Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Assassin Kim Ji-yong - [2]
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The negotiations hadn't gone well. You could tell just by looking at Yi Pung's face.
After finishing his long phone call, Yi Pung grumbled as he returned.
"Those thick-headed idiots from the Martial Alliance never listen. They just won't budge."
Kim Ji-yong asked in a trembling voice.
"They're really going to come after me no matter what?"
"Yeah, well. I told them you're a close friend of ours. Hell, you're my cousin. So give him a break, I pleaded. But no dice—they want you handed over right now."
Kim Ji-yong muttered through gritted teeth.
"After all the contributions I've made to the Martial Alliance... how can they..."
"I said that too! And since there's no evidence left because of that assassin's screw-up, just let it slide this once, right? But nope. They say the evidence proves it's your fault. So now... what are we gonna do?"
"Can you hide me..."
"You can't stay here anymore. The Martial Alliance already knows you're around."
"What? Did you tell them I'm here?"
"No, but they've got watchers in the area. Absolute masters like you—what you're up to—they want to know, so they keep eyes on you full-time."
"Then what..."
"I've already taken the advance, so I can set you up with a safe house at least."
Kim Ji-yong bowed his head. After a pause, he pleaded in a voice that sounded like he was about to cry.
"Please save me."
"Save you how?"
"Help me escape."
Yi Pung furrowed his brow.
"You want me to openly defy the Martial Alliance?"
"Hasn't the great Invincible BB Bullet stuck his nose in their business plenty of times? I heard he's crashed their events outright more than once."
"Sure, but that was after gauging the people and the payout. Six hundred million, right? That was your whole fortune?"
"Yes."
That much was certain. If Kim had more money, Yi Pung would've squeezed out a billion or ten—no matter how much. But that was all Kim had.
For the Martial Alliance's top assassin, it was modest. For a young martial artist, though, it was a hefty sum. Young martial artists blew every penny on elixirs the moment they got it. Holding onto that much was impressive in itself.
"For a measly six hundred million, make enemies of the Martial Alliance? You nuts...?"
"I'll add sixty million more. Six hundred sixty. I'll give you everything."
"Handing over your escape fund and living expenses too? Still no."
"Please, it's my entire fortune. And six hundred sixty million might not be much to an absolute master like you, but it's not nothing, right?"
Yi Pung sighed.
"Look, six hundred sixty sounds profitable, but it's not. You think we'd burn bridges with the Martial Alliance forever? Nah. After messing with their ops, we'd have to save face for those committee bigshots.
If we're just mediating, pocket change—fifty mil each is fine. But outright sabotage? A hundred mil per head minimum. Go Jin-cheol won't pay since he's on the outs, but the other six? That's six hundred sixty right there. Not a dime left."
"Come on, please."
"I bluff a lot in negotiations, but not this time. There's no profit in it."
Of course, Kim Ji-yong didn't give up. His life was on the line.
"Then... as a wandering hero, can't you help?"
Yi Pung's eyes widened.
"As a wandering hero?"
"I heard about that detective the Martial Alliance was gonna bury. The great Invincible BB Bullet protected him without taking a single penny. Even pissed off the police chief who ordered the hit, but he didn't care—he helped anyway."
"Yeah, but that was Invincible BB Bullet doing it."
"I hear his disciple follows his teachings to the letter. Even mastered the Virgin Boy Skill..."
Yi Pung no longer hid his irritation.
"That detective? We got him out of the country for life in exchange for zipping it on the case forever. That's why the bigwigs let it slide."
"Do the same for me. I wanna bolt to Ming China. Never coming back. Mouth shut for good. The Martial Alliance can't even publicly condemn it—they can't admit to everyone they tried to rabbit-hole one of their own and got blocked."
Yi Pung crossed his arms and glanced at Heo Pung-gae. For him, this near-free service demand grated, but the final say was Heo Pung-gae's.
And Heo Pung-gae looked just as displeased. A flicker of anger cracked his usual blank expression.
Sure enough, he wasn't even bothering with courtesy. Not even to Yi Do-hyeok.
"You begged to live."
"Yes, please..."
"Is saving you truly righteous?"
"Huh?"
"You're an assassin. Letting one live—what happens next is obvious. Save one life, and more vanish. Wouldn't that karma come back to me?"
"If I bolt abroad, I'll lay low! Quit assassinations..."
"Really?"
"I swear! Stake my life on it!"
"No need to shout. Even desperate pleas don't convince me. I just asked to ease my mind, but it didn't work. Should I threaten to gouge your eyes if you lie?"
Despite the doubt, hope lit Kim Ji-yong's face.
"So you'll help?"
Heo Pung-gae didn't deign to answer.
Yi Pung sighed instead.
"Get ready to go. Grab any hidden cash if you've got it."
Heo Pung-gae moved to another room. Clearly sick of the guy's face, yet he'd agreed to help anyway.
Yi Do-hyeok, hanging nearby, couldn't fathom it. He asked directly.
"This again? If someone's asking a wandering hero for help, you gotta save them even if they're not pitiful?"
Heo Pung-gae stared blankly at Yi Do-hyeok before replying.
"Yes."
"Isn't that following your master's teachings too mechanically?"
"What're you on about."
"I thought Invincible BB Bullet helped the truly pitiful..."
Heo Pung-gae barely held back a sigh.
"Back when Invincible BB Bullet was active, the world was wilder, less civilized. Thugs shaking down street vendors, loan sharks megaphoning debts door-to-door."
"Not anymore?"
"Now? Call the cops, problem solved. People are smarter—they know. In this era, anyone skipping the station to beg a martial thug? Proper folk don't do that.
If it's a bar girl asking, that's the nice case. Mostly it's scumbags: embezzling sect funds, can't cover it, 'save me.' Or banging the boss's girl, caught, 'save me.'"
