The Blade in the Dark Steps Forward

“Hold a moment, Ma Chung! Wait. I have business with that boy as well.”

Ma Chung's shoulders went rigid.

An icy presence had bloomed without warning at his back.

Don't tell me—

When he whirled around in shock, his eyes found a man who had already merged with the shadows at the entrance of the training hall.

A face as blade-edged and expressionless as his jet-black martial robes. The man's very existence seemed to swallow the light and sound around him.

A drill instructor of the Shadowless Killing Sect—the most secretive and lethal of all the Ten Demonic Sects.

“The Shadowless Pursuit Killer… Ya Jin!”

The name escaped Ma Chung's lips along with a nervous gulp.

Ya Jin inclined his head faintly.

“Do junior drill instructors dare call a senior by name so carelessly?”

At those words, Ma Chung hastily straightened his posture.

“Forgive me, Senior Instructor. What brings a man of your standing to this shabby place?”

Sharp wariness laced Ma Chung's voice.

Unlike himself, a man with no backing, Ya Jin was a formidable martial artist backed by a massive power—one who could not be brushed aside.

“Did I not say so? I have business with that boy.”

Ya Jin paid Ma Chung no mind at all, his gaze boring into Yun Cheon alone.

His eyes were less greedy than they were cold and relentless—the gaze of a blacksmith appraising fine ore.

“You've already made your offer. Now it's my turn. Step aside, if you would.”

A taut current of hostility crackled between the two instructors.

But as Ya Jin said, Ma Chung had already thrown down his offer; the ball was in Yun Cheon's court now.

Ma Chung smacked his lips and stepped back a pace.

This is getting interesting.

Ya Jin approached Yun Cheon and spoke.

“You know as well as anyone that your bones and sinews are wanting. So I will teach you a martial art suited to you—one that will make you the hidden dagger in the dark.”

Yun Cheon weighed the offer with genuine gravity.

The arts of an assassin, he means.

The martial arts of Kunlun were orthodox arts demanding pure, vast internal energy.

He could not use them yet—and even if he could, he could never reveal them.

But if he learned the killer's arts as Ya Jin proposed, two advantages presented themselves.

One: he could overcome part of his body's limitations.

Two: they were perfectly suited for infiltrating not only the Demonic Cult but the orthodox sects and the Murim Alliance as well.

The risk is considerable… but it would favor me both inside and outside the cult. It might even broaden my range of movement.

Having finished his calculations, Yun Cheon found himself genuinely tempted by the offer.

Just then, Ma Chung—judging that Ya Jin was stealing the initiative—blurted out in alarm.

“No! With a talent for kicking like his, my Blood Wind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Leg is the perfect fit! Boy, choose me! I'll teach you the true depth of the Blood Wind Leg!”

At Ma Chung's outburst, Ya Jin's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

He seemed to take a moment to gauge Yun Cheon's potential—then, as if decided, the corner of his mouth curled up.

“Hmph. Forget Ma Chung's footwork. I will teach you the Shadowless Step and the Soul-Severing Dagger—the arts of the Shadowless Killing Sect. With them, you could kill even a Peak master.”

“The Shadowless Step and the Soul-Severing Dagger? Have you lost your mind! Bah! Then I, too, will teach the Whirling Step! Paired with the Blood Wind Leg, it's an art that can let one aspire to the Peak itself!”

An escalating spectacle of extravagant offers.

Peak masters, hmm. These arts must be fairly useful indeed….

Yet Yun Cheon's expression did not so much as flicker.

It would have been stranger for a kidnapped child to react to Demonic Cult martial arts.

Instead, a more fundamental question rose in Yun Cheon's mind.

…Why are they making me these offers?

He asked with eyes brimming with pure, guileless wonder.

“Might I ask… why the two of you, honored instructors, show such interest in a mere cadet like me? What do you stand to gain?”

A naive question that struck straight to the heart of the matter.

Instantly, both instructors wore the look of men struck over the head with a hammer.

He doesn't know? Truly?

They had been so absorbed in Yun Cheon's talent and bearing that they had assumed he was a boy secretly raised somewhere within the cult's factions.

But on reflection, it made no sense.

The boy before them wore threadbare rags, the very picture of abject poverty.

Not one of the cult's own, then? Merely an awl in a sack, waiting to poke through?

Soon enough, they realized the truth: he was pure raw ore, without a shred of backing.

Then all the more reason not to let him slip away!

No backing—same as me. But his talent surpasses even mine, on the cusp of the Peak!

Ma Chung felt a kinship with Yun Cheon, who had no special pedigree of his own.

Raw ore from neither the Ten Demonic Sects nor the Twelve Guardian Families! Secure the boy, and it counts as an achievement ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for me as an instructor, and it aids my sect. A win on every front.

Ya Jin, too, reassessed the boy's value upward.

Discovering such talent first and making it one's own was the greatest merit a drill instructor could claim.

Ma Chung hurried to speak first.

