Chapter 840

Thud. I brushed my body off here and there.

The pain still lingered in my body.

Normally, it wouldn’t hurt this much. But this time, the backlash was severe.

“Ugh.”

Groaning, I endured the repercussions.

My bones still ached, and my muscles were screaming.

“Ah, damn it.”

This was a mistake. I thought I’d give it a try, and now I deeply regretted it.

“Imitating someone else’s body is too much, isn’t it?”

It seemed that while I could modify my own framework, completely transforming into a different one was beyond my limits.

I had to change not only my height but also wrinkles and physical traits. Maintaining that required an enormous amount of energy.

If I’d been even a little slower, the Qi Transformation Technique might have unraveled.

No, it definitely would have unraveled.

“…Haaah….”

I let out a sigh and wiped off my sweat.

I thought my proficiency had improved, but trying something like this ended up like this. Was this level still beyond my reach?

It was disappointing, but at least there was one consolation.

‘…The keyword is “still.”’

I couldn’t use it yet. But doesn’t that mean I might be able to use it easily someday?

It was a glimmer of hope.

Crack—! I adjusted my shoulders, aligning the parts that hadn’t returned properly.

This also meant the disguise I’d just created was of extremely poor quality.

Very poor.

‘If it had lasted any longer, I wouldn’t just have been exposed—it likely would’ve come undone.’

Given how hastily it was crafted, Ilcheon Sword must have noticed.

He’s sharper than I expected.

‘He said he noticed as soon as he arrived.’

He immediately detected the anomaly spreading through the forest.

That alone showed how perceptive he was.

And it made sense—after all, the one who had tampered with this forest was none other than the Shadow King.

“…You can come out now.”

“Yes.”

The response came from right beside me. I didn’t even need to look to know it was the Shadow King.

“Thanks to you, it went well. Thank you.”

“It was nothing.”

As always, the Shadow King dismissed it as no big deal. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to pull off this stunt in the first place.

As I mentioned earlier, disguising myself as another person was a poorly executed endeavor.

Even if I managed to make it similar, the details were off.

The number of wrinkles, the subtle tilt of the eyes, even the curves of the body.

Nothing could be perfectly replicated, and for those accustomed to constantly observing their opponent's bodies, it was enough to create a sense of unease.

So, what should I do?

Wouldn’t it be better to choose a different method?

I pondered this but, fortunately, a solution existed.

The method was simple.

If the disguise was so flawed it could be easily noticed, then I just had to ensure it couldn’t be noticed.

‘Of course, that doesn’t mean using a mask or something like that.’

Instead of hiding my face, I chose to obscure Ilcheon Sword’s vision.

Not his literal eyes, but….

‘Blur his senses.’

I dulled the clarity of his senses so he couldn’t perceive things properly.

That was the goal.

There were many ways to achieve this.

Using formations, spreading pressure to suppress his perception, or even poisoning him.

There were countless options, but none of them were available to me.

I didn’t know how to use formations properly. Spreading pressure would immediately alert Ilcheon Sword.

Poisoning him wouldn’t be any different.

So, what options did I have left? The answer was simple.

‘If I can’t do it, I’ll ask someone who can.’

Rather than risk detection by trying it myself, I asked someone who wouldn’t be noticed.

Luckily, I had an expert in this field by my side.

I immediately asked the Shadow King.

When I requested him to subtly dull Ilcheon Sword’s perception without drawing attention, the Shadow King executed it without hesitation.

At first, he seemed to be doing something around the mountain, but I couldn’t discern the specifics.

The important thing was this:

‘Whatever he did, Ilcheon Sword couldn’t maintain his composure.’

From the moment he stepped into the mountain, his perception began to dull, little by little, without him realizing it.

‘I was a bit worried when he said he noticed something.’

He mentioned sensing something odd, but fortunately, he didn’t seem to grasp the full extent.

‘Thanks to that, everything went smoothly.’

With his perception dulled, Ilcheon Sword couldn’t properly identify my poor disguise.

This also helped cover up my lackluster acting skills.

‘And now I know I can’t use this trick twice.’

It was clear this method couldn’t be reused anytime soon.

‘Not bad.’

I tried it, and it didn’t fail.

On top of that, I gained valuable insight, so it wasn’t a bad outcome at all.

However, one concern remained.

‘Did he believe everything? That’s the question… but it should be fine.’

Even if he didn’t believe it, as long as he reacted accordingly, that was enough.

The important thing was that Ilcheon Sword must have been sufficiently shaken.

I recalled the flicker of doubt in Ilcheon Sword’s eyes moments earlier.

‘How far will you fall?’

He thought himself flying high, but it was laughable to even say he’d been up there in the first place.

The real question was, how far would Ilcheon Sword plummet? Would he crash into the ground and die?

‘Or….’

Would he realize he’d never been flying to begin with and choose to self-destruct?

Either way, the outcome wouldn’t change.

******************

It was a little early for dawn to arrive,

but the night had already fallen, and lanterns illuminated the grounds.

Rustle.

