087 - The Woman's Temper
Jin Muhon melted into the darkness, unfolding his lightness skill toward the heart of the Nangong Family Estate.
Having prioritized stealth over speed, none of the family warriors detected his presence.
Thud.
Jin Muhon landed silently atop a tree.
A towering pavilion rose starkly amid the dense foliage. Its position alone screamed importance, but the defenses were extraordinarily tight.
'The Family Head Residence.'
Sect leaders and family heads were constantly sought out by others, so their quarters were usually somewhat open. But this place was excessively dark and sealed off. It wasn't even bedtime yet, yet no light flickered from the pavilion, and there were no braziers for the outer guards.
Instead, streams of qi enveloped the structure like a spiderweb, densely interwoven.
'A formation...'
Jin Muhon circulated qi from his upper dantian, calmly reading the flow of the formation.
The warriors stationed around it were guarding based on changes in the formation rather than sight. It appeared serene on the surface, but inside, it thrummed taut as a drawn blade.
Hummm—
Jin Muhon channeled his inner energy to prod the formation behind the pavilion.
"Intruder!"
A group of warriors unleashed their lightness skills toward the rear. Still, many more guarded the entrance.
Hummm— Hummm— Hummm—
Jin Muhon simultaneously unleashed bursts of energy in all directions.
"What the?!"
"It's not just one!"
Screeeee—
A shrill horn pierced the night sky. Chaos erupted around the Family Head Residence in an instant. Warriors dashed about, pursuing the intruder and resetting the formation.
Jin Muhon slipped through the pandemonium, swiftly approaching the pavilion.
Hummm—
The formation reacted, but with alerts sounding everywhere, his movement went unnoticed. Their blind faith in it—refusing even a single torch—proved a fatal flaw.
Jin Muhon cracked the door open and slipped inside.
Shing! Clang!
As expected, swords flew at him from both sides the moment he entered. Jin Muhon stepped forward, twisting his body, and struck the pressure points of the two ambushers.
Thump!
"Urk!"
"Guh!"
The paralyzed warriors' eyes darted anxiously. But the interior was even darker than outside, making it impossible to identify the intruder.
Hiss—
Jin Muhon stood still and unfurled his Blood Mist. Red fog rapidly spread across the floor, infiltrating the Family Head Residence.
'There.'
One by one, stifled presences reached him through the mist—from the beams above, behind pillars, even beneath the floorboards. Their auras and numbers marked them as no mere foes to dispatch with acupoint strikes.
Sching.
Jin Muhon drew his Four Emperors Sword and advanced. The darkness rippled like waves in time with his steps.
Fwosh! Fwosh! Fwoosh!
Assassins struck from all sides, targeting his vital points in rapid succession.
Swoosh—!
Jin Muhon neutralized them with minimal motion. He kicked a leaper mid-air before it could balance, sending its sword slicing empty space; palm strikes hurled aerial attackers aside.
Slash! Rip! Slash!
Flesh tore and bones cracked, scraping the darkness. The pavilion soon reeked thickly of blood. Yet not a single groan escaped the warriors.
'Assassins.'
It felt less like facing Nangong warriors and more like battling professional killers. After shedding blood for about a quarter of an hour, nothing blocked his path.
Step. Step. Step.
Jin Muhon traversed the pitch-black corridor. Creaking floors and his footsteps echoed. The layout was straightforward—a long hall ending at a plain, firmly shut door.
Creak.
Jin Muhon opened it without hesitation.
"......"
A vast chamber. Empty save for a desk at the center. No warmth lingered.
Yet a faint presence in the air subtly pricked his senses.
Thud.
He closed the door behind him and entered. First, he checked the desk. Even without his transformation, the gloom would have made reading impossible—but moonlight through the window slits revealed documents.
"Hm."
Nothing special. Mostly letters sending regards to the Nangong family head ahead of the Murim Conference. At least it confirmed this was indeed the head's quarters.
"......"
Jin Muhon glanced toward the door. By now, the warriors who found nothing should have stormed in—yet no footsteps echoed from the hall.
"Is this why they invited me?"
Nangong Yeong had invited him in his own name but neither showed his face nor sent anyone. Word was he hadn't appeared for days. No wonder they hadn't pursued after spotting the Blood Demon traces.
It seemed he'd dug this trap in his own lair, lying in wait.
Hiss—
Blood Mist seeped through the door crack, slithering inward like a living thing, expanding across the chamber. Jin Muhon stood at its center, attuning his senses to its flow.
Then, in an instant—he turned his head.
"There."
The mist wormed into a wall crevice. Jin Muhon approached, running his hands along it.
Click!
A section of wall sank inward with a sound.
Rumble—
Soon, it retracted enough for a person to pass.
"......"
Inky blackness oozed out like tentacles. Eerily denser than the surrounding dark.
Whoosh—!
Rather than plunge in blindly, Jin Muhon scattered Blood Mist to probe ahead. Traces of mechanisms everywhere, as expected. Strangely, even after some time, it hadn't reached the end.
"A sinister bastard."
The scale was too vast for a trap just for him. It meant he'd prepared this long ago, for some other reason.
Jin Muhon closed his eyes and unleashed his Sword Intent.
Hummmm—
Within the darkness, vengeful spirits rose, tearing through the myriad traps.
Thud! Boom! Bang bang bang!
Explosions echoed nonstop down the passage. He made no effort to muffle them—the area was too expansive anyway. After about a quarter-hour, the noise faded. Pent-up dust billowed out like clouds.
