Chapter 15: Chapter 15

“What. Why.”

Mao glanced sidelong at the shattered window, swallowed dry, and asked. He wasn’t scared. He’d simply realized that Jang I-seo was no ordinary madman.

But contrary to expectations, the man beamed warmly.

“Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“I did what an adjutant must do.”

“Hey, you! You just provoked the Ma family. That bastard is I-sin’s loyal dog. Don’t pretend you don’t know what that means.”

“Right. Shall we head to the palace now?”

“AAAAAAGH! Listen carefully. Pack your bags right now and leave Wolha Village. Go back to the Counter-Espionage Division, or leave Cheonsan for Hainan where no one will find you. Anything. Just never come back.”

If you don’t want to die.

Mao delivered the brutal dismissal and headed for the door. Jang I-seo clicked his tongue, scratched his eyebrow, and spoke.

“Why should I?”

“Why? Hahaha! Because you’ll die if you don’t. Assassin bastards will be targeting you from here on. Not just any assassins, either. the Slaughterhouse. Those demons. In a few days, you’ll be floating facedown on that black lake.”

“Shall we make a bet?”

“What bet?”

“A bet on whether I survive here in Wolha Village.”

“What?”

“If I survive, you stop complaining and let me serve as the Seventh Young Master’s adjutant.”

Hah. A breath of disbelief escaped Mao. Was he seriously saying this? The Slaughterhouse was the Demonic Cult’s premier assassination outfit. “Assassins” was generous. For the right price, there was no atrocity they wouldn’t commit.

And he’d survive? A commoner like him?

“Hahahaha! Fine. If you survive. Then I’ll do whatever you say.”

A bitter smile settled on Mao’s lips. His eyes held not a sliver of hope, only cold certainty. But Jang I-seo’s gaze, meeting his, was more serious than ever.

“No backing out when the time comes.”

“Obviously.”

Their eyes locked in midair. A man’s word was worth a thousand pieces of gold. Jang I-seo presented the pledge as if extracting a sacred oath.

“A man’s word.”

Mao answered with equal conviction.

“A man’s word!”

Fuck… Whatever. Count it as a promise secured. Jang I-seo nodded. Mao walked back toward the exit and delivered one final warning.

“Don’t be a hero. Just leave. I’m sick of watching people die beside me.”

And with that, Mao departed. Left alone, Jang I-seo surveyed the wrecked room and muttered.

“Where would I even go? You, your sister, and your precious Ma family. You think I’m leaving before I’ve stripped Cheonsan to the bone? Not a chance, kid. Got it?”

Smirk.

A deep smile settled on Jang I-seo’s lips.

* * *

– Martial Alliance Hubei Branch, Hidden Pavilion.

“Is this it? No, not this one.”

A beautiful woman sat cross-legged on the dark floor, sifting through documents scattered so thickly there wasn’t room to set a foot down.

Jegal So-mi. Vice Pavilion Master of the Hidden Pavilion, known throughout the Gangho as the intellectual flower Ji-hwa.

Normally, this would be quitting time. She’d have finished her paperwork and been waiting for Jegal Sang like a docile cat. Instead, she’d been working late every day lately.

Not because anyone ordered it. By choice.

“Ahem, So-mi. Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

“Ah, Grandfather. Go on ahead. I still have more to look through.”

“Ho ho, there’s a time for everything. Resting when it’s time to rest is how you improve efficiency, as I’ve told you time and again…”

“You just don’t want to walk home alone. Pavilion Master, please separate public and private matters. I’m busy.”

“Ahem… What exactly are you doing?”

Jegal Sang ducked his head apologetically and shuffled over to crouch beside her. His eyes brightened as he examined the documents she’d sorted.

“These are the Demonic Cult’s shadow organizations.”

“Yes.”

The Demonic Cult’s official structure placed the Radiant Left and Right Emissaries and the Seven Young Masters beneath the Heavenly Demon’s Throne. Below them sat the Elder Council and the Five Dragon Halls, with over a hundred smaller outfits.

But this was merely the tip of the iceberg known to the outside world.

In reality, countless families and clandestine organizations operated in the shadows.

And what Jegal So-mi had been burning the midnight oil to uncover was…

“Found it.”

Slaughter. Kill.

“The Slaughterhouse?!”

Indeed. Smiling broadly, she held up the document she’d finally unearthed. It contained records of the Slaughterhouse, officially registered as a Demonic Cult assassination unit.

Jegal Sang’s curiosity deepened.

“Isn’t the Slaughterhouse run by the Sa brothers, reclusive experts within the cult?”

“Yes. Their brutality is the stuff of legend. Among ordinary cult members in Cheonsan, they’re said to be feared more than the Cult Leader himself. Their skill reportedly rivals any Division Commander.”

“True enough. But why them?”

At Jegal Sang’s question, Jegal So-mi scowled petulantly. He’d said enough. The rest she needed to figure out herself.

“Let’s see.”

Jegal Sang chuckled with interest and examined the documents spread across the floor more closely.

Then he found a common thread.

“It’s all about the Ma family. Among the Slaughterhouse’s Sa brothers, the younger one, Sa Ho-jeong, once owed his life to the eldest son, Ma I-sin.”

“Yes. Sa Ho-jeong foolishly crossed someone who happened to be the Golden Dragon Hall Master’s nephew. Ma I-sin mediated and saved his neck.”

“Hmm, I remember now.”

But why connect that to this? Jegal Sang tilted his head. Jegal So-mi smiled smugly. Figure it out yourself, Grandfather.

Narrowing his eyes at her impudence, Jegal Sang fell into thought.

