Chapter 40
The ways of Salmak are best known by Salmak itself.
Having piled up countless sins and earned not only a terrible reputation but also that man’s trust, Yeo-il knew almost everything there was to know about the organization called Salmak.
Especially when it came to assignments like the false Namgung Chumyeong’s — missions that went far beyond simple assassination and demanded long-term infiltration.
‘Come to think of it… quite some time has passed.’
Yeo-il, too, was a veteran.
Just like the false Namgung Chumyeong, Yeo-il once lived under a false identity for over two years, infiltrating another sect for a certain purpose.
Of course, not one of the Five Great Clans, but one among the Nine Sects.
[Why… why is that disgusting mark engraved on Sister Yeonwoo’s back…?]
The plan had gone awry, and the ending had been far from clean…
Even so, Yeo-il prided herself on being the one who best understood the false Namgung Chumyeong’s mindset — having once carried out a similar mission herself.
Yes — mindset.
That was the key.
Psychology was Yeo-il’s surest weapon to manipulate the impostor.
Fwoosh—
At last, the oil lamp went out.
Darkness fell over Namgung Chumyeong’s chamber, which had been lit by a warm yellow glow.
This was Dongcheong, the quarters where the three Namgung brothers, including the young lord, resided. Among them, Namgung Chumyeong’s room lay alone at the far western edge.
Tall bamboo grew long and wide along the outer walls — an ideal setup for secret communication with the outside.
Yeo-il donned her black assassin’s garb for the first time in a long while.
A black veil covered everything below her eyes. Her hair was pinned up with a butterfly-shaped golden ornament that tinkled softly with every movement, the dangling floral charms swaying elegantly.
This secretive yet ostentatious outfit announced her presence with faint, deliberate traces of sound as she moved.
Many guards were stationed around Namgung Chumyeong’s sleeping chamber.
Chrrr—
She lured their attention with the faint chime of her ornaments, then swiftly struck their pressure points — one by one — knocking them unconscious.
One, two, three… seven in total.
The purpose was not merely to enter but to heighten the impostor’s sense of danger.
The fake Namgung Chumyeong surely already knew Yeo-il was here.
He would have a dagger laced with a fatal poison hidden beneath his sleeve — prepared to sacrifice flesh to save bone at the first sign of danger.
Yeo-il stood before the door.
“Your craftsman is dead.”
A sharp stillness filled the room.
“Meaning, there’s no way left to replace your face.”
She opened the door.
The fake Namgung Chumyeong lay motionless on the bed, feigning sleep. But Yeo-il saw right through the act, strolling leisurely around the room.
“Useless… more than I thought.”
Her steps were light, but her eyes combed the moonlit chamber with sharp precision.
“Slow.”
“…”
“Inept.”
“…”
“I’ll give you one chance. Convince me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
A near-inaudible whizz split the air — a hidden weapon.
Yeo-il dodged effortlessly. The impostor sprang up, lunging for her vitals with surprising speed — impressive for someone who had lived as Namgung Chumyeong for so long — yet meaningless in the end.
Crack!
“Kuhk!”
Yeo-il twisted his right wrist and climbed onto his back.
The fake twitched, hesitating as though deciding whether to take his own life, then rasped harshly,
“Who are you?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
The impostor clearly didn’t realize that the woman before him and Namgung Soyou were one and the same.
Naturally — no one from the Namgung family had ever seen Yeo-il alive and standing before them.
“I’ve never heard of someone like you.”
“You’re slow to understand, too.”
After a pause, the impostor muttered under his breath,
“Yeonghwang Yuse.”
At first, Yeo-il wondered why he was reciting the name of his sect.
“Yeonghwang Yuse.”
Yeonghwang Yuse.
Ah — now she understood.
‘So it’s a code phrase.’
A sect with such an ostentatious name… no wonder. It wasn’t a name — it was a password.
More precisely, “Yeonghwang Yuse” must have been only part of the code — a phrase to identify allies.
The impostor was waiting for Yeo-il to respond with the matching phrase. Something like “Eonbyeong Cheonbyeong” or “Jiral Ttongsso.”
But how could she know the answer?
Of course she didn’t — yet even ignorance had its tactics.
Yeo-il smirked faintly.
“Yeonghwang. Do you even know who this ‘Eternal Emperor’ you speak of refers to?”
She was sure he didn’t. Yeo-il herself had never known the true meaning behind Salmak’s own code phrases.
“Yeonghwang Yuse.”
“Yuse. And do you even know what legacy this emperor left behind?”
“Yeonghwang Yuse.”
Those with guilty consciences tend to talk too much.
And Yeo-il couldn’t afford to give him the impression she was hiding something, so she rambled on — like Jin Cheongak himself.
“What’s the point of any of this? You, Salmak, all the same — turning people into ignorant puppets who don’t even know what their ‘grand cause’ is. No wonder you’re all so useless, parroting secret codes like fools.”
“…”
“Losing the Blood-Sucking Demon Sword hurts, though. I wonder how far the ripples of your blunder will spread.”
The impostor’s body stiffened for an instant — he’d clearly flinched at the mention of Salmak and the Blood-Sucking Demon Sword.
Was Yeonghwang Yuse truly the reincarnation of Salmak?
If so… why had Salmak suddenly vanished two years ago, only to reappear under this new name?
She didn’t want to get tangled with them again — but it seemed she already was.
At the very least, she needed to know enough to stay one step ahead.
“Yeonghwang Yu—”
That was enough confusion for now. Yeo-il snatched the poisoned dagger from his sleeve and tossed it aside.
“Your time is running out.”
A killer who loses the chance for a clean death quickly grows desperate.
“Thanks to your stupidity, Namgung Jeokmyeong discovered your second false face. Your time’s up, and your usefulness too. You’d better come up with something before he punishes you. Otherwise…”
“He? Who do you mean?”
For the first time since becoming a “Yeonghwang Yuse” parrot, the impostor spoke without repeating the code. His composure was broken.
Now came the important part — what Yeo-il said next would decide who held control.
‘So there is someone he fears.’
A face surfaced in Yeo-il’s mind.
The man of absolute authority and unmatched martial might within Salmak.
A born killer who had long since abandoned all traces of humanity. Trash. Filth. Scum. Madness itself in human form.
“Would you even recognize the name if I told you?”
“…Yeonghwang Yuse.”
She grabbed his leg and pressed her fingers into the Yongcheon pressure point.
“Huk!”
After writhing in agony, he finally calmed down — only to start mumbling again.
“Yeonghwang Yu—”
Press.
“Yeonghwang—”
Press.
“…”
Press.
“Hhhkk! I—I didn’t say anything!”
Beasts or humans — when words fail, pain speaks.
“Now. Tell me who he is.”
If Yeonghwang Yuse was truly Salmak’s successor… then surely, he must be connected to that man.
“Jeilak.”
Even after two years, there was no one in the martial world who didn’t know the name.
A man so infamous that calling him the greatest under heaven was considered an insult to the heavens themselves — branded with the vile title:
The Greatest Evil — Cheon Muryeong.
