Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: The Assassins' Forest
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On the outskirts of Hell Island, in a deep forest.
*Clang! Shrrring!*
With every slash of a weapon through the air, a series of ear-splitting metallic shrieks echoed.
—*Guuh, gyaaaaargh!*
It was followed by a heart-wrenching scream that shook the forest.
The lives of incomparably young and talented prodigies were being scattered like petals in the wind.
Hell Island.
Just one day after the third trial began, this remote island had literally become a hell.
“Damn it!”
A young man, Ga Un-seong, collapsed amidst a sea of blood and corpses, his hands clawing at the ground.
“Ugh…”
Though his lack of talent had kept him in the intermediate halls of the Hyeol-yeom-do-ga and Baek-ma-sa, he had friends and comrades who shared his aspirations.
“We promised… we’d all survive and become Sip-ma-jeon-in…”
Instead of engaging in the deadly free-for-all, Ga Un-seong and his companions had hidden in the outer forest.
But they had all been slaughtered by shadows lurking within the trees.
The trainees of the Geuk-sal-mil-gak.
Also known as the Sal-gak, or Killing Pavilion, the Geuk-sal-mil-gak was the grandmaster of the assassin sects among the Ten Demonic Sects.
The killing arts of the Sal-gak were known to be so cruel and bizarre that even a child who learned them could easily slay a seasoned martial artist.
“To slaughter those who don’t even fight back… Are you even human?!”
Ga Un-seong’s desperate cry was met with silence.
They were probably hiding in the darkness, watching him silently, like observing a dying insect.
That was the way of assassins.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked at the cold, mangled corpses of his friends.
“You all died… trying to protect me.”
Even in the brutal Sip-ma-jeon-in tournament, loyalty and friendship existed.
His comrades had died gruesome deaths trying to protect him, the weakest among them.
Wiping away his tears, he slowly pushed himself up. But just as he reached for his sword,
*Thwip. Thunk.*
With a sharp whistle, something sharp buried itself deep into his left thigh.
“Aargh!”
Ga Un-seong cried out in agony and crumpled to the ground.
“Ugh…”
He looked down to see a sharp, whittled wooden stake lodged deep in his thigh.
An assassin, watching from the darkness, had thrown a hidden weapon the moment he’d reached for his sword.
“Ugh…”
Clenching his teeth, Ga Un-seong glared into the darkened forest and screamed.
“I’ll kill you all!”
*Shunk.*
He reached down and pressed the stake in his thigh even deeper.
Rather than let it sit shallowly and bleed out, he drove it all the way in to stanch the bleeding.
“I swear it!”
His eyes, sweeping over his surroundings, were a maelstrom of rage and resentment.
“I’ll sell my soul! I’ll become a ghost! I will have my revenge on you!”
*Rustle.*
With a low sound, dark shadows began to appear one by one in front of him.
Their movements were silent and stealthy, as if they had been there all along. They looked like grim reapers come to deliver death, but…
“Come on!”
Ga Un-seong’s expression was almost welcoming as he twisted his grip on his sword.
***
*Whoosh.*
A desolate wind swept gently across the outskirts of Hell Island.
Night had fallen, cloaking everything in black. A lone shadow walked with the faintly glowing moon at his back. It was Bu Eun-seol.
*Step, step.*
His expression was utterly serene as he walked through Hell Island, where death descended at every moment.
*Drip, drip, drip.*
Blood dripped from the iron sword in his hand.
For three days, Bu Eun-seol had roamed the island, cutting down countless people with his blade.
“I’m tired.”
Bu Eun-seol gazed at the distant sky and muttered calmly.
His expression gave no hint that he had just been engaged in a desperate, bloody battle.
As the brutal slaughter continued, many trainees were losing their minds, but Bu Eun-seol’s spirit remained clear.
He had made a living of looking upon dead bodies every day.
After his grandfather, Bu Jan-yang, died, even the line between life and death had blurred for him.
He didn’t feel alive, nor did he feel any closer to death.
Bu Eun-seol was simply breathing, moving, and living each day for the sole purpose of catching the fiend who had harmed his grandfather.
“Still…”
Bu Eun-seol looked down at his right hand, stained with blood to the tips of his fingernails.
“I’ve gotten a little stronger.”
