Chapter 812: Stick Out Your Neck, You Bastard! (2)

 

It was an overwhelming sight.

From dozens of cauldrons larger than a person, boiling oil poured down all at once, creating an effect like a waterfall. But this was no cool cascade of water—it was boiling oil that would sear flesh and blind anyone it touched.

A rough voice erupted from Heo Do-jin’s mouth.

"Shield them! Protect the disciples!"

Everyone sprang into action.

Following Heo Do-jin’s lead, the Wudang elders who had been climbing alongside him launched themselves upward in an attempt to block the boiling oil from reaching the disciples. Ahead of them, the elders of Shaolin also soared into the air.

They could immediately sense the massive casualties that would ensue if that oil were to rain down directly onto the disciples.

“Haahhh!”

The first to act was Shaolin’s power.

Golden energy surged over the cliff. Dozens of blasts of powerful energy repelled the falling oil, scattering it in all directions.

Sizzle!

The large globs of oil collided with the Shaolin energy, bursting apart and splattering in every direction.

“Grr!”

They could break it apart, they could redirect it—but completely stopping oil and water was nearly impossible.

The scattered oil droplets now fell as a fine, rain-like mist.

“Don’t let up! Break it apart! Keep pushing it outwards!”

Beopgye’s shouted command was filled with urgency, veins bulging along his neck as he exerted his strength. Another wave of golden energy erupted from the Shaolin elders.

It was an incredible display, yet even such immense power couldn’t shield against every drop of oil raining down.

The ones who moved to block the oil droplets that slipped past Shaolin’s shield were none other than the Wudang elders.

“Spread out!”

At Heo Do-jin’s command, the elders thrust their swords repeatedly into the air. In seconds, dozens, then hundreds, of sword shadows overlapped, forming a thick wall.

A barrier of blades.

The Wudang elders created a sword barrier, covering the disciples of both Shaolin and Wudang like a protective roof.

Drip-drip-drip!

With the sound of a torrential downpour, the oil droplets struck the sword barrier, scattering off its surface.

It was a scene akin to people blocking rain with an umbrella—a testament to the supreme mastery of the Shaolin and Wudang sects.

“Impressive.”

Jang Il-so’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

“As expected of Shaolin and Wudang, I see.”

A satisfied smile appeared on his face.

“But… how long can they keep it up?”

With a snap of his fingers, the now-empty cauldrons were pulled away, replaced by fresh ones.

“Pour it.”

Once again, the enormous cauldrons tilted, and a fresh wave of boiling oil gushed forth.

Heo Do-jin’s eyes twisted with despair.

‘How many times…?’

If they poured it all at once, it would be over in an instant. But as long as they kept pouring it intermittently, they would exhaust the defenders’ energy reserves.

No matter how strong the Shaolin elders were, they couldn’t keep projecting such power indefinitely. And no matter how skilled the Wudang elders, they couldn’t maintain the sword barrier at this level for long.

Feeling his energy rapidly draining, Heo Do-jin gritted his teeth.

‘What kind of warfare is this?’

They hadn’t even clashed once with Ten Thousand Houses or the enemies occupying the cliff.

Were they not martial artists?

Were they not warriors skilled in martial arts?

But here in this battle among warriors, their enemies were using explosives to detonate the cliff and pouring boiling oil onto those climbing it?

This was nothing like the war they had imagined.

“Pour again!”

At Jang Il-so’s order, the cauldrons continued to tilt in sequence.

Sizzle!

The oil splashed against the sword barrier repeatedly. Riding the wind, it blew onto the backs of the Wudang disciples climbing the cliff.

“Ahhh!”

“Mo Bo! Are you alright?”

“Guh… My back…”

White steam rose from the backs of those hit by the oil, and the sickening smell of burning flesh filled the air. Those watching felt chills run down their spines.

Hanging from the cliff, there was no way to administer even basic first aid.

“Damn it!”

The Wudang disciples, gritting their teeth, struggled up the cliff. Dragging it out only worsened their situation.

Then it happened.

“Tut-tut. So impatient.”

Jang Il-so clicked his tongue in an exaggerated expression of pity and then laughed. Waving a pale hand, he issued another command.

“When people are terrified, they fail to notice even the most obvious things. That’s why experience matters.”

At that moment…

A sharp, eerie sound pierced the air, causing Heo Do-jin to look down in surprise.

‘What in the…?’

Heo Do-jin’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what he was seeing.

“No, it can’t be!”

Although Black Dragon Stronghold had suffered heavy losses from the falling rocks, not all of their men had perished.

The surviving Black Dragon remnants had lined up below, aiming their bows at the cliff.

Thwap-thwap-thwap!

As the taut bowstrings were released, dozens of dark arrows shot upward toward the cliff.

“Arrows incoming!”

“Block them!”

The Wudang disciples frantically swung their swords to fend off the arrows, while the Shaolin monks projected energy to repel them.

But clinging to the cliff made it impossible to deflect all the arrows.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“Ugh!”

One of the Shaolin monks, struck in the back by an arrow, began to fall.

“Kak So!”

Those beside him quickly reached out to grab the falling monk, only to get arrows lodged in their arms for their effort.

Crunch!

“Grr!”

