Myeongsin was swinging his dagger in a state of selfless trance.
Sparks flew from the dagger clashing against the Killing King’s.
A battle between the foremost and second foremost of Myeongbu.
It was a fight where a single moment’s mistake would lead to death.
The colliding daggers were so fast they could not be seen.
He had lightly crossed blades with the Killing King before, but this was his first true battle of life and death.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Their daggers stabbed at each other in rapid succession.
Footwork as swift as the attacks moved in a dazzling display, and with a lightness technique executed through extreme concentration, they shifted their upper bodies to evade the incoming blades.
The daggers struck one another with clear ringing sounds, and at times with the scraping screech of metal against metal.
‘He’s strong!’
Before his mind or instincts, Myeongsin’s hands could feel it. The weighty force transmitted through the Killing King’s attacks still had room to spare. He, on the other hand, was pouring out everything he had.
The reason he could fight on equal footing despite that difference in skill was momentum.
Myeongsin had resolved to stake life and death on this. His willingness to face death was barely making up for the gap in their abilities.
And just like that, over a hundred exchanges passed in an instant.
Clang!
With one great clash, the two men retreated backward.
They were standing on the roof of the building across from the tavern.
Myeongsin’s breathing was ragged, but the Killing King remained calm. This was exactly the gap in skill that existed between them.
‘Still, it’s fine.’
Because he had resolved himself to die, Myeongsin was not afraid.
Whenever he went out on an assassination mission, he would always imagine the moment it failed and he died.
Then, naturally, this scene would come to mind.
Martial artists rummaging through his corpse, trying to determine where this assassin had come from.
No one buried an assassin’s corpse, so they would toss it out into a field. Then wolves would come prowling and tear into the body.
Myeongsin had always thought that was an assassin’s end.
But dying while fighting the Killing King?
‘That’s a fairly decent death.’
At that moment, the Killing King was looking at the tavern across the way. Through the window, glimpses of the battle inside could be seen.
“The Young Cult Leader won’t make it out of there alive.”
Myeongsin spoke calmly.
“The Young Cult Leader will come out alive.”
Myeongsin, who had always spoken respectfully, now spoke down to him, but the Killing King did not care.
“If so, it means every device you made has become useless.”
Myeongsin knew that was why he had drawn him outside.
“I’m grateful that you trust me, but.”
There were three reasons he had come outside despite knowing that. First of all.
“They won’t work. Not on that Young Cult Leader.”
He believed in Geom Mugeuk.
The Geom Mugeuk he had seen in the records, and the Geom Mugeuk he had seen with his own eyes. This was the conclusion reached by combining the two.
Only a few days had passed since he met him, but Geom Mugeuk had influenced him more than anyone he had ever seen.
To the point that Myeongsin felt he ought to rewrite the report on him himself. Of course, there would be no chance for that now.
Another reason was that if he remained in the tavern, the Killing King would remain as well.
Then the fight would become that much more difficult. Better for him to stall the Killing King while hoping Geom Mugeuk would finish them off and come out. It was a choice that could not be made without faith in Geom Mugeuk.
And the final reason was that he wanted to kill the Killing King with his own hands.
Even knowing it would not be easy, he had a burning desire to bring this grudge to an end himself.
It was right then.
Swish!
Myeongsin dodged a hidden weapon that flew at him from behind. It was not meant to kill him, but to make him look that way.
Before he knew it, a man was standing on the roof of the building to the side. It was Hyeolla, the one who had mocked Myeongsin earlier and had his tongue cut out by the Killing King.
Hyeolla pleaded with the Killing King through his expression and gaze. Leave that Myeongsin to me.
The hatred in his eyes showed that he believed his tongue had been cut out because of Myeongsin.
The Killing King looked back and forth between Myeongsin and Hyeolla once, then nodded his permission.
By nature, he would normally have provoked Myeongsin with every manner of ridicule, but now he could not say a single word.
Hyeolla swung his sword and charged at Myeongsin.
Myeongsin also did not evade; he swung his dagger and met him head-on.
Assassins were those who killed their targets after preparation and planning. Thus, when the opponent’s guard reached its lowest point, they were supposed to simply stab them effortlessly and leave. That was why there were things they must never do.
An assassin must not use footwork.
An assassin must not use martial arts.
Because having to use them meant the preparations for the assassination had been insufficient.
One used footwork and martial arts only when an assassination failed.
That was why, now that they were openly fighting, it was less a battle as assassins and more a battle as martial artists.
It was truly a fight of fundamentals. A contest of martial arts, hidden weapon techniques, and lightness skills.
Shiiing!
The incoming sword brushed past Myeongsin’s face.
Even as the blade grazed his face and he felt its cold chill, Myeongsin charged forward, thrusting his dagger.
Hyeolla twisted his body to avoid the dagger, and the sword he thrust out twisted along with him.
The sword that had passed beside Myeongsin’s face changed direction and tried to cut into it, but Myeongsin had already lowered his body and was stabbing toward Hyeolla’s stomach.
