Episode 166: The First Foray into the Martial World

Heukjeop was more of an assassin than a martial artist.

Unlike the typical martial artist who would rather die than swallow their pride, Heukjeop knew when to set aside his ego if the situation demanded it.

However, for assassins to set aside their pride, there was one condition: the benefits had to outweigh the cost.

And in Heukjeop’s judgment, this was not the time to let go of his pride.

Even if he were in perfect health, evading Sam Anbul would have been no easy feat.

But now, with a hole in his thigh and an unknown poison spreading through his body, he found himself in the heart of Sichuan, a den teeming with top-tier martial artists.

In other words, there was no way out alive.

‘Better to die cleanly.’

Heukjeop ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. The poison capsule that should have been lodged in his lower right molar was gone.

‘Did they remove it while I was unconscious?’

Even without the poison capsule, there were other ways to end his life. He clenched his right fist and struck his own crown with all his might.

But Dang Mujin had no intention of letting Heukjeop die so easily.

Dang Mujin thrust his sword forward.

The blade sliced into Heukjeop’s forearm, sending a searing pain through his body that nearly turned his vision white.

Yet Heukjeop did not scream. That was exactly what Dang Mujin wanted.

Heukjeop glared at Dang Mujin, breathing heavily. Dang Mujin crouched in front of him.

“When you were chasing me, I ran diligently. Now it’s your turn to run. Can’t you even manage that?”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Do you think I’ll dance to your tune?”

Heukjeop spat in Dang Mujin’s direction. Dang Mujin deftly dodged the spit, then stood up and spoke.

“Fine. I’ll give you one chance.”

“A chance?”

“Neither Sam Anbul nor any other martial artists will interfere in this game of tag. I’m the only one coming after you. This isn’t over. I’ll give you until tonight to run and hide wherever you want.”

“You bastard. After putting a hole in my leg, you say that…”

“You’re exaggerating. You can still crawl, can’t you?”

Heukjeop tested his leg, moving it slightly to assess his condition.

Both thighs had been deeply pierced, but the bleeding wasn’t as severe as he had feared. Luckily, he had avoided a fatal wound.

The muscles didn’t seem as damaged as he had thought. When he tensed his thigh, it was painful, but he could move it as he wished.

Heukjeop also assessed the poison spreading through his body.

‘A mixed poison.’

It was a sticky, dense concoction of various toxins. Not something easily neutralized or expelled.

However, the poison wasn’t lethal. It didn’t rot his organs or suffocate him. It didn’t even seem to clot his blood.

Heukjeop made his decision.

‘This is manageable.’

Back when he was a lowly assassin, Heukjeop had once suffered a severe wound that left a gash a hand and a half long in his abdomen.

He had run for two days and nights, clutching his torn belly to keep his insides from spilling out, and barely made it back to his base alive. Compared to that, this situation might even be better.

Heukjeop shot a fierce glare at Dang Mujin, then began to crawl, dragging his legs as he left Sam Anbul’s courtyard.

His movements were slow, and Dang Mujin truly let him escape.

Judging by the state of his legs, as long as he could endure the pain, he could walk and even perform basic martial arts techniques.

But Heukjeop didn’t stand up. He continued to crawl, determined to seize any opportunity that might arise.

The people of the city gathered to watch Heukjeop. They seemed amused by the sight of him crawling, blood streaming from his thighs.

Heukjeop felt exposed, as if he were naked before them. It had been so long since he had shown his face without a mask, and in such a humiliating state. Yet he crawled on, undeterred.

Finally, as night deepened, Heukjeop managed to escape the city.

Once outside, he scanned his surroundings. There was still no sign of Dang Mujin.

Heukjeop pressed on a pressure point in his thigh to minimize the pain.

As the pain dulled, the throbbing veins on his forehead subsided, and his breathing eased slightly.

‘Phew.’

He rose slightly, pushing off the ground with his heels.

The muscles in his thighs tightened, sending a sharp pain through him. But it was bearable.

Heukjeop lay back down and continued to crawl.

By midday, Heukjeop sensed a faint presence trailing him. It was so subtle that only an assassin’s keen senses could have detected it.

