Chapter 701: Everyone Knows Their Place, Right?
Chapter 701: Everyone Knows Their Place, Right?
The 17th Gyo was paralyzed with terror.
Their captors were none other than the Faceless Guests—the direct subordinates of the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon.
If they were dragged away by these men, a fate far worse than death surely awaited them.
Normally, assassins carried poison pills hidden in their molars to avoid capture, but the assassins of the Beauty Cult did not. It was a rule established by their leader, Cha Yi-ran.
“If you have the strength to bite down on a poison pill, then grit your teeth and survive until the very end!”
‘I shouldn't have let my guard down.’
No, that wasn't it. Even if she had been perfectly alert, the result would have been the same. An assassin exposed in the light was no different from an ordinary martial artist, and they had been completely ambushed.
‘How on earth did they find us?’
Was there a traitor? Even if someone wanted to betray the cult, they couldn't; the sisters didn't even know where each other lived. Yet, these men had identified them with pinpoint accuracy and come hunting.
It was then.
Preeee—pop, pop-pop-pop!
The sound of fireworks exploding echoed from nearby. It was a firework that emitted a peculiar, rhythmic whistle.
The 17th Gyo and the 5th Gyo exchanged sharp glances. That firework was a signal used by the Beauty Cult to announce a dire emergency. It meant the Faceless Guests were hunting their sisters in other locations as well.
A Faceless Guest leaned his head out of the window, staring toward the source of the signal.
‘How can he not even spare us a glance?’
If he were a normal man, he would have looked at them at least once. Were these people truly raised within the Demonic Cult to be devoid of all human emotion?
Of course, she didn't know. She didn't know just how obsessively the Faceless Guests would stare once they actually started their "work."
The carriage gradually slowed down. Regardless of who was being targeted next, the two assassins had only one prayer.
‘Please, let them have heard the signal!’
Just as the carriage entered a deserted street on the outskirts of town...
Thump, thump!
The Faceless Guest on the driver's seat hammered loudly on the back wall. Suddenly, the carriage accelerated.
Thwack! Thud! Crack!
The sound of projectiles embedding themselves into the wood echoed repeatedly. The moment the Faceless Guest inside pulled back the curtain of the opposite window to look out—
Swoosh!
A hidden weapon whistled through one window and out the other.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The barrage intensified. The carriage lurched violently as it made a sharp, desperate turn. One wheel lifted off the ground, and the vehicle tilted precariously. The Faceless Guest inside shifted to the opposite side, circulating his internal energy to stabilize the weight.
Just as the carriage barely regained its balance—
Boom!
A hidden weapon shaped like a short arrow pierced through the carriage wall. It wasn't an ordinary projectile; it possessed enough power to penetrate thick oak. Its trajectory was aimed directly at the 17th Gyo and the 5th Gyo.
The Faceless Guest swung his dagger, parrying the bolt.
Clang!
The momentum was so great that his wrist throbbed as if the bone might crack, but his intervention forced the weapon off course. The bolt whistled past the back of the women's heads and tore out the other side.
If the Faceless Guest hadn't deflected it, they would both be dead.
At the same time—
Slash!
Another hidden weapon tore through the arm of the Faceless Guest, who had exposed himself at the window to protect them. Blood splattered across the interior, but he didn't even flinch.
Another weapon flew in.
Screeeech!
A projectile longer and heavier than the others shot toward the women. It was faster and more lethal than anything prior. The Faceless Guest grabbed both women and yanked them toward the corner where he had been sitting.
Crash!
The weapon pulverized the spot where they had been sitting a split second ago.
The attacker outside was launching a relentless, indiscriminate assault. The 17th Gyo and the 5th Gyo knew exactly who was responsible.
The 8th Gyo. She was the most proficient hidden weapon specialist within the Beauty Cult.
Of all people, it had to be her. The 8th Gyo was selfish and ruthless—the type to launch an all-out attack even if she knew her own sisters were inside the target.
Clang! Ching!
The Faceless Guest continued to deflect the weapons piercing the carriage. Every single one would have struck the two women, but he blocked them at his own peril.
‘Why is he going to such lengths to keep us alive?’
