The Soul-Crushing Elder
The assassin who had barely escaped Tang Mujin's pursuit made his way back to Salmak's main base.
Before long, he stood before Heukmyo, Salmak's second-in-command.
Since the matter concerned the eccentric physician, the report ought to have gone to Heukjeop, the leader himself. But Heukjeop had been absent for some time.
The assassin bowed low and spoke.
"There's a high probability that it truly was the eccentric."
Heukmyo's eyes narrowed. No matter how high a probability, it always carried room for doubt.
"Probability?"
"Yes. As I was only in reconnaissance, I didn't see his face directly. But judging by the events of the mission, the target seems highly likely to have been the eccentric."
"Explain in detail."
At her command, the assassin collected his thoughts and continued.
"There were three of us. Two are dead—one who approached to confirm the eccentric's face, and another scout."
"Did you witness the eccentric's martial arts in the process of their deaths?"
"No."
"Then?"
"The eccentric did not fight himself, but two of his companions reacted instantly. One was at least peak expert level, the other at least first-rate. Both used unusual martial arts."
"How unusual?" Heukmyo asked, half out of necessity, half curiosity.
The martial world was full of strange people and stranger arts, but few martial artists trained in skills as peculiar and distinctive as assassins did. If an assassin called something unusual, it was no small thing.
"The one presumed to be at peak level moved with extreme stealth, and his attacks were domineering. I wondered if they had enlisted a dark-path master."
Disappointing. Heukmyo suspected the man was padding his report to excuse failure. There was still no solid basis to conclude the target was the eccentric.
"Don't jump to conclusions. Many orthodox martial artists practice stealthy footwork."
"It went beyond stealth. It was as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His steps melted into shadow. And he never even drew his own weapon—he effortlessly seized his enemy's blade and struck with it."
"Hm."
There were many shadow-like movement techniques, but all shared a trait: they could not be performed through skill alone.
And orthodox martial artists rarely fought with stolen weapons. To them, the single sword at their waist was a matter of pride.
"What proof do you have that the eccentric was present?"
"The second companion. A young man, perhaps only just past twenty, but he skillfully wielded poison arts."
"Poison?"
"Yes. He hurled poison-tipped needles at me. Had one of the antidotes I swallowed in panic not worked, I'd have been captured and killed."
He presented a slender needle. It was sturdy, delicate, and faintly glistened blue with venom at its center.
Poison-users were rare across the Central Plains. The orthodox despised it, and even the dark paths seldom practiced it, finding its precision burdensome. Obtaining potent yet manageable toxins was no easy feat.
Thus, those who did use poison arts generally belonged to three groups: certain demon cultists, assassins, or the eccentric physician, Lee Chung.
Occasionally, minor families or sects dabbled in poison, but their achievements were so poor they weren't worth noting.
So for someone so young to wield effective poison, he was almost certainly the eccentric's disciple. Who knew when the eccentric had begun taking students?
'If that's the case, then the eccentric was indeed among them. After the last ambush, he must have gone underground, gathered followers, and returned to the open.'
That troubled Heukmyo. The eccentric had once wandered alone. If he now moved with a band, it meant he was preparing for another clash with Salmak.
And with Salmak's current strength, their chances against an eccentric who might have already stepped into the transcendent realm were slim. Even if they eked out a win through attrition, the losses would be devastating.
A dull pain throbbed in her temple. How should she report this to Heukjeop later?
She waved her pale, slender hand at the assassin.
"Keep tracking the eccentric's movements, but do not provoke him recklessly."
"Yes."
The assassin backed away, and Heukmyo sat in thought. No clear solution appeared.
But soon, someone unexpected arrived.
An elderly man, bald from lost white hair, his face blotched with age spots, his body frail and gaunt.
Yet in power and position, he was not one Heukmyo could treat lightly. For he was the Demon Cult's Outer General—the Soul-Crushing Elder (Swae-Hon No-Ong).
The Demon Cult held no ties with the orthodox sects. To be precise, it was the orthodox who refused ties. The most exclusive faction in the martial world was not the dark path, nor the demon cult, but the orthodox.
The dark path, meanwhile, had decent relations with the cult, though their organizations lacked unity.
Thus, whenever the Demon Cult sought to reach into the Central Plains, they most often contacted Salmak.
And whenever that happened, the envoy was always the Outer General, the Soul-Crushing Elder.
He asked, "What's this? Where's Heukjeop?"
Heukmyo lowered her posture. "He is away on personal business. What brings you here?"
"I had a commission for him. But if he's absent, I've come in vain."
"No, you can tell me."
"Oh? Ambitious, aren't you? Tired of being second, is that it?" the elder chuckled, making a jest at rebellion.
Unshaken, Heukmyo calmly replied, "Not at all. I have only been entrusted with duties in his stead."
"That's how it starts for everyone… Well, never mind. It isn't a complex request. Just fetch me a capable physician."
