Besieged on All Sides (7)
"Blood Wolf Sword, huh..."
Han Bin tilted his head, and Seol-hwa crossed her arms with a grin.
"I figured we'd call it that after the title His Majesty the Emperor bestowed on you before—Blood Wolf Young Master."
"Hm, do whatever you want."
"Actually, not just Blood Wolf Sword. It should be the Right Blood Wolf Sword."
"Right Blood Wolf Sword?"
Han Bin cocked his head again.
Pointing at the Blood Wolf Sword, Seol-hwa explained.
"There's one more, right?"
"..."
Han Bin tilted his head once more.
He himself had just mentioned there was an extra one moments ago.
Seol-hwa beamed as she continued.
"If you give that to someone else, they'll probably claim to be your right-hand man. To reserve the spot as Young Master's right hand ahead of time, I thought it'd be good to mark the dagger as the 'right-hand' one. Hehe."
Han Bin chuckled at Seol-hwa's silly grin.
"Handle that however you like too, Seol-hwa."
"Yes, Young Master. Then I'll go replenish my stamina and prep for the hunt."
"Go ahead."
"I'll be off now."
Seol-hwa bowed politely and slipped out of Han Bin's room.
Once she was gone, Han Bin muttered to himself.
"Wonder if Mu-myeong will get jealous?"
He shook his head quietly.
This was a mission where more people meant greater risk.
Too many hands could turn from help to hindrance at times.
Now it was time for Han Bin to prepare for the decisive battle in his own way.
He pulled out the White Spirit Pill Jin Semi had given him.
Sitting cross-legged, Han Bin popped it into his mouth and chewed without hesitation.
He'd chosen today to consume the spirit pill because it was the day with the most vibrant yang energy.
His goal: absorb the White Spirit Pill today and push his innate inner power to one jia.
The reason for timing the pill's absorption so precisely was simple.
The effects of spirit pills diminished with repeated use.
In other words, even the same elixir might grant ten years of inner power the first time, five the next, two after that, and eventually not even half a year.
The efficacy reduction phenomenon that murim dwellers often spoke of.
This theory had held true so far.
But the White Spirit Pill was a treasure of the Henan Baeksa Gate.
Even accounting for reduction, it was an elixir potent enough to fill a first-rate warrior with ten years of inner power.
So Han Bin was confident: after this dose, he'd easily reach one jia of innate inner power.
He swallowed the pill as casually as a snack, then closed his eyes in meditation.
Han Bin opened his eyes exactly one hour later.
That night.
The half-tilted moon cast a leisurely haze over the inn, as if gazing down indifferently on the world.
When darkness and moonlight blended just right, two faint shadows slipped out from the inn housing the Red Blood Alliance Tiger Squad.
Their speed was so blinding that even the birds perched on the fence didn't notice.
Cheong Yeon, narrowing her eyes in the moonlight as she watched the inn, never imagined those two shadows escaping.
She simply focused on her sense of smell.
What if someone from the inn slipped out while hidden?
They might conceal their form, but not their scent.
Distinguishing those scents required no great effort.
The village smells boiled down to two kinds.
One was the odor of ordinary folk—essentially scentless.
The other was those poisoned by Heolhyeolcho, carrying the faint tang of blood toxin in their bodies.
Anyone poisoned by blood toxin would be holed up at home, mistaking it for plague. So anyone reeking of it had to be an ally.
Ignoring ally scents and focusing on the rest was simple enough.
Just zero in on the smell of untainted humans.
Cheong Yeon kept her eyes fixed unblinking on the inn while channeling all her qi into her nose.
But she never dreamed someone was watching her from behind.
Two pairs of eyes fixed on Cheong Yeon.
Han Bin and Seol-hwa, naturally.
The Red Blood Alliance Tiger Squad and the rest waited inside the inn.
Yi Mu-myeong, disguised as Han Bin, lounged in the front courtyard, while the other squad members sat openly there clutching liquor bottles.
Not that the bottles held real booze.
It was camouflage to lower enemy guards.
The moment Han Bin blew the horn pipe, they'd spring like lightning.
Of course, that was the last resort.
Han Bin planned to slit the enemies' throats before it came to a brawl.
He signaled Seol-hwa with a hand gesture.
Let's move, Seol-hwa.
Yes, Young Master.
They communicated silently with signs.
In an instant, they vanished with only the whisper of wind.
Whoosh—crackle.
Han Bin scouted the enemy's numbers alongside Seol-hwa.
In a life-or-death bloodbath, nothing mattered more than know thyself and know thy enemy.
He knew himself well enough already. Now, grasping the enemy's full strength would let him calculate odds.
