Chapter 51. To Where the Wind Blows (1)
'He got away.'
He knocked on the wall several times, but there was no response. It seemed he had successfully escaped.
Na-il moved swiftly yet naturally.
"Who's there?!"
"It's me."
"Whoa! You nearly scared the piss out of me, you bastard!"
"Sorry about that."
"What are you doing here anyway? You're on east wall duty, right?"
"Shift's over. Heading to relieve the next watch."
"Tch, yeah, yeah, you'll manage."
"Haven't eaten all day. My stomach's practically glued to my backbone."
"Sometimes I wonder just how big your heart is. The chief steward's been caught as a spy, and you're not even tense?"
"He's already caught, isn't he? What's there to be tense about?"
"Aigoo, you idiot. Have you ever seen a spy infiltrate alone? There must be backups."
"Backup or not, I don't care. I just need some food."
"People like you... Hand over your badge."
"Here."
"Be careful. On a night like this, that easygoing nature of yours could be poison. Eat quietly and get some rest."
"That bad?"
"You really have no clue. It wasn't just anyone—it was the chief steward! Didn't you see Lord Family Head earlier? His eyes were full of killing intent."
"Hm... yeah, I should watch myself tonight."
"See? You're weird too sometimes."
"Anyway, thanks. I'm off."
"Yeah, rest up."
Na-il clutched his belly and trotted away lightly. The guard watching his retreating figure tilted his head.
"What a strange guy. Even without presence, how can he be this unnoticeable? Must be that mild personality."
A moment later, Na-il entered the mess hall and filled a bowl with cold rice and a few side dishes. Then he hurried back to the barracks with quick steps.
Creak.
Na-il opened the door to the barracks. His body froze instantly.
'......?!'
The barracks were shared by ten men. Yet it was completely empty. Even though four of them should have been passed out drunk by now.
An inexplicable unease made his hair stand on end.
That was when it happened.
"Your rice is all cold."
Na-il felt chills erupt across his entire body.
"I know a good place for food. Wanna go together? Looks like you can at least cover the bill."
"......"
"If not, no big deal."
Yeon Hojeong emerged from the shadows with a cold smile.
"They say ghosts from overeating have the best complexions. No one to hold a funeral for you anyway, so chow down and drop dead."
Whoosh!
A hefty rice bowl flew straight at Yeon Hojeong's face. At the same moment, Na-il's form shot up to the barracks roof like lightning.
"......!!"
Na-il's eyes went wide.
Swish. Swish swish swish.
Beyond the barracks roof, countless warriors appeared atop buildings throughout the inner compound.
What was astonishing was their positions. Each one blocked a potential escape route Na-il had mentally marked for any contingency.
Na-il's eyes wavered.
'H-how?!'
These were paths only spies or assassins would know—routes ideal for retreat that even seasoned veterans wouldn't know without specific training.
And every single one was sealed off.
Darkness closed in before Na-il's eyes.
"I don't feel like bickering with a rat in the dead of night. So I'll say it upfront."
Na-il looked down. Yeon Hojeong stood with his axe slung over his shoulder. The thrown bowl and its contents lay scattered on the ground.
"Your contact in the outer stables—the Cheong-eungdae captain—lost his head to a sword."
"......!!"
"Come down."
He even knew about the contact? Na-il was dumbfounded.
Even in most organizations, they didn't use both spies and contacts. Raising a contact was tough enough, and botched infiltrations had led to countless failures.
But the Yeon family's contact was different. He was a top expert in the field. Contacts inherently faced less risk, making them harder to catch than spies.
Knowing of his existence was miracle enough—how did they pinpoint him in the stables?
Swish.Whoosh.
Na-il descended to the ground. His light steps made no sound even upon landing. It was exquisite lightness skill.
"Who are you?"
"Yeon Hojeong."
Killing intent flickered in Na-il's eyes. He sensed there was no way out.
But he had to know one thing.
"Who told you about the contact?"
"I did."
"You?"
"What's so special about that?"
"You, raised like a flower in a greenhouse, know about spy infiltrations and assassinations?"
Yeon Hojeong smirked.
"If you saw the greenhouse I grew up in, you wouldn't say that."
Spy infiltrations? Assassinations? Contacts? In the black path, these were everyday occurrences. The black path favored over justice, lies over truth—deception was momentary, killing routine.
There were plenty stronger than Na-il in martial arts alone, yet Yeon Hojeong had dominated that mad battlefield of deceit and unified it.
Once you detected their existence, catching spies or contacts was like swatting flies.
Na-il's eyes shook.
"I can't believe it. Are you some kind of shadow spirit or what?!"
"Is that the latest insult trend? Who you gonna compare me to, that shady bastard?"
Thud!
The spear shaft slammed into the ground, sending a powerful shockwave through the area.
"Kneel."
Hiss.
