Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Nineteen years ago, the Gangho was a wasteland of carnage.

The war known as the War of the Righteous, Unorthodox, and Demonic had been a senseless bloodbath with no distinction between friend and foe. Blades clashed constantly, and countless clans were wiped from existence.

Famine compounded the devastation, and bandit gangs ran rampant across the land.

Some called it the Dark Age. Others prophesied the end of all things.

But just as night gives way to dawn, and flowers trampled in winter bloom again in spring.

A miracle happened.

Martial Alliance Lord Hyeon Cheong, Unorthodox Alliance Leader Tak Il-jo, and the Heavenly Demon Jin U-gwang.

Three absolute beings gathered at Cheonsan and declared an era of harmony and exchange.

And so the Gangho lowered its blades and clasped hands. Boundaries crumbled, and the factions joined forces to rebuild.

Yesterday’s enemies became today’s allies, and peace was restored at last.

And nineteen years passed.

The Gangho of today has risen above its pain and entered a new golden age.

The Righteous, the Unorthodox, and the Demonic, all three factions stronger than ever, their influence radiating far and wide.

But they had overlooked one thing.

The visible blades had vanished, but countless spies had seeped into each other’s shadows.

And so we came to call this age by a new name.

The Age of Spies.

* * *

– Cheonsan.

BANG! The wooden door splintered off its hinges with a single kick.

The bastard inside jolted awake, scanning his surroundings with a dazed expression. I pointed forward and gave the order.

“Die.”

“Sir!” The acknowledgment erupted from behind as masked subordinates fanned out like shadows spreading in every direction, pouring into the house.

“What is the meaning of this!”

“Finally come to your senses, have you?”

“You dare! Do you know who I am, pulling this stunt at the crack of dawn!”

Not worth another word. Clack. I pulled a token from my robes and tossed it to the floor. The characters carved into the red jade read: Counter-Espionage. Counter. Espionage.

“Heugh!”

That’s right. The ghost who hunts spies.

I am Jang I-seo, Third Squad Leader of the Counter-Espionage Division.

Twenty-eight this year, born in the Year of the Dog. Still single.

Unremarkable features, nothing special. I like power. I work, collect my pay, and live an utterly ordinary life as a martial artist.

Oh, of course.

“Supreme Heavenly Demon! All demons bow!”

The organization I belong to is a little special.

He prostrated himself respectfully, raising the token with both hands, and shouted the chant. Anyone who’d seen the Counter-Espionage Token bestowed by the Cult Leader would do exactly the same.

Yes, the thought crossing your mind right now is correct.

The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.

“At ease.”

“At ease!”

A martial religious order steeped in secrets, located in Cheonsan.

That’s right. I belong to the Demonic Cult.

And the reason I came here today comes down to one thing.

“Yong-u, Fifth Grade Ghost, Vice Commander of the Supply Division. I’ve come based on a report. Cooperate.”

I delivered the line with measured authority as I passed the pale-faced bastard.

By rank, he stood two grades above me. But I was living authority incarnate. The reaper of spies. Third Squad Leader of the Counter-Espionage Division under the direct command of the Cult Leader, Jang I-seo.

And I’ll say it again: I like power.

“A, a report?! Listen here, I’m no spy!”

“‘Listen here’?”

“Aren’t you a Seventh Grade Ghost? I’m a Fifth Grade Ghost! Counter-Espionage Division or not, there’s a chain of command. I’ll file a formal complaint right now and…”

“Where’s that dog barking?”

“What?”

I surveyed the surroundings irritably. My subordinates were opening every cabinet one by one, searching with meticulous care. What is this, a fucking archaeological dig?

“At this rate, when are you going to find anything? You planning to sleep here? Search every inch!”

“Sir!” CRASH! CLATTER! The subordinates bellowed their acknowledgment and began smashing furniture with abandon.

“Ah-ah-ah! That’s my prized porcelain… no, don’t!”

CRASH! Yes, that’s the sound. The sound of your sanity cracking. As the corners of my mouth curled up, I glanced sideways. Yong-u was pleading with tearful eyes.

“My lord… why are you doing this to me?”

There we go. I clicked my tongue at the repulsive man and snatched the token he held up so carefully.

“If you’re innocent, cooperate. Then this will be over soon.”

“Whatever it is, you’ve been misinformed. No one follows the cult’s teachings more devoutly than I do. A spy? Me?”

