Chapter 140

Chapter 140
## Chapter 140: Dreaming of Revenge (3)

—

“Explain yourself. You’re saying they were annihilated?”

Heo Ok came to a dead stop, his features twisted in disbelief as he barked the question.

“It is true. Our initial line of defense has been utterly collapsed.”

Hak Il-gon lowered his gaze, his posture heavy with the weight of the failure.

“That is impossible. Scarcely enough time has passed to burn a single incense stick since they breached the perimeter. Regardless of their prowess, dismantling every fortification in such a narrow window…”

“They didn’t dismantle them. They bypassed every single trap positioned at the strategic narrows.”

“…”

The silence that followed was heavy as Heo Ok processed the meaning.

Navigating that terrain while avoiding every hidden mechanism was a feat only those of the Blood Forest’s original lineage could achieve.

“Identify them. Are they remnants allied with the previous grove lord?”

A freezing aura of murderous intent surged in Heo Ok’s gaze.

“Gwa Yu survived that night.”

“Gwa Yu? Ah, that little brat.”

Heo Ok’s eyes flickered with a brief, unsteady light.

“So the boy managed to keep his life. I recall the account of his escape during the purge. It appears he has returned seeking retribution.”

“That is the only logical conclusion.”

“He is well aware of our strength here, yet he invades with such arrogance—it implies a high level of certainty. He must place immense faith in his subordinates. What is their headcount?”

“We have identified four individuals accompanying Gwa Yu thus far.”

“Only four.”

Heo Ok’s expression turned grim and contemplative.

Had Gwa Yu arrived with a small army, he wouldn’t have felt this unease. But for someone who understood the true power of the Blood Forest to return for vengeance with only four companions meant those four had to be monsters in their own right.

“Our losses will likely be significant.”

He didn’t entertain the notion of losing the overall conflict. Even so, based on the reports, he realized they would have to pay a steep price in blood.

“Furthermore, there was a mention of a wolf.”

Heo Ok’s temper flared at Hak Il-gon’s additional detail.

“A wolf? What idiocy is this? As if the presence of a beast changes the tides of this battle.”

In a moment of such high stakes, being bothered with reports about an animal grated on his nerves.

“Please forgive my lapse.”

Hak Il-gon bowed deeply. Even though he was merely passing on the words of his scouts, he realized he had made a mistake by irritating his master.

“Where are the elders located?”

“They should have mobilized by this point.”

“Those sluggish, ancient fools.”

Heo Ok spat the words in derision, though the tension in his face eased slightly.

The elders he mentioned—the premier killers of the Blood Forest—did not hold their titles by accident.

It was a distinction reserved for the nightmares who had successfully completed over a hundred high-profile assassinations.

Within the ranks of the Blood Forest’s hundred and fifty assassins, only five, himself included, had attained elite status. Even within that top tier, a hierarchy existed. Heuk-am, who had recently perished, possessed the most tenure due to his years, though his raw combat ability had begun to fail him.

Inevitably, his thoughts turned to the Blood Forest’s most lethal asset.

“Has Cheon Bing-hwa engaged?”

“Indeed. I am told she was the first to depart the moment word of the intrusion reached her.”

“That lunatic woman.”

Even among the stone-cold killers of the Blood Forest, the mention of that bloodthirsty maniac caused a shiver. He found her presence exhausting, but if she was on the hunt, the invaders were as good as dead.

—

“Yawn.”

As Mu Eop and Gwa Yu remained concealed in the thickets, each burning with the effort to sense the other’s heartbeat, Cheol Woo—who had already concluded his own skirmish—let out a long, disinterested yawn.

“They’re taking forever.”

Cheol Woo brushed away a tear of boredom and peered into the murky depths of the forest.

“They are assassins, after all,” Noe Jeon remarked, her attention locked onto the Thunderbolt Forest.

“I suppose so. Looking back, the most mind-numbing part of our training in Black Dragon Valley was the stealth drills. Suppress your breath, hold your position, wait for an eternity—it was incredibly dull.”

“An assassin must land the opening blow to ensure they aren’t the one who falls.”

“That is exactly what’s happening. Both think the first one to twitch is a dead man, so they’re just sitting in the dirt.”

“Can Gwa Yu actually win this? You mentioned his opponent appeared to have the upper hand.”

Man Chu spoke up, her voice tinged with concern.

“He’s technically more skilled, sure, but the gap isn’t a canyon. If this were the Gwa Yu we first met, he’d be dead already. But he’s leveled up significantly since he started running with us. He’s survived his share of hellish fights. It doesn’t guarantee a win, though. That’s why the boss is keeping watch.”

“I understand.”

Man Chu felt a slight relief at Cheol Woo’s assessment, though her eyes remained shadowed with worry.

“If Gwa Yu pulls this off, he’ll transcend his current limits. But we can’t stay here all night—maybe I should give them a little push.”

Cheol Woo stood up, drawing the eyes of Man Chu and Noe Jeon.

“What are you up to now?” Noe Jeon asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Their standoff is like a string pulled too tight. What if I just snap it?”

“In what way?” Man Chu asked.

“Like this.”

Cheol Woo lifted a massive stone.

“This ought to rattle them. No telling who it helps, but it’ll end the waiting.”

Cheol Woo flashed a grin and was prepared to hurl the boulder into the clearing when—

“Wait.”

His head snapped to the side as he sensed a shift in the air.

Noe Jeon and Man Chu watched him with confusion as he carefully lowered the rock, but Cheol Woo merely pressed a finger to his lips, demanding absolute quiet.

‘Impressive.’

Cheol Woo’s eyes sharpened as he focused on a ghostly presence slipping through the northern woods. Even while he was talking, he hadn’t noticed the approach until this very moment—it wounded his ego.

