Chương 360: Chapter 336. The Battle of Liaoyang 5 — Waiting for an Opening Through Deception

Oyeon Jik moved his hands closer to the fire. Pretending to warm his fingertips, he hunched his body slightly. Then he put strength into his knees and slowly rose. The squad leader watched him while holding his wine cup. Drunkenness had already spread around his eyes, and with a courtesan's hand resting on his shoulder, half his attention had gone soft. His spear stood off to one side. The hand that should have been near his sword hilt was still wrapped around the cup. Oyeon Jik's hand dropped toward his waist.

The motion was small, like a man adjusting the hem of his robe. In the next instant, a short blade flashed in the firelight. It swept across the squad leader's neck. The warm smell of blood burst into the space that had been filled with wine and roasted meat. Blood surged from the severed vessels along the side of his neck. Under the firelight, the spray drew a dark red arc through the air. The squad leader froze with the cup still in his hand.

His lips parted, but before any words came out, only a wet breath escaped from his throat. The cup tilted. Wine spilled. Blood mixed into it. His knees gave way, and his body collapsed sideways. One of the courtesans covered her mouth to swallow a scream. She stumbled backward and fell flat onto the ground. In that brief opening, Oyeon Jik tightened his grip on the bloodied blade and turned toward the other soldiers. The men across from him still had rice cake and meat in their mouths. One held a wine cup.

Another still had a hand inside the food basket. Their eyes moved between the blood pouring from the squad leader's throat and the blade in Oyeon Jik's hand. Faces slackened by drink hardened in an instant. One of them had just begun to blurt out, "What—?" Oyeon Jik threw himself forward and drove the short blade into the chest of the man seated nearest him. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The point punched through cloth and flesh and sank deep between the ribs.

"Ghk—agh!" The man's body bent backward. Oyeon Jik immediately tried to pull the knife free, but the blade seemed caught against bone and would not move. Only the hilt trembled in his hand. It felt as though the dying man's spirit itself had seized the blade and refused to let go. The vibration of death traveling through his palm was chilling. Only then did the three drunken soldiers shout and lurch to their feet. Wine cups overturned. The basket flipped. Rice cakes rolled across the dirt.

Pieces of grilled meat fell beside the fire. The place that had been filled with laughter moments ago became a confusion of blood, ash, and spilled wine. Oyeon Jik abandoned the trapped blade and turned toward the fallen squad leader. The man's hwando was pinned beneath his side. Oyeon Jik reached down, seized the hilt, and pulled hard. At that exact moment, one drunken soldier charged with a shout. A blade came down from above. Oyeon Jik had not yet pulled the hwando completely free. He rolled sideways.

Dirt and ash smeared across his face. The soldier's blade struck the ground where he had been. The man was drunk enough that strength had overtaken balance, and his body pitched forward with the swing. Using the momentum of his roll, Oyeon Jik came up and kicked the staggering man in the face. The tip of his foot struck squarely between cheekbone and nose.

"Gwegh!" The man gave an animal-like cry and fell backward. He covered his face with both hands and curled up like a shrimp. Blood ran between his fingers. Only then did the courtesans scatter in every direction. One kicked over a wine jar as she fled. Another gathered her skirt in both hands and ran into the shadow of the wall. Their screams never fully came out. The desperate need to survive choked them off first. Meanwhile, the two soldiers who had recovered their senses raised their weapons.

One leveled a spear low. The other drew a sword from his waist. Their eyes were still blurred by alcohol, but once weapons entered their hands, killing intent returned. Behind Oyeon Jik was the hidden gate he had to open. In front of him were enemies who were still alive. Facing two men alone was too much. If he killed one, he felt as though he would die there with him. And he had no weapon in his hand. He had nearly gotten himself killed trying to take that bastard's weapon.

Without realizing it, Oyeon Jik began retreating step by step. The two men raised their hwando and followed.

"Who the hell are you, you bastard?" Oyeon Jik bared his teeth.

"Your father." Then he remembered his waist. Ah. He did have a weapon. Oyeon Jik pulled out the small knife bound inside his clothing. It fit so closely against his body that even his own hand seemed to have forgotten it was there. It was merely a short utility blade, the sort used to cut meat or sever cords. He drew it almost leisurely and held it in a reverse grip. It was short. But if he closed in and grappled, he could somehow take one man with him. One. He could kill at least one.

There was no time to hesitate. No time to weigh right from left. The knife was in his right hand, so the man he needed to close on was the one to his left. Oyeon Jik twisted as though moving toward the right. Both men swung their blades. No— the man on the left struck first. Drunkenness had made him put far too much strength into the blow. The blade swept in a wide arc, and his body staggered after it. Oyeon Jik drove into the opening. But the blade did not miss him completely. It sliced across his right shoulder.

The sickening sensation of flesh opening went all the way to the bone. Tears sprang involuntarily to the corners of his eyes. Oyeon Jik clenched his teeth. This was the last chance. He had to finish it here. If he died fighting, so be it. But the gate still had to open. If he could open that gate, then dying here would be enough. He drove into the left man's side and pressed his body tight against him. One arm wrapped around the man's waist. The other reached around his back.

The arm on the wounded side would not obey him properly. The drunken soldier was stronger than Oyeon Jik had expected. Oyeon Jik jerked at him, but instead his own body was pushed backward. There was no strength left. It felt as though he had already spent everything he would ever possess in killing the first two men. Still, he could not let go. Even as he fell sideways, he clung to the man like a drowning ghost dragging someone under with him. The soldier on the right saw the opening and thrust his blade in.

But with his comrade tangled in the way, he could not swing freely. Oyeon Jik twisted the man he was holding around like a shield and fell backward with him.