Chapter 30
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Surpassing the First Wall (3)
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“Argh!”
I flung my sword away in a fit of nerves.
Another failure.
Last time, after getting utterly thrashed by Luri and slipping into a trance.
Riding that lightning bolt of enlightenment, I’d managed to unleash a clear sword aura.
That’s when this one-and-only genius of the era, Geum Sihyeon, had cried out in admiration: “At just shy of thirty, I’ve already reached the Peak realm! Jade-like perfection!”
But.
That was it. Just that once.
Even when that blubbering sword fool was jabbing me with needles all over.
No matter how much I swung it alone in the training hall.
All that came out was something too pathetic to call sword aura.
Not a vermilion bird, but a chick peeping “cheep cheep...”
If I really strained with all my might to squeeze it out.
My dantian would go “Phew, that’s enough” and cough up about as much as a rat turd.
This isn’t sword aura...!
Feeling wronged, furious, and sad, I ran straight to the greatest master I knew—my teacher—and whined.
- No, really, sword aura came out of my sword! A firebird screeching “Kyaaak!” Like, for real! But why won’t it happen again?
But.
- How could a flower in a greenhouse ever fully grasp the weight of the sword?
Chicken Face just smacked my head hard and left me with those cryptic words.
Calling this man Geum Sihyeon—a flower in a greenhouse?
In my previous life, orphaned young, I’d struggled alone to make something of myself... well, not quite. I’d rented a room in someone else’s house, bled sweat to mooch off their money, scraping by day by day.
Even after getting sucked into this primitive, barbaric ancient martial world, I’d overcome death, honored my parents, flipped off my big bro, and lived a fulfilling life.
And now, just two years of fattening my belly, they call me a greenhouse flower?
...Well, compared to the Central Plains average, it’s top 0.01% living, sure.
“Haa.”
I knew exactly what I was lacking.
It was so close, right there in my grasp, yet slipping away—that made it burn even more.
As I clutched my head, about to dive into dilemma season 57 on how to circulate qi properly.
Bzzz—
My tactless smartphone buzzed obnoxiously.
[Second Bro: Translation complete]
Damn!
That’s my bro for you.
Come to think of it, that bastard Tang Mok.
Slipped me some nasty poison brew, didn’t he?
You’re in deep shit now, punk.
I’ve got evidence and motive in spades. Time to stomp you flat.
“Bro, why the death glare?”
“...You’re here.”
The usual sly, laid-back grin was gone.
My second brother, Geum Sirang, stared at me with a grave expression before silently handing over the decoded poison script.
He hadn’t perfectly translated every sentence.
But it was organized enough to grasp the meaning pretty well.
Especially the line that jumped out.
- Deploying first-class assassin
“Hmph...”
My mood soured instantly.
Assassin?
Those fucking pricks.
Should just wipe their entire seed from existence.
Always lurking sneakily in inns, spiking food with meridian-severing poison before stabbing.
Or popping out like shadows on sketchy mountain paths, hurling poisoned daggers.
Hell, even brazenly showing up on big-city streets, stabbing wildly.
In my previous ten martial lives before Geum Sihyeon.
I’d lost my head to assassins about four times.
“Father and big bro recently hired Green Forest bandits as bodyguards. You and I are safe inside the academy, but just in case, don’t even think about stepping out for a while.”
For once, my second brother’s voice dripped with genuine worry.
Green Forest bodyguards, huh.
Bandits as escorts...?
Is that a thing...?
But in this slightly off-kilter world where bandits don’t rob but carve roads through mountains to collect tolls fair and square—what’s the point of nitpicking?
Anyway.
Thanks, Chicken Face’s minions.
A sudden brain spark led me to toss out a question.
“So, what’s our bounty?”
“...That’s what you’re curious about right now?”
Second bro looked at me like I was insane, then sighed.
“Assassin groups rarely take jobs on martial artists to begin with. For them to accept means someone shelled out a massive fortune. Or they think we won’t even find the culprit. Either way, it’s shitty.”
