To End the Atrocity
The guest room offered a full view of Dongting Lake. On the table lay the old dossier Ak Mookyeol had handed over, spread open beneath the faint flicker of a lamp. Namgung Cheon followed the red lines drawn across the map with his eyes — the positions of the hidden reefs, the flow of the currents, even a concealed approach route. Everything was stacking itself neatly inside his head.
In the corner across from him, Mujin was slowly polishing his sword. Each pass of the soft cloth along the blade sent a cold gleam of silver flashing out. Normally he would have been trading jokes over a cup of wine, but tonight his face had gone beyond serious into something grim. Then, with a sharp metallic scrape, he slid the sword back into its sheath, breaking the silence.
"Young Master."
Mujin spoke up abruptly.
"Go ahead."
"Will this truly be all right?"
Mujin's voice was heavier than usual. "Just the two of us — are we enough?"
It was no idle question. Their enemy was the Ghost Mask Pact, an organization whose infamy dwarfed anything like the Black Tiger Squad he had wiped away so casually. Worse still, their stronghold sat on an island isolated in the middle of the lake. Once inside, there would be no walking out until every last enemy lay cut down.
To Mujin's question, Namgung Cheon answered flatly, without lifting his eyes from the map.
"Going by the information, more than enough."
He pressed a finger to a spot on the map. "This is their only approach. From the outside it looks like sheer cliff, but if you time your entry to the moment the current stops, there's a gap where a boat can put in. And…" He went on to lay out everything he had heard from Ak Mookyeol — the scale of the Ghost Mask Pact, its internal structure, all of it. His explanation was meticulous and left no gaps.
"If all goes as planned, eliminating them will hardly be difficult. Not when even their Transcendent Realm fighters number just one Pact Master each."
At Namgung Cheon's confident words, some of the tension left Mujin's face. He nodded slowly, convinced. "Hmm. If you say so, Young Master, I can believe it. You're not the sort of man to move on a whim, after all."
Mujin rested his chin on his hand and studied Namgung Cheon for a while. Fine — he could see it working. There were odds in their favor. And yet one question still refused to settle.
"But still…" Mujin narrowed his eyes. "Why do this at all? It's strange enough for a righteous sect's scion — a Namgung scion, no less — to be hearing me out on this. But doing it for the children's sake? That doesn't seem like you."
Mujin knew better. Namgung Cheon was not a man who moved on ideology or sympathy alone. The Gold Pavilion he worked with was, strictly speaking, an underworld outfit, and Ak Mookyeol, whom he'd just met with, was a squad commander of the Four Black Alliance itself. Profit over chivalry, reason over sentiment — wasn't that Namgung Cheon to the bone?
"Hmm."
Namgung Cheon folded the map and tucked it into his robe before answering in a low voice.
"I suspect they hold a secret of the Four Black Alliance. A very lethal one at that." His voice was calm. "I find it hard to believe there isn't something they're desperate to bury."
And if he could seize that buried secret, it would one day become the most powerful card in his hand, when the time came for him to draw a far larger picture.
"Thorough as ever, Young Master."
Mujin nodded as if satisfied. A brief silence followed. Wind blowing in from beyond the window stirred Namgung Cheon's hair.
"And…" Namgung Cheon added quietly. Mujin's gaze turned back to him. "Saving the children is something that simply ought to be done."
A matter-of-fact remark, nothing more. Mujin stared blankly at the man's profile for a long moment. It was a cold-looking face, washed in pale moonlight — yet the eyes somehow seemed warm.
He's changed.
He was no longer the man from their first meeting, brimming over with that piercing, murderous aura. He was changing — little by little, but unmistakably. Mujin let out a short laugh.
"You've changed, Young Master."
Darkness black as ink had settled over Dongting Lake. A small ferry slid soundlessly through the thick water mist, where even a hand's breadth ahead was lost to view. Mujin, at the oars, stared into the fog with a hardened face. Beneath the lake's raw fishy scent, something foul had crept in — a smell he knew all too well.
"…I smell blood."
Namgung Cheon gave a slight nod and checked the map Ak Mookyeol had given him. The route he had traced in his mind matched the terrain before him exactly. Soon, beyond the pale fog, a black cliff emerged from the gloom — and beneath it, a cave mouth bored clean through the rock.
"Get ready."
