Episode 72: Woo-cheong

Woo-cheong, a top-tier assassin from Salmak, found himself in a tight spot.

Being assigned to the elite assassination squad and even tasked with reconnaissance was a dream come true.

The team was composed of highly skilled members, ensuring the mission’s success. Even if, by some chance, the mission failed, it wouldn’t be a big deal for Woo-cheong.

As a scout, his role was to avoid direct combat and escape if things went south. Observing from a distance, he could simply flee if the situation turned unfavorable.

Since he wasn’t directly responsible for the assassination, he wouldn’t be held accountable for failure.

With no risk involved and a handsome reward awaiting if the mission succeeded, Woo-cheong had never encountered such a promising opportunity in his decade-long career at Salmak.

The problem arose when all five assassins who attacked the target, Gwai, ended up dead.

’…What now?’

Despite the assassins’ deaths, it seemed the primary objective of killing Gwai was achieved. The next step was to return with proof of the assassination’s success.

The issue was finding a way to secure the evidence.

The most undeniable proof would be Gwai’s head. However, the darkened area around the tree where Gwai sat was suspiciously ominous.

‘Is it poison? And is he really dead?’

Gwai sat motionless.

He seemed dead, but he could just as easily be asleep.

Woo-cheong considered approaching Gwai but decided against it, opting instead to watch from a safe distance.

Gwai had killed several top-tier martial artists through mysterious means. Woo-cheong, who had just entered the ranks of the elite, knew that acting recklessly could cost him his life.

For an entire day, Gwai remained still, but Woo-cheong stayed vigilant. Unlike the other assassins, he valued his life.

Instead of approaching Gwai, Woo-cheong took out a dagger and threw it at him. The dagger struck Gwai’s head with precision.

‘Good. He’s definitely dead.’

Woo-cheong cautiously approached Gwai’s corpse.

As he got within a few paces, he sensed a strange aura in the air. The blackened eyes confirmed it was indeed poison.

Woo-cheong quickly retreated, using the cold air to expel the poison from his system.

‘If I hadn’t been cautious about the poison, I would’ve been in serious trouble.’

Woo-cheong pondered his next move.

He needed to bring back Gwai’s head to confirm the mission’s completion, but the poison made it impossible to retrieve it.

‘Should I go back and explain the situation?’

No, that wasn’t a viable option. Salmak wouldn’t accept a mission’s completion without evidence.

The only option left was to wait until the poison dissipated enough to cut off the head and make a swift escape.

The weather was cold, but he could endure a few more days.

Woo-cheong wrapped himself in the fur coats of his fallen comrades and crouched down where he could keep an eye on Gwai’s body.

Dang Moo-jin was tracking Gwai’s movements.

Initially, it seemed daunting, but surprisingly, he managed to follow Gwai’s trail.

Cheonghaeseong was sparsely populated, and outsiders were rare.

Because of this, people remembered Gwai more vividly.

“That guy? He passed through when winter started. Paid for a room, went inside, and snuck out west within an hour. I thought he’d come back asking for a free night’s stay, but he never returned.”

“Yeah, I was looking for a spot to ice fish, and some crazy guy swam down the river. It was colder than now… He must’ve fallen ill. Had a rough time, I bet.”

Piecing together the witnesses’ accounts, Gwai seemed to be wandering Cheonghaeseong, engaging in all sorts of eccentric activities.

Initially frightened by the thought of dealing with something related to the Demonic Cult, Dang Moo-jin found the stories surprisingly lighthearted.

’…Am I just wasting my time here?’

It didn’t seem as dangerous as he had imagined, and he considered returning to the capital.

‘Maybe I should hang around the capital for half a year, then head to the main branch to pick up some books?’

‘No, it would be better to stay at the main branch, collect all three medical texts, and then return to the capital. That would be a grand return. The townspeople would be so impressed.’

