Chapter 482 : We're Not in Hell

Chapter 482: We're Not in Hell

The place Myungshin arrived at after leaving the iron prison was a marketplace alley a bit away from the Golden Dragon Family.

About twenty buildings lined both sides of the street, which comprised the entire village—a resting spot for travelers between towns.

After walking down the darkened street, Myungshin arrived at a shabby tavern there.

Inside the tavern, which had closed for the day, a man who appeared to be the owner was wiping the tables with a cloth, tidying up.

The owner was an utterly ordinary man. His appearance, height, and features—nothing stood out. He looked like someone you might run into once in your life. Whether you met him as a merchant, a server, or a martial artist—it would be easy to pass him by thinking, "So what." He had no moles, scars, or distinguishing traits.

As Myungshin entered the tavern, the owner, who had been wiping the tables, spoke.

"Sorry, we’re closed."

"I’ll just eat something light and have a drink before I go."

Looking slightly troubled, the owner sized up the man. Deciding that he wasn't a martial artist, he relaxed.

"Judging by the looks of you, seems like you haven’t eaten all day. What kept you out so late?"

"I was struggling to make a living. That’s how it turned out."

The owner put down his cloth and gestured for him to come in.

"Thank you. It won’t be long."

When Myungshin sat by the window, the owner went into the kitchen and brought out some liquor and a simple dish.

"It’s cold, but it should be edible."

"Thank you."

After serving the food and drink, the owner resumed wiping the table he'd been cleaning.

Then he suddenly asked,

"Anything feel off?"

At the unexpected question, Myungshin replied,

"It was perfect."

Putting down the cloth, the owner looked at Myungshin.

"Been a while since I played a tavern keeper. When was the last time?"

"Four years ago, when you killed the Three Guests of Righteous Might."

"Ah, right."

Surprisingly, this tavern owner was none other than the current head of the Underworld and the man who would later become the King of Killing.

An extraordinary being hidden in ordinariness—one who had reached the pinnacle of disguise.

A man who could imitate a hundred lives so well that he became those lives. That was King of Killing. Today, his life was that of a tavern keeper.

King of Killing resumed wiping the tables. Like this, like that. Wondering what would look most natural—amazingly, he was studying and practicing.

"As expected, Geom Mugeuk came looking."

"How was he in person?"

"Just as I heard—he was extraordinary."

"In what way?"

Myungshin recalled the moment Geom Mugeuk strode up, grabbed his hand, and pulled the handle. He remembered those clear and profound eyes that looked straight at him.

"Confident, cheerful, and free-spirited."

"The Young Cult Leader seems to have scored high points with you."

King of Killing smiled broadly at Myungshin.

It might seem like laughter wouldn’t suit him, but King of Killing was a man of many expressions. He was equally expressive with his emotions. He could burst into tears when faced with sorrow, and he knew how to shout with the fury of someone truly enraged.

But Myungshin knew. All those emotions were practiced—manufactured.

There was only one word Myungshin could use to describe the man known as King of Killing.

Emptiness.

There was nothing inside him. No lust for killing, no filthy greed.

No, perhaps it was more accurate to say he was born with an inner void that could never be filled.

Like an icy cliff. Everything that entered his heart slid right off, falling endlessly into the darkness below, where no end could be seen.

That was why Myungshin believed this man before him would one day become the king of assassins.

Because in any situation, in any moment, he would never hesitate.

Myungshin looked around the tavern. Everywhere were setups designed for ambushes. The wooden container full of chopsticks in the corner, the worn-out hanging curtain at the kitchen entrance, the pig doll placed in front of the counter, the hole in the broken wall...

Every one of them was a device meant for killing. None of them gave off the metallic murderous energy typical of mechanical traps, so an ordinary person would never notice. And most of them had been crafted by Myungshin himself.

"Are you really going to kill the Young Cult Leader?"

In truth, there was no need to ask.

Because this tavern wasn’t the only place where preparations were underway.

Myungshin’s gaze turned to the building across the street.

He could see inside through the windows. Men were wiping blood from the walls.

As a cart arrived in front of the building, assassins began carrying corpses out and stacking them onto it.

Standing atop the building with arms crossed was Hyeolla, the rising assassin in the Underworld of late.

In thirty-nine assassinations, he had never made a single mistake. Many of the masters he had killed were renowned even by name alone.

Though technically Myungshin’s direct junior, his eyes held none of the respect due a senior.

From other buildings, corpses were being carried out as well.

In front of one such building stood a masked figure who gave a slight nod.

He wasn’t part of the Underworld.

