The assassin stared at the dagger embedded in the table.

‘How the hell….’

Before he could even find the words, the assassination target opened his mouth.

“Is it the Sword-Breaking Society or Ilwido River Crossing? Don’t say it’s neither. Don’t start spouting bullshit. I knew the moment I saw you watching from the building.”

“……”

The assassin suddenly recalled various images of Yi Zaha.

The way he stretched lazily, the way he looked up with a dumpling in his mouth, the gaze he gave while chatting with Jomsoi and glancing in his direction, and even the expression he had when he sent Jomsoi in first before checking the area himself…

He’d thought it was all part of Yi Zaha’s everyday behavior.

But it wasn’t.

Ironically, what Ilwido River Crossing considered the most important trait for an assassin—naturalness blended into daily life—was what had misled him.

And only after seeing the dagger stuck in the table did the assassin realize Yi Zaha’s every move had been calculated. Which meant, even by Ilwido’s standards, he was facing someone on a far higher level than himself.

Unknowingly, the assassin asked a question he was curious about.

“Was Haomun an assassin organization?”

Those words came from the mouth of a brat who looked practically newborn.

“You can’t go through life with such a narrow field of vision.”

***

I looked at the assassin I was about to kill and felt a twinge of annoyance. It wasn’t killing him that bothered me. It was knowing this wouldn’t be the end.

Unless I wiped out the Sword-Breaking Society or tore Ilwido River Crossing out by the roots, scum like this would keep coming for me.

The assassin asked back.

“Narrow field of vision?”

“When a young man talks down to a dumpling shop owner, the normal reaction is to look back. When a full-grown man walks in with a dumpling hanging out of his mouth, it’s normal to think he looks ridiculous. And when someone starts singing some weird song, most people at least glance back. But someone who doesn’t react to any of that? That’s not a regular guy. That’s proof of training. I can spot trained bastards better than anyone.”

Only then did the assassin’s face change.

“I didn’t recognize you because I’m an assassin. From the start, the way I think and see things is different from you people. Got it?”

I looked at the assassin’s expression and smiled.

“It's not killing you that's annoying—it's what comes after. Kill one, kill another, and keep killing, yet the boss never shows up. But I’ll endure. Dealing with assassins is just part of a boss’s job.”

I drank my liquor as I looked at the assassin from Ilwido River Crossing.

If we could talk a bit, I’d kill him after the conversation.

If not, I’d kill him right away.

But it had been a while since an assassin came for me, and all sorts of thoughts were popping into my head.

“Back in the day, the words assassin or hitman weren’t all that different from swordsman. Like Jing Ke, the guy who tried to kill the first emperor. He got respect.”

“Is that so?”

“But you guys take money and kill anyone, so the world’s really changed. Swordsmen and assassins used to be on the same side. Now it’s like they’re on opposite ends of the earth. Once, being an assassin meant being a swordsman. But now assassins kill swordsmen, and swordsmen kill assassins. What do you think?”

“……”

“No thoughts? Haomun isn’t an assassin organization. But as the master of that place, I intend to do the kind of work from when the words swordsman and assassin meant the same thing. So in that sense, I guess I’m an assassin too.”

I made a gesture like I was slicing a neck with the edge of my hand.

“I’m good at killing, too. We’re in the same business, you and I… which brings me to the point—shouldn’t I be the one to kill the boss of Ilwido River Crossing? So guys like you don’t have to show up anymore. Got any thoughts on that?”

I took another sip of my liquor.

The assassin was too tense to even drink.

Looks like my precious words weren’t sinking into his ears.

He was constantly judging whether he was faster or I was, which made me sigh.

Obviously, I’m faster.

“Hey, most assassins are orphans like you. And if they’re not, they usually make sure to kill everyone around them to become orphans. Because emotions get in the way. They interfere with training. Assassin groups are usually like that. Which is why guys like you lack the emotional depth to understand what I’m saying. I kinda feel sorry for you.”

I pointed my finger at the assassin.

“Ending your life is my job. But you’re not dying because of me—you’re dying because of the bastard who created Ilwido River Crossing. Understand that as you die.”

“That is the life of an assassin.”

“Dying while following orders is what an assassin’s life is?”

“That’s right.”

“No one has to live like that.”

“I’ve already spilled too much blood. Who would I blame?”

“What a pathetic life. What I want to know is where the main base of Ilwido River Crossing is. If you can’t say it, draw your sword. You’re making my walk take longer.”

The assassin’s gaze dropped, checking the dagger embedded in the table.

“…”

The moment his eyes moved back toward me, I drew Fang of the Black Rabbit from beneath the table.

My own interpretation of the blade-drawing form.

Shaa―!

As the sword cut through the table, I poured internal energy into the strike, and when the blade cleaved the table in two, its fang-like edge wrapped in flame.

A red line traced across the assassin’s body before he could even draw a weapon. Blood caught fire and hissed as it ignited, engulfed in flame. Only then did the blood spurt.

