Chapter 158
Chapter 158
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 158
Chapter Title: Yangyang
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Dang Mujin's group headed toward the Jin Family Manor on the outskirts of Yangyang.
"What if we run into those Supreme Medical Sword Sect disciples?"
"Who knows... I doubt we'll cross paths."
In Dang Mujin's view, the odds of Supreme Medical Sword Sect disciples being stationed around the Jin Family Manor were low.
The Supreme Medical Sword Sect harbored deep grudges against Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong.
But they weren't a Black Faction sect, so allying with the notoriously infamous Killer Veil—even temporarily—was no easy feat.
That brief alliance had already been an anomaly.
Moreover, the last sight they'd witnessed was Dang Mujin's group fleeing, with Killer Veil assassins charging out in pursuit.
They likely never imagined Dang Mujin's group would turn the tables, eliminate the assassins, and return.
As Dang Mujin predicted, no Supreme Medical Sword Sect disciples lurked around the Jin Family Manor.
After scanning the surroundings once more, the three kicked off the ground, leaped high, and landed atop the manor's walls.
The grounds were spacious, but the interior felt deserted. Aside from minor structures like a small shed or outhouse, there were only three major buildings. Few signs of life stirred within.
Of course, it would be stranger if the place buzzed with assassins.
Hong Geolgae spoke up.
"Which building do we hit first?"
"No need to worry about that."
One assassin who spotted Dang Mujin's group bit down on a small wooden whistle.
A shrill *peeek* pierced their eardrums, and doors to the sealed buildings swung open as over a dozen assassins emerged.
Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong gauged the assassins' skills. With the elite ones either dead or fled, none posed a real threat.
As Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong gripped their weapons, Dang Mujin held them back.
"I'll handle this. Just block any runners."
"You sure?"
"More than sure. No need to hold back here."
Only two types occupied this place.
Allies for certain. And men soon to die. No reason to restrain his poison arts.
Hong Geolgae held position atop the wall, while Namgung Myeong leaped again to perch on the tallest building's roof. Dang Mujin dropped from the wall and advanced toward the assassins.
The assassins couldn't hear the trio's exchange but grasped that Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae wouldn't join the fray immediately.
Dang Mujin sheathed his sword. A faint *clink* of metal.
The assassins' eyes darted wildly, hunting for an opening.
Dang Mujin muttered.
"Give it your all."
The assassins bent their knees slightly, inching about hesitantly.
At a glance, they seemed frozen in fear, but they were spreading out—to keep Dang Mujin from tracking their movements.
The instant Dang Mujin reached into his robe, two assassins lunged, swords slashing.
Dang Mujin deployed his Cloud Drift Step, sliding sideways to evade. Then daggers flew to disrupt him. He twisted away from those aimed at vitals, but a couple grazed his skin. The stinging thrill felt oddly enjoyable.
"Haha!"
By now, six slender needles gleamed in Dang Mujin's hand.
He swung his arm, and the needles sliced through the chill night air.
The assassins had never faced needles as projectiles before, but their instincts let them dodge the toss.
Like sparrows scattering in autumn, they leaped every which way. All six needles whistled through empty space.
Yet some felt sharp pricks before landing—nape, back, rearward spots.
The needle strikes revealed much.
They'd clearly dodged, but the needles curved midair and struck anew. A feat beyond their mimicry.
At least the poison wasn't lethal.
The stiffness at impact points suggested a paralyzing toxin.
Most charged bravely again, but one veered toward the wall instead of joining.
Hong Geolgae swooped in, smashing the fugitive's skull with his staff. *Crack!*
The assassin staggered, then toppled headfirst from the wall, neck snapping.
The unexpected first casualty drew a tsk from Dang Mujin.
"You're all dead anyway. Come at me like you mean to take me down with you."
The assassins glared silently before charging once more.
They were killers who'd slain from a handful to dozens—some for missions, others for sport.
But this differed at its core.
No orders to kill Dang Mujin. No personal hatred.
Yet they swung swords and hurled darts with full force. No other path remained.
No other reason.
*
Moments later, Dang Mujin murmured.
"Fourteen."
Fourteen assassins still breathed. Only one lay dead—the one Hong Geolgae had brained.
None of the living bore fatal poisons, grievous wounds, or unconsciousness.
Their breaths came slow but steady, senses dulled yet intact. Mere paralysis pinned them.
Dang Mujin grabbed legs and dragged them one by one into the largest hall.
Hong Geolgae approached.
"Need a hand?"
"Nah. I got it."
Dang Mujin sported minor scratches, his clothes torn here and there.
Panting roughly from the hustle, sweat beaded on his jaw.
Yet his face beamed—like a child scheming mischief with friends.
