Chapter 71. I Am the Cheondaemun... Eighteenth Sect Leader!
Hyeol Hwa sank deep into thought, her brow furrowed.
Won Seung didn't want to interrupt, so he silently admired the rain with her.
Creak.
The side door in the wall swung open, revealing Jong Bi.
She looked unscathed.
'She made it through safely. Good job, Jong Bi.'
But Jong Bi's gaze flicked toward the tree where owls often perched.
An owl in this downpour?
From where Won Seung sat, the tree was out of sight.
-Someone slipped into the tree by the stream.
Hyeol Hwa, who had been staring straight ahead in silence, suddenly sent a transmission.
Gasp! She sensed someone hiding in a tree amid this torrent?
Suddenly, Won Seung saw Hyeol Hwa as some kind of monster.
Does she have at least one jia of internal energy? She doesn't look that strong...
-They're gone. They just checked the position and left.
"Ilgwon Pasan?"
"No. The energy was different."
"Hmm. Then did you know back then that Ilgwon Pasan was hiding in the branches watching us?"
Previously, during their conversation, Jong Bi had mentioned spotting Ilgwon Pasan lurking in the tree branches on her way out to Gwancheonbang.
Hyeol Hwa hadn't said a word at the time.
"I knew someone was there. But I couldn't tell who."
"Still, no one with good intentions would spy like that."
Won Seung shot her a look that said, 'You should've warned us!' but Hyeol Hwa didn't even turn her head.
Instead, she said,
"The one who just came is an assassin."
She can even tell that? They taught us ways to detect energy at the assassin training camp too. But you need at least one jia of internal energy to use it properly.
"How the hell do you know that stuff?"
Hyeol Hwa clamped her mouth shut.
In the meantime, Jong Bi slipped under the eaves. Even with her rain cape, she was soaked through. Her eyes were shadowed black from the tension. Yet, spotting Hyeol Hwa on the bamboo chair she'd made herself, she grinned silently in delight.
"Change out of those wet clothes first."
Jong Bi dashed off, changed, and returned, plopping down on her own chair between Hyeol Hwa and Won Seung.
Right next to Hyeol Hwa.
The three sat side by side, watching the rain fall in the garden.
The pouring rain had a way of lightening the heart.
Lost in their thoughts as they gazed at it...
Someone pounded on the Baekhwa Pavilion door. Bam! Bam!
Won Seung gave Jong Bi a look, and she reluctantly got up.
"Who the hell knocks at this hour?"
A creak followed her grumbling, then a shocked voice.
"Gasp! Master Woo is dead!"
"What?"
Won Seung bolted over.
Ogu lay abandoned in front of Baekhwa Pavilion like a beast.
On his side, his face deathly pale. Blood pooled on the ground amid the downpour.
"Stabbed with a sword."
Jong Bi muttered blankly, staring at Won Seung.
"What are you doing? Bring him inside."
Won Seung smacked Jong Bi's back and went to Ogu's head. Together, they carried him into Baekhwa Pavilion and laid him down.
Ogu's body was ice-cold and drenched. Won Seung felt his neck. A faint, thread-like pulse.
"He's still alive. But barely! Blood! He's lost too much blood."
Won Seung rushed inside, grabbing Boheoldan pills, Sokgeondan pills, and golden wound salve.
Prying open Ogu's mouth revealed a half-melted pill. Won Seung sniffed it—some kind of emergency yanghwan pill.
That was why he'd survived this long despite the blood loss.
Won Seung fed him the Boheoldan and Sokgeondan, then peeled off his upper clothes.
"Ugh!"
Two abdominal wounds: one stabbed from behind with a pointed blade, the other twisted after thrusting from the front.
And internal injuries too.
"The wounds are deep. Can you save him?"
Jong Bi's voice was grim as she eyed them. Even with immediate care, it was touch-and-go... and time had passed. It looked hopeless.
Won Seung slathered on the golden salve and wrapped Ogu up.
"We have to."
Won Seung's face was icily cold.
"Hunt down the Uyangjeong bastards. Find out what the hell happened."
They'd taken him out for dinner and left him like this?
Jong Bi's eyes flashed red-hot as she nodded and vanished into the inner quarters.
Won Seung flung Pibungui over Ogu and dashed into the rain.
He raced down the street and vanished in an instant. Incredibly fast lightness skill.
Hyeol Hwa, who had watched the two silently from the side, frowned at Won Seung's movement technique.
It looks familiar. The thought hit her, and she blurted it out in shock.
"Jeokhyeolsan!"
There were so many similar lightness skills, it could be a mistake. Still, it strongly felt like Jeokhyeolsan.
Then a deep voice came from behind.
"Impressive lightness skill."
She didn't need to turn—Yong Jo-un.
With light footsteps, he approached and stood beside her. A clear energy seemed to emanate from him.
"I thought he might have learned martial arts. Looks like I was right. An assassin's arts."
"……."
"Jeokhyeolsan, right? The assassin group that rivals Haeyeonmun..."
