Chapter 28 - The First Stratagem

The man in black now had only one way to survive: meet the man's sword strike head-on. As though aware of this, the black-clad assassin raised the sword that had severed the woman's neck and thrust it toward him.

But the man had absolute confidence in his sword.

Few people in all of Murim could withstand this strike. Here in Anhui Province, in particular, he could count them on his fingers. It was not a strike some mere assassin could counter.

He did not doubt for an instant that this blow would send the head of the audacious assassin who had come for his life tumbling to the floor.

But then!

WOOOOOM!

The assassin's sword suddenly turned inky black, and an eerie sword hum rang out. At the same time, his black sword qi went berserk, beginning to cut through every strand of the man's sword qi. Before the man's sword qi could unleash any variations, it was being annihilated.

"Hm!? This is..."

The man was startled—not because the assassin's sword had stopped his own, but because he knew this swordsmanship very well, though it had been a long time since he had last seen it.

"Ink-Frenzy Killing Sword!? Damn it!"

He hastily tried to withdraw his outstretched sword, but it was already too late. His trembling sword tip met the trailing edge of the assassin's black sword qi in midair.

Considering the force their swords had been emitting, the clash was not particularly loud. Its repercussions, however, were anything but slight. The lingering fragments of the assassin's shattered black sword qi left cuts all over the man's naked body, while deep sword gouges appeared across the floor and ceiling between them.

The assassin, meanwhile, had one side of his mask sliced away, exposing the lower part of his face. A long blade scar marked his left cheek.

Neither had emerged entirely victorious.

For a long while, they glared at each other, their swords still extended toward one another.

Then, without warning—

"Hahahaha!"

For some reason, the man suddenly threw back his head in loud laughter and lowered his sword. His now-shriveled member swung grotesquely with the movement. Though he knew the assassin was still pointing a sword at him, he paid it no mind and went to sit at the table in the center of the room.

When the man lowered his sword, the assassin silently followed suit and folded his arms. Standing ramrod straight, he watched the man.

Both had effectively declared that they no longer intended to fight.

TAP!

The man set his sword on the table and spoke first.

"Has it been ten years?"

"Nine years and one hundred ninety days."

Ten years, or nine years and one hundred ninety days. Their memories differed in precision, but the two knew each other.

"Just like you, Mad Cloud. Remembering even those trifles so precisely."

The man called the assassin Mad Cloud and seemed to know him well. Judging by that, Mad Cloud had never come to kill him in the first place. As if to prove it, the killing intent that had been flowing naturally from his body vanished as well.

Mad Cloud still offered no reaction, but the man continued.

"So, what business brings the esteemed Eighteenth Cloud all the way here in person?"

Their relationship apparently was not entirely smooth; the man's words carried a faintly mocking edge. Mad Cloud seemed unconcerned and began saying what he had come to say.

"Orders have come down, Ash Shadow."

Mad Cloud's voice was rough, as though he were speaking with a handful of sand in his mouth.

"Orders?"

Ash Shadow asked again, checking whether the word he had heard from Mad Cloud's mouth really was 'orders.' But there was no need. Though they had not met in roughly a decade, Ash Shadow knew better than anyone that Mad Cloud was not a man to misspeak.

Heat surged through Ash Shadow's body. Then he gave a violent shudder. That single word, orders, had excited him in a way he had never experienced during intercourse with the woman whose head and body now lay separately on the bed—or, indeed, during sex with any woman.

Orders. How long had it been since he had heard that word?

'Ten years?'

He had ventured into Murim on 'his' orders. In the ten years since, Ash Shadow had not received a single command. Now, without warning, orders had arrived.

The habitual playfulness disappeared from his face, and every trace of levity left his voice.

"What are they?"

"The First Stratagem."

Mad Cloud's answer was rough and brief.

Though Ash Shadow had expected it, the answer still struck him. The reason he had entered Murim, and the reason he had lived all these years, were contained within those few words.

'The First Stratagem!'

Their gazes locked.

Ash Shadow asked another question, this time about a person central to carrying out the First Stratagem.

"Shifting Shadow?"

Mad Cloud answered as though he had been waiting for the question.

"The Namgung Clan."

"The date?"

Perhaps because this had been foretold long ago, they understood one another without the slightest difficulty, despite their extremely terse, almost coded exchange.

"Shifting Shadow's wedding is on the fifteenth of this month."

"A wedding? Shifting Shadow? Then don't tell me he's...!"