Clang, clang, clang!
Hyeolla’s sword changed direction again and blocked the attack.
As befitted assassins representing Myeongbu, their battle was extraordinary.
Their movements were like the wind, and when they attacked, they were as fierce as wild beasts.
Short, clipped sounds of metal rang out continuously.
But gradually, the sword began to be pushed back by the dagger.
He had been more successful as an assassin lately, so he had been confident he could defeat Myeongsin.
Unfortunately for him, this fight was not a battle as assassins, but as martial artists, and he was being outmatched in fundamentals.
‘Damn it! I’ll never lose to you!’
But Hyeolla was being pushed back more and more, and his hands and feet began to grow disordered.
Thud!
Blood spurted from Hyeolla’s shoulder.
Hyeolla had considered himself the true second-in-command.
But between the two of them, there was a gap in skill greater than his severed tongue.
Hyeolla tried to unleash his trump card, but Myeongsin did not miss the fleeting opening that appeared when one used a major technique.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Myeongsin’s dagger swiftly stabbed Hyeolla’s chest again and again.
“Kueeek.”
Hyeolla vomited a gush of blood.
His gaze turned toward the Killing King. His eyes held resentment, asking why he was not helping him, but even if the Killing King wanted to help, he could not.
From the time he had been fighting Myeongsin, he had sensed Hwi’s presence. The moment he showed an opening, Hwi would not miss it and would launch a fatal attack.
The Demonic Cult Leader’s guard.
The reason he had wanted to kill Myeongsin earlier but could not was also because of Hwi.
If I rashly try to kill him, I’ll die too.
Because his opponent was undoubtedly an expert capable of turning this instinctive sense of danger into reality.
It was then.
Papapapapapak!
Holes were riddled through the wall of the tavern across the way. He could tell that the Gwisantan had exploded.
A thick smell of blood wafted from the holes. He could tell that a fierce battle was continuing inside as well.
Myeongsin caught his breath before Hyeolla’s corpse. He knew too. He knew why the Killing King had not intervened in his fight with Hyeolla. He could feel Hwi protecting him.
That was why, in this moment, he could not help but think of Geom Mugeuk.
‘You really are something!’
It had not merely been words when he said they should be friends, nor merely words when he said he would spare him.
The Killing King looked silently at the tavern, then abruptly spoke.
“The target of your revenge should be the one who commissioned the job, not me.”
“That’s true.”
Myeongsin readily admitted it.
“Then why?”
Myeongsin knew what words had been omitted after the Killing King’s question.
Why did you betray me?
Myeongsin knew that the Killing King was genuinely wondering that.
That was why he did not get angry. Because that was the kind of person the Killing King was.
I spared him and even raised him as an assassin, so why is he not grateful and instead betrays me?
He was the sort of person who would have such a question. He could not understand the many complicated yet broad emotions of human beings.
“Then why did you kill your father?”
Killing intent shot from the Killing King’s transparent eyes.
But Myeongsin did not care at all. Rather, this was good. In a battle between experts, the angrier the opponent became, the more advantageous it was.
“That makes you feel bad, doesn’t it? Just as you don’t think you betrayed your father, I’m the same.”
The Killing King stared at him without a word.
Myeongsin wondered if the reason he had been captivated by the Killing King was because of those transparent eyes.
Rather than a feeling of evil, they gave off a feeling of purity.
Without realizing it, he had perceived him that way. Sometimes the impression given by one’s appearance preceded everything else.
The Killing King slowly walked toward him.
From his gaze, Myeongsin read the will to kill him no matter what.
Myeongsin shook Hyeolla’s blood from his dagger and walked forward to meet him.
If he wanted to stall for time, he could have dragged it out by leading him into various conversations, but he did not. This revenge did not belong to Geom Mugeuk; it was his own.
‘I’ll fight with everything I have.’
The two clashed again.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!
Predicted trajectories and unexpected trajectories intertwined.
Attacks continued, some to be blocked by skill, others by instinct.
He was being pushed back in internal energy, and his arm hurt as if it would be torn off, but Myeongsin gritted his teeth and fought.
If there was a terror to being the foremost, then there was also a terror to being the second foremost, but this clear gap in skill was not something that could be overcome by will.
Slash!
Blood spurted from Myeongsin’s arm.
Shiiing!
And as the following attack was about to pierce Myeongsin’s heart.
Clang!
A sword knocked away the Killing King’s dagger.
The one who struck his dagger aside was Hwi, who had undone his concealment and appeared.
This moment, when the Killing King was about to stab Myeongsin, had been a chance to attack him directly.
But if he did that, it was certain Myeongsin would die, so he had chosen to protect him instead.
Myeongsin quickly pressed the acupoints around his wound to stop the bleeding and said,
“I didn’t want to owe you anything. Thank you.”
But Hwi gave no answer. He was only protecting Myeongsin because it was the Young Cult Leader’s order; he had no personal feelings toward this assassin.
Myeongsin tried to rise again and fight.
Then a voice came from behind.