“Would admitting it make you a spy? Whether the evidence is shoved in your face or a blade down your throat, a real spy bastard denies it even in death.”

“I truly haven’t done any spying. Could it be… because I skimmed some military supplies? That’s customary practice… Ah, I understand. I’ll give it all to you. It’s in the basement, so please… have mercy.”

Bastard. Singing like a canary now that he’s cornered. I clicked my tongue and whispered in his ear.

“Want to know how you ended up like this?”

“Tell me. Why are you doing this to me! I’m truly innocent. I’ve dedicated my whole life to this cult more than anyone.”

Yeah. That’s the problem. I scratched my brow in annoyance.

“Two weeks ago, you went to Yangyang and raped a woman. Did you, or didn’t you.”

“Th-that!”

“A week ago, you went to Hubei and raided a merchant caravan. Did you, or didn’t you. Killed thirteen people, if I recall.”

“No… that’s…!”

The bastard wore a bewildered expression.

“Doesn’t everyone do it? Why bring it up now of all things?”

Look at this son of a bitch. Yeah. He’s right. For a Demonic Cult bastard like you, it’s nothing unusual. But,

“A report came in that those people were affiliated with the Martial Alliance. Said you approached them to make contact as their spy.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense! What kind of insane spy kills and rapes his own contact!”

“Who knows. Could be your faction’s insidious way of deflecting suspicion. Spies these days are quite sophisticated.”

“Is this a joke? Who is it? Who the hell filed such a ridiculous report!”

Curious? That would be me.

“Found it, sir! A secret letter bearing the Martial Alliance’s official seal.”

“Impossible!”

Yong-u screamed in indignation. But right and wrong weren’t his to decide.

“Good.”

I nodded and produced an edict from my robes.

“Yong-u, Fifth Grade Ghost. Based on the spy documents found on-site, identified as a Martial Alliance spy.”

“It wasn’t me! I’m telling you it wasn’t, you bastards!”

Pitter-patter! He bolted frantically for the front door. Snap. I closed the edict.

“He didn’t even stay to hear the rest.”

But I know too. That you weren’t a spy. If a man with nothing but depravity left in him doesn’t belong to the Demonic Cult, who does?

Right.

The spy wasn’t you.

The spy was me.

“Counter-Espionage Division Third Squad Leader Jang I-seo. By cult doctrine, I execute a fleeing spy.”

As I finished speaking, I pivoted sharply and hurled a white flying dagger, the only blade concealed in my wrist guard.

FWISH!

A streak of white light shot forth like lightning. Thud! It pierced clean through his skull.

“Geh.”

Yong-u collapsed forward with a dying gasp, not even making it past the doorway.

Gulps. My subordinates swallowed dry at the brutality.

I yanked the steel wire connecting the dagger to my wrist, snatching the blade back with a snap.

“Returning to base.”

“Sir!”

My name is Jang I-seo.

Third Squad Leader of the Demonic Cult’s Counter-Espionage Division, tasked with purging spies within the cult…

‘Yong-u. I’ll put the money you stashed away to good use.’

And a spy from the Martial Alliance.

*

Somewhere in Cheonsan.

After completing my mission, as the sun began to dip, I stopped in front of a crumbling abandoned house at the edge of a cliff halfway up the mountain.

Caw, caw.

Who would live in a place greeted only by crows? That would be me. Jang I-seo.

“Good work.”

I said it plainly, facing forward. Rattle, rattle. A black giant pulling a cart came to stand beside me.

His name was Heuk-geo.

Originally from a foreign land, he’d been brought into the Demonic Cult as a black slave. But I’d seen something in him and recruited him into my squad.

For a fair price, his work was clean and efficient. Top-notch.

Chink. I tossed him a heavy coin pouch.

“Thank you, Squad Leader.”

He always spoke informally. I gave a slight chin nod to the man who still struggled with the language. He set down the cart and turned back.

If you hike down for half a day from here, there’s a small settlement at the foot of the mountain. Heuk-geo and his people lived clustered there. Most cult members did. Those who lived alone and isolated like me were extremely rare.

Either lunatics practicing deranged demonic arts.

Or bastards with too much to hide. Like me.

Creeeak.

I opened the rickety wooden door, its lock laughably flimsy, with extreme care.

