Chapter 652
Rustle.
Sama Pyo already knew. What was shaking the dense thicket wasn’t merely the passing wind.
He could feel it—dozens of killing intents aimed at him like invisible blades.
“Uninvited guests who don’t even bother to speak when asked…”
Clicking his tongue lightly, Sama Pyo let his trusted weapon, the Black Dragon Blade, hang loosely from his hand as he muttered,
“No guest is worse than one like you. Come out. Let’s at least talk face to face.”
But instead of an answer, over a dozen flying daggers came his way.
Swae-ae-aeak! Clang!
The Black Dragon Blade flashed like lightning, deflecting the daggers with precision. Sama Pyo spun smoothly on his heel, and the blade aura swirling around the black steel erupted into a violent gale that tore through the brush.
Swish! Slash!
Hundreds of leaves were shredded into fragments and scattered through the air. A massive tree nearby split open with a faint line across its trunk.
Srrrk. Thud!
The towering tree fell silently. Sama Pyo stepped lightly over it and turned his gaze toward the figures advancing into the clearing.
From every direction—east, west, south, and north—roughly thirty masked figures surrounded the pavilion, closing in like a tightening net.
“Even showing your faces seems too much effort. You barge in without permission—least you could do is take off those masks and apologize.”
He accepted the situation calmly.
Masked intruders appearing at such a late hour, greeting him with daggers instead of words—it was painfully clear what their intent was.
‘And of course… this happens when he’s gone.’
He thought of a certain foul-mouthed troublemaker who never kept still—his superior, Jin Taekyung.
‘That bastard…’
As reckless as he was, in moments like this, there was no one more reliable.
At just twenty-two, Jin Taekyung had already carved his name into Murim’s history as a monster among men.
But whether by coincidence or fate, Jin Taekyung was currently away.
If Song Ilseom and Ju Hwaran were still here, they would’ve been an immense help—and even Hyuk Mu-jin, though not at their level, could at least hold his own.
Right now, only Sama Pyo remained awake. The others were either asleep, like Taesan, or too old to fight—like Nam Ho.
On the other hand, there were nearly thirty enemies.
‘No, numbers aren’t the problem.’
Sama Pyo’s eyes scanned the surroundings quickly. The enemies’ auras closing in like a net were far from those of common martial artists.
‘In Murim terms, each one’s at least top-class, some even peak-level. Where the hell did such people come from in the Southern Barbarian lands?’
Even in the vast Central Plains, warriors of that level were rare among countless martial artists.
Yet here, in the faraway Southern Barbarian Region, thirty of them had appeared at once.
It was no wonder Sama Pyo found it alarming.
Especially since this was technically part of the inner territory of the Beast Miao Palace.
“Who are you?”
Swae-ae-aeak! Crash!
Instead of answering, a short spear whizzed past his neck, smashing through the pavilion door behind him.
And that was the signal for battle.
Papat!
Shuriken and arrows flew through the dim moonlight, followed by shadows charging in like lightning.
At the same time, Sama Pyo’s Black Dragon Blade sliced through the air.
Swoosh! Slash!
Fierce blade energy cut down the projectiles, tearing apart the fiery net. As he broke through, blades from both sides struck toward him.
Whish!
Their cooperation was flawless—targeting his vital points with perfect timing.
Had Sama Pyo been an ordinary top expert, he would have been gravely injured or dead already.
But Sama Pyo was different.
He wasn’t an inexperienced novice nor a stiff orthodox master.
The greatest virtue of the Demonic Path was survival.
Thunk. Crack!
With dull impacts, the two attackers who had flanked him collapsed like rotten logs.
Their eyes widened beneath their masks, and short arrows were buried deep between their brows.
‘Got them.’
Even in this sweltering heat, Sama Pyo wore a light robe instead of standard martial attire—for a simple reason.
The wide sleeves hid his miniature crossbows.
With a twist of his wrist, the spring-loaded mechanism would fire arrows instantly. Simple in design, but deadly in unexpected situations.
“Idiots.”
He spat out the word like venom, pulling the two falling bodies in front of him to use as shields.
Shunk! Shunk!
A rain of darts and arrows shredded the corpses he had just positioned. Through the gap between the dead bodies, Sama Pyo raised his sleeve again.
Click. Thwip!
But the enemies had learned quickly.
Having seen arrows pierce their comrades’ brows twice already, they wouldn’t fall for the same trick again.
‘Then…’
Thud.
Sama Pyo’s decision was instant.
He released the device hidden in his sleeve and let out a sharp roar as he charged forward.
“Taesan!”
Swish!
The remaining twenty-seven masked men surrounded him like wolves.
Boom!
Meanwhile, inside the pavilion, Nam Ho—who had been tossing and turning—suddenly opened his eyes.
‘Which bastard is it this time?’
