Chapter 127

Jeon Seok-jil, the elite assassin of the Sichuan Assassin Sect—proudly known as the deadliest sect in Sichuan Province—held the rank of Third Assassin among the Seven Assassins. He received a contract around noon.

“The target… is Bi Cheon Heuk-rang, Seon Woo-jin?” he asked.

The messenger from the Sichuan Assassin Sect bowed his head and replied, “Yes. He is the third son of the Guiyang Seon Woo family, once rumored to be more of a brute than a martial artist—a disgrace to his clan. But since entering the Flying Dragon Arena earlier this year, he recently made a name for himself by killing Heuk Sal-pyo, the peak master of the Black Tiger Gang, one of the Eight Great Powers of Guizhou.”

Jeon Seok-jil frowned deeply. “He killed a peak master? Surely you’re not saying Seon Woo-jin himself is a peak master?”

“That’s correct,” the messenger answered. “According to the client’s intel, he’s estimated to be a peak master with at least seventy years of internal energy cultivation.”

At that, Jeon Seok-jil’s eyes suddenly sharpened, turning cold and venomous like a viper’s. “So you’re telling me the target is a peak master with over seventy years of cultivation, and yet I’m being ordered to kill him?”

His gaze gradually dulled, becoming glassy and emotionless—like staring into the eyes of a doll.

But the messenger knew better.

That blank, expressionless look was the exact moment before Jeon Seok-jil took a life.

Quickly bowing his head, the messenger hurriedly explained, “This was the sect leader’s direct order! He said to assign the Fifth and Sixth Assassins to assist you, and you may use as many people as needed. It’s an order that cannot be refused. If you find yourself overwhelmed, you’re even permitted to retreat. The Seventh Assassin will be called in if necessary…”

Only then did emotion return to Jeon Seok-jil’s eyes—an intrigued glint.

“Hmm. No limit on manpower, and the Fifth and Sixth Assassins will join me. If that’s not enough, even the Seventh? The sect leader must be desperate.”

The messenger exhaled in relief upon seeing Jeon Seok-jil mutter to himself.

Then Jeon Seok-jil asked, “So, where exactly is the target? Where will the operation take place?”

The messenger bowed again. “He departed from the Sichuan Hall in Chengdu this morning, heading toward the Seon Woo estate in Guiyang, Guizhou Province. Since he’s a master of the Divine Technique, we expect him to pass through this area by tomorrow morning. But he might arrive earlier, so you’re advised to prepare in advance.”

Jeon Seok-jil nodded calmly. “Understood. Report back once his exact location is confirmed.”

But the next message came far sooner than expected.

Less than half an hour later, the messenger came running breathlessly, shouting, “You must prepare immediately! Our scouts lost track of him! He’s moving too fast to follow. It seems he’s anticipating an ambush and is moving swiftly. If he keeps this pace, he’ll pass through this area by tonight!”

Jeon Seok-jil scoffed in disbelief. “What? From Chengdu to here in half a day? Does he think he’s some kind of flying bird? And you’re not even sure he’s coming? So what exactly do you want us to do? Consult a fortune teller to find him?”

The messenger hesitated, bowing his head. “All we ask is that you do your best. Even if you fail, no blame will be placed.”

Jeon Seok-jil let out a bitter laugh and fell silent for a moment.

If we can’t find him, then we have no choice but to force him to come to us. Since he’s a rogue, we’ll exploit that.

Having made up his mind, he spoke quickly. “Gather as many men as possible. Prepare the Fifth and Sixth Assassins.”

“Yes, sir!”

---

Jeon Seok-jil’s plan was simple: attack innocent travelers along the main road.

If Seon Woo-jin was racing from Chengdu to Guiyang by the shortest route, he would inevitably pass through the main highway. And since he was a rogue, Jeon Seok-jil reasoned that by ambushing those travelers, Seon Woo-jin would be forced to intervene.

Of course, if Seon Woo-jin took a different path or didn’t care about innocent victims, the plan would fail.

Jeon Seok-jil was well aware of that possibility.

That’s entirely possible. Most rogues are nothing but hypocrites.

But there was no other way.

If this failed, then there was truly nothing more to be done.

So that evening, the Sichuan Assassin Sect’s killers launched their third assault on a merchant caravan.

The main road was now filled with the stench of blood and the screams of the dying.

“Ahhh! My arm! P-please, spare me!”

“Ahhh! My eyes! My eyes!”

“No! Take all our goods! Just spare our lives!”

“My daughter is just a child! Please, just let her live!”

Thud!

“Ahhh!”

“No! Child!”

“Please, save me!”

The caravan was under attack by over forty masked assassins.

Jeon Seok-jil had ordered them to be as cruel and slow as possible.

The assassins followed his instructions, cutting off limbs, gouging out eyes, and mutilating noses and mouths, torturing their victims slowly.

