Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 127
Blade-like gazes were exchanged between them. The extremely thin man emanated a viciousness. His body was well-built. He was all muscles. His body, built with interwoven blood and muscles, looked like it would clang like metal if you were to hit it with a hammer.
But what was that? He was so small. Black Mamba had no choice but to look down at Sun WooHyun. Sun WooHyun glared upwards at him.
North Korea was rumored to have nothing to eat, and it was true.
If you did not eat while your bones were growing, you couldn’t get tall. He was short. Sun WooHyun only reached the height of his shoulder. He was probably about 163 centimeters.
He was reminded of the time in his childhood when he couldn’t get enough to eat. Out of all the pain and suffering in the world, hunger was the worst. Getting beaten and yelled at was nothing compared to being hungry.
How little had he eaten while growing up that his body turned out half his size!
How bad could it have been to come all the way to Africa to make a living, eat, and shovel dirt here!
Suddenly, he started to feel sorry for the little punk who was emanating all sorts of viciousness.
Black Mamba had been mistaken. He had made an assumption based on prejudice.
Sun WooHyun’s actual age was in his mid-30s. In the 1950s to 60s when Sun WooHyun had been growing up, North Korea’s economy had been better than South Korea’s. His short stature was hereditary, and his rough skin was due to the harsh conditions he lived through in Africa.
The vicious, predatory eyes slightly softened.
The teachings of the military government had kept him alive, thus far.
“Why is that son of a b*tch’s vicious eyes changing weirdly like that?”
Sun WooHyun’s feelings were hurt. Because of his short height, he had been looked down upon wherever he went. Of course, every time, he was able to show them that the smallest peppers are the spiciest.
“Hey, are you a South Korean? Take off that thing that’s covering your face. Let’s see that face of yours.”
“My face? Are you going to tattle on me to the grim reaper once you go to the other side? I’ll grant the wish of a man who will die soon.”
Black Mamba unraveled his ritam.
“Oh! That’s Kanma?” Sun WooHyun’s eyes grew wide.
He was not only, young-looking, he practically looked like an adolescent Korean. Good-looking, too. His physical build and proportion made him look very handsome. Sun WooHyun had pictured him to look like a thug in his 30s. He was shocked to see otherwise.
“How unexpected. Who would have thought that the rumored Kanma would be this young, pretty little thing.”
“Hey communist, I am well aware of my superior genes. Your genes seem to be of high quality too.”
Sun WooHyun was slightly annoyed. He knew his stature was small. Had that guy seen him before to blab on about genes and all that?
“You sure talk a lot for such a young punk. I’ll show you what I’ve got.”
Sun WooHyun unraveled his ritam. A blackened face appeared. On his forehead and cheeks were deep wrinkles. He looked over 40. His skin tone looked like the natives, but he was positive that he was Korean.
Korea, China, and Japan are three Asian countries that looked similar, but there were specific differences between them. Foreigners couldn’t easily differentiate between them, but a Korean with good perception would recognize one of their own in a foreign country.
In the most remote countryside of Chad Sahel, Africa, a North Korean and a South Korean met as enemies. Was this statistically possible? Black Mamba and Sun WooHyun stared at each other from afar. What an incredible coincidence.
“Is this communist a soldier?”
Black Mamba broke his silence. Sun WooHyun looked up at Black Mamba through his slit eyes.
“Communist? How ridiculous. I am a revolutionary warrior. You’re a reactionary South Korean kid, aren’t you?”
Black Mamba’s eyes turned cold.
“Revolutionary warrior? Reactionary? You are a communist. Just because you’re of the same race as me doesn’t mean I’m going to hold hands with you and rejoice.”
Sun WooHyun smiled. After seeing his young face, his tense body slowly relaxed.
“Young comrade, you should come back after you’re done being breastfed.”
“Communist, age, is not what you should be worried about. Be careful of your old bones, instead.”
“Oh ho, this young punk is trying to make a fool out of Namir, it’s hurting my feelings.”
Black Mamba’s lips curled up slightly.
“Namir? You keep calling yourself Namir, are you referring to yourself as a dragon?”
Sun WooHyun flinched.
“I guess I was right. You sure picked a cringe-worthy nickname for yourself. How embarrassing.”
