What Kind of Stunt Is This?

Bukjin swerved violently. A dozen assassins wearing bronze masks had suddenly materialized in his path. His reaction was instantaneous, devoid of even a shred of hesitation. However, his path was blocked again almost immediately. It wasn't just his front; a perimeter was already tightening around the ruins where he stood.

"Dammit. I was planning on showing off my skills tonight, but it looks like I've stepped in it instead," Bukjin cursed inwardly.

Whoosh!

A crimson flame exploded high in the night sky. The fire suspended in the air quickly coalesced into the shape of a massive red longsword. Upon seeing the signal, Im Gun-hyeon’s pupils contracted sharply.

"My Lord! That’s the warning flare used only when Sama—the Demon Worshippers—appear!" the Chief of the Police Bureau shouted, his face pale with shock.

"Assemble the experts of the Police Bureau immediately! Every available hand, excluding those guarding the morgue, must move out for support! I’m heading out first!"

A sharp, lethal light flickered in Im Gun-hyeon’s eyes. His figure transformed into a bolt of lightning, piercing through the night sky. Even before he departed, two other figures had already shot out from the city government office, moving at a terrifying speed that covered dozens of yards in a single bound. They were, at the very least, experts of the Grandmaster Realm.

At the Temple of the Sword Lord.

"Demon Worshippers have appeared within the city?"

Standing at the temple entrance, Chief Priestess Jin Juje looked down toward the base of the mountain with a look of deep suspicion. "How can this be? Why hasn't the divine statue given any response...?"

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed around her. The young priestesses within the temple were gathering in a flurry of activity. Jin Juje turned to them and commanded, "Guard the temple. Deploy the Sword Array and hold this position at all costs. I must go down the mountain and assess the situation."

As she finished speaking, two wings unfurled from her back. Jin Juje took to the sky, looking like a sacred bird as she scattered brilliant light in her wake, streaking toward Unmong City like a falling star.

Inside the various junior academies across the city, panic was setting in.

"Demons have appeared?"

"Is it true? Are there really Demon Worshippers in the city?"

"We have to go support them!"

At the Unmong Port, the Unmong-wi garrison.

Inside a large military tent, the commander of the Unmong-wi had been deep in thought, rolling two iron spheres in his hand. His expression shifted instantly when he saw the crimson sword flare in the sky. He bolted upright and roared, "You’re telling me Demon Worshippers have appeared in the city?!"

He stepped out of the tent in a single stride, looking up at the direction of the flare.

"My Lord..."

"Commander! It’s inside Unmong City!" his personal guards shouted as they rushed toward him.

"Second Company! Third Company! Assemble immediately! Take your soldiers and follow me into the city!"

By the time he finished the order, the commander was already airborne, flying dozens of yards away. "I am departing first! The rest of you, finish your preparations quickly and follow!"

His figure vanished into the distance. His power and speed were truly formidable. At that moment, countless experts from every institution in Unmong City were racing toward the signal with shocked faces.

"Haha! Now that is one big firework!" Bukjin laughed as he looked up at the massive flaming sword hovering directly above his head.

"Did you go through all that trouble to lure me here just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to show me a light show? Well, I’ve enjoyed the view! Thanks! Now that the show's over, I should head back and get some sleep. My mother always said staying out late is bad for the health!"

Bukjin made a move to step past the perimeter. However, the black-clad assassins moved in silence, blocking his path once again.

"So you really want to do this, huh?" Bukjin shouted, sounding suddenly annoyed. "Fine. I’ll give you a chance. Let’s do this by the rules of the Jianghu! One-on-one! We’ll settle this one by one!"

The assassins remained silent. They looked like ghosts dragged up from the underworld—no words, no sounds, not even the sound of breathing. A shadow fell over Bukjin’s face.

"Dammit! I’m playing along this much and they won’t even give me a reaction!"

Bukjin quietly retracted his Iron Wall Bow and summoned his Deok-geom. "You! Yeah, you! And you! And the short one over there! Come out and fight me one-on-one!"

Bukjin pointed at the skinniest assassin and the smallest one among them. In reality, while he was talking, he was secretly dispersing various toxins—aphrodisiacs, poisons, and the like. He was letting them drift into the air without a sound. Bukjin believed that facing this many enemies with pure brute force was the height of stupidity.

"I’ll drop as many as I can with poison first, then rethink the plan."

But then, something happened that Bukjin hadn't expected at all.

