In the shadowy world of assassins, silence is a virtue drilled into them from the start. Even the most elite, those who have surpassed the pinnacle of their craft, are no exception. They, too, were once novices taught to keep their lips sealed.
Yet, there are moments when frustration and bewilderment can pry open even the tightest of mouths.
The leader of the assassins, Heukjeop, shouted in exasperation.
“You bastard! Weren’t you just saying we should join forces to avenge the Sword Sect’s master?”
It was a rare outburst from an assassin.
But Hyungong merely wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“How could a Taoist from the Wudang Sect conspire with filthy assassins? It’s a repulsive notion.”
“You little… You were the one who first contacted me through telepathy…!”
“Ha!”
Hyungong cut off Heukjeop’s words with a derisive laugh.
The longer an argument drags on, the longer the explanation must be, and the longer the explanation, the less convincing it becomes—a timeless truth.
Instead, Hyungong issued a warning.
“If you wanted to sow discord, you should’ve picked a better time. Only a fool would try to do so after crossing swords.”
Though it was a bit embarrassing to call it a duel, no one had witnessed the moment Hyungong’s sword pierced his opponent’s back, so he could maintain his composure.
After making his point, Hyungong winked at Namgung Myung.
Namgung Myung was confused.
‘So he wasn’t working with the assassins, but trailing them?’
Reflecting on it, Hyungong had kept a slight distance from the assassins. It was a subtle gap, not quite enough to consider them allies.
Moreover, Hyungong’s story was far more convincing than the assassins’. A Wudang Taoist collaborating with assassins? It was unthinkable.
Hyungong had even followed them from Sangshin Village to Yangyang, claiming to help avenge Dang Mujin’s group.
‘I must have misunderstood.’
Dang Mujin also found the situation odd.
Perhaps the assassin’s outburst was genuine frustration.
However, he didn’t believe Hyungong was in league with the assassins. Hadn’t Hyungong already taken one of them down?
Even if Hyungong had sent a telepathic message to the assassins, it was likely a ruse to deceive them. Betraying Dang Mujin’s group to join the assassins, only to betray them again, was absurd.
While Dang Mujin and Namgung Myung sorted through their thoughts, Hyungong shouted loudly.
“Stop dawdling and move!”
“Understood!”
Though they had briefly misunderstood Hyungong, their task remained unchanged: pierce the assassins’ hearts and sever their heads.
Dang Mujin’s group advanced on the assassins. The sudden reversal of roles was evident in the tense eyes peering out from beneath the assassins’ masks.
Three assassins stood before them.
The leader, of average build. A tall, slender figure. And a smaller one, with petite hands and feet—likely a woman.
Of course, to Dang Mujin, the gender of an assassin was irrelevant. He would kill them whether they were male or female.
Dang Mujin reached into his robe for his needles but reconsidered.
He recalled the advice from Sam Anbul: use poison techniques sparingly.
While it was no issue to use poison on the assassins, the problem was Hyungong.
Though an ally, Hyungong wasn’t bound to the Dang family like Namgung Myung or Hong Geolgae.
Once this was over, Hyungong would return to Wudang and report everything he had seen.
Dang Mujin clicked his tongue. Tsk.
‘No choice. I’ll fight as the old man taught me.’
He would rely on his sword, using poison only to amplify its effects or disorient his opponent.
Dang Mujin remembered the countless times Gwaeui had repeated his advice.
Only fools use flashy techniques. Always give your all in the first strike.
Yes, the first strike is always the most crucial.
Dang Mujin’s right shoulder slowly rose, then suddenly shot forward without warning.
The sword, which had been hanging loosely, thrust straight toward the leader assassin’s heart.
Simultaneously, the smaller assassin lunged at Dang Mujin with a sword of their own.
As the tips of their swords met, both blades veered off course.
‘Countering a thrust with a thrust?’
It was a tactic that required immense courage and skill, one that was pointless unless there was a hidden motive.
A foreboding instinct.
Dang Mujin swallowed his pride and leaped back with all his might.
In the next instant, the opponent’s sword tip grazed his throat before pulling away. Had he not retreated, it would have pierced his neck.
The small assassin narrowed their eyes in displeasure. It seemed they, too, had hoped to end the fight with the first strike.
With the same mindset and similar techniques, the difference in skill was clear.
‘That one is a better swordsman than I am.’
A chill ran down his spine. Yet, Dang Mujin relished the sensation. Facing someone a step ahead always brought new insights.
‘Still, this is a real fight, so I need to balance the scales.’
Dang Mujin ran his left index finger along the side of his blade, coating it with a dark liquid.
“Let’s see whose sword reaches its mark first—yours piercing my heart, or mine grazing your skin.”
