The Ink Guest did not stop.
He swung his great blade at the already lifeless body again and again.
Until the dirt turned into a bloody mush, and Dokgo Yeong's form was mangled beyond recognition.
It was closer to a howl than to revenge.
Three years of suppressed grief and rage spattered in every direction as blood and flesh.
I couldn't bear to keep watching the sight, so I turned my head away.
For a while, only ragged breathing and dull, heavy blows echoed through the bamboo forest.
And then.
Snap.
At last, every sound stopped.
The roar that had shaken the bamboo forest.
The ghastly crack of bones being crushed.
And the last scream of the murderer who had made the land tremble.
Everything cut off as if it had all been a lie.
All that remained was the sound of bamboo leaves swaying in the wind and the thick stench of blood stinging my nose.
The sight before my eyes was gruesome.
Thousand Faces, Dokgo Yeong.
No, the thing that had once been called Dokgo Yeong.
It was now a red lump of meat beyond recognition, sprawled across the dirt.
Lying flat behind a rock, I couldn't even breathe loudly.
Cold sweat poured down my back like rain.
Dokgo Yeong was a notorious demonic fiend, yet he had practically slaughtered him one-sidedly.
The bigger problem was that unorthodox martial arts had been mixed into the bold blade technique of the Hebei Peng Clan.
He'd said it was for revenge, but an orthodox martial artist laying hands on a demonic art was something the world would never tolerate.
And right now, the only witness to it was me.
‘I'm going to die a dog's death.’
I swallowed dryly and watched the Ink Guest's movements.
Should I run?
No, could I even run?
That was when it happened.
Whoosh—!
The Ink Guest lightly swung his blood-drenched great blade through the air.
The dark red blood clinging to the blade fanned out and splattered across the bamboo stalks.
The motion of shaking the blood off the blade was so concise it gave me goosebumps.
Clack.
The massive great blade slid into its scabbard as if returning home.
The Ink Guest didn't stand there in a daze.
He didn't stagger either.
He took a handkerchief out from inside his robes and calmly wiped away the blood spattered on his face.
He had just reduced a man to mush in a fit of rage moments ago, and yet his breathing was calm.
‘......He's perfectly fine?’
I thought he'd been swallowed by madness.
I thought he'd lost his reason.
But right now, he was keeping a colder head than anyone.
That cool composure was even more frightening.
The Ink Guest's hand, which had been wiping away the blood, stopped.
He slowly turned his head.
His gaze was fixed precisely on the rock where I was hiding.
“I know you are there.”
A low, deep voice.
There was no killing intent in it.
But it carried a heavy, irresistible pressure.
“Come out.”
I hesitated for a moment.
Should I bolt right now without looking back?
No, it was impossible.
At that distance, my head would obviously be saying goodbye to my body before I could even take a single step.
Then there was only one option.
If I wanted to live, I had to be bold.
Even if I was scared, I at least had to pretend to be bold.
I took a deep breath in and let it out.
Then I got up from behind the rock.
My legs were shaking so badly I almost collapsed, but I forced strength into my thighs.
Crunch, crunch.
The sound of stepping on fallen leaves seemed unusually loud.
Wearing the same expression I used for nightmare customers at the inn, I approached him as naturally as I could.
The Ink Guest stared down at me.
Up close, he was even more enormous.
It wasn't just that he was big.
The presence radiating from his body bore down on a person.
His eyes were deep and calm.
The madness that had been tearing a murderer apart only moments ago was nowhere to be found.
“......”
“......”
A suffocating silence passed.
I had to say something.
‘Nice weather, isn't it?’ was out, because the corpse on the ground was too horrific.
‘Good work,’ was out too, because the situation was far too grim.
Then the Ink Guest spoke first.
“Either you have no fear, or you have no sense.”
He tossed the bloodied handkerchief onto the ground as he spoke.
“Most would run. Those who walk out on their own two feet after seeing a sight like this are rare.”
