Novel Name : Mercenary Black Mamba

Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 570

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Chapter 570 Chapter 52 Episode 6 Choi Do-shik
“I can just go and get hold of a gander for myself. I’ll be right back, so why don’t you relax in the meantime?” Mu Ssang headed to the exit while he was uttering these words.
Bak Gi-Chung felt like his heart was about to explode violently out of his mouth. The six hundred million Won and a luxury watch were supposed to be Chuseok bribes (Korean thanksgiving). The cash meant to serve as the deal sweeteners, rake-offs, and ‘commission’ fees obviously didn’t have any names on them, but that wasn’t the case for the watch; the name of the recipient had been engraved on the watch’s underside already.
It’d be terrible, controversial news if the heavy-hitting politicians, civil servants, and judicial officers with connections get exposed for all dirty hidden misdeeds and crimes. But the secret facility of the barracks getting exposed was far worse, much more wretched, than that. The only way to fix this crisis now was to kill this intruder retard and grind down his corpse to turn the bones into animal feed.
‘Aigooo! You stupid Jap brothers of ours, hurry up, will ya?!’ Bak Gi-chung desperately prayed for the Japanese ‘inspectors’ to notice the commotion on the second floor. This was the disadvantage of having too good of soundproofing performed upon your office. The costly soundproofing done to prevent the debtors’ shrieking from escaping from the premises came back to bite them back in the asses now
Mu Ssang suddenly flinched and took his hand away from the door handle.
His body flashed and seemingly teleported twenty meters behind him. He grabbed and pushed Nupchi standing there awkwardly behind a thick pillar, then slid behind the couch as if he was moving on ice. SMASH-!!
The window toward the rear suddenly shattered and two streaks of light flew in.
Clank, clank-!
Two shurikens flew in like bullets, causing sparks to fly off from the concrete wall.
At the same time, the exit door was kicked open. The office’s interior light was abruptly sucked outside; dark shadows seemed to flash by mere moments before streaks of light scythed past the winds. “They are here!” Bak Gi-chung yelled loudly. Elation, relief, grief, and various other emotions were contained in his yell. “Don’t make me laugh!” Mu Ssang glanced at Bak Gi-chung before stomping on the corner of the couch.
The three-person couch stood right up after getting stomped on by the Iron Leg.
Stab, stab, stab, stab-!
Four throwing daggers stabbed into the couch in a perfectly uniform line.
The window noisily shattered apart right afterward. Two shadows leaped inside the interior. And at the same time, two other shadows stepped inside through the open doorway as if they were getting sucked inside.
Four shadows slid inside to surround Mu Ssang in no time at all. It was the so-called four directions formation.
‘And what are these clowns supposed to be now?’
Mu Ssang was somewhat puzzled by what he saw.
These new intruders all wore exactly the same attire as if they were being sponsored by the same company. They gave off the vibes of evil henchmen number one, two, three, and four from an action movie set, too. Starting from black yukata to black haori, they even wore black Ray-Bans over black masks, too. They must’ve been dead-obsessed over the color black and decided to go all-in on the color scheme.
Assigning identification numbers was one of the occupational diseases that came with being a sniper. Mu Ssang mentally labeled these black-clad intruders Black One, Two, Three, and Four starting from his right. Not only did the Four Black Bros share their fashion sense, they also carried the same tools of the trade, too. Wakizashi’s in their right hands gleamed sharply under the faint light. (Wakizashi: a short Japanese ‘taichi’ with the bladeless than two feet long; a short sword) Once the black fashion parade finished surrounding Mu Ssang, the previously-warm interior’s temperature plummeted to alarming lows rapidly. The conscious Pungguk gang members did their best to roll and crawl to evacuate toward the far corner, grunting and groaning loudly in the process. Some among them displayed an admirable level of loyalty by dragging away their fellow unconscious Yangahchis. Rather suited for Yangahchis, their survival instinct seemed to have developed to a high degree.
Mu Ssang lightly kicked the couch standing tall, returning it to its original position. He utterly ignored the black fashion brigade emitting dense killing intent and simply plopped down on the couch. The four black fashion brigade members glanced at each other. It seemed that they were thinking, ‘What kind of a bastard is this?’