Mad Cloud offered no further hint, but Ash Shadow could guess whose identity Shifting Shadow had assumed.

"How far?"

He was asking about the extent of the operation. Once again, the question omitted everything else, but Mad Cloud answered without hesitation.

"Everyone except Shifting Shadow and Namgung Hye."

Ash Shadow nodded as though he had expected the answer. But one issue still troubled him.

"Are you aware that Tang Wu the Soul-Chasing Poison Hand is in Anhui right now? Is he among the targets too?"

"Of course."

"The forces here alone won't be enough. Reinforcements?"

"Five Shadows."

"Five Shadows?"

"Including you and Shifting Shadow, that makes seven."

Ash Shadow was considerably surprised. The First Stratagem was important, certainly, but he had not expected such extraordinary support. It must mean that 'his' resolve was that strong.

"With that many, we should succeed without much trouble, even with Tang Wu there. But why have you come? I thought you were the reinforcement."

"I have another task."

"Laying the bait for the Second Stratagem, then."

As always, Mad Cloud did not respond to questions that needed no answer. Ash Shadow did not press him.

His silence was answer enough, and in any case, each needed only to fulfill his own duty. The Shadows and the Cloud had different assignments. They had been raised that way and had lived that way.

Apparently finished, Mad Cloud turned to leave. Watching his back, Ash Shadow asked one final question.

"Oh, what was Shifting Shadow's name again?"

He had already guessed who Shifting Shadow was, but asked to confirm it.

"Do Heo-ok."

No sooner had Mad Cloud uttered the name than he vanished like settling dust, as though he had never been there at all.

"Mad Cloud. You're as insufferable as ever. Tsk. Anyway, is it really beginning now?"

Ash Shadow shook his head once and walked over to the bed. He shoved the headless woman's lower body with his foot, pushing her off the bed. Blood from her neck stained the floor, but he paid it no mind. Such things happened quite often here. No one would be shocked or reproach him over the death of a single plaything like her.

He carelessly wiped the sweat from his body, then put on his clothes, stained with the woman's blood. All the seriousness had already vanished from his face, replaced by his usual playfulness.

"Bah. That bastard Mad Cloud got blood all over clothes I actually like. Damn it. Still, I thought the Shadows would spend their whole lives alone, but now one of us is getting married. Ah, there's plenty to envy. Shifting Shadow gets to become a hero of the Orthodox Faction and take the First Beauty of Anhui as his bride. Meanwhile, I'm stuck in a gloomy place like this, fucking filthy whores like her."

With those words—whether in jest or genuine envy, it was impossible to tell—he left the room.

The door closed, and silence settled over the room.

There, where only the woman's head remained forlornly on the bed, a blade lodged in its mouth as it stared down the moon, was the room of Paga Hyeol, the Naked Silver Demon—the man in overall command of the Heavenly Demon Castle's Anhui Branch.

A rising star.

The term referred to a newly ascendant star.

People commonly used it to describe an outstanding young talent who appeared out of nowhere. In that sense, no one could have suited the term better than Do Heo-ok.

He truly had appeared in Murim without warning. At first, however, his actions stirred no more than a gentle breeze.

His name first became known among martial artists when he single-handedly wiped out an obscure band of mounted bandits in Liaoning Province. Even then, scarcely anyone paid attention to him.

But then came others.

The Eight Eccentrics of Hebei Province, the Demon Roc Gang of Shanxi, Ha Rang the Flying Demon Fox of Shaanxi, Cheon Daegang the Thunder Sun Palm of Sichuan...

As Do Heo-ok continued west, defeating one practitioner of evil and demonic ways after another, people gradually began to reassess him. Even so, their estimation of him remained low. Gossips went out of their way to belittle his opponents as second-rate, confidently declaring that his unstoppable progress would end as soon as he encountered a true expert.

At last, that day arrived.

When Do Heo-ok reached Hubei, the Yin-Yang Twin Demons barred his path. Though they did not rank among the Two Divinities, Three Eccentrics, Five Masters, and Ten Greats, these notorious demons of the previous generation were not far behind them in skill. No greenhorn who had only just entered Murim could possibly contend with them. Yet Do Heo-ok shattered that assumption in a single stroke. He did not win, but he withstood a thousand exchanges against the Yin-Yang Twin Demons alone. In the end, neither side could settle the contest, and both withdrew.

The result sent shock waves through Murim.