Chapter 491: Hwi’s Stealth Is Not a Martial Art
Chapter 491: Hwi’s Stealth Is Not a Martial Art
The moment he saw the ghosts, the Murder King knew.
‘It’s the Heavenly Demon’s martial art!’
There could only be one technique in the world capable of summoning such terrifying spirits.
Witnessing the Heavenly Demon’s power in person—a power he had only heard of in legends—exerted an extraordinary pressure. Just looking at it was enough to make one’s fighting spirit wither away.
If the Murder King felt this way, what of the assassins running alongside him?
Their bodies were still moving, but their wills had already shattered. Some slowed their pace, while others came to a dead halt. These were veteran assassins who had survived countless life-and-death struggles, yet their hearts froze the moment they laid eyes on the ghosts of the Nine Calamities Demonic Art.
Rumble! Crash!
The assassins resisted in their own ways. Some lunged with daggers, others unleashed hidden weapons. Some manifested Body Protection Qi, while others fired off Sword Qi.
But it was all in vain.
Neither their attacks nor their defenses held any meaning. The blades they thrust couldn't leave so much as a scratch on the ghosts. Assassins who leaped into the air to escape were dragged back down by an invisible Demonic Energy. At their level of skill, it was a strike that could not be avoided by any means.
Thud! Crack! Smash!
Broken, split, and crushed. The ghosts swept through, destroying everything in their path.
The only one left standing was the Murder King, who had been charging toward Hwi. His heart hammered against his ribs. For the first time since the battle began, he showed signs of genuine tension.
What if a ghost had been in Hwi’s position, pushing toward him? Would he have been able to block it?
Clang!
After a single, heavy clash, Hwi and the Murder King leaped backward. The two men surveyed their surroundings.
The other assassins had been reduced to unrecognizable puddles of gore.
Hwi raised his sword toward the carnage and offered a respectful bow. He wasn't paying respects to the dead; he was showing reverence to the Nine Calamities Demonic Art.
Hwi was deeply moved. Whenever the Heavenly Demon practiced his martial arts, Hwi would always leave the area or turn his back, never daring to watch. On the rare occasions he caught a glimpse of the Nine Calamities Demonic Art being unleashed, he always showed his respect.
But now, he had charged alongside that very art. Most graciously, the Nine Calamities Demonic Art had saved his life. Could there be a more moving moment in a martial artist's life? Certainly not.
On the other hand, the Murder King looked around with eyes that had quickly regained their coldness. He felt no regret over the deaths of his subordinates. Only a cold wind blew through his empty heart.
Hwi turned to look at Geom Mu-geuk. What words were needed in such a situation? Seeing the gratitude in Hwi’s eyes, Geom Mu-geuk gave a single, firm nod.
‘I’m the one who’s grateful, Uncle.’
Geom Mu-geuk felt more gratitude and respect for Hwi than anyone else, for Hwi was the man who had always protected his father.
After acknowledging Hwi, Geom Mu-geuk turned his provocation back to the Murder King.
“I understand now. Assassins are naturally cowardly, aren't they?”
It was a mockery of the fact that he had tried to use a combined attack with the other assassins. Geom Mu-geuk tried to get under his skin, but the Murder King didn't bite.
Then, Myeong Sin spoke up. “He is a man without emotions.”
At those words, the Murder King looked at Myeong Sin. His gaze suggested that, at least toward Myeong Sin, some lingering resentment remained.
Geom Mu-geuk stepped between their gazes. “A person ought to speak. If you hate something, say you hate it. If you’re angry, say you’re angry. How am I supposed to know what’s in your heart if you just stare like that?”
Finally, the Murder King opened his mouth. “What is there for us to say to each other?”
“I have many things I’m curious about,” Geom Mu-geuk replied.
The Murder King waited for him to continue.
“What did you receive as payment for my head? Were you really promised the position of the ruler of the night?”
Geom Mu-geuk used the question to tease him, but he also wondered if there might be another motive behind the contract.