"……."
"Strange. Those guys... they don't seem like the type to do assassin work."
Hyeol Hwa bristled at Yong Jo-un's words.
Assassin work?
So I'm the bitch who lives by killing?
Oh, right. I did try to kill you.
She couldn't argue the plain fact. Fury boiled up.
Hyeol Hwa whipped around and stormed into the inner quarters. Yong Jo-un stared down the path Won Seung had taken, his eyes deep and chilling.
* * *
Bam! Bam!
The main gate of Gong Family Residence was shut tight.
In his haste, Won Seung vaulted the wall into the back yard.
Through a lit window, Hwang U-yun looked up from his book.
Their eyes met, and Won Seung approached.
"Where's the treatment room?"
"Gasp! What happened...?"
Overwhelmed by Won Seung's icy aura, Hwang U-yun unwittingly glanced at the opposite wing.
"Hurry and fetch Gong I-gwan."
Won Seung entered the opposite wing; a door was right there.
Pushing it open revealed a treatment table waist-high in the center, walls lined with sharp scalpels, needles, even saws.
Gong I-gwan's treatment room. That was why he'd brought Ogu here—he figured a doctor like Gong I-gwan would have one.
Ogu's injuries were too much for Won Seung alone. Two wounds to stitch simultaneously.
He laid Ogu on the table and stripped him. Countless minor cuts, shoulder dislocated and swollen black. The real killer was the abdominal stab—aimed straight for the spleen.
Closer inspection showed luck: the stab overlapped the spot where Ogu had once taken a dagger from a jailer. It had healed, but the muscle grain was off, shifting his spleen slightly higher.
It had barely missed, but the blood loss left his life hanging by a thread.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Gong I-gwan burst in, bellowing.
Burglarizing his treatment room at midnight... he had reason to be furious.
"How dare you invade your sect elder's treatment room!"
"Shut up!"
Won Seung roared, tossing something from his bosom at Gong I-gwan with a stern shout.
"I am the disciple of Cheondaemun's seventeenth sect leader An Yeon-haeng—and the eighteenth sect leader! Disciples Gong I-gwan and Hwang U-yun, heed my command!"
* * *
Uyangjeong was at the end of the painting district—not far.
A pavilion marked the entrance; that was Uyangjeong.
Behind it lay the gang's lair.
Jong Bi slipped over the wall, then paused.
The rain had stopped. A fragrant scent rode the damp air.
Heading to the courtyard, she spotted an altar in the small hall's main room.
What? Another funeral here?
The spirit tablet read Hama-cho. Thugs had pitched tents in the yard for guests.
What the hell happened?
The guy they took to dinner was dead, and Ogu came back half-dead... mutual destruction? No, they wouldn't have let Ogu go then.
What went down?
At the chief mourner's seat by the altar sat the burly thug from dinner, barking nonstop.
"You lazy shits, move faster! Mourners come at dawn!"
The thugs scurried at his scowl.
Jong Bi used the chaos to circle behind the hall.
Hiding by the altar, close enough to touch, but the burly one's skills couldn't detect her stealth.
Then another burly thug came from the gate—the other from dinner. This one looked even dumber.
The dumb-looking one said to the seated one,
"Ui-il, let's talk."
Ui-il shook his head.
"Yang-il, I know your game. But there's order to things. This is Uyangjeong. I'm first."
"No order when you're heading to the afterlife."
Yang-il grinned sinisterly and yelled at the yard thugs.
"All of you, out!"
They scattered.
Ui-il scowled fiercely.
"Finish the boss's funeral first, then talk."
"Better to end it quick. Dragging it out changes minds."
Yang-il plopped down one seat over, glancing at Hama-cho's tablet.
"I'm not that rude. No blood before the boss's spirit."
"Better safe. Who saw the boss going like that?"
"True... He was thrilled to join the Ten-Man Council, ended up joining the underworld instead."
Yang-il chuckled dryly.
"So watch yourself. I heard something..."
Leaning in as if for secrets, Yang-il's dangling right hand gripped a dagger.
Whoosh!
Yang-il stabbed without hesitation at Ui-il's side. But Ui-il was ready, his own dagger in hand. He grabbed Yang-il's arm with his left, thrusting at the throat with his right.
Yang-il shot out his left to seize Ui-il's right wrist.
Locked in a dagger struggle, straining.
"Yang-il, you're no good. Who'd follow a boss who can't keep his word?"
"Heh. Quit worrying and join the boss."
Their faces flushed beet-red with effort.
Then.
Shick! Shick!
Something flew in, embedding in their napes one after another.
Thud! Thud!
Their eyes bulged like marbles; bodies froze.
Moments later, Jong Bi emerged from behind the altar.
"What a pair of street punks. All that brotherly talk, then straight to stabbing?"
She looked down pityingly and smacked Ui-il's jaw.
Blood spurted; numbness around his mouth faded.
"Ugh... you little shit?"
Ui-il recognized her.
The Baekhwa Pavilion servant from dinner, holding the ladle.