Chapter 482: We Are Not in Hell
Chapter 482: We Are Not in Hell
Leaving the forge behind, Myeong Sin arrived at a marketplace a short distance from the Golden Dragon Clan’s estate.
This single street, lined with about twenty buildings on either side, constituted the entire village—a mere rest stop for travelers nestled between larger towns. Walking through the darkened thoroughfare, Myeong Sin reached a dilapidated tavern.
Inside, the establishment had already closed for the night. A man who appeared to be the owner was tidying up, methodically wiping a table with a rag.
The owner was an utterly ordinary man. His height, his features, his overall presence—he had the kind of face one might encounter a dozen times in a lifetime and never remember. Whether met as a merchant, a waiter, or even a fellow martial artist, one would simply pass him by without a second thought. He had no moles, no scars, and no distinguishing characteristics whatsoever.
As Myeong Sin entered, the owner spoke without looking up from his work.
"We’re closed, traveler."
"I’ll just have a quick bite and a single drink before I go."
The owner looked troubled as he scanned the newcomer. Judging that the man was not a martial artist, he relaxed his posture.
"It looks like you’ve missed your meals. What kept you so busy that you couldn't eat until this late hour?"
"I was struggling just to make a living, and it turned out this way."
The owner set down his rag and gestured for him to come in. "Thank you. I’ll eat quickly and be on my way."
As Myeong Sin took a seat by the window, the owner retreated into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of liquor and a simple snack.
"It’s cold, but it should be edible."
"Thank you."
After serving the food, the owner picked up his rag and returned to the table he had been cleaning. Then, he asked abruptly, "Was there anything awkward?"
At the sudden question, Myeong Sin replied, "It was perfect."
Setting the rag down, the owner looked at Myeong Sin. "It’s been a while since I played a tavern owner. When was the last time?"
"Four years ago, when we killed the Three Guests of Jeongmu."
"Ah, that’s right."
Surprisingly, this humble tavern owner was the current head of the Underworld and the man who would later be feared as the king of all assassins: the Murder King.
He was extraordinary within the ordinary—a man who had reached the ultimate principle of his craft. The Murder King was someone who, by mimicking a hundred different lives, became those lives themselves. Today, his life was that of a simple tavern owner.
The Murder King resumed wiping the table, his movements rhythmic. He tried it one way, then another, practicing how to make the mundane motion look as natural as possible.
"As you expected, Geom Mu-geuk came to find me."
"How was he, seeing him in person?"
"He was a special man, just as the rumors said."
"In what way?"
Myeong Sin recalled the moment Geom Mu-geuk had strode over, grabbed his hand, and pulled the handle. He remembered those clear, deep eyes that had looked at him then.
"Confident, cheerful, and free."
"The Young Cult Leader has earned quite a few points with you, it seems."
The Murder King smiled broadly at Myeong Sin. One might think a smile wouldn't suit a killer, but the Murder King was a man of a thousand expressions. He was equally rich in his emotional displays; he could shed floods of tears at a tragedy or scream in a fiery rage as if truly incensed.
However, Myeong Sin knew the truth. All these emotions were practiced; they were manufactured. If there was a single word to describe the man known as the Murder King, it was this:
Emptiness.
There was nothing inside him. No desire for slaughter, no foul greed. Rather, it was more accurate to say he was born with an interior that nothing could ever fill. He was like an ice cliff. Anything that entered his heart simply slid off, falling into the bottomless darkness below.
That was why Myeong Sin believed this man would one day become the king of assassins. In any situation, at any moment, he would never hesitate.
Myeong Sin looked around the tavern. Hidden devices for a surprise attack were prepared everywhere. The wooden cylinder holding chopsticks in the corner, the old beaded curtain hanging at the kitchen entrance, the pig doll sitting on the counter, the hole in the broken wall...
Countless objects were actually mechanisms designed to kill. Because none of them held the metallic, murderous intent typical of mechanical traps, even an expert might never recognize them. And most of them were Myeong Sin's own creations.
"Are you really going to kill the Young Cult Leader?"
In truth, it was a question that didn't need asking. This tavern wasn't the only place where preparations were underway. Myeong Sin’s gaze shifted to the building across the street.
Through the window, he could see men wiping blood off the walls. When a cart arrived in front of the building, assassins began carrying out corpses and stacking them like cordwood.
