The World Before My Eyes.
The assassin gazed at the dagger embedded in the table. 'How could this be...?' Before he could find the words, the target of his assassination spoke.
"Is it the Sword-Disbanding Society, or the First River of the World? Don’t say it’s neither. Spare me the nonsense. I knew from the moment I saw you looking from the building."
"......"
The assassin suddenly recalled various images of Lee Jaha.
The way he stretched lazily, the sight of him staring while holding a dumpling in his mouth, the gaze he cast towards him while talking with Jeomsoui, and the expression he wore when he let Jeomsoui in first and then checked on him...
All of these were just ordinary moments of Lee Jaha's life.
But that was not the case.
Ironically, the most important aspect of the assassin's stance, as valued by the First River of the World, was its naturalness blending into everyday life.
How could the assassin only realize Lee Jaha's calculated actions after seeing the dagger embedded in the table? In other words, even by the standards learned from the First River of the World, a much higher-level opponent stood before him.
Unknowingly, the assassin asked a curious question.
"Was the Hao Sect an assassin organization?" Such words slipped from the lips of a young man.
"You shouldn’t view the world with such a narrow perspective."
I was looking at the assassin I was about to kill when a sense of annoyance washed over me.
Killing him was not bothersome.
However, knowing that this was not the end made it somewhat tiresome.
Either the Sword-Disbanding Society had to be eradicated, or the First River of the World had to be uprooted, so that this kind of person wouldn’t come to me again.
The assassin retorted, "Narrow perspective?"
"It’s normal for a young man to speak rudely to the owner of a dumpling shop and for someone grown to appear foolish while holding a dumpling in their mouth. If someone sings a strange song, it’s typical for a regular person to glance back once. If someone shows no reaction to these three things, it leads to the conclusion that they are not an ordinary man. It’s proof of training. I can see those who have trained better."
Only then did the assassin's expression change.
"It’s not because I’m an assassin that I recognized you. From the beginning, the way I think and see is different from you. Do you understand what I mean?"
I smiled while observing the assassin's expression.
"Killing you isn’t bothersome, but what comes after is. No matter how many times I kill, the leader doesn’t show up easily. But bear with it. Enduring the assassin is also a burden the leader must bear."
I sipped my liquor while looking at the assassin from the First River of the World.
If the conversation flowed a bit, I planned to kill him after it ended.
If the conversation didn’t flow, I would think of killing him right away.
However, seeing the assassin who had come to kill me after a long time brought various thoughts to my mind.
"In the past, the terms assassin and killer were not much different from chivalrous men, you know? Like Jing Ke, who tried to kill the First Emperor. They were recognized."
"Is that so?"
"But you guys kill anyone for money, so the world has changed a lot. Chivalrous men and assassins have grown distant, as if standing on opposite sides of the world. Once, an assassin was a chivalrous man. Now, assassins kill chivalrous men, and chivalrous men kill assassins. What do you think?"
"......"
"Do you have no thoughts? The Hao Sect is not an assassin organization. However, as the leader of that place, I will do the work that was once synonymous with chivalrous men and assassins. Therefore, in a way, I am also somewhat like you, an assassin."
I mimicked the motion of slitting a throat with my hand.
"I can kill well too. We are in the same line of work. So, how about I kill the leader of the First River of the World? It would be just right to prevent pitiful people like you from appearing. No thoughts?"
I took a sip of my liquor.
The assassin seemed tense and couldn’t drink.
It seemed my precious words weren’t reaching his ears.
He was constantly gauging whether he was faster or if my hand was faster, which made me sigh.
Naturally, I was faster.
"Hey, usually assassins are orphans like you. If you’re not an orphan, you’ve probably killed everyone around you to become one. Having a family complicates emotions. It hinders training. That’s how assassin organizations usually operate. So, people like you lack the emotions to understand my words. I feel a bit sorry about that."
I pointed a finger at the assassin.
"It’s right for me to end your life. But you’re not dying because of me; you’re dying because of the one who created the First River of the World. Understand that before you die."
"That is the life of an assassin."
"Is it a life where one dies following orders?"
"That’s right."
"No one needs to live like that."
"I’ve already spilled too much blood, so who can I blame?"
"What a pathetic life. What I want to know is the main base of the First River of the World. If you can’t tell me, draw your sword. You’re making my stroll longer."
The assassin’s gaze fell, and he checked the dagger embedded in the table. "…."
Just as that gaze shifted back to me, I drew out the Black Cat from beneath the table.
My own interpretation of the sword-drawing technique.
Swish—! As the blade struck the table, I infused it with energy, and when the Black Cat, having split the table, bared its fangs, I wrapped it in the energy of death.
As the assassin, unable to draw anything, felt a red line etched across his body, blood engulfed in flames erupted with a sizzling sound.
Blood surged late.
Thud! The assassin, awkwardly rising with strength in his legs, fell backward, his upper body sliced at an angle.
With a thud, his upper body split into two pieces.
I shook off the blood from the blade’s tip and then sheathed the Black Cat.
The expression on the assassin’s face was more one of doubt than pain.
In such moments, killing without pain is mercy.
I felt more anger towards the dead than towards the assassin; bad feelings towards the First River of the World and the Sword-Disbanding Society piled up like a tower in an instant.
As a river of rage surged within me, Jeomsoui, dressed in a long robe, rushed out, looking startled as he asked me, "Lord?"
"Yes."
"Was he an assassin?"
"Yes."
I watched Jeomsoui approach the corpse.
"Don’t touch it. There might be poison in the clothing or mouth. You shouldn’t even touch a corpse like this."
"Yes."
"I’ll send my subordinates to clean it up right away, so leave it as it is for now. Take this."
I handed Jeomsoui a silver coin.
