Chapter 654
If someone asked whether I could kill three peak-level masters in one move, I’d probably nod without hesitation.
But if the question were whether I could subdue three peak-level masters—especially if they were assassins by nature—the answer would be different.
In such cases, brute strength isn’t the answer. You must control them through persuasion, not force—offer the promise of survival rather than torture and death. Only then can you prevent them from taking their own lives.
However…
Crack.
It seemed my promise hadn’t convinced them. Or perhaps their fear of their master outweighed even the instinct to live.
Swish! Thud!
My finger wind struck their pressure points a heartbeat too late.
Their bodies stiffened, and in the next moment, they collapsed, spewing blood through the air.
Papat!
I closed the gap instantly, catching the three collapsing figures and laying them down.
Thick blood gushed from their mouths beneath the masks.
“Grrrk… kuh…!”
Damn it. This wasn’t good. No—it was the worst.
Severing their heart meridians was the same as detonating an explosion inside their bodies.
When the eight extraordinary meridians and hundreds of energy channels within the body are all cut, there’s no way to survive.
‘Especially for martial artists.’
The higher the risk, the greater the power—but also the greater the fall.
Through cultivation, martial artists surpass ordinary humans, but once the heart meridians are severed, it leads to [Deviation Madness], a death sentence in itself.
Just like this.
“Cough! Kuaaagh!”
Pshhh!
Blood poured endlessly from every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, ears—mixed with pale, fleshy bits that could only be internal organs.
Even Nam Ho and Taesan, who had rushed over, stopped in their tracks at the horrific sight.
“Ugh… Taesan doesn’t want to see this. Lost my appetite.”
“W-what in the world…”
Nam Ho swallowed hard and asked in a low, grim voice,
“Can you save them?”
A meaningless question. Things had already gone too far.
Before I could even answer, two of them went limp.
Thud.
They were gone.
But I wasn’t ready to give up.
I grabbed the wrist of the last surviving masked man and poured all my energy into him.
Swoooosh.
My Scorching Yang Energy surged into his ruined body. Inside, I could feel the complete devastation. His organs were shredded, and his once-solid meridians were crumbling like old, rotted walls.
‘And to make matters worse, he’s in [Deviation Madness]…’
Even Moon Kyung himself couldn’t save this man.
Still, I gritted my teeth.
‘I have to know. No matter what.’
Just one name. The name of the person who ordered this attack. That’s all I needed.
I unleashed all my power—not to save him, but to rekindle the last spark of life within him.
Crackle!
His entire body convulsed violently under the influx of qi. But like calm after a storm, he suddenly stilled.
[The final light before death—Revival’s Glimmer.]
This was it. His last moment of clarity.
Locking eyes with the assassin’s fading consciousness, I asked,
“Who sent you?”
Then I reached forward and tore away his mask—only to realize this final effort was meaningless.
“Khrrk… hhah… hhhaaa…”
He tried to speak, his jaw moving up and down, but no words came out.
No—he couldn’t.
Nam Ho’s voice trembled from behind me.
“…Monsters. They cut out their tongues.”
He didn’t need to finish.
The last assassin’s brief flicker of life faded away. His eyes went blank, his short tongue lolling lifelessly from his mouth.
I muttered a curse under my breath.
“…Son of a bitch.”
I’d sensed something unusual about them from the start, but I hadn’t expected this.
Now it made sense—why not a single one of them had uttered a word since the attack began. They hadn’t screamed, hadn’t spoken, because they couldn’t.
Nam Ho crouched beside the bodies and quickly examined them, his tone grim.
“Their tongues were severed long ago. The wounds are old and healed. These men were prepared for this.”
Then his brows furrowed.
“They’re all Southern Barbarians.”
“No Han among them?”
“None. Not a single one. Their clothing’s uniform—can’t tell which tribe they belong to.”
Distinguishing Southern tribes was usually simple—each had its own garb, customs, and foods. But dressed entirely in black, masked from head to toe, they were indistinguishable.
Even facial features gave little away; Han and Southern Barbarians differed only slightly.
“Damn it.”
I let out a sigh. Nam Ho’s deep, cold gaze met mine.
