Shadow Warrior (3)
The husband nodded at his wife's question with a meaningful expression.
"Yeah, right. Shall we make twins today too?"
"Oh, you... Don't say such creepy things on the street."
Not displeased at all, the wife lightly smacked her husband's side.
"Ouch! I'm dying."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm dying, so let's hurry home."
The husband joked around as he pulled his wife along.
Yi Mu-myeong watched them fondly, then touched his own face.
"Fourth Young Master, do I resemble you?"
"A little."
Han Bin's answer was actually a lie. It wasn't just a little—they looked very similar.
That was precisely why Han Bin had wanted Yi Mu-myeong.
In his previous life, among his Ghost Sword Squad subordinates, there had been a friend from the Henan Jeong Family. When that subordinate first met Han Bin, he'd mistaken him for Yi Mu-myeong.
Later, he'd expressed regret.
If only they'd recruited Yi Mu-myeong into the Ghost Sword Squad—his potential for use would have been limitless.
Of course, by then, Yi Mu-myeong had already vanished from the jianghu.
Han Bin had hoped that if Yi Mu-myeong ever returned, he could use him as a shadow warrior.
What was a shadow warrior?
Simply put, someone to stand in for Han Bin in his absence.
With similar hairstyles and outfits, Han Bin was confident Yi Mu-myeong would make an excellent one.
They passed through the bustling streets and entered an alley leading to the outskirts.
This was the village's only entrance.
Just as Han Bin and Yi Mu-myeong were about to exchange farewells,
a young boy came running up to Han Bin.
"Mister, want to come to our place for some delicious food before you go?"
He tossed out the line, then looked up at Han Bin with sparkling eyes.
He seemed like a kid touting for a nearby eatery.
As Han Bin started to wave him off, Yi Mu-myeong spoke first.
"Fourth Young Master, I regret it too. How about one more drink before we part?"
Han Bin smiled faintly.
Judging by his behavior so far, Yi Mu-myeong wasn't the type to suggest more drinks first.
This was proof of how much he hated to leave Hebei.
Han Bin was certain he'd return to his side someday.
"Sure. The night's still young anyway. Let's drink till our noses are crooked tonight."
"Haha, excellent, Young Master."
Yi Mu-myeong grinned broadly.
* * *
A short while later,
Following the boy's lead, Han Bin and Yi Mu-myeong arrived at a rundown tavern.
It looked like a regular house slightly modified to serve as one.
As Han Bin entered and glanced around with a curious expression, Yi Mu-myeong asked,
"Young Master, is this your first time at a shabby place like this?"
"Yeah, I was just surprised there's a tavern way out here. Wonder if it even does any business."
"Worrying about their business too? Fourth Young Master, you're too good-hearted. Well, since business is bad, they even send out kids to tout."
Yi Mu-myeong's view of him as good-hearted was clouded by affection.
Han Bin slightly lifted the corner of his mouth as he looked at the boy.
"Thanks for guiding us here, kid."
Han Bin pulled a copper coin from his pocket and placed it in the boy's hand.
Then, as if pitying him, he gently held the boy's hand.
Seeing Han Bin's endlessly benevolent demeanor, Yi Mu-myeong smiled warmly.
At that moment, the tavern door opened, and a woman with her hair tied back tightly emerged.
"Oh, customers..."
She trailed off, glancing at the boy.
"Jeya, you brought them? I told you not to go out at night—it's dangerous."
"No, Mom. There were no customers today, so we have tons of food left."
The boy made a face like he might cry.
Yi Mu-myeong stepped in.
"Innkeeper, no need to worry. We didn't come for the kid. We were looking for a quiet tavern for one more drink anyway."
"Oh, thank you. Our place is too shabby for young masters like you..."
As the woman trailed off again, Yi Mu-myeong waved it off.
"Not at all. Please show us to a table."
"This way, then..."
Han Bin followed behind them, wearing an ambiguous smile.
Once seated, bottles of liquor lined up neatly beside Han Bin and Yi Mu-myeong.
Yi Mu-myeong, who had been eagerly digging in with his chopsticks, remarked,
"For a rundown tavern, the meat's surprisingly fresh, and the liquor tastes good too, Fourth Young Master."
"Right? The meat's so fresh. I was worried when they said there was a lot left over today..."
"Indeed."
"I'm glad my guard likes it. But I think I've had too much to drink."
"Yes, you've drunk more than I have, Young Master."
"Guess I need to step out for a bit."
"Of course, Young Master."
Yi Mu-myeong, in high spirits, clasped his hands in a fist salute while seated.
"Heh, I said no need for formalities."
Chuckling, Han Bin rose and headed outside.
But even after time enough for a cup of tea, Han Bin didn't return.
Worried, Yi Mu-myeong stood up.
Or tried to.
The world spun, and he collapsed back into his seat.
At that moment, the woman rushed out from the kitchen.
"Customer, are you alright? Customer!"
She shook Yi Mu-myeong's shoulder.
But he didn't so much as twitch.
In an instant, the woman's expression changed.
