Tag: Hide-and-Seek
Heukjeop shouted.
"You're Sam Anbul…!"
"You? What a rude brat you are."
Sam Anbul struck the crown of Heukjeop's head.
Thud. The sound was far too loud for something that came from a human head.
Heukjeop nearly lost his life right then and there, but Sam Anbul relaxed his strength at the last moment, sparing him from a broken neck.
Sam Anbul let out a sigh of relief.
I almost killed him.
Since Sam Anbul wasn't skilled at striking acupoints, handling someone of Heukjeop's level by pinching meridians wasn't easy.
But thanks to his reflexive reaction, there was no need for the troublesome business of trying to aim for pressure points.
Still… why is this guy even here?
In truth, Sam Anbul hadn't realized the person on the roof was Heukjeop before grabbing him.
He had just been about to sleep a moment ago. Then, just as he was drifting off, he sensed a faint presence above the roof and woke up.
In all of Chengdu, the only one who'd creep around rooftops at night with martial arts skill was Namgung Myeong. Naturally, Sam Anbul assumed Namgung Myeong had returned to the city.
So, he yanked down the intruder simply because the presence had ruined his sleep—he thought he'd play a little prank.
But the one he caught wasn't Namgung Myeong.
And worse—it was someone he could easily guess the identity of.
From the clothing to the martial aura, it was unmistakable: he looked like Salmakju.
Sam Anbul scratched his bristly head.
If Old Man Sae-Hon were here, he would've figured out in an instant why this fellow had shown up. But Sae-Hon was still wandering the Central Plains.
So Sam Anbul stepped outside and scanned the surroundings. Two cult swordsmen from the Demonic Sect were wiping blood off their blades on the corpses of assassins.
Sam Anbul asked,
"And who the hell are they supposed to be?"
"Assassins, it seems. They mistook us for Namgung Myeong and tried to capture us, but when they realized he wasn't here, we cut them down."
It seemed people's thoughts always ran the same. Sam Anbul clicked his tongue.
"That's fine, but don't you dare stab Namgung Myeong by mistake."
"We've got eyes too, sir. We won't confuse him. But what should we do with the bodies? It's been so long since we've killed anyone."
"Bury them in some deserted mountain. They wore black robes and were slain with a single sword strike. Even if someone finds them, no one will suspect much. But best avoid unnecessary trouble."
"Understood."
The two cult swordsmen dragged the corpses away, and Sam Anbul returned inside.
Then he slapped the still-limp Heukjeop across the face. Smack!
Heukjeop awoke with a dazed expression.
He rolled his eyes, unable to understand the situation.
…That wasn't a dream just now?
He had assumed it was nonsense. Three shabby houses each hiding a peak expert, and then the fourth with a super-class master? Impossible.
But the worst part was—it wasn't a dream.
What miserable luck. He'd have better odds being struck by lightning.
…What is this place, some kind of demonic den?
And to top it all, that super-class master turned out to be Sam Anbul. Wasn't he the one who'd tried to abduct Tang Mujin into the Demonic Sect?
It was strange enough that Tang Mujin had escaped safely from the sect, but for Sam Anbul to be living right next door to Tang's clinic? Incomprehensible.
Heukjeop racked his brain frantically, but the situation was too surreal to make sense of.
In the end, he had only one choice: grovel to survive.
"Elder Sam Anbul. Please spare my life."
"Hmph. Begging for your life already? So you admit you came here with a filthy purpose, enough to deserve death?"
Sam Anbul pressed him with words, and Heukjeop panicked.
"That wasn't my intention—!"
"Silence."
Sam Anbul's fist smashed into Heukjeop's crown again. Thud.
Blood dripped from Heukjeop's nose as he slumped over. Sam Anbul bound him tightly with rope and hung him from the eaves, thinking:
I don't know what's going on, but it's best to show him to Tang Mujin.
Then Sam Anbul returned to bed.
***
It took Tang Mujin's group seven days and nights to return to Chengdu from Yangyang.
Hyeongong, pretending to be nonchalant, kept looking around.
In Hubei, especially around Mount Wudang, there was no city as large as Chengdu. Compared to Yangyang, the largest nearby city, Chengdu was easily five times bigger.
Not an ordinary clinic. In a city this large, to be the most reputable medical household—that's no small thing.
As the four trudged through Chengdu, a familiar face appeared in the distance.
It was Hwang Ryeongja, branch master of the Chengdu sub-branch of Qingcheng Sect.
He approached Tang Mujin.
"I heard you were away on business. Just now returning?"
"Yes, elder."
"You've worked hard. I'll send Jin Song over later. If you have some zhijuzi fruit, prepare a handful for me. I need to brew it slowly as a tonic."
"I'll bring it to you myself, so there's no need to send someone."
"That would be much appreciated. See you later, then."
As they exchanged words, Hyeongong studied Hwang Ryeongja closely—his attire, demeanor, and martial aura. He was clearly a Taoist of Qingcheng Sect.
After Hwang Ryeongja left, Hyeongong asked Tang Mujin,
"He seemed like a Taoist master of Qingcheng Sect. Why is he here in Chengdu?"
"Elder Hwang Ryeongja? He's the sub-branch master of the Chengdu branch of Qingcheng Sect."
"I see. You seemed rather close to him."
"Our Tang Clinic has always been closely tied with Qingcheng Sect. For generations, we've run the clinic right beside their sub-branch."
Hyeongong nodded. Even if he himself wasn't a Taoist, indirect ties still meant a connection.
Another point of interest.
After walking a while along the wall of Qingcheng Sect's sub-branch, the Tang Clinic came into view.
