Chapter 1094
"Not like I could go even if I wanted to."
After becoming an information broker, he no longer had the leisure to visit such places even when he had money.
That's why he had made sure Sulgwae could at least enjoy the spectacle in his stead.
From then on, So-ho worked diligently as a clerk at the Chang'an Inn, gathering information.
Of course, the intel Sulgwae brought back was included.
He memorized the chatter of merchants and martial artists, the conversations of officials in the private rooms—
then refined it all into usable intelligence to sell to the Evil Soul Squad.
"Where the hell has this kid gone?"
After finishing his work and stepping outside, So-ho furrowed his brows.
Normally, So-ho should have returned three days ago, but now it had been five days with no sign of him.
"Is he sick?"
Young street urchins like Sulgwae sometimes fell ill for no apparent reason.
"No, if he were too sick to come, he would've sent word somehow."
So-ho fell into thought.
An uneasy premonition prickled at him.
"Guess there's no choice."
Those who dealt in information all had sharp instincts.
By early afternoon, So-ho made an excuse to the inn's manager—claiming he felt unwell and needed to buy medicine—before slipping outside.
The White Snow Wandering Troupe.
The troupe's massive tent was like a fortress unto itself.
Two burly men with fierce eyes stood guard at the entrance, while troupe members patrolled the perimeter with sharp gazes.
Every possible gap where children might sneak in had been meticulously filled with stones and dirt, leaving no room even for a field mouse to slip through.
'Why the hell is security this tight?'
Even if they charged admission,
most troupes catering to children would turn a blind eye to kids peeking through gaps to watch for free.
But the White Snow Troupe was sealed tight like an impregnable fortress,
with members constantly circling the area.
'No choice, then.'
So-ho had received direct training from U Gyeong, one of the Evil Soul Squad's most outstanding members.
His skills in the Light Body Art, transformation techniques, and the Cock-Crowing and Dog-Stealing Art were already at a respectable level.
As the sun began tilting toward the western mountains—
Pat.
Holding his breath, So-ho activated the Light Body Art, leaping onto the tent before concealing himself in the bushes.
Then, suppressing his presence, he carefully observed the interior.
'There are quite a lot of people inside.'
Inside the troupe, children carried water, women mended costumes, and clowns warmed up their voices—
all moving busily along set paths.
If he carelessly wandered inside, he'd be caught in no time.
'Are troupes usually this orderly?'
Just then, a pile of props caught his eye.
Spears and swords for performances, a peeling lacquered box, and several empty bamboo baskets half a person's height stacked together.
'That'll do.'
Leaving the bushes, he deliberately rolled in the dirt to coat his clothes and face in dust.
He even dabbed a bit of water on his forehead to mimic beads of sweat.
It was a rudimentary disguise, but in the chaotic backstage of the troupe, it was enough.
So-ho picked up one of the large bamboo baskets and hoisted it onto his shoulder, letting it convincingly obscure his face and upper body.
Taking a deep breath, he fell into step with the moving crowd,
dragging his feet slightly to feign exhaustion from hauling loads all day.
'I have to look like I'm forcing myself to move.'
The essence of the Cock-Crowing and Dog-Stealing Art lay in naturalness.
No matter the disguise, it had to feel effortless—something achievable only through keen observation.
So-ho had noticed the forced movements and irritation of the young laborers here
and now replicated them perfectly.
"Hmm."
A troupe member guarding a tent entrance glanced at him but soon looked away.
A small child, drenched in sweat and dust, struggling under the weight of a large basket—
it was too common a sight to question.
"Ugh, ugh..."
Groaning softly, So-ho finally slipped into the heart of the troupe without being stopped.
Thump, thump.
His heart pounded, but outwardly, he remained calm as he set the basket down beside a pile of props in a secluded corner.
'I did it.'
Until now, he had only gathered and refined information—this was his first actual infiltration.
'Maybe I have a talent for this.'
Inwardly, he grinned with pride.
Becoming part of the scenery—
this mission had reaffirmed the subtleties of the Cock-Crowing and Dog-Stealing Art for him.
'That's—'
As he scanned the area, his eyes landed on a bowl embedded in the pile of props.
'Sulgwae.'
It was Sulgwae's bowl.
'He's here!'
If a warrior's life depended on their weapon, a beggar's life depended on their bowl.
Even if beaten until their bones broke, they would never leave it behind.
'But why?'
Young street urchins were as common as dirt across the Central Plains.