Since leaving the Hwa-u-geom-mun’s training hall, he hadn’t been pushed back in a single direct confrontation.
He could now freely adapt the Thirteen Forms of Flower Rain and the Flower Rain Thunderclap Sword, techniques once deemed unusable in real combat.
With a sword in his hand, he felt he could even slice the neck of a grim reaper.
—I’ll kill you all!
Just then, a desperate shout echoed from deep within the forest.
It was the cry of a wounded beast.
Bu Eun-seol’s eyes, which had been moving toward his sword hilt, grew distant.
He wasn’t so bloodthirsty as to cut down someone trembling in pain, consumed by vengeance and grief.
“Hmph.”
As Bu Eun-seol turned to leave, pretending he had heard nothing, another agonized cry reached his ears.
—I’ll sell my soul, I’ll become a ghost, I will have my revenge on you!
*Halt.*
The gut-wrenching roar stopped Bu Eun-seol in his tracks.
Revenge. The word, steeped in bitter resentment and blood, pierced his heart.
After a moment of gazing up at the deep night sky, he began to walk toward the source of the sound.
*Step, step.*
Walking with a steady gait, Bu Eun-seol suddenly stopped.
“…”
He stared blankly at the night sky for a moment, then,
*CRACK!*
He suddenly slammed his fist into a large tree beside him.
*Shhhhh.*
The tree shuddered, its leaves rustling against each other.
At the same time, a faint vibration spread out in concentric circles. Bu Eun-seol’s eyes began to glow with a strange light as his pupils dilated.
Using the earth-reading technique, he had vibrated the tree to expand the senses of his Yasu-do.
*Whoosh!*
A fierce glint shot out from the darkness.
But Bu Eun-seol’s body had already retreated three yards away.
*Th-th-th-thunk!*
In his place, dozens of wooden stakes slammed into the ground in rapid succession.
“What?”
A gasp of astonishment came from a bush about a hundred feet away as Bu Eun-seol easily dodged the hidden weapons.
Realizing his mistake, the ambusher tried to flee.
*Shing.*
But Bu Eun-seol had already drawn his iron sword and blocked the escape route.
*Swish, swish.*
A flurry of swift sword strikes rained down upon the bushes.
“Gack.”
With a choked gasp, a black shadow emerged from the foliage.
The figure, clad in an assassin’s uniform and a mask, trembled as he muttered.
“To think you could so easily dodge a hidden weapon technique launched with the art of Man-geop-gwang-eum…”
But his words were cut short.
*Drip.*
A faint line of blood had already been drawn from his shoulder to his waist by Bu Eun-seol’s sword.
*Thud.*
The man in the assassin’s uniform breathed his last.
“Your hiding spot was flawed.”
Muttering under his breath, Bu Eun-seol suddenly spun his sword and plunged it into the ground beneath his feet like a bolt of lightning.
*Thunk.*
With a dull thud, blood erupted from the ground like a fountain.
An assassin hiding beneath Bu Eun-seol’s feet died instantly, his skull pierced before he could even scream.
“You bastard!”
This time, a furious shout came from the tree above, followed by a shower of hidden weapons.
But Bu Eun-seol’s Yasu-do had already detected the ambusher’s position and posture as he launched his attack.
*Whoosh.*
Effortlessly dodging the projectiles, Bu Eun-seol leaped into the air and swung his sword at the tree.
With a series of swishes, a masked man in an assassin’s uniform dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
“Are you an assassin too?”
“An assassin?”
“To see through our stealth and concealment, you must be from a skilled killing sect.”
The masked man tilted his head, studying Bu Eun-seol.
“Why didn’t you come to the Geuk-sal-mil-gak?”
‘So he was trained by the Geuk-sal-mil-gak.’
Bu Eun-seol’s eyes narrowed as he realized the masked man was a trainee from the Killing Pavilion.
Assassins, who were typically weak in true energy, were inevitably at a disadvantage in a direct fight.
But the killing arts of the Geuk-sal-mil-gak taught not only stealth techniques but also orthodox swordplay and hidden weapon arts, making their practitioners formidable in head-on combat as well.
“I know nothing of assassin techniques.”
The masked man scoffed as Bu Eun-seol shook his head.
“Don’t lie. You’re telling me you saw through my pavilion’s Geum-geuk-eun-yeong-sul, an art that even masters of the martial world have trouble detecting?”