An ominous aura stirred around Na-il's body. Yeon Hojeong nodded.
"Yeah, figured that wouldn't work."
Boom!
Na-il charged. Spies and assassins were masters of lightness skills by trade, training differently from ordinary martial artists.
Thus, Na-il was fast. Faster than any expert Yeon Hojeong had seen since his regression.
Thwack!
The half-fist aimed at the jaw missed. It wasn't blocked—it was deflected.
Na-il finally realized from the response.
'This guy's a pro!'
You never just block a body-trained spy's attack. They always coated their nails with poison gas that didn't vent externally.
Papapapang!
Na-il's assaults continued. Not one-strike kills like Yeon Hojeong's style. A single nail scratch would incapacitate anyway—no need to waste stamina.
His attacks flowed endlessly—an ultimate assassination art requiring extreme endurance, hard to counter once unleashed.
Yet Yeon Hojeong dismantled it effortlessly.
Papapa!
'Impossible.'
Fast, sharp, seamless dark fists—all whiffed.
'How?!'
Yeon Hojeong's responses were so perfunctory they seemed half-hearted. But those casual gestures ruined every insidious strike.
He knew these arts inside out. If he knew, he couldn't fail to counter—or he wouldn't be the Black Dark Emperor.
'Damn it.'
Despair washed over Na-il. He planned to take down the foe, hold him hostage, and escape.
But he couldn't even land a hit.
'I can't win......'
Surrounded on all sides. Charging a master immune to hostage tactics was the worst choice amid the chaos.
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed. A broken spirit meant shaky arts. Na-il's dark fists lost their edge.
Whoosh!
Yeon Hojeong swept at Na-il's lower body with his long leg. Broken mind or not, it was a hard angle to block.
Crack!
"Kuhk!"
Na-il's face paled. His right knee buckled inward. Shattered.
"Sloppy as expected."
Na-il looked up at Yeon Hojeong, who raised the axe high with both hands.
"Not even biting down on a poison pill? What gave you that confidence?"
Kwaang!
"Kwaaak!"
One brutal axe swing severed the leg. Na-il shrieked, convulsed several times, then passed out.
Yeon Hojeong gazed coldly at the sky. The moonlight was clear.
"This side's done, Father."
* * *
"Hah! Hah!"
Taekyeong's body, racing through the dense forest, was soaked in sweat. He had some internal energy cultivation, but little actual martial training.
Yet his pace was swift.
'Faster, faster!'
Locked in solitary once, it would take time to reopen. But he couldn't be sure. His past life had been too harsh for gambles on uncertainty.
He couldn't relax until he was out of Jiangsu Province at least.
'At minimum, reach the first safehouse!'
Fortunately, he knew the terrain like the back of his hand. No spy worth their salt was dispatched without memorizing maps.
How long had he run? The crest of a low hill loomed ahead.
Over this, and he'd hit the grove by the official road. The Moyong family had poured resources into a safehouse there.
"Hah! Hah!"
Downhill from here. Much faster than uphill.
As Taekyeong caught his breath to start again—
"Is that all you've got?"
Snap!
The crack of a branch echoed loudly. The one under Taekyeong's foot.
His sweat-drenched face drained of color.
"Was that pathetic display worth fooling me and lurking for nearly a decade?"
Taekyeong's hands trembled. He slowly turned.
Crunch.
A middle-aged man stepped from behind a massive tree. Tall and lean. A plain longsword hung at his left waist, unadorned.
The sword might be ordinary, but his eyes were anything but. Pinnacle of indifference. Zenith of ruthlessness.
"......Family Head."
"At least you still call me Family Head."
Taekyeong closed his eyes.
'It's over.'
Yeon Wi was among the top martial artists of the Seven Great Families. Escaping a transcendent peak expert's grasp? Impossible for Taekyeong.
He looked at Yeon Wi. Under the cold moonlight, those eyes gleamed with pure terror. Even a beast's gaze wouldn't chill like that.
"I... I just..."
"Just?"
"Just wanted to make my name known to the world."
"With such filthy deeds?"
Taekyeong shouted despite himself.
"What does the method matter for fame in the world?! Not everyone's like you! You, born and raised in the Yeon family shell—you'll never understand me!"
"I have no need to understand you."
Taekyeong bit his lip.
"Let me go."
"Can't do that."
"I wasn't the only spy in the Yeon family! There are others besides me...!"
"Brain prison guard Na-il, stables manager Jang-hak."
"......!!"
"Anyone else?"
"How did you...?!"
Yeon Wi's eyes deepened.
"You underestimated my son far too much."
Only then did Taekyeong realize. Yeon Hojeong had lied to him until the end. Deceived him right up to the brain prison.
"Any last words?"
"You... you son of a bitch!!"
Slash!
Taekyeong's head hit the ground. Yeon Wi glared coldly at it.
"I asked if you had last words. Never said you could insult my son."