Chapter 497

Half an hour.

That was the longest I could hold out. With the cold edge of a sword against the back of my neck, I muttered under my breath.

“God, this sucks.”

Ssshhk.

A stinging pain ran across my neck, and blood slid down it. The point of the gesture was obvious. I sighed.

“I lost. Let’s stop.”

“Wrong. Again.”

That dry voice was one I hadn’t heard during the fight. I already knew what its owner wanted me to say.

“…I’m dead. Happy?”

The blade that had been slowly digging into my neck stopped. When I felt the cold metal withdraw, I pressed a hand to the cut to stop the bleeding, then turned around.

Mungyeong was sitting on a rock about thirty feet away.

“Do you know how many times you’ve died?”

“Twelve.”

Five times, my Sinews and Meridians had been severed in all four limbs. Three times, I had died from a Pressure-Point Strike to a lethal acupoint. Three more times, my heart had been pierced. And just now, my throat had been cut.

I hadn’t actually died, but I might as well have. I wiped the sticky blood from my neck with my sleeve and looked at Mungyeong.

“It’ll be different next time.”

“That’s the eleventh time I’ve heard that.”

“I mean it this time.”

“That makes twelve.”

“……”

What a memory.

As I stood there speechless, Mungyeong asked, “Do you know why you died?”

A fight always left a result, and a result gave you something to think about.

I silently replayed our fight in my head, then blurted out an answer.

“Because I fought like an assassin?”

“As expected, you know nothing… Hmm.”

Mungyeong had begun speaking almost at the same time as me, but now he trailed off.

“Am I wrong?”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know exactly when it started, but I found myself imitating you. Your movements and things like that.”

At first, after getting turned into a pickle soaked in poison, I’d begun paying attention to everything around me. Then I’d started copying Mungyeong’s movements bit by bit.

Dueling him two or three times a day, I’d gradually grown used to them. My eyes recognized them, and so did my body.

But…

“That was my mistake.”

“Why?”

“New shoes rub your heels raw. Even more so if they’re too small.”

“Be more specific.”

“I should’ve quit the clumsy imitation and fought my own way. Especially against the Slaughter Saint.”

“……”

Mungyeong stared at me for a while, then tossed out a single remark.

“You’re not a complete idiot.”

“Oh, was that a compliment?”

“It means you’ve only just reached the basics.”

“Exactly. Thank you for the compliment.”

Mungyeong frowned.

“Are your ears plugged?”

“Nope. They work fine.”

“…You have a gift for getting on people’s nerves.”

“Either way, reaching the basics means it was a compliment. Why are you so bad at being honest? Are you going through puberty?”

“I said I’m not!”

“Why are you shouting all of a sudden?”

“When did I— I said I’m not!”

“…Now that I think about it, maybe you are.”

Not going through puberty, my ass.

But if I talked back one more time, my head looked liable to fly off.

After that outburst, Mungyeong returned to his usual calm, dry tone as though nothing had happened.

“The basics are just that: the basics. There have been plenty of others like you.”

Others like me?

I ventured a question.

“Do you have other Disciples?”

“Of course. You met one in Sichuan.”

“Other than Old Man Dong. You know what I mean. Don’t change the subject.”

“……”

Silence was as good as an admission. The thought of the Slaughter Saint’s hidden Disciples made me curious.

“Who? Who are they? Do you still keep in touch? Do you all get together for a meal on Teacher’s Day¹?”

“I have no reason to tell you. And what the hell is Teacher’s Day?”

“You’re awfully difficult.”

“…You grow more insolent by the day. Do you have five lives or something?”

“Considering I’ve died and come back twelve times, I’d say I have about thirteen. So you’re really not going to tell me?”

Mungyeong stared at me, then spoke abruptly.

“I’ll tell you. On one condition.”

A condition from the Slaughter Saint. I answered with complete confidence.

“It’s about time to eat. I’ll be going now.”

“I distinctly remember you eating before you came.”

“I eat five meals a day.”

“Stay and hear the condition. You seemed quite curious.”

“Everyone has a life of their own and secrets they’d rather keep. Who am I to pry? Anyway, I’ll be off.”

“Stop right there if you want to keep your head.”

“……”

Fuck. I shouldn’t have asked.

My stomach knotted with panic as I turned back around. Fine. Since I was stuck here, I might as well hear the story.

“So you really have other Disciples?”

“Not Disciples. But I did teach several people.”

“That sounds like you’re saying they’re gone.”

“It’s been a very long time. They couldn’t possibly still be alive.”

“Were they, by any chance, in the same line of work as…?”

“They were assassins. They belonged to Salcheonmun² with me.”

Even the name smelled of blood.

So he belonged to a sect, too.

It made sense when I thought about it. No matter how extraordinary Mungyeong was, he hadn’t been born an assassin.

Still, a sect the Slaughter Saint belonged to should be fairly well known.

But no matter how thoroughly I searched my memory, the name Salcheonmun meant nothing to me.

As if he’d read my mind, Mungyeong spoke.

“No use trying to remember it. The sect vanished long ago.”

There was only one way for a sect to vanish. Watching his expression, I carefully said one word.

“Annihilated?”

“Yes.”

