Chapter 35
General Commander Hwangho
“An assassin!”
Clang!
“Argh!”
“Urgh!”
The clash of metal, shrieks, and dazzling sparks cut through the darkness, reflected in Gomi’s sharp eyes.
Ching!
She drew her sword as she ran.
Splash!
Muddy water erupted from the ground where she passed. Her footwork was extraordinary.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
Warriors burst out of their barracks.
Leaping over their heads, Gomi dashed straight toward Hwangho’s tent.
That’s when she saw them—figures vanishing into the shadows.
From the original five, three were gone.
Whoosh!
Landing on the ground, Gomi fixated on Hwangho’s tent. Through the half-open door, she could see warriors inside. She darted in without hesitation.
“What’s going on?!”
Through the warriors’ legs, she spotted blood staining the floor. Behind it sat Hwangho.
“…!”
Gomi’s eyes widened.
Jeongcheon was pressing down on Hwangho’s chest, blood pouring through his fingers.
Gomi stared at Hwangho’s face.
His pale, contorted features and dim eyes told her all she needed to know—it was serious.
“Move aside!”
The military physician rushed in.
Gomi observed for a moment, then stepped outside. She stared toward where the assassins had fled, her gaze hardening.
‘An assassination…’
* * *
“Spit!”
The leader of the Blood Ghosts spat roughly.
He looked down at the chaos erupting in the Yeon army camp, his eyes filled with shock and fury.
“To think Jeongcheon was that strong.”
He had been certain of success.
The two most worrisome figures, Cheolmuok and Gongsontae, weren’t present. But a completely unexpected variable had appeared—Jeongcheon.
The moment they stormed Hwangho’s tent, Jeongcheon had appeared. Three of their own had died in the process.
They had succeeded in striking Hwangho, but they couldn’t confirm his death. At the last moment, Hwangho had twisted his body, avoiding a fatal blow.
“Gah!”
One of the Blood Ghosts who had escaped with him suddenly bent over, coughing blood.
“…!”
Thud!
He collapsed forward and lay limp. He was dead.
The leader’s eyes trembled faintly, then flushed with rage.
“Damn it!”
* * *
As Ihwan entered, the warriors parted to the sides.
He approached the bed where Hwangho lay, seemingly dead.
Jeongcheon bowed his head, his face clouded with grief.
Ihwan looked down at Hwangho. He was still breathing, but barely.
Then, Hwangho opened his eyes.
“…I must speak with you urgently, General. Everyone else, leave.”
“Take your time.”
“No. It must be now.”
Jeongcheon led everyone out of the tent.
Cough, cough!
With violent coughs, blood gushed from Hwangho’s mouth. Ihwan watched the life drain from the man’s eyes.
“Please… become the strength our Crown Prince needs…”
“You are the one he needs more.”
Drip.
Dark blood soaked into the bedding.
Clench!
Hwangho gripped Ihwan’s hand.
It was his final gesture.
“Please… protect the Crown Prince…”
* * *
Huff, huff!
Jeongcheon gripped his sword with both hands, panting heavily. Tears ran down his cheeks.
Watching him, Gomi turned her gaze toward the tent. The door was shut, and Ihwan had yet to emerge. Warriors who had chased the assassins returned one by one.
All stood in silence, faces grave, eyes locked on Hwangho’s tent.
Still, the door didn’t open. Every second passed like eternity.
Creak…
Finally, the door opened.
Jeongcheon shot up.
His eyes met Ihwan’s.
Ihwan said nothing. Showed no emotion.
That silence was the answer.
“Khk!”
Jeongcheon collapsed.
The warriors behind him fell to their knees one by one.
General Commander of the Southern Legion, Hwangho.
The man who had been Crown Prince Iso’s right hand was now gone.
Only Ihwan had witnessed his final moments.
* * *
At Pang Muwi’s residence.
Yeonghochung and Mo Jaehwang were seated together. Hwangho’s death was a golden opportunity for them.
Yeonghochung asked,
“How is a new general commander chosen in a case like this?”
“When the palace receives word, the Grand Marshal will appoint a new one.”
“But isn’t the emperor’s approval needed for that?”
“Of course. But since His Majesty no longer involves himself in affairs of state, Prince Yi Hwang will handle it once the palace is informed.”
Meanwhile, Pang Muwi’s expression remained dark as he listened.
Yeonghochung narrowed his eyes.
“You seem troubled, General.”
“It’s nothing—just some indigestion. Don’t worry.”
Yeonghochung smiled meaningfully.
