Who’s Trying to Kill Me?
“I saw you tailing me the whole way. Just come on in. I won’t hurt you.”
The bushes rustled in two spots. They were hesitating.
Won Seung shook the wine bottle.
“Let’s have a drink and talk it out honestly. Why are you chasing me? Want something? Need money?”
The two hidden figures blinked in confusion for a moment. Does he think we’re bandits?
Let’s play along as bandits!
They exchanged glances and nodded. Gwang-ho Gongja’s orders had been to uncover the man’s identity—without getting caught, of course. But they’d already been spotted. Fine, then. They’d pose as bandits and pry it out of him.
They’d seen him use lightness skill, but it wasn’t anything special. And that flat Solar Meridian point? Meant his internal energy was weak. A scowl and a few punches, and he’d spill everything.
The pair emerged from the bushes and entered the Yongshin Hall.
“Sharp eyes you’ve got. You spotted us last time too, and now again right away.”
In the meantime, Won Seung had grabbed cups from the altar, wiped them clean with a swipe, sat cross-legged, and uncorked the bottle from his belt to pour.
“Brought it to offer the Dragon King, but we can have some first.”
As if to prove there was no poison, Won Seung gulped it down. Then he poured again and held it out. The intruders couldn’t fathom his nonchalance. Shouldn’t he be trembling in fear?
The two stood a zhang away, staring blankly at Won Seung. Drinking from a stranger’s cup? That was a quick way to die in the jianghu.
Won Seung sighed and spoke again.
“If you don’t want any, let’s cut to the chase. Why are you following me?”
“……”
They didn’t answer, just exchanged looks before darting to Won Seung’s sides. Each grabbed an arm, twisting to force him to his knees.
But Won Seung didn’t budge. Instead…
“Thanks for coming to me…”
His seized arms whipped around, clamping their elbow meridians.
“Kuh!”
Their eyes bulged impossibly wide. What kind of power…?
They were first-rate experts under Gwang-ho Gongja, but they couldn’t withstand the sudden burst of Won Seung’s one-jia force.
With their elbows sealed, they were powerless. Won Seung yanked them up, somersaulting in midair with them in tow.
“Urk!”
Twisted arms threw off their balance. In that instant, Won Seung pulled hard—their heads cracked together.
Thud!
As stars exploded before their eyes, a chop struck their napes. Won Seung’s hand blade had found their necks. As they crumpled, he swiftly jabbed paralyzing needles into them. Then he pried their mouths open and poured in a mix of Monghon Powder and Chwimimonghonju.
Moments later… under the Chwimimonghonju’s haze, they wandered in Monghon Powder’s hallucinations.
“Ah… ugh! It wasn’t me…”
“Uahaha! You bastard… finally in my grasp…”
Same poison, opposite reactions. Personality, probably.
It worked, though.
“From Seongwangbu?”
“Sob sob, I’m under Gwang-ho Gongja. Please spare me… it wasn’t me. I didn’t kill anyone. I just…”
One wailed, wracked with guilt. The other…
“Kahaha! That’s right. Gwang-ho Gongja’s right-hand man… kneel!”
Arrogant to the end. The info wasn’t much: Gwang-ho Gongja was Seongwang’s adopted son and closest confidant, a secret weapon, and they’d been after Won Seung’s identity.
Won Seung eyed the guilt-ridden warrior sniffling endlessly and pulled a Soul Oblivion Pill from his bosom.
“Forget the painful memories and live free. Clinging to the past makes you pathetic. I’m saving you.”
He fed each a pill and left Yongshin Hall.
Seongwangbu doesn’t know who I am yet. So who sent the assassin?
He’d have to find out himself. Plenty of Chwimimonghonju left.
Two black-clad men advanced cautiously through the dense forest, keeping a slight distance.
Suddenly.
Shick!
A shuriken flew from the underbrush. The black-clad man twisted away, parrying with his sword.
Clang!
Lightning-fast, Jang Chil burst from the bushes, slashing low to sever the man’s leg as he blocked.
“Kuh!”
As the man staggered, his distant comrade fired a crossbow.
Thuk!
Jang Chil spun desperately, but the bolt buried into his right shoulder. His saber nearly slipped. He switched to his left hand and slashed upward.
“Guh!”
The leg-wounded man, reeling back, spewed blood from his throat and toppled.
Jang Chil charged again.
“You bastard!”
The crossbowman cursed his dead comrade and pursued.
“Haa…”
Jang Chil’s lightness skill was superb, but he’d hit his limit. Taking out three had left him battered. No time to yank the bolt from his shoulder.
Just one more…
Shick!
