CH 17
‘Looks like quite the crowd has gathered.’
Jang Yi-seo, who had entered the market street after passing through Wolgwangho.
Spies and assassins are separated by only a sheet of paper. Even if they’d sneaked into the village, it would’ve been only a matter of time before he noticed them.
But…….
‘Barging in openly in broad daylight?’
Expecting victory like this was beyond audacious.
“There!”
They even shouted “Here I am!” at the top of their lungs while stomping their heels relentlessly—practically announcing their numbers like helpful idiots.
“No fundamentals. None. We never pulled this crap in my day.”
Jang Yi-seo shook his head disapprovingly before calmly entering the two-story building.
A narrow passage with stairs beside it.
He climbed at an unhurried pace, neither fast nor slow. Then he dropped something on the floor and entered a room at the far end, slamming the door shut.
“Here!”
Five or six assassins promptly stampeded up the stairs in formation.
Kwaaaaang—!
A deafening explosion shook the floor as smoke billowed out. People screamed and scrambled outside in panic.
The door to Jang Yi-seo’s room swung open, revealing a middle-aged man instead of an old one.
He stepped over the groaning, blood-soaked assassins without a glance.
“Heaven-Shaking Thunder……?! The old man hasn’t shown himself yet! Tear this place apart!”
More assassins surged upstairs.
But they would never find the old man.
Why?
Slaughterhouse. You brought this on yourselves.
Their target wasn’t some ordinary elder—he was a master of disguise.
The Dark Edge’s greatest operative operative. Jang Yi-seo.
Kwaaaaang!
Another thunderous explosion rocked the floor.
Kwaang! Ugh! Chwaaaak!
“What the hell is happening?!”
At the market’s deepest alley stood a vine-covered house—the Black Dragon Faction’s headquarters. Everyone inside lay flat, trembling at the cacophony outside.
“B-brother! The Martial Alliance and Slaughterhouse are definitely clashing!”
“Dumbass! Since when does the Martial Alliance attack these days? Even if they did, they’d target the Heavenly Demon War, not Wolha Village! Why here?!”
“Are they… here for us?”
What?
“You ever killed a righteous sect member?”
“I’ve never left the main sect since birth!”
“Then shut your trap! What’s this about? Damn lunacy!”
Yong-tae slammed his fist against the floor while prone.
He’d hidden here immediately after spotting Slaughterhouse agents. The escalating noise suggested full-blown warfare.
Then…….
Thud!
“Hiiik!”
“Uoooh!”
Someone pounded violently on the door.
“B-brother! Shouldn’t we check?”
“Quiet, brat! No response means they’ll leave! Basic rice cake seller etiquette!”
“Ah.”
“We replaced the door yesterday with blackwood. Sturdy stuff. Just wait.”
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The door held firm, barely shaking.
Silence eventually fell.
“Ha… they’re gone. Definitely gone.”
“Brother! The rice cake seller theory worked!”
Yong-tae and Maegi grinned—until…….
Kwaang!
The door exploded inward, a bloodied Slaughterhouse assassin tumbling through.
“Kid… you order takeout?”
“I wish…”
Then…….
A man stood framed by carnage—assassins strewn like broken dolls in the alley behind him.
“If you’re free… maybe call reinforcements.”
The Seventh Prince’s aide. Jang Yi-seo.
He stood there.
– Wolha Village, Chilso Palace.
Click. Click.
A man with a braided queue sat cross-legged, clacking three round pebbles.
Mak-gwi.
Sixth-ranked Slaughterhouse executive—youngest of the leadership.
But his icy gaze and aura made “youngest” laughable.
Unlike common assassins, Mak-gwi was a nationally renowned master—a fact Mao noted while watching from afar.
‘Bastard… trained in martial arts?’
No visible weapons, yet his eyes chilled deeper than any blade.
A man who crushed lives like ants.
His towering frame matched Mao’s, torn sleeves exposing corded muscle.
No ordinary foe.
But letting him loiter forever wasn’t an option.
“Hey. How long you planning to squat here? Deliver your message already.”
“…….”
“What? Gonna act up if I stare?”
