At Dokgo Seol's worried question, Cheon Ryu yeong replied calmly.
"Yes. My head is perfectly fine."
By then, they had all emerged outside the outer fortress. The Tang warriors followed, forming lines to the left and right.
Namgung Su, unable to contain his anxiety, called out beside the white horse:
"Commander, why aren't you giving orders on how to fight? The Black Wolves are in wedge formation—they'll be aiming straight for you!"
Jo Jeonhu swallowed hard and added:
"Commander, at least stay to the rear…"
Before he could finish, Cheon Ryu yeong tapped his horse's flank.
Clop, clop-clop!
In an instant, the white horse surged forward ten paces, taking the lead. His escorts rushed to keep pace, alarmed.
Dokgo Seol, pale-faced, cried out:
"What are you doing? They're coming for you, Commander!"
Cheon Ryu yeong only smiled.
"Do you remember? Last time we fought the Black Wolves, what the Black Wolf Master shouted?"
"What?"
Dokgo Seol's face went blank. In fact, all seven escorts stared at Cheon Ryu yeong in bewilderment. Had that head injury really left lasting damage?
Cheon Ryu yeong's expression grew faintly excited as he gazed at the Black Wolves.
"It was… very impressive."
"What did the Black Wolf Master say?"
"You'll know soon enough. In any case, if we clash to the death here, we'll all be in danger. That must be avoided."
Namgung Su edged closer to the white horse, whispering nervously while glancing at the Tang warriors spread in formation behind them.
"Commander! That Black Wolf Master seems to have guessed the Formless Deadly Poison is fake."
"Yes. That's why he burns with such fighting spirit."
"And you know this, yet speak so lightly? Commander, your plan must change!"
But Cheon Ryu yeong shook his head firmly.
"No. We go ahead exactly as planned."
Namgung Su's face twisted with exasperation, bordering on anger.
"Commander! That's madness! Don't tell me you mean to just charge blindly forward…"
"First, we drive back the Black Wolves. Only then can the plan continue."
Namgung Su looked as stunned as Dokgo Seol now.
"H-how?"
"With words."
"..."
The escorts were struck dumb. Finally, Hwa Gayun ventured timidly:
"But the Black Wolf Master doesn't seem like the type to talk."
"He will."
Cheon Ryu yeong's gaze fell on Tang Hyemi among the seven.
"Lady Tang."
She fidgeted nervously but answered:
"Yes, Commander."
"Go tell the Tang warriors the truth."
"…What?"
"The Black Wolf Master has already guessed it. If the enemy knows, so must we all."
"But… that will crush morale."
"They'll find out soon anyway. At the grand training ground, every Tang disciple was covered in true powder. Before long, they'll notice the dust on their hair and clothes hasn't changed color."
Tang Hyemi blinked as if she'd forgotten, then nodded.
"You're right. In all the chaos, I didn't even think of that."
"Lady Tang, see that no unrest spreads. In fact, it must not happen."
"..."
Cheon Ryu yeong gave her a gentle smile—the same warm smile he'd shown her upon waking from unconsciousness after the carriage accident.
"The Tang Clan will be safe."
"..."
"Please trust me."
Tang Hyemi found herself smiling back, forgetting for a moment the peril around them. She nodded vigorously.
"Yes. I trust you, Commander."
"Huff… huff…!"
Fifth Squad member Pung Mang of the Heavenly Demon Cult's White Wolf Division was drenched in sweat, his body bloodied. He had burned through nearly all his inner strength on lightfoot techniques just to reach Sojun Mountain's mid-slope.
"Lucky… I was lucky."
He muttered as he searched desperately for a hiding place to meditate and circulate his qi. The mechanical formations around the Tang Clan's outer fortress had been terrifying.
Countless comrades ahead of him had fallen to poisoned darts raining from stone towers. One man's foot was trapped when the ground sank beneath him—his ankle sheared clean off.
And that wasn't the worst of it.
In the bamboo forest, blades rained from every side, flames erupted from hidden pits, and disciples of the Four Emperors Palace fell into illusions, slashing madly at allies until their swords pierced each other's chests.
Yet worse still were his comrades themselves.
Anyone who blocked another's path was cut down without hesitation. More warriors had died to friendly blades than to the traps.
Escaping that hell alive to reach this point truly was luck.
But Pung Mang was still on edge.
A quarter-hour had already passed. The poison's delayed onset might strike at any moment.
"Ah!"
He spotted a large boulder beneath a pine tree. Beneath it lay a shadowed hollow, a promising hiding place.
Leaping down, he froze.
