Chapter 70: Ghostly and Elusive (1)
Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom returned to Deyang Inn.
Hwa Yeon-seol had suggested they stay at the Trading Company, but by now, the inn felt far more comfortable to the two of them.
Already having drunk quite a bit at the Trading Company, the moment they got back to the inn, they made some simple side dishes and continued drinking.
It was a rare holiday, a trip for leisure, so they enjoyed every moment.
They had saved one of the Ten Great Trading Companies of the Martial World, and they had killed the Vice Leader of the Heavenly Poison Alliance. Yet for them, this journey through the murim was, at its core, simply a pleasure trip.
With faces slightly flushed, the two men went upstairs. Like any other inn, Deyang Inn was equipped with guest rooms.
Since they had rented the entire inn, there were plenty of rooms left, and the two each took one.
As Seo Yu-gyeom opened his door along the hallway, he spoke.
“Let’s return in three days.”
“Why three days?”
It was neither one day, nor two, nor four—an oddly precise period.
Seo Yu-gyeom chuckled lightly and replied.
“There’s someone I need to meet one last time.”
“I see.”
Jin Seong-un nodded casually and went into his room.
Seo Yu-gyeom liked that indifferent attitude of Jin Seong-un’s. It somehow made people feel at ease.
After changing clothes, Jin Seong-un looked around his room.
It struck him anew that although Deyang Inn was old, it was worthy of being called the best inn in Deyang.
The room was neither large nor luxurious. Yet, thanks to the well-maintained old wallpaper, floors, and furniture, it gave off an antique charm.
Many travelers must have stayed in this room.
Martial artists, peddlers, tourists, scholars, fugitives and pursuers, entertainers, escorts and porters...
Each room carried countless stories, layered over with the innkeeper’s care and effort.
It was a space where people always dwelled.
“Such is an inn.”
Jin Seong-un nodded to himself.
By that standard, Seong-un Inn was still only half-complete. Once he returned to Yichang, he should consider adding proper guest rooms.
Ho Yeon-baek, the former Chief of Hwa-un Trading Company.
When Sa Ryeong-geuk had taken the Black Path forces of Deyang to attack Deyang Inn—
He had stayed behind at the Trading Company and waited. Though he had learned martial arts, he believed that fighting was the work of true martial artists.
But as Sa Ryeong-geuk’s return was delayed longer than expected, his heart grew anxious, and by the time dawn broke, Ho Yeon-baek finally realized.
‘It’s all ruined.’
He was a man who had worked for decades as the Chief of a vast Trading Company such as Hwa-un.
His intuition and judgment were precise.
The moment he realized things had gone wrong, he immediately gathered his money and fled.
Yet there was one thing he had not anticipated—the warriors of the Heavenly Poison Alliance and the Tang Clan were clashing at the borders of Deyang.
For Ho Yeon-baek to break through that was impossible.
So, he returned to Deyang once more.
A day later, word spread that Sa Ryeong-geuk was dead.
The Four Great Black Path Gangs of Deyang—the Four Dragons River Gang, Dark Sun Sect, Azure Wild Valley, and Twilight Pavilion—were all annihilated in less than half a month.
Hiding in some inn, waiting as quiet as a dead rat, Ho Yeon-baek suffered from unbearable fear.
Not because of the Heavenly Poison Alliance or Hwa Yeon-seol’s revenge.
Seo Yu-gyeom.
That demon-born Heaven-Slaying Star. He believed that monster would certainly come to kill him.
The memory of those eyes, glaring at him in the alley, chilled his very bones.
Even if he ran, Seo Yu-gyeom had to be killed. As long as he lived, there would be no place in the Central Plains where Ho Yeon-baek could live at ease.
So, Ho Yeon-baek waited.
Once every three days—
Until the day Deathshroud opened its commission list.
The time had come.
Disguised in shabby clothes and pressing his bamboo hat low over his face, he moved only through secluded alleys.
Ever on guard, he finally arrived at a small Cloth Shop in Deyang.
The shop was so shabby one had to wonder how it even stayed in business. Inside, an old man with hair gone completely white was dozing off.
“You there.”
Ho Yeon-baek lowered his voice and called out. But still, the old man showed no sign of waking.
Even after calling several more times, nothing changed.
