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When I think of white hair, I usually picture the distinctive hairstyle of the Nangong Clan.

A blue and white hair with a hint of green.

It was a representative part of the change resulting from deep cultivation.

‘So pure white.’

Yet, the figure before me had hair even whiter than that.

It wasn’t the white of aging.

The man looked to be somewhere between adulthood and middle age.

But that white hair held something more.

His white eyes were fixed on me.

‘What the hell.’

His gaze was clearly on me.

Yet, the sensation of making eye contact with him felt blurred.

How should I describe this feeling?

Though he was right in front of me.

I couldn’t properly recognize him.

The feeling was different from the stark contrast that comes with a vast difference in realms.

It was the epitome of strangeness.

As a vague discomfort rose up within me to my throat,

He suddenly drew out an unknown object from his robe and placed it over his face.

It turned out to be a mask.

A mask quite typical to see anywhere.

The peculiar thing was that it was not a whole mask but a half one.

I wondered why he’d suddenly wear something like that, and as soon as he donned the half-mask, the reason became clear.

Sssss…

“…!”

Once the mask was on, a change occurred.

The moment he wore the mask, his brilliant white hair began to darken to black.

The transformation happened in an instant.

It took mere seconds.

But that wasn’t all that changed.

‘…I can see now.’

The blurriness that only allowed me to see his hair and eyes disappeared.

This meant ‘recognition’ was beginning to set in.

I could finally make out his eyes, nose, and overall features.

What is this?

Is this the power of the mask?

‘A treasure…?’

Given the situation, I couldn’t help but conclude it was a treasure.

Moreover, he appeared to bear some familiarity.

‘Somehow, it looks familiar.’

Where had I seen this before?

Where had I encountered that half-mask that gives off such an unsettling vibe?

Where had I felt something akin to this?

‘Ah…!’

It clicked. I remembered where I’d seen the half-mask.

That was—

‘The one Jiegal Hyeok used.’

The brain of the Demonic Sect, the Heavenly Demon Jiegal Hyeok.

The mask he wore to cover the scar on his face resembled this one completely.

‘…Why does this man have that?’

The possibility that it wasn’t the same item was high.

Yet, I couldn’t shake the thought that this half-mask was indeed the same as the one Jiegal Hyeok carried.

Did that mask possess such an effect…?

“Kid.”

As I was staring intently at the man’s appearance, he suddenly spoke to me.

“Were you planning to keep staring?”

“…I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s fine. It’s just not common for someone to look at me.”

He said this while bringing the glass of water in his hand to his lips.

A glass of water.

Had he been holding a glass?

‘I didn’t even see that.’

Had he not worn the mask, I would have missed even this detail.

Realizing that sent chills down my spine.

For a martial artist to be unable to recognize another meant one was facing imminent death without even realizing it.

“…”

Having reached the Transformation Realm, how could I feel this way?

Who the hell is this man?

“You have an interesting expression.”

“…!”

“That’s a good habit. Keep striving forward.”

“…”

He caught onto my assessment of the situation and sensed the danger.

Despite knowing that, his demeanor was calm, as if our conversation had reached its natural conclusion.

“…Who are you?”

Who could this man be?

To create this level of tension, and yet he was a stranger to me.

I don’t think I know all the strong people renowned in the Central Plains.

I thought I knew quite a lot, but this man… I knew nothing about him at all.

Upon hearing my question, he subtly raised his chin and looked at me.

I hadn’t noticed when his eyes were white.

But now that they were black, they seemed even clearer.

Those pitch-black eyes revealing no depth.

Those who possessed such eyes were often those lost between life and death.

Most of them carried such eyes because they had no lingering attachment to life.

Or perhaps.

‘Because they’ve killed far too many people.’

Those who’ve extinguished an uncountable number of lives often had eyes like that.

That’s why I was even more curious.

What is this man’s true identity?

“It’s been ages since I heard a question about my identity.”

“…Is that so?”

“Yeah, usually, by the time someone asks me such things, they’re already dead.”

Now that’s a truly scary reason.

“An introduction… It’s been a long time since I’ve introduced myself to someone.”

The man’s gaze focused on my eyes.

It was a gaze not easily encountered.

If we continued locking eyes, I felt as though he could see through my innermost thoughts.

“But.”

Just then.

His voice pierced through my ears.

This felt different. The tone and pitch remained the same, yet it came off as thick.

I couldn’t help but salivate slightly.

As though urging me to swallow.

“Kid, it seems you already know, but do you want to hear it from me anyway?”

“…”

His words made my brows furrow.

Indeed, just as he said.

I had already surmised his identity.

If you ask me when did I start guessing?

‘…From the moment I saw his eyes.’

From the instant I had locked eyes with this man.

As the situation unfolded, I began piecing together the fragments slowly.