There lay a Red Wolf soldier and a monk, eyes open, dead.
"Did they die late, from the poison?"
There were several possibilities. Both could have succumbed to the Formless Poison. Or one might have killed the other for the spot, only to die moments later himself.
Ever since the leaders had abandoned them at the grand training ground, slashing their own men to escape, the thought of "comradeship" had vanished. That these two corpses might have turned their blades on each other seemed natural.
Pung Mang shoved the bodies aside with his foot and sat cross-legged in the hollow, beginning to regulate his breath.
Shhhk!
His eyes flew wide. A burning pain pierced his chest. A blue-tinged blade was buried in his heart.
As his vision dimmed, a middle-aged man appeared before him.
Pung Mang's lips parted, spilling dark blood.
"Wh… who are you…"
"You're the third. Seems I picked too high a perch, not much game up here. My squad leader will scold me at this rate."
Pung Mang toppled sideways. The man who struck him was a White Tiger warrior.
Most of the White Tiger Unit were veterans over forty, hardened wanderers. For them, slipping unseen into ambush while panic-stricken enemies rushed past was child's play.
He shook the blood from his blade and slipped back into the shadows of the rock's hollow.
All across Sojun Mountain, the Heavenly Demon Cult, Four Emperors Palace, and Sound Sect elites died in vain.
At the mountain's peak stood Nangwang Bang Yacheol, Mo Yong-rin, and Pyeong U jong, with about twenty others.
They had only recently arrived, part of the forces dispatched from Qingcheng Sect.
The two hundred who had fled Qingcheng Mountain split into groups of twenty, scattering to avoid being wiped out if pursued by the Heavenly Wolves.
This group was led by Monk Cheong-u Yulsa.
They had reached the summit just as Cheon Ryu yeong appeared at the Tang Clan's grand training ground. From there, they had witnessed everything Mo Yong-rin and Pyeong U jong had before them.
They were astonished by the antidote of Immortal Elixirs, aghast at the Martial Scholar's stratagem, and both thrilled and sorrowful as the demonic and Black Heaven forces collapsed in an instant.
Tears welled as they thought—if only they had heeded his counsel, if only he had come to Qingcheng himself.
Meanwhile, Hero Nangwang Bang Yacheol seemed indifferent to his men's success in the mountain. His focus was fixed solely on the white-horse rider before the Tang fortress—believed to be Cheon Ryu yeong.
Pyeong U jong asked him:
"Hero Nangwang, shouldn't we head down soon to lend a hand?"
That had been the plan. Bang Yacheol was supposed to circle the slopes, hunting stragglers his men missed.
But as if he'd forgotten that plan, he kept his gaze on the battlefield below and murmured:
"Military strategist."
At that, Mo Yong-rin's eyes gleamed as he nodded.
"Yes, White Tiger Chief, I believe you're thinking the same as I am."
"Hmm…"
Bang Yacheol let out a low hum. Pyeong U jong, puzzled, asked:
"What is it?"
Cheong-u Yulsa also stepped closer, peering down the mountain with curiosity.
Mo Yong-rin glanced at Pyeong U jong, then pointed toward the troops below.
"That unit… they have no intention of fleeing."
Pyeong U jong's eyes widened.
"What? But didn't the leadership just retreat? That makes no sense…"
He trailed off, realizing Mo Yong-rin was right. The hundred men below were forming into wedge formation.
That meant they were preparing to charge.
Cheong-u Yulsa's eyes gleamed.
"Perhaps they were abandoned by the leaders? Left to fight and buy time."
Pyeong U jong nodded, agreeing with the reasoning. But Mo Yong-rin, her voice cool and sharp, countered:
"No, that's not it. They've chosen to fight on their own."
Bang Yacheol's eyes twitched.
"Why do you say that, Strategist? What you're implying… is that they've seen through the truth of the Formless Deadly Poison. But if that were the case, wouldn't the leadership have had no reason to flee?"
Pyeong U jong tilted his head, agreeing.
"Yes, I thought so as well. It seemed more like the leaders sacrificed them so they themselves could escape."
Mo Yong-rin furrowed her brow.
"No. Bringing them along would've made more sense. With losses already so heavy, discarding a hundred men would be foolish. If the Tang warriors pursued, they could've acted as rearguard while retreating. Abandoning them only wastes strength. Especially after such a crushing defeat—once they return to Sichuan, every man will be precious."
"..."
"Second—look at their formation. A tight wedge. If they truly feared poison, they'd spread out in a loose array, widening their ranks to avoid exposure."