Glancing toward the kitchen, she murmured lowly,
"Perfectly poisoned, Boss."
At her words, the boy from earlier slowly walked out from the kitchen.
The boy silently held a hand to Yi Mu-myeong's nose.
Feeling the weakened breath, he smirked.
"Well, his mind's still sharp, but his body won't move an inch."
The boy's voice had changed.
Gone was the childish tone; now it was a thick, middle-aged man's voice.
"As expected of Boss's nerve poison. Hehe."
The woman giggled flirtatiously, and the boy narrowed his eyes.
"Where's the other one?"
"Probably passed out outside."
"Then go grab him. What are you waiting for?"
"He drank more. Enough to drop a bull in seconds—he won't wake for two days. Let's carve this one first."
"Fine. Get the tools. Something sharp!"
"Got it, Boss."
The woman scurried back to the kitchen.
As they'd said, the poison Yi Mu-myeong had fallen to was a nerve toxin.
Its key trait: it paralyzed the body instantly while leaving the mind fully aware.
That was why Yi Mu-myeong heard every word of their conversation.
Not being a jianghu novice, he could guess the situation.
He'd been caught by so-called man-eating demons.
Even the meat he'd eaten might be human flesh.
A nauseating feeling welled up, but his body wouldn't respond.
That wasn't the real problem.
The bigger issue was that he might end up as filling in a dumpling.
What terrified Yi Mu-myeong most was that Han Bin—the good man he'd just met after so long—was in danger too.
As their talk suggested, Han Bin had drunk more, so he'd surely collapsed on the way to the outhouse.
Sudden regret flooded him.
He regretted never calling Han Bin his lord.
Heh.
Yi Mu-myeong chuckled inwardly. Ridiculous regrets at the brink of death.
So where was the Han Bin that Yi Mu-myeong worried about?
Surprisingly close—perched on a beam overhead, watching the whole scene.
How had this come to pass?
The answer was simple.
Han Bin had noticed several suspicious signs on the way here.
Who leaves the village entrance at evening?
If the kid was touting, he'd wait outside to catch incoming travelers.
Why? Otherwise, rivals waiting outside would snag all the customers. Obvious.
And the disguise was sloppy.
They'd masked the face but not the hand's texture.
Han Bin had realized this wasn't a normal tavern when he handed the coin and gripped the boy's hand.
The clincher? The food they'd prepared.
It was from Manyang Inn, the village's best eatery. Meant to tempt with freshness and flavor—but Han Bin had long memorized the local inns' tastes.
To Han Bin, they were amateur villains.
Having foreseen everything, he'd dumped all the liquor from his gourd into his waist flask.
So why hadn't Han Bin cut them down and was just watching?
He wanted to know their intent.
Simple man-eaters? Or assassins sent for him and Yi Mu-myeong?
From the conversation so far, they seemed like assassins—who enjoyed killing.
Emotions in murder ruined jobs.
Han Bin's conclusion: they weren't top-tier killers.
Tsk!
Han Bin smacked his lips. Whoever sent them had cheaped out, assuming he was easy prey.
As Han Bin observed, the woman emerged with a cleaver.
A massive butcher's knife, like a cleaver split in half.
Dried blood left dark stains on the blade.
Sticky marks clung with strands of human hair, evoking horror.
The boy said,
"Ah, I told you to sharpen it before work. Leaving it like this after carving dulls the blade."
"Got it, Boss. Quit nagging."
"That's why I say manage your tools. Oh well, we'll make do today."
The boy raised the cleaver high, poised to bisect.
Han Bin could wait no longer and circulated the Jeon-gwang-seok-hwa formula from the Yongrin Sword Art.
Whoosh.
Yongrin Sword Art energy surged through his meridians like a torrent.
Just as Han Bin was about to leap down,
Creak!
The door opened, and a man in white martial robes entered.
"Innkeeper."
At the new arrival, the boy quickly handed the cleaver to the woman.
She tossed it beside the kitchen and replied innocently,
"Yes? What can I do for you?"
"Came to refill some liquor."
The man handed her several gourds.
Nothing unusual in the jianghu.
On long journeys day and night, travelers often refilled at taverns like this, resting briefly to sip roadside.
"What liquor shall I fill them with?"
"Regular rice wine's fine."
"Yes, one moment."
The woman's eyes gleamed as she turned to the kitchen.
As she vanished, the white-robed warrior glanced at the boy.
"Cute kid."
The warrior patted the boy's head. Faint wrinkles formed between the boy's brows.
But the warrior didn't notice.
Then the door opened again, and this time a woman in white martial robes entered.
She asked the warrior,
"Why so late?"
"Sorry. Innkeeper's in the kitchen filling liquor—should be out soon."
"Got it. Thirsty, though. Find some water."
At her words, the warrior scanned the room.
Then the boy flicked his gaze to one side.
To hide the water flask laced with nerve poison.
But it backfired, creating a misunderstanding.
Mistaking the glance for a pointer, the warrior grabbed the nerve poison-filled flask.