A bizarre red light suddenly erupted from behind the mask of one of the assassins facing him. In the next instant, the assassin drew a sword from his waist and savagely plunged it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into his own heart. He yanked the blade out, sprayed blood everywhere, and collapsed.

The assassin twitched and spasmed in a pool of his own gore before falling still. A small lake of blood began to form around the corpse.

"???"

"What the hell is going on? Did he commit suicide because I called him short? Did his pride get hurt that badly? Since when did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my mouth have this kind of divine power?"

Bukjin couldn't understand the situation at all. And then, something even more bone-chilling occurred.

The dozens of assassins surrounding Bukjin all emitted the same red glow from their eyes. Simultaneously, they drew their weapons, stabbed themselves in the heart, and collapsed one after another. A massive pool of blood formed as the twitching assassins met their ends. The most eerie part was that throughout the entire process, not a single one of them made a sound. Even as the blades pierced their hearts and blood geysered out, they didn't scream or struggle, as if they felt no pain at all.

Bukjin stood there, dazed. "What are these lunatics doing? They lured me all the way here just to put on a suicide performance?"

He couldn't be sure, but he could feel a massive conspiracy unfolding. Bukjin turned his head to look at the Hwan-hyeong—the phantom. The face of the phantom, which bore So-ryeong’s likeness, was twisted in terror. Her entire body was trembling, and she looked desperate to say something, but for some reason, no sound came out.

Her mouth moved wordlessly as her face began to stiffen, as if her own body was no longer obeying her. She moved toward Bukjin with a grotesque, jerky gait. Suddenly, tears began to stream from her eyes. It was the result of a mental breakdown caused by an indescribable, overwhelming horror striking the depths of her soul.

At that moment, Bukjin felt a mysterious, unidentifiable power surging within the phantom’s body, beginning to control her. Simultaneously, the five assassins who hadn't yet committed suicide let out crazed roars and lunged at Bukjin.

They swung their weapons wildly, exploding with a sudden burst of power. The strength radiating from them was at the level of the Master Rank. A powerful killing intent washed over Bukjin, and he swung his sword in a counterattack.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Sparks flew as the blades collided. The Deok-geom was the heaviest of heavy swords. Bukjin didn't hold back an ounce of his immense physical strength, swinging the Deok-geom with devastating force, striking the assassins like a reaper swinging a giant scythe.

The assassins hit by Bukjin’s blade were sent flying, unable to rise again as they met their deaths.

"I need to get out of here right now."

An inexplicable sense of dread was filling Bukjin’s mind. "Everything happening tonight is bizarre and beyond my expectations. I can't predict what other dangerous things might happen."

Bukjin dealt with the remaining assassins with the greatest speed he could muster and then swung his Deok-geom toward the phantom. At that moment, the phantom suddenly dropped to her knees. She bowed deeply toward Bukjin with the utmost respect, as if she were serving her lord.

Startled, Bukjin’s sword stopped mid-air. "What kind of stunt is this now?"

Right then—

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The sound of air being pierced echoed repeatedly from the surroundings.

"Huh? More assassins?" Bukjin was genuinely alarmed.

He saw three streaks of brilliant Mystic Energy, like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠radiant meteors, pierce through the air and land upon the collapsed ruins. The figures that emerged from the light were not assassins. They were...

"City Lord Im? And Im Ji, and Im O? How did they get here?"

Bukjin was shocked to see the three men. "There hasn't been any progress between me and Im Jin yet... how did these three end up being the first ones to come save me? Could it be that even though they didn't show it, they decided that I, Im Bukjin, am the perfect man for Im Jin in terms of both talent and looks?"

Before Bukjin could even open his mouth to speak, more streaks of Mystic Energy came racing in from the distance. One of them possessed wings of brilliant light, looking like an angel descending from the heavens to the mortal world. As the winged figure landed gracefully atop a tall stone pillar, a majestic light radiated in all directions. Emerging from that light was a woman of noble beauty—the Chief Priestess of the Sword Lord Temple, Jin Juje.

Soon, another burst of Mystic Energy slammed into the ground. As the meteor-like light arrived, a powerful aura surged outward like a tidal wave, making the earth tremble. The dust covering the ruins was instantly blown away. Stepping out from that light was a man of massive stature, a giant sword strapped to his back, clad in armor forged from Black Iron.

He was a middle-aged man who exuded the dignity of a god of war. His straight beard and piercing eyes radiated an aura of absolute strength.