City of Sword-Wielders - Chapter 61: The True Colors of the Wicked Woman (2)
Choi Ga quietly opened the door to the master bedroom and slipped inside.
He wasn't a martial artist affiliated with Dae-jeong-san-jang. He was a subordinate personally retained by An Bae-su.
Moreover, he wasn't specialized in martial arts. He was a special contract killer who disguised murders as suicides or accidents.
His fabricated suicides and accidents were so flawless that even thorough investigations couldn't uncover any evidence of foul play.
Yang Do-hwa was asleep in bed.
Choi Ga tapped her cheek to wake her. She jolted awake in surprise.
"Shh. Scream, and you're dead."
At the low warning, Yang Do-hwa nodded.
"Get up slowly and follow me."
Choi didn't seal her pressure points. Doing so right before killing could leave traces postmortem. Choi pursued perfection in his work.
She followed him out in her pajamas. Three more men waited in the living room, and her eyes widened at the sight of one.
"You?"
"Noona!"
The young man, decked out in flashy style, was a host she'd once fooled around with.
"Why are you here?"
"They dragged me here. I thought you called me?"
"What?"
Yang Do-hwa's face twisted in terror as she looked around at them.
Choi pulled something from his pocket. The powder in the small plastic bag was drugs.
"What are you planning to do with that!"
Choi answered her shrill question flatly.
"Yang Do-hwa, who went on TV pleading her innocence, dies of overdose at a drug party with her young lover. Sound like a story the press would eat up?"
"You're insane! You think the world will buy that bullshit? You bastards came from Dae-jeong-san-jang, didn't you? Admit it!"
Choi just smirked. He could have humored a dying woman with a word, but he never revealed who sent him.
Yang Do-hwa, however, was convinced it was them.
"U Myeong-hwan! That crazy old bastard! The head of a righteous sect pulling this heaven-defying shit?"
"Pot calling the kettle black. Didn't your people wipe out the Jang Sword Clan?"
"What?"
As she opened her mouth to scream, Choi unleashed a terrifying aura.
"Do as you're told. Unless you want your son dead too."
She flinched.
Her eyes burned with hatred as she glared at Choi, then spoke softly.
"Fine. Just tell me one thing. I deserve to know who I'm dying to."
"What's the point when you're about to die anyway?"
Choi approached with a syringe.
"You really won't tell me?"
"Can't understand it. Why does it matter at a time like this?"
"So I can come back as a ghost and get revenge."
"No such thing as ghosts. If there were, I wouldn't sleep a wink."
"Tell me."
Choi felt a flicker of unease.
"Why are you so damn curious?"
"To haunt them as a ghost..."
"No. There's something more. Why beg for your life? Why demand to know who sent us?"
Choi stared hard at Yang Do-hwa.
Her panicked expression suddenly calmed.
What the hell?
His sense of dread surged just then.
Swoosh.
A razor-sharp blade pressed against Choi's throat from behind.
"Turn around slowly if you don't want your head cut off."
Choi turned slowly. Swords were now at the throats of his companions as well, held by a group of men.
No matter how distracted he'd been by Yang Do-hwa, he was still a martial artist who'd passed the BST. For him to miss their approach meant they were far superior.
Yang Do-hwa's cold voice came from behind.
"Now you get why I asked? So I'd know who to get revenge on."
Choi looked at the man holding the sword to him. The killing intent along the blade intensified. In despair, he spat one word.
"Damn it!"
Shiiik! Slash!
The four initial intruders' heads flew off simultaneously, bodies crumpling.
It was a horrific scene too terrifying to watch, but Yang Do-hwa showed no surprise. She went further.
"You fucking dogs, daring to try and kill me?"
She stomped on Choi's corpse's face.
Thud! Thud!
The men grimaced slightly. No matter how furious, it wasn't easy for an ordinary person to do that.
She didn't spare a glance at the host she'd once slept with—no pity, no regret.
The man who'd killed Choi handed her a phone.
"Take it."
Yang Do-hwa answered.
"Ms. Yang Do-hwa?"
"Thank you. Just like you said, U Myeong-hwan sent killers after me."
"Listen carefully from now on."
Surprisingly, the voice belonged to Actor. He'd defied orders to halt all activities in Korea and submit to investigation to save her.
"It's dangerous there. Follow the men I sent and get out of the house for now."
"Okay, I'll do as you say. But I need to meet you right now."
"They'll guide you to me."
With that, Actor hung up.
Yang Do-hwa handed the phone back, and the man said,
"Change clothes and pack light. We leave in three minutes."
"Got it."
Yang Do-hwa went back to the master bedroom. As if she'd anticipated this, a small suitcase was already packed.
She showed no fear, changing clothes without hesitation.
Jang Cheon listened to Bishop's report from the rooftop, watching the cars depart. Yang Do-hwa was among those boarding one.
