Episode 100. The Leader of a Not-So-Mysterious Force
I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through the mind of the Paegeomhoe master who had so foolishly come alone.
“Why come by yourself? Got betrayed? Or did you happen to stumble upon some miraculous opportunity at the edge of a cliff?”
“Do you truly think that’s possible?”
“Baldy, in the underworld, you should always watch out for your second-in-command.”
The Paegeomhoe master tilted his head slightly. Maybe it was my tone — I didn’t sound much like the typical black-clad assassin. His expression turned sour as he replied,
“Betrayal means nothing in the martial world. The strong take everything. That’s all there is.”
I unfolded my arms and drew Black Cat Fang.
“Well said. I’ll remember that.”
The Paegeomhoe master also drew his sword slowly and asked, “How much were you paid for this job?”
“Why do you ask?”
He looked down on me like a merchant inspecting cheap goods. “Tell me.”
“Thirty-nine thousand, eight hundred taels, you bastard.”
“……”
“What’s wrong?”
“You killers act only for money. I don’t hold grudges against men like you. I don’t mix business with emotion. I’ll double whatever your client paid. Kill the one who sent you, and I’ll pay up. I have no feelings about your kind.”
“……”
I realized he was deliberately stalling, probably waiting for his subordinates. Fine — I was a black-clad man. No need for talk. Just action.
I swung first.
The Paegeomhoe master parried with a draw-slash, sending my blade back. I countered immediately with a flaming Great Flame Palm.
BOOM!
The air thundered like a drum. The master staggered back seven paces, his face painted in shock. I couldn’t help but grin.
“What’s wrong, baldy? Surprised?”
His head — red from the heat of my flame energy — gleamed in the moonlight. For a second, it looked like I was fighting a giant red squid. I was startled myself.
“Damn, that’s disturbing.”
He looked like a man whose wicked deeds had twisted his face over time. Every move made the oily sheen on his head glimmer, shifting his expression from one grotesque shade to another.
“He’s evil to the bone… even his face can’t keep up.”
People’s faces change with their thoughts — and this one had clearly devolved into something less than human. A degenerate species. A red squid pretending to be a man.
And unlike real squid, this one wouldn’t even be satisfying to kill — just unpleasant.
I lunged forward, infusing my sword with Mokgye energy to stop him from fleeing.
“Don’t even think about running, you red squid, red octopus, boiled egghead, teenage blush, rosy-cheeked baldy!”
I cringed at my own nonsense. Even I wasn’t sure what I was saying anymore. Maybe because I’d been practicing swordplay instead of my usual blade techniques — my rhythm felt off.
The Paegeomhoe master, meanwhile, was clearly looking for an escape. His movements were sharp but anxious. Though his inner power could match my Great Flame Palm, his swordsmanship lacked depth — the skill of a leader who rarely fought for himself.
He had command presence, yes, but no battlefield experience. He’d spent years giving orders, not crossing blades.
Such men always falter when they meet a real fighter.
And that was his mistake — to think I was just another hired killer.
I didn’t let up, keeping the pressure constant. My strikes combined palms, force bursts, and occasional Qi Absorption techniques that yanked at his wrist, arm, or blade — breaking his balance, forcing him into defense.
Even if I didn’t like how my current techniques flowed, the variety made up for it. My attacks became unpredictable, relentless, and devastating.
As his face twisted in panic, I kept up the psychological assault in a low, steady voice.
“It’s over. Begging won’t save you. When your corpse is found, Paegeomhoe and Namcheon-ryeon will tear each other apart. Your wealth will scatter, your men will die, and both sides will be in ruins. You’re seafood. I’m the fisherman.”
The Fisherman’s Gain. The old story about two fools fighting while the fisherman takes them both. I couldn’t remember if it was a frog and a turtle or a squid and an eel, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was always the fisherman pulling the net.
When I saw his footing falter, I slashed across his forearm. A thin line of blood burst forth — perfect. Before he could react, I activated Qi Absorption again, drawing the blood out like a thread.
The technique came to me mid-battle, so I named it on the spot: Excessive Bleeding.
Then I cut through the stream of blood with flame-infused steel. Sparks erupted, and sizzling droplets burst into smoke midair. When the burning spray hit him, he recoiled in horror, his clothes peppered with tiny holes.
Now I had him completely overwhelmed.
Even though Black Cat Fang wasn’t made for thrusting, I lunged again and again — fast, precise, merciless.
Chak! Chak! Chang!
To his credit, he blocked seven consecutive thrusts perfectly. Not bad — no wonder he sat at the top of Paegeomhoe.
But to me, his defensive movements looked like the flailing of a squid’s tentacles. It made my stomach turn.
“You’re good at wriggling, squid.”
It struck me then — if I didn’t finish him here, this man would someday become a true menace to the martial world. A massive squid demon, dark and dripping with black ink, poisoning everything around him.
Maybe in my past life, he was killed by Namcheon-ryeon’s leader. Or perhaps by that Red-Clad fool, Chun Dangju.
