Episode 54. Shh.
Even Daenachal finally laughed.
“That’s not something a disciple of mine should be saying. Show me your face. The mask means nothing now.”
Which, of course, made me want to keep it on even more.
Tell me to do something, and I’ll do the opposite—that’s who I am.
“I’m not your slave. I don’t take off what you tell me to. Why are you asking someone you just met to take it off? What are you, some kind of pervert? Old man.”
“Pervert” was for Heocho, and “old man” was the finishing blow.
“Whether it’s the dead one or the master, your way of thinking is just as rotten.”
“Keh keh keh…”
Daenachal’s laugh was as hideous as ever. I shuddered. “Ugh. Creepy.”
I’ve met many deranged freaks in my life—warped martial artists whose cultivation twisted them beyond reason—but even among them, Daenachal’s laughter ranked high in sheer disgust. Maybe it was because that same laugh always came right before he ordered someone’s death.
It wasn’t for nothing he was called Daenachal. His appearance alone was intimidation given form.
Sure enough, my death sentence followed.
“All Four Envoys, attack.”
Before they could move, I said, “Daenachal, do you really have to live so disgracefully?”
“…”
“If the Four Envoys all come at me, I’ll just run. My lightness skill is better than my martial arts. Let’s play a game of Heavenly Net. But if you, the old master, come at me yourself—then I’ll take the duel like a man.”
In short: if the lackeys attack, I run; if the boss attacks, I fight. Not exactly logical tactics, but fitting for me.
Still, I knew I could break through the Twelve Generals’ encirclement. Thanks to this mask, none of them had seen my face. I could change clothes mid-flight, toss the mask somewhere, grab a rag, and start wiping tables in a tavern. Neither the Four Envoys nor Daenachal would recognize me.
That’s what you’d call the ultimate disguise—disguising yourself as yourself.
“If I escape, I won’t show up again for a while. Maybe I’ll ‘fall off a cliff’ and come back with some miraculous encounter. So, what’ll it be—Heavenly Net or one-on-one? If you dodge the duel, I’ll make sure all of Nanhwa hears that the great Daenachal chickened out. I talk a lot, you know.”
I grinned, then glanced at the others.
Never let your guard down in the martial world. The Four Envoys might not stop the master from killing his own disciple. Anyone who’s served under such a madman for years can’t be entirely sane.
Surprisingly, Daenachal hesitated, thinking it over. Naturally, I filled the silence.
“Listen well, all of you. Do you know why your pitiful master wants you to fight me first? So he can observe. Watch how I move, what I use—my techniques, my strengths, my weaknesses. If I fight you, all that gets exposed. And then what? He sends you all to hell ahead of him and enjoys his ‘glory’ alone.”
I looked around at the younger disciples and realized something.
“All of you are young. But your master is old. Ever wonder what happened to his previous disciples? Maybe he just replaces them each time one dies—hands down the masks and fills the ranks again. Hey, that black ox over there—how old are you?”
Everyone’s eyes turned toward Hyeonchuk, the youngest of the Twelve Generals. Even without seeing his face, his frame screamed inexperience.
“Of course, our great master doesn’t care if his disciples die. Anyone here disagree? Raise your hand.”
I raised mine first—a trap, to see who’d follow. No one took the bait.
“As expected…”
Daenachal chuckled, watching me as though humoring a child. “A lunatic pretending to be my disciple, eh?”
“Agreed,” I said. “Masks worsen delusion. The others should be cautious.”
Daenachal rose from his seat. “So be it. I’ll face you myself.”
As he spoke, his eyes flicked subtly toward the Four Envoys. A meaningless glance? Hardly. In moments like this, there’s no such thing as coincidence.
If he faced me directly, the others might still strike from behind. A duel of pure internal strength would be suicide.
I understood then: the old man’s brain worked just fine—it was just twisted.
Which meant the “bracket” was even more of a mess. I’d likely be fighting Daenachal, Baekin, Cheongjin, Jeoksa, and maybe even Baekyu.
I scratched the back of my head, then suddenly launched myself toward the wall where Baekyu sat.
In midair, I drew Black Cat Fang.
My blade came down in a furious arc toward Baekyu. Startled, he raised his iron fan to block—but I hadn’t really attacked. My sword light was pure feint.
While he reacted, I sheathed the blade and stomped down, bursting forward in a streak of motion like a gale. Behind me, Baekin, Cheongjin, and Jeoksa leaped down to chase, and Baekyu, realizing he’d been tricked, followed with the others.
Now for the real game.
If I ran too far, they might give up the chase. So I slowed, turned, and faced them as they closed in.
The sight of me standing calmly, hands clasped behind my back, made them all hesitate mid-run.
“Where’s our master?” I asked aloud. “Ah—there he is.”
Daenachal stood atop the wall, watching.
I turned to the Four Envoys and whispered just loud enough for him to barely hear, “Don’t worry, brothers. I’ll kill the master myself. Just follow my lead.”