He'd reviewed all the CCTV footage Bishop sent on his phone from the roof.
He'd seen the second group slaughter the first intruders.
He'd seen Yang Do-hwa stomp on the corpse but hadn't intervened. Acquiring the footage was harvest enough.
The first intruders were surely from Dae-jeong-san-jang.
Facial and behavioral recognition would reveal them, linking back to the sect—proof they'd targeted Yang Do-hwa.
What intrigued Jang Cheon were the second group.
Who sent them, and how did they know to rescue her?
Jang Cheon leaped from the rooftop. His plummeting body slowed at the last moment.
From over twenty stories up, he landed lightly—like a CG scene with wires erased.
Phone Express waited at the street below. They called it the Five Brothers Express now, but to Jang Cheon, it was always Phone Express.
He climbed in.
"Boss."
"Phone."
The four in the back greeted the long-absent Jang Cheon.
"Boss!"
"Been well?"
"Yes!"
Amid their vigorous reply, Jang Cheon issued the order.
"Follow the car with Yang Do-hwa."
Bishop's tracking device was already active on the moving van's navigation screen.
"We're off."
Phone floored the accelerator.
Racing down a desolate road lit only by streetlamps, Jang Cheon gazed at the glittering city skyline in the distance.
Silent as ever, but his eyes now burned with passion, vitality, and a glimpse of the future.
Beep, beep, beep.
The navigation's red dot closed in steadily.
Before the night ended, his grudge with Yang Do-hwa would conclude.
Bulldog startled emerging from the bathroom.
Actor was on a call—in his seat, no less.
"What the hell? Forgot the no-phone rule during investigation?"
Actor shushed him and continued.
"They'll guide you to me."
He hung up—it had been Yang Do-hwa.
Instead of rising, Actor eyed Bulldog's laptop screen.
"What are you doing?"
Bulldog lunged in fury, but Actor, still staring at the screen, aimed a silenced pistol his way.
Bulldog froze in shock. Neither was a martial artist—making the gun the ultimate threat.
"You gone mad?"
"Yeah, mad. You drove me to it."
"Get away from the screen! That's classified beyond your clearance!"
Bulldog took a step forward, sure it was just intimidation—no real shot.
Actor turned, barrel to his face.
"Think about why it's silenced."
Bulldog flinched. He might actually fire here.
"Sit on the sofa."
Bulldog complied.
He'd always locked the computer—password, fingerprint, iris—even for bathroom breaks.
But this one lapse, and disaster struck.
No time for self-recrimination. If Actor planned betrayal, a gun to the head would've forced it anyway.
"What do you want?"
"Just reading. Curious what you wrote about me."
"You're crazy?"
"You asked that already. I answered why."
Despite the massive breach, Actor remained nonchalant—unsettling Bulldog deeply.
Bulldog forced politeness.
"Stop here. Go further, and I can't save you."
Actor smirked.
"Stopping won't save me anyway. Right?"
"You know the consequences of killing an investigator."
"I do. That's why you're still breathing. Day one, you'd be dead otherwise."
Finishing the file, Actor stared at Bulldog in disbelief.
"You really didn't hold back."
"Misunderstanding. That's a draft. I'll finalize the report later."
"You've worked hard. I'll tidy it up."
Bulldog stayed silent.
As Actor set the gun aside to type, he glanced over.
"Not stopping me?"
"You're doing it anyway."
"Not that. You know tampering won't help."
"What?"
"You investigators have your own report format. Deviate once, and it flags for audit."
Bulldog's eyes widened.
"How'd you know?"
"Fourth investigation from you lot. I must've beaten one properly—learned the format then."
"You crazy son of a bitch!"
Actor snatched the gun.
"Too noisy to focus."
Bulldog knew. He wouldn't be spared.
"If I'd given you a good review, then what?"
"Would I have let a clueless idiot get this far?"
Pfft! Pfft!
One to the forehead, one to the chest. Bulldog died instantly.
Actor eyed the corpse briefly.
He'd crossed the line. The stage had shifted from small theater to grand.
Before loneliness hit, he began editing the report.
Not making it glowing—Bulldog wouldn't. Just enough to avoid suspicion: lowered the disciplinary level, added one line. The key one.
Investigation results indicate a need for special scrutiny on the individual Jang Cheon. Matter is highly urgent and critical; will conduct further probe before departure.
Investigator addendums weren't rare. This pinned Bulldog's death on Jang Cheon.
Another investigator would come later—he'd deal then.
He uploaded the revised file.
The door opened; his personal subordinates entered—not organization men, but ones he'd groomed himself.
Like those sent to Yang Do-hwa. Cultivated for crises, now paying off.
"Cremate the body. Burn everything else—nothing left."
"Understood."
"Yang Do-hwa?"
"En route here."
Actor leaned on the sofa, silently watching them haul Bulldog's body away.