As he relaxed and his pace slowed, Dang Moo-jin heard an intriguing story from a child.

“That guy? I saw him, but I don’t know where he went. But there were people in black clothes looking for him too. Are they friends of yours?”

“People in black clothes?”

“They wore clothes that only showed their eyes. About five of them?”

Dang Moo-jin’s instincts kicked in. It was the assassins with butterfly tattoos he had encountered on the way to Luoyang. He had almost forgotten about them, but it seemed they had caught up with Gwai.

‘I doubt the old man would fall to those guys.’

Still, one never knows. Dang Moo-jin quickened his pace, following Gwai’s trail once more.

As he ventured into more remote areas, it became harder to find people who had seen Gwai.

In such cases, Dang Moo-jin focused his mind and scanned the surroundings for traces of poison.

It was as if Gwai had anticipated Dang Moo-jin’s pursuit, leaving faint traces of poison wherever he went.

The amount was small, barely enough to harm a small animal, but it was enough for Dang Moo-jin’s keen senses to detect.

After trudging through the snow for some time, something caught on Dang Moo-jin’s foot.

He quickly stepped back, thinking he might have disturbed a hibernating animal.

But this time, it was different. The ‘something’ he had kicked didn’t react at all. It was quite large, too.

Dang Moo-jin carefully brushed away the snow covering the ‘something.’ It was a corpse, dressed in black.

And there was a familiar, welcoming trace of Gwai’s poison.

‘The old man must’ve killed them.’

Dang Moo-jin cautiously surveyed the area.

Soon, he found three more bodies steeped in poison and one with a clean sword wound through the neck.

‘As expected. No need to worry about the old man.’

Feeling relieved, Dang Moo-jin continued following the trail of poison Gwai had left behind.

Not far away, he spotted a large rock. A man, bundled in layers of fur, was dozing off, leaning against the rock.

‘Must be the old man.’

Dang Moo-jin approached quietly and slapped the man’s back.

The man jolted awake, startled. It wasn’t Gwai.

“What the hell, who are you?”

The man cursed, and Dang Moo-jin awkwardly replied.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone I knew.”

“Kid, you think an apology is enough?”

With a swift motion, the man drew his sword.

Dang Moo-jin, taken aback, instinctively drew his own sword, pointing it at the man. He wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

The man, noticing Dang Moo-jin’s skilled stance, seemed to reconsider and spoke in a more subdued tone.

”…On second thought, it’s easy to mistake someone. I don’t want any unnecessary bloodshed, so just leave.”

“Oh, uh, okay…”

Dang Moo-jin sheathed his sword, grumbling internally.

It was annoying how the man wanted to end the situation on his terms after drawing his sword first, but since he had startled the man initially, it seemed best to let it go.

As Dang Moo-jin was about to leave, he wondered why the man was sitting in the snow and glanced around.

Not far away, he spotted a figure sitting under a snow-covered tree.

The figure had a dagger lodged in its head. With its head bowed and skin blackened from the cold, it was hard to make out the features from a distance.

But the build, the jawline, seemed oddly familiar. And the telltale gray hair at the temples.

”…Huh?”

His mind went blank. Dang Moo-jin trudged over to the body. The man behind him said something, but it didn’t register.

The poison surrounding the body enveloped Dang Moo-jin.

He naturally inhaled and exhaled the poison as he tried to tilt the body’s head. But it was frozen solid.

Instead, he crouched down to get a closer look at the face. It was all too familiar.

”…Old man?”

Gwai gave no response.

Of course, a person with a dagger in their head, frozen to death, wouldn’t answer.

His heart sank. Dang Moo-jin’s breathing quickened.

Huff, huff. He took short, rapid breaths and turned to look behind him. His eyes were wide, bloodshot.

The man sitting in the snow, the assassin Woo-cheong, realized something was amiss. He immediately stood up to flee.

But without hesitation, Dang Moo-jin drew daggers from his coat and hurled them at Woo-cheong.