He was Eophwa, a top-class assassin from Salcheon.

For this operation, King of Killing had even borrowed the most elite assassins from outside organizations.

From the adjacent building, two assassins could be seen conversing while looking up at a fabric shop’s signboard. Though not affiliated with any organization, they were the famed Black Shadow Twin Slayers, currently enjoying the greatest renown in recent times.

Today, this entire street had been massacred.

From now on, these top-class assassins would take their place.

It was an assassination involving dozens of assassins whose names alone were known across the world.

Such a large-scale assassination had never occurred before in the history of assassins. Regardless of the outcome, it was an act that would forever be remembered in assassin history.

“If we kill the Young Cult Leader, we’ll all die too.”

“Are you afraid of dying?”

Myungshin remained silent, simply watching the cart carrying the corpses roll away.

At that moment, King of Killing shouted.

“Wait!”

Striding out into the street, King of Killing walked straight toward the cart stacked with corpses.

With an indifferent look in his eyes, he grabbed the neck of one of the corpses. The moment he did, the corpse opened its eyes—it had not yet died. King of Killing had caught the faint sign of life even from a distant building.

Crunch.

In the quiet night, the sound of a neck snapping echoed.

Returning inside, King of Killing continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

“If we die, won’t it be nice to see the people we’ve killed until now again? Don’t you want to see them?”

After a brief pause, Myungshin answered.

“I still see them every day.”

King of Killing’s eyes glowed white. The coldness of it sent a chill down Myungshin’s spine.

“The decision is no longer in our hands. That’s what the higher-ups decided. So we kill the Young Cult Leader and get out.”

Just what were the higher-ups thinking? Myungshin spoke with concern.

“The Heavenly Demon who lost his son won’t sit still. He’ll chase us to the ends of hell.”

“We’re not in hell. We’re in this world. If we choose to hide, he’ll never find us.”

Yes, King of Killing could do that. He could even live on undetected while assuming the life of the one chasing him.

“Why me?”

Myungshin’s role was to bring the Young Cult Leader to this place.

Usually, there were assassins specialized in this kind of task—luring the target to the assassination site. Yet King of Killing had assigned the job to Myungshin.

King of Killing gave an unexpected answer.

“The Young Cult Leader reminded me of you.”

Myungshin looked back at King of Killing.

“For a demonic brat, he pretends to be a righteous sect’s disciple.”

Though the words were a rebuke, Myungshin offered no rebuttal.

An assassin, yet—

He didn’t kill children.

He didn’t kill those without martial arts.

He didn’t kill those who weren’t evil.

These had always been the conditions Myungshin set during his assassinations.

King of Killing slowly walked over and stood beside him.

“Shina.”

“!”

It was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Enough with the hypocrisy. Putting meaning into killing people for money will only make it harder for you.”

Myungshin said nothing. No—he couldn’t say anything.

“If we weren’t friends, you’d already be dead.”

Right now, he was clinging naked to King of Killing’s smooth, icy cliff. If he tried to peel himself away, his skin would be torn off.

And yet, he was the only person King of Killing had ever allowed onto that cliff.

“I’ll be on my way. It probably won’t be easy bringing him here.”

In response to Myungshin’s farewell, King of Killing began wiping the table with his cloth again.

“When is killing ever easy?”

Myungshin turned and stepped out of the tavern. The assassins stationed around naturally turned their gazes toward him.

From the building across the street, Hyeolla spoke to King of Killing.

“How much would the fee be to kill an assassin who’s grown tired of killing?”

He was talking about Myungshin. Lately, there had been rumors that Myungshin was avoiding contracts. Some even said he wanted to retire.

King of Killing paused his wiping and quietly answered,

“An assassin who no longer wants to kill—isn’t he already dead?”

At King of Killing’s words, Hyeolla burst out laughing.

And then it happened.

Whoooosh!

With a flick of King of Killing’s hand, Hyeolla, who had been standing on the rooftop across the street, was sucked toward him in an instant. It was an awe-inspiring display of power supported by overwhelming internal energy.

Even as King of Killing seized him by the throat, Hyeolla dared not resist.

“P-please, forgive me!”

Despite the pleading, King of Killing didn’t hesitate. He drew a dagger and sliced off his tongue in one clean motion.

Splat!

Blood sprayed in all directions from the severed tongue.

Hyeolla couldn’t even scream. He quickly performed self-hemostasis.

The assassins from the Underworld and those from other groups all held their breath.

On the street, Myungshin and King of Killing locked eyes.

Myungshin turned silently and walked away, while King of Killing looked around for a rag.

