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“Mountain Lord! News has come from the Third Division Lord, Hwang Dong-ryeong, who went to the Heavenly Poison Grove!”
The speaker was an elderly man with white beard, wearing the traditional Daoist robe known as hakchangui.
“Is that so? How did it go?”
The Mountain Lord replied from within the shadows, unseen.
“They failed to capture Secret Shadow.”
“Hoho! As expected of Secret Shadow. I thought they had a fair chance of victory…”
“It is said that in the duel with the Division Lord, Secret Shadow held the upper hand.”
“I heard he’s still young, yet his reputation was not undeserved. Hah, just like the previous Secret Shadow.”
The Mountain Lord seemed to have known the former Secret Shadow as well.
“Mountain Lord, this is not something to speak so lightly of. None of the Division Lord’s men returned alive.”
“If they failed, death is only natural.”
“……!”
The old Taoist reporting fell silent at the chilling tone in the Mountain Lord’s voice.
“In any case, since we now know the rough measure of Secret Shadow’s ability, send both the First and Second Division Lords this time. If they fail, they are to take their own lives.”
“Yes, sir.”
The old Taoist accepted the order with an uneasy expression. He had felt the same way when the Third Division was dispatched—uneasy just hearing the name “Secret Shadow.”
“Have you found out why the Beggar’s Sect is investigating her?”
The Mountain Lord threw another question.
“Tracing back through the beggars of the sect, it began with the elder, Shingae.”
“Shingae? That old beggar—why?”
“Secret Shadow made a request. To find the Dam Family.”
Dam Ja-cheon—another name Neung Je-gang could never forget—was mentioned. Judging from this, the “her” the Mountain Lord spoke of was likely Dam Yeo-yeong.
“Secret Shadow again? Why is he looking for Dam Ja-cheon?”
“That I cannot say, but Shingae believes even Secret Shadow was commissioned by someone else.”
“My, my! Then we can’t kill him so hastily. If we wish to know who hired him, we must capture him alive first.”
The Mountain Lord treated Neung Je-gang’s life like a mere pebble in his pocket.
“What does it matter? He is interfering with our sect’s affairs and must die. Besides, once Secret Shadow is dead, the one who hired him may reveal themselves before Shingae. I have already placed men to watch Shingae, so if that happens, we’ll learn the client’s identity easily.”
The old Daoist insisted on killing Secret Shadow. It was always best to remove dangerous elements early.
“I see. Well handled. However, I’ve heard something lately that unsettles me. Are you aware?”
“Sir? What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard even our own disciples have started calling our sect the Necromancer Cult.”
The old Taoist’s complexion turned pale.
“My apologies. I will correct it immediately. It seems the young ones picked it up from mingling too much with other sects.”
“When they mingle, they may have no choice but to use that name. But make sure their loyalty remains absolute. A single lapse could cost us everything.”
“Yes, sir.”
The old Taoist bowed and withdrew.
“So, Secret Shadow is seeking her? It’s been a long time… Perhaps I should pay her a visit myself.”
And with that, the Mountain Lord vanished back into the shadows, leaving not a single trace behind.
Thwung!
An arrow flew through the air and struck the side of a boat.
Crash!
A normal arrow would have embedded with a solid thud, but this one tore a hole as wide as a man’s torso straight through the hull.
“Uagh! There’s a hole in the ship!”
“She’s sinking!”
The sailors aboard were in chaos. To them, fire would have been preferable—fire could be doused with water, but a hole in a sinking ship had no cure.
Time meant life. Anyone who escaped a sinking ship too late would be dragged into the vortex and never see the world again.
Men threw themselves into the water, swimming frantically for their lives. Unlucky ones swam straight toward the boat carrying Neung Je-gang’s party.
The group’s eyes turned to Neung Je-gang—all with the same expression.
What can’t that man do? their faces seemed to ask.
“Hah, it feels awkward—it’s my first time shooting one of these.”
