Confronting the Gold Needle Sword
When Namgoong Juhee had just sliced through the fifth Peak realm expert wielding the Gold Needle Sword, the stalker bastards found themselves in quite a perilous spot too.
One of the merchant leader's twisted hobbies was playing with fish that were already hooked.
And among those fish were Hwangbo Un and Yi Hayeon, so after leaving their room, they had to endure relentless ambushes that demanded constant countermeasures.
In dealing with those attacks, they naturally picked up a few pieces of information. One was that the enemies they faced belonged to the Gold Needle Corps, a direct unit under the merchant leader.
"Gold Needle Corps? The armed force led by the Gold Needle Sword?"
"That's right! I thought we crushed them back in Wuchang..."
Suddenly, Hayeon recalled the first time she met Namgoong Juhee.
Back then, Hayeon had planned to use Namgoong Juhee as a sacrificial pawn to hold off the Gold Needle Corps in Wuchang.
In the end, she failed to recruit her, but afterward, Hayeon did manage to smash the Gold Needle Corps in Wuchang.
She had even told Namgoong Juhee about it.
Though Juhee had just yawned through it, so she probably didn't remember.
"...Isn't that bad? I hear the Gold Needle Sword is one of the Hundred Great Masters of the world."
"Seventy-second rank. If we're talking pure skill, she might rank even higher."
"And you can say that knowing that?!"
Hwangbo Un roughly grabbed Hayeon's shoulder.
Hayeon looked back at him with an oddly detached expression.
"Don't worry. Does Hee seem like someone who'd die that easily?"
"Then?"
"She must've run away for sure. She doesn't treasure me as much as I treasure her, after all."
"..."
"You know it too, Hwangbo young master. How Hee consciously pushes us away. She might even see this as a chance to cut ties."
Hwangbo Un had no reply to Hayeon's words.
Even if running didn't make sense, he had vaguely felt the same as Hayeon.
Namgoong Juhee was undeniably cheerful and without pretense.
She couldn't stand malice and her thoughts spilled out unfiltered.
But sometimes, the two couldn't shake the feeling that it was all a facade she created.
Especially when she drank—Juhee looked like a mirage about to vanish any second.
In those moments, Namgoong Juhee deliberately avoided people's eyes and deep conversations.
Then she'd hole up in her room for a full day before emerging again.
Wearing her cheerful mask once more.
"You're overthinking it, Yi Sojeo."
"But..."
"Namgung Sojeo isn't like that. She's ridiculous, sure, but she always keeps her word. You know that better than anyone."
Even so, Hwangbo Un steeled himself.
To him, Namgoong Juhee was his lifesaver.
She had also opened new horizons for him as a martial artist.
The same went for Hayeon.
From the start, Hayeon saw Namgoong Juhee as family—or more.
Her existence wasn't something to take lightly.
"It doesn't matter what Namgung Sojeo thinks of us. If the opponent's dangerous, we need to find her even faster."
"...You're right."
"So focus. Track the Pursuers' Fragrance and locate Namgung Sojeo. Worst case, if she ran, that's great—we can just bolt down the same path."
Hayeon nodded quietly.
And she prayed.
That Juhee didn't care for them much, just as she thought.
That she'd fled far away to safety long ago.
The reality for Namgoong Juhee was the exact opposite.
.
.
.
Namgoong Juhee knew she was strong.
It wasn't some protagonist buff.
She knew better than anyone that it was the result of exceptional talent and bone-grinding effort.
"Impressive. You're quite the catch, Namgoong Juhee."
She also knew that if she didn't run, she'd die here.
Especially with the ominous aura emanating from the man now speaking to her.
Every cell in her body screamed danger.
"No wonder the merchant leader summoned me."
Yet Namgoong Juhee stayed put.
Even knowing this wasn't a game.
Even knowing lives weren't infinite like in a game.
Even with no challenges left to clear—her feet stayed firmly planted on the ground.
"Say something..."
"The sword you're using is a heavy sword."
"...Hm?"
"From your gait, looks like you recently injured your left leg. The battle in Wuchang must've been intense, huh? Cheolgeumgeom."
Why was that?
Namgoong Juhee calmly pondered her own thoughts.
People crave love.
They form bonds and constantly seek validation for their existence through them.
That's why so many get hooked on SNS and such.
Namgoong Juhee had tried to cut herself off from it.
Because she'd been suddenly dropped into the Central Plains—who knew when she'd be whisked to another world?
It was hard to let herself get attached to this one.
So she pulled the unreasonable card of treating this world like a game.
She acted like people were NPCs, chasing thrills.
And deep down, she set one rule: Don't get close to anyone not from my world.
"...I heard you were clueless about the martial world's affairs. How'd you know?"