However, the Murder King did not answer. “It is a principle not to speak of the contract.”
Geom Mu-geuk could feel it. The only thing in the man's heart was the singular, cold thought of completing this assassination, no matter what.
As the Murder King gave a signal, assassins began to reveal themselves all at once. They stepped out from alleys and appeared on rooftops. The number of assassins hidden throughout the area reached into the dozens.
“You’ve gathered quite a crowd just to kill one man.”
They were all highly skilled, prominent assassins. Among them were truly fearsome individuals classified as top-tier. Though they were trying their best to hide their identities, Myeong Sin was on this side.
— Of the two on the left roof, the one on the right. The entrance to the right alley. The bearded man in the center…
He identified the top-tier assassins he knew to Geom Mu-geuk via Voice Transmission.
— Are you worried I might die? Geom Mu-geuk asked.
— You have to stay alive for my betrayal to have any meaning, Myeong Sin replied.
Since he now knew the Underworld had wiped out his clan, it shouldn't really be called a betrayal, but having stayed there for so long, the word slipped out naturally.
— Don't think of it as betrayal. For them, it’s a job, and for you, it’s a job.
— A job?
— You commissioned yourself, didn't you? You and they are both just doing your work.
A faint smile touched Myeong Sin’s lips. Even in this situation, Geom Mu-geuk was looking out for his feelings. Those words were a genuine source of comfort.
Geom Mu-geuk drew his sword as he faced the Murder King and the assassins. “You’re right. What words do we need?”
At that, Hwi took a step forward toward the Murder King. Hwi’s back seemed to say: Leave the Murder King to me until the end. This is my fight.
‘Understood, Uncle. Just be careful!’
The Murder King stared at Hwi with transparent eyes. Just as it was for Hwi, only Hwi existed in the Murder King’s vision now.
The Murder King could tell. The greatest obstacle in this contract was not Geom Mu-geuk, who had learned the Nine Calamities Demonic Art, but this man, Hwi.
To an assassin, the strength of an opponent’s martial arts wasn't the primary issue. No matter how strong the martial arts were, their job was to find a weakness and kill. But that didn't work against this guard of the Demonic Cult Leader.
Because Hwi was a man who lived solely to compensate for those very weaknesses.
Without a word, Hwi and the Murder King lunged at each other. Countless sword lines were drawn amidst the sharp screech of metal. These were no ordinary lines; they were strokes containing a lifetime of training, drawn again and again toward the opponent’s life.
As the two began their duel, Geom Mu-geuk also dove toward the assassins. If the regular and top-tier assassins were dogs and wolves, Geom Mu-geuk was a massive tiger.
Among the assassins were those who considered themselves grim reapers, masters of life and death. Now, they were meeting a true god of death.
Leaping toward his opponents, Geom Mu-geuk used the Dark Shadow Step to vanish from their sight instantly. When a startled assassin turned his head to the left to find Geom Mu-geuk’s position, his vision didn't show the left—it showed the sky. Thud. Geom Mu-geuk’s blade had already sliced deep into his neck.
At that moment, a sword flew toward Geom Mu-geuk. It belonged to the fastest swordsman among the Underworld’s assassins.
‘I got him!’
His blade was already reaching for Geom Mu-geuk’s throat.
Stab!
But Geom Mu-geuk’s sword pierced his heart first.
‘How?’
Even as he died, he couldn't understand. His opponent had reacted much later, so how? But then again, weren't the lives of assassins full of incomprehensible things?
Geom Mu-geuk stabbed another assassin’s heart and neck in succession, using the body as a shield to push forward. An assassin behind the corpse had his throat pierced by the sword that lunged from behind the dead man.
Swish! Whoosh!
Swords flew in from the left and right. The blades grazed Geom Mu-geuk’s body by the narrowest of margins. Silent laments filled the assassins' hearts.
‘So close.’