‘It’s him.’

Heukjeop pretended not to notice Dang Mujin and kept crawling diligently.

The early summer sun beat down on his back, and the air above the sunlit ground was stiflingly hot. Dust rose endlessly, covering him, and his joints ached as if they might dislocate.

But Heukjeop moved with all his might, determined not to arouse Dang Mujin’s suspicion.

When Heukjeop stopped, Dang Mujin stopped. When Heukjeop moved, Dang Mujin moved.

Thus, the day passed, and night fell.

Heukjeop grabbed whatever insects, small animals, bark, and roots he could find, stuffing them into his mouth.

Finally, he leaned against a large tree and closed his eyes.

He had crawled for two days. His exhausted body was ready to succumb to sleep. But Heukjeop fought to stay conscious, maintaining slow, steady breaths as if he were asleep.

One hour passed, then two. As dawn seemed to approach, Heukjeop sensed a quiet presence drawing near. It was Dang Mujin.

‘Just a little more.’

Three steps. Two steps. One step.

‘Now.’

Heukjeop’s eyes snapped open as he hurled a dagger and a sharpened stick from his waist at Dang Mujin. One dagger embedded itself in Dang Mujin’s shoulder.

“Ugh!”

Dang Mujin grunted. It was a solid hit, but not a finishing blow.

Heukjeop panted, his face a mix of frustration and resignation.

Dang Mujin pulled the dagger from his shoulder and tossed it aside.

“So you were pretending to sleep? Crafty bastard.”

“Damn it.”

Heukjeop feigned defeat, fingering the dagger hidden beneath his right thigh.

“You won’t die easily.”

Dang Mujin drew his sword and approached. Heukjeop took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if accepting his fate.

But just as Dang Mujin swung his sword, Heukjeop sprang up from the ground. The pain from his thigh shot through him, but it was invigorating. It cleared his fatigue-clouded mind.

With a clarity he hadn’t felt in ages, Heukjeop moved fluidly, swinging his right arm.

His body was in poor condition, but the move was the most precise and refined he had ever executed with a dagger.

The blade sliced horizontally, grazing Dang Mujin’s neck. He felt the firm yet soft resistance at the tip of the dagger.

‘It worked.’

Following the momentum of his upper body, Heukjeop rolled and rose, turning to look back.

Dang Mujin clutched his neck with both hands, disbelief etched on his face. The major arteries on both sides of his neck were severed.

With such a wound, not even the greatest healer could save him.

Dang Mujin tried to speak, but no sound came from his mouth.

Heukjeop didn’t need to hear to know what he wanted to say. He smiled wryly.

“Didn’t expect me to crawl for two days when I could walk, did you?”

All that came out was a gurgling sound. Heukjeop felt a deep satisfaction.

“I’ve been an assassin since before you were born. You could never catch up to me.”

Heukjeop picked up Dang Mujin’s fallen sword. It was a fine weapon, far too good for a mere healer.

Heukjeop ran his fingers lightly over the blade, then swung it with force. Dang Mujin’s head flew through the air.

Heukjeop sank to the ground.

It was over. The foolish healer was dead, and the seasoned assassin had survived.

‘No time to rest here.’

Heukjeop walked for another day, reaching a nearby assassin’s outpost.

The low-ranking assassins, unaware that their main base had fallen, greeted Heukjeop with respect.

Seeing his injuries, they seemed to think they had a chance to rise in rank by treating him well. And they were right.

The assassins spared no expense, procuring rare antidotes and offering them generously to help purge the poison from Heukjeop’s system.

Nearly two weeks passed in this manner. Finally, as the last traces of venom were expelled, Heukjeop let out a sigh of relief.

Once again, he had survived.

“Playing tag, are we? Arrogant little brat.”

Heukjeop chuckled darkly.

Sam Anbul and Dang Mujin stood over Heukjeop, observing him.

After exchanging a few words with Dang Mujin, Heukjeop sluggishly crawled out of the house, only to suddenly collapse, as if in a deep, peaceful sleep.

”…What’s going on?”

“Let’s watch a bit longer. It’s my first time trying this myself.”

