Chapter 20: That's the Real Shedding of the Old Shell!
Robbing someone after assassinating them might lower oneself to the level of a common thief, but Won Seung didn't care one bit.
No matter how versed he was in the words of the sages, Won Seung—raised solely on harsh mountain training—had only a vague notion of good and evil. The fact that he still retained some human decency from his mother, Lee Family Wife's teachings in his early childhood, was a blessing.
'Gotta kill him quick.'
A low-grade target was a nuisance just by existing, so he could dispatch them without a shred of guilt.
The next day.
After poking around the county for intel on the county magistrate, Won Seung felt utterly screwed. The info from headquarters didn't match the first mission at all.
The magistrate wasn't a paragon of clean governance, but he wasn't a corrupt bastard either. Most folks in the county trusted and followed him.
'They dug a trap even in the easiest mission.'
They'd dangled the lowest-grade target, figuring kids could knock it off without much trouble. Some might even fall for the bait.
But Won Seung had no intention of following Jeokhyeolsan's orders—he'd do the exact opposite. Killing the magistrate was off the table.
Won Seung erased the low-grade mission from his mind and recalled the mid-grade one. By Jeokhyeolsan's intel alone, Lee Eon-pae was the spoiled only son of a local tyrant, the perfect picture of a two-faced scumbag.
'Please be as rotten as they say.'
The next day, Won Seung headed straight to Chungyang County, his second mission spot. It wasn't far, but food and lodging along the way burned through his one nyang of silver, leaving only a handful of iron coins.
What a poverty-stricken assassin gig.
A few days later.
Upon arriving in Chungyang County, Won Seung dug into Lee Eon-pae's reputation first. He didn't need to shop around much—the first person he asked spat curses and trembled in fear. After confirming with a few more, he steeled his resolve.
'Jackpot. This bastard deserves to die.'
Won Seung made for the Lee Family Manor, Lee Eon-pae's home. On the outskirts of Chungyang County, the estate was massively huge—even bigger than the Won Mansion where he'd grown up.
The encircling walls alone had to stretch ten li. Beyond the high walls, roofs like whalebacks clustered thickly.
Guards from the Ho Guard patrolled the walls constantly, and four gatekeepers stood watch at the fortress-like main entrance.
No need to guess how many warriors lurked inside.
Won Seung felt intimidated.
'This is nuts. Tougher than a prince's palace. "Heavily guarded" doesn't even cover it. Bandits would break against the doorstep.'
That night, Won Seung checked into an inn, scarfed an early dinner, and crashed. At dawn, he snuck near the manor and fired a crossbow bolt at the tallest building.
Shiiik—!
Thud!
The bolt, tightly bound with a note, punched through a window.
"Who the hell's there?!"
The Lee Family Manor erupted in chaos over the sudden arrow—and the note tied to it.
Lee Eon-pae. Even heaven rages at your evil deeds. On the new moon next month, I'll come for your life.
🐢
Lee Eon-pae, scowling at the note a guard brought him, demanded:
"What's this crap?"
A turtle was sketched at the bottom.
"Looks like a turtle, young master."
"That son of a bitch!"
He got threats like this a couple times a year, but being called a turtle hatchling pissed him off more than the death threat.
"Catch that bastard alive! I'll gut him myself."
As Lee Eon-pae fumed, Won Seung slipped away into the night, leaving Chungyang County behind.
The assassin training camp naturally tailed all the kids.
Jong Bi, shadowing Won Seung, was baffled.
'Skipping low- and mid-grade to hit high-grade first? Is he really Sipjeon Salsu material?'
Bi Jangno had pulled her aside: "He's a prospect for the Sipjeon Salsu. Watch him closely." When she learned his targets, she was floored.
She was a third-generation trainee who'd done field missions herself. By her standards, Won Seung's assignments were insanely tough.
Normally, his low-grade should've been high-grade.
Training was just that—training. The goal was letting kids taste blood. Targets were street thugs or sleazy merchants at worst.
But Won Seung's were the kind that made pro assassins sweat. Especially Hwa Cheon-gang, second lord of Cheongsu Gate and a top expert—even active assassin Jong Bi wouldn't dare.
This was a suicide mission.
'Something's fishy. They call him Sipjeon Salsu material... and send him to die?'
Jong Bi had good reason to suspect foul play. Kids' prices rose yearly—they were survivors of brutal training, ready for apprenticeship after a stint or two, prime for deployment.
She couldn't fathom why Bi Jangno would throw a Sipjeon Salsu prospect to the wolves.
'Isn't the kid scared at all?'
Won Seung was baffling too.