Such eyes and this hazy presence were characteristics usually observed in assassins.

I had encountered many assassins throughout my previous life.

And all of them had perished in my hands.

To meet an assassin and survive meant just one thing.

Killing or being killed.

‘This man…’

If I were to face him without his mask in a deadly confrontation.

I would not win.

It was a certainty born from the instinct for survival, eclipsing my pride.

‘What did he do to reach this point?’

How could one’s presence be so blurred?

The level of disparity that muted the very existence I used to perceive when sensing the Heavenly Demon.

What this man held was different from that.

He was concealing his existence to such a degree that despite standing before me and talking, it felt impossibly intricate and detailed.

‘Is that truly possible?’

It must be possible.

If one were facing an ordinary civilian with nothing to lose, such tactics could be feasible.

Yet, I was a martial artist who had reached the Transformation Realm.

One who had surpassed the peak often termed the Martial Artist’s grave.

In the midst of countless martial artists within the Central Plains, I qualified among the very few, likely just passing the thousand mark.

Ah, thinking about it, it’s a bit embarrassing…

My ears felt warm with shame.

Anyway.

‘With that level against me.’

Is that even plausible? It feels like the Central Plains is far too vast for such a concept.

And.

It’s certain that there are assassins who can achieve that level.

Isn’t it well-known?

There’s an assassin by the name of Night Assassins, notable for being exceptionally skilled but whose identity remained a mystery.

The most famous among those known across the Central Plains.

The Night Assassins.

The place where the most outstanding assassins gather in the Central Plains.

And their leader was rightly called the King of Assassins.

The King of Night.

“…The King of Demons.”

My response seemed to please him.

The corners of his lips subtly curled up.

Why would the King of Night, a figure whose true identity remains unknown to all, be here with the Sword Demoness?

After the incident had unfolded, we were finally at a stage of trying to recover.

“There’s not enough cloth…!”

The busiest among us was, unsurprisingly, the medical team.

“Damn it… the bleeding won’t stop.”

“Senior…!”

Blood and screams filled the air.

The physicians rushed about frantically, but the number of patients was overwhelming.

Even more so.

“Where did that new recruit from last time go…! I’m swamped here!”

“…That guy died while guarding another Gwandosaeng earlier.”

“…Damn it… what does he think he is, a martial artist!? We’re healers, not guards; I told him that multiple times!”

“…”

Shouting in frustration, yet my insides were rotting.

“Senior… I think we need more cloth.”

We were running low on materials to wipe the blood.

Amid this chaos, several had already succumbed.

Once it reached that level, even my master’s arrival wouldn’t change their fate.

It was nothing short of hellish.

The man who had been working nonstop clenched his lips.

He had run off from the medical team, seeking to escape this horror.

Yet here he was, watching the late-stage talents perish one by one as time went by.

The physician hid trembling hands as he continued moving. The blood wouldn’t stop flowing.

The scars were deep.

Injuries made to kill couldn’t help but be severe.

The wounds would not heal.

Those who died without receiving help had mustered over ten casualties.

“Bring another dagger. Before the fire goes out, I need to reignite it…”

As I passed by that physician, a delicate hand reached out.

The untouched hand brushed against the blood-soaked body of the martial artist without any qualms.

The physician gasped at the sight.

“Who are you! What are you doing…!”

While he was about to start yelling, he suddenly halted.

It was because he had met those azure eyes that seemed to contain the sky.

The emanating chill felt strangely normal coming from such a frigid-looking woman.

This was a figure the physician recognized.

A descendant from one of the Four Great Clans, the Moyong Clan.

This woman held a position as one of the late-stage talents.

It was the Sword Demoness, Moyong Hi-ah.

Sssss.

A chill emanated from Moyong Hi-ah’s outstretched hand.

The chill mixed with my blood and, for some reason, the gushing blood and screams gradually diminished.

“…What….”

“What are you doing?”

As the physician showed confusion, Moyong Hi-ah delivered her frigid command.

“You need to do your job. Are you just going to stand there watching?”

“…!”

Upon hearing her words, the physician snapped back to reality and hurriedly moved his hands.

There was no time to hesitate.

Time was passing.

Moyong Hi-ah blended in effortlessly among them, using her unique chill and the healed wounds to assist in treating the Gwandosaengs.

As time flowed, there finally came a moment when we could catch our breath.

The physician turned to her.

“…Thank you.”

Moyong Hi-ah gently nodded at the physician’s gratitude.

Both were in a dire state.

Her attire, which clearly looked expensive, was entirely stained with blood.

Her neatly styled hair was a mess, covered in blood.

The bloodstains on her snow-white cheeks made her appear enchanting, albeit eerily…

“Stop staring at me.”

At her words, the physician had no choice but to turn away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I have someone I’m attached to, so it’d be a bit uncomfortable if you gaze at me like that.”