“I hope your skills are as ‘orthodox’ as your fashion sense.” Mu Ssang snickered derisively, but inwardly, he was impressed. Shurikens were simply meant to intimidate the target for the purpose of securing their positions. The two from the rear jumping in secured their positions first, then the two others rushing afterward provided cover for the rearguard. It was easy to guess the harshness and the duration of their training solely from their smoothly-flowing body and foot movement techniques. These four were the special-grade ninjas that he had only heard about in the rumors.
Black Three’s gaze brushed past Mu Ssang sitting on the couch, scanning the interior, before stopping on Bak Gi-chung. The fatso with quick wits jumped back up to his feet before planting his forehead on the floor to start groveling. “Haaai, odorokubeki richuokubeki kanshin shuru!” (I’m deeply awed by your stunning skill!) He translated what Mu Ssang said, except the contents were totally something else. Black Three’s cheeks visibly twitched under the mask. Bak Gi-chung tensed up greatly just then. Since the Japs came in guns blazing while covering their eyes and mouths, it was impossible to tell if they were smiling or frowning in irritation.
“Baku-sensei, okurete mo-shiwake, arimasen.” (Bak-Sensei, apologies for coming so late.) Black Three courteously bowed his head. “Gincho-shite gachigachi-desu. Onegaishimasu!” (I’ve been dying of anxiousness until now, sirs. Please, I beg of you!) Bak Gi-chung began rubbing his hands like a housefly sitting on bacon fat. “Bak Gi-chung, what’s up with these black crow-wannabe clowns?”
Mu Ssang wasn’t asking that because he didn’t know. He had already sensed them while they were making their way down from the fifth floor.
The Pungguk gang’s backers were the Yamaguchi-gumi and Higashi Honganji, after all. Judging from their skill level, they must’ve been special-grade ninjas of Higashi Honganji. Mu Ssang merely wanted to see Bak Gi-Chung’s attitude, that’s all. “Hehehe, they are warriors from the Great Nihon Empire that protect Pungguk’s interests. You f*cked up real bad, buddy. And now, we’re gonna chop your head off.”
Sure enough…
Bak Gi-chung became all triumphant and the like as if he hadn’t been groveling on the floor a minute ago. It was as if he’d be the one to behead Mu Ssang or some such. Mu Ssang could only smile wryly. A Yangahchi was a Yangahchi for a reason. Some said that the origin of the word ‘Yangahchi’ came from the old term denoting beggars, ‘Dongnyangahchi’, but truth be told, it simply meant the post-war vagrants with no jobs going around causing trouble. More specifically, the term denoted the trash pickers carrying large bamboo baskets on their backs. Their ‘role’ was to go from town to town to pick up trash using their tongs. A Yangahchi would not hesitate to steal if the owners weren’t around, raped women if given half a chance, kidnapped children, and often deliberately got on people’s nerves just to rip off ‘hospital treatment fees.
Law-abiding regular people treated Yangahchis like carriers of an infectious deadly plague and didn’t even try to come anywhere near them. Trash-like people going around picking up trash… That was the reason why ‘Yangahchi’ became THE term to denote the trash-like maggot of a human being
This Bak Gi-chung bastard definitely smelled like trash.
Mu Ssang’s irritation level soared even higher. “You scummy bastard busy kissing the Jap’s ass! I sentence you to a life of hard labor. Since your character isn’t upright, you’ll plant upright trees for the rest of your life. If you plant trees diligently enough under the hot foreign sun, you’ll surely become a human being one of these days!” “What bullsh*t are you spewing now?! Man, I’ve never seen a f*cker as crazy as you. You know what, I’m gonna bury you under the jujube tree in my front yard. And I’ll make sure to use the jujubes ripened by your rotting body as offerings come to Chuseok and Seollal. Heheheh!” Bak Gi-chung cackled insidiously.
He couldn’t help but cackle after imagining Mu Ssang getting beaten up right in front of his nose.
Mu Ssang wordlessly cut off the tip of his cigar and mouthed it. What a contradictory creature a human could be. No one could predict what will happen in the next second, yet they still worried about what might happen in a year; even though they lived an unstable life where they could die tomorrow, humans still rampaged around as if they would live on for a century.
Live for the moment, be faithful to today! That was all, really. The cigar smoke lazily wafted up into the air.
