit still and pick already. You're flailing like a lunatic—how am I supposed to focus?"
"Hah!"
Vanguard huffed in disbelief when the tall man spoke up.
"Told you, grab anyone. No point agonizing over ones that'll break anyway."
"That so. They all break, huh..."
"Only one way to not kill One-Four-Six."
"What's that?"
To Vanguard's question, the tall man pointed skyward.
"What's that mean?"
"Suck up to the top. Flatter 'em right, and they'll toss you light work. No rolling in shit. Only way to keep One-Four-Six alive."
"Who doesn't know that? Problem is, once you're on their shitlist, flattery gets you the worst jobs anyway!"
Vanguard joked as the woman slammed her ledger shut.
"They're all the same anyway, and they'll all crack eventually... I'm taking the first one, no question."
"Who's first?"
"Dunno."
"What! You—"
"These ledgers? Warden sorted 'em. Traits are all cookie-cutter. No point nitpicking—half a year, they're gone."
She shrugged.
Hers was Volume One. First pick: One.
"Hah! Haha! Luck, eh? Not deliberation—luck. One from Volume One. Guess I'll take Four from Volume Four? Feeling lucky today."
"Betting on luck?"
The tall man asked.
"Thinking about it. Not a bad idea."
"Then..."
He closed his ledger.
He'd been scanning Volume Six.
Woman took One from One, Vanguard Four from Four. So him, Six from Six?
But he said something unexpected.
"If it's luck... I'll take Fatty."
"Fatty? Who's F—whoa, that Fatty?"
Vanguard goggled, pointing outside.
"Hell of a pick. One-Four who knows, but you nailed Six."
The woman grinned at Vanguard.
"Vanguard, what the hell!"
The Warden scowled, displeased.
"Hand over Fatty."
"Touching my boy?"
"Your boy... Dangerous words."
"Ah! Sorry."
The Warden apologized for his slip at once.
Both Warden and Vanguard served under the Heavenly Commander. One word from him, and Vanguard could be Warden, or vice versa.
Even the Warden couldn't use his guards freely.
Deploying guards, taking them in... all personnel moves needed the Commander's approval.
Vanguard had come with approval.
He could requisition anyone he wanted. Guards included—no choice but to comply. Still, the Warden chafed at losing men from his turf.
Then Fatty, who'd been silent till now, piped up.
"Warden, sir, sorry—but let me go."
"What!"
"I want to."
"You idiot! I know this is hell! But where you're headed? Straight to hell's road. You'll be dead in six months, you fool!"
"Staying here or running Six—it's all for the organization, right? Let me run Six."
Fatty said carefully.
Fatty? He wasn't fat. Just a nickname. He matched the tall man in height. Surpassed Vanguard in solidity. Body a mass of muscle... a hulking powerhouse, a strength specialist.
No mere guard.
None of these guards were "mere." Each had fought at least twenty battles—elite fighters all.
"You fool!"
The Warden glared fiercely.
No precedent for guards going into the rivers and lakes.
Nor any reassigned within ten years of posting.
"You really wanna die?!"
The Warden asked gravely.
"He's alive—how could I die? Don't worry, send me."
Fatty pointed at the tall man who'd come with Vanguard.
"You two know each other?"
The Warden's eyes widened.
Not just him—Vanguard stared at the tall man in shock too.
'They know each other?'
The tall man dodged Vanguard's gaze—on purpose or not?
They knew each other, no doubt.
Fatty answered the Warden.
"We crossed paths briefly at the Martial Camp."
The Warden glanced at the tall man.
The Heavenly Annihilation Division under the Heavenly Commander had two types.
Those chosen by the Commander himself, granted martial arts. Vanguard and Warden were that sort. So were the guards under Warden—all handpicked warriors by the Commander.
The other: prisoners selected by those chosen ones.
Mostly under Vanguard—picked for dirty work, then discarded. That was the intent from the start, so no blame for high casualties like One-Four-Six.
But was the tall man Division staff? Directly chosen by the Commander? Why work under Vanguard then? He could hold Vanguard's spot easy.
The Warden spoke.
"Fine. Die if you want. Vanguard, see you in six months. One-Four, sure—but ask for Six, and I'll take your head. Got it?"
Vanguard nodded.
"Thank y—"
Fatty bowed, but the Warden cut in, like he couldn't stand the sight.
"Picks done?"
"First one."
"First? Fox of Bireung Mountain?"
'Fox of Bireung Mountain?'
'First is the Fox of Bireung Mountain?'
Only then did Vanguard's group learn the first prisoner in Volume One was the Fox of Bireung Mountain.
He'd been there six months ago, a year ago, two years. Passed over by Vanguard's eyes, the woman's too.
Volume One's trait: Deception.
Cunning villains, sly foxes, silver-tongued cheats, con artists...
Honestly, all in Volume One were middling—no standouts, no duds. Uniformly the sort that shouldn't see daylight.
The Fox of Bireung Mountain didn't stand out among them.
Learning One-Oh-One, first in Volume One, was the Fox, the woman who'd picked him soured instantly.
'Bad pick. Some mountain bandit fox. Should've looked before leaping. Damn!'
Oblivious or not, the Warden said flatly.
"That punk had some coin stashed before coming here... Squeeze him dry before he croaks, if you can. Won't cough it up easy."
"Like you, sir, I got no place to spend money anyway."
"People these days... Chasing jokes like they're gospel. So Four—who?"
"The fourth."
"Wh-what?!"
The Warden shot to his feet in shock.
"Four... Four Thousand Four!"
"Four Thousand Four! My god—that murderer!"
Not just the Warden. All the guards gaped. Even Fatty, soon off to the Nineteen Hells with Vanguard, yelped in astonishment, eyes bulging.
Warden and guards froze stiff.
Vanguard's group was the surprised one now.
Vanguard, the tall man, and the woman—all suddenly curious about the fourth in Volume Four.
Who the hell was he, to shock them this much!