Splat!

The assassin, who had begun to rise awkwardly from his seat, collapsed backward with the upper half of his body sliced diagonally off.

Thud—then came the sound of his torso splitting into two pieces.

I flicked the blood off the blade and sheathed Fang of the Black Rabbit.

The assassin’s face held more confusion than pain.

In moments like this, it’s mercy to kill without pain.

I wasn’t angry at the dead man himself. But my hatred toward Ilwido River Crossing and the Sword-Breaking Society stacked up like a tower in an instant.

As that river of fury surged inside me, Jomsoi Jangsam rushed out with a shocked look.

“Master?”

“Yeah.”

“Was he an assassin?”

“Yup.”

I saw Jangsam approaching the body and warned him.

“Don’t touch him. His clothes or even his mouth could be laced with poison. You don’t touch a corpse like this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll send subordinates to clean it up right away. Just leave it for now. Take this.”

I handed Jangsam some silver.

“For the booze. And the table.”

“Why so much?”

“It’s in advance. This kind of thing’s going to happen a lot. I’ll be taking walks more often for a while.”

Better to walk around in broad daylight wide open than get ambushed while sleeping.

“Ah, thank you. But how did you know? I just thought he was a weird guy because he looked unfamiliar.”

I told Jangsam, who looked completely baffled.

“Jangsam, isn’t it obvious just by looking?”

“Not really.”

I pointed with my chin at the assassin’s face.

“Doesn’t it say ‘assassin’ written all over his face?”

“Where? I don’t see it. Guy’s got a narrow forehead, if anything.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“You gotta be able to spot that to join Black Rabbit Pavilion. You useless brat. Worthless. Doesn’t even know the basics of being a Jomsoi.”

“Why are you suddenly insulting me like this?”

“Because that’s who I am.”

Jangsam pulled the dagger out of the broken table and handed it to me.

“Master, take the dagger. From what I can tell, the move where you stuck it in the table then finished things with a sword—now that’s some high-grade psychological warfare.”

“Just a habit, really.”

“Yes, sir.”

As I headed toward Black Rabbit Pavilion, Jangsam asked,

“Master, when the subordinates get here, should I ask them? If they can tell just by looking?”

“If any of them say they can’t, report them to me. They’re lazy bastards who’ve been slacking off in training. They deserve a scolding.”

“Got it.”

***

Jomsoi Jangsam scanned the warriors coming out of Black Rabbit Pavilion with a sharp gaze, then called out to one who looked like the leader.

“Excuse me.”

“What?”

“Does this guy look like an assassin to you? He seems pretty average to me.”

The man responded with a face full of disappointment.

“Isn’t it obvious? You can’t tell?”

“...Sir?”

“You seriously can’t tell? Ugh, pathetic bastard.”

“You don’t even know me. I mean, yeah, I’m kinda pathetic, but…”

The man suddenly straightened his face.

“You’re not Haomun?”

“Me?”

“You don’t make offerings anymore, right?”

“Correct.”

“Then you’re Haomun.”

“Ah, understood.”

The man jabbed his thumb at himself.

“That’s me.”

“What is?”

“I’m the Chief of Haomun. The number two in Haomun. I helped build the foundation of Haomun with our Master from the very start. I’m Cha Seong-tae, the Greatest Sword of Ilyang.”

Jangsam bowed without looking particularly impressed.

“Nice to meet you. So as Chief, you can tell who’s an assassin just by looking at their face, huh?”

Cha Seong-tae nodded.

“That’s who I am.”

Jangsam looked at him and thought to himself.

‘This con artist bastard’s copying Master… He looks like a slacker who loafs around town. How the hell did he become number two?’

Cha Seong-tae said,

“Why are you looking at me like that? You cheeky little Jomsoi.”

“Oh, no. It’s just… ‘That’s who I am’—that’s Master’s signature line. Please stop. It’s unpleasant to hear.”

“You little….”

Cha Seong-tae was about to retort when the Black Rabbit Pavilion warriors started laughing, so he clamped his mouth shut. Looking sheepish, he turned to the corpse being loaded onto a stretcher and said,

“Brothers, that body might be laced with poison. Let’s take it to a secluded place and burn it.”

“Yes, Chief.”

Only then did Cha Seong-tae turn back to Jangsam and ask,

“What’s your name?”

“Jangsam.”

“There’s a good chance other assassins will come and try to figure out how their comrade died. When that happens, take a good look.”

“Take a look? You want me to report it?”

“No, just observe. Don’t do anything dangerous. If they’ve got the same vibe as that dead guy, you’ll recognize it.”

“How will I know?”

“You saw the dead guy’s eyes, right?”

“Yes.”

“Assassins don’t show much emotion, so their eyes always look kinda sunken and flat.”

“Oh… yeah, that’s what it looked like.”

“That’s an assassin.”

Jangsam nodded and looked at Cha ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Seong-tae with eyes full of admiration.

