Dang Mujin climbed onto the roof of the lumberyard building behind Jo Wol-ru.
Lying flat and silent, he scanned the surroundings, and the image of Baek Chuseo, who had been on the brink of death, came to mind.
Baek Chuseo, desperately enduring excruciating pain, wishing for a quicker death.
His bloodshot eyes and trembling jaw were exactly as Dang Mujin had envisioned.
For the past few days, on the road from Haeju to Jewon, his mind had been consumed by revenge.
How could he make the death more painful? How could he ensure his vengeance was complete? These thoughts filled his mind.
Though he carried three medical books from the renowned Three Great Physicians, he hadn’t even opened the other two, aside from the one on poisons.
And then, he killed Baek Chuseo.
It was satisfying, yet unsettling. Paradoxically, he felt no regret. If he faced Baek Chuseo again, he would kill him ten times over.
As he reached this point in his thoughts, Dang Mujin suddenly snapped back to reality.
‘How did it come to this?’
Grudge and revenge—concepts he couldn’t have imagined a year ago.
In less than a year, he had become a completely different person.
When did it all start?
Was it when he decided to follow Gwai?
When he blocked Gwai from entering the herb storage?
When he crafted needles at Seok Jiseung’s forge?
Or was it when he sought out Jonggak and ate the mushrooms?
‘No, now’s not the time for this.’
He exhaled deeply, lowering his posture.
It was late enough that few people were coming and going from the tavern.
Most of the few who were around entered Jo Wol-ru, and only a handful went into the warehouse.
The rumor that the warehouse housed a branch of the Salmak wasn’t unfounded; none of the people entering looked like ordinary laborers.
Yet, Dang Mujin didn’t immediately head for the warehouse.
Revenge against Baek Chuseo and against the Salmak were similar yet entirely different matters.
Baek Chuseo had no backing, and Dang Mujin had a rough idea of his abilities.
But the Salmak was a vast organization that needed no backing. Even when Dang Mujin knew little of the martial world, he had heard of the Salmak, a group of assassins, so their reputation was well-known.
Moreover, Dang Mujin didn’t know the strength of the branch leader or how many assassins were in the Jewon branch.
Logically, targeting the Salmak for revenge was foolish.
Yet, his fingers itched with the urge to storm in and demand justice. After all, weren’t they partly responsible for Gwai’s death?
His insides churned. ‘Your foolish actions led to the master’s death, so you must seek revenge,’ a voice seemed to chide him.
Moreover, if he hesitated now, the chance for revenge might slip away. Once Baek Chuseo’s death was discovered, the Salmak would surely react.
‘Even if I can’t take down the head of the Salmak now, I must kill the branch leader today.’
Dang Mujin calmed himself once more, hiding in the shadows as he watched the warehouse.
Time passed, more than an hour. During that time, four people entered the warehouse.
One looked like a client, two seemed to be second-rate fighters, and one was uncertain, possibly first or second-rate.
‘Hmm.’
In any group, the skill of the subordinates reflects that of their leader.
By gauging the subordinates’ abilities, one can estimate the leader’s prowess.
After much thought, Dang Mujin concluded that the branch leader’s skills likely didn’t reach the pinnacle.
A master wouldn’t be stationed in a middling city like Jewon, nor would they employ such mediocre subordinates.
Dang Mujin descended from the lumberyard building, pressing his ear against the warehouse wall, focusing his senses. He sensed some presence inside, but no distinct conversations.
Cautiously, he entered the warehouse.
A faint creak echoed, and the musty smell of a confined space enveloped him.
The warehouse door had a latch that could be secured from the inside. Such a feature was unusual for a regular warehouse.
Dang Mujin moved carefully, surveying his surroundings.
The warehouse was more spacious than it appeared, sloping slightly downward. It resembled a storage cellar or a half-buried cave.
As he turned a small corner inside, he locked eyes with a man dressed in black. Perhaps due to discomfort, the man wasn’t wearing a mask.
Dang Mujin instinctively reached for his sword but paused, realizing the man showed no hostility.
The man in black asked, “Here to place an order?”