Moreover, even if some nameless beggar were to disappear, no one would bat an eye—such children held neither value nor utility.
So why would a troupe this large go out of their way to kidnap Sulgwae?
There's something more to this.
Hoisting the basket back onto his shoulder, So-ho began moving deeper into the troupe's encampment.
Have they trained in martial arts?
The members scattered about moved with unnaturally light steps, their eyes sharp and gleaming.
The only saving grace was that there were plenty of boys and girls his own age hauling supplies around—and that So-ho himself had never trained in anything beyond basic Lightfoot Technique.
Had he been a skilled martial artist? Any master with keen perception would have instantly noticed something off about him.
But as it stood, his bearing was no different from any ordinary boy, so no one paid him any mind.
Nothing unusual in sight.
He scoured the troupe's grounds thoroughly, yet found nothing out of place—and no sign of Sulgwae.
But he's definitely here.
The fact that his bowl had been discarded here meant Sulgwae had to be nearby.
Then there must be a hidden mechanism.
The lessons U Gyeong had drilled into him now proved their worth.
Realizing the troupe likely had a hidden mechanism, So-ho began searching for tents with lax security.
In a place this sprawling and labyrinthine, why bother stationing guards when a hidden mechanism could do the job?
In fact, conspicuous patrols would only draw unwanted attention.
Ssshhhk—
Before he knew it, So-ho had reached the incineration pit at the troupe's rear.
Thick, acrid smoke billowed from the smoldering remains of discarded props.
The stench of burning materials was so overpowering that hardly anyone came here.
Yet despite the dying flames, the smoke didn't rise—instead, it was being sucked sideways, as if pulled by an unseen current.
Like a phantom wind, the smoke and ash swirled unnaturally toward one section of the wall.
Stepping over the ashes, So-ho approached and pressed a hand against it.
Hollow.
The wall vibrated faintly, its interior empty.
And one spot stood out—less soot-stained, unnaturally clean.
Without thinking, he pushed.
Rrrrrumble—
The wall slid aside, revealing a hidden passage.
Inside, the space resembled a prison cell, where masked children huddled in silence.
"Sulgwae!"
So-ho called out to the child wearing a rabbit mask—the only one not sitting properly, one knee drawn up.
No one else sat like that. Only Sulgwae.
Zzziiing—
But an eerie formation surrounded the prison, blocking not just the view of the outside—
But all sound as well.
"The only formation I've learned is the Five-Elements Concealment Formation for escaping..."
No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't dismantle the prison's barrier.
Murmur, murmur...
To make matters worse, footsteps were approaching in the distance.
Not now.
If he lingered, he'd be caught—and this incident would be buried forever.
"Sulgwae... I will come back for you."
With a low whisper, So-ho slipped out of the incineration pit.
I need U Gyeong's help.
Given the scale of the hidden mechanisms and the troupe members' terrifying martial prowess—
Even if he brought the Magistrate's Office's constables, they'd just erase the evidence.
And no one would lift a finger for some kidnapped beggar child.
That left only one option.
He had to seek help from U Gyeong—the Evil Soul Squad member who was as close to a master as he had.
"I'm sorry."
U Gyeong looked at So-ho with pity after the boy used the emergency signal to summon him.
"Right now, all our unit members are devoted to tracking a formidable enemy."
Since Heavenly Mechanism Star had surfaced, Bu Eun-seol had redirected the Evil Soul Squad's intelligence network entirely toward monitoring his movements.
Every operative was stretched thin, with no time to spare.
No matter how close U Gyeong was to So-ho—
He couldn't abandon a critical mission just to rescue a single beggar child.
The only reason they could even meet like this was because Bu Eun-seol had personally vouched for the boy—
And because U Gyeong had trained him himself.
"Besides, even if we raided that troupe now, they'd have already erased all traces."
A full day had passed since So-ho discovered the mechanism—and by now, the White Snow Troupe had packed up and vanished.
The Evil Soul Squad had no resources to spare for investigating a mere traveling troupe.
And even if they did investigate, recovering any evidence would be nearly impossible.
"I understand."
So-ho bowed his head, resigned.
He'd known it was a long shot.
And truthfully, a troupe kidnapping beggar children wasn't even shocking enough to warrant attention.
For one of the most elite intelligence networks in the martial world to care about a beggar snatched by performers?
That would have been the real anomaly.
"Thank you so much for answering my call despite your busy schedule."
So-ho bowed respectfully, concealing his pained expression.