Growing heated, Ho Yeon-baek snapped.
“...Hey, you!”
Startled, the old man opened his eyes wide and wiped away the drool at his lips.
With a faint sigh, Ho Yeon-baek pulled out what he had prepared and handed it over.
Detailed information on Seo Yu-gyeom, along with promissory notes from Myriad Gold Manor.
“This time, you must deal with him without fail.”
The old man stared fixedly at the money and documents.
When he remained silent, Ho Yeon-baek frowned.
“Why no reply?”
“Don’t ask me. You’ll have to settle it with him.”
The old man pointed to the corner of the shop. There, a man stood with arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
When Ho Yeon-baek recognized his face, his legs gave out and he collapsed.
It was Seo Yu-gyeom.
“Not one step outside of my expectations.”
Seo Yu-gyeom smiled faintly as he walked out from the shadows.
Ho Yeon-baek’s face twisted as though he were seeing a ghost. How could this man possibly be here, in Deathshroud...?
In an instant, fragments clicked together in his mind.
Soon he reached one conclusion.
“You... you were in Deathshroud all along! That’s why they...!”
He was seized with both immense fear and a deep sense of betrayal. Fear of Seo Yu-gyeom, and betrayal by Deathshroud.
Seo Yu-gyeom strode closer and spoke.
“If you had simply fled quietly, you might have lived. But you had to stir up trouble till the end. That’s why you’ll die.”
In his hand gleamed the Heaven-Slaying Dagger.
For a moment, Ho Yeon-baek thought of begging for his life. But he could not say it aloud.
The eyes looking at him held not even the slightest will to let him live.
Seo Yu-gyeom crouched before him and asked.
“Any last words?”
“...You wretched bastard.”
“Memorable.”
Seo Yu-gyeom burst out laughing and then drove the Heaven-Slaying Dagger into Ho Yeon-baek’s throat.
Blood gushed onto the floor as Ho Yeon-baek let out a dreadful sound and collapsed lifelessly.
Seo Yu-gyeom wiped the blood from the Heaven-Slaying Dagger with a rag from the old man’s desk and said—
“Take care of the cleanup yourself.”
“I still don’t understand why the Vice Leader keeps you alive. Deathshroud has never forgiven traitors.”
The old man clicked his tongue.
The look in his eyes as he gazed at Seo Yu-gyeom carried faint contempt.
Seo Yu-gyeom smiled softly at him regardless and spoke.
“Come have a meal before you die. Then you’ll understand.”
Soon after, Seo Yu-gyeom gathered up all the promissory notes from Ho Yeon-baek’s robe, handed one over to the old man, and left the Cloth Shop.
Thus ended the matter in Deyang.
The farewell with Hwa Yeon-seol was awkward, but there was no enmity left, and under the alliance of the Tang Clan and Hwa-un Trading Company, Deyang would become a more livable town.
Of course, the somewhat damaged furnishings of Deyang Inn were promised to be repaired at the expense of Hwa-un Trading Company.
With lightened hearts, Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom departed from Deyang.
This time, they chose to travel by carriage.
If they returned to Yichang, chances to take such trips would be rare for a while.
The coachman’s skill was exceptional, driving along the mountain paths as smoothly as if they were paved roads in Chengdu.
It had not been so smooth from the beginning.
Twice, bandits had blocked the road, and Seo Yu-gyeom and Jin Seong-un had held “conversations” with them.
Since then, the coachman treated them with utmost respect.
As he watched the scenery flow past the window, Jin Seong-un suddenly spoke.
“There’s the sea.”
Seo Yu-gyeom looked out with a baffled face. Indeed, a vast horizon stretched out, enough to make one think it was the sea.
Of course, there could be no sea between Sichuan and Hubei.
“It’s a lake. Dongting Lake.”
It was known as one of the greatest lakes of the Central Plains, alongside Taihu, Lake Yongje, and Lake Poyang.
Jin Seong-un stared blankly at the endless expanse, as if it were truly the sea.
Because the lake was so enormous, commerce had developed greatly around it.
Curious about what kind of food was sold here, Jin Seong-un suggested,
“Let’s eat before we go.”
The carriage stopped in front of an inn.
Since carriage travelers were rare, people glanced at them curiously.