She'd shrugged off him skipping the decently viable magistrate for Lee Family Manor's Lee Eon-pae. But now he blew past that too, heading straight for Cheongsu Gate.
'Scouting targets, picking priorities, probably.'
Half a year was plenty to scout and decide.
But Won Seung acted suspiciously. In Sangyang, home to Cheongsu Gate, he bought a bundle of herbs from an apothecary, then holed up in a rundown inn on the outskirts.
Jong Bi wondered if he'd spotted her tail and was shaking her— she'd disguised as a guest a couple times, but he was definitely holed up.
'What the hell's he doing?'
After half a month, Won Seung emerged, hit a smithy. Jong Bi tailed, of course.
He handed over his sword; the smith inspected it, and they haggled. The smith paid two nyang silver and some iron coins. He'd sold his longsword for cash.
Jong Bi was stunned.
Selling his weapon?
'Hmm. Longsword his main? Makes sense, maybe...'
From the smithy, Won Seung went to a money changer. Too soon for payout? Jong Bi tilted her head as he exited.
Next: a clothing shop.
"Gasp! Th-that outfit?!"
Won Seung donned clothes pricey enough to shock his watcher. Even his new shoulder bundle was silk.
With a scholar's hat, he looked every inch the rich young heir fresh from wealth.
'Blowing a month's stipend in one go? Insane. That's gotta be over two nyang!'
He didn't stop—next, a trinket shop for a fancy jade pendant, tucked at his waist.
'That's the real shedding of the old shell.'
Jong Bi was genuinely floored. New clothes transformed him. Only now did she notice his formerly swarthy face had paled to porcelain.
Won Seung wandered Sangyang's sights like a wide-eyed young scholar seeing the world. Jong Bi trailed all day.
Sunset: he entered a grand inn called Cloud Flower Pavilion.
Soon, he sat at a second-floor railing overlooking the street. Fine liquor and dishes covered his table.
'One meal there's gotta be a nyang. Where's this cash coming from?'
Jong Bi couldn't compute. He'd blown past two nyang—sword sale or not, the spending was nuts.
Gazing at the street, Won Seung sipped his liquor and grimaced.
'Ugh. Why pay for this swill?'
A nyang a bottle. Mountain training meant no booze experience—good or bad? No clue.
'Gotta know how to drink, though.'
Trekking from Choyang County through Chungyang to Sangyang had taught him plenty.
His world ended at age six. Mansion heir life gave no glimpse of common folk. Then a decade in the mountains.
He'd absorbed worldly info and knowledge in training, but book smarts weren't street savvy. He was a babe tossed into the unknown. A rundown inn's snobby errand boy drove it home.
His grubby face and rags screamed it.
'Wanna be treated right? Need the right status.'
From emperor down to gutter beggars, status varied wildly. Born set, but as a fresh assassin, Won Seung's was blank slate. Pick one, blend in.
Naturally... Won Mansion heir it was.
So in Sangyang, he bought herbs, soaked daily in decoctions. Result: skin white and glowing like a rich kid's. Fitting the look meant cash.
Sold his sword, cashed five bills at once—early fee docked, but whatever. Mapped Sangyang corner to corner, then hit top-shelf Cloud Flower Pavilion.
Reason for the fancy inn? Past dives overflowed with losers' sob stories.
'High-end spot means high-end intel.'
Won Seung set down his cup, popped a dish. Stir-fried pork and veggies melted on his tongue.
Pocket change: three nyang silver left. Barely enough for Cloud Flower—out tomorrow. Tomorrow's problem.
For now, savor the grub and booze, no thoughts.
But... he scowled instantly.
A rowdy pack of scholars clomped up to the second floor.
"Hahaha! Drink like kings tonight!"
"Don't sweat the tab—I'll cover it all."
They buzzed with excitement, dressed and acting like noble heirs.
'Scholars, my ass... flapping their gums like that.'
Expensive jade plaques at their waists caught his eye. Compared to his lot, infuriating.
Then his gaze locked with a woman ascending with them. Prominent forehead gave her a sharp look—damn pretty, too.
She blinked at his glare; no one in Sangyang messed with this crew.
Powerhouse heirs, and among them, some of the world's best-known talents.
Won Seung shot her a what're you staring at? look and turned away.
'What the...? Who is that guy?'
She wasn't a knockout, but top-five in Sangyang. Guys drooled; no one eyed her like that.
"Junior sister, c'mon."
Perplexed, she followed. Staff led them—reservations?—to a wide veranda overlooking the garden.
Their spot and Won Seung's railing were divided by an open-top partition; raised voices carried everything.
Soon, the scholars' chatter drifted over.