Pyeong U jong nodded at her logic, and she continued:
"Third—they're facing the wind. That's defiance. They're saying they don't care if the poison is released or not. Which means they've seen through the ruse. Only the leadership refused to accept it."
The watchers at the summit all swallowed hard, awed. Almost as one, they thought: As expected of Bingbong!
Pyeong U jong asked nervously:
"Then, by Bingbong's reasoning… that unit's commander must be someone formidable."
Mo Yong-rin paused, then answered.
"The Spear of the Battlefield—the Black Wolf Master. The unit must be the Black Wolves."
"Why do you think so?"
"In a battle they should've been certain to win, they were denied the chance to earn glory. That means they've fallen out of favor with the leadership. If not for that, they'd have retreated with them. Yet their commander stubbornly insisted on staying. Only the Black Wolf Master comes to mind. All the others are close confidants the leaders brought personally."
"..."
"And—every time, the same formation. The wedge."
Mo Yong-rin brushed back her bangs, eyes shining.
"Besides, the Black Wolf Master is as loyal to the Demonic Sect as the Heavenly Demon Sword himself, and he cares for his men. Even if his opinion was ignored, he'd stay behind—to protect his comrades who ran into the mountain. He doesn't know the White Tigers are lying in wait here."
Bang Yacheol smiled faintly.
"An enemy… but one I can respect."
"You won't be smiling once you hear the last reason."
He looked at her in surprise. Mo Yong-rin gave a wry smile.
"He's already faced the Martial Scholar once. He knows exactly how dangerous he is. That's why he longs to eliminate him—because he knows he's a threat to the Demonic Sect. So he stayed, willingly. He knows if the Martial Scholar moves, the Sword Pavilion warriors will too, and they could appear at any time… yet he still stayed, just to catch him."
Bang Yacheol's face hardened.
"Then we must go down and save him, mustn't we?"
"If he needed help, the Martial Scholar would've sent a signal. But he hasn't. That means he believes killing the enemies here is the priority. I agree. If we release the White Tigers now, it will descend into chaos, and things will only worsen."
Pyeong U jong interjected, troubled.
"But won't the Martial Scholar and the Tang warriors be in danger?"
"They will. And that's why I'm torn. I can't fathom what the Martial Scholar is thinking right now."
Pyeong U jong frowned at the battlefield.
"Then… what is he thinking?"
Mo Yong-rin sighed and shook her head.
"I don't know. There's one possibility, but it's far too—"
Her words died in her throat. Her eyes widened.
The man on the white horse—the Martial Scholar—was riding forward with only a handful of escorts.
"N-no… it can't be…"
She trembled. Bang Yacheol, alarmed, demanded:
"Why is the Martial Scholar advancing toward the enemy?"
Mo Yong-rin answered in a daze.
"The method I was just about to say."
"What method?"
"To protect the Tang Clan from the Black Wolves, who've seen the truth."
"Strategist! Tell me!"
Mo Yong-rin tore her gaze from the battlefield to meet his.
"He intends… to make himself the hostage."
"...!"
"One man's life, to spare hundreds. The Black Wolf Master will know his worth, and he'll accept."
"Impossible!"
Bang Yacheol's eyes blazed as he started down the slope. But Mo Yong-rin grabbed his arm.
"It's too late."
"Let go, Strategist!"
"If you go now, everything will collapse. The Martial Scholar, the Tang Clan… But if we wait only one quarter-hour, most of the enemy in this mountain will be wiped out. Then we can descend, join the Tang warriors, and pursue the Black Wolves."
He shook her arm violently.
"I will go save him now!"
"I said it's too late! You'll save no one, only doom us all."
"Even so…"
Pyeong U jong cut in urgently.
"Hero Nangwang!"
Bang Yacheol ignored him, stepping forward—until Pyeong U jong spoke again.
"Shouldn't we trust the Martial Scholar?"
"...!"
Bang Yacheol froze.
Pyeong U jong stepped closer, smiling faintly.
"I haven't even met him in person, yet already I've marveled at him many times. Perhaps that's why—I want to trust him. He's the man the Heavenly Demon Sword acknowledged, the man you yourself acknowledged."
"..."
"Even if we went down now, it's too late. So isn't it better to trust him, and focus on what we must do here? A rash choice might ruin what he's trying to accomplish."
Bang Yacheol turned his head, staring at him.
"Ha-wol…"
"He's astounded us again and again with his judgment. Why not expect it once more?"
Pyeong U jong looked to Mo Yong-rin.
"What do you think, Bingbong?"
She gave a wry shrug.
"I agree. I want to believe my fears are unfounded… and that he has another way. Yes—I believe he does."