At his words, I let out a hollow laugh.
As the tension eased a little, my true feelings slipped out before I knew it.
“If I ran, you'd chase me down and cut me, wouldn't you? Better to die looking you in the face than to die showing you my back.”
“Hoh.”
The corners of the Ink Guest's mouth rose ever so slightly.
“That is not wrong.”
He laughed dryly.
“Show your back and you get cut......”
The Ink Guest nodded.
“You read it exactly. My temperament is a goddamn wreck, you see. I have a habit of not being able to hold back when I see the back of a fleeing man's head.”
A chill ran down my spine.
It didn't sound like a joke.
It was as if the vengeful ghosts of countless ‘fugitives’ cleaved by that great blade flashed past.
I kept up a forced smile and shrugged.
“Then I chose right after all.”
“Indeed.”
The Ink Guest took a step closer.
His enormous shadow fell over me.
“You have earned the right to live.”
The right to live.
For a moment, I couldn't tell whether that was praise or a threat.
The Ink Guest moved only his eyes to look down at the lump of meat sprawled on the ground, Dokgo Yeong.
“Thousand Faces, Dokgo Yeong. A genius of disguise. I chased him for the past three years, but I could not so much as step on his shadow.”
His eyes darkened for a moment.
“He always lived under a different guise. As a peddler, as a passing old man, sometimes as the hostess of a tavern. Today was no different. A Mount Hua disciple. I was very nearly completely fooled.”
The Ink Guest looked at me again.
This time it wasn't mere interest.
It was a look that held clear acknowledgment.
“Had it not been for you, I would have lost my wife's enemy once again, even with him right before my eyes.”
I swallowed hard.
It felt strange to be acknowledged by a monster of an expert like this.
It was frightening, but honestly, it was also a little thrilling.
“A mere waiter, seeing through a disguise that fools even the experts of the martial world.”
The Ink Guest asked.
“Have you learned martial arts?”
“No. I don't know a rat's horn about it.”
I quickly waved my hands.
“I've just picked up a knack for reading people from earning my keep. If I look at the dirt on a customer's shoes or the dust on his clothes, I can come up with a rough estimate.”
“An estimate?”
“Whether a guy's going to skip out on his wine bill, or he's a sucker who'll toss me a few pieces of silver.”
The corners of the Ink Guest's mouth twisted.
“A sucker, is it.”
“Ah, of course, I don't mean that you're a sucker, Master.”
I quickly added.
“You're closer to a grim reaper who'd leave not even the bones of anyone who crosses you wrong.”
“You certainly have a way with words.”
The atmosphere eased considerably.
At least I didn't have to worry about my head coming off right away.
The Ink Guest tapped the hilt of his great blade and asked.
“What is your name?”
“Pardon?”
“Leaving while pretending not to know the name of one's benefactor is not the way of the martial world.”
Benefactor.
It was an undeserved title.
But there was no reason to turn it down.
Putting a monster of an expert like this in my debt was pretty good insurance.
I bowed at the waist and answered clearly.
“I'm Lee Gap-saeng, a waiter of the Heavenly Fragrance Pavilion.”
“Lee Gap-saeng.”
The Ink Guest rolled my name around in his mouth.
“Does it mean you should survive as hard as armor, as in ‘gap’? It is rustic, but it is a name that suits you well.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“Yes, it is a compliment. Your nerve, you who carry noodle bowls, is far better than those brats who swagger about calling themselves scions of prestigious clans and whatnot.”
He reached into his robes.
I flinched for a moment out of nerves, but what he took out wasn't a weapon.
It was a hefty-looking bundle of bank notes.
“Take it.”
Thump.
The bundle of bank notes came flying at my chest.
I caught it on reflex, and my eyes went wide.
‘How much is all this?’
Even at a rough glance, it easily came to more than fifty taels of silver.
It was a fortune I'd hardly get to touch in my whole life.
“Why...... are you giving this to me?”
“It is payment for information.”