At Namgung Cheon's brief command, Mujin let go of the oars and closed his hand around his sword hilt. "Ready? There's nothing to get ready. We simply cut them all down."
The boat slipped through the narrow cave entrance beneath the cliff. Inside, a landing had been carved out by hand. By the flickering torchlight of the dock stood five guards. Namgung Cheon's eyes swept over them in turn. All First-rate. Five first-rate experts posted as mere sentries at a single dock — it spoke to the Pact's reserves, and at the same time proved just how much they wanted hidden here.
Then one of the guards, sensing a presence, slowly began to turn his head.
Tak.
With a light step, Namgung Cheon's new form tore through empty air.
Shwaaek!
A black trajectory, darker than the darkness itself, drew across the night.
Seogeok.
The three guards in the lead collapsed at once, clutching their own throats. Too clean a cut for even a scream to escape. The remaining two scrambled for the swords at their waists, but it was too late.
Seogeok—
Mujin, leaping in right behind, sent his blade arcing through their necks. In an instant the entrance was cleared. Five first-rate experts subdued without landing a single proper blow. Namgung Cheon kicked the fallen bodies and shoved them down into the water with a splash, then walked deeper in without so much as a thought to wiping the blood from Mukhon. Mujin followed silently behind.
The farther in they went, the more labyrinthine the cave became. Man-made structures appeared here and there, and the clammy air pricked at their skin. Thud. Thud. Only the sound of the two men's footsteps echoed through the silent cavern.
Then Mujin's steps stopped dead. His gaze had locked onto something lying abandoned in the shadows at a corner of the passage.
"…"
It was a corpse. A small body — but mangled beyond all recognition. And not just one. There had to be at least ten.
Mujin's fists clenched until they went white. Namgung Cheon, by contrast, gave the bodies only a dispassionate glance — yet his eyes sank colder still.
"Young Master, we must hurry."
Mujin's voice trembled.
"Keep up."
Namgung Cheon picked up the pace, his feet skimming the ground so fast they seemed never to touch it. The two men vanished once more into the darkness — their footsteps faster now than before.
A suffocating stillness filled the vast cavern. Fifteen men in black robes ringed the stone table at its center, all eyes fixed on the old man at the head seat. At length, his lips parted slowly.
"Tomorrow at the hour of the Rat. Do not fail."
At his words, the scar-covered man standing beside him spoke in a low voice. "But Vice Pact Master, the cargo's condition is poor. If something goes wrong during the transfer—"
"If something goes wrong, you'll pay for it with your life."
The Vice Pact Master cut him off with a cold rebuke. "The Pact Master himself will be overseeing this. He will tolerate no mistakes."
A savage warning. The man swallowed dryly and bowed his head.
Then it happened. Thud. Thud. A strange sound of footsteps came from beyond the passage, out of the darkness. Unhurried, utterly regular, and completely unafraid.
The Vice Pact Master slowly raised his head and glared at the entrance. No one but those he personally authorized could use that passage. And every one of those authorized men was already here. Which meant—
"…So the rats have crawled in."
Soon two figures emerged through the darkness. Namgung Cheon and Mujin. As Namgung Cheon stepped into the cavern, he swiftly took the measure of their aura. Two at Peak Realm, thirteen First-rate. The white-haired old man at the head and the scarred man at his side were Peak; the rest were all first-rate experts. This was the Ghost Mask Pact's core strength, gathered in full.
Chaechachang! Tadadak!
At his appearance, every enemy in the room drew weapons and moved at once. In the blink of an eye they had surrounded Namgung Cheon and Mujin in a semicircle — a flawless formation permitting no opening. In the same breath, an overwhelming tide of killing intent crashed down on the two men.
But Namgung Cheon, as if none of it registered, calmly drew the map from his robe. He gave it a single glance, crumpled it without ceremony, and tucked it away. "This is where the map ends." His voice was flat. "Which means we no longer have any need to hide."
Uung—
Mukhon in his hand let out a low hum. The black blade drank in even the torchlight, exuding a ferocious menace.
The Vice Pact Master twitched a single finger. A signal.
Pat!
Three men surged forward at once — left, right, and dead ahead. Blades flew in from three directions, each striking precisely for Namgung Cheon's vitals, their sword qi no small threat. But to Namgung Cheon's eyes, every one of those movements looked slow.
Tak.
His new form blurred. His body threaded between the incoming strikes.