Tell me about it.
Even that northern barbarian clan’s kid I know, arm-in-arm with some family, spat “lowborn scum” like diarrhea.
Guess the answer is to smash through Peak, Super-Peak, Flower realm, become a supreme expert, and build a grand Geum household with my three wives and four concubines, all lovey-dovey.
I brushed off his earnest warnings to stay safe and left the instructor’s room.
Eh.
Truth be told, no big shock.
Felt more like, “Here it comes.”
In the original story.
No matter the background or playstyle, there’s always an early-game event: “Assassins appear out of nowhere!”
Like a tutorial for Life-and-Death Boundary.
Also the biggest hurdle for newbie players.
My first martial life ended the same way—out for a stroll, got offed by an assassin...
Usually hits around midterms.
But this triggered way earlier than I expected.
Whatever.
Better to anticipate and counter than get ambushed later when careless.
I sorted the enemy intel in my head.
This world had gotten a bit smarter, but core setup was the same, so if my memory held.
Decent assassins mostly belonged to the Assassins’ Gate organization.
Sticking to their elite minority concept.
Or maybe game system limits.
True to the code’s 1:1 fight-only design, assassins always operated solo on hits.
In other words.
The one targeting me now was likely flying solo.
True manly special.
Just charge in and smash.
Ultra-manly special.
Create an unwinnable angle and smash.
Just in case, load up tactical nuke ‘Chicken’ here.
Having a witness means solid backup when grilling Tang Mok.
After receiving intel on his next target.
Number Seven figured he’d be stuck in Xi’an for at least two months.
Any other spot, he’d infiltrate under cover of night.
But the target’s location—the Hundred Flowers Academy—was tough even for a first-class assassin like him.
Not reason enough to abandon the hit, though.
The payout could rewrite a man’s fate.
And no escorts mentioned—bold move.
The moment he stepped outside, his life ends.
And the chance came quicker than expected.
Posing as an errand boy at the shabby inn right across from the academy gate, monitoring traffic all day.
His eyes caught the target sauntering out like a playboy, decked in expensive silk robes, flaunting it.
Sense of qi matched the client’s info—no major discrepancies.
A bit more abundant than average first-rate, sure.
But no match for someone at Peak realm like him.
Stealth kill anyway—fair fight’s irrelevant.
“Huh? Where’d that little punk Sopali go?”
Where Number Seven had slipped away, leaving just a broom.
The innkeeper’s baffled voice hung in the air.
Moments later.
Tailing the target still strolling leisurely down the street, Number Seven gauged the moment.
Client’s request: Kill publicly, gruesomely, make an example.
Xi’an wasn’t so cramped he couldn’t pull off a roadside hit and vanish easy.
Soon as they hit a quieter spot, ambush and sever the head.
And that moment arrived fast.
As the target veered into a deserted alley off the main drag, Number Seven scanned surroundings.
A variable? Not quite clear.
Some woman tailing the target too, just like him.
Face veiled in cloth, but her curves screamed beauty.
No qi signature—probably no martial arts.
...Bugging him a little.
But perfect witness for the kill.
Not lovers, from the separate paths.
A woman watching her crush die up close? That expression would be special.
Number Seven’s steps naturally quickened.
Now just an errand boy hustling after dawdling.
Anyone’d buy it.
Bit by bit.
Closing the gap.
Finally point-blank.
“A pity.”
His ritual whisper to victims.
Lightning-fast dagger swing.
Inner force enough to crush first-rates, delivering inescapable death.
Now he clutches the gut wound, drops—then dice him fine, dump in the market—
Claaaang—!
“?!”
Too crisp for flesh-rending.
Pure metal-on-metal clash rang out—Number Seven’s face twitched.
The target, who’d stared ahead casually till now, finally turned.
Flashing a sinister grin that screamed “bash your face in” instinct.
“This is a bulletproof vest, you assassin fuck—!”
Shouting boisterously, like he’d known the ambush was coming.