Jang Cheon's Price (1)
"That's an impossible demand."
The organization's representative coming in person? It was absurd.
Even Raymond, who was one of them, had never laid eyes on the boss. He didn't even know if the boss was a man or a woman, young or old.
As far as he knew, only a handful of the highest echelons knew the boss's face.
"Then you can't hire me. Go home and be grateful I let you live today."
As Jang Cheon turned away, Raymond called out loudly from behind.
"Mr. Jang Cheon, I know full well how strong you really are."
Jang Cheon paused, and Raymond spoke rapidly in a trembling voice.
"But if you refuse our offer, you'll die here today."
Jang Cheon turned back toward Raymond without hesitation.
"I refuse."
The moment Jang Cheon's words ended!
Bang! Crack!
A gunshot rang out, bullets slamming into the ground and kicking up dirt. The shots had been aimed at Jang Cheon's head, but he'd tilted it aside to dodge.
Raymond was a high expert himself, but even he couldn't have evaded a sniper round that suddenly and so effortlessly.
Bang! Bang!
More shots followed in quick succession.
Jang Cheon shifted sideways again, dodging the bullets.
Watching this, Raymond's heart pounded like it might burst.
Even while evading bullets, Jang Cheon kept his eyes fixed on him—calm as ever amid the chaos.
There wasn't just one sniper. There were three: one behind Raymond and one each on the rooftops to the left and right.
This was a halted construction site, plenty of spots for snipers to hide.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets kept coming, but Jang Cheon dodged them lightly, as if demonstrating for a tutorial.
Bang! Bang! Baaang! Bang! Bang!
The snipers ramped up their fire rate.
Then Jang Cheon swung his sword, deflecting the bullets. Deflecting was harder than dodging—especially with them coming so fast and furious.
The ricocheted bullets flew off in all directions, embedding harmlessly. A stray one could have hit Raymond if luck went sour.
But not a single one veered his way. Watching Jang Cheon maintain that steady gaze even as he batted bullets aside, Raymond realized: he was deliberately angling them away to protect him.
By now, when the snipers had picked up speed, it was clear they didn't care about Raymond's life. Their orders were solely to kill Jang Cheon.
Realizing this drained the strength from Raymond's body. He couldn't even dream of ambushing Jang Cheon now. Gratitude welled up instead.
Having shown enough, it seemed, Jang Cheon drew a throwing star from his left sleeve while still deflecting incoming fire.
He flung it casually.
Whiiing!
It streaked away faster than any human throw should allow.
As it vanished into a building, gunfire from that direction ceased.
Raymond knew: the sniper was dead.
Fwing!
Another star flew off in a different direction. Same result—the moment doubt crept in about how it reached so far, the shots stopped.
Whiiiiiing!
The third spun wide, likely tracking a sniper who'd shifted position.
No more bullets came. Jang Cheon had taken out all three snipers—hidden in spots invisible to the naked eye—using nothing but throwing stars.
"Haaah..."
Raymond let out a long sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He'd witnessed it all from point-blank range. Up close, Jang Cheon's prowess hit home.
Deflecting bullets and killing snipers with stars were feats of the divine, but what stood out more was his composure.
That relaxed gaze screamed this was far from his limit.
So he wanted to warn the Drake Team leaping down from the building.
'No! You can't win!'
But the masked operatives were already descending with agile lightness skills.
The Drake Team.
Professional killers cultivated by the organization—and among them, Drake was a special unit.
They'd entered Korea separately on different flights, just like Raymond.
Jang Cheon spoke to him.
"Since you tried to kill me, I'll charge ten times the original price.
Call your superior right now and relay my words. Tell them not to kill me but to win me over. Otherwise, it'll cost far more."
Raymond couldn't fathom why.
"Call. If it comes to hiring me anyway, pretending to dissuade me now will save you from blame later.
I want you as the go-between linking me to your organization."
Raymond stared at Jang Cheon for a moment, then pulled out his phone. His survival instincts from years in the organization kicked in.
Listening to Jang Cheon now seemed wise. Insane, but informed by witnessing his power up close.
And he'd spared his life, too.
"Yes, it's me. I've met Jang Cheon. I have urgent news regarding..."
The Drake Team stepped forward. From the looks of it, if they missed their window, they might have to withdraw without even engaging.