“The Slaughterhouse… They were the ones who killed the Seventh Young Master’s servants in the past. The Guardian Dragon Hall identified them as suspects, but strangely, the matter was hushed up without punishment.”

“Exactly! I believe the client was the Seventh Young Master’s brother, Ma I-sin.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It was a warning. A message telling his bastard brother, whose status had skyrocketed overnight, not to get ideas above his station.”

Jegal Sang let out a low sigh. Which meant…

“Then the same fate could befall Agent 103, who just entered the Seventh Small Palace.”

“If my theory is correct. And that man…”

A dark shadow fell over Jegal So-mi’s face.

Through her exhaustive investigation into Agent 103, she’d discovered that he possessed the Nine-Orifice Body, a congenital limitation. No matter how hard he trained, he could never ascend to the absolute realm. A crippling constraint.

And if such a man clashed with the deadly Slaughterhouse? Certain defeat. No. Certain death.

“You’ve been working so diligently lately. Was it all because of Agent 103?”

Jegal Sang’s sudden question made Jegal So-mi stammer.

“Ah, well… I was just curious. And one thing led to another…”

“What. Are you taken with him? Restrain yourself. An operative must never develop feelings.”

“Grandfather! It’s nothing like that.”

“Ho ho. And there’s no need for you to worry, either. So let’s go home now.”

“No need? What do you mean?”

He wasn’t the type to give away answers so easily, but eager to get home tonight, he obliged.

“Do you know of the Wind Forest of Guizhou?”

“Wind… Forest? You don’t mean the assassination group that vanished about ten years ago?”

Jegal Sang nodded. Jegal So-mi gasped. Wind Forest had been a renowned assassin syndicate that had endured across generations.

But why bring them up?

“When Agent 103 first entered the Demonic Cult, the very first report he sent back contained just three characters.”

Jegal So-mi furrowed her brow. Jegal Sang laughed heartily and enunciated each one.

“Wind. Forest. Destroyed.”

“Good heavens.”

“The boy was nineteen at the time. Heh heh. Working in the Counter-Espionage Division, you accumulate grudges here and there. Wind Forest made the mistake of targeting him. Their last mistake.”

Jegal So-mi’s jaw hung open. How? With a Nine-Orifice Body? No matter how exceptional a spy the Hidden Pavilion had trained, how could he possibly…

“So don’t worry. Let’s go home. Ho ho ho!”

With a hearty laugh, Jegal Sang strode out. Jegal So-mi glanced at the Slaughterhouse document in her hand, set it down on the floor, and followed.

“Wait for me, Grandfather!”

If the greatest mind under heaven, Jegal Sang, said there was nothing to worry about, she could sleep soundly.

Though her curiosity about Agent 103 was another matter entirely.

* * *

– Chiseonru, Eighth Floor.

“Welcome back. You’ve worked hard.”

Hong-ran had prepared a fine spread and greeted Jang I-seo as he arrived from finishing his business.

But his expression was grim.

“Things didn’t go well, I take it.”

“Yeah. Terribly.”

At his blunt answer, a shadow crossed Chwi Hong-ran’s face. She had a general idea of the situation. While investigating Mao, she’d learned about the toxic history between him and his family.

Especially how they sabotaged him at every turn, unwilling to let a bastard son rise even slightly.

That was likely what had sparked the fight.

But,

“Jin-gu’s friends took the sword. Two hundred fifty nyang of silver. My plan to collect the drinking tab… evaporated. If I’d known I couldn’t collect, I wouldn’t have needed to smash the door and the window. That’s what really burns me.”

BANG! Jang I-seo struck the table timidly, careful not to damage it. Chwi Hong-ran stared blankly before bursting into laughter behind her hand.

Then she ducked her head, face flushing crimson.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You think it’s funny. Of course you do. I think so too. Why did I let it slip? Hah. How am I going to recover this?”

A truly incomprehensible man. He’d just ignited a war with the Ma family, yet his head was filled entirely with thoughts of uncollected silver.

Glug, glug.

Chwi Hong-ran quietly refilled his cup to help him calm down. Jang I-seo nodded his thanks and tossed it back in one go.

Kya. Bitter.

He clicked his tongue, then dropped a bolt from the blue.

“Close the shop starting tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?”

“Assassins from the Slaughterhouse are coming.”

Hong-ran raised a hand to her parted lips in composure. What was he saying? Slaughterhouse assassins?

“From what I hear, the Slaughterhouse’s Sa brothers are close with Ma I-sin. They’ve gone after people around the Seventh Young Master before.”

“Then the incident where the servants were murdered… the Slaughterhouse was behind all of it?”

Jang I-seo nodded. Truthfully, he hadn’t known this either.

The source had been none other than Yong-tae, boss of the Black Dragon Faction.

‘So you might already know, but I was in the Guardian Dragon Hall, a Sixth Grade Ghost, one rank above a Seventh. Yes, sorry. Anyway, back then…’

He’d recounted how, during his time in the Guardian Dragon Hall, the incident where all of Mao’s servants were massacred had occurred.

The Guardian Dragon Hall, responsible for security and protection, had classified it as a top-priority case. A special task force had been formed, and their investigation had pinpointed the Sa brothers.

But.

“It was buried. According to Yong-tae, it looked like the ‘Bloodless Duke’ Ma I-sin had pulled strings. The higher-ups decided it was a family matter best resolved internally.”

“How could…”

No matter how much they despised him, he was still family. Sending assassins to sabotage their own blood?

“Then the Slaughterhouse coming this time means…”

Chwi Hong-ran shook her head, refusing to believe it. But ominous premonitions had a way of coming true.

“Yes. They’re coming for me.”

The thunderbolt fell from Jang I-seo’s lips.