“How did that happen? No, before that—weren’t you the Sect Leader?”

“They chose the wrong path and paid the price. That’s all I’ll say.”

Mungyeong finished speaking and rose to his feet. A short sword in his hand already gleamed with a keen blue edge.

“Now it’s time for you to pay.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dodge one sword stroke. That’s the condition.”

Most people would probably think, How am I supposed to evade that? But from my perspective, it was worth trying.

I’d lasted half an hour against the Slaughter Saint while doing a lousy imitation of an assassin. Surely I could dodge one stroke.

“If I do, will you tell me more later?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. I can do that.”

Mungyeong added, “Close your eyes.”

“Fuck. Are you kidding me?”

“Then you will die. Not the thirteenth time, but for the first and last time.”

Before he’d finished speaking, Mungyeong’s sleeve fluttered.

By now, I was used to his attacks. I instinctively turned my head, but what came flying toward me wasn’t a hidden weapon. It was something else.

That’s…

A powder so fine I could barely make it out even when I strained my eyes to their limit.

It rode the wind blowing toward me. The instant the powder touched the air—

Whoosh!

Darkness swallowed the world.

No. That wasn’t right.

The darkness hadn’t swallowed the world. It had swallowed me.

Beep.

System

You have been poisoned by Blindness Powder!

You temporarily lose your eyesight!

Rapid Detoxification is required! If Detoxification is delayed too long, permanent damage may occur!

Every hair on my body stood on end as the System alert sounded in my ears.

Blindness Powder? The poison itself didn’t matter. I was still wearing the Myriad-Poison Ring.

The problem was that Mungyeong’s sword was coming through the darkness far faster than the ring could detoxify the Blindness Powder.

Ssshhk.

I couldn’t see a thing. But I could feel it clearly.

In a world moving so slowly it felt as though someone had pressed pause, a killing sword approached, erasing the wind in its path.

This is…

A move from the greatest assassin of all time.

I felt a killing intent unlike anything I’d ever encountered—so stealthy and chilling that I shuddered.

I stared blankly into the darkness.

And in that suffocating space where I could see nothing, I felt every sense I had awaken.

Slash!

Wudang, the Zhuge Clan, and the Beggars’ Sect.

They had chosen only trustworthy elites to preserve secrecy, but no one could ignore either the standing or the number of those gathered.

Among the several hundred martial artists from prestigious great sects, the figure of a young medical apprentice was bound to stand out wherever he went.

“Oh, it’s you. Just coming out?”

“I’ve just been to see Young Master Jin.”

“You seem to visit him more often these days.”

“Yes. His training has been so rough lately that he keeps getting hurt.”

“Good heavens. Great Hero Jin really is remarkable. He’s younger than my son, but he isn’t content with his current realm. He just keeps working…”

“He must be an incredible master. I don’t know much about Murim myself.”

The Zhuge martial artist standing guard let out a short laugh at the young medical apprentice’s innocent remark. Boredom had led him to bother a child who’d learned nothing but medicine, and now he felt a little guilty.

“He is incredible. No doubt about it. You’ll understand someday, too.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

“If you’re not involved in Murim, you might not know. Anyway, is his training over for today?”

As though he knew nothing, Mungyeong tilted his head and answered.

“No. He said no one should come near him for the next two shichen³.”

“Understood. This is Great Hero Jin we’re talking about—we can’t interrupt his training. I’ll pass that along to the next guards.”

“Yes. Then take care.”

Mungyeong politely bowed at the waist and was about to leave when the martial artist suddenly spoke.

“My, his training must be rougher than I thought.”

“Sorry?”

“The blood on your sleeve. Was Great Hero Jin badly hurt?”

The guard’s follow-up question never reached Mungyeong. He looked down at the bloodstain on his sleeve and murmured, “The basics…?”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Young Master Jin is fine, so don’t worry.”

“Ah. Good. All right.”

Leaving the martial artist behind with an uneasy expression, Mungyeong walked away.

Several faces had grown familiar enough to speak to him and acknowledge him as they passed, but the young medical apprentice’s mind held only one person.

Jin Taekyung. Jin Taekyung…

He’d thought it couldn’t happen. Yet the boy really had dodged that final sword stroke.

The results of the past several days of testing, and of today, had exceeded Mungyeong’s expectations. No, they had exceeded anything he’d imagined.

So this can happen.

Everything he’d told Jin Taekyung was true.

He had once had people who could properly be called Disciples, and every one of them had possessed the “basics.”

But there was one thing he hadn’t mentioned: how long that had taken.

The fastest of them took a little over a year, if I remember right.

Jin Taekyung had done it in only seven days and nights.

No one else came close.

Mungyeong didn’t know whether it was because of the boy’s Heavenly Martial Physique or because he was a Supreme Peak master. Whatever the reason, there was something special about Jin Taekyung himself.

“Even so… I never expected this much.”

He murmured too softly for anyone to hear and rolled up his sleeve.

The skin had been cut by something sharp, and beads of blood had formed along the wound. Looking at it, Mungyeong had a sudden thought.

Now I understand how the Fire King feels.

But Mungyeong did not realize that a faint smile had formed at the corner of his mouth.