“As expected of you, Chief. You should come by for a drink sometime.”

As Cha Seong-tae walked off somewhere with the Black Rabbit Pavilion warriors, he replied,

“Nice try. Don’t try to hustle me with your sales pitch.”

Jangsam crossed his arms and watched Cha Seong-tae’s back as he walked away.

‘That bastard’s smart… or dumb… I can’t tell. He’s weird. A damn impersonator. Slacker. Disrespects Jomsoi. Fucker…’

***

On the second day, Jangsam sat outside all day, arms crossed, glaring at every passerby.

‘You’re an assassin, aren’t you? Not you. You’re an assassin, right? Your eyes are fishy. Not you. You’re de—’

Jangsam locked eyes with a man and felt a jolt shoot through his chest. All the messy thoughts in his head got sliced through by killing intent, leaving him blank.

‘……’

It felt like if he looked any longer, he’d die.

‘He’s the real deal.’

As Jangsam quickly lowered his head and started wiping the table, the man who’d met his eyes walked straight over.

“Let me ask you something.”

“Ah, yes. Go ahead.”

Jangsam respectfully brought his hands together and looked at the man. The man had a thin longsword at his waist. He looked over the table and the ground before asking,

“That guy who died here yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“Was it in one strike?”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as Jangsam met the man’s gaze again, he quickly looked down.

So this is what it meant to say “he looks normal, but he’s terrifying.”

He had spotted him right away, and now he was thinking—he might actually die here.

“Where was he sitting?”

Jangsam held out his hand.

“There—no, wait—yes, he was sitting right there.”

The guy with “assassin” practically written on his forehead sat down at the newly replaced table and said, trying to suppress his rage,

“Bring me the liquor that guy drank yesterday.”

“Yes, sir.”

Just then, someone came up behind and whispered to the man who ordered the drink.

“Captain, this isn’t right.”

“Stand down.”

When Jangsam placed the Mureung Liquor and dried snacks on the table, the assassin kept his eyes forward and said,

“Jomsoi.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t try to run. Sit still if you don’t want to die. Sit over there.”

Jangsam quietly sat in the spot the assassin pointed to, while the assassin stared down the street Yi Zaha always walked during his strolls.

Then Jangsam glanced at the road and suddenly realized something—there were a lot of unfamiliar people around today.

A man pulling a cart.

A young man selling rice cakes.

A traveling merchant.

All of them had unfamiliar faces. But there was one thing in common—their eyes. The look in their eyes was different. And besides them, there were several others that looked somewhat suspicious, moving up and down the street.

The doubt and suspicion tangled together to the point where he couldn’t tell who was an assassin anymore.

As Jangsam carefully scanned the street, the assassin at the table turned his head and gave him a chilling smile.

“Hey, Jomsoi.”

“Yes.”

“Trying to get yourself killed?”

“Sorry.”

“If you’re a Jomsoi, act like one. Don’t go showing off how quick you are and get yourself caught up in this.”

“Understood.”

Jangsam realized now that what happened yesterday was just the prelude. The one who died probably didn’t even know he’d been used as a sacrifice. It was terrifying—and also strangely fascinating.

Whenever he raised his head, the martial world was right in front of his eyes.

‘This is nuts.’

And then, the assassin, bold as anything, spoke to the front.

“Master, you’ve come.”

“Oh? Did I keep you waiting?”

“Just arrived.”

Jangsam couldn’t help but lift his head. The Pavilion Master of Black Rabbit Pavilion—who often took strolls and liked to buy dumplings—sat right across from the assassin without a hint of fear.

“Jangsam, I’ll have some Dugang Liquor.”

“Yes, sir.”

A moment later, Jangsam set down the Dugang Liquor and heard the Pavilion Master speak.

“Looks like you brought some of your trash with you today.”

“Apologies for the discourtesy. We had no information on you whatsoever. It should’ve been like this from the start.”

“I have more subordinates than you.”

“Assassinations can’t be stopped with headcount. Even if I die, it’ll be a hassle for you for a while.”

“Jangsam, go inside.”

Jangsam snapped out of it at the Pavilion Master’s words.

“Ah, yes.”

As he turned to go inside, he suddenly felt a terrible sense of danger and looked back—just as the assassin grabbed a chopstick and hurled it at him.

But with a sharp whizz, the flying chopstick suddenly veered sharply mid-air and slammed into the ground.

Thunk!

Jangsam stared in shock, then fell on his butt without meaning to. The assassin had tried to kill him with a chopstick, and the Pavilion Master had reached out and twisted its trajectory.

What the hell just happened?

In that instant, the Pavilion Master and the assassin exchanged internal force.

KA-BOOOOM!

Jangsam’s chest heaved as he stared at the two. The assassin had been blown back, crashing through several tables before drawing his sword…

And the Pavilion Master sat there, calmly sipping his Dugang Liquor.

To Jangsam, that moment looked truly unforgettable.

This was the martial world.