"Ah, not Wuchang but Iraq... no, Afghanistan maybe."
"Afghan? Just as the rumors say—looks like this generation's mad demon is you, spouting bullshit."
"Sherlock Holmes... yeah, wasn't expecting much."
For a while, that eased her mind.
She figured even if she up and left suddenly, there'd be no regrets.
But that self-rationalization didn't last.
In the end, using the excuse of "named NPCs," she built a ton of relationships.
It started with Seonan and Sihoon, followed by Hwangbo Un, and lately Yi Hayeon joined her circle.
What a masterful self-delusion.
"Do you know about loss aversion bias?"
The wave of thoughts overflowed, spilling from her lips.
Even though it was no different from her usual nonsense, Cheolgeumgeom swallowed hard.
The chill in that voice made her body freeze.
It was a coldness even Juhee herself hadn't realized yet.
"It's this idea that losses hurt more than gains make you happy, for equal amounts. Comes up all the time in stocks or crypto talk..."
"If you're stalling for time, give it up."
"Hear me out. At first, I tried to ignore it... but once we got close? I didn't want to lose it either. Yeah... that's probably why I'm still here."
To Namgoong Juhee, Hayeon had become too precious.
That's why she'd tried not to form the bond in the first place.
If she vanished suddenly now, it'd hurt too much.
And knowing Yeonie's personality, she wouldn't understand.
Namgoong Juhee finally smirked then.
Because she'd fully grasped her own heart.
"...Getting tiresome. Draw your sword. As the merchant leader commanded, I'll rip out your arms and legs next year and toss you in the pigsty."
"Fine by me. I've sorted my thoughts too."
Namgoong Juhee quietly wiped the blood from her Noksu sword.
Then she slipped her hand into her sleeve and flung a silver needle—whoosh!
"You little—!"
If the martial world's history spanned a thousand years, assassination's went back several times that.
That millennia of history was in her hand motion—a level even Cheolgeumgeom couldn't ignore.
Cheolgeumgeom swung her greatsword to bat away the needle.
"Gotcha."
"What...!"
Slash! As punishment for getting distracted by the needle, Cheolgeumgeom lost a finger.
Lucky for her it was just one—being Cheolgeumgeom and all.
No one had ever survived Namgoong Juhee's pranks before.
Not even elite experts right below her level.
"Gah! You bitch!"
"Tsk, didn't work."
"Hmph! Trying to beat me with that cheap trick?"
"Nah, the real one's this."
With that, Namgoong Juhee twitched her right shoulder and left leg.
A stance screaming "downward strike" to any master in the world.
Cheolgeumgeom judged the same and braced to block the overhead chop.
"Oh no...!"
But it was a horizontal slash from left to right.
Shlick!
Cheolgeumgeom's abdominal skin tore open, fresh blood spraying out.
No matter how Peak realm she was, without Golden Bell Iron Cloth, she couldn't block a sword cloaked in sword qi.
Cheolgeumgeom was a master swordswoman, but no Shaolin practitioner.
So what could she do? Clutch her gut and retreat.
Otherwise, her guts would spill and she'd die on the spot.
"Not letting you off easy."
Namgoong Juhee wasn't about to just watch.
She'd already burned through her stamina and qi handling twenty-five Peak experts, no room left for Emperor Sword Form.
But that didn't matter.
Her best style was swift and illusory swordplay anyway.
Luk Hap Sword, to be precise.
Right, left, right, right, left, right, left, right, right—right again.
Peerless swift strikes rained down from every direction.
Fast enough to vie for the world's best, but the erratic movements were the real problem.
Predict left and dodge left? Another blade comes from the left. Same for right.
Countless masters had fallen to this bizarre sword art.
Cheolgeumgeom knew it well and thought she'd prepared... but as wounds accumulated, she realized she was wrong.
This wasn't something you could "prepare" for.
"Damn... brat!"
Clang! Clang! Kang!
Cheolgeumgeom barely parried Namgoong Juhee's assaults.
Half with her body, half with her sword.
Meanwhile, she prayed.
Please! Just one opening! Then her massive qi could cleave Juhee in two.
But no opening came.
Namgoong Juhee's mind was more stable than ever.
She'd realized her true feelings, had a clear goal to protect her friends, and her imagery for martial arts was top-notch to begin with.
"Farewell. I'll send that old merchant coot your way soon, so don't grieve too much."
As Namgoong Juhee swung her final strike—
It was a razor-thin moment.
A sharp poke! pierced her womb area, blood trickling down between her legs.
The opening Cheolgeumgeom had desperately wanted.
"Hng...!"
"DIE!"
Seeing the golden flash erupt from Cheolgeumgeom's sword, Namgoong Juhee muttered,
'This... is a bit dangerous.'
A perfectly accurate judgment.