The Ink Guest said it as if it were nothing.
“Thanks to the information you gave, I caught him, and thanks to that, I was able to take down my enemy. This much is a paltry sum.”
My heart was pounding.
This was it.
This was why I'd risked my life to join this gamble.
You have to take risks to get bigger returns.
Life really does come down to one big score.
Barely holding back a grin that stretched from ear to ear, I stuffed the bank notes deep into my robes.
“Thank you, Master! From now on, whenever you come to the Heavenly Fragrance Pavilion, I'll serve you noodles for free for the rest of your life. Double portions, piled high with garnish.”
“No need for noodles. They tasted bad.”
“Ah...... I see.”
Old Man Wang would grab the back of his neck if he heard that, but so what.
As long as he gives me money, it's not just my noodles that taste bad, it's Old Man Wang's noodles too.
The Ink Guest made to turn away as if his business was done.
Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he stopped again.
He looked closely at me. At my eyes, to be exact.
“Wait.”
“Yes? Uh, is there something else you need me to do......?”
“Can you read?”
It was a question out of nowhere.
I nodded.
“I can read. I have to keep the ledgers, and sometimes I sneak a look at books that customers leave behind.”
“Hmm.”
The Ink Guest stroked his chin.
His gaze swept over me from head to toe.
Like a horse trader picking out a horse.
Like a seasoned blacksmith examining a lump of iron.
“No inner arts. Ordinary bones and muscles. Even if you took up a blade, you would not last long.”
“You don't have to be quite that honest about it.”
“But your senses are sharp.”
The Ink Guest's eyes gleamed strangely.
“Eyes that pierce through to the essence from trivial traces. The guts to wag your tongue even in the face of death. And above all......”
“Above all?”
“Shamelessness.”
For a moment, I was at a loss for words.
“Is that a strength?”
The Ink Guest chuckled.
“Perhaps someone like you could reach complete mastery.”
“Reach complete mastery of what?”
Instead of answering, the Ink Guest took another item out from deep inside his robes.
This time it wasn't bank notes.
It was a thin, worn, tattered booklet covered in black leather.
Strange characters were written on the cover in red ink.
Yin Kill Secret Record.
“Take it.”
He tossed the book to me.
The moment I snatched the book out of the air as it came flying, a chill crept up from my fingertips.
“This is...... what?”
When I asked, the Ink Guest opened his mouth with a strange expression.
“I received your help, and my pride will not allow me to settle it with a few coins. It is quite a precious thing in its own way, but to a man like me, it is worth less than a pot stand.”
He gestured with his chin at Dokgo Yeong's body.
“It is a secret technique of assassins. It holds the arts of tracking a target, losing one's trail, and hiding one's presence.”
“Yin Kill Secret Record......”
I swallowed hard.
The worn booklet in my hand suddenly felt as heavy as a thousand catties.
Even to me, who picked up idle rumors drifting around the martial world every day, this name was not unfamiliar.
Fifty years ago.
A legendary assassin who was said to have slipped deep into the imperial palace, assassinated the Emperor without even a mouse or a bird knowing, and vanished.
The Shadowless Ghost.
The secret manual he was said to have left behind.
That thing everyone wanted but no one could get was now in my hands.
“Are you really giving something this precious to me?”
My voice trembled on its own.
This wasn't a matter of a few coins.
It was a treasure that martial artists of the martial world would go wild over and charge after.
The Ink Guest nodded calmly.
“To me it is no different from a bundle of paper anyway. I am a man who knows nothing but smashing through head-on with a blade. Arts that only rats like that one use do not suit my nature.”
He cast a contemptuous glance at Dokgo Yeong's body, crushed into the ground.
“But you are different.”
The Ink Guest's gaze landed on me again.
“You have no strength. But you have an eye. This secret manual will give wings to your talent.”
My heart was pounding.
He was right.
I didn't know how to swing a blade.
I had no inner arts either.