Click. Click. Mak-gwi finally spoke lowly, still fiddling with pebbles.
The Seventh Prince, Mao.
The moment when that young man became a reliable ally and soared.
“Jang I-seo. I truly hope you don’t disappoint me.”
Sahaeryeong’s sincere encouragement echoed through Samsogung.
*
– Wolha Village, Chilsogung.
“Disappear.”
Two syllables spat from Mao’s lips.
“Kreeeeaaaaah—!”
A birdlike shriek erupted simultaneously from Makgui’s throat. Whooom! Soundwaves exploded outward with violent force.
An invisible weapon! Upon reaching the ears, it destroyed the inner ear—a lethal strike disguised as mere noise.
Indeed.
The signature technique of Makgui, the braided assassin, was not martial arts but yin gong: sound-channeled internal energy that scrambled the mind of even peak masters.
His sculpted muscles and revealing attire? All decoys to lower his foes’ guard.
This was why Narak had warned that any duel with Makgui striking first would last over ten rounds.
And his subordinates? Their ears were already plugged—proof of this ruthless ambush.
“Ghk.”
Predictably, Mao—closest to the attack—collapsed first. His ears rang, the world spun.
Thud.
He crashed to his knees.
Only his ocean-deep internal energy kept him conscious. Anyone else would have hemorrhaged and fainted instantly.
‘No…!’
But staying awake changed nothing.
With hollow eyes, Mao could only watch Jang I-seo—soon to be the assassins’ prey—until…
“Order. Received.”
Jang I-seo raised his right hand calmly, as though brushing off a fly.
Then—
『White Thunder』
Kzzzt! A pale lightning bolt shredded the soundwaves and split the battlefield.
“Kyaaaa—!”
Thwack!
The dagger pierced Makgui’s screaming mouth and exited through his skull.
One strike.
Thud.
The sixth-ranked assassin of the Slaughter Chamber fell backward, eyes wide. Dead before he hit the ground.
“W-What?!”
Assassins stared as if beholding a monster.
Too late. Everything unfolded in a breath.
Fwing! Jang I-seo snatched an arrow from the air with his left hand, spun, and hurled it back.
Thunk!
The rooftop archer dropped with a hole through his forehead.
White dagger gleaming, Jang I-seo blurred forward. Five assassins lunging from both sides met his blade—insteps, ribs, throats, chests—all punctured in a flash.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Bodies crumpled around the motionless Jang I-seo.
Most astonishing? Not one managed a proper scream. Even Mao forgot to breathe.
Why? Too fast. Too sudden. Like being struck by lightning itself.
“You… you…”
The crisis ended as abruptly as it began.
Still kneeling, Mao stammered incoherently.
Step. Step.
He watched Jang I-seo approach.
This man—a mere 7th-grade ghost? A glory-seeking upstart?
The same braggart who’d vowed to drag Mao to the top?
“What… are you?”
Mao’s eyes trembled uncontrollably.
As Jang I-seo loomed close, a radiant halo blazed behind him—so brilliant it hurt to behold.
He smirked.
“Your advisor. Jang I-seo.”
…What?
“I’ll keep my promise.”
…Promise?
“The Little Sect Leader. I’ll make it reality for you.”
Ah—
A hand extended. Mao stared, transfixed.
Neither large nor small. Utterly ordinary. Yet inexplicably… he ached to grasp it.
“Let’s ascend together.”
Jang I-seo’s smile shone brighter than the halo.
“…Jang I-seo.”
For the first time, Mao spoke his name properly.
Snap.
Their hands clasped.
A bond beyond words reflected in their eyes..
“Prepare yourself if you wish to keep up.”
“You should prepare to hold on tight. Even the Sect Leader gave up on me.”
“Show-off.”
They chuckled in unison.
Jang I-seo: Amgak’s top agent, Murim Alliance spy.
Mao: Demon Sect’s most infamous Seventh Prince.
Two who should never have collided. Two who now shared a single path.
Destination: Little Sect Leader.
Deadline: Until achievement.
The advisory begins.
#JustTheTwoOfUsForNow (1)
