When A Woman Harbors Resentment (3)

“Sob… hic!”

Go So-jeong couldn’t stop crying.

“What is this….”

Neung Je-gang’s face wasn’t ugly, of course. But there were far more handsome faces across the martial world—in short, it was ordinary.

She had thought he was the most stunning man under heaven, only to learn that face had been fabricated.

She had stormed out, declaring to her father she’d die if she couldn’t have Neung Je-gang; how could she now return as if nothing had happened?

If this got out, her father would use it as a leash to make her work for him for life.

“Um… Lady Go.”

“Shut your mouth. Don’t say a word until I ask. Waaah!”

Neung Je-gang had a headache. He felt wronged. What exactly had he done wrong?

Changing one’s face wasn’t a crime. True, choosing a handsomer face than his original could be “problematic,” but if you’re going to change faces at all, isn’t it human nature not to choose an ugly one?

“Sorry, but could you leave now? How long am I supposed to watch someone barge into my training, crying and wailing….”

At last, even he was annoyed.

After all, she was the one who’d made a fuss after falling for a face. Had he ever even played along? That was why his sense of injustice burned.

“Y-you…!”

At his suddenly cold tone, Go So-jeong’s eyes went round.

“You? When did I ever ask you to like me, Lady? Did I ever say I liked you? You wore a veil; I altered my face. How is that such a crime?”

“Y-you…!”

Her temper was about to explode.

“I’m tired. Cry all you want—just do it somewhere else.”

He turned back to the bath and sat on the stone seat.

“Die!”

She snapped. Her two prized daggers flashed toward him.

Clang-clack!

He batted them away with the No-Mind Sword.

“Go throw your tantrums at your parents. Don’t complicate my already complicated life.”

Having been attacked, he dispensed with courtesy. She had shown intent to harm; there was no reason to be polite.

His clan had suffered a bloodbath because of his younger brother’s betrothed; he had no interest in women. Je So-yeon from the Shinsu Household had chased him all the way to Kuaiji Mountain for favor, yet he’d left without even meeting her.

Even as an Eastern Depot operative, if no case demanded it he secluded himself to train. The more cases he’d lived through, the less interest he’d had in women.

The word he hated most—betrayal—always seemed to contain two corollaries: a woman’s change of heart and a man’s philandering. And those fickle women, in his experience, were always pretty.

Pretty, with a hellish temper.

His least favorite type—and Go So-jeong fit the list.

Srrrip—

The flung daggers spun back into her hands.

“Fine! I don’t want to stay near an ugly man like you anyway. But I will never forget today’s humiliation. I’ll have my revenge. I swear it.”

She ground her teeth.

They said when a woman nursed a grudge, frost fell even in high summer.

“As you wish….”

Leaving his curt reply behind, she leapt away and vanished.

“Sigh. This is going to be trouble.”

He resumed cultivation, muttering—but at least he’d shaken her off.

Love born of looks never lasted. A handsomer face could always appear, and that love could always shift.

“Damn it.”

He stopped, stood up. His mind wouldn’t settle; her last look kept tugging at him. He’d sent her off for good—so why this unease?

“I’ve gained enough for now. Back to the real case.”

He went out to the cache where he had hidden the Assassin Pavilion ledgers.

Mid-slope on Mount Li, in a small cave, his hands flew through page after page.

“This is it—the place that took the contract on my life. Luoyang, Henan… a stone’s throw from the Martial Alliance.”

The contract date was the day after he left the Alliance.

“So, after hearing Gal Hwi-jeong’s report, the killer carried a hundred thousand taels to Luoyang and placed the contract. There’s a collaborator—an organization that can raise a hundred thousand taels in a day.”

A hundred thousand in gold—more than he had requested from the Alliance to fund Kuaiji Mountain. Even the Alliance had balked at such a sum.

Yet that group raised it overnight.

“Trade? Nothing else runs that kind of liquid capital. And a woman who places the contract and then kills herself—this is an old outfit. You don’t cultivate that sort of agent in a day. Put it together, and you get an old, giant merchant consortium in Henan tied to the killer.”

He closed the ledgers.

The assassin network chart offered little. He knew where the Pavilion had trained its killers, but with their base broken, any satellite cell would wither without support.

“There are two paths to the killer: trace the connected organization, or enter the Martial Alliance and investigate one by one. A den like the Alliance is a dragon’s pool and a tiger’s den—hunting the organization is easier. But where do I get Henan’s trade intel?”

He lay back, using the ledgers as a pillow.

“When it’s light, I’ll try the Hao Sect.”

He closed his eyes to sleep.

Go So-jeong returned to her original task: shadow Secret Shadow’s movements and report to the Alliance.

Of course, she had another aim:

Find his fatal weakness, force him to kneel and beg for mercy before her—and then kill him.

To that end, she had tailed him silently from the moment he left the hot spring, keeping proper distance instead of closing in for his face as before. Now that she knew his true looks, a prettier mask wouldn’t sway her.

She didn’t know what ledgers he was reading, but she heard everything he said.

Some of it struck like thunder: the killer was inside the Martial Alliance.

‘Does Father know this?’

She needed to tell Go Won-gi at once. High-level Alliance secrets might be leaking through the killer.

As a spy by trade, the thought of information bleeding out hurt worst of all.

‘Bastard!’

Glaring at the cave where he slept, she wanted to collapse it on his head.

But she held back—and dusted the cave thickly with her orchid tracking powder. She would need that to follow him after reporting to the Alliance.