To Daenachal’s sharp ears, it would’ve sounded like secret collusion. And the fact that the Envoys were frozen in place only added to the illusion.
Sure enough, he barked, “Why are you idiots just standing there? Attack!”
“Senile old bastard…” I muttered.
Jeoksa moved first, his weapon flashing. The others followed suit, blades and staves drawn.
I darted right, diving into a narrow alleyway.
My skill in light movement was simple to explain. Dragged across the continent from the Central Plains to Tibet, then from Tibet all the way to Zhejiang—for no good reason at all. When your teacher is a mad monk who won’t stop walking, you either die or get faster.
I’d run after turtles, after flower scents, after imaginary fish in rivers. I’d run while he meditated, while he hummed, even while he fished. Running became breathing.
Leaping between the narrow walls of the alley, I kicked off and soared onto the rooftops.
From above, the southern town of Nanhwa spread out below me. I shaded my eyes and spotted Ilyang County in the distance—it looked much closer than I’d thought.
Whistling, I bounded across the rooftops.
Perhaps realizing it was foolish to follow in a straight line, masked disciples began springing up from rooftops all around me.
“You’re all working hard,” I called. “Just hold on a little longer.”
Apparently, they’d had enough patience—throwing weapons filled the air. Sharp needles, round discs, ugly spikes, even hair-thin pins catching sunlight like glittering rain.
Such was my life—constantly hunted. No wonder most of my dreams involve running for my life. The rest… usually involve women. Dreams are innocent, after all.
Always running, always chased—by disciples, assassins, and even monks with fishing rods. Pitiful man, that’s me.
As I vaulted over a wide gap between rooftops, a dagger streaked toward me. I spun, deflecting it with Black Cat Fang, and landed lightly.
The sky was bright and clear; perfect day for drying laundry.
“Ah, look at those clouds…”
I memorized everything at a glance—their positions, the rooftops, even the laundry lines. Then I feigned a misstep and fell.
Midair, I snagged a line of clean laundry, kicked off a wall, and slipped neatly through an open window. Twisting your body to avoid catching the frame—basic escape technique.
Inside, the room was empty. I slid my black robe and mask under the bed and changed into fresh, clean clothes.
Fresh. Bright. Confident.
Judging from the atmosphere, this wasn’t a man’s room. Opening a drawer, I hid Black Cat Fang between folded women’s undergarments.
Not because I’m a pervert—just busy. Hongshin would recover it later; that’s what I trained her for.
I slipped out quietly. As I moved through the courtyard, an old woman’s voice called out, “Going out again instead of studying, boy?”
She sat weaving with her back to me. I prayed some lazy good-for-nothing really lived here and replied softly, “I’ll be back early, Grandma.”
“Don’t drink too much,” she said with weary affection.
“Yes, Grandma.”
Outside, I surveyed the street, then crossed to a nearby tavern. The tavern boy’s eyes darted nervously toward the rooftops—clearly aware a fight had broken out somewhere.
I tapped his shoulder and took a seat by the window, where I could watch the street. “Got any Dougangju?”
“Ah, yes! Just a moment!”
As he rushed off, he couldn’t help gawking at the masked fighters leaping over the rooftops. “Wow… I’ll bring it right out!”
A nosy brat, doing his job half-assedly. He returned with a bottle and a few side dishes, barely setting them down before peering outside again.
I poured myself a drink. “What’s going on? A fight?”
He nodded. “Big one. Lots of the Twelve Generals showed up.”
I took a sip, chewed some dried fish, and said, “Have a drink.”
“Ah—thank you.”
He sat across from me naturally, holding out his cup. I poured for him.
“Noisy day,” I said.
“Sure is.”
We both downed our cups and leaned back, watching the street with casual interest.
Between bites, he muttered, “Look at them, all panicking. Pathetic bastards. Same thing every day.”
When more masked figures appeared up ahead, he immediately lowered his gaze, chewing silently.
I watched him—the instincts of a survivor. The lesser Generals stormed past, glaring at us before moving on.
I whispered, “People should live with a little calm.”
“Agreed,” he said, refilling his cup without shame. A true professional freeloader—his skill at mooching drinks was pure mastery. I poured him another cup; how could I refuse one of my own kind?
After drinking, he leaned in and whispered, “When Daenachal gets angry, the whole town goes silent. See? Already quiet. But don’t tell anyone I said this. Word is… the Yellow Ox General’s been assassinated.”
I whispered back, “Not Nok-sul?”
“Oh—right. Nok-sul. How’d you know?”
“Because I just saw Yellow Ox walk by.”
“…Really?”
The tavern boy froze, his eyes meeting mine. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he swallowed hard and straightened his posture. Sharp kid.
I looked him in the eye, raised a finger to my lips, and said quietly,
“Shh.”
We held each other’s gaze for a moment… and then, at the exact same time, nodded once.