Chapter 115 - Opening the Eyes (2)

"I'll carry them, Lady Namgung."

"There's no need. I brought people to help."

Moving with such vigor that one would never have guessed he had been yawning with fatigue a moment earlier, Yi Ijeom picked up part of the mountain of application forms and stood beside Namgung Hye. Her polite refusal had already become meaningless.

Regardless, Dong Bongsu was slowly making his way out of the hall.

"Wow. Lady Namgung is so beautiful. Isn't she...?"

Walking beside Dong Bongsu, Ha Seonhyang spoke timidly, stealing glances over her shoulder. Namgung Hye's fame and beauty must have thoroughly intimidated her. Seeing her from a distance and looking at her from barely a foot away were worlds apart.

Dong Bongsu answered without breaking stride.

"Indeed."

A short, plain answer. It demonstrated his lack of interest perfectly.

The Fairy of the Murim Alliance. The graceful figure holding the hem of her pale-blue silk robes as she moved as though about to take flight.

None of that meant a thing.

What he knew, what he remembered, was that the real Namgung Hye should never have been alive.

On the very day the Namgung Clan fell, the real Namgung Hye had remained atop Seonjung Mountain. When Tang Wu, Tang Hwa, and some of the other survivors leaped down, clinging to the faintest thread of hope, he had killed them all.

Namgung Hye had not been among those he killed.

So there was a very slim chance she might still be alive, but in Do Heo-ok's place, he would have killed her. Alive, she would have been of no use—only a burden.

That was why this Namgung Hye could not be real.

It was Do Heo-ok. There was no doubt about it.

His true identity, however, remained unknown.

His affiliation, his background, his actual age... everything was shrouded in mystery.

The one certainty was that he did not belong to the Heavenly Demon Castle.

Although the Heavenly Demon Castle had been responsible for annihilating the Namgung Clan, it had gained little from the Great Anhui Massacre. No, in truth, it had only suffered losses.

If the aim had been to strike the orthodox factions of the Central Plains by surprise, there was no reason the target had to be the Namgung Clan. And if Do Heo-ok really had been the Heavenly Demon Castle's spy, he would not have chosen such a transparent approach.

Whatever his precise identity, Dong Bongsu currently held the advantage over Do Heo-ok. He would have to give more thought to how to use that information, but one thing was clear: he was a step ahead of Namgung Hye.

He had recognized her, while she—or he—still failed to recognize Dong Bongsu.

"Ugh, it's not fair. Why are there so many pretty women in the Central Plains?!"

Ha Seonhyang vented her frustration and puffed out her cheeks.

She looked very cute, but Dong Bongsu's reaction was something else entirely.

An easy woman to read.

That was his brief assessment of Ha Seonhyang.

He was no more interested in her than he was in Namgung Hye. That was all the opposite sex amounted to for him. Strictly speaking, of course, Namgung Hye was not even a member of the opposite sex.

GROWL.

An unexpected sound.

"Huh? What was that?"

Dong Bongsu's stomach growled again.

"Heehee. You must be very hungry."

The signal had come suddenly, but Dong Bongsu really was hungry. He had gone nearly ten days without eating, so it was only natural. He had also exhausted every last bit of his body's energy wandering through the Hell of Unceasing Torment. That was probably why all his hair had turned white in such a short time.

One of the few remaining signs that he was human.

Appetite.

"Let's go get something to eat."

Blushing, Ha Seonhyang rubbed lightly beneath her nose before adding,

"Together. Hehe."

'Is she asking me on a date?'

Dong Bongsu murmured inwardly. But she was not the only one asking him on a date right now.

His body was not the only thing that had gone hungry for some ten days.

GROWL. GROWL.

Instinct. His nature as a predator was clamoring madly.

It was hungry. It was starving to death.

It was time to go hunting.

Registration for the All-Under-Heaven Youth Sparring Tournament had closed.

Access through Martial Harmony Gate was restricted once more, and Zhengzhou grew busier than ever. Things would remain this way until the Awakening of Insects, when the tournament would begin in earnest.

Naturally, Zhengzhou had reached the height of its busy season.

Weapons shops, taverns, restaurants, inns, stables, medical clinics, escort agencies—even the little shops tucked into the corners of the marketplace.

Business was booming everywhere.

How could it not be, when every step of the streets was already packed, yet more people kept pouring in by the moment?

That, however, applied only to legitimate trades.

Those engaged in illegal work were suffering an unprecedented slump. No slow season had ever been this slow.

Pickpockets, thieves, the Unorthodox Faction, and the like.