Because it was so close, one might think there was barely any difference in skill, but this was actually a situation that could only be orchestrated because the gap in skill was overwhelming. To dodge by a hair’s breadth meant he was fighting with absolute optimization.
Sssshhh.
Slash! Slice!
Sliding through with the Blink Step, Geom Mu-geuk’s sword cut down the assassins standing on both sides. In a literal flash, the assassins collapsed.
What was even more surprising was that even while fighting like this, Geom Mu-geuk was keeping an eye on Hwi’s battle. Through the fleeting glimpses of Hwi and the Murder King’s movements and the sound of sword and dagger clashing, he grasped how the fight was progressing.
Furthermore, Geom Mu-geuk was also looking out for Myeong Sin.
Myeong Sin was fighting well. He used every secret technique he possessed to deal with the assassins. He even utilized devices he had made himself. Hidden weapons he threw exploded, killing the surrounding assassins. He understood the psychology of assassins better than anyone.
Of course, the assassins didn't just take it. They used every hidden weapon in their arsenal. Blades popped out of their shoes, and poison-coated needles flew in every direction.
In the midst of that chaotic brawl, Myeong Sin felt an attack coming from behind and despaired.
‘Too late!’
It was an attack from a top-tier assassin brought in from the outside. Since he knew nothing about this man, he hadn't expected him to strike from behind so quickly.
‘I’ll have to give up my shoulder.’
Just as Myeong Sin twisted his body to avoid instant death—
Whirrrr!
Something grazed his face along with a tremendous gust of wind.
Puchak!
What pierced the throat of the assassin rushing from behind was Geom Mu-geuk’s Black Demonic Sword.
Myeong Sin didn't even have the luxury to say thanks. Assassins swarmed both of them like a cloud of hornets. In particular, seeing the sword leave Geom Mu-geuk’s hand, they thought this was their chance.
But the chance belonged to Geom Mu-geuk as well—a chance to test a certain martial art in actual combat. Dodging a flying sword, Geom Mu-geuk threw a punch.
Crack!
An assassin with shattered ribs was sent tumbling far away.
Rumble!
The sound of thunder echoed from his fist. It was the Fist Demon’s Thunder Asura Fist.
Thud! Bam! Crack!
He lightly dodged the incoming blades and threw his fists. The assassins' jaws were shattered, and their internal organs burst. A death more painful than dying by the sword awaited them.
Daunted by that momentum, the assassins momentarily halted their attack. Geom Mu-geuk reached out his hand toward one side.
Whoosh.
The Black Demonic Sword, which had been lodged in a corpse, pulled free and rose into the air. Watching this, fear flooded the hearts of several assassins. They were people who had lived believing death always belonged to their opponents.
But now, they felt as if death itself was hovering in the air, watching them. That death crossed the void and landed in Geom Mu-geuk’s hand.
Of course, that didn't mean the assassins simply retreated. They desperately tried to kill Geom Mu-geuk and Myeong Sin. Sword Qi poured toward Geom Mu-geuk. Steel nets were unfurled, and poison-tipped hidden weapons flew. They poured out every form and every assassination technique they had ever learned.
But none of it worked.
Where could he possibly hide? There was always a space to dodge. How could he counterattack in that situation? Geom Mu-geuk did it. He found directions that shouldn't exist, adjusted his angles, and controlled his speed.
Spurt!
And so, the last assassin collapsed, coughing up blood. Since he was already covered in blood, Geom Mu-geuk didn't bother to dodge the spray. As always, he didn't give the dead a single glance.
Myeong Sin watched the scene in silence. This wasn't the Geom Mu-geuk he had seen until now. Right now, he didn't feel like the talkative, joking Young Cult Leader, but like a lonely Combat God who had survived the battlefield alone.
‘That is the Young Cult Leader’s true self.’
At that moment, Myeong Sin’s eyes met Geom Mu-geuk’s. Geom Mu-geuk’s eyes, which had suited the word 'loneliness' so well, now held a bright smile. It was the moment he returned to being the cheerful Geom Mu-geuk.