The Yasu-do, a hypersensory art that could even detect shifts in the air currents.
It was the perfect counter to assassins, who relied on hiding in secret places to attack or launching lightning-fast ambushes.
“I don’t care.”
Bu Eun-seol’s hand moved to his sword hilt, his expression indifferent.
He intended to gauge his skills through a direct confrontation with an assassin trained by the Geuk-sal-mil-gak.
“Wait!”
Staring into Bu Eun-seol’s cold, still eyes, the masked man held up his hands.
“There’s no need to settle this right now. Let’s postpone this fight.”
Bu Eun-seol’s gaze didn’t waver.
Sensing that he was about to strike like lightning, the masked man’s eyes grew urgent.
“There are still countless others on this island. We, who have mastered the arts of assassination, have been silently dealing with anyone who comes into this forest.”
The eyes behind the mask narrowed into thin slits as he stared at Bu Eun-seol.
“If we take care of the others, that means fewer competitors for you… isn’t that a good thing?”
Still, Bu Eun-seol’s hand on his sword hilt remained motionless.
It was as good as declaring his intent to kill.
Realizing this, the masked man spoke with a venomous glare.
“My comrades are hidden throughout this forest. If you insist on facing me…”
But he never finished his sentence.
Bu Eun-seol’s iron sword shot out like a flash of lightning, aiming for the masked man’s throat.
“You bastard!”
Not expecting him to attack so suddenly, the masked man let out a shocked cry and quickly executed his footwork.
*Swish, swish, swish, swish!*
He shifted his position forty-three times, leaving faint afterimages, but he still couldn’t escape the sword strike.
“What kind of swordplay is this?”
Instead of answering, Bu Eun-seol shifted from the eighth form of the Thirteen Forms of Flower Rain, Pung-un-man-ri, to the twelfth form of the Flower Rain Thunderclap Sword, Kwae-ui-dang-jeon.
He was freely using the Thirteen Forms of Flower Rain and the Flower Rain Thunderclap Sword, techniques that were supposedly impossible to use in a real fight.
“Grk.”
With no way to dodge, the masked man drew his black sword again.
*Clang!*
As the iron and black swords clashed, sparks flew, and Bu Eun-seol’s body swayed slightly.
“Die!”
Spotting an opening, the masked man shouted in triumph and thrust his sword toward Bu Eun-seol’s neck and lower abdomen.
*Shudder.*
At that moment, Bu Eun-seol’s iron sword trembled minutely, creating dozens of sword images.
As a flurry of sword strikes unfolded like scattering flower blossoms, blood spurted from the masked man’s body.
“Ugh.”
Barely avoiding a fatal wound, the masked man scrambled backward.
“You fearsome bastard. You created that opening on purpose.”
Revealing an opening while clashing swords was something only a novice would do.
Convinced he could never beat Bu Eun-seol with true energy alone, the masked man backed away.
*Piiik.*
He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle, and a rustling sound came from the distance.
It was the signal to summon his hidden comrades.
“Hehehe. You refuse a toast only to drink the penalty. You leave me no choice.”
The masked man, now at a distance, spoke with an arrogant voice.
“Soon, my comrades gathered in this forest will be here.”
Feeling the rustling sound grow closer, the masked man shouted with confidence.
“It’s useless to try and run!”
But Bu Eun-seol just stood there, his expression placid, not moving a muscle.
The masked man, who had expected him to make a hasty escape, stared with wide eyes at this unexpected turn of events.
“Why… aren’t you running?”
“Run?”
Bu Eun-seol asked back, his face impassive.
“Do you think someone who runs can become a Sip-ma-jeon-in?”
At that moment, it felt as if a flash of white light had pierced through the masked man’s mind.
Becoming a Sip-ma-jeon-in was a chance to ascend to the right hand of the supreme master of the demonic path.
Would a prodigy of unparalleled martial arts, one who aimed for the very pinnacle of the demonic path, ever run from a fight like this?
“I see… someone who flees from a crisis could never become a Sip-ma-jeon-in.”
The masked man finally understood.
The skinny young man standing before him was a prodigy with more than enough qualification to claim a seat among the Sip-ma-jeon-in.
And he, along with his comrades hidden in the forest, would not survive this battle.