Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 40
>Chapter Title: Assassination (2)
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A new goal had emerged: assassinate the Flying Dragon Pavilion Leader. But it didn't bring any major changes to my daily life.
That was truly fortunate.
I was in the middle of building a rigid schedule, so any disruption would have led to all sorts of inconveniences.
However, even if my routine continued unchanged, the people coming and going from Wind Rock Hall weren't entirely unaffected.
Jin Ha-yeon, who lived here with me, the two guard warriors, and Seon-a and Master, who showed up at the same time every day like this was their home.
Those five were constants, while the rest varied day by day.
“Hahaha. I've got a mission from the White Ghost Unit, so I won't be able to visit for a while, Young Master.”
“I see.”
Guyang Mun occasionally stopped by like this to report that he'd be away.
Well, he was only passing the message to me. He kept glancing at Jin Ha-yeon while he spoke.
“Hehe. Take care out there, Young Master Guyang.”
My third senior brother, now close enough to be best friends, saw him off with a smile. He often had to leave for Shadow Assassination Pavilion duties as well.
‘…I can't bring myself to ask what the mission is.’
Considering the nature of the martial arts my third senior brother practiced and the Shadow Assassination Pavilion's role, the word ‘assassination’ kept floating in my mind.
Dressed head to toe in black, sword coated with lampblack to avoid reflections, moving through the dark night or hiding somewhere enduring.
After tense, precarious moments, slicing the target clean as it passed by—scenes straight out of a movie.
The problem was.
It was hard not to feel a disconnect thinking that someone who treated me kindly and lived so cheerfully was doing that kind of work.
Anyway, after Guyang Mun finished his farewell and left.
I turned to Seon-a, who was beside me, and casually asked.
“Seon-a, after you graduate from the Demonic Path Academy, where do you want to join?”
Curiosity about the dreams of the friendly kid next door.
Recently, having finished the scriptures and history books and moved on to the legal codes, I now knew all the organizations within the cult, which sparked this curiosity.
A minor issue was that the choices within the cult weren't that wide.
Our conversation must have piqued his interest, because Eldest Senior Brother suddenly burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahaha! How about the Crimson Tiger Unit that I lead? A young lady from the Hyeok-ryeon Clan would be exceptionally talented—we'd welcome you with open arms! Hahaha!”
The cult's military forces consisted of sixteen units, blending the four colors—crimson, azure, black, white—and the four directional beasts: dragon, tiger, turtle, sparrow.
Like Eldest Senior Brother's Crimson Tiger Unit or Guyang Mun's White Ghost Unit.
Each unit typically had around forty members, with subtly different roles.
Some, like the White Ghost Unit, went on expeditions for missions, while others patrolled the vast headquarters to defend it.
From my perspective, with Heavenly Myriad Mountains as the central headquarters bordering the "outer lands" called the Central Plains, they felt like border guards.
Especially within Heavenly Myriad Mountains, beyond the massive compound called the headquarters, there were various areas.
The Demonic Path Academy, where I'd eventually enroll, sat on another peak, and there was the notoriously dangerous Forget-Self Ridge.
So they also guarded and monitored places like the Demonic Path Academy and Forget-Self Ridge, not just the headquarters.
‘…Forget-Self Ridge feels more like surveillance than guarding.’
Recalling Jin Ha-yeon's description of Forget-Self Ridge made my body shudder involuntarily.
At that moment, perhaps finding Eldest Senior Brother's sales pitch overwhelming, Seon-a grabbed my sleeve tightly, clung to me, and shook her head vigorously.
“I-I don't want to join the Crimson Tiger Unit. We'd have to leave the cult too often.”
“!!!”
Surprised by Seon-a's refusal, Eldest Senior Brother's eyes widened before he laughed loudly.
“Hahaha! What are you saying! To grow as a martial artist, you need diverse experiences! No matter how good it is here, holing up in the cult won't get you to the top!”
A man in his forties lecturing a pre-teen girl looked exactly like a boomer nagging.
And then my suddenly sullen third senior brother chimed in.
“If you hate going out, then the Shadow Assassination Pavilion's no good either…”
The Shadow Assassination Pavilion, where third senior brother belonged, was essentially an intelligence agency. Though it doubled as assassins.
Either way, its nature meant frequent absences from the cult.
More importantly.
‘You shouldn't recommend assassination or intel ops to a twelve-year-old!’
Afraid they'd corrupt Seon-a, I quickly intervened.
“Hahaha. Eldest Senior Brother's moving to a new post soon anyway, right? And Shadow Assassination Pavilion work seems too harsh for young Seon-a yet, Third Senior Brother.”
The Crimson Tiger Unit leadership felt like too low a position for an Extreme Demon like Eldest Senior Brother anyway.
During the academy-related matters, I'd heard the unit couldn't deploy because he was tied to headquarters.
So probably a personnel shift soon.
“And if Seon-a doesn't want to leave the cult, how about the Protectorate or the Enforcers?”
The Protectorate guarded key figures and facilities in the cult. The Enforcers punished apostates who broke the laws, imprisoning and managing them.