"For the liquor and table."
"Why are you giving me so much?"
"I’m giving it in advance. Similar events will happen often. For a while, I’ll intentionally take strolls frequently."
It would be more comfortable to wander around in broad daylight than to be ambushed by an assassin while sleeping.
"Ah, yes. Thank you. But how did you know? I just thought he was a strange man."
I said to Jeomsoui, who wore a puzzled expression, "Jeomsoui, can’t you tell at a glance?"
"I can’t."
I gestured towards the assassin’s face.
"Can’t you see it clearly? It’s written all over his face that he’s an assassin."
"Where? It’s not written anywhere. His forehead is narrow."
"You need to recognize that to enter the Black Cat Sect. You’re a foolish, pathetic, useless person who doesn’t even know the basics of Jeomsoui."
"Why are you suddenly criticizing me?"
"That’s just who I am."
Jeomsoui pulled out the dagger stuck in the fallen table and handed it to me.
"Lord, take the dagger. It seems you embedded it in the table and then finished it off with a sudden strike! This is quite a sophisticated psychological tactic, isn’t it?"
"It’s just a habit."
"Yes."
As I headed towards the Black Cat Sect, Jeomsoui asked me, "Lord, when my subordinates come, should I ask them? Can they tell at a glance?"
"If anyone says they can’t tell, report it to me. They’re a foolish person who’s been lazy in their training. They need to be punished."
"Understood."
Jeomsoui, with sharp eyes, sat outside for two days, crossing his arms while glaring at passersby. 'Are you an assassin? No, you’re not.
Are you an assassin? Your eyes are like a fish.
You clearly don’t look like one.
You are an assassin...'
Jeomsoui accidentally made eye contact with a man and felt a chill run down his spine.
All his random thoughts were suddenly torn apart, and he couldn’t think of anything. '......'
He felt that if he looked any longer, he might die. 'He’s really an assassin.'
While Jeomsoui hurriedly lowered his head to wipe the table, the man approached him directly.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Ah, yes. Please go ahead."
Jeomsoui looked at the man with both hands respectfully clasped.
The man, wearing a thin long sword at his waist, examined the table and the ground before asking, "About the person who died here yesterday."
"Yes."
"Did he die in one strike?"
"That’s correct."
As soon as Jeomsoui made eye contact with the man, he lowered his head again.
He realized what it meant to feel 'ordinary but scary.' He could tell at a glance, but Jeomsoui thought he might die here.
"Where were you sitting?" Jeomsoui extended his hand.
"There, no. Yes, you were sitting there."
The man, who had 'assassin' written on his forehead, sat at the newly arranged table and spoke to Jeomsoui in a suppressed tone.
"Bring me the liquor that the dead man drank yesterday."
"Yes."
At that moment, someone approached and whispered to the man who had ordered the liquor.
"Captain, you shouldn’t do this."
"Get lost."
As Jeomsoui placed the liquor and dried snacks on the table, the assassin kept his eyes fixed ahead and said, "Jeomsoui."
"Yes."
"Don’t run away; stay still. If you don’t want to die, sit in that spot."
Jeomsoui quietly sat in the spot the assassin pointed to, while the assassin was watching the path that Lee Jaha usually walked during his strolls.
Suddenly, Jeomsoui noticed that there were many unfamiliar faces he had never seen in this neighborhood before.
A man pulling a cart.
A young man selling rice cakes.
A peddler.
All unfamiliar faces, but they had one thing in common.
Their gazes were different.
In addition, there were also ambiguous unfamiliar men passing through the streets.
Doubt and certainty mixed together, and now it was hard to tell who the assassin was.
As Jeomsoui carefully observed the street, the assassin sitting at the table turned his head and smiled chillingly.
"Hey, Jeomsoui."
"Yes."
"Do you want to die right now?"
"I’m sorry."
"Act like a Jeomsoui. Don’t show that you’re quick-witted and get caught up in death."
"Understood."
Jeomsoui realized that what had happened yesterday was merely a prelude.
The dead man probably didn’t even know he was a sacrificial lamb.
It was terrifying and intriguing.
Whenever he raised his head, the world before him was the realm of martial artists. 'This is maddening.'
In the midst of this, the assassin who had come openly spoke towards the front.
"Leader, please come quickly."
"Oh, have you been waiting long?"
"I just arrived."
Jeomsoui had no choice but to raise his head.
The lord of the Black Cat Sect, who often strolled alone and occasionally bought dumplings, sat boldly across the table.
"Jeomsoui, I’ll have the liquor."
"Understood."
A moment later, as Jeomsoui placed the liquor down, he heard the lord say, "It seems you brought some riffraff today."
"I’ve made many mistakes. I had no information about you at all. It should have been like this from the start."
"I have more subordinates."
"How can you block an assassination with mere numbers? Even if I die, it will be a bit troublesome for a while."
"Jeomsoui, you stay inside."
Jeomsoui snapped to attention at the lord’s words.
"Ah, yes."
As Jeomsoui turned to go inside, he suddenly felt a sense of foreboding and looked back just as the assassin grabbed a pair of chopsticks and hurled them at him.
But with a whoosh, the flying chopsticks suddenly changed direction mid-air and embedded themselves in the ground.
Thud! Jeomsoui stared blankly, and before he knew it, he fell on his backside.
The assassin had tried to kill him with chopsticks, and the lord had reached out to twist the direction of the chopsticks.
What on earth was happening? In that moment, the lord and the assassin exchanged tension.
Boom! Jeomsoui’s chest heaved as he watched the lord and the assassin.
The assassin, having smashed through several tables, drew his sword, but... the lord was leisurely sipping his liquor.
To Jeomsoui’s eyes, that scene was truly impressive. 'This is the realm of martial artists.'