I sat inside the room, examining two letters as though comparing them.

“…The east is the same… and the directions they identified are similar….”

I scrutinized them carefully, checking for differences or similarities.

The letters were none other than mission reports, sent by those assigned to reconnaissance and intelligence gathering.

The difference between them was that one was from the deployed team, while the other came from self-directed operatives.

Since the mission began, I’d been receiving reports in this manner.

“Hmmm….”

As I reviewed the contents, I frowned in discomfort.

‘The information is too similar.’

The reason was that the reports from both sides overlapped significantly.

“This means they’ve probably caught on.”

I chuckled softly and folded the letters.

On the surface, overlapping information might seem like a good thing, but from my perspective, it raised a lot of questions.

I had taken steps to ensure the information wouldn’t overlap in the first place.

The reason for that was simple:

‘It’s easier to obscure the truth this way.’

Most of the information sent by the Alliance was false—more than half of it, to be precise.

That wasn’t surprising. I had set it up that way.

It was the most effective method to weed out those who couldn’t keep up.

The incompetent ones always revealed themselves.

But now…

‘The information being so similar at this point means one of two things.’

First, they felt it was too dangerous and decided to step back. Or…

‘They’ve realized it late.’

If they’d figured out that I’d assigned multiple people to gather information,

it could only be one of these two scenarios.

‘Hmm.’

I didn’t really need to take further action since I’d already filtered out the ones to be discarded.

But one thing bothered me.

‘How did they find out?’

How exactly did they figure it out? That part gnawed at me.

The fact that multiple people had been assigned to gather information was something only I knew.

I’d even tied up loose ends to prevent them from questioning one another.

For them to have noticed under these circumstances…

‘Did someone leak it?’

The thought crossed my mind that someone might have intentionally let the information slip.

And if someone had leaked it…

“Was it you?”

I turned to the most suspicious person without hesitation.

“…What?”

The man looked startled. The man in question was none other than Mun Do-hyuk.

“Did you talk about these letters to anyone?”

“N-no…!”

Mun Do-hyuk jumped in shock at my words.

“No?”

“I swear! I don’t know anything about the reports!”

“Hmmm….”

Rustle.

I waved the letter in my hand like a fan, watching Mun Do-hyuk. He stiffened under my gaze and lowered his head to the ground.

The tension he radiated was palpable.

“Whether you did or didn’t, it doesn’t matter. I was just asking.”

As I said before, it was too late now.

I’d already identified everyone worth investigating.

And that included him.

Which is why it was even stranger.

“You’re quite the enigma.”

“Pardon…?”

“Why did you betray them?”

“…”

Why had this man come to my side?

No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t understand.

“…As I mentioned before….”

“No, it’s genuinely baffling.”

I’d heard his reasons, but they didn’t make sense.

“Because they didn’t remember your name? Even you must find that reason flimsy.”

“…”

The reason Mun Do-hyuk gave for betraying Ilcheon Sword and coming to me was laughable:

He claimed it was because Ilcheon Sword didn’t remember his name.

‘What the hell is that?’

It was absurd.

To betray someone over something as trivial as a forgotten name?

Ah, maybe it didn’t matter since he was a spy all along. But even then, betraying the Azure Dragon Division to join me was odd.

After all, from an outsider’s perspective, my side was clearly at a disadvantage.

At that moment…

“…I…”

Mun Do-hyuk began to speak cautiously.

“…I’ve been with the Azure Dragon Division for years.”

“I know.”

Four years, wasn’t it?

Not a long time, but not a short one, either.

“I was nothing more than a grunt, but I did my duty and worked hard. And yet….”

“And yet Ilcheon Sword didn’t remember your name?”

“…Yes.”

I couldn’t even muster a laugh.

What kind of pathetic complaint was this?

He probably wasn’t saying this to ask for anything, but there was only one thing I could say.

“That’s because you were too useless to bother remembering.”

“…”

Mun Do-hyuk’s head drooped even lower at my words.

For an older man to look so pitiful… it was almost sad.

“Just look at yourself. The fact that you came over to my side over something so trivial only proves you’re not trustworthy.”

Coming to me just because of a forgotten name?

That was a laughable reason for betrayal.

Did he think I’d be pleased he defected to my side?

Sure, I’d use him if I could. But as a person, I found him detestable.

Perhaps my distaste showed on my face because Mun Do-hyuk glanced at me and hurriedly added,

“Th-that’s not the only reason.”

“Oh? Then what is it?”

“…I-I can’t be certain, but….”

He hesitated, his lips trembling as though unsure whether to speak. Finally, he managed to say,

“…I had a feeling that it would be better to join you.”

“Me? Over Ilcheon Sword?”

“Yes….”

“And what’s that feeling based on?”

“…I’m sorry. It was just a hunch.”

Hearing this, I tilted my head slightly.

So, it was a mix of his name being forgotten and a vague feeling that brought him to my side.

‘Hmm.’

Maybe his intuition wasn’t as dull as I thought.

The idea crossed my mind for a brief moment.