Standing on the roof of that building with his arms crossed was the most prominent rising star in the Underworld: the Blood Rakshasa. In thirty-nine assassinations, he had not made a single mistake, claiming the lives of many famous experts. Though he was Myeong Sin’s direct junior, the look in his eyes held no respect for his senior.
Corpses were being carried out of other buildings as well. A masked man standing in front of one of those buildings gave a slight nod of greeting. He was not an assassin of the Underworld, but Eophwa, a top-tier killer from Killing Heaven.
The Murder King had even commissioned the highest-ranking assassins from rival organizations for this task. In the building next to that, two men talked while looking up at the sign of a fabric shop. They were the Black Shadow Twin Killers, unaffiliated mercenaries who had recently gained a terrifying reputation.
Tonight, this entire street had been massacred. Now, these elite assassins would take the places of the dead villagers.
It was an operation involving dozens of assassins whose names alone commanded fear. It was the first time in the history of the Underworld that such a large-scale operation had been conducted. Regardless of the outcome, it was an event that would be remembered forever.
"If we kill the Young Cult Leader, we will all die as well."
"Are you afraid of dying?"
Myeong Sin said nothing, watching the cart loaded with corpses depart. Suddenly, the Murder King shouted.
"Wait!"
The Murder King strode out into the street and walked up to the cart piled with bodies. With a cold gaze, he grabbed the neck of one of the corpses. In that moment, the "corpse’s" eyes flew open. The person was not yet dead. Even from a distance, the Murder King had not missed that faint trace of life energy.
CRACK.
The sound of a neck snapping echoed through the silent night. Returning inside, the Murder King continued as if nothing had happened.
"If we die, won't it be nice to see the people we've killed again? Don't you want to see them?"
After a brief pause, Myeong Sin answered, "I see them every day even now."
The Murder King’s eyes glowed with a pale, white light. The coldness in them sent shivers down Myeong Sin’s neck.
"The decision is out of our hands. Those above have made the call. So, we kill the Young Cult Leader, and then we disappear."
Myeong Sin wondered what the powers-that-be were thinking. He spoke tentatively. "The Heavenly Demon will not stay still after losing his son. He will hunt us to the ends of hell."
"We are not in hell. We are here in this world. If we choose to hide, he will never find us."
Indeed, the Murder King could do it. He was a man who could live the life of the very person pursuing him without ever being caught.
"Why me?" Myeong Sin asked.
Myeong Sin’s role was to lure the Young Cult Leader here. There were usually assassins who specialized in such tasks, yet the Murder King had assigned it to him.
The Murder King gave an unexpected answer. "The Young Cult Leader resembles you."
Myeong Sin looked back at him, confused.
"I hear he mimics the ways of the Orthodox Faction despite being a demonic cultist?"
Myeong Sin knew it was a reproach, but he couldn't offer a rebuttal. Despite being an assassin, Myeong Sin had rules. He didn't kill children. He didn't kill those who didn't know martial arts. He didn't kill those who weren't villains. These were the conditions he had set for his contracts until now.
The Murder King walked slowly and stood beside Myeong Sin. "Sin."
Myeong Sin flinched. It had been a long time since he had been called by his name.
"Stop with the hypocrisy. If you keep trying to find meaning in killing people for money, it will only make things harder for you."
Myeong Sin said nothing. He could say nothing.
"If we weren't friends, you would be dead already."
He was currently clinging to the Murder King’s smooth ice cliff, stripped bare. If he tried to force himself away, the skin of his entire body would be torn off. Even so, he was the only person the Murder King had ever allowed onto that cliff.
"I’ll be going now. It probably won't be easy to bring him here."
At Myeong Sin’s farewell, the Murder King began wiping the table again. "And do you think killing him will be easy?"
Myeong Sin turned and left the tavern. The gazes of the surrounding assassins focused on him like needles. From the roof of the opposite building, the Blood Rakshasa called out to the Murder King.
"How much would the contract fee be to kill an assassin who has grown tired of killing?"
He was mocking Myeong Sin. Rumors had been circulating that Myeong Sin was avoiding contracts and looking to retire.
The Murder King stopped wiping and answered quietly. "If an assassin hates killing people, isn't that person already dead?"
The Blood Rakshasa laughed aloud at the answer.
Right then—WHOOSH!
With a sudden thrust of the Murder King’s hand, the Blood Rakshasa was instantly sucked toward him from across the street. It was a terrifying display of divine power fueled by immense internal energy. Even as the Murder King gripped his throat, the Blood Rakshasa did not dare to resist.
