Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Assassin Kim Ji-yong - [3]
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"Seong-cheol? Keep things running smoothly at the office until we get back. Do-hyeok, you've stocked up on gum and coffee ahead of time, right? Good, that should do it. Let's get moving."
The four set out discreetly and boarded a car parked far from the office.
Yi Do-hyeok took the wheel. Yi Pung, in the passenger seat, spoke up.
"We'll head straight up to Pyonganbuk-do like this. If you get sleepy while driving, I'll take over. If I get sleepy, you drive."
They planned to go all the way to the border. Crossing into Ming territory would end this business once and for all.
Yi Do-hyeok asked how they'd cross the Yalu River once they reached the border. Yi Pung replied that there were ways. Her immediate answer, without a moment's hesitation, made it clear she'd done this many times before.
The car started rolling. Heo Pung-gae and Kim Ji-yong sat in the back seat.
Kim Ji-yong glanced at Heo Pung-gae beside him. Astonishingly, even in this situation, the man seemed intent on cultivating. Heo Pung-gae had his eyes closed, sitting cross-legged.
That meant he probably wouldn't pay attention to anything here.
Kim Ji-yong cautiously turned on his cellphone.
There were dozens of unread messages. One caught his eye.
It was from his former superior. Seeing the attached photo, Kim Ji-yong instinctively checked the contents.
It was a picture of his girlfriend's house.
At the familiar location, Kim Ji-yong's ex-boss was flashing a V-sign next to his girlfriend, who looked anxious.
The meaning was obvious. Kim Ji-yong's expression hardened for a moment, but he quickly turned off the phone and composed a calm face.
He had no intention of telling the others in the car about this threat. He was afraid that someone might suggest going to rescue her, even if it meant they all died in the process.
That peerless master sitting next to him might actually say something that insane. It looked like he'd set out on this journey with genuine chivalrous intent.
To such a knight-errant, the life of that innocent girlfriend would surely be far more precious than the life of a hitman who'd killed nearly thirty people.
Of course, Kim Ji-yong didn't see it that way.
Kim Ji-yong quickly decided to pretend none of it—girlfriend or otherwise—had ever happened.
She was just dolled up with makeup and thought she was some beauty. They'd seriously talked marriage up until a year ago, but lately he'd had no such intentions and kept dating her out of inertia. Not even out of lingering affection, but simply because finding someone new was a hassle.
If she died because of him after seven years together, he'd feel a bit guilty, sure. But so what? He knew from experience after handling those twenty-nine jobs that a night of heavy drinking and sobbing would leave his conscience clean by morning.
The car kept driving. Night fell, and the black vehicle blended into the darkness. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "This bastard read it and ghosted. His girl's nabbed, and he doesn't give a shit."
"Well, what purity of heart can you expect from a guy who's iced twenty-nine people?"
"So what do we do with this bitch?"
"Well..." ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The car sped into Haseo, accelerating even more. The surroundings were open plains and countryside, perfect for flooring it.
If they kept going like this, they could put plenty of distance between themselves and any pursuers who might catch up.
That was the hope, but reality proved otherwise. The pursuers latched on far sooner than expected.
Seeing the cars in the side mirror, Yi Pung spat curses.
"Fuck, how'd they know?"
Yi Do-hyeok replied in a trembling voice.
"Maybe they stuck a GPS on it?"
"No way, this is a burner car—how'd they know it's mine..."
Yi Pung was driving now. With the rural emptiness meaning no bystanders, she slammed the accelerator.
The pursuers weren't taking it easy either. In the dim early evening—not quite dark yet—a high-speed chase unfolded.
They drove on and on. Even Heo Pung-gae, who'd been meditating the whole time, opened his eyes to watch.
On the horizon, something pitch-black was approaching. Its speed toward them was unnaturally fast.
In an instant, it reached the chase scene: a motorcycle.
Everyone in the car saw what the rider held. Yi Do-hyeok's eyes widened in horror.
"That sword... it's..."
That alone told Yi Pung who the biker was.
"Mud Soul Great Hero!"
Mud Soul Great Hero. It was the new moniker for Gangnam's Supreme Sword, once considered Seoul's second-best master.
Six years ago, his sect was driven out of Seoul, stripping him of his "Gangnam's Supreme" title. Then he suddenly started wielding a Japanese sword, earning the derogatory name.
He never used it himself. It was too blatantly insulting, and daring to call him that to his face was something even a top-tier master like Gangnam's Supreme Sword couldn't tolerate without fury. His bounty, already hundreds of billions six years ago, had now skyrocketed to astronomical heights.
Yi Pung muttered in disbelief.
"No way—a trillion-won guy shows up for this shit? Did the committee sell their houses to fund it?"
Her eyes wavered with unease. Things weren't going as planned.
This job was something the Martial Alliance couldn't openly touch. Being covert, he figured they wouldn't commit much resources.
Apparently not. He was starting to doubt if the Alliance even intended to handle it quietly.
What the hell was that trillion-won weapon?
"Why's he waving a Japanese sword around, that Korean bastard..."
It defied common sense.