On the surface, it looked shoddy enough that a thief could walk in and out without a trace. But inside, I’d set up my own special countermeasures.

First, a strand of hair draped across the door frame.

I swept my index finger across the spot I’d designated, inspecting it as I carefully opened the door.

Still there.

Meaning no one had entered through this door.

I pushed the door wide open to secure an escape route, then stepped inside. I silently scanned the interior. Checked the dining table’s position. Checked the creases in the rumpled rug. Checked the cobwebs by the window.

All untouched.

Only then did I release a shallow breath and bring the cart inside.

I whipped back the cloth covering the cart, and bright golden light struck my eyes. Gold bars. A whole pile of them.

“Bastard. You really skimmed a fortune.”

My lips twitched. This was the slush fund Yong-u had been hoarding. Once again, I’d picked the right prey.

I let out a sigh, unbuckled the wrist guard holding my flying daggers, and flopped onto the bed.

Fourteen years since I slipped into Cheonsan.

By now, I could barely remember what kind of place the Martial Alliance had been.

Honestly, even being a Martial Alliance spy felt foreign.

Naturally. Ever since I entered this Demonic Cult, all contact had been completely severed.

Thump, thump, thump.

If not for the loneliness parasitizing this heart, I might have forgotten everything and lived on.

“Could they all be dead?”

I shook my head involuntarily. Impossible. I knew what kind of people they were.

The ones who sent me here were among the highest echelon of the Martial Alliance.

Nineteen years ago, after the peace accord, a secret organization had been formed by the Alliance Lord and a handful of top executives, preparing for the future.

They called it the Hidden Pavilion.

I was a special operative who had survived training more brutal than hell before being deployed.

On the condition that I would carry out a single mission, and a single mission only.

“Then where the hell is my mission! Are you bastards doing this on purpose?”

Damn it all. I don’t know. There was a time when I was drunk on justice, but now, whether I’d sunk into nihilism or what. The thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just live out the rest of my days like this crossed my mind more often than not.

“Catching scum is the same wherever you go. The pay here is good. No training to do, no one breathing down your neck. And the money’s great.”

I laced my hands behind my head and glanced at the cart, feeling good. My only family was my younger brother, and thanks to the conditions I’d set for coming here, he’d been placed in a reputable sect and was living a charmed life.

So for me, this place was…

FWIP!

I bolted upright without a sound and grabbed the short sword resting on the shelf first. Footsteps outside. Light and refined, like a feather brushing the ground. An expert. But no one could evade my sharpened senses.

No one coming at this hour could have good intentions.

I drew the short sword silently, closed my eyes, and focused. Where? Above!

FWASH!

I sprang straight up, stepped off the wall cabinet, and ricocheted toward the ceiling. I grabbed the wooden beam supporting the roof, spun, and kicked through the roof, launching into the air.

THUD!

I hit something. No, he blocked it?

As I landed and tried to identify my opponent, the masked man who’d deflected my strike with nothing but a scabbard kicked the shattered wood splinters at me like hidden projectiles.

“You bastard.”

I spun backward to evade, simultaneously reaching for the flying dagger hidden in my wrist guard. But,

‘Damn it, they’re gone?!’

The memory of having unbuckled my wrist guard hit me belatedly. I landed behind and looked up, but the masked man had already vanished.

“…Who was that? That wasn’t ordinary skill. At minimum, Hall Master level.”

I looked down. A shallow cut on my forearm. The kicked splinters had been a feint. He’d slipped a fast sword strike through the gap. If I hadn’t deflected it with the back of my hand mid-spin, it would have pierced my throat.

“If he ran, he wasn’t here to kill. Could he have come to test my skills?”

As I tilted my head in bewilderment.

Something unfamiliar caught my eye on the roof floor. A letter, pinned by a flying dagger.

【Hidden Pavilion】

“Th-this is!”

Fourteen years since I entered the Demonic Cult.

At last, the single mission meant for me, the spy, had arrived.

【Make the Seventh Young Master the Young Cult Leader.】

“The Seventh Young Master…?!”

And an absolutely impossible, dog-shit mission at that.

“That bastard… he’s a good-for-nothing piece of trash the Cult Leader himself gave up on!”

This is insane!

“Aaaagh!”

Jang I-seo, Martial Alliance Hidden Pavilion operative.

Turning the good-for-nothing Seventh Young Master into the Young Cult Leader.

It begins.