Had They Pushed the Heavenly Dao Too Far? A Great Terror Emerged Around the Son of Destiny

The ship drifted at sea for three days.

Because they were driving too fast, Park Roejang vomited nine times.

He vomited at the bow, then at the stern, and finally vomited on his own shoes. After he finished, he collapsed on the deck, his face as white as the sails.

Kim Seon-a sat at the very back of the cabin.

There was nothing around her for three feet.

Twenty guards were crammed together at the other end of the cabin, shoulder to shoulder, preferring to squat under the mast in the rain rather than move closer to her.

On the fourth night, the ship approached the coast of Great Yan.

"Your Highness, Dengzhou is just ahead."

Park Roejang, holding onto the gunwale, pointed north.

In the distance, there is a row of lights, high and low, forming a line; this is the city wall of Dengzhou Guard.

"We can't go to the main area."

Park Roejang was panting.

"That Inukami Jusaburo, has run away. He must have had spies in Dengzhou. There are definitely undercover agents watching us. The moment we landed, the news got out."

"Where to go then?"

"There's a barren beach south of the garrison, no one goes there, and at high tide you can push boats into the reeds."

Kim Seon-a looked at the row of lights without saying a word.

After a while, she nodded.

"Go to Nantan."

As the boat approached the barren shore, fog rolled in.

Sea fog spread from the water's surface to the shore, creating a vast expanse of white, obscuring any human figure beyond a few meters.

The guards jumped off the ship, carried the box containing the official documents on their shoulders, and walked ashore in the formation they had arranged before departure.

Five soldiers led the way, five brought up the rear, and ten guarded the boxes in the middle; this was called the central army.

Kim Seon-a walked at the very front of the central army.

The mudflats beneath her feet were all sludge, and the guards made a mess with every step they took, the mud reaching up to their ankles.

She walked over, and there was only a very shallow string of marks on the mud surface.

The white skirt trailed on the mud, yet not a speck of mud touched it.

Park Roejang followed three feet behind her, stumbling along as he muttered to himself.

"The breakwater is just ahead; beyond it lies the garrison territory. Your Highness, please bear with it a little longer..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

A muffled thud came from behind him.

It sounded like someone had their mouth covered.

Park Roejang looked back.

The two guards who were covering the rear were gone.

They were just here a moment ago, one carrying a bundle, the other leaning on a long spear.

Now only a gun lying in the mud remains. The reeds next to the gun barrel swayed twice, then stopped moving.

There was blood beneath the reeds, flowing out along the muddy water.

Park Roejang forced a scream from his throat and turned to run.

But it can't run.

The mud was too deep, and he stepped in. When he pulled out, he was barefoot, his shoes stuck in the mud.

He simply abandoned his shoes and began crawling towards the breakwater using both hands and feet, getting himself covered in mud from head to toe.

A person emerged from the fog.

Seven.

The ninja wore black and red armor, and his face was covered with a cloth, revealing only his eyes.

Each of them held an iron chain, at the end of which was a crescent-shaped iron dart with its edges polished to a gleaming shine.

Seven people simultaneously shook their wrists.

Seven iron darts flew close to the ground, tracing seven arcs in the fog, flanking from both sides and heading straight for the central army.

The first guard carrying the box didn't have time to dodge; the iron dart went around his side, and the chain wrapped around his waist three times.

The ninja pulled back.

The guard was pulled to the ground, the box slipped from his grasp, and the official letter rolled into the mud.

Another iron dart entangled another guard's ankle, dragging him into the fog.

He slashed wildly at the mud with his knife, but he couldn't hit anyone; he only slashed at the mud.

The central army was thrown into chaos.

The ten men were torn into several pieces by the seven chains. Some were dragged down, some were entangled, and some tried to cut the chains with their knives, but they couldn't cut them and were instead cut on the arms by iron darts.

Kim Seon-a moved.

He touched the muddy surface with his toe.

The tap was very light; it only left a small dent, about the size of a fingernail, in the mud, but the person was already off the ground.

Goryeo ancient martial arts, Tae Steps.

Stepping on the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), with each step divided into the Nine Palaces, rising and falling without relying on external force.

She took her first step and rose into the air, then took her second step and veered to the left, then took her third step and returned to the right, stopping at a height of three feet.

The fog was pushed aside by the wind she stirred up, creating a circle.

Four white tigers emerged from behind her.

It was clearer than when I was at the Gyeongbok Hall.

The tiger's body was translucent white, and its four paws trod on the void, slowly circling her once before stopping at the cardinal directions.

The seven ninjas stopped fighting simultaneously.

Someone muttered a Japanese curse under their breath from behind a mask.

A ninja put away the chains, drew a long sword from his back, and leaped up to slash at her.

Another person leaped up from the opposite direction, his knife moving downwards to slash at her calf.

Up and down, left and right.

Kim Seon-a raised her sleeve and waved it.

It was a very casual gesture, like dusting off clothes.

The two knives collided with something unseen three feet away.

First there was a crisp sound, then another.

The two long swords broke in half, each into two pieces, and the four pieces of the swords somersaulted in the air as they fell down.

The two men with knives flew faster than the knives themselves.

They were bounced back.

One of them crashed into a rock on the breakwater, landing on his back first, and blood was gushing from his mouth as he slid down.

Another one fell into the reeds, flattening a large patch of them. It lay there twitching a couple of times before going still.

The remaining five ninjas didn't dare to go up.

Kim Seon-a slowly descended from mid-air, landing on the muddy surface, leaving only a series of shallow footprints.

Pick up the box.

She didn't turn around, but spoke to the guards behind her.

A guard got up, picked up the box containing the imperial documents from the mud, and wiped the mud off.

"Your Highness..."

"Let's head towards the breakwater."

The guards struggled to their feet, helped the wounded, and moved towards the embankment.

Park Roejang had climbed to within ten feet of the embankment. He glanced back and saw the four white tigers in mid-air. His legs went weak, and he collapsed back down.

" Eastern Peak Tiger Spirit Art..."

He kept muttering to himself until his voice became hoarse.

"Good heavens, Her Highness the Princess actually mastered it..."

The five ninjas did not leave.

They retreated to the edge of the fog, lined up in a row, and stood still.

The iron chain in his hand dangled in the mud, and the iron dart was half-buried in the mud.

They are waiting for an opportunity.

Kim Seon-a looked at them.

The protective aura is still there.

Four white tigers circled around her, round and round, without a drop of rain touching her within three feet; mud droplets that fell upon them were bounced off in mid-air.

But the mud beneath her feet was moving.

Something is bubbling up from under the mud.

One, two, three.

The mud bubble burst, releasing a odor.

It smelled fishy and foul, like dead fish rotting in a tank for an entire summer.