Black Three’s eyes flickered in uncertainty. “Sugoi, Sugoi Shonkei Shuru! Anatawa daredeska?” (Amazing, truly amazing! I respect you. Who are you, mister?)
Mu Ssang curtly shot back. “You dumbass, I don’t know Japanese.”
Bak Gi-chung interpreted for him once more. “He said, he admires your skill. He also asked who you are.” “Don’t f*cking make me laugh? These crow-wannabes are probably chumps dispatched by Higashi Honganji, am I right? Bugs are not qualified to learn who I am.” The black fashion parade heard Bak Gi-Chung’s interpretation and immediately placed their hands on their weapons. That single movement caused the chilling sharpness to flood into the office. “Would you look at these clowns? You must think South Korea is some kind of a joke, with how you run around in your Jap clothing and your Jap butter knives. Hey! Kuso Kurae!” (Go f*ck yourself!)
Mu Ssang didn’t know Japanese, but thanks to Choi Do-Shik, he at least got to learn a few swear words. Didn’t matter what language it was, you could memorize most swear words by hearing them a few times. “Chiksho!”
Black One leaped up while Black Two rushed in low along the floor.
Black Two’s blade sliced past the location of Mu Ssang’s knee. That move just now was overflowing with the deadly determination to land a sure-kill attack even if that meant he’d die in the process.
Black One spun around at the peak of their jump while unsheathing his blade.
The blade containing the force of Batto Jutsu leaped across space and tried to slash down at Mu Ssang’s forehead. A regular person wouldn’t even be able to notice the moment of drawing the weapon and where they got cut down. That’s how sneaky this attack was.
Despite starting later, the blade aiming for his head closed in first via a tricky landing technique before the blade aiming for his knee could arrive. As expected of ninjas, then; what an insidious combined attack that fooled one’s eyes.
“Iaijutsu?” Mu Ssang sucked in his breath. He witnessed several times the red-faced ones teach Choi Do-Shik the ways of taijutsu back in Bangtaesan. Iaijutsu was a Japanese swordsmanship technique developed in the post-Edo period, and it was a swift sword strike that used the attack as its defense – a one-hit-kill Batto Jutsu meant to be employed during real combat situations.
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The moment the blade wind scattered his hair, Mu Ssang’s head seemingly dropped into his shoulders while his back folded rearward. His upper body folded into the lower part like a piece of paper.
A blade no longer than two feet long scythed past the space where a person’s torso used to be, missing its target by a mere hair’s breadth. And a blink of an eye later, Black Two’s wakizashi sliced across where Mu Ssang’s lower torso should be.
While maintaining his bizarre stance, Mu Ssang sleekly slid back as if the blade wind had pushed him back. He was deploying the ‘Twin Cicadas Stick Together’ technique, then the Golden Mile Moving Wave right afterward.
The blade cut through the empty space. Performing a one-hit-kill sword strike was bound to leave an opening.
A dark shadow dug in past the trajectory of Black One’s blade. That speed seemed to utterly ignore space and time itself. “Heok?!”
Black One hadn’t still landed on solid ground by then; he could only suck in a cold breath after his space had been breached. He tried to change the blade’s trajectory and chop down but right at that moment, a dark object suddenly shot up.
An impact noise was immediately followed by a clear sound of bones fracturing. Black One’s head arched up into the air.
Pow, pow-!
While their figures remained close, Mu Ssang’s knee shot up to slam straight into the ninja’s side. Crunch-!
Black One’s body folded in half like a folding phone.
A bizarre yelp exploded forth from his mouth, one that could be either a scream or simply air escaping from his lungs. Black One crumbled to the floor like a deflated bag.
All this happened in the blink of an eye. The description of these events might have been lengthy, but in truth, this flurry of offense and defense didn’t even take 0.5 seconds. Black One might be quick and powerful, but Mu Ssang was ten times faster and stronger. This was the law of the jungle. Black Two, having lost the timing to assist his colleague, could only glare murderously at Mu Ssang.
‘I went overboard just now!’
Mu Ssang wanted to kick himself. When he struck Black One’s chin with a palm strike, the latter’s jawbone and neck bones shattered, causing his brain to scramble. That alone killed him twice over. Then, the knee strike landing on the side shattered Black One’s ribs, simultaneously crushing his liver, kidney, and lungs. That killed him three times over. It seemed that dealing with vicious foreigners draped in dense killing intent for so long had unknowingly turned him into a more unforgiving killer himself.