Jin Seong-un invited the coachman to join as well.
“Come eat with us.”
The coachman declined a few times.
But since they were traveling a long distance together, leaving the coachman out was unthinkable, so Jin Seong-un kept insisting.
At last, the coachman smiled helplessly and followed them into the inn.
.
.
.
The coachman abstained from wine, citing his duty to drive.
The three men ate in near silence. That was simply how men often shared meals.
Surprisingly, the food sold at Dongting Lake was not much different from that of any other inn.
But the people gathered inside were different.
It seemed as if every kind of person under heaven was here.
Merchants and martial artists, families on trips, even men who looked like officials.
Jin Seong-un thought such inns had their own kind of charm.
Then it happened.
A conversation at a merchants’ table caught both his and Seo Yu-gyeom’s attention.
“They say the Murim Alliance is moving this time.”
“Then that fellow will soon be caught.”
Jin Seong-un chewed absentmindedly, focusing on the story.
Someone must be on the run after committing some crime.
Perhaps, like the Food Butcher last time, it was a public enemy of the martial world.
The merchants’ chatter continued.
“Who knows? Even the Namgung Clan boasted they’d catch him, but he slipped away.”
A flash crossed Jin Seong-un’s eyes.
If even the Namgung Clan, one of the Five Great Clans of the Orthodox Faction, had failed, then the fugitive’s skill must have been extraordinary.
“What did he steal this time?”
“They say it was the undergarments of the Murim Alliance’s Hundred Strategist.”
“...A lecher?”
“But they say the Strategist is a man.”
“...A sodomite?”
By then, Jin Seong-un, Seo Yu-gyeom, and the coachman had all stopped moving their chopsticks.
The Hundred Strategist of the Murim Alliance commanded a hundred men, a fairly high-ranking officer.
To steal from such a person meant risking one’s life to infiltrate the Alliance itself.
And after infiltrating, to steal only undergarments—it was hard not to be curious.
At last, Seo Yu-gyeom could not resist. He stood and approached the merchants.
“Sirs, what on earth are you talking about? I’m so curious I can’t eat.”
Though he smiled easily, the merchants looked wary for a moment. His features were too cold, too sharp.
Then Seo Yu-gyeom smiled more warmly and added,
“Oh, I work as a cook at an inn, you see. I just love hearing such rumors.”
At the mention of “cook,” their guard lessened somewhat. Inns were valuable places for merchants who traveled everywhere.
Soon their explanation flowed.
Whether out of love for storytelling or gossip, their words were exaggerated and dramatic, but in essence:
There was a thief.
A truly exceptional thief.
He robbed famous places without distinction—orthodox sects, unorthodox sects, government offices, trading companies, even temples.
The problem was that he was so ghostly and elusive that no one could catch him.
Even when renowned manors took extreme precautions and requested escorts from powerful martial sects, they were robbed.
When word spread that those sects included the Qingcheng Sect, Shandong Ak Clan, and Namgung Clan, the rumor spread across the entire land like wildfire.
“There’s another rumor.”
Encouraged by Seo Yu-gyeom’s enthusiasm, the merchants leaned in and spoke solemnly.
“They call him the Divine Thief Without Shadows.”
At that very moment, Jin Seong-un spat out his wine.
The merchants and Seo Yu-gyeom glanced at him strangely, then continued.
“They say the successor of the Divine Thief Without Shadows has appeared.”
“Oh, the Divine Thief Without Shadows!”
Seo Yu-gyeom’s eyes lit up in admiration.
Others might dismiss thieves as “gentleman bandits,” mocking them, but for an assassin like Seo Yu-gyeom, it was different.
Thieves and assassins were separated by the thinnest of lines.
If one carried treasure, he was a thief; if one carried a severed head, he was an assassin.
If the legend of the Divine Thief Without Shadows was true, then he was also the greatest assassin of his age.
Returning to his seat, Seo Yu-gyeom spoke to Jin Seong-un.
“Shall we try catching this thief?”
“...”
“He might really be the disciple of the Divine Thief Without Shadows!”
Jin Seong-un remained silent.
For the disciple of the Divine Thief Without Shadows was sitting right here.
And for the record, he had no interest in stealing the Murim Alliance’s Hundred Strategist’s undergarments.