Either way, his destiny ended the same: death.
I gathered flame energy in my hands, scattering it with a sweeping motion to blur his vision, then shot a low palm strike to pull his leg from under him. He stumbled, lost balance, and tried to leap backward — but I caught his ankle midair and slammed him into the ground.
BOOM!
I twisted his ankle until it cracked. His screams filled the clearing. I disarmed him, smashed him to the floor several more times, and reached for his hair — then thought better of it and grabbed his throat instead.
“Kuhk…”
My lack of sleep caught up with me, and rage took over. I tightened my grip, snarling, “Why’d you send assassins after me, huh? Do you know how tired I am, you bastard?”
“Who… are you…” he rasped.
I pressed on a vital point near his neck and whispered, “I am the Lord of the Hao Clan.”
I gripped his hand. A swordsman’s hand — yet soft, no calluses. I crushed it without hesitation, drained his inner power, and clamped a hand over his mouth as he screamed.
Then I stopped. His inner energy felt filthy. I pulled back — and with one clean strike to his throat, ended the red squid’s miserable life.
His body went limp, collapsing onto the cold ground.
“……”
From afar, I heard movement — the delayed response of his soldiers.
“Oh, now they move…”
I reined in my temper — I hadn’t come here to slaughter everyone. Instead, I picked up his sword and spoke to the corpse.
“Did you at least know your second-in-command betrayed you?”
“……”
“Didn’t think so.”
I recalled Chun Dangju’s calm composure earlier — how he had dodged when I threw the spear, while the master had foolishly caught it. He’d mistaken my Mokgye power for my full strength. It made sense — assassins usually go all out in that moment.
Betrayal and ambition — the usual story. No surprise there.
Even if the master had unmatched speed, his men’s hesitation said everything. Chun Dangju was already seizing control — playing fisherman, just like me.
But power gained through betrayal is as fleeting as smoke. Soon Paegeomhoe would burn — by Namcheon-ryeon’s hands, or mine.
I took the dead master’s sword and sheath and disappeared into the night. Whether my plan to pit them against each other worked or not didn’t really matter. What mattered was this: the Paegeomhoe master was dead. And in the martial world, killing ends every argument.
“I’ve come to deliver a parcel.”
I set the master’s long sword on the table. Gong Doodan, the head courier of Blue-Eyed Escort Agency, examined it carefully before asking, “Where should this be delivered?”
“To the Namcheon-ryeon leader. Urgently. Name your price.”
He frowned. “May I ask whose sword this is?”
I brushed back my hair and said flatly, “The bald man’s sword.”
“And this ‘bald man’ is…?”
I yawned, my eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. What should’ve been a quick drop-off was turning into a small audience — the main hall filled as more escorts and guards peeked in.
I sighed. “I told you. It’s the sword of the bald man.”
“We just need to verify it’s not stolen property. It’s a rare blade.”
“Not stolen. It belonged to the Paegeomhoe master.”
Silence fell over the hall like frost. I could practically see the blood drain from their faces. So this was indeed the escort bureau Nam Garak had suspected — one with ties to Paegeomhoe, pretending otherwise to save face.
I looked around. “Why the sour faces? Something wrong with the parcel?”
Gong Doodan finally asked, “So the Paegeomhoe master is dead?”
“He’s dead.”
“You seem to know our bureau’s connection to Paegeomhoe. What do you want?”
“Nothing shady. This is a legitimate delivery request. Send the sword to Namcheon-ryeon’s leader. Sa Do-haeng’s not stupid — he’ll gather troops and crush Paegeomhoe once he sees it. I just didn’t want to bother carrying it myself. This was the nearest bureau. Wrong choice?”
I tapped the table. “You’re an escort bureau. Do your job. And give me a room. I need sleep. Haven’t slept well since your assassins came after me. If Chun Dangju comes looking, tell him you never saw me. He betrayed his master, but he’ll want to pin the whole mess on me.”
Words spilled out of my half-asleep mouth without filter. The head courier said nothing, his face pale. I blinked at him, eyes drooping. “And don’t ambush me while I’m sleeping. The reason your master’s dead is because someone woke me up. Understand?”
He finally turned to his men. “Escort our guest to a room.”
I stood, muttering, “And the parcel?”
“We’ll assign men immediately and begin the delivery.”
I followed the attendant out. “Good. The future of your bureau depends on this. Let’s see how it goes.”
Once inside a spacious guest room, I lay down on the bed and told the young escort who’d guided me, “Hey.”
“Yes?”
“If anyone wakes me up, you all die. Got it? Keep that to yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hesitated at the door. “Was the Paegeomhoe master truly dead?”
“Yep.”
“Did you kill him yourself?”
“Of course.”
“May I ask who you are?”
With my eyes closed, I answered softly, “I’m the man who’s always being hunted, who once fell off a cliff, found a fateful power there, the master of the shadows, leader of a not-so-mysterious force, a black-clad man whose identity is perfectly clear… not bald, but strong nonetheless…”
My eyelids grew heavier.
“…That’s who I am.”