Beyond that, there were five prestigious clans like the Hyeok-ryeon Clan, the Food Provision Hall managing the cult's provisions, Jin Ha-yeon's Hidden Guard Pavilion, and the Elders' Hall—though Seon-a wouldn't go there.
The cult's Elders' Hall was unique. From my modern perspective, it was like a club for honorable retirees who never made executive level.
Mid-level managers who rose but couldn't reach Extreme Demon with advanced demonic arts to lead organizations, now passing roles to rising youth after hitting age limits.
Anyway, before Seon-a could respond to my suggestion, Eldest Senior Brother spoke.
“Hm. The Protectorate and Enforcers still leave the cult sometimes.”
A sharp observation uncharacteristic of him.
‘Well, he's not completely dumb.’
He was right.
If the protected figure left the cult, so did the guards. Like when Elder Jang or Gwan Mu-yeol toured Singang with me.
Enforcers also left headquarters to hunt fleeing apostates.
Though Eldest Senior Brother had another reason for pointing it out.
‘Eek! Kids these days! Always avoiding hard work! Back in my day~.’
That sentiment was clear in his gaze at Seon-a.
I'd thought only Master was the boomer, but Eldest Senior Brother was one too.
Well, older generations griping about youth is a time-honored human tradition.
Even ancient artifacts often bore complaints about "kids these days."
But surprisingly, to Eldest Senior Brother's point, Seon-a replied with sparkling eyes.
“I'll go to the Protectorate!”
“The Protectorate goes out a lot too!”
“That's fine! If it's with big brother.”
She said, looking up at me with those sparkling eyes.
“Uhahaha! Now I see—you don't hate leaving the cult, you just hate being apart from our little junior!! Kahahaha!”
Realizing Seon-a's true feelings, Eldest Senior Brother roared with laughter.
Embarrassed by her own outburst, especially with him stating it bluntly, Seon-a clung even closer to me.
I stroked the cute kid's head and glanced sideways.
There was Gwan Mu-yeol, staring blankly into space with a stoic expression, as if our chatter had nothing to do with him.
Recalling Jang Hui standing guard at Wind Rock Hall's entrance like a human doorbell, a thought struck me.
‘Better to have Seon-a as my guard than sticking with these stuffy guys?’
Above all, Seon-a felt solidly "on my side," so I'd probably relax completely.
* * *
Days rolled by like a hamster wheel.
Over half a year since Il-mok was dragged into this cult, and he'd finally devoured the scriptures, history books, and now the legal codes.
Of course, perfect recall after one read was impossible without genius. Steady review was needed until the enrollment exam.
Separately, Il-mok felt the need to tweak his schedule slightly.
Shorten morning study, extend training.
He worried about Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword side effects, but the past two months taught him something.
The obvious fact that the realm and side effects were proportional.
In other words.
‘As long as the realm doesn't skyrocket, the side effects won't explode.’
Il-mok clearly noticed side effects twice: first inner power use, and absorbing Explosive Demon Pill plus Marrow Cleansing.
Times when his realm exploded upward.
As long as it didn't surge violently, the risk of madness or Demonic Deviation was "lower."
Conversely, slow growth meant side effects could seep in unnoticed.
Even knowing that, Il-mok chose to raise his realm slowly.
Demonic Path Academy enrollment and revenge on Uncle Tae-hyeon. Those two goals made it necessary.
Having finished his usual schedule and gone to bed, how much time passed?
The new moon, once a month, when the moon hid behind darkness.
Slipping through the unusually dark sky, something pitch-black cautiously entered Wind Rock Hall.
Emitting no presence, it glided like a shadow toward Il-mok's quarters.
Whoosh.
Matching the faint night breeze, it silently opened the door and slipped inside.
Greeted inside was Il-mok, calmly sitting up in bed.
“Yawwwn. Third Senior Brother. You're back?”
Il-mok stretched lazily to greet him.
Third senior brother, who'd left for a Shadow Assassination Pavilion mission days ago, returned today.
Just in case, Il-mok had tied a thin thread from the door to his arm.
So any door movement would vibrate to him.
From repeated ambushes by third senior brother. Waking in panic from sleep ruined the next day's schedule. This was a desperate measure born of obsession.
Yet for some reason, despite Il-mok's greeting, the shadow showed no reaction.
It just stood there, gazing down at him briefly.
As if pondering something, the shadow moved.
Flash!
“!!!”
The shadow lunged in an instant. From its side emerged a blade coated in ink, reflecting no light.
Sleep vanished; Il-mok instinctively rolled aside, barely dodging the strike.
Slice!
No—he thought he dodged, but his forearm was lightly cut.
‘Damn. He finally lost it?’
Thinking that, Il-mok drew his sword.
The roll was partly to evade, but mainly to grab the sword by the bed.
Faster than Il-mok could draw, the mad senior swung a second killing blade.
Its ink-coated path barely visible, yet Il-mok's innate eyes faintly read it.
Clang!!
He barely blocked with his half-drawn sword.
Grind.
Slice.
Even channeling max inner power, the blades met briefly before his sword snapped in two.
As the mad assassin who severed it closed in.
Il-mok realized a crucial fact.
‘This guy's not Third Senior Brother.’