Chapter 118. An Unjust Fall – To Mere Poison
The head instructor glared at Won Seung with a hardened face. His jaw clenched tight, grinding his teeth in fury. Too enraged to speak, he faltered, but Won Seung just grinned and taunted him.
"What, you scared? If you're chicken, get on your knees."
"You bastard!"
The head instructor fell for the provocation. A cold flash of sword light streaked toward Won Seung's entire body.
Won Seung's sword moved calmly, guarding the front. It was the Cheonjung Geombeop. Matching a quick sword with another quick sword would put him at a disadvantage, so he countered with a heavy blade style.
His sword swung with ponderous weight, batting away the flashy sword light. Though slow and heavy, his feet danced nimbly in compensation.
Clang! Clang!
The head instructor's sword light bounced off Won Seung's hefty blade. He couldn't help but be surprised anew. He'd sensed it in the dining hall too... but this kid's internal energy matched his own.
He'd have been horrified if he knew Won Seung hadn't even unleashed the full might of his Musanggyeol yet.
The head instructor poured his internal energy higher, aiming for a swift finish. With his full-powered secret technique, he could take the brat down.
But his lower back and kidneys ached dully.
'Am I really poisoned?'
Panicking inwardly, the head instructor realized Won Seung had claimed he'd poisoned the dining hall's drinking water—even if he hadn't inhaled the smoke bomb's powder.
He released his internal energy and switched back to quick swordplay.
Klang!
His grip nearly tore as Won Seung's heavy strike hammered in. The head instructor frowned without realizing it.
'Who the hell taught this punk the Cheonjung Geombeop?'
The Cheonjung Geombeop was a technique reserved even at headquarters for those who'd earned significant merit. Seeing Won Seung wield it was shocking.
The two clashed fiercely, never breaking eye contact. Losing sight of your opponent's eyes mid-fight was suicidal.
The moment Won Seung felt the internal energy drain from the head instructor's sword, he knew the poison was taking effect.
His eyes curved in silent laughter.
'You've got symptoms kicking in, huh?'
The final powder he'd scattered entering the dining hall stimulated the shinpyesan in the upper kitchen's water supply. Shinpyesan was a chronic toxin that wrecked the kidneys. The powder itself was harmless, but inhaled by someone already poisoned with shinpyesan, it immediately disrupted kidney function.
When the head instructor had smashed the dining hall door with a single strike, the powder on the ground must have billowed up—and he'd breathed it in.
'In that case... I'll make you use your internal energy.'
Won Seung unleashed a heavy slash. To parry it, the head instructor had to channel energy. Pride wouldn't let him dodge. He lightly infused his sword and shoved it aside, realizing then that moderate use didn't trigger the back pain.
Scrrring!
The head instructor's sword sped up again, and Won Seung's eyes narrowed.
'Yeah, keep using that internal energy.'
Their duel had passed thirty exchanges, evenly matched with no clear edge. The watching instructors clicked their tongues inwardly.
How's that kid holding his own?
Rumors of a Ten Perfect Assassin graduate... it was him.
As smoke rose from the burning barracks and the children emerged, they'd formed groups of three.
'Good... three per group should handle one smoke-poisoned instructor.'
Won Seung nodded inwardly as the kids arrayed in triangular formations.
Then, the head instructor's sword flashed before him.
Whoosh!
Swoosh!
Won Seung whipped his head aside, barely dodging. A moment's distraction, and he'd nearly been done in.
The head instructor inwardly cursed his miss. He'd aimed to end it when the kid glanced at the emerging children—but damn, he'd evaded.
The profundity of the Musanggyeol heart method lay in linking corresponding yin-yang acupoints during energy circulation. This demanded focus on those points, naturally expanding awareness. At mastery, it mimicked the Wudang dual mind technique, splitting consciousness.
Right now, facing the head instructor, Won Seung could still peripherally scan surroundings and multitask thoughts. Against a quick-sword expert, dividing focus was insanely risky—but he did it instinctively, unaware of the danger.
Thirty-three kids total. Minus No. 13 and four others, twenty-eight. Excluding himself, twenty-seven—nine groups of three.
The children fanned out behind Won Seung in formation. Jang Chil's injured group took the rearmost position.
Nine instructors left after one died; with the head instructor dueling Won Seung, eight remained.
If only No. 13's group had made it... no, they drew off two instructors—that's a win already.
As kids and instructors squared off, Won Seung and the head instructor fought on. Tonight's outcome hinged on their duel.
'Just take down the head instructor! Finish the pig before he wakes!'
Won Seung resolved to gamble. Tucked in his waistband behind was the dagger from his master.
'Block one strike...'
Various Sailgwancheon moves flashed through his mind. One resembled what No. 2 had used yesterday.
Lying back to thrust while facing away from the foe. A vicious technique, but failure meant death.
But without risk, there was no chance!
Suddenly, Won Seung wildly swept his sword left and right, pressing forward. Abandoning the Cheonjung Geombeop's weight, he shifted to the Tae-eul Geombeop's variations and illusions.
Though Won Seung's style changed abruptly, the head instructor didn't flinch. True to his quick-sword mastery, he severed the paths of feint and illusion with rapid strikes. After a flurry, Won Seung exhaled raggedly, seeming winded.
