White Devil Mountain Read Online Free PDF

business, saying, “I want you to take me up Mount Shilla with you.”
    “I can’t.” D’s reply was terse. It left the man no footing at all.
    “That’s right,” the hoarse voice interjected in a tone that sounded pained. “We’re the bona fide rescue party, working at the village’s request. If you want in, go get the village’s permission.”
    “That’s out of the question.” Crey shrugged his shoulders.
    “I thought as much. What with you being wanted for murder and all. A government official from the Capital, and an innocent family of three—Crey of the Deadman’s Blade has sunk pretty low, I guess.”
    Disregarding the jibes of the hoarse voice, Crey wore an intent expression as he asked D, “You got a spokesman working for you now?” Apparently he’d noticed the inhabitant of the Hunter’s left hand. “And a pretty unsavory one at that. Want me to get rid of him?”
    Crey’s right hand turned with a flick of his wrist, and like a magic trick, a thin double-edged knife lay in its grip. The only explanation seemed to be that it’d appeared from thin air. Was this the famed Deadman’s Blade?
    “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing, and there won’t even be any blood. Once the little nasty living in it has died off, I could put your hand back where it belongs and it’ll move just the same as before. But only if it’s within three days of it being cut off.”
    D looked at his left hand. “Is that so?” he said.
    “Don’t do it!” the hoarse voice shouted.
    “Well, if the boss says it’s okay—” The knife spun in Crey’s hand.
    With a shout, the left hand circled around behind the Hunter’s back. Whether D moved it or the hand moved itself was unclear.
    “I wouldn’t kill a fleeing man.” Crey grinned wryly, making to put his blade away. He’d only been joking.
    “I’d see your skill,” D said.
    Crey’s eyes glimmered. At that moment, the two men were no longer ordinary people.
    “Are you sure? That’s not the sort of thing to joke about.”
    “Let’s see the Deadman’s Blade.” Devoid of expression, D’s face was so beautiful, and so chilling.
    “This comes as a surprise. I’d heard you never let on about giving a rat’s ass about anyone else.” Crey’s expression was intrepid, and dangerous. “Though it seems you make exceptions when it comes to exceptional abilities. Happy to oblige, D!”
    This is what it was to be a fighting man. The Hunter didn’t say he’d bring the man along if he displayed his skill, and the outlaw didn’t even change his stance before launching his lanky form at D. The gleaming arc of his weapon, however, slashed the air an inch or more from the base of D’s neck. He’d blown it. No, not exactly. The edge of that gleaming arc clung to the tip of the knife like a thread. At that moment, Crey’s expression became as blank as D’s. An unvoiced battle cry—the tip of the knife trembled, and the thread of light that hung in the air without vanishing sped at D’s shoulder as if hurled at it. Blood spurted out.
    “I think that’s far enough.” That declaration came from the attacker—Crey. There was no triumphant ring to the words. He was holding his own right shoulder. And from between his fingers dripped blood.
    The weapon responsible was clutched in D’s left hand: a knife with a footlong blade—or rather, a dagger. However, considering that the two men were separated by almost fifteen feet, it would be impossible to attack with that. There wasn’t even any gore on its blade.
    The victim alone understood. “So, you saw through my trick, did you? But I didn’t even see it coming. That’s the man called D, eh?”
    “What you did just now isn’t all of it,” D said while returning the dagger to the back of his belt. “But I saw the Deadman’s Blade—as promised.”
    “I get you. I had thought about putting a little scare into you, but you’re more than I can handle. But I don’t give up, D.” His knife spun. It