If they slightly outnumbered him, hit-and-run tactics over days would be smarter than ending it in one go.
But if they overwhelmingly dominated? Best to bail immediately.
Having sized up the enemy, Han Bin cracked a sly smile.
Roughly thirty strong.
Three super peaks, five peaks, the rest first-rate masters.
That was by inner power alone.
The real key was how much poison they'd accumulated, but he could neutralize them before it mattered.
No one he'd seen was poisoned to the hair follicles yet, so suppression was feasible.
Conclusion: he could handle them situationally.
The issue was that Hwagyeong master he'd faintly sensed earlier. Whether a slip-up or a ploy to lure him into complacency, no presence lingered within two hundred paces.
If the Hwagyeong revealed themselves?
He and Seol-hwa could just duck behind the fence.
The Heuksa Gate crew made perfect shields right now.
Han Bin's eyes gleamed as he eyed select targets.
Then he glanced up at the empty sky.
[Human-grade - Gold]
Confirming the formula, Han Bin smacked his lips while eyeing the shimmering points on his targets' bodies.
Steal those formulas, and he'd have a human-grade one in the bag in no time.
To Han Bin, they weren't foes—they were prey.
Worst case, snag the needed formulas and bolt.
As he geared to charge, Han Bin glanced at Seol-hwa.
What the...?
He stifled a laugh.
Seol-hwa was smacking her lips too.
It was her new habit lately.
Whether on purpose or not, she'd started mimicking Han Bin.
Chucking softly, he signaled her: Go stealth and cover the rear.
Seol-hwa erased her presence completely and melted into the shadows.
Slither.
Han Bin circulated his techniques.
Gugeol Ship-pal-bo.
Jeon-gwang-seok-hwa.
Baekbal Baekjung.
With everything prepped, he too vanished with a chilling hiss.
Whoosh-crackle.
At the same time, Han Bin flung silver needles at a black-masked foe exposed in the moonlight.
His first two targets.
Flick.
Flick.
Four needles flew true, two apiece.
Thuk. Thuk!
They sank into shoulders and throats.
Pressure points for movement and speech sealed.
Thud.
Both crumpled in place, and Han Bin appeared before them.
To the wide-eyed Heuksa Gate guards, he looked like a ghost.
But they quickly realized it was no illusion.
Han Bin eyed the foremost fallen black-clad man and murmured low.
"Blink once if yes, twice if no."
No response.
Undeterred, Han Bin pressed on.
"Including your captain, how many? Thirty?"
"..."
Still nothing.
Han Bin nudged the man with his foot.
A light tap flipped him face-down.
That was when trouble hit.
The needles hadn't hit vital points per se—but only if struck with precise depth and qi.
His body weight drove them clean through: out the nape and back shoulder.
Front side sealed speech and motion; exit wounds hit maximum pain points.
The black-clad man shuddered violently from the agony.
It was the classic murim torture: marrow-crushing bone-ripping.
But Han Bin offered no mercy.
Ignoring the writhing man, he approached the second.
The second black-clad, seeing his comrade foam and convulse like lightning-struck, blinked frantically at Han Bin.
A sign of cooperation.
From him, Han Bin got the exact count: thirty-six, a tad more than estimated.
As he left, Han Bin glanced at the first man's hand, lying skyward.
What technique did poison cultivators favor most?
Poison Palm, naturally.
The hand delivered toxin over the largest area.
Thus, hands revealed their prowess.
Poison Palm users wore gloves like these—camouflaging as ordinary folk, hiding their level.
Who'd approach a known poison human anyway?
Faint blue lines traced his skin.
First-rate level, by normal arts standards—a solid poison human.
Rising, Han Bin said,
"No poison on those needles, so relax."
"..."
No words, but relief in his eyes.
Han Bin smirked.
What did poison humans fear most?
Poison, ironically.
"Not poison—just plague blood. Soon you'll reek like that guy by the fence. So decide: die by your master's hand, or flee and buy time. That's all from me."
With only rustling leaves, Han Bin vanished.
Whoosh—crackle.
He repeated the process on ten more black-clad sentries.
Sentries down, the scattered enemy couldn't detect him.
Now, pick them off one by one.
Plan: Seol-hwa on confirmed first-rate poison humans; Han Bin on the rest.
He beckoned, and Seol-hwa appeared.
Slither.
Han Bin unrolled a map of the inn's surroundings, marked with downed sentries and remaining foes.
He pointed to targets Seol-hwa could handle.
Now close enough for whispers.
Han Bin briefed her in detail.
Once done, he added,
"If they scream, pull back immediately."
"Got it, Young Master."
Nodding, Seol-hwa paused thoughtfully.
"Earlier, why didn't you kill the sentries, Young Master?"