It was hard to believe Dang Mujin had come alone to the Salmak’s Jewon branch. Dang Mujin assessed the situation and nodded.
“Yes. I heard I could meet a Salmak assassin behind Jo Wol-ru.”
“Who sent you?”
There was only one person Dang Mujin knew with ties to the Salmak.
“Lord Baek. From the Baek family in Jewon…”
The man chuckled.
“That guy, he acted all high and mighty when he first came. Now he’s even sending clients our way. You must be close with Lord Baek?”
“Yes, I’ve owed him a lot. Anyway, he told me to find the branch leader. Are you the leader?”
“No, the branch leader is inside.”
The man seemed pleased to be mistaken for the leader, smiling as he opened a door to a small room. Inside, two men were playing a game of dice.
Dang Mujin gauged their martial prowess through their movements and the aura they exuded.
One was clearly first-rate, while the other was uncertain, possibly first or second-rate. The more skilled one was likely the branch leader.
Feigning nervousness, Dang Mujin entered the room, and the man who had guided him spoke.
“Branch leader, he says he’s here on Lord Baek’s recommendation.”
“Is that so?”
The branch leader was a one-eyed man.
He casually donned an eyepatch from the table, a gesture of courtesy.
The man in black left the room, leaving only the three of them.
Dang Mujin glanced around.
‘Too cramped to swing a sword.’
With his right hand behind his back, he slowly released poison. The formless toxin began to rise from the floor.
The branch leader initiated the conversation.
“So, what kind of job do you have for us?”
“Well… there’s someone I want to teach a lesson.”
The branch leader laughed incredulously at Dang Mujin’s words.
“Teach a lesson? You want us to spank them?”
“Not quite. At least with a club…”
To end the fight quickly, he needed time for the poison to spread. Dang Mujin stalled with vague answers.
“You’re talking like a child. This is the Salmak. Our business is assassination.”
Dang Mujin feigned fear.
“Does it have to be death?”
“Other options aren’t impossible, but killing is the cleanest. Leaving someone alive is troublesome for both us and you. You didn’t think sparing them would be cheaper, did you?”
”…Isn’t it?”
Dang Mujin replied, subtly shifting his leg. The poison on the floor spread slightly. The branch leader and his subordinate remained oblivious to Dang Mujin’s intentions.
“Think about it. Slitting a throat and escaping is straightforward. Kidnapping, beating them to near death, and releasing them is more work. Which do you think is easier?”
“Uh… killing seems simpler.”
“That’s why the prices differ. Killing starts at one gold coin, while beating starts at one and a half. Which will it be?”
Dang Mujin hesitated.
“Then, killing it is…”
The branch leader burst into laughter.
“To save half a gold coin, someone’s going to die. Excellent. Who do you want dead so badly?”
“Why, it’s you, of course.”
The vacant expression on Dang Mujin’s face vanished, and four daggers flew from his sleeves.
The branch leader instinctively twisted to avoid the daggers, but the man playing dice with him took one to the left shoulder.
The injured man quickly ducked under the table.
He was trying to avoid any more daggers and buy time to remove the one lodged in his shoulder.
But it was a poor choice.
He soon realized the floor was laced with a thin layer of paralyzing poison, but it was too late.
His body stiffened, and he collapsed.
With a crash, Dang Mujin kicked the table aside and smashed the man’s head with his fist. Instant death.
The branch leader gripped two of the daggers Dang Mujin had thrown, glaring at him.
“Poison, huh? We don’t get many guests like you.”
“When you send assassins after a poison master, it’s only natural a poison master comes calling.”
“They say nothing good comes from getting involved with Gwai. Seems they were right.”
Dang Mujin remained silent. The longer he delayed, the higher the chance that more assassins would appear. He needed to finish the job quickly and make his escape.
The branch leader was equally pressed for time. He had no idea when this cramped space might fill with poison. To survive, he had to kill Dang Mujin and get out of there.
Their thoughts aligned, and the fight began immediately.
The branch leader lunged at Dang Mujin, brandishing a pair of daggers with ferocity. Against an ordinary opponent, he would have easily pierced them with several holes.
