Number One found himself unceremoniously dragged into a dark alley, only to see his teammates Numbers Two, Three, and Four lying unconscious, surrounded by three masked martial artists.
I didn’t sense them at all… Number One thought despairingly, his gaze fixed on the ‘woman’ who had not only ensnared him, but effortlessly neutralized an entire assassin squad.
CRACK.
The ‘woman’ began to remove her makeup and undo her intricate bone contortion, growing taller to reveal a remarkably handso man.
It was Baek Suryong. He surveyed the fallen assassins and spoke to his masked companions, “Good job, everyone. I’ll handle the rest. You guys report back to Grandfather.”
Silently, the masked figures, Ak Yeonho, Myeong Il-Oh, and Jaegal Soyeong, nodded and disappeared over the wall with a flourish of their movent arts.
“…They seem to be having fun playing assassin,” Baek Suryong muttered, clicking his tongue. He then turned back to Number One and unlocked his sealed acupoint. “You can talk now, but do try to keep the screaming to a minimum. Let’s keep this professional, okay?”
Number One remained silent, prompting Baek Suryong to chuckle at his stoicism before suddenly dislocating Number One’s shoulder with a swift motion.
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“Khh!” Number One fell to his knees, his assassin’s training the only thing preventing him from screaming.
For a while, he glared defiantly at Baek Suryong.
“…Do you think torture will make talk? Kill . You’ll get nothing from ,” he finally spat.
Baek Suryong smiled faintly. “If you really wanted to die, you could just bite your tongue. Why ask to kill you?”
“……” Number One fell silent.
Baek Suryong crouched down, a faint red gleam appearing in his clear, glassy eyes as he t Number One’s gaze. “You want to live, don’t you? I know your type. You think you understand death because you deal with it every day. But do you really?”
“……”
Seeing Number One’s continued reticence, Baek Suryong rummaged through the assassin’s clothes and confiscated his hidden weapons. He then grabbed a throwing dagger, tossed it playfully in the air, and abruptly hurled it sideways.
THUD!
The dagger embedded itself in the forehead of the unconscious Number Four, killing him instantly. Number One flinched at the sight, but Baek Suryong only looked down at him with a lazy smile.
“Seeing death often doesn’t make you immune to fear. Every ti you see the terror in a dying person’s eyes, your own fear of death deepens,” the handso young man chuckled.
Number One tried to maintain a neutral expression, but Baek Suryong’s words resonated deeply in his mind.
SWOOSH!
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Baek Suryong threw another dagger, and this ti, it struck Number Three’s heart. Blood dripping from the handle embedded in his chest, the trembling assassin quickly beca still.
Number One clenched his teeth.
“Assassins train to kill their emotions, to dull their pain, and to beco numb to murder. And so, many also think they’ve conquered their fear of death. But watch closely.”
“Stop…!”
Baek Suryong threw a thin gold needle at Number Two.
“Ugh, ugh…!” Number Two’s eyes snapped open as he writhed in agony, clutching the golden needle in his neck.
The blow wasn’t imdiately fatal. He did it deliberately, to give Number Two a slow, painful death, Number One thought, shaking uncontrollably as he watched his comrade’s life ebb away.
“Humans might get used to pain, but never to death. Everyone faces death for the first ti,” Baek Suryong whispered softly into his ear.
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“I…”
Baek Suryong tapped Number One’s chest with the hilt of his sword.
Startled, Number One fell backward and scread, “Ahhhh!”
Baek Suryong looked down at the pale, terrified Number One. “I’ll ask again. Do you want to live?”
Number One nodded without hesitation. Witnessing his comrades die had terrorized him to the core. “Yes, I want to live. I want to live!”
I want to live. I don’t want to die. If I die by his hand…even my soul won’t be saved. Tears stread down Number One’s face as he experienced true fear and a desperate will to live for the first ti.
“Please… spare . Please…” he begged.
Baek Suryong put away his sword, his gaze softening. “If you want to live, you’ll answer my questions. Which organization are you with?”
“I-I’m from the Black Forest…” Number One began, confessing everything he knew about the Black Forest—their numbers, thods, and leaders. As a squad leader, his knowledge was limited, but he gave what he could to save his life.
“You signaled each other with bird calls earlier. How does that work?”