“Cadets of the Hidden Demon Cave receive ten rank tags each month. To receive instruction from an instructor, a cadet pays one tag per session. In other words, the tags are the measure by which instructors themselves are judged….”

At that moment, Ya Jin cut him off mid-sentence.

“This senior instructor could sweep up all the tags he wished, if he cared to. But being judged by the sheer number of tags is something only the vulgar bother with.”

Ya Jin continued with unmistakable confidence.

“A true master proves himself by quality. I have no interest in teaching cadets who lack the aptitude in the first place. But every cadet I have taught has ranked among the finest ten.”

Ma Chung hastily added his own competitive claim.

“This instructor has only recently taken his post in the Hidden Demon Cave! My skill falls short of no senior instructor's!”

Thanks to the endless sparring match of egos between Ma Chung and Ya Jin, Yun Cheon came to understand the Hidden Demon Cave's evaluation system with ease. A cold smile crept across his lips.

Rank tags… a curious institution. So the instructors compete as well as the cadets. No wonder they're desperate to claim the best students first….

Yun Cheon's eyes glinted coldly.

The first bidder and the second are set. From now on, the price is the one I name.

Yun Cheon shed his guileless expression, then offered both instructors a respectful cupped-fist salute.

“I understand the sincerity of you both. But by names alone, I find it difficult to so easily make my decision.”

He murmured quietly, as though genuinely troubled.

“What can be known from explanations alone has its limits… does it not?”

Ma Chung hastily cried out.

“Master the Blood Wind Leg and you can become a Peak master honored even within the Cult. Even Senior Instructor Ya Jin cannot deny it!”

Ya Jin, however, looked at Ma Chung with faint disdain and spoke.

“Foolish… Do you think reciting realms and sect politics to a kidnapped child will land with him?”

“…Then does the Senior Instructor have another way?”

“Isn't there a simple one?”

Ya Jin glanced at Yun Cheon as though it were an unavoidable nuisance, then said,

“If explanations aren't enough… then you simply show him, with his own eyes, which art is stronger.”

Exactly as Yun Cheon intended.

So this is the Demonic Cult… but their naked, simple appetites are actually easier to deal with.

Instructor Ma Chung nodded as well.

“…Fair enough. If a boy who knows nothing is to grasp it, that's about the only way… but are you certain? I may be a newly appointed instructor, but my martial skill is nothing to sneer at.”

“Of course. That confidence of yours is about to crumble, so shout while the spirit lasts.”

Yun Cheon said nothing more while the two continued talking.

I spent years dealing with the sanctimonious old foxes of the Murim Alliance.

The two were already lit like fuses.

Prodding them clumsily would only invite suspicion.

Left alone, they would burn themselves to a blaze.

“…I'll go first, then. Watch closely, boy.”

Ma Chung stepped forward.

“My Blood Wind Leg is a raging storm! A devastating art of kicks that shatters and tears through any defense!”

The instant his shout ended and his feet moved, a wind laced with blood-red force tore through the training hall with a shriek of splitting air.

Kwa-gwagwang—!

Dozens of kicks struck the training hall walls like one colossal storm, gouging deep scars into the solid stone.

A razor-sharp assessment unfolded within Yun Cheon's mind.

Fitting for an art of kicks—the destructive power is exceptional. But there are split-second gaps between the linked forms. In real combat, those instants will decide life or death. Footwork to shore them up will be essential.

Next, Ya Jin stepped forward.

“An empty cart rattles loudest. The martial arts of the Shadowless Killing Sect make no sound. We close the distance without leaving so much as a shadow—and sever the soul. That is our art.”

Sureureuk.

For a heartbeat his body seemed to scatter like smoke—and then, without any transition, he was standing directly behind a candle in the far corner of the hall.

The flame had not wavered in the slightest, yet a thin, deep scar was carved into the wall where his fingertips had grazed it.

“This is the Soul-Severing Hand.”

It was almost impossible to believe it had been left by a mere knife-hand strike.

Yun Cheon murmured inwardly once more.

Fascinating. The Soul-Severing Hand… differs from ordinary hand techniques. An assassin's art, optimized for concealment and ambush!

The two instructors waited confidently for Yun Cheon's choice.

But Yun Cheon opened his mouth carefully, still wearing the look of a boy who could not quite understand.

“My eye is too shallow—demonstrations against a wall alone make it hard to gauge your skill.”

“What…?”

“I have seen the destructive force of the Blood Wind Leg and the stealth and precision of the Shadowless Killing Sect. But I could not tell which is the better art.”

Yun Cheon prodded them with exquisite craft.

“Martial arts, after all, are meant to be used not against walls, but against people. Would you grant me the chance to experience your arts firsthand?”

At those words, both instructors fell into an awkward silence.

“Experience it?”

However gifted a child might be, to demonstrate their arts against one would mean his death.

Martial arts are meant for people, he says….

Ma Chung slapped his palms together, struck by what he clearly thought was a brilliant idea.

