Chapter 102 - The End of the Hour of the Boar

But that taste would be brief and intense. The next time they came to test him, they might be afraid to take another bite.

The hour of the boar was nearly over.

The streets were gradually emptying, but plenty of martial artists still dotted the road.

At some point, Dong Bongsu began moving among them.

Killing Shadow Number Ten was hiding beneath the eaves of a house about ten jang south of Bright Cheer Tavern. He was not alone. Other members of the Killing Shadow Corps were concealed throughout the street.

He had a fairly clear view of Number Twenty-Two, hiding in the alley opposite. The moon was bright, and Ten's hiding place was relatively higher than Twenty-Two's.

He glanced at Twenty-Two, then turned his attention back to the entrance of Bright Cheer Tavern, where the target stood.

The target was still there, his fringe concealing roughly half his face. Was he simply watching the passersby?

Ten found it frustrating that he could not see the target's eyes clearly. Like most assassins, he read his target's eyes to anticipate movements and judge when to attack. With this target, however, that avenue was completely blocked. It was frustrating, and the fact that they had no information whatsoever about him only made matters worse.

'Damn it. Why the hell won't that bastard move?'

Surely he hadn't noticed the Killing Shadow Corps?

Impossible.

The members of the Killing Shadow Corps might have come from the lowliest of backgrounds, but their training had been nothing short of hell. When it came to hiding, even Peak Realm experts would struggle to match them.

Ten believed in himself and trusted his comrades. Every last one of them had been deployed. Surely this was enough to assassinate even an elder of the Nine Sects?

Once the Killing Shadow Corps sank its teeth into a target, it never let go. Since he had joined, they had not failed a single time. This time would be no different. Information about the target could hardly matter that much.

Ten's eyes sank deeper into the darkness.

'Move. Move. The moment you move... you're a dead man!'

Just as he shouted those words inwardly, the target finally moved.

He suddenly slipped into the crowd.

Ten's eyes widened. With so many other people in the street, he would have to be careful not to lose him.

'Fifty paces, forty-nine, forty-eight...'

Ten kept measuring the distance between them so he would not lose the target. He could not see the other corps members, but they were surely all on high alert by now. Each would unleash a killing strike the moment the target came within one or two paces of their position.

Ten kept counting.

Thirty-eight paces, thirty-seven, thirty... six?!

'Huh?! He vanished?'

The target had suddenly...

Disappeared. The street was crowded, but his appearance was so distinctive that losing him should have been impossible...

Yet Ten had lost him.

Not just him, either. Dozens of Killing Shadow Corps members had been watching simultaneously, yet the target had vanished without a trace.

Flustered, Ten looked across at Twenty-Two. But Twenty-Two was looking back at him, apparently having lost the target as well.

'It's real! He really vanished!'

They both looked back at the spot where the target had first disappeared. It was right in the middle of the road. There was nowhere to hide. No one could disappear there without a Stealth Art on par with their Unit Leader's. No, even the Unit Leader could not simply wink out of existence. There should at least have been some sign of a Stealth Art being used.

But the target had literally just...

Vanished!

For the Killing Shadow Corps, losing a target meant losing their lives.

Their Unit Leader's orders were absolute.

Then what would happen if they failed an order from the mysterious woman who commanded even that leader like an extension of her own limbs?

They were finished.

"Damn it!"

Perhaps forgetting even the Killing Shadow Corps' motto, "Let your tongue slip on a mission," Ten unwittingly spoke aloud and lowered himself a little from the eaves.

Across the road, Twenty-Two was also emerging slightly from his alley. And on the other side of that alley, Number Thirty-Eight, who had been blocking the target's retreat, stepped right out into the street.

Had he spotted the target?

The instant that thought crossed Ten's mind, Thirty-Eight's head fell off.

He had no idea how it had happened. But who had done it was perfectly clear.

The target! The target had struck from somewhere in hiding, then vanished again.

"Aaaah!"

Startled by the sudden appearance of a headless corpse, the people filling the street scattered in every direction. In an instant, the street became a chaotic mess.

Now neither Ten nor the rest of the Killing Shadow Corps could make out which person was their target.

And then the slaughter began.

Number Forty-One, hidden on the roof of a house across the way, died. For the briefest instant, a shadow could be seen standing behind him. But it was only an instant.

Immediately after taking Forty-One's head, the target vanished again.

THUD. THUD. THUD...

