Chapter 593

Chapter 593 – Rescuing the Lazy (3)

*”Is there a hell worse than this?”*

Deoksam’s (德三) eyes frantically scanned the path behind him.

He couldn’t feel his legs. He knew something was hanging from his waist, but no matter how hard he tried to move them, they wouldn’t respond. Only the weight of his feet hitting the ground confirmed that he was still running.

*”Damn bastards.”*

Baekgeom Fortress.

There was a time when he admired the swordsmen of Baekgeom Fortress. They were different from the other orthodox factions he had known.

Unlike conventional sword schools that sought righteousness and honor, Baekgeom Fortress pursued only power.

And at that moment, that seemed admirable to him.

When you live as a beggar, you learn one thing: arguing about justice without power is useless. Justice can only be defined by those who have strength.

Although he knew this better than anyone, compared to the hypocritical factions that repeated *”we value justice above power”*, the honesty of Baekgeom Fortress seemed refreshing to him.

In this life, he didn’t have the opportunity to join them, but if he had to choose again, he wouldn’t hesitate to wear the white of their swordsmen.

He probably wasn’t the only one who thought that way.

*”How stupid I was.”*

Deoksam turned his head desperately.

Now, those same white swordsmen were chasing him.

With cold, calculating looks. Their swords were precise and efficient. Even the blade that pierced a companion’s back had a macabre beauty.

That’s why this was hell.

Only now did Deoksam understand. The factions that had protected the world didn’t repeat that speech about *”justice before power”* out of hypocrisy.

That phrase was a promise: no matter what, they would defend what was important. When they had to choose between power and justice, they wouldn’t hesitate.

Didn’t Baekgeom Fortress demonstrate where power without principles led?

Strength wasn’t measured in crudeness, but in direction. What was the point of admiring the edge of a sword that could turn against you?

*”Glup…”*

Deoksam stretched out his arm and grabbed Jonggu (宗九), who was stumbling.

*”Idiot! If you fall, you’re dead!”*

*”I-it’s wrong… Let me go.”*

*”Let you go my ass! Stop talking nonsense!”*

Jonggu had reached his limit. The blood from his shoulder had soaked his clothes, drying into a grotesque black. It was logical that he would collapse after running without tending to his wounds.

*”Damn it!”*

Insults poured out uncontrollably.

Deoksam pulled him hard, carrying his weight on his shoulders. Although his arms were trembling, he wouldn’t release his grip.

*”I can’t let go.”*

He knew it.

Carrying a wounded man would slow them down. They would be caught. If he wanted to live, the logical thing to do was abandon him.

*If he wanted to live.*

But hadn’t he already seen where pursuing only results and power led? Those absurd principles, those ideals that once seemed ridiculous to him, were the only things that had kept them standing.

So he couldn’t let go.

He wouldn’t abandon a companion.

Even if it meant dying, Deoksam wouldn’t let go of that hand.

*”Kkukkkuk.”*

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

Deoksam never considered himself righteous. And now, he was doing what not even the most righteous would do.

That’s how people were. That’s how life was.

*”I told you to let me go!”*

*”I’m not going to act in your sentimental drama.”*

Deoksam squeezed harder.

*”If we die, we die.”*

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to live. But not at any cost. If he abandoned Jonggu now, he would spend the rest of his life trying to forget this moment.

*”I can’t do that.”*

A beggar values tranquility.

In the dead of winter, the beggar with peace of mind sleeps with his legs stretched out, while the restless one trembles until he freezes.

He wouldn’t survive becoming one of *them*.

*”Damn them.”*

How many companions had they already lost.

They were being hunted like animals. Like hunting dogs.

And they knew it, but they couldn’t do anything. Just run.

*”How did we get to this?”*

Defeat.

A devastating defeat.

They had lost too much.

Forces, leaders. Even if they escaped, they might not be able to counterattack.

Was it worth running?

Wasn’t it just delaying the inevitable?

*”Just kill me already, you bastards!”*

*”Don’t worry. We will.”*

*”Eh!”*

A chill ran down his spine.

At the same time, all his strength abandoned him.

*”Shit.”*

Deoksam understood instantly. He tried to stay on his feet, but it was useless. The ground rose before him.

