Cheon Woojin waited with his eyes closed.
By the time he had finished growing up under his two masters, his senses had already surpassed the limits of ordinary human perception.
Even with his eyes shut, he could follow every movement in the room as clearly as if he were watching it happen. His hearing, smell, and sense of touch were so extraordinarily developed that they more than compensated for his lack of sight, surpassing even those of most spirit beasts.
As the four Martial Alliance members appeared to sink into a deep sleep under the effects of Beauty Poison, the courtesans exchanged glances.
Something passed between them across the table.
A faint, sharp scent reached Woojin's nose, accompanied by the unmistakable presence of a pointed weapon.
A poisoned dagger?
Given the courtesans' clothing and ornaments, a hairpin seemed more likely.
For a while, silence filled the room.
Then—
Whoosh!
One of the courtesans suddenly thrust a hairpin straight toward Cheon Woojin's eyes.
The speed and ferocity of the attack were utterly at odds with the woman's delicate appearance and the faint smile that had captivated the men moments earlier.
If Woojin failed to evade it, he would lose his sight in an instant.
Yet he did not move.
There's no killing intent.
The courtesans were not particularly accomplished martial artists. Woojin saw no reason to doubt his senses.
And sure enough, the hairpin stopped just short of his closed eyelids.
"..."
A brief silence followed.
The other courtesans nodded, and the woman withdrew her weapon.
So their job is simply to render us unconscious.
Having confirmed their intentions, Woojin immediately extended his senses beyond the room to examine his surroundings.
A dozen or so martial artists were waiting outside the establishment.
Among them, one man stood out.
A middle-aged martial artist with a particularly fierce presence was making his way toward their room.
Around forty years old.
A person's aura aged along with their body.
The difference was so subtle that even highly accomplished martial artists would struggle to distinguish it without exceptionally sharp senses.
Cheon Woojin, however, was different.
Even the Black and White Twin Elders had been astonished by his extraordinary perception on more than one occasion.
To have reached that level at forty...
The approaching man was unquestionably a master.
Someone of his caliber could establish a reputation throughout the Central Plains.
One thing was certain: he did not belong to the Orthodox Path.
What Woojin found difficult to determine was whether the man's aura belonged to a martial artist of the Black Path or someone associated with the demonic path.
Either way, such a formidable figure was evidently involved in targeting members of the Martial Alliance.
Could this have something to do with our mission?
That seemed likely.
But there was something else.
Woojin had noticed an oddity in Song Yiyeon's aura.
Unlike the other two men who had collapsed, Song's internal energy was circulating far too smoothly.
In other words, he was pretending to be unconscious.
Just like Woojin himself.
How strange.
Song Yiyeon's martial prowess exceeded Jang Woopyeong's, but he was still below Do Seonghwi.
If Beauty Poison had incapacitated even Do Seonghwi, how had Song managed to resist it?
Woojin considered the question for a moment before arriving at an answer.
He's practicing the Boy's Art.
At last, something that had puzzled him about Song Yiyeon made sense.
Throughout their acquaintance, Song had consistently concealed his full strength, even in situations where revealing it would have been advantageous.
Woojin had previously attributed this to a lack of proficiency.
Now he understood.
Song had been concealing the weakness inherent in the Boy's Art.
The technique possessed remarkably distinct advantages and disadvantages.
Its greatest advantage was the extraordinary speed at which a practitioner could develop his internal energy. Its rate of advancement rivaled that of demonic martial arts, yet it carried none of their harmful effects on the body.
Its disadvantages, however, were equally significant.
If a practitioner exchanged energy with a woman, the internal energy he had spent his entire life accumulating would scatter.
Moreover, whenever he circulated his internal energy at full strength, the technique produced a uniquely pure and clear aura that was immediately recognizable.
There was perhaps no martial art in the world whose weakness was easier to exploit.
A woman proficient in energy manipulation could destroy a practitioner's cultivation simply by introducing her own energy into his body.
Consequently, those who practiced the Boy's Art rarely revealed their full strength, lest someone recognize the technique they had cultivated.
There was also the matter of reputation.
Woojin knew that people sometimes mocked practitioners of the Boy's Art by calling them eunuchs.
If he's practicing the Boy's Art, Beauty Poison wouldn't affect him.
That explained everything.
Woojin continued waiting.
After some time, the door finally opened.
A man entered the room.
The courtesans immediately held their breath.
Their reaction made it clear just how intimidating they found him. They were so frightened that even breathing carelessly seemed beyond them.
"Have you confirmed it?"
The middle-aged man's voice was every bit as rough as his aura.
Deep and resonant, it echoed through the room as though he were speaking inside a cavern.
The startled courtesans hurriedly lowered their heads.
"Yes. We've checked several times."
"I see. Proceed."
At his command, one of the courtesans nodded and approached Jang Woopyeong.
She gently stroked the back of the man whose forehead was resting against the table.
"Brother."
"Mmm..."
Even in his drugged state, Jang Woopyeong wore a foolish smile.
"Brother, wake up. You promised to spend the whole night with me."