“If you become General Commander, we can finally steer everything our way. Shouldn’t we begin by replacing the heads of the key units with our own people?”
“Of course. That’s only natural.”
Mo Jaehwang added,
“If we had known things would go this well, we wouldn’t have bothered coming at all.”
“Should we send a gift to those Zhao bastards? We got what we wanted without shedding a drop of sweat.”
“Honestly, I feel the same. Haha.”
Still, Pang Muwi’s expression didn’t brighten.
‘This isn’t how I wanted to claim the general’s seat…’
* * *
The next morning.
After the assassination attempt, the Blood Ghost leader didn’t return to camp but spent the night hiding in the woods.
From afar, he observed the Yeon army.
From early morning, warriors were busy moving about. Yet nowhere could he find signs of mourning or disarray that would suggest Hwangho’s death.
‘Does that mean he’s alive?’
He moved closer.
He had to confirm Hwangho’s condition. He couldn’t return otherwise. It was a matter of pride—for both himself and the entire Blood Ghosts.
He crept through the brush, eyes fixed on Hwangho’s tent. But still, nothing seemed amiss.
‘Damn it. Was the assassination really a failure?’
That’s when—
“You.”
A voice from behind.
Reflexively, the leader turned, drawing his sword.
Clang!
“…!”
* * *
Ihwan gazed coldly at the Blood Ghost leader.
The man’s wide, panicked eyes darted between Ihwan, Cheolmuok, and Gongsontae.
“You weren’t sure if you succeeded. So you came back to confirm.”
Click!
Cheolmuok’s sword transformed into a massive blade. Gongsontae did the same. Together, they blocked every path of escape.
Ihwan continued calmly,
“I wondered if you wouldn’t show. If you hadn’t, I’d have been quite frustrated.”
Light gathered at Ihwan’s fingertip.
A deep, blood-red glow formed, floating off his finger like a flower petal, drifting toward the Blood Ghost leader.
“What happened to Hwangho?”
“He ascended to the heavens before my eyes.”
“…!”
Even after confirming Hwangho’s death, the man kept his mouth shut, a chill running down his spine.
Acknowledging Hwangho’s death meant acknowledging his own.
‘No weaknesses…’
Realizing that not even a needle’s gap existed between them, the Blood Ghost leader made his choice.
‘I’ll go through Ihwan—he’s my only chance!’
He had seen Cheolmuok and Gongsontae in battle. Ihwan seemed the weaker link.
Clench!
Biting his lip to focus, he surged forward, kicking off the ground.
Just then, five glowing lights floated slowly into view, blocking his vision.
Humans instinctively react to what they can see. So did he.
Dodging the lights, he twisted his head and lunged toward Ihwan, swinging his blade.
Though the explanation is long, all this happened in an instant.
Ihwan didn’t even flinch.
Cheolmuok moved. His greatsword sliced through the air toward the attacker at unthinkable speed.
“…!”
The Blood Ghost leader turned to deflect the strike.
Boom!
“Urgh!”
The blades collided with a deafening crash.
He groaned and staggered—but retained his balance and vaulted toward Ihwan again.
Then, the five drifting lights struck his back.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Argh!”
Though dazed by the shock, he didn’t stop. Even injured, he aimed his sword straight at Ihwan’s heart.
But that was as far as he got.
“Impressive.”
His sword froze inches from Ihwan’s chest. Then he stumbled back and collapsed into the mud.
Splash!
Gongsontae rushed in to strike his pressure points.
But blood poured from the man’s mouth—he had bitten down on poison.
“Damn…”
“Gurgle…”
With a rattling breath, the Blood Ghost leader went limp. Gongsontae looked at Ihwan in dismay.
“Forgive me. I should’ve been faster.”
“It’s fine.”
Ihwan approached the dead man, now soaked in mud.
Cheolmuok muttered heavily,
“If we’d captured him, we could’ve learned a lot.”
“He was never going to let himself be caught.”
“If you meant to kill him, I alone was enough.”
“Enough. Let it go.”
Shing.
Ihwan slowly drew his sword—and severed the man’s head without hesitation.
Slice.
The head fell into the mud.
“Bring it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gongsontae picked up the blood- and mud-soaked head.
Ihwan returned to camp. The warriors moved aside and bowed their heads.
Entering Hwangho’s tent, he took the head from Gongsontae and placed it before Hwangho’s shrouded body.
All the officers watched in solemn silence.
After a pause that seemed to suffocate the room, Ihwan spoke.
“Muok.”
“Yes, General.”
“Dismember him. Toss his limbs at the enemy gates.”
“Understood.”