"But Invincible BB Bullet..."
"Helped 'em all."
"Why?"
"No gigs otherwise. Not brag-worthy, no buzz, so you never heard."
This case qualified too—as a wandering hero.
Minus Kim Ji-yong killing six times Jack the Ripper's tally, or cosmic justice in his death. Still, loyal till the sect betrayed him—unfair, right?
Saving one life. Merit Ledger: +100 achievement points.
He didn't want to. Doubting if forcing it was even good. But that's why he had to.
It's been ages since helping felt rewarding. Reject now over disgust, and he'd keep rejecting. Denying a century of training—no way.
Like it or not, keep playing wandering hero. To smother the inner doubt...
Yi Pung entered. He'd seemed unhappy with his brother's call but wouldn't second-guess a done deal.
Instead, he tried cheering his gloomy bro. Forced a grin.
"I told the guy it'd piss off the Martial Alliance, blah blah, but no biggie. They can't touch Invincible BB Bullet's disciple right now. Mess with their op? Probably just protests. Might not even need payoff dough..."
"Still, prep for a clash. Threads ready?"
"Threads? Yeah, of course. Want 'em?"
"Yes."
Yi Pung fetched the thread. Coiled, shimmering silver.
"Whoa, that's what Invincible BB Bullet used..."
"Yep."
Yi Do-hyeok knew Invincible BB Bullet mastered silkworm arts. Fanboy eyes sparkled.
"Heavenly Silkworm Thread!"
"Fishing line from auction. Cheap, tough, easy get—best pick."
Yi Pung grinned, handing it over.
Heo Pung-gae wrapped the familiar thread around his hands, fiddling.
Yi Pung asked.
"But what're you gonna do with it? Need thread at all?"
"Yes. You saw my lightning amp up."
"Yeah. So?"
"Thought how to use it. Got ideas. Need practice before whoever the Alliance sends."
Heo Pung-gae stretched thread-taut arms wide.
Lips moved.
Next instant, Yi Do-hyeok's jaw dropped. Blue lightning crackled along the thread—clear as day.
Impossible skill. Even Invincible BB Bullet couldn't. Disciple outshining master, apparently. Mechanical follower, borderline psycho—but still.
Heo Pung-gae muttered.
"Current's weak. Wet it maybe."
He kept experimenting.
Yi Do-hyeok didn't like this un-Invincible-BB-Bullet-like disciple much. But now? He'd admire.
Even Yi Pung gawked in awe as Heo Pung-gae tested away.
Thirty minutes later, they left the office post-session. Yi Pung muttered boarding the car.
"Looked badass practicing, but still—no fight prep needed, right? Alliance wants it quiet. No budget for elites."
"Prep anyway."
"Worst case, they send grunts—five hundred mil bodies, mid-tier. Relax..." ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ No one at the broadcasting station that day could say they'd "fought" Invincible BB Bullet.
To them, he was a personified storm. A gale ripping through a 20-story building. Nothing more, nothing less.
And "fighting a storm"? Nah. Just bad luck being there.
Six years back, security wasn't lax.
Broadcasters always pissed someone off. Stalkers lurked.
Idol fans mobbing? Mild. Cult fanatics storming after "exposé"? Psycho stalkers with kitchen knives? Plenty.
Guards could handle those—life-threatening, but stoppable.
Not that day's intruder.
No one escaped the massive building. No one resisted over five seconds.
Something zipped by—barely visible—toppling the guy next to you. Realizing it's a 1g plastic pellet? Resistance crumbles.
You freeze, tremble, pray your turn hurts less.
Guards, staff—even late-arriving martial artists—same deal.
Martial Alliance, horrified by "Invincible BB Bullet attacks station," urgently rallied Seoul sects to stop him.
Dozens of martial artists stormed in.
Guards long down, they dodged "corpses" strewn about, sprinting corridors.
Then—from invisible somewhere unreachable—1g plastics flew.
Martial reflexes beat athletes'. Qi-doping maxed bodies.
Dozens deflected, caught BBs—but none over a minute.
Clearly deflected, yet ricocheting off walls to undefendable spots: Achilles tendon, nape. Unknowable origin, one-way barrage. Reflexes useless.
Even Seoul's #2, Gangnam First Sword—700 mil body then.
Decades of qi and kung fu? Useless. Reflexes let him deflect, advance amid endless BBs.
But no counter.
Just glimpsing Invincible BB Bullet—his sole feat.
There, casually strolling as Gangnam First Sword charged, sword drawn.
Invincible BB Bullet ignored, focused toppling fleeing staff and celebs.
Glanced once at the lunge—then nothing.
Gloves off, chucked a 2g metal-ish BB.
Desperate charge, 700-mil master—didn't even see it.
Tired? Overhyped? Fingers can't bullet-speed, right?
Still unseen, unblocked.
Swing thought—over.
It hit. Blackout. Hours later, post-incident, eyes open: down.
Sect collapsed from fallout after. Surprisingly, no rage.
Just emptiness.
Crushing void. Powerlessness lingers. Hobbies, cash—joyless.
Regain joy? Beat the cause.
Post-that-day: training mania. All waking hours minus eats/work: drill. Ordered BB machine, slashed nonstop. Memorized machine-gun speed. Not block—slice.
Six years passed.
"Bro?"
Subordinate snapped Gangnam First Sword from meditation.
"Know Invincible BB Bullet's disciple? The one who pulped Go Jin-cheol lately."
"Yeah."
"Absolute master, they say. Might top his iffy-master self."
"Yeah."
"Wanna test him? Alliance gig, but committee push—no big payout. Decline if no."
No "why bother."
"Fetch my sword." ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