“You survived.”
At Geom Mu-geuk’s words, Myeong Sin nodded and replied, “I have to finish the contract.”
Their gazes intertwined in the air. But now was not the time to share their feelings. The two of them looked toward where Hwi and the Murder King were fighting.
Their battle was also reaching its climax. And that end was incredibly silent.
Neither the Murder King nor Hwi could be seen. They were fighting while concealed. The stealth of an assassin versus the stealth of a guard. It was the final choice of two men who took immense pride in their concealment.
In a place where nothing seemed to exist, only the flashes of a sword and a dagger glinted.
Clang! Ching!
Sparks flew in the empty air. The dagger and sword that appeared for a split second vanished again.
Swish! Slash!
Every time a blade flashed, someone’s blood sprayed. They were men who could sense a presence that didn't even breathe and strike their opponent. It was a duel between those with the ultimate level of stealth.
Everything they were was at play in this fight. Their innate talent, their senses, their lifelong effort, their mindset, and even their luck. Surely, the sum of one would be greater than the other.
Slice! Spurt!
Once again, the sound of flesh being cut was followed by a burst of blood in the air. Judging by the amount of blood, this wound was deeper than the previous ones.
Splatter!
Simultaneously, blood erupted from the opponent as well. Neither of them allowed an attack to go unanswered. If they were cut once, they cut back. Blood sprayed again and again. Since neither man uttered a single scream, Geom Mu-geuk and Myeong Sin couldn't tell who was suffering the deeper wounds.
‘Uncle!’
Because the fight had become a battle of stealth, it wasn't easy for him to intervene. A wrong move could actually cause Hwi to be defeated. In a situation of extreme mental focus, he was the biggest variable that could distract Hwi’s mind.
Cutting and being cut. Hiding and revealing. Sensing and sensing again. Giving up flesh to aim for bone. Hiding once more.
As the suffocating battle continued—
Whirrr.
Whoosh.
Two sounds of wind, different from before, were heard. And the sound that followed wasn't just the sound of flesh being sliced. It was the sound of something piercing through flesh and bone.
Puchak!
Silence fell over the area.
Drip. Drip.
Blood began to flow from the empty air. From that point, the concealment began to unravel, and figures started to appear.
A man slowly revealed himself. Blood was pouring from his pierced heart. Now, the figure of the person who had stabbed him also slowly emerged.
The blood flowing down the blade, the hand gripping the hilt, the outstretched arm, and finally, the man who had fought with everything he had appeared. It was Hwi.
Geom Mu-geuk let out a deep sigh of relief and looked up at the sky.
‘Thank you, truly thank you.’
He didn't know how many times he had regretted this while watching the fight. He should have come alone. He should have found any excuse to come alone. Because his heart had been so tightly wound, Geom Mu-geuk was now so happy he wanted to scream.
Geom Mu-geuk thought that perhaps this was what had decided the match. It didn't matter whose stealth was superior or more sophisticated. The victory was likely decided because Hwi had lived a longer life in concealment than the Murder King.
Because Hwi was a man who had spent his entire life silently hidden to protect his father. Hwi’s stealth was not a martial art; it was his life itself. In the end, wasn't it Hwi’s devotion that killed the Murder King?
A surge of blood erupted from the Murder King’s mouth. When he started this job, the Murder King had never imagined such a death. If he were to die, he thought it would be at the hands of the Demonic Cult Leader or that Young Cult Leader.
For the first time, emotion appeared on the Murder King’s face. It was anger and annoyance. Though he didn't speak, his expression seemed to say:
— To think I would die at the hands of a mere guard, of all people.
Hwi had shown him just how well a man who knows how to protect can kill when he sets his mind to it. Hwi looked into the Murder King’s transparent eyes as the life faded from them and spoke calmly. Perhaps his words represented the hearts of all guards.
“We simply chose a life of protection.”