The victims begged desperately for their lives before finally succumbing.

Yet the assassins’ eyes were cold and emotionless, as if performing a routine task.

Jeon Seok-jil watched the scene from a hidden corner, his face expressionless.

This caravan is almost wiped out.

Most of the caravan’s people were already dead.

It seemed they would have to find another target soon.

This massacre, like the others, was meaningless.

But Jeon Seok-jil wasn’t disappointed.

He had started early just in case, never really expecting Seon Woo-jin to appear so soon.

If he showed up this early, he’d be more bird than man.

Jeon Seok-jil estimated the target would pass through tonight at the earliest, or tomorrow morning at the latest.

But that meant this gruesome work—slowly torturing and killing innocent people—would continue through the night, maybe even into the next morning.

Most would find that unbearable, but Jeon Seok-jil didn’t care.

Patience was one of the first virtues an assassin had to master.

As the third-ranked assassin of the Sichuan Sect, he had no time to waste on petty emotions.

He quietly waited for the caravan to be completely wiped out, showing no sign of irritation.

Then—

“Stop!”

A clear, commanding voice rang out, and someone came flying in like a shooting star.

The speed was blinding—so fast that even Jeon Seok-jil, confident in his own Divine Technique, had never seen anything like it.

He couldn’t even make out the attacker’s face.

Swish!

The moment Jeon Seok-jil registered the newcomer’s presence, the figure had already streaked through a dozen assassins like a beam of light.

A trail of pale violet sword light followed him like a comet’s tail.

Then, a beat later, blood erupted from the assassins’ bodies.

Splatter!

As if choreographed, dozens of crimson jets sprayed into the air simultaneously—a breathtaking, grisly spectacle.

Jeon Seok-jil, still hidden, swallowed involuntarily.

He had never seen a swordsman move that fast in his entire assassin career.

Is that even possible?

There were over forty assassins here, half of whom were already dead.

And all this happened within just a few breaths after the swordsman appeared.

The violet sword light filled the space like a phantom, and none of the assassins dared to counterattack.

Then one of the assassins shouted urgently, “Attack him all at once!”

He was the highest-ranking assassin present.

At his command, the remaining assassins lunged at the man from all directions, surrounding him like a protective shield.

Shing! Shing!

Twenty sword beams stabbed at him from every angle, without a single shout or battle cry.

Jeon Seok-jil clearly saw the young swordsman—likely Seon Woo-jin—pause and smile faintly.

He muttered something under his breath.

Thanks to his mastery of lip-reading techniques, Jeon Seok-jil caught the words: “Form is emptiness?”

Then—

Whoosh!

Countless swords radiated from him like a dazzling sun, scattering in all directions with violet light.

Splatter!

In an instant, the assassins attacking him were all drenched in blood, collapsing dead where they stood.

No screams, no clashing steel—just a silent massacre.

Jeon Seok-jil watched, mouth agape, unable to close it.

And before he knew it, Seon Woo-jin was standing before the stunned assassin who had given the order.

He asked coldly, “You slaughter people without even looting their goods? What kind of scum are you?”

The assassin snapped back to his senses, gritting his teeth. “Are you Seon Woo-jin?”

At those words, Seon Woo-jin’s eyes flickered.

“…So you’re saying this was an attempt on my life?”

But there was no answer.

Before Sun Woo-jin could even finish speaking, the assassin lunged like lightning, swinging his sword down.

Sssiiik!

“!”

No, he had only tried to strike down—

But before the blade could even descend, his arm was severed.

Fwahak!

Sun Woo-jin effortlessly sliced through the assassin’s raised arm, then immediately sealed his pressure points and asked again.

Tap, tap.

“I’ll ask you once more. Who are you? What do you want?”

The assassin glanced at the blood spurting from his severed arm and sneered.

“Ugh… heh heh heh. And why would I tell you that?”

Despite having both arms cut off and being pressure-point sealed, the assassin’s eyes held no trace of surrender. Instead, they gleamed with a confident, almost triumphant look—as if he believed Sun Woo-jin had just walked right into a trap.

Watching from the shadows, Jeon Seok-jil shared that same knowing look.

Sun Woo-jin was undoubtedly a formidable master, but still young and lacking experience. To give the assassin that much time was a grave mistake.

From the side, Jeon Seok-jil spotted Yuk-sal Do Dan-mu preparing to strike.

Go, Yuk-sal!

Do Dan-mu, the sixth of the Seven Assassins of the Four Kill Sect, was a dwarf whose body never grew due to a rare illness.

His specialty was pretending to be a child and using stealth to cling to his target’s back.

Right now, Do Dan-mu was pressed tightly against the assassin’s back, completely hidden from view due to his childlike stature.

