Shadow Unit (2)

On a night when the pale waxing moon cast deep shadows across the jungle.

Sag Muhun, captain of Squad Four of the Murim Alliance’s Shadow Unit and reputed to be the finest warrior among all shadow operatives, waited in the thicket for his target to arrive.

The target was a woman named Cheong-yeon from the Thirteenth Flying Dragon Squad’s Seventh Team.

Tonight was the night she was to die.

Of course, he did not know what crime warranted her death—nor did he care to know.

If she was a woman currently serving at the front, odds were high it would be an unjust death.

But once an order was issued, there was nothing to be done.

They had no choice in such matters.

[If you disobey orders, you will have no cause to resent death.]

So read the oath they had signed to enter the Shadow Unit.

Having set foot here, obedience was the only way to survive.

His only comfort was that this life would end in one more year.

After a full decade, he could finally step into the light.

As always, on the eve of a mission, Sag Muhun steeled himself.

‘I will endure one more year and stand proudly before him.’

Firming his resolve like a pre-battle rite, he refocused on the job at hand.

This one was a bit more bothersome than usual.

If she were a discharged veteran, they could simply learn her release date and kill her after she left alone. But because she was still active duty, things were more complicated.

Not harder—just fussier.

A week earlier, they had visited the Thirteen Squads under the guise of Alliance inspectors and gathered detailed information on each member and patrol rotation.

When shown the inspector’s token, Vice-Commander Heon Yeongbo had cooperated fully and handed over everything.

Using that data, Sag Muhun decided to strike during the Seventh Team’s night patrol—tonight.

He gathered his operatives and spoke in a low voice.

“Numbers Five, Six, Seven—lure in ghasts. You can do it, yes?”

The members, still addressed by numbers because they were not captains, nodded crisply.

They knew the front as well as any sentry; there would be no problem.

“Numbers One and Two—stall the man called Captain Seol Pung. Reports say he’s Pinnacle Realm—not at the threshold, but seasoned. He may be my equal—or beyond.”

One of the three Pinnacle masters in Squad Four, Number Two, objected.

“That’s absurd. How could someone still in his twenties be comparable to our captain, who is rated the Shadow Unit’s best?”

Indeed, in his late thirties, Sag Muhun was considered the Unit’s top operative—likely to walk into daylight next year as a commander of a regular strike force.

But Sag Muhun shook his head coolly.

“Better to overestimate and prepare than underestimate and grow lax. I don’t expect you to lose—but don’t relax for a moment.”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Understood!”

The plan was to lure ghasts into a collision with Seventh Team, then abduct the woman called Cheong-yeon.

The high-risk target Seol Pung would be engaged by Pinnacle masters One and Two; the rest would tie down the others. Sag Muhun himself would snatch the woman and withdraw. That was the core.

With the rest all top-class first-rates, there should be no difficulty.

Kidnapping women at the front was not uncommon for the Demonic Sect; everyone would assume this was their doing.

All that remained was to wait for the target to approach.

About half a shichen later—

Rustling and low voices drifted through the brush.

They were coming.

“Bwoo-woo! Bwoo-woo! Bwoo-woo!”

Sag Muhun mimicked a mountain bird’s cry.

To strangers it was indistinguishable from the real thing, but comrades who had worked with him would hear the distinct emphasis.

Then, careful not to be detected, he and his men eased backward.

They would act when Five, Six, and Seven drew the ghasts in.

---

— There are men ambushed ahead. They’re falling back at our pace. Looks like they’ve picked a preferred kill-zone.

It was Captain Seol Pung’s sound transmission.

We glanced at Lady Cheong-yeon with pained expressions.

Outwardly she seemed composed, but anyone could guess she felt it the most.

She had already predicted this.

If an attack came at all, tonight was the likeliest.

A short while ago, she learned that men claiming to be Alliance inspectors took our squad’s information from Vice-Commander Heon Yeongbo.

If they were the raiders, they would likely strike at night—meaning tonight.

Yet even as she foresaw everything, her face had darkened and she had added a small wish:

‘Of course… I hope it’s all needless worrying.’

For her, being wrong would be the best outcome.

If raiders truly came, it would mean—just as in her hypothesis—that the Murim Alliance had indeed been killing frontline veterans. And for her personally, it would mean the Heaven-Thunder, Zhuge Jigang—whom she had long called “uncle”—had truly decided she must die.