Oblivious to their stares, Neung Je-gang drew another arrow and pulled the string.
“First time, he says. And awkward, he says,” Bae Ji-sang muttered, scratching his head with a throwing knife.
Woom—snap!
Whizz!
Woom—snap!
Whizz!
Each shot from Neung Je-gang grew faster, sharper, stronger. His body, having passed through the Gate of Life and Death, had nothing but boundless energy—he could never collapse from exhaustion.
“Damn it! Why did I even buy these throwing blades?”
Bae Ji-sang grumbled, staring at the neatly arranged pile of throwing weapons before him.
Cheong Yeon had already put away her bow, and Jo Gwang-yeong was mimicking Neung Je-gang’s draw-and-release movements, trying to make them his own.
Jo Gwang-yeong wanted to absorb everything about Neung Je-gang. Not being his disciple, he couldn’t openly ask for lessons—so he copied instead.
“Would someone deal with those drowning bastards already?”
Go So-jeong, who had pulled a dagger from the ship’s railing to hurl at a swimmer, shouted as she realized she was the only one fighting.
Only then did the others notice the men trying to climb aboard. Once aboard, a desperate melee would follow.
“Oops, right! Got distracted watching something incredible.”
Finally, Bae Ji-sang’s throwing skills came alive. Those clinging to the hull were sliced down by Cheong Yeon and Jo Gwang-yeong’s sword and blade, while Go So-jeong and Bae Ji-sang skewered the swimmers with daggers and throwing knives.
Woom—snap!
Whizz!
Another arrow tore the sky, smashing apart a small ferryboat. The arrow pierced through an unknown martial artist trying to block it, then punched another hole in the boat.
“They’re retreating!”
Go So-jeong shouted.
“Woo-yahp!”
Bae Ji-sang gave a fierce shout as if he’d driven them off alone.
No fool dared approach a ship that would sink upon nearing it.
And surrounding Neung Je-gang’s boat were white, floating corpses carried by the current.
Amid cheers from his comrades, the ships Yang Wi-ryeong had sent finally lost the will to fight.
“Raise the anchor!”
The hiding captain shouted from above deck, but the terrified sailors didn’t appear.
“Raise the damned anchor, you cowards!”
Only after Go So-jeong infused her voice with inner power did the sailors emerge, realize the battle was over, and hurry to haul up the anchor.
“Set sail!”
The sails unfurled, and the stalled ship gathered speed once more. The farther they advanced, the faster the fleeing enemy ships ran, consumed by fear.
Thus, Neung Je-gang’s group escaped crisis and cut swiftly through the current again.
“Captain, why is the pier so quiet? Are we at the right place?”
Their ship docked. This was the end of the route contracted with the captain—it was time to disembark.
“Yes. Listen carefully. The enemy won’t appear until we’re off the ship. No—until we disembark and the ship leaves, they won’t attack. They know once we’re aboard, they have no means to deal with us.”
Nods all around.
“Our first task is to break through the enemy encirclement and reach that hill over there.”
They followed the direction of Neung Je-gang’s pointing finger. It was less a hill than a small rise.
“Why go there? Wouldn’t it be better to fight here at the pier? We can retreat to the water if things go wrong—it seems safer.”
Of course, Bae Ji-sang was the one to ask. The others only nodded to whatever Neung Je-gang said.
“If we fight at the pier, we can flee to the water when pressed—but so can they. We’re heading for that hill to lure them in and cut off their retreat. Once we reach it, the Master of the No-Poison Sect will lead his warriors to surround them in turn.”
Neung Je-gang sketched the plan on the deck—a clear, understandable map.
But there was one obvious problem.
“Th-then where do we escape to?”
Exactly—the problem. Even if the No-Poison Sect surrounded the enemy, they themselves would be trapped in the center, with nowhere to retreat.
“We risk our lives.”
“Sigh—!”
Everyone groaned at those familiar words. They were tired of hearing them.