The 17th Gyo was bewildered. By all accounts, the Faceless Guests were supposed to be the cruelest monsters in the land.
Despite the barrage, the carriage kept moving. The Faceless Guest on the driver's seat steered while using Finger Wind to knock away any projectiles aimed at himself or the horses. His skill in multitasking was nothing short of magnificent.
He hammered on the back wall again, signaling his partner, then brought the carriage to a skidding halt next to a cluster of trees.
The moment the carriage stopped, the Faceless Guest threw open the door, tossed the women out, and leaped after them.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Now that the target was stationary, the hidden weapons struck with terrifying precision. After landing, the Faceless Guest checked the driver's seat. His comrade was already gone, having leaped into the shadows to flank the attacker.
Ping! Whoosh!
A hidden weapon ricocheted off a nearby wall, angling straight for the 17th Gyo's face.
Swish.
The Faceless Guest fired a Finger Wind, knocking the weapon away. He was strictly adhering to Geom Mu-geuk's "joke" about not damaging the merchandise's face.
Just as he tried to shove the two women behind a tree—
Shuaaaaaaaa!
Hidden weapons poured down like a monsoon.
Clang-clang-clang-clang!
The Faceless Guest could have easily dodged to save himself, but he stood his ground in front of the 17th Gyo and the 5th Gyo, deflecting the steel rain. Blood splattered onto his white mask, but he did not retreat an inch.
The two assassins stared silently at his back. They didn't even know who to root for anymore.
‘He can't block it! It's too much!’
What the 8th Gyo was unleashing now wasn't a standard technique. It was the Extinguishing Rain of Death, one of the Murim Alliance's Forbidden Hidden Weapons, reserved only for the most desperate kills.
Blood sprayed from the Faceless Guest's shoulder and waist. Even as his limbs were shredded, he managed to protect his vitals and the women behind him.
Clang!
With one final, crisp sound, the Faceless Guest's arms went limp. He panted heavily, his strength spent. He couldn't block another blow. Even a single dagger would be the end of him.
However, the rain stopped.
When the Faceless Guest looked up, he saw his comrade from the driver's seat standing on a distant roof. A woman lay collapsed at his feet. While one had acted as a shield, the other had neutralized the source.
*
A short while later, three assassins sat side-by-side in the tattered carriage: the 17th Gyo, the 5th Gyo, and now the 8th Gyo.
Only then did the Faceless Guest tend to his wounds. Though none were fatal, the gashes were deep. With an indifferent expression, he pressed his pressure points to staunch the bleeding, applied Golden Wound Medicine, and wrapped himself in bandages.
“Ugh.”
Seeing the Faceless Guest's eyes narrow in pain, the 17th Gyo felt a strange realization—this monster felt pain just like anyone else. His mask was stained dark with the blood he had shed to protect her.
She expected him to retaliate. The 8th Gyo had nearly killed him with Forbidden Hidden Weapons. She expected him to beat her half to death, if not worse.
But the Faceless Guest didn't even utter a curse. He simply stared out the window.
‘What on earth is he thinking?’
The 17th Gyo fell silent, watching the scenery pass through the holes in the broken carriage.
*
The women arrived at the Guest Hall.
Those gathered today were the participants who had made it to the main tournament but failed to make the final cut of seven. They greeted each other, recognizing familiar faces from the competition.
“I never thought I’d be back here.”
“I thought I’d never see this place again.”
This was the same Guest Hall where they had waited during the main tournament.
“We were sitting right here.”
“Back then, I really thought I’d make it to the finals.”
Laughter broke out. There was a strange sense of camaraderie born from shared failure. Once all the women were inside, a martial artist wearing a bamboo hat followed them in and barred the door.
Chief Manager Jo was waiting for them.
“The reason I have called you all here today is for the seating arrangement of the final stage.”
One side of the Guest Hall had been decorated like a stage, with chairs arranged behind it.
“You must check exactly where your seat is today so there are no mistakes on the day of the event. Now, we will begin assigning seats.”
Chief Manager Jo called out names one by one. He seemed more tense and rigid than usual, but the women were too busy focusing on their positions to notice.
“Please come forward and sit where the numbers are marked. The numbers won't be on the chairs during the actual event, so you must memorize your spot.”