Those who had to operate in the shadows were keeping as quiet as mice. They had little choice: it was often impossible to tell from someone's clothes whether they were a martial artist. There was no knowing what might happen if they picked on the wrong one. Even the homeless people sleeping facedown in the streets included countless martial artists...

On top of that, members of the Murim Defense Corps were stationed in every corner of the city to maintain order in Zhengzhou and its surroundings. Who would dare commit crimes so recklessly?

Circumstances left them no choice.

For now, their best option was to lie utterly still, without so much as blinking, like animals in hibernation. They could simply resume their activities at the Awakening of Insects, when the animals emerged from their dens.

If they could endure until then, only the easy marks would remain here, ready to become their prey once more.

Killers. Assassins, in other words.

Swaggering braggarts who claimed they could kill anyone for money, be it the emperor, the lord of the Heavenly Demon Castle, or the Murim Alliance Leader.

The very notion of such groups existing in Zhengzhou, home to the Murim Alliance, was laughable, but they most certainly existed.

In fact, the Murim Alliance had tried repeatedly to drive the assassin bands and killers' organizations out of Zhengzhou—and, beyond it, all of Henan—but had ultimately failed.

The reason was simple.

Every assassin organization operated through a rigorously compartmentalized network of cells. Finding one or two secret connections did little good. Once they cut off those connections like a lizard shedding its tail and went into hiding, there was no way to catch even the body, let alone the head.

In the end, the Murim Alliance had no choice but to leave them alone.

Besides, these shadowy killers operated only in darkness. As long as the Murim Alliance remained rooted on Mount Clear Dawn, they could never emerge into Zhengzhou's daylight. The Alliance's leading figures knew that if they were simply left to work in the shadows forever, they would keep to their place of their own accord. There was no need to turn over an entire cesspit just to kill a few maggots.

It was merely that during special periods like this one, they kept a tighter watch on the privies for the sake of their visitors.

Thus, hard times had come even for the maggots, forcing them to burrow deeper...

But...

Among them were some particularly troublesome pests, such as the Deathblood Gang.

Swarms of flies spread through every privy under heaven.

Visible, yet exceedingly difficult to eradicate.

...sir...

...chief...

... Chief...

"Branch Chief!"

"Mmm... What is it?"

Hu Jangrang finally woke to Palgeuk's repeated calls.

Thanks to a rare stretch of days off, he had been enjoying another sweet sleep today. He was especially tired after thoroughly satisfying his long-denied lust the previous day.

If you've woken me over nothing... you're fucking dead.

Hu Jangrang scowled and narrowed his eyes, preparing to roar at Palgeuk. But what Palgeuk said next left him unable to get angry.

"An order has come in."

"An order?"

"Yes, Branch Chief."

Only then did Hu Jangrang notice the commission scroll in Palgeuk's hand.

Was it really an order?

He rose and all but snatched the scroll from him.

RUSTLE.

The tightly wound woven scroll unfurled under his rough hands.

In truth, Hu Jangrang felt neither much concern nor great anticipation as he opened it. It was simply the first order in a while; he doubted it would be anything difficult.

Who would place an unreasonable order at a time like this?

Even if someone did, the Deathblood Gang had no reason to accept it. With the All-Under-Heaven Youth Sparring Tournament just around the corner, carrying out a killing that needlessly offended the Murim Alliance could bring another round of trouble.

Palgeuk was an assassin senior enough to know that well. Any order he accepted would surely be some trifling bit of work.

With that judgment in mind, Hu Jangrang quickly scanned the unrolled commission with bleary eyes.

Sure enough.

"Nothing much."

Just as he had expected.

The commission contained brief information about the "goods" along with their portraits. The faces were unfamiliar, and their backgrounds were not worth worrying about. The only unusual thing was that two orders had come in at once.

If he had to name one other detail...

"The client must be a painter."

The portraits on the commission were exceptionally well drawn. Hu Jangrang knew little about painting, but anyone could see these were masterpieces.

Though rendered in ink alone, the portraits were so vivid that their subjects seemed ready to rise to life at any moment.

One man, his hair painted in very pale ink.

Presumably, that was meant to show that his hair had lost its color. His bangs concealed more than half his face, making him distinctive enough on that count alone.

And then there was a young woman with a mischievous expression.

She was a very youthful-looking beauty who seemed ready to leap out of the painting at any moment and ask him to play with her.

But—

SNAP!

Hu Jangrang promptly folded the commission again, ending his brief appreciation of the artwork.

Whoever the client or the "goods" might be, it was none of his concern.