Three daggers sliced through the snowstorm. One fell short, landing in the snow.

But the other two found their mark, embedding themselves in Woo-cheong’s back and the back of his thigh.

The dagger lodged in his thigh was the final blow. Woo-cheong collapsed onto the white snow, blood steaming as it seeped out.

Dang Moo-jin charged at him like a beast, yanking the dagger from Woo-cheong’s back and stabbing him a few more times for good measure.

“Aaaargh!”

Woo-cheong writhed in agony, and a dagger slipped from his grasp. It was identical to the dull black dagger embedded in the corpse’s forehead.

Moo-jin crushed Woo-cheong’s hands underfoot, shattering his finger bones, then grabbed his hair and dragged him across the ground.

He felt something snap in Woo-cheong’s fingers. He couldn’t tell if it was the hair being pulled out or breaking.

Moo-jin lifted Woo-cheong’s head, forcing him to face the corpse.

“What have you done? Do you even know who you killed?”

Woo-cheong recognized the corpse but had no idea who Moo-jin was. Yet, it was clear from the situation that Moo-jin had some connection to the deceased.

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t kill him!”

Moo-jin stomped on the dagger’s hilt still lodged in Woo-cheong’s back.

Normally, such violence would have been unthinkable for Moo-jin, but now he felt no hesitation.

As the blade twisted inside him, Woo-cheong screamed in agony.

“Your dagger is in his forehead, and you claim you didn’t kill him? Does he look alive to you? Should we see if you can survive a dagger to the forehead?”

Fear filled Woo-cheong’s eyes. He gasped out his words.

“I swear, I didn’t kill him! The dagger I threw was just to make sure! It was after he was already dead!”

Moo-jin’s anger flared even hotter at Woo-cheong’s excuse.

“Just to make sure? So your gang killed him, and you’re no different.”

“No, I swear, I didn’t lay a scratch on him while he was alive…”

He recalled the men in black they had encountered on the road to Luoyang. There had been one watching from afar. Was this his role?

But that didn’t justify forgiveness. The old man was dead, and no reason could excuse that.

Moo-jin’s mind was a whirlwind, and he spoke whatever came to him.

“Then you should have stopped your gang. You should have stopped them from killing him…”

Woo-cheong panted and shouted back.

“How could I stop them? Orders came from above! And the other assassins were much stronger than me!”

“My father always said, don’t make excuses when you’ve done wrong.”

Moo-jin pulled the dagger from Woo-cheong’s back and drove it into his left palm. Woo-cheong screamed again, pleading through tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I couldn’t stop it! It’s my fault! Please, just forgive me this once!”

Foam bubbled at the corners of Woo-cheong’s mouth.

Whether from blood loss, pain, or the malevolent aura surrounding the corpse, it was clear he wouldn’t last long.

But Moo-jin didn’t want to let Woo-cheong die like that.

He released Woo-cheong’s hair, stomped on his back, and drew his sword. With a swift motion, he severed Woo-cheong’s head, letting it roll across the snow, staining it red.

Traveling with the old man, Moo-jin had witnessed death many times, and sometimes he had been the one to kill. It was kill or be killed.

Even then, Moo-jin felt guilt. A healer should save lives, not take them.

But this time was different.

He didn’t kill to survive. The old man was already dead, and killing this man wouldn’t bring him back.

Unlike before, he didn’t try to make the death less painful. He could have let him die on his own, but the urge to personally end him was overwhelming.

For the first time, Moo-jin killed not out of necessity, but out of pure rage and hatred. And he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t stop himself.

Moo-jin continued to hack at Woo-cheong’s corpse, his cries echoing like a wounded animal.

The sun set, and night deepened.

Moo-jin’s sobs gradually subsided.

He stood still for a long time, then hoisted the old man’s frozen body onto his back.

And through the blizzard, he retraced his steps back the way he had come.