To feel your life hunted by someone you trusted as a friend—

I knew that feeling too well; I could guess her heart.

That dirty feeling of standing alone in the world.

But this was no time to console—only to counter.

We would not let her die.

They didn’t know it yet, but the raiders had already made two grave mistakes.

They’d boldly posed as Alliance inspectors to harvest intel—and they had failed to grasp the reach of Captain Seol Pung’s senses.

They would learn soon enough:

Their “stealth” attack had failed from the start.

And they were not the hunters here.

We kept marching as if nothing was wrong.

The captain seemed intent on shadowing them until their intent was clear.

After about fifteen minutes, the captain shouted:

“Ghasts, Sayoung! Three vectors!”

Bi Sayoung shot like lightning toward the directions he indicated and yelled:

“Damn it! This junk again!”

---

“Ghasts, Sayoung! Three vectors!”

At Seol Pung’s shout, Sag Muhun—lying in ambush—was startled.

They shouldn’t have been detected at this range. How—

What followed was stranger still.

A man streaked toward the incoming ghasts with incredible footwork and flung something at them.

“Here you go!”

Ssshaa!

To Sag Muhun’s astonishment, the ghasts barreling toward them went berserk and chased only him.

“Grrrr!”

“Graaah!”

In a blink, he lured off all three packs and disappeared.

The shadow operatives who had been herding the monsters could only gape at the unexpected turn.

Cheong-yeon had anticipated that raiders might use monsters as cover.

So Bi Sayoung had prepared in advance—carrying pouches of his own blood to bait them.

But Sag Muhun and Squad Four, unaware of this, were thrown into momentary confusion.

He hesitated.

With the confusion gambit foiled, pushing through might cause casualties beyond the target.

He weighed waiting for the next chance—or pressing on—

“Aaagh!”

A sudden scream snapped him alert.

Seol Pung.

With Tiger-Claw gauntlets extended, Seol Pung had already burst in and skewered a hidden operative.

By the time Sag Muhun grasped the situation, a second man was already impaled.

Thud!

“Gyaaaah!”

Horror dawned on him.

They knew about the ambush?!

They knew they would strike?!

How?!

“Number One! Number Two! Take him!”

Sag Muhun launched like a bolt.

His aim: the woman at the very rear, the one whose bangs hid her face.

Numbers One and Two—both Pinnacle—unleashed sword-force and blade-force and crashed into Seol Pung as he massacred operatives.

“Haap!”

“Taat!”

“Hmph!”

Boom-boom-booom!

But the surprise had gained them nothing.

He parried them as if it were nothing. This would not be easy.

It had to be finished fast.

Sag Muhun vaulted over their heads and shot toward the target.

Seol Pung suddenly shouted:

“Number Three!”

Number Three?

Sag Muhun wondered even as he closed in.

He needn’t have wondered.

The instant Seol Pung called “Number Three,” Hae Cheong-yeon spun and bolted.

“!”

“Number Three” was their plan: if the enemy’s skill proved abnormal, Cheong-yeon would flee to buy time.

“I won’t lose her!”

Teeth clenched, Sag Muhun gave chase.

Clever—but perhaps easier this way.

It would take longer, but separating her from her allies might make the finish cleaner.

He thought so because he was confident: he had over seventy years of cultivation; she was only top-class first-rate. He would catch her.

But then a handsome youth—her comrade—shouted:

“Miss Na! He’s on you! Be careful!”

Miss Na?

Sag Muhun faltered.

Was the woman with the hidden face not the target?

Glancing back toward the other women, he caught one beside the youth staring at him in alarm.

The youth himself was eyeing Sag Muhun with keen suspicion.

Duped!

He realized instantly.

He looked ahead—the “target” was already far away.

“Damn!”

He sprang forward again—when a voice called from behind.

---

“Jin! After him! At least seventy years!”

Even if the captain hadn’t spoken, I was already moving. The speed of the man chasing Lady Cheong-yeon was no joke.

We had laid traps, but at that pace he might catch her before she reached them.

A Pinnacle master with seventy years’ cultivation…

If I faced him head-on, I’d be chopped to bits.

I chose my method and moved.

“Haap!”

Fwish-fwish-fwish!