Why don't gangsters charge in full plate armor swinging halberds? Why tuck a gun in their waistband instead of slashing with sashimi knives? Because they fear the cops, obviously.
The same logic applied to martial artists.
They didn't shun armor out of ignorance of its benefits, nor did they believe soft swords and judge's brushes outpowered long spears or moon blades.
Heavy armor draws eyes, and a police stop could mean capture. Better to use something passable for self-defense.
Thus, the deadliest weapons among martial artists were shortened swords for concealability.
But a katana? Not even a 40cm wakizashi—a full 1m blade. If found in a trunk, cops would draw guns on sight.
If you want to swing that, do it indoors. Outdoors? With a trillion-won bounty? Prison bait.
And now, the one who should be most cautious was gleefully doing the insane thing.
"Fuck..."
The car was at top speed. Relative speed should make pursuers look slower.
But that bike didn't. Even from the car, it was terrifyingly fast.
And the already speedy bike accelerated further.
300 km/h? More. In just ten seconds, it hit over 500 km/h.
The martial artist atop it handled that power and speed with one hand.
The other hand, not on the throttle, gripped the long Japanese sword. Even in the dark, the blade gleamed.
The distance between Gangnam's Supreme Sword and the car shrank to touching range. Now his face was visible inside. Unkempt hair, patchy beard—like a bum who skipped haircuts and shaves.
The explosive roars grew louder.
Even with windows up, the blasts rattled ears inside. Yi Do-hyeok plugged his, in pain.
The bike tailed the car's rear.
Gangnam's Supreme Sword prepared to swing.
He released the handlebar, gripping the hilt two-handed. Like ancient cavalry without stirrups, he clamped his legs to the bike.
"That mad bastard!"
The bike pulled alongside. Gangnam's Supreme Sword tensed his grip.
The car window rolled down.
Two hands emerged. Gangnam's Supreme Sword spotted the white gloves.
Disciple of Invincible BB Bullet. Obvious.
Heat flushed his stoic face. Trying to block the sword with bare hands?
Insane, but no need to scoff or doubt. The opponent was a peerless master—the only one wielding true magic in this world. No holding back.
Gangnam's Supreme Sword swung with full waist and shoulder power.
Keen-eyed martial artists would recognize it: the mounted technique used by Huashan Sect swordsmen in One Stroke Clear Wind. It added the horse's speed and weight to the swordsman's power for devastating might.
Here, it was the iron steed of the road. No surprise if it shredded the car's plating.
Against it, the hands from the window moved slowly.
Slim fingers tore through air, entwining the oncoming blade.
At collision, the maxed-out bike grazed past the car.
No thunderous boom. No blood or sparks.
Nothing happened. Time flowed peacefully, like stream water.
For a moment, no one grasped what occurred.
Yi Pung at the wheel stared blankly at the bike now far ahead, then glanced back at Heo Pung-gae.
"You okay... No, the gloves aren't even torn."
Yi Do-hyeok in the passenger seat fared worse, gasping for breath.
Seeing bare hand meet blade, his heart had nearly burst. It still pounded.
But the martial artists here ignored him. No time.
"What did you do?"
Kim Ji-yong asked. Heo Pung-gae replied curtly.
"Taijiquan Flowing Water Form."
A common technique, taught at any Taijiquan dojo. Instructors say move like flowing water—never mentioning it magically diverts force.
An explosion or counter sending Gangnam's Supreme Sword tumbling would have been less shocking.
No sound at impact. The reckless assault left even him unscathed. The clash's force truly flowed away.
Forgetting his lover's fate, Kim Ji-yong watched a realm beyond what twenty-nine kills and spirit pills could buy.
To martial artists accustomed to the unreal, it was harmony's pinnacle. Even the pursuers seemed to think so.
"What the hell are those guys?"
The trailing cars flashed signals inexplicably.
Kim Ji-yong answered.
"Expressing awe at that feat, I think. They saw what happened from afar."
"Really? I was right there and didn't catch a thing. Lucky them..."
Amid tension, one brimmed with killing intent.
Gangnam's Supreme Sword far ahead wheeled sharply, charging back.
He couldn't repeat the last stunt. It had burned his full inner power. Unlikely again.
Still, swinging from the bike was ferocious. Coming opposite, it looked even faster.
Again, Heo Pung-gae's protruding hand effortlessly diverted the terrifying blade.
Yi Pung's heart skipped, fearing a crash. Gritting teeth, she asked.
"What about that bastard? Can't you just BB-bullet him off?"
Heo Pung-gae never killed. Not even enemies.
"Wanna see his head grind on concrete?"
"Still, letting him keep this up is bad! Scratches are nothing—if a camera catches it..."
"Isn't this a burner?"
"Even so!"
Heo Pung-gae eyed Gangnam's Supreme Sword. Shaking him off looked tough.
"Then let's stop soon."
"Fight him off?"
"Yeah."
"Somewhere advantageous? Or..."
"Just out of sight."
Yi Pung obeyed.
The car halted after a bit. The hundreds-kph bike, and trailing black cars, stopped too.
The martial artists inside disembarked. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