Black Mamba had passed the adolescent stage in his early 20s. However, making fun of the communist amused him.
For a moment, they were silent.
The comment he had said in annoyance after looking at Black Mamba’s powerfully built physique and handsome face, backfired on him.
“I guess all communists, yourself included, can’t act their age? Isn’t that right narochi?”
“What did you call me? Narochi?”
Sun WooHyun’s dark face quickly turned red. The nickname that he had enjoyed for himself was suddenly revealed by the South Korean punk. He was truthfully embarrassed.
“This young punk has no respect. Come at me.”
Sun WooHyun put out his left palm and hid his sword-holding, right hand behind his back. He was half a step forward with his left foot and his back foot slightly bent. It was the stance of an attack.
A smile crossed Black Mamba’s face.
After a few words of conversation, his viciousness and fighting spirit had dissipated. No, he had never intended to kill him in the first place.
Is this the calmness that came with superiority?
Black Mamba looked calmly at Sun WooHyun who was zig-zagging back and forth, closing the distance between them. How quickly he changed his position to get closer, was phenomenal. Since the communist was of the same race as him, his actions didn’t bother him too much.
Pieff and Paul had learned Krav Maga, but they had only seen their stances and positions. Compared to the depth of Ohgeumgong, their skills were like a long-haired impersonator in front of a ghost.
The weapon was no different than an extension of his hands.
Sword skills were 90 percent stabbing techniques. Only unskilled gangsters tried to slice and swing with it. The fact that Black Mamba could chop off heads with a Kukri was a strange sight.
Sun WooHyun, who had been rolled up in a ball, relaxed like a spring. The sword he had hidden behind his back, stabbed at Black Mamba’s navel. The navel was located at the center of the body. It was the slowest moving part of the body. Black Mamba’s stomach slid inwards. His strong abs pulled the skin of his stomach in deeply that it stuck to his back.
The sword which missed the target, caused Sun WooHyun’s shoulders to flinch. The outreaching hand pulled back quickly. Had Black Mamba not turned back 90 degrees in time, the blade would have stabbed his neck in a flash.
“That was close. The hidden sword was a fake weapon, and the real weapon was your empty hands.”
“Quick, punk, you’re proving to be difficult.”
Kanma had avoided the attack without even having to move his feet. Seeing his opponent moving with ease brought Sun WooHyun shame. He was not someone he could compete with. How was it possible for someone to be this powerful in his early 20s!
“I am Namir, master of the sword.”
He forced himself to be courageous. He was already marked for execution, and he didn’t know how long he could hold out anyway. Even if he were to die, it would be better to die battling the all-powerful Kanma than to be killed pathetically like a dog.
His left foot kicked up sand to block his opponent’s vision before he jumped off the ground with his right foot. Sun WooHyun went in to stab his face.
The blade of the sword clashed, and he spat into Kanma’s eyes.
Black Mamba’s neck bent ninety degrees to the back.
That was not a movement possible by human standards. No matter how many times he experienced it, he was always surprised. As his opponent was distracted, Sun WooHyun aimed for his lower body.
“Ack!” A scream escaped Sun WooHyun’s mouth. It was not the leg of a person but that of a hundred-year-old tree stump. He gritted his teeth, and with all his might swung his sword to stab it.
He was like a wall. No attack worked. Even his specialty of knocking his foe off balance did not work. If he tried to attack again, he was sure he would break his leg.
Sun WooHyun couldn’t understand it. A straight stab was an attack used when in close proximity. The opponent’s sword hit the oncoming sword away, but it swung perpendicular to it. That would have been impossible to do if he had not been twice as fast.
Black Mamba gracefully dodged the flamboyant and cheap attacks. Stabbing, slashing, and twisting movements dissipated upon meeting his Ohgeumgong defenses. Even without using his spatial awareness skill, he was able to read his opponent’s every move.
Sun WooHyun’s attacks were similar to Rubnenco, who was a member of eschubiaste. There was no longer any tension.
Sun WooHyun aimed for the eyes. When Black Mamba removed his hands, he blew out the poison dart he had hidden in his mouth. That was his final card. At the same time, to distract him, Sun WooHyun shoved the sword toward his lower stomach.
When the opponent hit the sword away, a smile crept up Sun WooHyun’s face.