The stranger’s ability to remain hidden was masterful.

Even after spotting the intruder, he nearly lost the trail several times.

By then, the assassin had moved within striking distance of Gwa Yu.

Cheol Woo wavered for a second.

This could end badly for Gwa Yu, yet he didn’t intervene. He knew Sima Geon couldn’t have missed what he just found.

Matching Cheol Woo’s intuition, Sima Geon had detected the hidden threat long before. Like him, she stayed her hand. Unless Gwa Yu was in immediate, unavoidable peril, she would not disrupt his trial.

The hidden assassin’s advance stopped.

After a heartbeat of stillness, a sudden, sharp intent to kill zeroed in on Gwa Yu. At that exact moment, Mu Eop—who had been waiting for just such a distraction—burst from his hiding spot.

Jarred by the sudden threat at his back, Gwa Yu’s response was a fraction of a second slow.

Mu Eop’s blade was already descending toward him.

Realizing a block would be too slow, Gwa Yu threw himself into a roll.

A stinging line of pain tore across his back.

As he tumbled toward the far side, he released a projectile. Seeing the small hidden weapon flying toward him, Mu Eop pulled his sword back to his chest to bat it away.

Even with a full-force parry, the dart’s momentum at such close range was too much to fully deflect.

A searing heat pierced Mu Eop’s left shoulder.

Ignoring the pain, Mu Eop kicked a cloud of soil toward the struggling Gwa Yu. The grit and pebbles momentarily robbed Gwa Yu of his vision.

As Gwa Yu raised a sleeve to shield his eyes, a volley of daggers hissed through the air.

Gwa Yu spun in a circle, grabbing his belt and lashing out.

Blades concealed within the fabric of the belt lashed out like bolts of light, clattering against Mu Eop’s daggers.

Bright sparks showered the ground, looking like swarms of glowing insects.

Shieeeek!

Mu Eop’s blade cut through the fading sparks, aiming for Gwa Yu’s ribs.

Predicting the path, Gwa Yu pivoted sharply and drove his own weapon forward.

As his blade sank into Mu Eop’s chest, Gwa Yu felt a surge of triumph. But in that very heartbeat, an overwhelming sense of doom washed over him.

He wrenched his body instinctively.

Blood sprayed from beneath his arm.

The pain hit a second later, but the rhythm of the fight allowed no pause.

Mu Eop followed up with a series of brutal slashes.

Driven back by the sheer force, Gwa Yu’s body was mapped with fresh, bleeding gashes.

With Gwa Yu unable to stabilize his defense, Mu Eop felt the certainty of the kill.

That was the moment arrogance took root.

Gwa Yu, who had endured the lopsided beating just to find a single opening, finally found it.

His hand moved with supernatural speed, twisting in an unnatural arc to seize Mu Eop’s wrist.

The Golden Claw of the Beggar Clan—a technique he had practiced with Man Chu as a joke—now became his salvation.

Despite his wrist being trapped, Mu Eop didn’t panic or struggle to pull back. Instead, he released his sword, countered the grip with a twist of his own, and jerked Gwa Yu forward with violent force.

As Gwa Yu stumbled into the trap, the dagger in Mu Eop’s left hand shot toward his stomach.

Just as the point was about to sink in, Gwa Yu exhaled three hidden needles he had been concealing in his mouth.

Mu Eop jerked his head to the side in a panic, but they were too close to avoid.

The needles buried themselves in his face—and one found its mark in his eye, a lethal strike.

As Mu Eop clambered back, clutching his face, Gwa Yu’s sword sought his throat. Expecting the man to be finished, Gwa Yu was surprised when Mu Eop blindly swung his dagger to deflect the blow.

Gwa Yu maintained the pressure, but Mu Eop fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, searching for any way to turn the tide. However, the loss of his sight was a debt he couldn’t pay.

“Gah!”

A choked, horrifying shriek broke from Mu Eop’s throat.

It wasn’t the stoic grunt of a warrior; it was the sound of pure, unadulterated torment.

His face contorted into a mask of agony. There, lodged in his lower body, was the very sword he had dropped earlier—buried to the hilt. Gwa Yu had noticed it on the ground during their struggle and had used a well-timed kick to drive it home.

Gwa Yu stepped toward the reeling Mu Eop, his voice cold and unwavering.

“I promised you death.”

“A piece of trash like you… Gurk!”

Mu Eop’s final insult ended in a bloody gurgle. His hand holding the dagger spasmed toward the sky, and the blade in his groin was driven even deeper until the crossguard touched skin.

Mu Eop’s mouth moved as if trying to form one last word, but Gwa Yu gave him no quarter.

Thinking of his fallen brother, Gwa Yu lunged. The steel tore through Mu Eop’s heart, and a flood of conflicting feelings washed over the victor.

The satisfaction of his long-awaited revenge was tangled with a hollow, heavy silence.

Gwa Yu sank to the ground next to Mu Eop’s mangled remains.

As the adrenaline ebbed away, his injuries began to scream.

The wounds Mu Eop had inflicted were numerous, and several were dangerously deep.

“What kind of assassin duel was that? It looked as messy as a back-alley scrap. Isn’t it supposed to be ‘one breath, one kill’?”

Cheol Woo walked over, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Are you alright?”

Man Chu ran to his side, her face pale with worry. Gwa Yu gave a faint, tired shake of his head.

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“Stop your whining,” Noe Jeon said with a laugh, helping him to his feet.

“It’s not whining,” Gwa Yu replied, trying to look offended.

“Can you walk?”

“I’ll manage. My revenge isn’t finished yet.”

“We will take it from here, so do not overextend yourself.”

At the sound of the new voice, everyone turned.

Sima Geon was standing right there, as if she had never left.