Seven, Nine, Fifteen...

The ranks of the Killing Shadow Corps kept dwindling.

"Wh-what is that...?!"

Now they could occasionally glimpse the target. At other times, they could not see so much as a shadow. There was no making sense of it.

When visible, the target was fast. No, calling him fast hardly seemed right. He grew faster with every corps member he killed. Sometimes he vanished as though dropping out of existence; at other times, he disappeared as though slipping into a pillar.

No one could track his movements. This was neither a Stealth Art nor a lightness art, nor anything else they knew.

What could they call it?

He was simply a ghost! A ghost.

"A g-ghost! It's a ghost!"

Had someone given voice to Ten's thoughts? One of the people out enjoying the evening screamed, and the crowd scattered all the faster.

Some of the Killing Shadow Corps tried to blend into the crowd and escape. None succeeded. The target—no, the ghost—killed those attempting to flee first.

That confined the corps members to an ever-smaller range of movement. Ten was no exception, nor was Twenty-Two across from him. The terror of dying first if they moved was seared into all their minds.

But staying still did not mean they would live. The slaughter continued throughout the street, whether they moved or not.

Ten could only wait, his mouth hanging open.

Wait for his turn.

Across from him, Twenty-Two stood just as dumbstruck, his mouth open. Then his head disappeared.

The man who had severed Twenty-Two's head turned to look this way.

Of course, Ten could not move. Not because he knew movement would be futile. His body, his legs, his arms... simply would not move.

The ghost slipped out of sight again. That peculiar movement technique of his, no doubt.

Immediately, gooseflesh rose along Ten's back.

Behind him. The ghost had appeared behind him. He knew without looking.

The sharp scent of blood was stinging his nose. Soon, his own blood would join it.

"Who is she?"

The ghost spoke.

Even his voice was unusual. Was he truly different from a human? It was utterly flat, without the faintest trace of emotion.

Ten's eyes trembled. He did not know who the woman the ghost meant was. All he knew was that she commanded the Unit Leader like an extension of her own limbs.

"I..."

Ten opened his mouth to say he did not know. But the words never became sound. His head was already sliding sideways, his eyes sinking lower, and his consciousness had already fled far away.

At that moment, the hour of the rat began, ushering in a new day.

"Well, there goes today already. What a shame."

Yeon Youngha smacked her lips regretfully.

She was perched on an oak branch on a hill about thirty jang from Bright Cheer Tavern. From there, she had watched everything that happened outside the tavern.

Even after seeing a similar scene for the third time, she still found it astonishing.

Beyond common sense.

That man had strayed outside the bounds of normal humanity. Like her... Perhaps he was even more abnormal.

She felt she might understand if she watched once or twice more... Unfortunately, the day had ended. Yeon Youngha found that deeply disappointing.

"Old Uncle, did you see that?"

The shadow remained motionless at her words. There was no reply.

"Right, of course. There's no way you got a proper look."

Only at her next words did the shadow ripple.

"Hmm? Me? You're asking whether I saw it?"

"I didn't either. That's why it's driving me even crazier. Three times wasn't enough. Not nearly enough."

A mere three times had not even been enough to understand it.

Disappearing, reappearing...

It was not just his body. The sword in his hand was there, then gone; it appeared, then vanished... Incredible as it was, she had seen it clearly with her own eyes.

Even now, there was no sword in his hand, though he had certainly been holding one when he killed the last corps member.

The Cursed Killing Intent seethed again.

Yeon Youngha's eyes turned pitch-black.

It was difficult to hold back. Yet she could not let the Cursed Killing Intent run wild here.

"This is driving me mad. I'm really going to lose my mind. Old Uncle, I want to play with him so badly I can't stand it."

Was it the sight of her pitch-black eyes? The shadow shuddered as though stricken with palsy.

"There's a place called No Family Village about ten li beyond this hill?"

As though affirming her words, the shadow undulated along the branch again.

Her pitch-black eyes gleamed with madness. Reflected in those inky depths was Dong Bongsu, making his leisurely way back to the Murim Alliance. She also caught sight of Alliance patrol members who had already arrived after hearing of the slaughter.

She wanted to play with everyone down there, but it was not yet time.

The grand stage of the All-Under-Heaven Youth Sparring Tournament would open soon enough, after all.

Not yet... Now was not the time. Today, she would simply catch a few bugs to soothe the Cursed Killing Intent.