One by one, they took their seats and looked toward the stage. Though it was just a rehearsal, the sight of the stage reignited their lingering regrets.
A sigh escaped someone's lips. It was a heavy, mournful sound—a "what if" that echoed in everyone's hearts.
Then, a shrill voice cut through the air.
“You stupid bitch, why are you sighing? You failed because you’re ugly.”
Every eye turned toward the woman who had hurled the insult. She was sitting right next to the one who had sighed. The victim widened her eyes in shock.
“What did you just say?”
“Are you deaf too? You’ve been acting so high and mighty since the preliminaries, and look where it got you. Pathetic.”
Slap!
The woman who had sighed delivered a stinging blow to the other's cheek.
“This bitch dared to hit me?!”
The two women lunged at each other, grabbing hair and screaming. Normally, the others would have tried to break it up, but another woman watching them suddenly shrieked:
“Just kill her already!”
The atmosphere shifted instantly. It wasn't a joke. The woman screamed again, her voice piercing and filled with genuine malice.
The one who insulted, the one who slapped, and the one screaming for blood—none of them were acting normal.
“How low-class,” another woman sneered. “No wonder you pathetic wretches failed. I can't stand being around you.”
A woman in the back row struck her hard on the back of the head.
“You bitch, you’re the most pathetic one here!”
In an instant, the hall descended into chaos. It wasn't a riot with sides; it was a free-for-all. They fought whoever was closest, venting grudges from the tournament or attacking people they had never even spoken to.
Shouting and cursing erupted from every corner. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing all the spite they had kept hidden behind polite smiles. They swung fists, scratched faces, and tore at expensive silks.
Some were biting. Others sat on the floor and burst into hysterical tears. Some insulted each other's parents, while one woman screamed at the top of her lungs that she was the "World’s Most Beautiful Woman."
Chief Manager Jo’s jaw dropped. He had never seen anything like this. No matter how much resentment they held, how could they act like animals? These were the same elegant, refined women he had seen minutes ago. It was as if a collective madness had seized the room.
However, there were women standing perfectly still, watching the scene with cold, detached eyes. It wasn't a contagious disease.
“Stop! I said stop!”
As Chief Manager Jo’s shout echoed through the room—the chaos vanished.
As if by magic, the room fell silent. Even Jo was surprised by how quickly they obeyed. They released collars and let go of hair. The women looked around in confusion, straightening their torn clothes and wiping away nosebleeds.
Their expressions were filled with sudden, crushing embarrassment. What did I just do? Was that really worth fighting over?
“What is the meaning of this behavior?!” Jo scolded.
The women who had been fighting lowered their heads. “We’re sorry...”
Some bowed in apology; others hid their faces in shame. Some even apologized to the very people they had been spitting on moments before.
Then, the bamboo-hatted martial artist standing near the entrance walked forward.
The women were struck with fear. They had caused a brawl right before an important event. The Sinhwa Guild could ruin them.
The man raised his hand and began pointing. He herded specific women to one side. They were all the ones who had been fighting in a frenzy. He also pointed out a few who had been watching silently.
After separating them, the man spoke to Chief Manager Jo.
“Take them out.”
The women were puzzled as they were led away. Normally, wouldn't you keep the troublemakers to punish them and let the peaceful ones stay? Yet, he had dismissed the fighters and a select few others. They couldn't understand his criteria.
Chief Manager Jo led them out without a word of protest.
Now, only twenty women remained in the hall. They looked at each other with grave, knowing expressions.
And for good reason—the people left behind were those who should never have been grouped together in a place like this.
They were the assassins of the Beauty Cult.
The highest-ranking among them, the 3rd Gyo, narrowed her eyes. She couldn't fathom it. In the midst of that manufactured chaos...
‘How on earth did he filter out only us?’
The gazes of the assassins fixed on the bamboo-hatted man. He walked to the center of the room, straightened a chair that had been knocked over, and sat down.
As he slowly removed his bamboo hat, the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon, his face partially obscured by a thin veil, revealed himself.
“Everyone knows their place, right?”
The Smiling Demon’s low, resonant voice echoed through the hall.
“First... why don't you all take a seat.”