Heukjeop began to exhibit a peculiar form of sleep-talking—not with words, but through his body. He squirmed and writhed, as if trying to rise from the ground, his legs moving as if in a dream.

Finally, he relaxed completely, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

Sam Anbul laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“He’s smiling?”

“Must be having a pleasant dream.”

“How did you manage this?”

“By combining the toxicity of cinnabar with the properties of a special herb and apricot seeds, it creates this effect.”

Sam Anbul questioned further.

“Cinnabar?”

“One of the mineral poisons used in a certain concoction.”

“Did that strange fellow teach you this?”

“It’s a lesson from a master of poisons.”

Sam Anbul looked at Dang Mujin with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“A master of poisons? Have you met one?”

“I haven’t met one personally, but I have their writings.”

Sam Anbul chuckled, shaking his head.

“I can’t make heads or tails of this. So, he’s in a daze, like someone intoxicated by that mountain’s air?”

“Something like that.”

“Seems like a potent method.”

“There are two ways to use cinnabar. One is to mix it with alcohol and let it spread slowly through the body. The other is to introduce it directly into the bloodstream. The latter is fast and powerful, but usually fatal.”

Under normal circumstances, Heukjeop would have easily expelled such toxins. But he wasn’t in his usual state. He had been hanging from the eaves for quite some time, and Sam Anbul wasn’t the type to care for someone else’s well-being. Heukjeop’s body and mind were far from their peak.

With such a large dose of poison coursing through his veins, he stood no chance.

“It’s time to wake him up.”

Dang Mujin kicked Heukjeop in the side. Heukjeop awoke with a bewildered expression, looking up at Dang Mujin.

“What are you doing, collapsing like that?”

Heukjeop seemed unable to grasp the situation fully, but soon, a fierce determination to live ignited within him.

Heukjeop propped himself up on his elbows and began to crawl again.

But it wasn’t long before his eyes glazed over, and he collapsed once more.

Again, he lay on the ground, his body twisting and turning, his legs moving like a dreaming dog.

Sam Anbul crossed his arms.

“Ending more peacefully than I expected. I thought there’d be bloodshed.”

“With the wedding approaching, I didn’t want unnecessary blood.”

“Wise decision. It’s best to handle things calmly.”

“Calmly… I’m not sure he would agree.”

In his dreams, Heukjeop might be seeing what he desires. But each time Dang Mujin kicked him, he was jolted back to harsh reality. The mental strain of such a contrast was unbearable.

After a while, Heukjeop let out another sigh of relief. Once more, Dang Mujin kicked him, and Heukjeop began to stir.

This cycle repeated several times, with Heukjeop’s movements growing slower each time.

Eventually, Heukjeop could no longer crawl. Instead, he clenched his fist and brought it to his forehead.

Thud. A faint smile appeared on Heukjeop’s face. In his hallucination, he had taken his own life.

But of course, Heukjeop did not depart for the afterlife.

Once again, he awoke in Sam Anbul’s yard.

Dang Mujin crouched down, gently patting Heukjeop’s head.

“Did you strike yourself with a heavenly blow?”

“Uh… uh…”

Dang Mujin smiled brightly.

Heukjeop’s face twisted with a mix of despair and fear, his entire body trembling like a leaf.

Dang Mujin whispered in his ear.

“You’ll enjoy this for a long time.”

Heukjeop tried to resist the pull of sleep, his eyes wide open, but soon he slumped again. Dang Mujin placed a small wooden block beside him and sat quietly, watching Heukjeop.

As Heukjeop drifted into his illusions, Dang Mujin was lost in his own memories.

He saw the face of a middle-aged man with graying hair.

Every time he returned to the capital from his travels, Dang Mujin felt as if his journey through the martial world had come to an end.

How many times had he left and returned?

But now, Dang Mujin realized.

His first journey began when he encountered the mysterious Ichung while brewing medicine in the backyard, and it ended at this very moment.

Tears welled up in Dang Mujin’s eyes.

He watched over Heukjeop throughout the night, and as dawn approached, he finally pierced Heukjeop’s heart.

The young healer had become a martial artist.