He crashed into it as if against a wall.

*Paf!*

The sound of the impact echoed.

*”Ughhh…”*

Among the dust, his hand clutched a dry leaf.

*”You run well, rats.”*

Something brushed his head.

They wouldn’t abandon the pursuit. Since they already had him, they would go for the others.

*”But… am I still alive?”*

*”Tch.”*

A presence approached.

*”One left.”*

Jonggu was panting beside him. Deoksam, who was watching him in silence, tensed his arm.

He was trembling, but he managed to push himself up. The pain in his back was burning, but he wouldn’t die like this.

*”It’s just one.”*

Maybe he could beat him. And if not, at least he wouldn’t die lying down like an animal. If death was inevitable, he would face it standing.

*”Ugh!”*

He forced himself to get up, grabbing his club.

He turned around.

A spasm shook him.

As expected, there was only one left. But that didn’t make things any better.

*”Only fighting will tell.”* It was a common saying, but sometimes the result was obvious. And this was one of those cases.

The swordsman’s eyes were like those of a snake.

A sharp gaze, with no trace of distraction, watched him.

*”…Shit.”*

Yes.

He once admired that image.

The white swordsmen.

The group that defied the centuries-old order in the martial world.

Young people crave change, novelty. But sometimes, that longing makes them reckless. Like Deoksam.

*”Pah!”*

He spat on the ground, frowning.

*”Do you think you can take me on alone?”*

Each word burned his back, but he wouldn’t show weakness. Not just out of pride. For the last vestige of his dignity as a martial artist.

*Don’t show weakness.*

*That way, when the opportunity comes…*

*”Enough bravado. You ran well. You fled well. I congratulate you.”*

*”…Lies.”*

*”But that’s all. It’s just a matter of who dies first.”*

*Shiiing.*

The sound of the sword being drawn.

*”Is this how I’m going to die?”*

He thought about stalling for time, but his enemy didn’t seem interested in talking. What good would it do? No one would come to save them.

There were no reinforcements.

The great factions of Sichuan and Shaanxi couldn’t move, occupied with containing the Demon Cult. Those who should protect the center were fleeing with them.

Gathering forces would take time. There would be no rescue.

They couldn’t win by force. There was no help.

Only two options:

Accept death calmly, or wait for a miracle.

*”Pah!”*

He spat blood, showing his red-stained teeth.

*”A beggar doesn’t have miracles.”*

The lucky ones never end up on the street. Waiting for luck was like waiting for food to fall from the sky.

Only one option remained.

*”Come, bastard. I may not win, but I’ll tear off your arm.”*

The swordsman smiled.

He advanced slowly. His sword, in a medium guard, didn’t waver. Deoksam felt the edge at his throat before he even began.

He glanced at Jonggu.

*”Did I do the right thing?”*

He didn’t know.

He just followed his heart. Wasn’t that enough?

*”I’ll show you how a beggar from the Beggar Sect dies…”*

He stopped himself.

Lack of strength?

No.

The swordsman had stopped.

*”Eh…?”*

Something was wrong.

His combat aura vanished. The pressure that froze Deoksam’s blood disappeared. Now he seemed… stunned.

*”Eh? Eh?”*

*”What…?”*

Curiosity burned him. But turning around was dangerous. If he attacked, he would die without resistance.

But Deoksam could never resist curiosity. And the swordsman’s reaction was too strange. His face was filling with… terror?

In the end, he turned around.

And his mouth fell open.

*”Eh? Eh? EHHH?”*

With the same stupid expression as his enemy, Deoksam couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

What was that?

*”That…?”*

White meteors.

Several white streaks were approaching them.

Meteors on land? Was he dreaming?

*”AAAAAH!”*

*”AAAAAH!”*

The “meteors” hit the ground, rolling to their feet. Only then did he understand: they weren’t meteors.

They were *people*.

The swordsmen of Baekgeom Fortress who had passed him minutes before, were flying back… for some reason.

Foam was coming out of their mouths.

As Deoksam processed the scene, a familiar (and exasperating) voice sounded behind him:

*”WHAT THE HELL?! WHO THE FUCK STARTS STABBING WITHOUT WARNING?! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!”*

It seemed he already had…

But that didn’t matter.

Probably.