As Dang Mujin grinned, tension flickered in the assassin’s eyes.
While Dang Mujin engaged one assassin, the other two were busy fending off Namgung Myung and Hyungong’s attacks.
Then, as if on cue, the two assassins turned their attention to Hong Geolgae. In a fight, targeting the weakest link to create an escape route was a basic strategy.
Hong Geolgae wielded a crude bamboo staff, seemingly easy to break with a single swing. The assassins didn’t need to communicate to choose their target.
But Hong Geolgae wasn’t a fool. Anticipating the attack, he managed to parry the assassins’ strikes, albeit narrowly.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The bamboo staff, a gift from Hongmyeon Nogae, deflected the assassins’ swords without a scratch.
When the assassins’ blades chipped against the staff, they hesitated.
Seizing the moment, Hong Geolgae planted his feet firmly and began to rotate his arms, executing the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms.
A wave of energy followed, a formidable technique even the skilled assassins couldn’t ignore.
Hyungong watched in admiration.
‘Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms! As expected, he’s a future leader.’
Mastering such a technique without surpassing the pinnacle was no easy feat.
Hyungong’s estimation of Hong Geolgae rose.
‘His skill isn’t just six and a half points; it’s a solid seven. He has plenty of potential.’
Even the seemingly weakest link, Hong Geolgae, displayed unexpected strength, prompting the assassins to exchange a silent message beneath their masks.
In the next moment, two of the three assassins, excluding the leader, exhibited a strange change. They paused briefly, and their internal energy surged.
Hyungong immediately grasped the situation.
“They’re using the True Origin Technique!”
Simultaneously, it seemed they reversed their blood flow, as their eyes turned bloodshot, and thick veins bulged on their arms.
Using the True Origin Technique alone was a death sentence, but reversing their blood flow meant they would die within moments. They had, at most, a few minutes left to live.
Yet, the assassins’ desperate choice was not without reason.
Their assault became ferocious, far surpassing their previous efforts.
“Damn it!”
Dang Mujin nearly lost his grip on his sword as he blocked the assassin’s strike. The speed was dizzying, and the force behind the blade felt like a metal club rather than a sword.
To make matters worse, the opponent’s internal energy flowed into Dang Mujin’s body through their clashing blades. It was a sensation he hadn’t experienced since consuming the Great Elixir and gaining immense internal power.
The sword, which had seemed poised to strike from above, suddenly aimed for his throat.
Despite his best efforts to deflect the blade, it remained unyielding, relentlessly targeting his vital points.
Dang Mujin, while barely managing to fend off the attacks, felt a strange thrill. Just a little more. Just a little more. He murmured to himself.
The young physician from a small family had become a man who stood on the edge of a blade, seeking to enhance his martial prowess.
Hong Geolgae withdrew from the fight entirely, stepping back.
Though he longed to break through the pinnacle by facing a strong opponent, his current abilities couldn’t withstand such an assault for even a single exchange.
As the assassins switched roles, those using the True Origin Technique turned their focus to Hyungong, while the leader alone faced Dang Mujin and Namgung Myung.
Dang Mujin understood their intent.
‘They’re trying to kill Hyungong, who blocks their escape, and let the leader flee.’
A sense of urgency gripped Dang Mujin. He needed to eliminate the assassins before Hyungong fell.
But the leader hadn’t earned his position by chance; his skills far surpassed those of his subordinates, even without using the True Origin Technique. Even with Dang Mujin and Namgung Myung attacking together, breaking through was no easy task.
The Black Butterfly was merely an assassin, but he had long surpassed the initial stages of martial mastery.
Namgung Myung muttered to himself, “Don’t rush. Time is on our side.”
“But we’re fine; it’s Hyun Gong who’s in danger!”
“Relax. When it comes to survival, there’s no one better than Hyun Gong.”
Dang Moo-jin turned his gaze to Hyun Gong. The martial prowess Hyun Gong had displayed earlier had been somewhat underwhelming. Despite being hailed as the best of the younger generation, his swordsmanship seemed no sharper than Dang Moo-jin’s own. Thus, Dang Moo-jin believed Namgung Myung was a few steps ahead of Hyun Gong.
Yet now, cornered, Hyun Gong was revealing his true potential. Dang Moo-jin found himself pausing, captivated by Hyun Gong’s swordplay.
Outnumbered, outpaced, and outmatched in strength and internal energy—none of it mattered to Hyun Gong. With a single sword, he bent the opponent’s straight attack path, skillfully deflecting blades with more internal energy than his own and ensnaring the swift strikes of his foes, robbing them of their speed.