“Excuse?”

When the physician asked, bewildered by her statement.

Moyong Hi-ah replied in her flat voice.

“Most who stared at me like that were always smitten with me.”

“…”

“Because being a bother isn’t my style. Please be cautious.”

Those words were irritatingly arrogant yet carried considerable weight since they came from the Sword Demoness.

The physician himself thought it was dangerous to feel that way.

“Seems like I’m not dead after all…”

“Excuse…?”

“No way it doesn’t work on that guy….”

I really don’t like this.

Moyong Hi-ah muttered quietly.

She, who was aware of her beauty, would naturally possess overwhelming charm.

Even in this dire situation, it made me think of that aspect.

‘Does she have an engagement?’

I couldn’t help but feel momentarily jealous, even if I didn’t know the details.

Putting that aside.

“Thank you once again for your help.”

The physician expressed his gratitude to Moyong Hi-ah.

For a scion from a prominent clan to offer assistance to that extent was truly extraordinary.

I had heard the members of the Moyong Clan were usually cold and calculating.

Could it be that she’s warm-hearted inside?

“Don’t feel the need to thank me. I couldn’t allow the bloodline of the engaged clansmen to perish so easily. Neither is it bad to incur a debt like this.”

“…”

Hearing her, the physician couldn’t suppress a bitter smile.

“Even so, you were a great help.”

“Of course. Thanks to that, my Lower Dantian is completely drained.”

The cold mixed with the healing had proven remarkably effective.

Even more so as Moyong Hi-ah didn’t merely use her powers for hemostasis; she possessed some knowledge of medicine.

Whatever the reason, she managed to save lives on the verge of death.

For the physician, that was more than enough.

As the physician looked at her, Moyong Hi-ah suddenly asked,

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

“…Huh?”

“The disciple of Shin Yi.”

“…”

The physician’s eyes widened at Moyong Hi-ah’s words.

…How does she know?

It shouldn’t have been common knowledge.

That I was a disciple of Shin Yi.

“…That’s…”

“I believe you’ll consider everything I’ve done as a debt owed to you.”

With a smirk, Moyong Hi-ah began to walk away.

The physician let out a tired chuckle.

So, you mean to say this was also part of some calculation?

Terrifying yet, on the other hand, felt like an amplified charm.

I had no idea how a brief encounter could lead to this.

It felt as though it would take a long time to erase those budding feelings.

Hence, the physician felt a twinge of jealousy.

Jealous of the person she referred to as her attachment.

Thud.

As she trudged along, Moyong Hi-ah finally let out the breath she had been holding.

‘…That was harder than I thought.’

It was only then that her exhausted body began to feel the weariness set in.

‘Was this the price for neglecting training?’

Most definitely, it would be the price for halting her training for the sake of healing.

On top of that, having used the cold she had sought to avoid amplified her fatigue.

‘What a fool’s errand to seek wealth and fame.’

Moyong Hi-ah let out a wry smile as she walked.

What was she suffering for?

‘How petty, showing up without me!’

Her anger flared as she remembered the man who had yet to show his face.

While she was toiling here, he hadn’t even glanced her way, only acknowledging the injured women.

How infuriating that was.

“If that’s how it’s going to be, then maybe I should have been injured too.”

Should she lay a curse upon her perfectly fine body?

Moyong Hi-ah found it ridiculous that she had even thought so.

It was an immature thought that didn’t align with her character.

Just then, she licked her lips.

“…He wouldn’t have gotten hurt, would he?”

She worried for the safety of the man she had been cursing earlier.

Everyone knew of the events that had transpired; there was no way to remain oblivious to them.

How had things escalated to such a point?

As she thought of what had unfolded, her head began to ache.

‘…This isn’t good.’

It wasn’t just about the ambush.

While that was part of it, it was a secondary concern since it had already taken place.

The future loomed larger as the real problem.

The Shinryong Temple, where the descendants of noble families had gathered.

The assassination that had taken several Gwandosaeng lives had occurred there.

While the Martial Alliance was currently aware or oblivious of the situation, they were not taking action.

‘Maybe they don’t know, and that’s why they’re being idle.’

When it eventually reached their ears…

That would pose a crisis.

A crisis for the Martial Alliance.

Visions of the future automatically manifested in her mind.

Moyong Hi-ah swept her hair back.

The sensation of dried blood caught between her fingers twisted her expression.

Amid it all, one thought emerged.

As the situation had devolved this much, the most immediate event to unfold lay elsewhere.

At this point, her own grim condition mattered far less.

And so it was that her focus turned to the most crucial matter at hand.

That would be…

“My father will come…”

The Clan Leader of the Moyong Clan, Baek Cheon-gyeomju.

He would have to step in personally now.

 

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