"May I ask why?"
"The Demon Doctor went out—and died."
"…What?"
Heukmyo blinked, startled.
The elder, displeased at repeating grim news, spoke lower.
"So it wasn't known in the Central Plains, eh? The Demon Doctor died last winter. There's mountains of work left undone, and his disciples are useless. I meant to take in a divine physician instead—but that one died before the Demon Doctor did."
"Yes. I heard rumors of that last autumn…"
Heukmyo gathered her thoughts. That meant among the Three Great Physicians under Heaven, only the eccentric remained.
So much now rested on the eccentric's life; if he died, medical knowledge in the Central Plains would regress terribly.
But across all of Salmak, no one cared about such things.
Heukmyo's feelings were simple—if the commission fee was higher, then it was worth caring.
The Soul-Crushing Elder cut into her musings.
"Anyway, if you can find a decent physician, bring one. It would be best if they had knowledge of poison as well."
"You mean… the eccentric?"
"No. Not him. That man listens to no one, so even if we brought him in, he'd be useless."
No one alive surpassed the eccentric in both medicine and poison. But his nature was like a mule—unyielding. He had no family or sect that could be used as leverage, so forcing his cooperation was impossible.
"I understand. I'll look for someone suitable."
"You'll be paid more than usual. Once the job is done, I'll return with the money, so take care."
At that moment, a thought struck Heukmyo. She had already been worried that the eccentric might strike at Salmak.
If they borrowed the Demon Cult's strength to kill the eccentric, and then handed his disciple over to them, it would be perfect.
The assassination fee for eliminating the eccentric, plus extra profit, plus removing the crisis with someone else's strength—three birds with one stone.
So she said, "Even if the price is lowered, would it be possible to borrow the Demon Cult's martial strength when needed?"
"Trade manpower for silver? Fine by us. How much?"
"Perhaps just a few peak-level experts."
"Good. That's no problem."
The Demon Cult had plenty of powerful fighters; they simply lacked enough lucrative chances to send them.
Their interests aligned, and the two parted with satisfaction.
***
Meanwhile, as Tang Mujin and his group traveled eastward, a troubling thought came to him.
"If the problem is that Salmak mistook Chusam for the eccentric, wouldn't it be enough just to prove to them that he isn't?"
When he voiced this to the others, each reacted differently.
Chusam tensed, Dan Seol-yeong looked indifferent, while Namgung Myeong was skeptical.
"Think it through. Those assassins knew he wasn't the eccentric—and still tried to kill him."
"Huh? Didn't they attack because they thought he was the eccentric elder?"
"Not a chance. If they really believed he was, they wouldn't have sent wet-behind-the-ears first-rate killers. They'd have brought at least a peak master. The very fact that mere first-rates were sent proves they were certain he wasn't."
The reasoning was sound, though his phrasing grated. No doubt intentionally.
Tang Mujin snorted and repaid the insult in the simplest way—by lengthening his stride, pressing eastward with vigor.
Namgung Myeong's expression grew visibly uneasy. Like a worm writhing when sprinkled with salt, his energy weakened the closer they drew to the Namgung Clan's territory.
"…Hey, Mujin. Just how far east are we going?"
"Anhui Province seems best, don't you think? Bustling, prosperous. And with the Namgung Clan right there, assassins won't dare rampage."
Chusam and Dan Seol-yeong thought it sounded like a fine idea. But Namgung Myeong's face grew grim.
"Let's not go as far as Anhui. Jiangxi should do."
"Well, we'll see. Personally, I like Anhui. Especially the Huangshan region."
Their choices were two: vanish into lonely fields, or slip into a crowded city.
Tang Mujin chose the city.
Yes, assassins could blend into crowds—but crowds also restrained their actions.
If they found lodging in a busy city and stayed inside, with Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong keeping watch, they would be far safer. There might be assassins stronger than them somewhere, but few could hide their presence completely.
Better yet, they could take refuge as guest retainers of a martial sect. With Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong's martial arts, plus Dan Seol-yeong's skill with her hands, many sects would be eager to host them. And of course, the safest place of all was within the Namgung Clan itself.
Finally, Namgung Myeong stepped in front of Tang Mujin.
"Anhui is absolutely off limits."
Even without stepping inside the clan's walls, Namgung Myeong was famous enough in the Huangshan area that someone would recognize him. Once his face was known, his carefree life would be over.
"Hm… Then what about Jiujiang?" Tang Mujin offered a compromise. The city lay on Anhui's border but wasn't part of it.
"Jiujiang? That works. I've never been, but I've always wanted to."
Relief softened Namgung Myeong's face.
But he hadn't guessed Tang Mujin's true intent—if something unbearable happened, then no matter how much Namgung protested, Tang Mujin would march straight into Anhui and the Namgung Clan.
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://payhip.com/pokemon1920
USE DISCOUNT COUPON : flat25
OR ON PATERON : patreon.com/Pokemon707