"P-please, forgive me!"
Despite the plea, the Murder King did not hesitate. He drew a dagger and sliced off the man's tongue in one fluid motion.
SPURT!
Blood sprayed in all directions. The Blood Rakshasa didn't dare to scream; he simply clutched his mouth to stanch the bleeding. The surrounding assassins held their breath in terror.
Myeong Sin, standing in the street, locked eyes with the Murder King one last time. He turned and walked away without a word.
The Murder King looked for a fresh cloth. "Our Young Cult Leader likes drinking in run-down taverns."
He crouched on the floor and began wiping up the blood. "I should send him off from a place he likes."
*
When Geom Mu-geuk returned to his quarters, Geum A-rin was waiting for him.
"Where on earth have you been so late at night?"
She had rushed over upon hearing that an assassin had infiltrated his room, but he had been gone. She had returned multiple times, only to find him missing. Finally, they had met in the dead of night.
"I almost became the man with the highest bounty in the history of the Murim," Mu-geuk joked.
Geum A-rin gave him a flat look. She hadn't been pacing back and forth all day just to hear nonsense. "Are you hurt? Did you fight them?"
"I'm not. It seems they sent assassins who were cheaper than my actual worth."
Seeing him joke as usual, she let out a sigh of relief. "Who sent them?"
"I don't know. I'm a man with many enemies."
A-rin wondered if the client might be a member of her own family. No matter how many enemies he had, would they really dare to raid him while he was a guest of the Golden Dragon Clan?
"Don't die," she said softly. "You have to keep the promise you made to me."
When she reminded him of his promise to make her the successor, Mu-geuk asked abruptly, "Could you kill your brothers?"
A-rin froze. "!"
"Do you think your brothers will give up the position of successor easily? If they refuse to step down even at the cost of their lives, I'm asking if you can take those lives."
It would be a lie to say she had never thought about it. However, when Mu-geuk actually asked, the answer didn't come. She couldn't say she wouldn't, nor could she say she would.
After a long silence, she whispered, "I... I don't know."
With her head bowed, she didn't see the faint smile on Mu-geuk's face. She didn't know that because she answered honestly, Mu-geuk thought she was the best of the three siblings.
"Think about it seriously."
It was time for her to stop looking at the stars and start looking at the ground she was standing on. Whether that ground would be solid earth, a sewer, or a thousand-foot precipice would depend on her choice.
After seeing her off, Mu-geuk stood in the yard, looking up at the night sky. Then, Hwi’s voice came from the shadows.
"You missed a chance to leave your name in the history books."
He was referring to the comment about the bounty. Mu-geuk laughed. "I may be the incarnation of greed and fame, but I'll pass on being recorded in the history of assassins."
Hwi smiled and stepped up beside him. "The masterminds behind this incident are professional assassins."
Mu-geuk informed Hwi that his suspicion had become a certainty. Hwi needed to know this even before his father, the Clan Leader. As the identity of the enemy was confirmed, an intense light flickered in Hwi’s eyes.
"The threat of a bounty wasn't a joke. If they have a target, it will likely be me," Hwi noted. They wouldn't dare dream of trying to assassinate the Golden Dragon himself. "You asked me to tell you about assassins, didn't you?"
There was something he absolutely had to tell Mu-geuk. "What comes to mind when you think of an assassin?"
Mu-geuk answered with the first things that came to mind. "Surprise attacks, ambushes, cowardice, poison, tenacity, and the regret of not being able to collect a bounty. Things like that."
Hwi smiled. "When I think of an assassin, these are the things that come to mind."
And they were none of the things Mu-geuk had mentioned.
"Patience, planning, investigation, preparation, and study."
Mu-geuk had never prioritized those aspects.
"We often think of assassins as impulsive or emotional, but that is not the case. There are no people more rational and calculating. They are those who endure, study, and prepare. They overcome differences in martial skill through those means."
This was the core of Hwi's warning.
"They will have finished all their research on you, Young Lord. Your personality, your likes, how you react in certain situations, and what you say. What food you prefer and who you care for. They might even know you better than you know yourself."
Listening to him, Mu-geuk realized something: A person who doesn't know themselves is easily killed.
"All an assassin's preparation is for one single moment," Hwi continued.
"What moment is that?"
"The moment everyone knows, yet forgets for just a split second." Hwi’s eyes gleamed as he asked calmly, "Young Lord, when is the moment you are most off-guard?"