If Sun Woo-jin had killed the assassin outright from the start, this wouldn’t matter—but by sparing him and trying to talk, he’d already fallen into Yuk-sal’s trap.

As Do Dan-mu pressed the poison needle to the assassin’s back, the assassin spoke again.

“Heh heh heh… Tell me, if I give you the answer, will you spare me? If not, why should I bother?”

With a sly grin, the assassin bit down on a poison sac hidden in his mouth.

A bitter, metallic liquid spread through his mouth—he planned to spray it at Sun Woo-jin with his next words.

“You made a mistake not sealing my pressure points.”

Of course, this poison wouldn’t kill someone as skilled as Sun Woo-jin.

But it didn’t matter.

While the assassin distracted him with the poison spray, Yuk-sal Do Dan-mu would strike from behind.

There was no way the assassin would sense the attack coming.

Just as the assassin was about to spray the poison, Sun Woo-jin smirked.

“Oh? Then maybe I should ask the one behind you.”

“!”

The assassin’s eyes widened—he realized Sun Woo-jin knew about Yuk-sal’s presence.

Just as he tried to spray the poison, Yuk-sal was faster, firing the poison needle.

Pshh!

“Gah!”

The needle pierced the assassin’s heart, the pain preventing him from spraying the poison properly.

He drooled the black liquid, his vision blurring as he watched Sun Woo-jin casually brush off the needle that had flown through his chest as if he’d expected it.

Then, without hesitation, Sun Woo-jin plunged his sword through the assassin’s chest.

Thuk!

“!”

The assassin felt a trembling from behind—his chest pierced, the sword had also impaled Yuk-sal.

Sun Woo-jin had known everything from the start.

It was a complete failure.

Jeon Seok-jil swallowed hard, sweat breaking out on his skin.

He couldn’t understand how Sun Woo-jin had sensed Yuk-sal’s presence—it had seemed like a perfect setup.

A master with over seventy years of internal energy was no easy opponent.

But Jeon Seok-jil wasn’t discouraged.

There was still Oh-sal and himself left.

No matter how skilled, if Oh-sal, an expert in disguise and poison, got involved, they could find a way.

“He’s not my favorite, but Oh-sal has taken down more than ten top masters before. Since this young one still lacks experience, there’s definitely a chance.”

After dispatching the visible assassins, Sun Woo-jin scanned the area.

The scene was horrific.

Everyone who seemed to be part of the caravan’s leadership had been brutally killed or was dying with limbs severed.

“Ugh…”

“P-please… save me…”

“Ugh… sob…”

Moans and cries echoed from all directions.

To think it was all a trap to lure him here made his teeth grit in anger.

Sun Woo-jin searched carefully but found almost no one who could be saved.

Most were already beyond help, better off released from their suffering.

Clenching his teeth, he ended the suffering of those in pain and gathered the few survivors to one side.

Then, a faint voice called out.

“Y-young man… please… save me…”

It was the voice of an old man, barely clinging to life.

Sun Woo-jin looked toward the sound and saw an elderly man trapped beneath a collapsed supply cart.

The man had been shielded by the cargo, luckily avoiding the assassins’ attacks.

Sun Woo-jin hurried over to rescue him.

At that moment, Oh-sal Naeng Ji-dan, who had been pinned under the cargo and looked near death, watched Sun Woo-jin approach with a grim expression.

Unaware it was his death sentence, Sun Woo-jin was rushing right toward him.

Naeng Ji-dan smiled inwardly.

“Heh heh heh… come on, then.”

Oh-sal Naeng Ji-dan’s specialty was disguise and poison.

Not particularly skilled in stealth or assassination from a young age, he preferred to disguise himself as an old man or woman to get close to his target and kill with poison.

So, when the caravan was attacked, he deliberately caused the supply cart to collapse and waited hidden beneath the debris.

If Sun Woo-jin came near, he would strike, pretending to be one of the caravan’s people.

And now, his patience was about to pay off.

“Come on, come on…”

Naeng Ji-dan prepared to use a rare, odorless poison he’d bought at great expense.

Though not as perfect as the Wudong poison of the O Sect, it was nearly scentless and earth-colored, blending perfectly with dust.

He planned to secretly sprinkle it as Sun Woo-jin cleared the cargo.

Mixed with the dust, it would be impossible to detect.

“Finally, I get to use this expensive stuff. Farewell, young master.”

Sun Woo-jin quickly cleared the cargo covering Naeng Ji-dan.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Meanwhile, Naeng Ji-dan, who had already ingested poison, released the odorless toxin into the air.

Through the dust, the earth-colored poison slowly spread, drifting into Sun Woo-jin’s nose.

Naeng Ji-dan watched with satisfaction.

“It’s done! It’s over!”

He began to slowly rise, preparing to flee before Sun Woo-jin realized he’d been poisoned and attacked.