“Why don't the two of us spar?”

“What?”

“As this brat says—martial arts are meant for people. Then a duel is the best answer, no?”

Ya Jin faltered for a moment at that—then nodded.

And with it, a frigid killing intent rose from the Senior Instructor.

“Heh… requesting a duel from an assassin. You understand what that means, don't you? Are you prepared to stake your life, Instructor Ma Chung?”

A cruel smile played at the corner of his mouth.

The sect's prestige and his pride as Senior Instructor hung on this.

Now that it had been spoken aloud, no instructor—whatever their rank—could back down.

A taut tension stretched between the two men.

Just as planned.

The duel was already a settled fact.

Everything had gone precisely as Yun Cheon willed it.

Before long, the duel between the two instructors began.

“I'll yield the first move.”

“…I won't refuse it.”

At once, Ma Chung kicked off the ground and spun his body into motion.

The Linked Kicks of the Blood Wind Leg came howling down like a storm, sweeping across the spot where Ya Jin had stood.

But Ya Jin was no longer there.

He was threading his way inside the radius of Ma Chung's storm, slipping through it by the breadth of a single sheet of paper.

Instructor Ma Chung's art has clear strengths and clear flaws. Now I understand why his eyes gleamed at the Limitless Step. A kick art that would shine even brighter paired with proper footwork!

Ya Jin's fingertips darted for Ma Chung's ribs like a viper's tongue.

At that very instant, Ma Chung's upper body twisted in an eerie rotation, and a leg sprang out from an utterly unpredictable angle.

A roundhouse kick aimed straight through the enemy's guard.

Swish!

But Ya Jin, as though he had foreseen the incoming kick, poured it off him with serpentine smoothness and dove into Ma Chung's guard.

Ma Chung's knee drove toward the closing Ya Jin.

Paa-ang—.

The two instructors traded a flurry of exchanges in the space of a breath, then each retreated a step.

And Senior Instructor Ya Jin's art… for something meant purely for assassination, it's footwork of considerable sophistication. And he's still not showing everything he has….

Yun Cheon watched the clash, dissecting everything.

Without question, a real exchange laid bare strengths and weaknesses far more clearly than demonstration ever could.

The rotational force of the Whirling Step against the stealth of the Shadowless Step.

The devastating Blood Wind Leg against the razor Soul-Severing Hand.

It was a collision of arts with utterly different characters.

Having crossed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blades a dozen times in an instant, the two seemed genuinely startled by each other's skill.

The new instructor Ma Chung is this strong?

Senior Instructor Ya Jin… no ordinary assassin's art to be dismissed….

Inwardly shaken by the hidden depths they had each been keeping in reserve, the two drew fresh breath.

Astonishingly, both of them stood at the far end of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠First Rate, gazing up at the Peak.

This much is a fine enough harvest.

The watching Yun Cheon intervened at the precise moment—just before they clashed again.

“Thank you. I believe I have seen enough of both your arts.”

Only then did Ma Chung and Ya Jin each step back.

That brat… a coincidence?

He intervened at the exact right moment… no chance of that being luck. This one really is….

Having wound down their duel, the two exchanged a formal salute and turned toward Yun Cheon.

The moment of choice had come.

But Yun Cheon delivered an answer that left them both stunned.

“…Both your profound arts were a sight to behold. Truly impressive. However… they seem wasted on someone like me, as I am now.”

His expression was one of genuine, humble regret.

“Even the basic arts I obtained from the Archive Hall are not yet familiar to me. I'm afraid I am in no state to accept such profound techniques from either of you.”

At Yun Cheon's words, Ma Chung's face flushed crimson.

Even Ya Jin's glacial composure warped.

“You little wretch! We went so far as to duel for you—and now you dare toy with your instructors?!”

Ma Chung reacted first, bristling with outrage.

Ya Jin's response was much the same.

“Hah. We saw a spark of aptitude and thought to offer you a chance—only to find a fool whose eye can't even match his nerve. Kicking away opportunity with his own two feet.”

Ya Jin spoke in a voice cold as ice, then wheeled around sharply.

“Damn it all! First you steal my identification tag, and now this is the second insult. If not for the discipline of the Hidden Demon Cave, I would not have let you off….”

Ma Chung, no less furious, snarled under his breath and turned away as well.

But at the very moment the two instructors were about to quit the training hall for good—

Yun Cheon's voice, murmuring to himself at their backs, stopped their footsteps dead.

“…I'm quite certain that's how it went.”

And then, following the murmur—

Sswe-ak—!

A tearing shriek of air bored into their ears.

That alone was enough to signal that something was terribly wrong.

…What does he think he's doing?

Don't tell me… he's imitating our arts?

The two instructors' feet glued themselves to the floor.

And abandoning their pride, they chose to turn around.

The instant they did, an impossible sight spread out before their eyes.

“……!”

Yun Cheon was replicating Instructor Ma Chung's Blood Wind Leg—in flawless form.