But Dang Mujin deftly sidestepped, pulling one foot back to evade the daggers. He then lowered his stance and closed in, launching a punch.
In this unlikely setting, from the hands of an unlikely person, the Shaolin martial art, White Lotus Fist, unfolded.
The branch leader didn’t recognize the technique as White Lotus Fist, but he sensed it was no ordinary martial art. Desperately, he twisted his body to dodge Dang Mujin’s punch.
“Damn it!”
Fist techniques are more flexible than sword techniques, allowing for easier expansion and connection of moves. By simply changing the shape of a fist or fingers, one can create a formidable variation.
Despite these advantages, martial artists often prioritize sword techniques over fist techniques for two main reasons.
First, the space a fist technique can occupy is narrower than that of a sword technique. Second, unlike sword techniques, a single strike from a fist technique rarely results in a fatal blow.
Unless it’s a deadly move, one can endure a few minor attacks and still swing a sword to decapitate the opponent.
However, Dang Mujin’s fist technique was different.
Not only was the technique itself formidable, but the subtle poison emanating from his palms and fists posed a greater threat. Even a graze that tore the skin would allow the poison to seep in, causing chaos.
Dang Mujin charged at the branch leader again, aiming a punch at his head.
It was a bizarre sight—Shaolin’s fist technique imbued with the energy of destruction, mingling with a sinister poison.
As the branch leader instinctively raised his daggers to block Dang Mujin’s attack, Dang Mujin struck his side with his left fist.
It wasn’t a move from the White Lotus Fist, just a simple, crude punch.
But it was effective. He felt the ribs crack under his knuckles, and the branch leader gasped for air. The outcome was decided then and there.
In that moment, Dang Mujin’s right hand clamped over the branch leader’s face. As the branch leader inhaled the poison, he felt his strength drain away.
Dang Mujin threw the branch leader to the ground, forcing him to inhale the paralyzing poison, then struck the back of his head at the pressure point. Instant death.
A thought flashed through Dang Mujin’s mind.
“Where did the man in black outside go?”
He had expected the man to rush in and help when trouble arose inside, but surprisingly, he had vanished without joining the fight.
“I need to find him and finish him off.”
Dang Mujin quickly donned his mask and climbed up the wall of the warehouse to get outside.
From his vantage point, he spotted the man in black fleeing in the distance.
Dang Mujin pursued him with all his might.
It was late, which was fortunate. With few people on the streets, the man in black couldn’t blend into the crowd.
But even without people, there were places to hide.
The man in black was heading toward the center of the district, where buildings were densely packed. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of places to hide. Once he disappeared into such a place, finding him would be impossible.
Unlike the mysterious ones, Dang Mujin couldn’t locate people by sensing their presence alone.
If that man in black hid in an alley and slipped out to inform his superiors of Dang Mujin’s appearance, what then?
It was simple. Dang Mujin would have assassins from the deadly organization on his trail.
These were assassins even the mysterious ones couldn’t shake off. Once they latched on, Dang Mujin had no way to fend them off.
Dang Mujin realized just how dangerous it had been to storm the branch of the deadly organization.
“If I catch him, I live. If I don’t, I die.”
Dang Mujin ran until his mouth tasted of blood.
His movement technique was superior to the man in black’s, so the distance between them closed rapidly. The problem was that it wasn’t closing fast enough.
There was still a gap of about ten meters, and a few more turns in the alley would allow the man in black to hide.
Dang Mujin reached into his pocket. No daggers. The four daggers he had prepared were all thrown during the warehouse fight.
“Should I have brought more daggers? No, if I had, I wouldn’t have even seen the back of his head.”
In a few breaths, he would lose the man in black.
Each breath felt as long as an eternity. Was there no way to catch him?
Then, his fingers brushed against something. A round, elongated cylinder. The Heavenly King Needle Tube that Dan Seol-young had given him.
There was no need for deep contemplation. It was his only option.
Dang Mujin pulled out the Heavenly King Needle Tube and tugged on the leather strap. It stretched tautly.
He aimed the tube at the back of the fleeing man in black and pressed the protruding button.
With the sensation of the leather strap snapping inside the tube, dozens of needles shot out.