A monk’s face twisted in agony as an arrow drove deep into his arm, piercing down to the bone as he clung to his comrade.

“Damn it, where’s Cheongseong…!”

Heo Do-jin gritted his teeth.

If Cheongseong had climbed up first, the other sects should have cleared out the remaining enemies below. That was only logical.

But could they really demand it of them? Everyone knew the cliff’s base was a death trap. If they had tried to fight Black Dragon Stronghold down below, they could have been buried under a collapsing cliff.

So, Cheongseong had no choice but to ascend the cliff as well.

Risking one’s life to save others was no easy feat.

The reason martial virtue was revered was because so few practiced it. It was something to be admired when done, but not to be condemned when it wasn’t.

‘Jang Il-so!’

Besides, where did all these bows and arrows even come from?

It was obvious—Jang Il-so had envisioned this entire scenario from the start.

To make matters worse, oil that hadn’t been fully blocked began flowing down the cliff. Though it had cooled enough not to burn upon contact, the steep cliff face had now become a treacherous, slippery slope.

Arrows continued to fly from behind, carrying lethal intent.

With the need to repel arrows, prevent the cliff from collapsing, and defuse the explosives, this was nothing short of hell.

The explosives set to detonate the cliff.

The boiling oil raining down from above.

The arrows fired from below.

Each on its own might not have been much. But used together, in the most fitting way possible, they formed an inescapable trap—a hellish snare.

“Jang Il-sooooo!”

Heo Do-jin’s scream echoed across the cliff.

“Oh dear.”

Jang Il-so chuckled, wiping away a tear of laughter as he looked down at Heo Do-jin.

“Goodness, for the leader of Wudang to act so undignified! A sect leader should carry some weight.”

“Well, I’d be cursing nonstop if I were in that situation too,” said Cheon Myeon-soo-sa, admiring the scene.

In warfare, position is half the battle.

Securing a favorable position and using it effectively is critical. The kind of strategies that alter history or defy expectations are used in smaller skirmishes. True warfare relies on executing what’s known with perfection.

And here was a textbook example of that.

Who in the world would have thought that arrows, oil, and explosives could so utterly overwhelm Shaolin and Wudang?

And in this horrifying scheme, even Cheon Myeon-soo-sa, the Magnate, and Black Dragon were nothing more than pawns.

At least here, Jang Il-so, the Overlord, seemed to hold the world in his hands, twisting it as he pleased.

‘And yet it’s amazing that I don’t mind it.’

The Sapae Alliance’s leaders despised being manipulated. Both the Magnate and Black Dragon likely knew they were playing into Jang Il-so’s scheme.

Yet there was no hostility or displeasure on their faces.

‘Perhaps… Sapae Alliance won’t just be empty words.’

At this moment, Jang Il-so was proving his worth as the true leader of the Sapae Alliance.

And there was only one person who had slipped out of Jang Il-so’s grasp.

“Hey! You damn monk!”

Crash!

Chung Myung sliced through three more fuse lines in one swift motion and shouted.

“Are you planning to hurry it up down there? Or do you have a grudge against Shaolin?”

“Amitabha!”

As if in response, a wave of energy from Hye Yeon crashed down on the Black Dragon remnants firing arrows, scattering them like leaves.

“Hye Yeon!”

Beopgye’s shout rang out.

Everyone else was climbing to ensure their own survival, yet Hye Yeon remained firmly at the base of the cliff.

Beopgye’s pained eyes took in Hye Yeon’s calm expression.

“Amitabha. Ascend, Elder. I will take care of…”

“If you’ve got time to talk, then fight, you damn monk!”

“Oh, this… Amitabha, Amitabha!”

Hye Yeon, startled, furrowed his brow but immediately rushed at the Black Dragon soldiers, clearing them like fallen leaves.

‘Good!’

Heo Do-jin’s eyes gleamed.

Of course, there were too many enemies below for one person to handle alone.

But distracting them was enough. The arrows flying toward the cliff had noticeably lessened.

‘Just a bit more…’

“Oh, for crying out loud! Are you just going to stand there and gawk?”

Clinging to the cliff, Chung Myung shouted fiercely.

“Leave the disciples and just get up here already! Shaolin, Wudang, Namgung! Damn freeloaders!”

“Damn brat!”

The first to respond was none other than Namgung Hwang.

“Alright! I’m coming!”

He kicked off the cliff, ascending in one leap. Passing by the Wudang disciples, Namgung Hwang soared past Heo Do-jin, climbing the cliff like a dragon ascending to the heavens.

“Grr!”

Heo Do-jin gritted his teeth.

Chung Myung was right. Staying down here would only drain their strength until they died. They had to seize the top of the cliff, even if it meant suffering some losses.

“Those who can follow me, come! Let’s go!”

“Yes!”

Several of the elders retrieved their sword barriers and joined behind Heo Do-jin.

“Haaaa!”

Heo Do-jin let out an uncharacteristic battle cry and propelled himself upward. Higher and higher, he soared.

“You should have done that sooner, you damn fools!”

Swoosh!

Chung Myung raced up the cliff, his gaze locked on the Sapae Alliance and Jang Il-so.

“Stick out your neck, you bastard!”

Chung Myung’s booming voice echoed over the cliff and up into the sky.