Chapter 64
Seonhye parted her lips at last, after a long silence.
“…Then, Head Master. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can perform that task.”
“Give me your reason.”
“The secret martial arts manual of Jahashingoong is indeed one of the most precious treasures of our Hwasan Sect. But in the end, it’s still just a book. How can we speak of killing someone over a mere text? I don’t have the heart for that. Please entrust it to another disciple.”
“Hm.”
The Head Master swallowed his thoughts and turned to Yeo-il.
“What about you, Yeonwoo?”
Yeo-il replied calmly, without hesitation.
“I share Seonhye’s opinion. I must decline.”
“…I see. Your hearts are deep indeed. I suppose there’s no helping it.”
“Thank you for understanding, Head Master.”
“It’s a cold day. Warm yourselves with some tea before returning.”
“Yes.”
Seonhye, still tense, lifted her teacup. But before she could take a sip, Yeo-il’s hand suddenly gripped her arm.
“…Sister? Do you have something to say?”
Yeo-il stared silently at her for a long moment, then shook her head and drank her own tea.
As the two cups were set down on the table again—
“I’m sorry.”
Gulp—
Seonhye spat out the liquid she had just swallowed.
“I thought of you both as the future pillars of Hwasan… It pains me to see such bright flowers wither before they can bloom. Yeonwoo… and Seonhye.”
“…Ugh.”
Red blood splattered across the floor as Seonhye collapsed, lifeless, atop it.
At the same moment, urgent shouts erupted outside.
“An intruder! Enemies have appeared! Everyone, to arms!”
“Assassins!”
Yeo-il’s eyes fixed on Seonhye, trembling violently.
“W-Why…?”
But there was no answer to her final question.
Her faint breathing slowed… and then stopped.
Seonhye, the third disciple of Hwasan—and Yeonwoo’s fellow disciple—was dead.
Their bond had lasted only two short years.
“Hello, Sister! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Seonhye. I heard that our late Master had a hidden disciple, and I’ve been longing to meet you!”
“Why?”
“…Pardon?”
“I was just curious about your reason. The other brothers don’t exactly show hostility, but they don’t show warmth either.”
“Ah… it’s not a great reason, really…”
“…”
“It’s just… I’ve never had a senior sister before. That’s all, really!”
Yeo-il recalled Seonhye’s face, blushing like a red plum blossom when they first met, and slowly leaned forward to close her eyes.
“You didn’t drink your tea, Yeonwoo.”
The Head Master’s gaze fell upon Yeo-il’s untouched cup.
“It would have been kinder if your breath, too, had stopped in an instant.”
With a bitter look, he turned to her.
Though he offered no explanation for the sudden tragedy, Yeo-il understood well enough.
He wanted to keep the secret of the martial arts manual completely contained—
even if it meant sacrificing, no, murdering, his own disciples.
“…Such cruel fate. To think assassins would strike Hwasan at a time like this… It seems Heaven itself delivers punishment to the guilty. But do not worry, Yeonwoo. As your Master, I will end this quickly—”
Before he could finish, Yeo-il flipped the table and leapt to her feet, smashing the lantern that lit the room.
Whoosh—!
Darkness swallowed them. Only the chaos and shouting from outside filled the air.
“They’re not ordinary men! The children… the children are in danger!”
“Go reinforce the library! I’ll finish here and follow!”
Yeo-il lowered her body, dodging the sound of his movement.
Each time she turned, the faint silhouette of her opponent flickered in and out of sight.
He moved like a seasoned master—so skilled that even Yeo-il could barely keep up.
The Head Master, who still didn’t know Yeo-il’s true identity, was merely astonished by her speed.
“Impressive.”
His sincere admiration vanished into the cold air.
The next strike came like lightning, aiming straight for her chest. Yeo-il deliberately reacted a heartbeat too late. The man’s hand seized her jaw, fingers digging in.
He clicked his tongue, confident of victory.
“What a shame… that I must end the life of such a genius with my own hands.”
Just as he began to twist her neck—
“…”
The pressure around her throat suddenly loosened.
A flash of cold steel glinted in the flickering yellow light from the window.
Another presence emerged from the shadows. The Head Master instantly retreated.
“Who’s there?”
Step, step.
A figure dressed in black moved beside Yeo-il, standing shoulder to shoulder with her against the Head Master.
Without a word, the stranger tossed a long sword toward Yeo-il.
As she unwrapped the old, talisman-covered cloth, a smooth scabbard appeared. Her hand, cold as ice, gripped the hilt and slowly drew the blade.
Woooom—
In the pitch darkness, the sword shimmered faintly with silver light.
“…The Moon Sword!”
The Moonlight Killing Blade.
The sword Wolgeom (月劍)—the Moon Sword—was one of the legendary blades of the martial world, known to glow with the pure white light of a full moon when wielded by its rightful master.
But it was also a demonic sword, said to drive any unworthy wielder into madness. Only one person in the world could wield it safely—
the assassin known as Il-sal (一殺), “One Kill of Salmak.”
The Moon Sword belonged to Yeo-il herself.
The Head Master’s composure shattered.
“Yeonwoo… how could you… How can you be the Moonlight Killer…?”
Yeo-il spoke coldly.
“Don’t look so shocked, Head Master.”
“…”
“Think of it this way—it’s only fair to kill the one who tried to kill me.”
Then, she and the black-clad stranger attacked at once.
The Head Master barely had time to react. The flames from outside seeped through the paper window, illuminating the chaos.
He lunged toward the door, but was blocked again and again.
“You bastards! Out of my way!”
His face darkened with rage. His blade focused more on Yeo-il than her companion.
This man—Hwasan’s Head Master, Baek Choong—was powerful enough to challenge both of them at once.
His sharp sword narrowly grazed her sleeve and skin. The more wounds Yeo-il took, the louder the Moon Sword’s hum grew—its vibration pounding through her veins into her skull.
Then—blood began to drip from Baek Choong’s nose.
“…What—”
Not just his nose. His eyes turned red and swollen.
The effect of the Hongyu incense the black-clad stranger had lit.
Just as Yeo-il held her breath to avoid being poisoned herself—
“Senior Sister Yeonwoo!”
“…”
“Where are you, Sister Yeonwoo? We must move now!”
The Head Master, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, opened his bloodshot eyes wide.
“Sister Yeonwoo! Sister Seonhye!”
It was Bangwoo’s voice.
He must have been searching for them, and arrived just in time.
Perhaps fearing for the lives of his cherished disciples, the Head Master dropped his guard and shouted, desperate:
“Bangwoo! Stop! Don’t open that door—!”
At that instant, a swift blade pierced the Head Master’s chest.
A familiar shadow appeared on the paper door.
“Head Master? Are you in there?”
Just as the figure began to slide open the door—
Crash!
Yeo-il kicked it open, slamming Bangwoo to the floor.
Then, grabbing his collar, she hurled him as far away as she could.