Still, having Neung Je-gang among them somehow made them feel secure. It had always been that way—whatever seemed impossible, he would resolve it.
The group prepared to disembark.
Bae Ji-sang gathered the remaining throwing blades, Neung Je-gang took up the bow he was starting to enjoy, and Majil carried an armful of arrows, grumbling about being reduced to a porter.
They left the ship. The captain waved farewell and drifted downriver.
That vessel would pass Uiju and head to Haji to take new passengers. Normally, it would have taken people aboard here too, but the crowd of martial artists had scared everyone away.
At the front stood Neung Je-gang—the one best suited to handle a sudden ambush.
Calmly, he advanced toward the hill ahead. But something was wrong—no one blocked their path. The killing intent in the air pricked at the skin, yet no attack came.
Step, step…
Then figures appeared atop the hill, spreading murderous intent as they blocked the path.
Cheong Yeon’s eyes trembled—it was the uniform of the Bloody Veins Unit, the very division he had once led. His former subordinates, brothers-in-arms.
They said nothing, nor did Cheong Yeon. They did not ask why he had betrayed them; they merely emanated killing intent thick enough to choke the air.
Clang! Shrring!
Cheong Yeon and Jo Gwang-yeong drew their weapons. Go So-jeong drew her dagger. Bae Ji-sang slipped sharp throwing blades between his fingers.
Behind Neung Je-gang, Majil clutched the arrows, eyes gleaming—ready to stomp and raise earthen spikes at any moment.
Neung Je-gang’s hand rested lightly on the hilt of the Heartless Blade.
“Attack!”
The command came from somewhere unseen.
Papapapak!
The Bloody Veins fighters charged.
Flash!
Neung Je-gang used a strong move from the start. Sword energy of the Heartless Blade surged forth, riding waves of Blue Surge.
“Argh!”
“Keugh!”
The leading attackers were flung away, blood spraying. Those behind, drenched in that blood, swung their blades regardless, heedless of pain or fear.
Boom!
Thud!
Majil stomped the ground, raising an earthen wall before the suicidal Bloody Veins warriors. Their vision was gone—nothing but dirt before their eyes.
Even they couldn’t help but falter—how could they swing blindly?
Go So-jeong’s dagger pierced through the wall. She didn’t need to aim—there were only enemies behind it.
“Gah!”
“Urgh!”
She wasn’t the only one who seized the chance. Bae Ji-sang’s throwing blades soared over the wall, and screams followed as men fell, impaled.
“Don’t retreat! Kill them! Even if you die, kill them first!”
A burly man with a beard, dressed in the same uniform, shouted, rallying his comrades.
The Bloody Veins fighters, reckless and grim, charged again, slashing wildly.
At the front, where Neung Je-gang stood, few remained alive. In just a few swings, he had cut them all down—flesh, weapons, everything.
His mercilessness was terrifying. Even the Bloody Veins men no longer wished to face him.
“There’s only six of them! Kill them!”
Sensing the tide turning, the bearded warrior kept shouting to stir his comrades’ courage.
Six—it was only six of them.
Then why was killing just six so difficult?
“Damn it! Why isn’t the Sect Master attacking?”
He looked around—but the Sect Master who had ordered them to kill those six was nowhere to be seen.
His gaze fell on Neung Je-gang, walking forward at an unhurried pace, lazily swinging his blade as though playing.
Yet wherever his sword played, heads rolled and corpses fell.
Cheong Yeon, too, was shocking to behold. Whether he had gained some miraculous opportunity or simply improved beyond recognition, his sword danced freely through the air, severing limbs like a storm.
“When did that man get that strong?”
Even Cho Gwang-yeong, once infamous more for his foul temper than his skill, now fought with demonic ferocity—his saber aura rising like smoke. None could withstand his strikes.
Until recently, that same Cho Gwang-yeong had seemed on par with the bearded man. His face now drained pale. Perhaps, he thought, even their Sect Master had fled after witnessing this massacre.
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