I flung hidden weapons at his back.

He flicked a glance back, kicked off a trunk, and altered course, slipping outside the arc.

Tap!

As expected.

Cautious type.

He could have blocked them, but chose to evade.

A good habit—for me, convenient.

I threw again.

Fwish-fwish-fwish!

He veered off again, eyes flashing at me.

Because I kept tossing slightly toward Cheong-yeon’s line, he had to slow to avoid them.

Annoyed?

Then one more!

I kept peppering his lanes to bleed his speed.

The mosquito tactic—buzzing and pestering from the periphery.

At last he decided to swat me first.

He snapped toward me.

Azure sword-force flashed from his blade.

The charge of a Pinnacle master with seventy years of inner strength—deadly.

But it didn’t matter.

I’d been ready to bolt from the start.

“Haap!”

Pababak!

With a shout, I hurled myself away.

In footwork, our squad’s order was Captain Seol Pung and Bi Sayoung at the top, then me.

Even a Pinnacle master couldn’t easily catch me if I ran for real.

They didn’t call me the Soaring Black Wolf for nothing.

He gave me a look as if I were ridiculous and started to turn away.

He’d only meant to scare me off, not engage me.

Too bad.

I had no intention of letting him go.

So, standing still, I spoke the magic word that would hold him.

“Murim Alliance.”

He flinched and looked at me.

He tried to act calm, but once he stopped and met my eyes, he’d already failed to ignore it.

I curled my lip and added:

“Stout stomach you’ve got. An Alliance warrior doing filth like this.”

His eyes twisted.

Killing intent spilled out.

Predictable.

A leak of secrets meant wiping out witnesses.

He would wonder how much I knew—and who else knew.

Pababak!

He pounced; I sprang away.

The chase resumed.

Fwish-fwish!

Now he threw hidden weapons at me.

Roles reversed.

And as they reversed, I understood how he’d felt a moment ago.

Dodging while fleeing was no joke.

Shiiiik! Shiiiik!

Barely.

I felt steel kiss my coat as it sliced past.

And that was only the start.

My footwork was a hair better.

But the hidden weapons of a Pinnacle master with seventy years’ cultivation were threat enough to erase that margin.

Shiiiik! Shiiiik!

‘Tch!’

I’d lost count of how many times steel grazed my lapel.

The fact none had landed yet was praise-worthy by itself.

At any moment, one could punch through me.

My spine felt not just cold—frozen.

If not for sensory drills with the captain, I’d never be dodging like this.

Lately, even if not at the captain’s level, I fancied my senses sharp as any beast’s.

But fleeing a rain of hidden weapons from a Pinnacle master—every heartbeat was a knife-edge between life and death.

Shaa!

‘Ghkk!’

Dodging like this, the distance kept shrinking.

The closer he came, the more accurate the throws.

A vicious spiral.

‘Damn it!’

For a heartbeat I was tempted to halt and fight rather than be skewered running.

I clenched my teeth and kept sprinting.

Over and over I told myself:

‘A little more—just a little more. Almost there!’

At last, I reached the place I wanted.

Where we’d set traps for him.

‘There!’

Silently cheering, I darted past a tree and cut a hidden cord.

Shaa!

The taut line snapped—and dozens of arrows launched toward him in a volley.

Fwsssh-fwssh-fwssh!

“Mm?!”

Startled by the sudden downpour, he gave a small exclamation.

And that was all.

I’d built it with care, but seventy-year inner strength was no joke.

With a sweep of his sword, he batted every shaft aside.

Swoooosh!

Tatatatatatatang!

For a moment, it was as if his blade painted a blue wall in the air.

A sword-screen, as the stories said.

Truly a fearsome master.

‘But! I wasn’t hoping for more than this anyway!’

I had never expected to kill him with that trap.

All I wanted was to steal a blink of his attention.

Having cleared the arrows, he looked around—startled.

In that instant, he lost track of me.

I hid in the tree’s shadow, cloaking myself with stealth honed against demons at the front, and watched him with senses other than sight.

Then I opened the mouths of the sacks I had cached behind the trunk. From them, dozens of snakes slithered out.

They recoiled from my scent and hurried away.

The sachet I’d gotten from Dakam worked wonders.

‘Now for round two.’

Round two would be a contest of stealth.

An assassin’s duel.