Shwaek—!
Mukhon carved a black stroke through the air.
Seogeok.
The heads of the two men in front rose into empty space together. The last one, eyes bulging, raised his sword for another strike — but this time Mujin stepped in. "Leaving me out of it and looking away, are you?" He drew and lunged, and from his blade an ash-grey sword astral burst out like an explosion.
Kwaaang!
Mujin's strike shattered his opponent's sword and carved deep into his chest. The vanguard collapsed in an instant — and only then did the Vice Pact Master's eyes waver. These men were monsters. Instinct told him plainly that if things went on like this, there was no winning. They needed a Transcendent Realm expert. They needed the Pact Master.
He shot a glance at the man stationed farthest back. Go. Report. A silent order: inform the Pact Master that intruders had come. One subordinate whirled immediately and sprinted at full speed toward the depths of the cave — his lightness arts were the finest among them; surely he would get the warning through.
But of course, Namgung Cheon had no intention of letting him go.
"Where do you think you're going."
His eyes gleamed cold. Ignoring the encirclement of enemies trying to bar his path, he stamped his foot.
Kung!
His form shot forward like an arrow. A speed as though space itself had been folded — the Namgung Cheon who had stood at the entrance was, in the blink of an eye, behind the fleeing man's back.
Seogeok.
Mukhon brushed past his neck. Still mid-stride, the headless body staggered a few more steps before crashing to the ground.
Derururung.
The severed head rolled across the floor and came to a stop at the Vice Pact Master's feet. Namgung Cheon turned his gaze dispassionately to the branching passages that opened out in every direction of the cavern — a layout where one could not tell which way was true, nor what lay at the end of each. But the man he had just beheaded had sprinted for this passage without a moment's hesitation. Which meant—
"Off to inform your Pact Master, were you?"
A chill smile touched his lips. "And this way leads to the Ghost Mask Hall, where your master waits."
"…!"
Shock flooded the Vice Pact Master's face, then erupted into a roar. "Stop him! Kill him — whatever it takes!"
At his bellow, the men in black surged forward all at once. Poison-coated hidden weapons rained down; sword strikes hammered at blind angles. Attacks that threw their very lives away. But Namgung Cheon parried them all as he cut his way through.
Changcheon Mansangryu.
His sword flowed like clouds one moment, slipping the enemies' attacks aside, and fell like lightning the next, punching through their hearts.
Seogeok. Puk.
Corpses piled up slowly before him. The stench of blood hung thick, and the splattered gore stained the floor red.
Heup!
Mujin, too, swung his sword without pause. Jeokmyeol — Silent Extinction. Wherever his blade touched, a head vanished. His fury at the small corpses he had seen — all of it carried on the edge of his sword, dancing more viciously than ever.
Before long, only the Vice Pact Master and the man at his side remained standing. The Vice Pact Master gripped his sword with trembling hands. Thirteen bodies lined the floor. An atrocity committed in less than half the time it takes an incense stick to burn.
"Wh-what in the world are you—"
The Vice Pact Master muttered, stumbling backward. Fear. The emotion a man who had lived his whole life as a murderer was feeling for the very first time.
Namgung Cheon tilted Mukhon toward the floor.
Hududuk.
The blood clinging to the blade dripped down like rain.
"As if it matters."
His form vanished. And then—
"You're dying either way."
The voice came from behind the Vice Pact Master.
"!"
The subordinate at his side raised his sword to block — but Mukhon's sword astral sheared through blade and body alike, cleaving both in half. And carrying that momentum through, it swept for the Vice Pact Master's neck.
Seogeok.
His head went flying through the air.
Silence. The cavern, moments ago a chaos of carnage, fell utterly still. All that remained was the blood soaking the floor, the bodies sprawled across it — and Namgung Cheon and Mujin.
"Whew…"
Mujin approached, breathing hard, his clothes drenched through with blood from hem to collar. Namgung Cheon's eyes turned to the passage the man in black had fled toward. No more need for the map — I already know the way. Their goal, after all, had only ever been one thing: the red dot marked at the very end of the map, in the deepest heart of the island.
The Ghost Mask Hall.
And the Pact Master of the Ghost Mask Pact waiting within it.
"Let's go."
Gripping Mukhon, Namgung Cheon strode toward the passage leading into the darkness.
"To end this atrocity."