“That’s…” Number One revealed the unique communication thods used by Black Forest assassins.
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Baek Suryong grinned. This could be useful, he thought.
A short while later, having divulged all he knew, Number One collapsed in exhaustion.
“How ruthless,” a voice suddenly said from the shadows.
Baek Suryong spun around to face the newcor.
Head Constable Cheong Cheon stepped into view and surveyed the scene, his face turning pale as he realized the grim fate that had befallen the assassins. “Were you an assassin yourself?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Given Baek Suryong’s recent violent actions, Cheong Cheon’s question seed reasonable. Baek Suryong shrugged nonchalantly, replying, “No, but I’ve taught assassins before.”
“Hah…” Cheong Cheon sighed, but restrained himself from asking more questions. Instead, he hoisted the unconscious Number One over his shoulder and asked curtly, “Should I lock him up?”
“Yes, we might need a witness later.”
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“Got it. I’ll call my n to clean up the corpses,” Cheong Cheon said. He was certainly shaken by Baek Suryong’s brutality, but the deaths of a few people didn’t bother him, especially since they were assassins. re contract killers don’t deserve my sympathy, he thought.
Turning back to Baek Suryong, who was now donning Number One’s mask and clothes, he asked, “Will you keep hunting assassins?”
“Of course. They don’t listen to reason.”
“…Didn’t you just persuade one with words?”
Baek Suryong, now disguised as a middle-aged woman, glanced back at Cheong Cheon and flashed a warm smile. “Setting that kind of atmosphere takes too long. Plus, it doesn’t work on everyone. There’s a much faster and easier way.”
“……”
“See you around.” Baek Suryong waved back casually, walking out of the alley.
Watching him disappear into the darkness, Cheong Cheon muttered to himself, “He just might be the best assassin here.”
He was genuinely relieved that Baek Suryong was not his enemy.
CRASH!
“Those Bloodletter bastards!” the Third Captain growled furiously, smashing the table in front of him with a single strike. He had just heard from his subordinate that the assassins they had sent to eliminate Gongson Su were ambushed by Bloodletter.
“So, this is how they want to play it?”
Even though the three major assassins’ guilds were all vying for Gongson Su’s head, such a blatant attack was practically a declaration of war against the Black Forest. As a self-styled professional who had always scorned Bloodletter, the Third Captain found this affront unbearable.
“Since they started this, I’ll make sure they regret it.”
He clenched his teeth and commanded all available assassins to assemble. Determined to annihilate Bloodletter and claim Gongson Su’s head, his killing intent sent frosty waves across the room as he barked orders, “Tell everyone to stand by. I’ll be there soon.”
“Yes, sir!”
anwhile, a similar scene unfolded at Bloodletter’s Nanchang branch.
“Those Black Forest bastards have lost their minds! How dare they attack our n!” The branch chief, a burly man adorned with scars and tattoos who typically ran an underground gambling den, bellowed as he processed the news.
“Call in all our n! We’re going to slaughter them!” he roared, seizing a massive axe from the wall. “I’ll split their arrogant faces in…”
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BOOM!
At that mont, an explosion rocked the entrance on the ground floor, and sothing heavy crashed to the ground—it was the gatekeeper, bloodied and unconscious.
“An attack!”
“It’s the enemy!”
About fifty freelancers in the gambling den instantly ard themselves. The branch chief, exuding confidence, yelled toward the stairs, “Do you know where you are? Show yourself if you dare, fucking son of a bitch!”
Slowly, soone began descending the stairs, each step deliberate and precise.
“You…” the branch chief gasped.
A venerable old man with snow-white hair and beard, dressed in a deep green robe, surveyed the gambling den with an upright posture and hands clasped behind his back. Calmly, he inquired, “So, are you the butcher gang known as Bloodletter?”
“Shit… Who the hell are you, you damn geezer?” the branch chief shouted, raising his axe, though sweat beaded on his forehead. A master. He’s a master…
The old man clicked his tongue in disdain. “Tsk. Judging by the killing intent in your eyes, you must be the ones.”
“To hell with this… Attack!”
“YAAAAAH!” With a loud war cry, the Bloodletter freelancers charged forward.
Sword Addict Mae Geuklyom slowly drew his sword.
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