'This bastard's up to tricks again!'
The head instructor no longer trusted Won Seung's feigned exhaustion. A cunning, dangerous punk full of petty schemes.
Won Seung swept his sword horizontally and twisted. The head instructor's blade targeted the now-open flank. As Won Seung naturally twisted to evade, his back faced the instructor.
"Hmph!"
The head instructor saw through it and sneered coldly. Stab the back now, and he'd flip and counter for the throat.
Yesterday, Elder Ki had shown how to counter this. As Won Seung reclined backward, the head instructor sidestepped and kicked up with his left foot.
'It's over!'
An energy-infused kick to the back would snap the spine—game over.
But... as Won Seung tilted as if falling, he abruptly stepped back twice, regaining balance.
Every technique had flaws. No single weapon could cover the whole body, so you guarded your openings while attacking. The Sailgwancheon inverted this—exposing a fatal gap to bait the assault, then using variations to deflect the weapon or evade oddly, targeting the foe's chundol acupoint.
Now, the head instructor sidestepped right, kicking with his left foot. Won Seung backpedaled in a reclined form, passing before him.
Thud!
The head instructor's instep struck the dagger tucked at Won Seung's lower back. Simultaneously, his sword plunged toward Won Seung's exposed belly.
But then—
"Gah!"
Won Seung's flailing sword snapped upright, surging to impale the head instructor's chundol acupoint.
Thud!
"Urk!"
He'd dodged the energy in the kick, but the impact was unavoidable. Won Seung released his sword, rolled sideways, and sprawled frog-like on the ground.
The head instructor stood frozen like a pillar, then toppled backward with a thud.
"Ahh!"
"Whoa!"
Instructors gasped in shock; the children cheered.
A trainee... had taken down the head instructor!
Won Seung sprang up from his frog sprawl, yanked the sword from the instructor's throat, and rubbed his lower back.
"Ahhgh!"
Good thing the dagger was there and he'd infused energy—otherwise, his hip bone would've shattered.
Glancing at the head instructor, his eyes bulged wide in death.
'Unjust. To fall to mere poison...'
No one knew the final, excruciating back pain had disrupted his energy flow.
"……."
"……."
After gasps and cheers crossed, silence fell over the dining hall clearing.
One instructor spoke.
"You've chosen the path to death."
The instructors were all-in now. They raised their swords. Tension crackled—one spark, and it would ignite.
Then, from the upper barracks, heavy footsteps thundered down with a bellow.
"Head instructor! Where's the head instructor!"
Sa Gyo-du was storming down, fuming.
'Ah, the pig bastard finally woke up.'
Won Seung's face hardened.
The dining hall area swarmed with patrol and watch guards encircling them. All instructors were here too, so the upper barracks should've been empty.
He figured the lone-woken Sa Gyo-du was just throwing a tantrum on his way down.
But...
Sa Gyo-du dragged two by the hair, one in each hand.
No. 13? And No. 14?
* * *
Sa Gyo-du was a Peak Expert. The head instructor's light acupoint strike had worn off quickly. Normally, he'd have passed out drunk as usual. But amid his drunken stupor, he heard clashing weapons.
Someone screaming too? Too annoying—he ignored it, rolling over.
Then, someone slipped into his room. Sa Gyo-du's eyes snapped open; he thunderously rolled off the bed.
Crack!
A sword stabbed the bed. Another flew in!
Sa Gyo-du slapped the blade flat with his left hand lightning-fast, spun, and booted the assassin.
Thump!
"Kgh!"
Two of them?
One flew back from the kick; the other... as his bleary, bloodshot eyes scanned, something pierced his gut.
Stab!
A dagger sank into his belly. He blocked it instantly with energy. His piggish belly blunted the dagger's force.
Sa Gyo-du kicked the foot assassin. He blocked with his arm—crack. Sa Gyo-du smashed the thug's skull with his meaty palm, knocking him out.
'Hah, these little shits...'
His booze-addled brain grasped the situation instantly. Trainees on the cusp of graduation, no doubt.
But where were his guards? Breached by trainees? Slack as hell at the end. They're all dead meat.
Grinding his teeth, Sa Gyo-du lit a lamp.
One thug slumped against the wall, the other face-down on the floor. His stabbed belly throbbed.
He yanked the dagger free—blood gushed. Sa Gyo-du smeared golden sore salve, wrapped it tight with cloth, and donned his outer robe.
'These bastards dared stab my gut?'
Time for an example. Beat them to death in front of everyone.
Snarling, Sa Gyo-du seized the young assassins' hair and dragged them outside.
But the lower barracks sky glowed bright. Flames soared, white smoke billowing into the black night.
'What? Fire?'
Sa Gyo-du hauled the assassins toward the lower barracks.
The mood grew stranger the closer he got. Battle traces scarred the path—fresh bloodstains too.
Down below, the kids' dining hall burned; everyone from the mountain had gathered.
'These shits torched the hall to lure folks out and targeted me!'
Twisted to fit his narrative, Sa Gyo-du scowled fiercely and charged toward the dining hall.
"Head instructor! Where's the head instructor!"