"It's nothing. Our Evil Soul Squad considers not just our members but also informants like you as family."
U Gyeong spoke with an apologetic look.
"If you had been in danger, we would have prioritized you over any mission. However..."
He couldn't bring himself to say, We can't mobilize the Evil Soul Squad's forces just to save a beggar child you're close to, and instead fell silent.
"No, it's fine."
So-ho forced a smile, understanding the unspoken words.
"But I don't think I can continue working at the Chang'an Inn anymore. I have to save my friend."
U Gyeong sighed.
He realized So-ho was giving up his position as an informant under contract with the Evil Soul Squad to go after his friend.
"In the martial world, the most precious things are chivalry and loyalty."
U Gyeong pulled a bamboo tube from his sleeve and handed it to him.
"This is an emergency signal tube—only Evil Soul Squad members are authorized to use it."
"My lord..."
"If you truly find that child, or if you're ever in grave danger, use this. Someone will come to save you."
So-ho accepted the tube with trembling hands.
This was something only full-fledged Evil Soul Squad members stationed across the Central Plains were permitted to carry.
And yet, he was giving it to him?
"Thank you."
So-ho prostrated himself in a deep bow.
If heaven wills it and I succeed in finding Sulgwae...
He could request aid from any Evil Soul Squad branch or their allied forces.
"Take care of yourself."
With those final words, U Gyeong vanished like mist.
So-hot stared down at the bamboo tube in his hand, his eyes burning with determination.
No matter what, I will find Sulgwae—and uncover the masterminds behind this.
The essence of the Tracking Art was to follow traces and extract information from them.
The troupe said they were heading to Fujian...
So-ho activated his Lightness Art, pursuing the White Snow Wandering Troupe's trail.
Fortunately, since they had only withdrawn a day prior, their tracks were still fresh enough to follow.
Nothing.
But after thoroughly scouting the moving troupe, So-ho quickly sank into despair.
It seemed they had already smuggled the kidnapped children elsewhere—none remained within the troupe.
Then...
So-ho returned to the site where the White Snow Wandering Troupe's tents had been pitched and began combing through the area meticulously.
There, he noticed something odd—the dust and dirt around the incinerator where Sulgwae had been held wasn't scattered naturally. It had been deliberately swept in a specific direction.
They dismantled the mechanism and moved elsewhere.
They must have haphazardly swept the dust to conceal the traces of the mechanism's removal.
But ironically, the very act of sweeping had betrayed their path—some of that dust would have clung to them.
No one would think to search the incinerator the troupe used.
Realizing the kidnappers had headed north, So-ho activated his Lightness Art and sprinted without pause.
If they're transporting children who don't know martial arts, they'd have no choice but to use carriages.
So-ho swept through every possible northern route, scanning for traces.
This isn't some ordinary organization.
Despite using carriages, they hadn't taken main roads. In several places, he spotted signs of wheel tracks being deliberately erased.
They even had a rear unit assigned to cover their tracks.
But they couldn't have erased everything.
So-ho focused on narrow side paths and forest trails barely wide enough for a carriage.
And there—wheel marks.
A cargo carriage carrying dozens of children would naturally be heavy.
After a long search, he found hoofprints pressed unusually deep into the dirt.
Following them, he discovered grass at the path's edge recently trampled or brushed aside, and tree branches broken at carriage height.
If they're transporting dozens of non-martial children long-distance, they'd have to rest and replenish water.
As he moved north, So-ho searched for secluded springs or valleys where they might have stopped.
"...Damn."
Then, in a quiet valley's rocky crevice, he found a ragged boy gasping for breath as if on the verge of sleep—or death.
His lips were pale, his breathing labored, his condition dire.
Likely abandoned when the kidnappers thought he wouldn't survive.
"Are you okay?"
At So-ho's voice, the boy struggled to open his eyes.
Too weak to speak, he only blinked slowly.
"Were you kidnapped by the White Snow Wandering Troupe too? Right?"
So-ho's voice was desperate.
"I'm looking for a friend who was taken. Do you know where they went?"
The boy blinked again, then weakly lifted a finger—pointing west.
"That... way."
The moment the words left him, he collapsed against the rocks like a puppet with cut strings.
So-ho scrambled for emergency medicine from his pouch, desperate to save him.
But the boy only gasped harder—then feebly pressed a hand to his stomach.
"Stomach?"
When So-ho carefully lifted the boy's clothing, he saw a distinct palm print—and the area beneath it was sunken inward.
