Secret of the Two Kings (89 CHAPTERS - ON HOLD)

제 9 부

Leveling a glowered stare to the Grand Marshal, the minister gritted his teeth. No way, no way—not a chance. The almanac should be only of the King's. Fighting a physically powerful man, with years of experience killing people in different excellent methods, would be a ludicrous option. So what could someone do to live and escape the seemingly dead-end situation—flight—yes, escape! Spread your wings and fly (gallop?) away. In a split of seconds, Dae Wong lashed his horse and disappeared like a phantom, leaving everyone stunned. Remembering Lady Min's quote about sagacity, the Grand Marshal jumped into his horse and chased the minister.

The two opposing nangdo groups engaged in a sword fight. Clank, clink, clank. Ripostes here, ripostes there. Loud and uproarious. One of Dae Wong's men managed to leave the small battle scene and hurried to their horse, following the two in their chase. Fortunately, the other one had killed Chil Yook's nangdos in just a matter of minutes.

"You do need practice," the nangdo mumbled, grimacing at their lifeless bodies.

The chasing continued into the navel of the forest. Thickets had disappeared and only the tallest trees with their clingy lichens, vines with their thorns and gnarls dangling on the dead, twiggy ground were their unfortunate sedentary spectators. Their heated arguments disturbed the once peaceful environment of the living elements. If only those insects, trees, and animals could talk, surely, the two would get not just a hot scolding, but lashes on their bodies for being disrespectful visitors.

Dae Wong hurtled like a gazelle running from a hungry cheetah, stealing glances from behind, realizing that the persistent Grand Marshal was already a few feet behind. His head spinning, his palms stiffening, his horse galloping with no direction whatsoever. Merciful Heavens, is there anything he can't do? Why do you have to bestow all necessary life skills to an evil dog?

He was not a master equestrian, for most of his life, he had ridden only the grandest palanquins, but he had to let go of his cowardly and unmanly imaginations. He concentrated and focused on one single goal: bring the almanac back to the King and report Jung Ho's tyranny.

From behind, he heard Chil Yook roared—his six feet below the ground voice resounding. "Give me the almanac!" He ducked from a long stretch of a reclining branch.

"No! You have to drain my blood first!" Dae Wong hissed, jumping over a decaying log.

"Sure! Now we do this the hard way." The Grand Marshal whipped the stallion harder, the whinnies and the clip-clops outgrowing.

Both horses galloped intensely with different purposes. One was to catch, while the other one was to escape. In this little game, there should be a winner. Of course, they could not keep chasing each other for eternity. Feeling the rush of adrenaline on his veins, Chil Yook knew that he was surely on the winning side, for he successfully kept up only a few inches away from the minister. The tail of the preceding horse had never been as lush as ever.

That was it! He unclamped his left foot from the stirrup, and carefully, he mounted his leg on the horse's back. His butt was projected like a torpedo, finding the proper momentum. When he was about to lift the other foot, preparing for a big jump, a racing, blurry, unknown thing passed a few inches from his right cheek, the wind force nipping his skin. Everything happened so quickly that Chil Yook, who was shocked, almost lost his balance. His groins dropped badly on the saddles as he luckily pulled the whip. The muscular stallion flipped upwards. Another ear-breaking whinny. One thing led to another, only to find out that it was an arrow, for it shot Dae Wong near his lumbar. The poor man dropped to the ground like a wilted leaf. His head almost smacked into a big, mossy rock.

Chil Yook jumped off (not to strangle Dae Wong as what he had planned), confused where the arrow came from. When he looked back, he saw the culprit. It was the yellow nangdo, who had chased them. His face was pale while sitting motionless on the horse, teeth clattering.