“Our Young Cult Leader likes drinking in shabby taverns.”

King of Killing squatted down and began wiping the blood from the floor with the rag.

“Best to send him off in a place he likes.”

*         *         *

When Geom Mugeuk returned to his residence, Geum Arin was waiting for him.

“Where have you been at this hour?”

When she heard an assassin had infiltrated Geom Mugeuk’s residence, she had rushed over—only to find he wasn’t there. She came again and again, but still didn’t find him. At last, it was this late hour when they finally met.

“I almost became the target of the highest bounty in the history of the martial world.”

Geum Arin gave him a look that said, What kind of nonsense is that? She hadn’t spent all day coming and going just to hear something this ridiculous.

“Did you get hurt fighting those assassins?”

“No. Seems they sent assassins cheaper than my bounty.”

Judging by the way he was still joking, he appeared to be fine.

“Who’s behind it?”

In response to her question, Geom Mugeuk didn’t answer honestly.

“I don’t know. I have far too many enemies.”

Geum Arin couldn’t help but wonder—what if the one who commissioned the assassination was someone from her own family? Even with all his enemies, would someone really attack him while he was within the Golden Dragon Family?

“Don’t die. You have to keep the promise you made to me, remember?”

When she reminded him of his promise to make her the successor, Geom Mugeuk suddenly asked,

“Could you kill your brothers?”

“!”

The unexpected question caught Geum Arin off guard.

“Do you think your brothers will give up the successor’s seat so easily? If they’re ready to risk their lives to keep it, I’m asking whether you could take those lives.”

To say she had never thought about it would be a lie.

But now that Geom Mugeuk was asking directly, she couldn’t give a clear answer. She couldn’t say she couldn’t. She couldn’t say she could.

After a long pause, she said,

“I don’t know.”

With her head lowered, she didn’t see the faint smile that crossed Geom Mugeuk’s lips.

Because she had answered that she didn’t know, Geom Mugeuk considered her the most decent among the three. But she didn’t know that either.

“Think about it seriously.”

It was no longer time to gaze at the stars, but to look at the ground beneath her feet.

Whether that ground would become firm soil, a filthy swamp, or a thousand-jang cliff—it would depend on her choices and her fate.

After sending her off, Geom Mugeuk stood for a while in the yard, looking up at the night sky.

Then he heard Hui’s voice from behind.

“You’ve missed your chance to leave your name in the history of the martial world.”

He was referring to the bounty conversation from earlier.

Geom Mugeuk answered with a smile.

“As much as I’m the embodiment of greed and ambition, I’d rather not be written into assassin history.”

Hui approached with a faint smile.

“The ones behind this incident are the assassins.”

Geom Mugeuk let Hui know that what had once been a suspicion had now become certainty.

It was something Hui needed to know before even his father, who was probably asleep by now.

As it was confirmed that the assailants were assassins, a fierce light flashed in Hui’s eyes before fading away.

“The threat about placing a bounty didn’t sound like a bluff. If they target someone, it’ll likely be me.”

After all, no one would dare attempt to assassinate his father.

“You asked me to tell you about assassins, didn’t you?”

There was something he had to say to Geom Mugeuk.

“What comes to mind when you think of assassins?”

Without hesitation, Geom Mugeuk replied with whatever came to mind.

“Ambush, sneak attacks, cowardice, suicide, poison, ruthless, dirty, the highest bounty in history, and a shame that I didn’t get it. Things like that.”

Hui smiled and gave his own answer to the same question.

“When I think of assassins, these are what come to mind.”

And none of them were anything Geom Mugeuk had just mentioned.

“Patience, planning, investigation, preparation, study.”

Until now, Geom Mugeuk had never once associated those words with assassins.

“It’s easy to think assassins act impulsively and emotionally, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. No one is more rational and calculated than assassins. They endure, study, and prepare. That’s how they overcome differences in skill.”

This was the key point Hui wanted to convey.

“They’ve probably already completed their entire investigation into the Young Cult Leader. His personality, what he likes, how he reacts in different situations, and what he says in those moments. What food he enjoys, who he cares about—perhaps they even know him better than he knows himself.”

Hearing those words, Geom Mugeuk thought: maybe people who don’t truly know themselves are even more easily killed by assassins.

“All of an assassin’s investigation and preparation is for one single moment.”

“What kind of moment is that?”

The moment everyone knows about, yet always forgets.

“The moment you let your guard down.”

With a sharp glint in his eyes, Hui calmly asked,

“When is the moment the Young Cult Leader is most off guard?”