I couldn't take up a great blade and cut villains in two like the Master.
But I saw what others passed over, and heard what others let slip by.
This secret manual was practically tailor-made for me.
Without hesitation, I threw myself flat on the ground.
THUD!
I slammed my forehead into the dirt.
“Master! No, Benefactor! I won't forget this kindness even in death!”
There was no pretense.
This was sincere.
Bank notes, and a secret manual on top of that.
With a rope right in front of me that would pull my life up out of the gutter, why couldn't I bow a hundred times?
The Ink Guest seemed a little flustered and moved his feet back.
“Get up. This is uncomfortable.”
“No! Not even my parents gave me anything like this. From today on, I'll serve you as the fath...... no, as my Big Hyung-nim in my heart!”
“Enough. I said get up.”
He clicked his tongue, but he didn't seem to mind it.
I quietly raised my head.
If not now, I'd never see this man again.
I had to at least know his name if I was going to make use of it later or repay the debt.
As politely and courteously as I could, I pressed my hands together and asked.
“Um, I know this is shameless of me...... but may I ask your honored name? Sending you off without knowing my Benefactor's honored name would be a lifelong disgrace for Lee Gap-saeng, waiter of the Heavenly Fragrance Pavilion.”
The Ink Guest didn't answer for a while.
He looked at the distant sky.
A red sunset was falling between the bamboo trees.
A deep shadow fell across the side of his face.
After a long silence, he opened his mouth.
“......Peng Hwi.”
As I thought.
I muttered briefly to myself.
To be honest, I'd already guessed it from what Dokgo Yeong said.
The second son of the Hebei Peng Clan.
The man who was once the Peng Clan's great hope, but who had wandered the martial world ever since his wife's death.
The Mad Tiger, Peng Hwi.
“......So you're Master Peng after all.”
“No.”
Peng Hwi shook his head.
A lonely smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.
“I am no longer a man of the Peng Clan.”
He raised his left hand to show me.
The hand that had seized Dokgo Yeong's flexible sword bare-handed.
The hand that black demonic qi had swept through was dark and dead.
“I abandoned the orthodox path for revenge. I borrowed the power of the heretical demonic path to catch him. Now I am someone who can no longer show his face in the martial world.”
There was no regret in his voice, but a deep loneliness had seeped into it.
A scion of a prestigious orthodox sect had laid hands on a forbidden power.
He could not return to his clan, nor could he call himself a hero.
He had decided to exile himself from the martial world.
“I intend to go into seclusion. Deep in the mountains where no one reaches, or some nameless island.”
Peng Hwi readjusted his scabbard.
It was time to leave.
“The martial world is vast, and there are many extraordinary people. Do not lose heart just because you could not learn inner arts.”
He looked at me.
“With that shamelessness and that eye of yours, you will not starve to death anywhere.”
“I'll keep that in mind. Big Hyung-nim.”
“I told you not to call me Big Hyung-nim.”
He chuckled.
It was the first relaxed smile he had shown.
“Farewell, Lee Gap-saeng.”
He turned around.
“If we are lucky...... we will meet again someday.”
Whoosh—!
That was the end of the farewell.
Peng Hwi's figure blurred, then vanished along with the wind.
It felt less like movement arts and more like he had melted away like a ghost.
The empty bamboo forest.
I stared blankly at the spot where he had disappeared.
In my hands were a hefty bundle of bank notes and a worn secret manual, <Yin Kill Secret Record>.
It wasn't a dream.
I hugged the Yin Kill Secret Record tightly to my chest.
My heart was pounding.
What was this feeling?
Fear?
No, it wasn't that.
Anticipation.
Excitement.
And a slightly unfamiliar greed.
Before I knew it, the corners of my mouth were twitching.
“Life sure is......”
Amid the stench of blood in the bamboo forest, I raised my head and looked up at the sky.
A brilliantly clear blue sky spread out, dazzling.
“Damn, the weather's disgustingly nice.”