Jin Muhon waved it away casually. No one came despite the racket, as if entering here held the answers.
"Then let's go."
He stepped into the darkness. Nangong Yeong, suspected as Ma-seon's minion. Capturing him would bring him far closer to Ma-seon than with the Poison King.
A faint smile curled Jin Muhon's lips.
***
The pavilion over the pond stood aloof atop rippling waters. Lanterns swayed, casting golden ripples across the surface; wind chimes at the eaves tinkled softly in the spring breeze.
But the scene atop it was far from refined.
"Hahaha! Miss Moyong, you grow more beautiful by the day!"
"Pah! And Young Master Jegal, your words get shinier by the day too."
"Eh? What do you mean? Shiny words?"
"You think I don't know you flirt with every girl you see?"
"Hahaha! Word's already spread?"
Tables groaned under lavish dishes, the air thick with intoxicating alcohol fumes that numbed the nose. Laughter laced with lust and coquetry never ceased. A gathering of vigorous youths—it felt less like the Dragon Phoenix Assembly and more like a den of debauchery.
"Not amused?"
Jegal Yunmyeong smiled slyly at Jin Hayeon across from him. She'd been watching a man and woman dance in an embrace; now she nodded with a bored expression.
"Yeah. I didn't know the Dragon Phoenix Assembly was this kind of party."
"Can't be helped when blood runs hot. They play wild one night, then act all prim the next like nothing happened."
"Very 'righteous' of them."
"Hahaha! Spot on. The righteous way indeed."
Jegal Yunmyeong poured liquor into Jin Hayeon's empty cup with a glug-glug.
"Still, some of them will be future sect leaders and family heads. No harm in building ties early."
"Like getting to know you, Young Master?"
"Ha! Does it come across that way?"
As Jegal Yunmyeong chuckled amiably, a flushed woman approached.
"Young Master. What're you doing here? Come over there with us."
Jegal Yunmyeong looked up at her.
"Ah, I'm fine. Have fun, Miss Moyong."
"Huh? But who's this? Never seen her before."
The woman with the Moyong surname eyed Jin Hayeon arrogantly. Her gaze screamed disdain—just who did this nobody think she was, hogging the Jegal heir?
Jin Hayeon, ever kind to all, had downed some drinks herself; her smile faded.
"I've never seen you before either."
"Hmph! I'm Moyong Yeon of the Moyong family. And you?"
"Jin Hayeon of the Yunbong Jin Family."
"Ha! Yunbong Jin family?"
Moyong Yeon snorted and turned away.
"Hey! Anyone here ever heard of this Yunbong Jin family?"
She shrieked sharply. The reveling juniors paused at her shrill tone, glancing over—then grimaced upon seeing it was her.
Tsk.
In the end, Jegal Yunmyeong rose with bottle and cup in hand.
"Here, Miss Moyong. Have a drink and mingle with the others."
"No, why won't you answer? Have you heard of the Yunbong Jin family?!"
"Goodness. You're drunk. Of course I have. The Yunbong Jin Family is a venerable house led by the Yunbong Sword Hero himself."
"Yunbong Sword Hero? Who's that? And who the hell brought some no-name nobody to the Dragon Phoenix Assembly?!"
The crowd shook their heads and looked away. The music resumed.
Jin Hayeon frowned at Moyong Yeon. Her eyes were slightly unfocused from drink, but this seemed routine for her.
"Miss Moyong. I invited Miss Jin and Miss Hongcheong. See Brother Cheongpung over there? Ever seen the notoriously picky Wudang Dragon hanging with just anyone? You probably haven't even spoken to him properly."
"What?! You ignoring me?!"
Cheongpung furrowed his brow slightly. Jegal Yunmyeong chuckled and continued.
"No, you're the one ignoring. Fix that temper first, Miss Moyong. Folks might mistake it for an inferiority complex."
"Inferiority... complex? You saying that about me?"
Poison flashed in Moyong Yeon's eyes. Jegal Yunmyeong's face hardened.
"Miss. I misspoke. Let's end it here. I apologize—please withdraw."
"What?! You think I go when you say go, come when you say come? Looks like you're trying to prey on some naive country bumpkin—wake up! And you! Don't throw yourself away thinking it'll fix your fate. Better steer clear of trash like him early—for your own good!"
Moyong Yeon jabbed a finger at Jin Hayeon, spewing venom. Even drunk, it was over the line. Jin Hayeon and Jegal Yunmyeong blinked in disbelief.
"You think it's funny? Why no— Kyaaak!"
Thump!
Suddenly, spittle-flying Moyong Yeon soared through the air—whoosh—and plunged into the pond below.
Splash!
"Aaaah! Help! Save me! Glub glub!"
The juniors rushed to the railing, peering down. Moyong Yeon flailed in the murky water.
Jin Hayeon, Jegal Yunmyeong, and Cheongpung gaped at the woman who'd kicked her.
"Ruining the booze with your yapping."
A breeze lifted the woman's veil slightly. Her snow-white skin glowed red from drink.
"Hong...a..."
Jin Hayeon stammered her name. It was Hong-a, disciple of Buso-yong—always shadowing the group unobtrusively.
Whoosh—
Suddenly, chill spread across the pavilion. Jin Hayeon startled, tracing it to its source.
"Ch-Cheong-a! What're you—?!"
Buso-yong's other disciple, Cheong-a, rose slowly from her seat.