After diligent trips, he herded every assassin inside, lined neatly, staring at the ceiling.
Dang Mujin asked.
"Any of you never been on a kill mission?"
Paralysis numbed tongues and mouths. No replies. But one assassin's eyes rolled desperately—he had something to say.
Dang Mujin knelt by him.
"What is it? You? Never been on a mission?"
The assassin strained to blink.
"So that's it."
Dang Mujin drew his waist sword and severed the man's throat.
Blood sprayed wildly, splattering other assassins' skin and clothes.
"No mission experience. Anyone else?"
No reactions this time. Dang Mujin nodded slowly.
"Then you're not innocent."
The words hung heavy with meaning.
Some assassins twitched feebly but couldn't rise.
Dang Mujin exited, sealing the doors tight and barring them last.
He fetched a small ember from the hearth.
Namgung Myeong paled at the sight.
"No way?"
"Yeah."
The tiny flame leaped to the grand hall's pillar.
Drizzle fell steady, but feeble drops couldn't quench it.
Like ivy climbing, the fire scaled the pillar, then spread roof-wide like thatch. It crept down again, drizzle-like from above.
Namgung Myeong's chest tightened.
He'd killed before—sword-bearing fate, warrior-born destiny.
Always one way: swift, clean strikes. Never like this.
"I get your feelings, but this method..."
"Too simple, right?"
"No, not that."
"Then what's the issue?"
"Nothing."
Dang Mujin fetched a small stool, sat comfortably, and watched the blaze.
*Crackle, crackle.* Sparks popped. Faint groans or cries seeped through.
Rich wood smoke—fragrant yet acrid—filled the air.
Subtle roasting meat mingled in. But faint against the building's mass.
Dang Mujin tilted his head back, gazing at Yangyang's night sky. Stars twinkled through thin clouds.
He raised both hands skyward. Flames roared between his arms. Embers mimicked stars; smoke, clouds.
With the freak dead, the chest-stifling gloom eased a touch. Dang Mujin reveled.
*Drizzle should keep it contained. Good.*
Propped on one hand, he watched the inferno.
Namgung Myeong turned, studying Dang Mujin's flame-lit profile.
After a long gaze, he sighed deeply.
*
Deep night. Flames from Jin Family Manor lit Yangyang's outskirts.
Most townsfolk slumbered deep, oblivious.
But Supreme Medical Sword Sect disciples, wakeful late, spotted it fast. Right at Jin Family Manor—Killer Veil's lair.
They raced there without word.
"Assassins torching and fleeing?"
"Base exposed—makes sense. Looks like the scum's been wiped out."
"Good."
En route, they roused nearby folk to evacuate.
Panicked but grateful, residents fled.
At the manor, the disciples noted an oddity.
Fire clung to one building alone, sparing others.
Intentional arson would raze them all.
Tense, they entered.
Three youths waited by the well. Two stood, one sat, all facing the blaze.
"You bastards!"
One drew his sword.
But he held back—assessing first.
These three torching the place meant they'd slain their pursuers, every Killer Veil assassin here.
Not a major wound among them.
*Why burn the manor? Where are the bodies?*
Thoughts raced. Wood smoke carried a strange tang.
Faint screams leaked from the blaze. Realization dawned on their atrocity.
Rage-born sword trembled with fear.
Revenge for old sect leader? No charging guts now. Staying upright was victory.
The sect leader fared no better. Fear, not vengeance, twisted his face.
He quelled it, stepping toward the seated youth.
At three or four paces, the youth spoke without turning.
"Don't draw your sword."
"Insolence!"
The youth murmured.
"Do you know why I came here?"
"Not interested!"
The sect leader bellowed, but the youth pressed on.
"Killer Veil killed one man. So I killed their assassins. Counted twenty-plus now."
"Bragging your cruelty? Vile wretch!"
"No. My point: retaliation in kind fell short. Burning over ten alive can't fill one void."
Dang Mujin faced the sect leader to conclude.
"Don't draw your sword. I can't predict how vast my next vengeance will grow."
His gaze swept the disciples.
Now they saw him clearly.
Kind-faced youth, mismatched with the horror. No feigned virtue.
Born kind, lived kind—yet couldn't stay so always.
The dissonance bred deep dread.
Dang Mujin held vigil till the building crumbled to embers, then rose.
The trio approached the sect leader. He flinched instinctively.
"Your father's loss grieves. But no baseless slaughter—you know that, Sect Leader."
With that, Dang Mujin turned toward the main gate.
Disciples parted hesitantly, yielding passage.
None stirred till the trio vanished from sight.
Silence blanketed all.
The sect leader raised his quaking arm, hurling his sword into the ashes.