"Mmm. That's right. I did."
Surprisingly, Jang Woopyeong answered her.
His words were slurred, much like those of someone hopelessly drunk, but he was clearly capable of holding a conversation.
The courtesan glanced toward the middle-aged man.
When he nodded, the hand that had been stroking Jang Woopyeong's back slowly moved lower.
"Brother, aren't you feeling hot?"
"...Am I?"
"Yes. I'm terribly hot."
"I suppose I am too."
Eventually, her hand reached his groin.
Jang Woopyeong frowned slightly but made no attempt to push her away.
The courtesan then gently raised his upper body.
His eyes fluttered open.
Strangely, however, his gaze remained cloudy and unfocused.
The courtesan smiled brightly.
"If you're hot, why don't you take off your clothes? Then I can help you."
Jang Woopyeong promptly removed his upper garments.
His muscular torso was exposed, covered in scars accumulated through years of training and missions.
Nor did he stop there.
He continued removing his clothes, one layer after another, until he was completely naked.
The courtesans showed no surprise whatsoever at the sight.
Their indifference suggested that this was hardly the first time they had witnessed such a scene.
The woman who had undressed Jang Woopyeong looked toward the middle-aged man.
"He appears to be completely under the poison's influence. Continue."
There was a reason for this peculiar procedure.
In the past, some of their targets had pretended to succumb to the poison.
They had therefore devised several methods of determining whether a martial artist was genuinely incapacitated.
Initially, they had tested their victims by stabbing them with knives or needles.
Unfortunately, this sometimes had the unintended effect of awakening people they had gone to considerable trouble to drug.
Later, they attempted to verify the poison's effectiveness by questioning their victims about secrets.
But martial artists of the Martial Alliance and the Black Path, especially those who had undergone rigorous training, occasionally continued to deceive their interrogators even in that condition.
Eventually, the group settled on a different method.
Humiliation.
They would subject their victims to something so degrading that no martial artist in full possession of his faculties would willingly endure it.
Most martial artists possessed enormous pride.
Rather than submit to such disgrace while pretending to be unconscious, they would sooner abandon the deception and fight to the death.
Having satisfied herself that Jang Woopyeong was truly under the poison's influence, the courtesan sat him upright and finally began her interrogation.
"Brother."
"Mmm? What?"
"Why did the Martial Alliance members who were heading to Jiangxi Province suddenly stop in Anhui?"
Despite his intoxicated state, Jang Woopyeong's expression turned unexpectedly solemn.
"Hmm. I don't know. How would I know what my superiors are thinking?"
The courtesan looked helplessly toward the middle-aged man.
He shook his head.
"Continue."
She turned back to Jang Woopyeong and gently caressed his cheek.
"Then what sort of mission were you supposed to carry out in Jiangxi Province?"
"I don't know that either."
"Could it have something to do with the Giant Stone Monster's secret cave?"
"Who's that...?"
The courtesan sighed deeply.
Of all the people I could have chosen, why did it have to be this idiot who knows absolutely nothing?
"What about the Black Tortoise Unit's mission?"
"To assist the Heavenly Tiger Unit."
"Hah... Then what's the Heavenly Tiger Unit's mission?"
Frustration was beginning to show in the courtesan's eyes.
Unfortunately, no amount of questioning could extract information from someone who genuinely did not possess it.
Even beating Jang Woopyeong to death would not change that.
And under the influence of the poison, he could hardly do anything but answer truthfully.
"I don't know. I told you, I don't know. How should I know? I don't know!"
"...You damned idiot!"
The courtesan raised her hand, ready to strike him across the head.
But before she could bring it down, the middle-aged man caught her wrist.
"Are you trying to wake him?"
"...I-I'm sorry, Elder."
She hurriedly bowed her head.
Jang Woopyeong certainly possessed an unusual talent.
Even when someone knew perfectly well that he was not being deliberately difficult, he somehow managed to make them furious.
The courtesan collected herself and resumed questioning.
"Where exactly in Jiangxi Province is the mission taking place?"
"Jiangxi Province is Jiangxi Province. What do you mean, where...?"
"...No, I mean... Hah."
Another courtesan awakened Do Seonghwi beside him and began questioning him as well.
The results were no better.
After all, the Heavenly Tiger Unit Commander had not even disclosed the mission's details to Cheol Jiak.
How could his subordinates possibly know anything?
The middle-aged man's gaze shifted toward Cheon Woojin and Song Yiyeon.
If the two older and more experienced members knew nothing, there was little chance that these younger recruits would have any useful information.
He sighed.
"You've picked a worthless bunch. Kill them, bury the bodies, and clear out of here for a while."
"Yes, Elder."
The courtesans promptly produced their poisoned hairpins.
The woman who had been questioning Jang Woopyeong threw his discarded clothes over his lower body, as though she could no longer bear to look at him.
"Brother, you're terribly drunk. Come on, get up. I'll take you to a room."
At her urging, the men began to rise unsteadily.
The courtesans intended to lead them away and kill them.
That was when—
"Wait."
The middle-aged man, who had been about to leave the room, suddenly turned around.