But what caught Hyeongong's attention wasn't the clinic. It was something stranger.
The houses surrounding the clinic were unusually full of martial artists.
The man spreading out old rice in the sun, picking out bugs and stones, was a first-class martial artist. The man next door, braiding rope on his porch, was a peak master. And none of them looked like Qingcheng Taoists.
This is suspicious.
A peak master had no reason to live in some shabby house like this.
With skills like that, they could easily found a sect in some city, gather disciples, and lord over them.
Even the most influential sect in Yangyang, Taiui Sword Sect, had a previous sect leader who was peak level, but the current one was only first-class.
Yet here, they all kept glancing at Tang Mujin—not with hostility, but with familiarity.
Finally, Hyeongong couldn't hold back his curiosity.
"Who are those people? They don't look like Qingcheng Taoists."
Tang Mujin hesitated. How should he explain them?
Remnants of the Demonic Sect? Defectors from it? No matter how he phrased it, it sounded bad.
In the end, he answered vaguely.
"For some reason, they ended up living near our house. They're just… neighbors."
"…Neighbors, huh."
It was obvious much was left unsaid, but Hyeongong wasn't in a position to pry. Living at Tang Clinic, he'd naturally find out in time.
When the four entered the Tang Clinic, a woman who had been dozing off in the corner of the courtyard suddenly leapt to her feet.
Her skin was tanned, her eyes sparkled brightly—and in some way, she resembled Tang Mujin.
Hyeongong's eyes gleamed.
Tang Mujin's younger sister? Another three points for the brother-in-law.
The next moment, the woman ran straight to Tang Mujin and wrapped both arms tightly around his waist.
"I told you to come back within a month, but you dragged it out to the very last day? I was worried you'd be late again."
"Sorry. I wanted to come earlier, but unexpected things kept happening."
Tang Mujin didn't care about the stares of others; he spread his arms and hugged Dan seol-yeong close.
It wasn't the kind of embrace a brother gave a sister. Hyeongong immediately deducted three points again. Justice prevails—what's crooked always straightens in the end.
Dan seol-yeong asked,
"Is everything finished?"
"Almost."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Now?"
"Of course now. Why don't we go into the side house and talk slowly?"
"I suppose that's best."
As the brief exchange passed between them, Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae spat on the ground in disgust.
Ignoring their reactions, Tang Mujin clasped Dan seol-yeong's hand and was about to lead her inside when a booming voice called from outside the clinic.
"Tang Mujin! Before you go in, have a word with me."
"Ah, yes. I'm coming."
Dan seol-yeong crossed her arms in annoyance.
Beyond the low wall of the Tang Clinic stood a huge man.
The man asked,
"That young fellow beside you—I don't recognize him. Who is he?"
"This is Hyeongong, from Wudang Sect."
"Every time you go out, you bring someone back, don't you."
"It just happens that way."
"Hah, I shouldn't talk. I'm one of those people myself. Hahaha!"
The most confused person now was Hyeongong.
The man's appearance was far too distinctive.
This was Hyeongong's first time leaving Hubei, but there was no mistaking Sam Anbul.
Gray skin, a body covered in scars, and a massive monk's frame—there was only one man in the world like that.
And the way Sam Anbul spoke with Tang Mujin, so familiar and friendly—it was shocking.
Hyeongong fell into deep thought. Sam Anbul was a Great Demon Head, one of the most infamous in the world.
Was being close to such a man a bonus point—or a heavy deduction?
This place really is strange in every way.
Hyeongong gave up on thinking further.
***
Following behind Sam Anbul, Tang Mujin came upon a man bound tightly with ropes, hanging unconscious from the eaves. An unfamiliar face.
He had clearly been hanging for some time—his blood circulation was cut off, his limbs swollen dark and dusky.
"Who is this man?"
"A few days ago, he climbed onto my roof."
"…Isn't that too harsh for a mere petty thief?"
"No. He was wearing black robes and a mask. He's unconscious now so you can't tell, but his martial skill was decent. And look here."
Sam Anbul tore the man's shirt, baring his chest. A distinct black butterfly tattoo marked his skin.
"My guess? He's Heukjeop of Salmakju."
Tang Mujin recalled the Salmakju he had faced not long ago.
Though dressed in black in the night, his build was similar to this man's, and his upturned eyes matched as well.
Tang Mujin drew a deep breath and swung his sword.
The rope binding the man snapped, and he tumbled gracelessly onto the ground.
Groaning, he stirred and slowly got up, massaging his numb, prickling limbs, glancing around—
Then his eyes met Tang Mujin's. His whole body froze.
Tang Mujin grinned, showing white teeth.
He was never one to smile often, but this was different. The last time he had smiled like this was when he entered the Jeweon Hundred Family Manor and killed Baek Choo-seo .
Unlike other assassins he had slain, a sharp, uncontrollable thrill and excitement rushed through his entire body.
Heukjeop pointed a trembling finger.
"Y-you!"
"We met not long ago, didn't we? Nice to see you again."
Yes. Skipping the Taiji Sword training and returning straight to Chengdu had been the best decision.
For piercing this man's heart, no sword art was better than the Heart-Piercing Sword.
Tang Mujin's hands shook, eager to drive a hole through his heart right now.
But ending it so quickly would be a waste.
Tang Mujin raised his sword and stabbed deep into both of Heukjeop's thighs.
Poisonous energy seeped down the blade into Heukjeop's body.
Then Tang Mujin stepped back.
"Now then. You know the game of hide-and-seek, don't you? Run with all your strength."
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