“Why did you prepare so much? I nearly died, you know!”
Geom Mugeuk was walking out of the tavern.
The Killing King could not hide his astonishment.
He had not expected him to clear out the tavern and emerge this quickly. On top of that, Geom Mugeuk was perfectly fine, without so much as a scratch.
In truth, Myeongsin was just as surprised. Struggling to hide his astonishment, Myeongsin asked,
“How were the things prepared in there? Most of them were made by me.”
“If I’d known you were the one who made them, I wouldn’t have asked Uncle Hwi to spare you.”
Myeongsin could feel it. Geom Mugeuk was not rebuking him, but praising the excellence of the hidden weapons he had made.
Just how many people in this martial world could joke with such ease in a situation like this? After escaping that tavern of death, one might have been expected to reveal even a word of pride, even as a joke. Yet instead, he was lifting up his opponent. He was showing what true self-respect was.
‘I’ve lost.’
Myeongsin felt respect for Geom Mugeuk. Respect for a young man barely out of youth? But he was not embarrassed at all. After all, Geom Mugeuk was also the benefactor who had saved his life.
“Are you badly hurt?”
At Geom Mugeuk’s question, Myeongsin knew the moment had come to hand this fight over to them.
He did not stubbornly insist on fighting to the end.
It was deeply regrettable, but he knew it was impossible to kill the Killing King with his own skills. Pointless stubbornness would only burden Hwi and Geom Mugeuk. The Killing King was far stronger than he had thought.
Myeongsin leapt down below.
“It’s hard fighting with a body that’s only been swinging a hammer. I’ll rest for a while, so you deal with him.”
At that, Geom Mugeuk lightly launched himself into the air and landed in the spot where Myeongsin had been standing.
“Thank you, Uncle.”
It was gratitude toward Hwi, who had safely carried out his request to protect Myeongsin.
When Geom Mugeuk stood behind him, Hwi’s expression changed. Once the one he had to protect became Geom Mugeuk, he became a completely different person.
Because the ones who changed completely depending on who stood behind them were precisely bodyguard martial artists.
Looking at Hwi’s back, Geom Mugeuk felt it.
Hwi desired the fight against the Killing King.
This battle was, in the truest sense, an inevitability created by two opposing destinies.
‘What if Uncle Hwi has to fight?’
There was something he could do to help him. Something he was as good at as swordsmanship.
Geom Mugeuk asked Myeongsin, who stood beneath the roof.
“Do you know why your leader joined hands with them?”
“I do not. Do you?”
“They must have offered him something. That they would make him king of all assassins under heaven. That they would make him ruler of the night.”
Myeongsin thought that perhaps it might have been so. He truly was a man mad for killing. Perhaps only such a condition could have moved him.
“It sounds plausible enough, but in the end, doesn’t that just mean they intend to use him as a blade?”
Seeing that clear gaze stir, Geom Mugeuk began provoking the Assassin King in earnest.
“What ruler exists under someone else’s command? A ruler of the night bowing his head to the ruler of the day? How utterly pitiful. Ruler, you say! He is nothing more than a mere tool.”
Geom Mugeuk continued spitting out words meant to provoke the Assassin King. Before the fight began, he intended to shake his heart.
“He only knew how to imitate another person’s life. As for what kind of life he himself ought to live…”
It was at that very moment.
Kaaang!
Two lines of sword light appeared and vanished at the same time.
One sword line sought to bisect Geom Mugeuk’s body, while the other was the sword line that blocked the incoming attack.
Hwi had stopped the Assassin King’s strike. It had not been an attack meant to kill Geom Mugeuk, but a warning strike that said, Shut your mouth!
Of course, if that were enough to make him shut his mouth, he would not be Geom Mugeuk.
As though certain Hwi would block any attack, Geom Mugeuk continued provoking the Assassin King with a relaxed expression. This time, he used Myeongsin to do it.
“Do you know why that man is trying to break your principles?”
This was something Myeongsin was purely curious about as well.
“Why?”
“Because he is jealous. He, the number one, commits murder without any principles at all, while you, the number two, have principles and…”
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwang!
Soul-Slaying Thunder burst from the Assassin King’s sleeve. It was far more powerful than that of the assassins they had faced earlier at the tavern.
But an even more astonishing sight unfolded.
Hwi’s sword spun like a pinwheel, knocking away every hidden weapon that flew in.
Myeongsin was startled as he watched. Deflecting the hidden weapons of Soul-Slaying Thunder from that distance was something he had never even imagined possible.
‘The Cult Leader’s guard is far stronger than I thought.’
Hwi and the Assassin King stared at each other.
No other reason was needed for this fight. They were the kind of beings each hated most.
A battle of natural opposites representing the murim.
Hwi, who had always been taciturn, spoke his mind today.
“Assassins look down on guards. They think we only know how to stubbornly protect. So today, I intend to show him.”
That guards and assassins were, in the end, two sides of the same coin.
“How well someone who knows how to protect can kill, once he sets his mind to it.”
Absolute Regression, Chapter 490