The assassins’ swords came perilously close to slicing Hyun Gong’s robes, yet never touched his skin. It was as if he wielded an impenetrable shield, standing in stark contrast to the piercing sword techniques of the Jeomchang School.
Namgung Myung murmured as he swung his sword, “The Wudang Sect’s influence will only grow. In time, they might even claim the title of the greatest sword school.”
Dang Moo-jin agreed. The martial world had a chronic issue: even after years of training a talented disciple, they often fell easily to a superior master. The decline of the Jeomchang School, once considered the best, was due to their core masters being picked off one by one, shaking the foundation of the school.
But the Wudang Sect was different. They had developed techniques that allowed them to survive encounters with superior masters. Geniuses who would have perished young in other schools endured, continuing the legacy of Wudang’s history and martial arts.
However, Hyun Gong’s stable swordsmanship had its drawbacks. For instance, while he excelled at holding his ground, he struggled to capture fleeing opponents.
The leader of the assassins, who had been fending off Namgung Myung’s attacks, seized an opportunity, leaping over his subordinates and Hyun Gong’s head to make a swift escape. In doing so, he left his two subordinates exposed, their backs wide open.
Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung didn’t miss the chance, their swords piercing the backs of the two assassins. Yet, the assassins seemed oblivious to pain, continuing to swing their swords to hold off Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung.
“Just die already!” Dang Moo-jin shouted, watching the fleeing leader. He knew they needed to catch him, but with the two assassins blocking their path, there was no way to give chase.
Dang Moo-jin couldn’t fathom why the subordinates were so loyal, even to the point of sacrificing their lives. After all, they were just part of the underworld, mere assassins.
The end of the battle came soon enough. The two assassins had exhausted their energy, allowing several deep sword wounds. They slowed, eventually collapsing. They were dead before the final blow could be struck—a rather anticlimactic end.
Dang Moo-jin crouched to examine the bodies. Their veins had burst from the backlash of their energy, leaving their bodies covered in bruises, their hearts shredded.
Including the assassin who had been pierced by Hyun Gong’s sword at the start, there were three corpses, with one having escaped.
Dang Moo-jin looked down at the dead assassins, then swung his sword to sever their heads. The already still hearts couldn’t pump blood vigorously, and the headless bodies gurgled as they expelled what little blood remained.
Hyun Gong grimaced. “Was it necessary to mutilate the bodies like that? Show some respect for the dead.”
“If this were a normal duel, maybe. But this is revenge.”
“Even revenge has its limits.”
“I carried my master’s corpse through the snow for a month. You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
With that, Dang Moo-jin plunged his sword into the hearts of the three bodies again, feeling a strange sensation at his fingertips.
Hong Geol-gae asked, “Are you going to bury them?”
“No. Let the wild dogs have them.”
Leaving the bodies behind, Dang Moo-jin walked away. Hyun Gong felt uneasy about the abandoned corpses but couldn’t bring himself to bury them.
“The one who got away, he was definitely the leader,” Dang Moo-jin muttered regretfully, prompting Namgung Myung to change the subject.
“Where do you think he’s headed?”
“No idea. But wherever he hides, I’ll find him and finish this.”
“What now? Should we follow him, even if it’s late?”
“No. Let’s finish what we started here. Let’s wipe out the remnants of the Salmak at the Jin family estate.”
As Dang Moo-jin began walking towards Yangyang, Hyun Gong’s expression turned serious, different from before. He thought desperately.
‘The assassins will still be at the Jin family estate.’
The assassins had seen Dang Moo-jin’s group retreat, so they had no reason to abandon their base yet. They would have to move eventually, but not tonight.
‘Will only assassins be left at the Jin family estate?’
He couldn’t be sure. Disciples of the Taeui Sword School might be gathering around the estate, knowing that Dang Moo-jin’s target was the Salmak.
If he accompanied Dang Moo-jin to the Jin family estate, he might encounter the Taeui Sword School disciples. And if that happened, Hyun Gong’s situation would become very complicated.
‘They might think I’m a traitor.’
Of course, there was the option of joining forces with Dang Moo-jin to take down the Taeui Sword School. But that would likely earn him strange looks from Dang Moo-jin’s group.
The situation became clear again.
‘It’s best to avoid the Taeui Sword School altogether.’
Hyun Gong hesitated, then asked Dang Moo-jin, “Is it risky to wipe out the Jin family estate?”
“No. Only small fry will be left, so it shouldn’t be difficult. Why?”
“In that case, I’ll gather clues to track the one who escaped and join you later. The Wudang Sect is skilled in tracking.”
Of course, the Wudang Sect didn’t teach tracking skills. But those outside the sect wouldn’t know that.
“Sure, do what you need to,” Dang Moo-jin replied, nodding without suspicion.