His eyes settled on Song Yiyeon.
"That one is pretending."
He approached Song as he spoke.
Song Yiyeon felt as though his heart might burst from his chest.
From the moment the middle-aged man had appeared, Song had known that he was an opponent he could not hope to defeat.
That was why he had resolved to remain still until the man left.
Once the middle-aged man was gone, he intended to kill the courtesans and seek reinforcements from the Martial Alliance.
But now his deception had been discovered.
The man abruptly snatched a hairpin from one of the courtesans and advanced toward him.
Song Yiyeon unconsciously swallowed.
His heart was pounding violently, but he had no intention of allowing himself to be killed without resisting.
He was already preparing to circulate his internal energy at full strength.
Doing so would expose the weakness of the Boy's Art.
But what did that matter when his life was at stake?
The middle-aged man stopped directly in front of him.
"Hey."
His heavy voice was directed at Song Yiyeon.
Song did not answer.
He merely kept his head lowered, waiting for the moment the man attacked with the hairpin.
An attacker generally exposed the greatest opening at the instant he struck.
Given the enormous disparity between their abilities, that brief opening would be Song's first and last opportunity.
The man gave a mocking chuckle.
Then, his expression turning cold, he raised the hairpin.
At the same time, Song Yiyeon reached toward the chopsticks he had been watching on the table.
His plan was simple.
He would evade the hairpin and drive the chopsticks into the man's side in a single movement.
However—
Before the hairpin could reach Song Yiyeon...
Before Song could even bend his waist...
Someone else moved.
A man who acted before anyone else in the room.
Every gaze turned toward Cheon Woojin.
He had risen slightly from his seat.
His movement appeared almost leisurely.
Yet somehow, he had acted faster than either of the two men who had been preparing to attack.
Woojin calmly surveyed the room.
Originally, he had intended to let the courtesans carry him away.
Once they reached a suitable place, he would interrogate them through torture until he learned the middle-aged man's identity.
That had been his plan.
But now that Song Yiyeon's deception had been discovered, there was little choice but to intervene.
Woojin moved unhurriedly around the table, picked up Jang Woopyeong's discarded clothes, and covered his naked body.
Then he extended an open hand toward the courtesan standing beside him.
"...?"
The woman tilted her head, unable to understand what he wanted.
Woojin spoke calmly.
"Give me the hairpin. I don't intend to kill you yet."
His meaning was perfectly clear.
If she surrendered, he would allow her to live.
For a moment, the middle-aged man and the courtesans stared at him.
Then they burst into laughter.
They were openly mocking him.
The situation was so absurd that they could scarcely believe what they were hearing.
What could a newcomer who had only just joined the Martial Alliance possibly do against them?
The middle-aged man shook his head, casually twirling the hairpin around his finger.
"This is the problem with you Martial Alliance people."
"..."
"You youngsters join the Alliance and suddenly think you're invincible. You're so drunk on your own importance that you can't see what's right in front of you. Listen here, brat."
Cheon Woojin regarded him calmly.
The man continued, smiling.
"Now that you're a member of the Martial Alliance, do you imagine every villain in the world will tremble at the sight of you? Do you think we'll all crawl around on the ground, begging you to spare our lives?"
"..."
"If I were that sort of man, I wouldn't have gotten involved in this business in the first place. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
The man smiled more broadly.
"It means I'm not afraid of the Martial Alliance. It means I can tear your limbs off and kill you right here without a second thought."
Cheon Woojin stared at him without expression.
The man was spouting nonsense.
Still, judging by his words, this was hardly his first encounter with a young member of the Martial Alliance.
He clearly understood the misconceptions that often plagued rising talents newly admitted to the organization.
More importantly, he knew exactly when those misconceptions would give way to fear.
That was what he was trying to exploit.
Woojin nodded.
"Who are you?"
Since things had already reached this point, there was no reason not to ask directly.
Naturally, the man merely gave an incredulous laugh.
Woojin watched him for a moment, as though studying his reaction.
Then he extended his hand toward the courtesan once more.
"Give it to me."
The woman's expression twisted.
The captivating smile she had worn earlier vanished without a trace.
In its place was unmistakable killing intent.
She raised the hairpin, preparing to drive its poisoned point into the center of Woojin's forehead.
And at that very instant—
Whoosh!
The courtesan's pupils widened.
A faint rush of wind swept past her hand.
Her fingers suddenly straightened of their own accord.
Before she could even understand what had happened—
Crack!
The hairpin pierced her forehead.
Thick blood trickled from the small hole it had left behind.
Cheon Woojin withdrew the hairpin and gave the woman's body a light push.
Crash!
She toppled backward, overturning the table before collapsing to the floor.
Throughout the entire sequence, not a single person in the room had managed to utter a word.
Woojin casually flicked the blood from the hairpin.
Then he looked toward the middle-aged man again.
"Of course you wouldn't be afraid. The Giant Stone Monster, a disciple of the Dark Heavenly Son. Why would people searching for his secret cave be frightened of a mere rising talent from the Martial Alliance?"