‘He said he’s going to the Hao Sect? Just wait. I’ll have Father give me Blood Rain—and I’ll have my revenge.’

Grinding her teeth, she sprinted toward the Alliance.

Flash—

The instant she left, Neung Je-gang’s eyes opened.

“She’s a she-devil. I’m in deep. Should I have just tolerated her a bit longer?”

Had he indulged her until her temper cooled, it might not have come to this.

But there was no point in such thoughts now.

“She’s a spy—she must have sprinkled more tracking powder.”

The moment she arrived at Huaqing Pool, he had noticed it on him.

Since then, he had quietly mantled his body with qi to keep new powder from touching him. He couldn’t carry a permanent tracker. The earlier dose was unavoidable, but he refused any fresh mark.

He gathered the curtain bundle with ledgers and money and vanished into the night.

If Go So-jeong wanted to track him again, she would have to sweat for it.

Days passed. Confirming no one trailed him, he moved.

Luoyang, the “Ancient Capital of Nine Dynasties,” had been the seat of nine kings since Zhou times.

Under its storied night sky, a ghost of a shadow skated along.

Deep within the Luoyang prefectural compound stood an unnamed building.

Small in scale, but this was the Luoyang safehouse of the Eastern Depot—the greatest intelligence service of the Central Plains.

Even late at night, its lamps burned. No figures were visible, but agents lurked everywhere.

Sscrrkk—sscrrk…

A leaf skittered along the ground on the wind—then suddenly rose into the air.

Whip—whip-whip!

Agents struck for the leaf on instinct, exactly as trained for sudden anomalies.

None imagined that, in that heartbeat, another hand had already struck for them.

Shrrrip—

A spiral gust swept through—and everything in the building froze.

Srrrip—

Neung Je-gang alighted at the center of the hall.

“Pardon me. I need some information. I won’t kill you, so don’t panic.”

They had failed to stop the intruder; by morning they would likely be dead anyway. Still, saying it eased his guilt a little.

He descended to the basement.

The immobilized agents’ eyes widened—he was operating the building’s mechanisms as if he’d known them all along.

“No need to be so shocked. I was at the Depot, once.”

On paper he still belonged to the Depot Martial Academy, so leaking this much would only kick the Depot into motion—retired hands would suffer, perhaps, but that wasn’t his concern.

“Here we are. They wouldn’t ignore the major merchants.”

The dossier he found detailed Henan’s traders: their wealth, family ties, and misdeeds ripe for leverage.

Reading through the lot, he found common threads among several merchants: they regularly visited the same luxury pleasure house in Zhengzhou—the city of the Martial Alliance—and on the same dates.

“That’s enough to confirm a link. There should be a dedicated file on them….”

This was the Eastern Depot—such things wouldn’t be missed.

He rummaged further, and finally found a file on the organization tied to those merchants.

“Southern Merchants League. Over half of Henan’s merchants are members. The host site for their gatherings is Taepyeong Pavilion; the League Master is unknown.”

He lifted his head.

“Shift change?”

Someone was approaching from a distance.

“I’ll skim the rest and go. Hmm… Taepyeong Pavilion’s madam is a middle-aged woman called So-hee. Appears to possess high-level martial arts; no matching figure found among known demonic sect experts. Tsk. The Depot really doesn’t like the demonic paths—always look there first. As yet, no acts contrary to the authorities’ interests, and their purpose for uniting is unknown. That’s it? So the great Depot only pinned down a single pleasure house. You’ve fallen off.”

He put the file back and moved up.

“Who goes there!”

He’d known someone was coming, but finishing the file cost him that heartbeat.

The woman who leveled a sword at his neck blinked—stunned by an absurdly handsome face.

“The Depot has women now? Since when did you change so much?”

He cocked his head. She was a woman in men’s attire.

“You don’t know me—so you’re no Depot man. Don’t move. Submit to binding!”

Fweeeet!

The Depot’s warning whistle shrieked. Five elite guards appeared at her side, blades hemming Neung Je-gang—strike at the slightest false move.

“Impressive. Now I’m curious who you are.”

The guards’ caliber was nothing to sneeze at; few experts could make Neung Je-gang feel this taut.

“Mind your tongue. She is not a person for the likes of you to name.”

One guard snapped.

Outside, Luoyang’s prefectural guards and Depot agents closed in—no gap to slip through.

‘Damn. Royal blood—a princess? If she’s a princess, those are Eorim Institute guards.’

The Brocade Guard protected the palace and imperial clan; the Eorim Institute protected only the Emperor and direct royals—princesses and princes. Fewer in number, but every one a master, and fanatically loyal.

‘Eorim or Depot—getting tied to the authorities is the last thing I want.’

He slowly gathered power, lifted the No-Mind Sword, and hooked it over his shoulder. It still lacked a scabbard; carrying it was awkward.

“Apologies—I’m busy too. Perhaps we’ll meet again, but for tonight, let’s part here.”

Boom!

Before the sentence finished, his figure shot for the roof—knees unbent—the pinnacle of lightness skill.

The ceiling burst; shattered tiles rained down.

“Inertia-less Lightness Art! After him!”

One Eorim master shouted in astonishment.

“Y-Your Highness!”

Eorim guards batted fragments away from the princess’s head; outside, the Depot’s masters sprang skyward in pursuit.

Guarding the princess was the Eorim Institute’s duty; the chase fell to the Eastern Depot and the Brocade Guard.

But they soon returned empty-handed. There was no counter to his illusion—Neung Je-gang vanished before their eyes like a snuffed flame.