He must have resisted them and taken a palm strike to the gut, rupturing his organs in the process.
"It's okay."
The injured boy weakly parted his pale lips and spoke.
"I always knew it'd end like this."
No one born a street urchin lives out their natural lifespan.
They die from beatings, starvation, sickness, or falling from trees.
From the start, they never even hope to live long, so when death comes, there are no regrets.
If they can just eat their fill and sleep soundly for a day, that alone is paradise.
Days spent starving after a beating? That's just hell.
Thud.
Finally, the boy's hand dropped limply to the ground.
So-ho bowed his head and silently prayed for the dead boy's peace.
Right now, when he needed to rescue Sulgwae as quickly as possible, this was the only thing he could do.
Tak.
He unleashed his Lightness Art at full strength once more and sprinted westward.
This time, he spotted the long tracks of carriage wheels.
After running a while longer, he finally saw a group of wagons resting in a wide clearing.
'Martial artists.'
The coachmen driving the wagons were ordinary civilians, but the guards escorting them were clearly martial artists trained in martial arts.
If he approached carelessly, he'd be caught immediately.
"...That might work."
Just then, the guards escorting the wagons began discussing something in hushed tones before standing up.
"Since we're in their territory now, we should be careful."
After deliberating for a while, the guards left the coachmen and wagons behind, activating their Light Body Technique to move elsewhere.
'This is my chance.'
Seizing the fleeting opportunity, So-ho, who had been hiding—
Pak!
—grabbed a large rock, crept forward, and struck the coachman's head before smashing open the tightly locked wagon door.
Inside, children lay scattered like discarded cargo.
And among them, Sulgwae was curled up in a corner.
"Sulgwae!"
So-ho called out, but Sulgwae could only blink weakly in response.
Deprived of even a sip of water and locked in the wagon, he seemed completely exhausted.
"We need to get out of here first."
He didn't have the strength to save all the children.
And there was no telling when the masters would return.
So-ho scooped Sulgwae up and immediately activated his Lightness Art, racing back the way he had come.
'No, wait.'
But then he realized—
If he fled the same way he came?
The masters would quickly find his trail and pursue him at full speed.
Whoosh—
Just then, a faint sound, like the Sound of Breaking Air, echoed from somewhere.
It was an extremely faint noise, but So-ho could sense it.
'There's no other way.'
He hoisted Sulgwae onto his back.
"Just hold on a little longer."
Then, instead of retreating, he dashed deeper into the dense forest.
But with Sulgwae weighing him down, the crushed grass and broken branches left a clear trail behind them.
'This might actually buy us time.'
Since he couldn't use a Supernatural Lightness Skill anyway, traces would inevitably remain.
Deliberately, he put more force into his steps, making the trail even more obvious.
"Find them!"
How long had he been running?
A furious roar shook the mountains.
The martial artists must have returned and discovered the wrecked wagon.
'At this rate, they'll catch up in no time.'
His mind hazy, So-ho ran like a madman without thinking.
How far had he gone? A sheer cliff came into view—there was nowhere left to climb.
Whoosh.
Meanwhile, sharp Sounds of Breaking Air signaled the arrival of dark figures closing in.
They had followed the unmistakable trail So-ho left behind.
'At least my plan worked enough to get us this far.'
Truthfully, given their skill, they could have caught up in an instant.
But because So-ho had deliberately left such obvious traces while carrying Sulgwae—
The pursuers had hesitated, suspecting a trap, and cautiously followed the trail instead.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
With the relentless Sound of Breaking Air drawing nearer, the distance between them shrank to a little over a hundred zhang.
So-ho, sprinting through the thick forest, spotted the cliff ahead and wore a look of utter despair.
There was no escape left.
'Huh?'
But then, at the edge of the cliff, he saw a young man crouched in thought.
His skin was strikingly pale, his features refined—yet he was hunched over, staring at the ground as if deep in contemplation.
His face was smeared with dirt, his clothes caked with grime, as if he'd been wandering the mountains for days.
'He hasn't trained in martial arts.'
Noticing the man carried no weapons and emitted no True Qi shockwaves, So-ho shouted desperately:
"Get out of here! Vicious men are coming this way!"
But the young man didn't react—instead, he remained crouched, arms crossed, staring at the ground.
Namgung Un.
Once called the family's troublemaker—or worse, the brat—but now acknowledged as the Young Clan Head, next in line to lead the Namgung Family.
And here he was, dressed like a beggar, squatting in a Deep Mountain Secluded Valley.