Another bolt whistled. Jang Chil ducked instinctively—it grazed his scalp and thunked into a tree ahead.
His eyes locked on a massive zelkova: thick enough for four men to encircle. He darted behind it, then leaped to a branch.
As the black-clad man rounded the tree, Jang Chil dropped, saber arcing down.
Shick!
The loaded crossbow fired. Jang Chil slapped at it with his palm, but it lodged there. Meanwhile, his saber descended on the man’s head. The foe raised his crossbow to block and drew his sword with his right hand. The draw-to-slash at Jang Chil’s waist was familiar.
Krunch!
Gravity plus Jang Chil’s full power shattered the crossbow, driving the saber into the man’s skull. But Jang Chil wasn’t unscathed—the sword had gouged his side.
“Kuuk!”
Blazing pain tore a scream from him; the saber slipped. Lucky the head strike landed first, or his waist would’ve split.
Thud!
The half-cleaved man toppled. Jang Chil yanked the bolt from his palm, stomped the head, and retrieved his saber.
He rifled the body for poison and hidden weapons, then fled.
Four down.
Crashing through the woods, Jang Chil pulled the shoulder bolt. “Kuh”—a short groan escaped again.
Out of the forest. Hurry—hide the family. Exposed, they’d be Jeokhyeolsan hostages.
Despite his resolve, he was lost, plunging deeper into the woods.
These bastards think I’m easy prey.
Won Seung easily found the assassin’s hideout. He knew Jeokhyeolsan inside out.
The killer lurked in the hills behind a house—door in plain view. Won Seung watched from the rear.
Per Jong Bi, Jeokhyeolsan assigned one to four supports by difficulty; special hits got dozens. Yet only one after him.
Originally two, but one got recalled that morning—branch orders. Chasing Jang Chil took fourteen; Won Seung’s contract stretched them thin.
Unaware, Won Seung’s pride smarted.
Pfuk!
A death flute’s note launched a paralyzing needle into the nape. The assassin clutched instinctively and collapsed.
Won Seung dragged him to the Bi Sword Sect disciples’ tent.
The man lay immobile, eyes rolling wildly. Won Seung pried his mouth—no suicide pill. They bit those just before a hit.
More needles in key spots; loosened the jaw.
“Supports?”
No answer.
“Tough one. Fine—killers like you are venomous.”
Won Seung poured Chwimimonghonju into the mouth.
“Krup…”
Soon, the limp killer whimpered like in a nightmare.
“Aaa! No! Spare me… ugh sob.”
Terror-stricken pleas. Cowardly? No wonder he was low-tier.
“Fine… won’t kill you. Who sent you?”
“Ahuhuhu…”
Jeokhyeolsan hid clients from assassins. But killers dug anyway—could get backstabbed.
“I’ll spare you… spill it.”
Coaxed softly, the man stammered.
“Please… Bingbu… Bingbu…”
Bingbu? Won Seung thought of Hong Il-wan instantly.
That bastard.
He’d pull this crap. Mystery solved, Won Seung felt lighter.
Seongwangbu hadn’t caught on.
But Gwang-ho Gongja saw me—identity’s just a matter of time.
Won Seung grilled him on the Huangdo branch, then paused at a Soul Oblivion Pill. Jeokhyeolsan would notice.
No choice.
Poured Sangong Poison in the mouth, fed paralyzing toxin, left him in the tent, and headed to Hwapyeong Guest House. Jang Chunsam lit up at Won Seung—he knew about the Sam-o-dan-sim-san antidote sale to Go Yeongju.
Won Seung handed over ten pills.
“That plus these ten? You’re good for a year.”
“Can’t you just detox me?”
“Nah… Chunsam-hyung, you’ve got jobs ahead. Backstab me, and I’ll have to kill you. Minimal insurance so we don’t go there. Finish up, I’ll cure you.”
You bastard… Jang Chunsam cursed inwardly but nodded.
“Just say the word. I’ll handle it.”
“Guy lying in that abandoned tent on the hill. Lock him up somewhere.”
“That’s my specialty. Anything else?”
Won Seung eyed him.
“I’ll tell you bit by bit.”
Not enough trust for big tasks yet.
Won Seung left the Jeokhyeolsan assassin to Jang Chunsam and went home.
Passing the gate, Im Cho-ye perked up from the veranda, chin on rail, leg dangling.
“Where’ve you been?”
Petulant tone.
“Quit as investigator—gotta find work. Can’t starve.”
“……”
Im Cho-ye blinked, surprised.
“Burned through my money already? Need a loan?”
She held over five hundred nyang.
“Huh? Not that broke yet. Where’re your uncles?”