Mu Ssang sucked in a cold breath. A man who should’ve died three times over was grabbing onto his ankle. A corpse with its internal organs destroyed and its neck pulled out of its sockets by half a hand span, causing the head to flop around… was actually grabbing someone’s foot?! That sounded like a scene straight out of the Korean Ghost Stories. (Also known as Hometown Legends.) The Dead Soul Technique is a horrifying secret sorcery technique belonging to Higashi Honganji temple, and it allows one to retain a small amount of their life energy just before they get taken away by the grim reaper, all for the purpose of restraining their enemy. Ninjas would never waste the chance created through the death of their comrade. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh-! Three shurikens came flying in towards Mu Ssang in a triangular formation. Those came from Black Four in the rear. A moment’s gap later, another three shurikens thrown by Black Three came flying in next.
Black Two let out a human-like roar for the first time and rushed in like a phantom. “As*hole, you’re dead, so go to hell already!”
A powerful kick sent the corpse flying. Crunch-!
The bones of the fingers gripping his ankle shattered, and the corpse went flying like a cannon shell.
Stab, stab, stab-! All six shuriken stabbed deep into the corpse. Black One’s sacrificial spirit was commendable, but that only resulted in him dying four times over instead.
But then, a wakizashi’s blade flew in through the opening created.
“Heeeeot!” Mu Ssang was stunned for the second time this evening. Another shuriken seemingly teleported through space and appeared right before his eyes right at that moment.
That happened at the perfect timing as Black Two’s blade tried to cut through Mu Ssang’s throat. The continuous barrage of shurikens and Black Two’s wakizashi attack were nothing but distractions for this one hidden attack.
The oblique muscle in Mu Ssang’s waist contracted by about a handspan.
The muscles gripped the shuriken trying to dig in. Contrary to Black Two’s anticipation, Mu Ssang didn’t even budge from the spot.
The wakizashi’s trajectory was in consideration of where Mu Ssang might dodge, so it ended up slicing through empty air. Black Two didn’t try to stop his momentum and simply slipped past Mu Ssang’s arm like a nimble swallow.
However, he still looked like a snail in Mu Ssang’s eyes. Slam-!
Mu Ssang’s elbow slammed down on Black Two’s exposed spine. The attack applied a force similar to a polar bear stepping forward to slam down its front paw. “Kuuuhk!”
A muffled scream held back through sheer will leaked out of Black Two’s mouth. He used the impact force from his spine shattering to slash down with the cat’s claw attached to his left hand.
“Son of a b*tch!”
As expected of ninjas, what a bunch of vicious, tenacious bastards! Then again, ninjas always hid one final trick up their sleeves so that they could die together with their enemies.
Mu Ssang’s foot suddenly flew up. BANG-!
The foot crushed the ninja’s left hand that lost its target. But the kick didn’t stop there; it continued on until connecting with the groin next.
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A bizarre noise accompanied Black Two’s figure shooting up two meters into the air before he crash-landed back on the floor.
Yellow-colored liquid wetted the patterned floor. The terrible stench of ammonia spread all over in an instant. Black One’s final fate wasn’t very pretty after his face got split open vertically and his internal organs crushed to mush, and Black Two’s end was just as gruesome. His spine was shattered while his nuts were crushed. Not only that but his pelvis was shattered and his bladder was ruptured, too.
The silence so still that a pin drop could be heard descended in the office. Not even five seconds passed by since Black One and Two started attacking together, only to end up utterly torn apart like rags. The gruesome exchange of blows started and ended in the proverbial blink of an eye.
Two destroyed corpses were the only evidence left behind of the horrifying carnage. Korea was not in the middle of Africa. Whether it was Bak Gi-chung, the Pungguk gang members, or even Nupchi himself, they were nothing more than some ordinary (?) gangsters that only knew how to throw punches around. The worst they could do was stab people in the gut with sashimi knives or swing around steel pipes. That’s why the sight of lightning-fast exchange of deadly strikes, and vicious attacks tearing human bodies apart left them utterly paralyzed in fear and shock. Dozens of pairs of eyes dazedly stared at the two lumps of protein that used to be living human beings less than one minute ago.
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