“You mentioned three possible culprits when trying to coax them—the three Great Chiefs. Was it Heukung who sent you the letter?”
I looked at him in surprise, which was all the answer he needed.
“So it was him.”
“How did you know?”
“Baeksang and Yohee make sense as suspects. But Heukung? You’d only suspect him if he’d contacted you personally.”
Nam Ho’s voice was calm and analytical.
“Was it him?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“He was waiting for me at the place mentioned in the letter.”
“And you approached from the forest rather than the rocks, clever. But with Heukung’s size, he’d stand out. You mean he came in person?”
“He used the [Bone Shrinking Technique]. Even I didn’t recognize him at first.”
Nam Ho’s brows arched.
“Bone Shrinking Technique, huh… He had more secrets than anyone thought. No wonder everyone was fooled. If he were as he seemed, he’d never have contacted you in the first place.”
He muttered under his breath, then said,
“Continue.”
I told him everything—every word exchanged, every detail of Heukung’s account.
When I finished, Nam Ho’s frown deepened.
“What a damn mess.”
I agreed.
Baeksang. Yohee. Heukung.
None of them could be ruled out.
And behind it all loomed two characters—Dark Heaven.
‘They severed their own meridians, not because of pride, but to prevent capture. That alone says enough.’
In the Southern lands, finding deadly poison was easy. Even a walk outside the palace could fill one’s basket with venomous creatures.
But they hadn’t used poison—they’d cut their own heart meridians instead.
That meant they’d been specifically trained for this.
‘Dark Heaven knows. They know I possess the Ten Thousand Poison Pearl.’
Dark Heaven once sent the Blood Lord to massacre the Shaolin Temple, and ordered the Western Demon Army to steal the sacred relics from the Emei Sect and the Sichuan Tang Clan.
They had poured immense power into those operations—elite warriors and masters on par with the Ten Kings, perhaps even the Three Stars.
‘Yet after the Sichuan Blood Incident, the Tang Clan remained untouched.’
They had suffered losses, yes, but no follow-up attack came.
And I’d always suspected the reason was the Ten Thousand Poison Pearl.
‘They knew it was with me. So they ensured no one would be captured alive.’
A bead of cold sweat trickled down my spine.
The enemy was watching my every move, while I couldn’t even glimpse who was hiding in the shadows.
An attack inside the very heart of the Beast Miao Palace—its inner sanctum—was already a threat beyond measure.
“When did the attack start?” I asked.
Nam Ho frowned.
“I’m not sure. I woke midway through, but it couldn’t have been more than half an hour after you left. When I checked, chaos had already erupted outside. Sama Pyo was drenched in blood, fighting like a demon.”
He glanced at the unconscious Sama Pyo with concern.
“What about him? He looks like he lost a lot of blood.”
“I’ve stopped the bleeding. No fatal wounds—most of that blood isn’t even his.”
Taesan, who had been stacking corpses into a pile, blinked his big eyes.
“Chief, really? Taesan’s master okay?”
“Yeah. Just exhausted from using too much power.”
Hearing that, Taesan’s eyes welled up.
“Sniff… Taesan was worried. If master died, Taesan wouldn’t eat meat for three years.”
I nearly choked.
Three years without meat? That’d make him the strongest vegan in Murim.
I swallowed back a laugh and patted his massive shoulder.
“Yeah. You did well too.”
“Sniff… Taesan’s hungry now.”
“…Right.”
I considered smacking him, but before I could, the sound of approaching footsteps and flickering torches came from afar—accompanied by a familiar roar.
‘Roooar!’
Swish! Crack!
A silver figure burst through the darkness.
Mounted atop a white tiger, Yal Mok’s face was carved in stone.
“…We’re late.”
I replied calmly.
“Yeah. Late enough that it’s hard to believe this happened inside the inner palace.”
The fallen pavilion, the pools of blood, the heap of corpses—it all told the story.
Yal Mok bit his lip and spoke.
“The patrolmen were already dead. We only discovered it half an hour ago. And…”
Then came the words that made my ears ring.
“Heukung and Yohee—the two Great Chiefs—have vanished.”
‘…What?’