The smile quickly turned into a frown.
The palm of Black Mamba’s hand came at him at a comparatively faster speed than he’d seen previously. Instinctively, he bent his neck back to avoid it, but the palm headed toward his shoulders instead.
The right hand hit Sun WooHyun’s clavicle, stomach, and chin. That was the triple hit that had been taught in Ohgeumgong. If he had been hit by the ten hit combo, he would have become a bloody mess.
A shout echoed at the same time.
The shock from that hit made him double over backward. Upon getting hit on the chin, Sun WooHyun spun like a top and collapsed onto the ground. The attack on his chin made his brain rattle and shook his inner ear, causing him to lose balance. It also resulted in fainting. Even the best reconnaissance officer, Sun WooHyun, was no match for Black Mamba.
Black Mamba was one who knew how to maneuver his body easily around the opponents’ movements. His battle skills were on an entirely different level. Sun WooHyun’s battling skills were phenomenal but they were only by human standards.
Black Mamba spat out the poison dart he had held in his mouth.
Anticipating that, he caught the oncoming poison dart right in front of his nose with his teeth. Black Mamba had gone through a lot after Rosce Rubnenco had hit him with a poison dart. If he was to be fooled by the same thing twice, he didn’t deserve the nickname of war’s nightmare.
“Punk, you sure hop around like a grasshopper. Quit being a baby. You’re a communist, but I went easy on you since you’re of the same race as me.”
The fallen Sun WooHyun flinched.
“Whew, just because we’re of the same race…”
Sun WooHyun had sprayed him with sand, spat in his face, bit him with his teeth, and spat out poison darts. He had thrown every cheap shot imaginable. He resisted the urge after contemplating whether he should kill him or not.
The moon was up now. From the east, a soft blue light spread out. After erasing the lives of 60 men in a sea of blood, Hypnosis came to take him away.
Up on the hill, only the remnants of devastated chaos and the smell of blood remained. Black Mamba casually stretched his arms, legs, and back, then leaned on a boulder. When the anxiety rode up the escalator and unraveled at its peak, the exhaustion came to him all at once. He didn’t want to move a muscle.
Targeting someone up close was much more ambitious than targeting someone far away. Blood splattered and pieces of brain gushed out. In an instant, life flitted in and out. Inborn evil boiled over after clashing with the instinct to kill.
When bones broke, muscles ripped, and the soul left the body—it felt like ecstasy. At that moment, you would insanely run around, reveling in the thrill of violence. When the battle was over, a feeling of futility he could not overcome, rushed over him. Somehow, he had become a monster of war.
He hated that the most.
The energy of the deceased stayed in the air. The soul of the deceased traveled around here and there. A powerful energy dug into his mind. Although his body was still bursting with energy, his psychological exhaustion washed over him like a wave.
He searched his pockets for a cigarette. Smoking was the worst habit a sniper could have. The smell of smoke on the body spreads very far. Cigarettes could impact one’s sense of smell too. But still, after every massacre, it was something he longed for desperately.
He inhaled the smoke deeply then blew it out.
The smoke rose like a giant cloud due to his high lung capacity. The Cohiba cigar’s unique scent and bitter taste washed away the smell of blood. It was a scent that reminded him of Chartres. He was getting sick of living in this ambition-filled earth.
He stared at the communist who was splayed out on the ground.
Sun WooHyun had his nose shoved into the rough ground.
The reason he let the communist live was because he, too, was a Korean.
Truthfully, he was glad to see him.
“The communist punks are not human.”
Ever since he was young, he had heard that from his father and his neighbors several times. With strong brainwashing, the communists were practically known as the “monsters-with-horns.” When he had found out that the “monster-with-horns” were based on Japanese lore, he smiled bitterly.
For humans, a closed-off environment and repetitive teaching were a horrible combination. It was not difficult to get brainwashed. You just have to block outside information and propagate repetitive teaching.
Mu Ssang, himself, had spent a large part of his past being brainwashed. It had got to the point where he thought Park JungHee was the only president.
Only after he had become a mercenary was he able to see the relationship between a North Korean and a South Korean through objective eyes. It was the dictators of North Korea and South Korea who had used their powers to block the eyes and ears of their civilians.
“What should I do with this guy?”