They didn't answer to Raymond. Failing to kill Jang Cheon meant punishment for them.
Seven masked members in the Drake Team.
Specializing in joint assaults, they always moved as one. All wielded swords to maximize linked sword techniques.
Even if one fell, another filled the gap seamlessly.
They surrounded Jang Cheon, taking positions. Experienced veterans, they sensed his perilous aura even without seeing him deflect bullets.
The left and right flankers moved first, attacking simultaneously from both sides.
Determining who struck first would require frame-by-frame analysis like a sports photo finish. That's how well-drilled they were.
Shiiiik!
Even the sword winds blended into one.
Left aimed for the head, right for the waist.
If the foe dodged front or back, they'd twist into a horizontal slash. Most fell to this one move.
But Jang Cheon didn't oblige. He spun toward the right flanker instead.
The incoming sword grazed past his waist by a hair.
His own blade sliced the mask's throat precisely.
Jang Cheon spun once more, shoving the collapsing body forward.
It slammed into the left attacker; using it as a shield, Jang Cheon charged in.
Shiiiik. Pffuk!
His sword pierced the left man's throat. Too fast, too erratic—no chance to block.
Two down in a blink.
He gave the remaining five no time to recover.
Springing forward, he rushed them.
The masks thrust at him. Trained to respond over panic or fear.
But no amount of grueling drills or precise teamwork bridged certain gaps.
They targeted vitals perfectly, certain he'd be skewered.
Yet just before their blades hit, Jang Cheon slipped away in an impossible blind spot.
A flash of sword light cleaved the frontal attacker; as he crumpled lifeless, Jang Cheon's blade impaled another's heart.
They tried, but his sword was too swift. The thought to dodge formed as cold steel already tore flesh.
Hidden weapons flew from behind.
Ping! Ping!
The mask had thrown one with all his might, yet two winds sounded.
Thud!
The thrower's forehead sprouted a star as he toppled. The dead man's missed dart sailed harmlessly past Jang Cheon.
This was when Raymond, mid-call, grasped the situation.
Not even a full exchange, and five were dead.
He'd expected to watch the real fight after hanging up.
"...Yes? Oh, sorry. A fight's breaking out... No. My apologies."
Raymond fumbled. How could he not? Another fell even as he spoke.
'Even so, this skill gap...'
Before the thought finished, the last mask sprayed blood from his chest, collapsing like a movie scene.
Drake Team were specials. But now, they didn't even measure up to normals.
If not for seeing Jang Cheon calmly deflect bullets up close, Raymond might've thought they'd swapped with scrubs.
But he knew better. They hadn't changed—the bar for "special" was just different.
"...No. I'm still here. I'll call back. Sorry."
Raymond hung up. Like Guan Yu beheading an enemy before his wine cooled, the special team was wiped before the call ended.
He knew for sure now: Jang Cheon's strength surpassed his expectations.
Jang Cheon asked, breath steady as ever.
"Did you speak?"
"I called, but... couldn't really talk."
"Report properly to your superior. Price is ten times higher, but I'm still open to your offer."
"Ten times is how much?"
"Sorry, but only someone authorized to pay will hear that."
"I'll say it again: the representative can't come."
"Then bring someone who can speak for them."
"Why spare me?"
"Smart brokers make deals smooth. You can handle the bodies, right?"
Raymond nodded, and Jang Cheon left promptly.
Raymond's subordinate rushed over from afar.
"You okay?"
"Do I look okay?"
"Sorry."
"Contact the cleanup crew for the bodies."
"Got it."
Raymond gazed at the strewn corpses. It all felt like a dream. Surviving was a miracle, though.
"How'd it go?"
"Yes. Phone trace successful. But couldn't pinpoint exact location—just the general area."
Raymond never imagined they were tracking his call via satellite. Two reasons for making him dial: signal intent to join, and trace the line.
"Where?"
"Vladivostok."
"Russian military."
Actor had come from a UK theater troupe. Meaning, an international outfit.
"Might be bigger than we first thought."
Bishop smiled at Jang Cheon's unshakable confidence, no matter the foe.
"Doesn't matter. Big or small, sever the head or heart, and it dies."
"I'll scour Russian intel lines for anything we can dig up."
"Good. This time, we infiltrate their core."