Old age came with countless inconveniences, but worst of all was sleeplessness.
And now someone dared disturb the precious sleep of an eighty-year-old man.
Groaning as he stood up with creaky joints, Nam Ho swore to himself.
‘If that glutton Taesan woke me up for a midnight snack again, I swear I won’t let him off easily this time.’
After all, he had fifty years of experience serving in the Silver Shadow Pavilion.
He’d given body and soul during the Great War of Justice and Evil. If he sent a letter to Henan accusing Taesan of colluding with Dark Heaven, even the Immortal King himself might turn a blind eye once.
‘Would they believe me if I said he’s one of Dark Heaven’s spies?’
But such thoughts vanished quickly as a loud crash echoed from outside.
“Taesan!”
Swish! Clang!
Cha-cha-cha-chang!
Looking out the window, Nam Ho rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
But what he saw wasn’t a dream.
A streak of sword energy narrowly missed Sama Pyo and slashed past the window where Nam Ho stood.
Slash! Boom!
And finally, Nam Ho understood.
‘An ambush!’
A perfectly planned one.
They had attacked at the exact moment when that crazy Jin Taekyung was gone.
‘Damn it all… who the hell planned this?’
His irritation about being woken up no longer mattered. In moments, it wouldn’t be sleep but decapitation he’d have to worry about.
Sama Pyo was fighting valiantly, but it was clear he would fall under the sheer number of enemies.
And then—
Papat!
Several masked men slipped past Sama Pyo and approached the pavilion.
Nam Ho didn’t hesitate.
‘Damn it!’
Despite his age, he moved with surprising speed, rushing out of the room and down the hall.
Bang!
He threw open the closed door at the end.
“Ambush! We’re under attack! Your master’s—”
“Kuuhhh… snore…”
“Hey, you damn pig!”
“Kuhaaa…!”
Nam Ho couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
‘He’s still asleep? In this situation?!’
Outside, steel clashed and walls collapsed, yet the mountain of a man known as Taesan slept soundly, even snoring.
“You brat! Wake up right now!”
Thwack! Thwack-thwack!
He pounded Taesan’s chin with his frail fists, shouting at the top of his lungs.
And as if heaven itself was moved by his devotion, Taesan finally stirred.
“Mm… Taesan…”
“Yes! That’s right! Wake up!”
“Mmm… Mosquito… go away…”
“You son of a—!”
It was almost a cry of despair.
Tears welled up in Nam Ho’s eyes.
Then, through the open window, three shadows slipped into the room.
Nam Ho froze as the moonlight revealed their masked faces and drawn weapons.
‘Those bastards…’
They moved like ghosts.
As their blades reflected the moonlight, Nam Ho’s entire life flashed before his eyes.
And then, he realized the only way to wake Taesan for sure.
“Taesan! Those bastards are stealing your meat!”
Swish—
The masked men raised their weapons. Nam Ho shut his eyes and shouted:
“They’re eating all your meat!”
And in the next instant—
“No! Taesan’s meat!”
Boom! Crash!
Taesan sprang awake like a beast possessed, throwing his colossal fist forward.
Bang! Boom-boom-boom!
Huff. Huff.
Sama Pyo exhaled heavily. His upper body was soaked in blood, but the masked enemies now hesitated, fear creeping into their eyes.
He had fought like a demon—relentless, brutal, and drenched in killing intent.
Hidden weapons, poisons, lethal martial arts—all unleashed at once.
But the most terrifying thing was his fearlessness in the face of death.
“Come, all of you. I swear on my life, I’ll kill every last one.”
Covered in blood and breathing raggedly, Sama Pyo charged again.
Bodies fell one after another.
Soon, twenty corpses lay scattered on the ground—seven of them peak-level martial masters.
‘This monster…’
The remaining enemies all thought the same thing—
“No! Taesan’s meat!”
Crash! Boom-boom-boom!
The collapsing pavilion shook as the true monster appeared.
A towering giant nearly eight feet tall with an enormous frame and blazing madness in his eyes.
“Taesan’s meat! Where’s my meat?!”
‘W-what the hell is that thing?!’
The masked men swallowed hard as an old man peeked out from behind the giant, pointing toward them.
“See those guys?”
“Taesan sees them!”
“I saw it—those guys ate all your meat.”
“Taesan! Unforgivable!!”
What meat? What theft?
The enemies stood frozen in confusion.
Sama Pyo, his face smeared with blood, grinned widely—not at Taesan, but at the figure descending casually from the hill overlooking the courtyard.
Someone who had clearly returned at the perfect moment.
“I leave for a bit, and of course this happens.”
Step. Step.
The young man walking leisurely down the slope glanced at Sama Pyo.
“Friends of yours?”
Sama Pyo burst out laughing and shook his head.