Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 83 - Night Guest

Chapter 83 – Night Guest

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Translated by Heavenly Cat

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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Ju-seong left the inn early the next day.

Having rested for two days, he planned to start his questioning, but first, he had to meet with Ok-wol’s group again.

They had agreed to meet every two days at a designated location to share their search findings.

They were supposed to meet on the main road by the north gate of Weizhong District’s fortress, but Ju-seong was slightly surprised when he saw who had arrived.

“Martial Senior Ok-wol, who is this person?”

One large, pale man was standing with the Emei women.

Ok-wol introduced the man to Ju-seong.

“This is Cheong-jin, the chief disciple of Qingcheng Sect.”

“Huh?”

Ju-seong looked at Cheong-jin with a bewildered expression. Cheong-jin was also examining Ju-seong with probing eyes.

Ju-seong asked in a puzzled tone.

“Wait, aren’t your main mountains currently at each other’s throats? Why are you so friendly here together?”

Ok-wol cleared her throat softly and explained.

“Taoist Cheong-jin requested cooperation while exposing his own sect’s shame. It was information that could be fatal for Qingcheng Sect, yet he didn’t hesitate to share it.”

“What is it that he revealed?”

Cheong-jin stepped forward and said.

“I should have introduced myself directly. My apologies. I am Cheong-jin, first and chief disciple of Qingcheng Sect. Martial Aunt Ok-wol, is it alright to tell this young hero?”

Ok-wol nodded.

“He is not someone unworthy of trust.”

Cheong-jin nodded and looked at Ju-seong as he spoke.

“Our sect publicly declared the child dead and entered full-scale war before his death was even properly confirmed.”

The moment Ju-seong heard that, he felt dazed as if struck on the head.

‘Is he crazy?’

It wasn’t just a bit of shame. Qingcheng Sect had declared war on Emei. And now it turned out the justification was built on a lie? The damage to their reputation would be immeasurable.

And to declare falsely over a child’s life, no less.

Someone who went around spouting such a weakness was either insane, or so firm in their convictions that they didn’t even consider other options.

Come to think of it, the second type was also insane.

Ju-seong stepped back slightly and opened his mouth.

“…So, Taoist Cheong-jin, you want to find the child, and we want to find the assassin who killed… no, kidnapped… him… Our interests align. That’s why you’re cooperating.”

Cheong-jin nodded.

“Exactly so. I hear you, Ju-seong, have an exceptionally keen sense of smell.”

Having said that, Cheong-jin held out a small wooden object. It was a miniature wooden sword sized for a child’s body.

“Hmm…”

Ju-seong took the wooden sword and activated his Celestial Nose.

He felt as if wind channels had opened in his head, allowing all sorts of olfactory information to flood in. Mixed with the deep scent of the sturdy hornbeam wood was the unmistakable smell of a young child’s sweat, soaked deep into the grain.

The child was a genius of effort. He had heard the boy was only about ten years old… to have this much sweat soaked into a wooden sword at that age showed he was no ordinary hard worker.

As Ju-seong memorized the child’s scent, he was suddenly seized by déjà vu.

‘I’ve smelled this somewhere before…’

Furrowing his brow in thought, a memory of the dim inn from last night flashed through Ju-seong’s mind.

The boy who had eaten his meat soup well.

Ju-seong’s eyes flashed as he looked up.

“I think I know where he is.”

“What, this keen? Even a hunting dog wouldn’t…”

Cheong-jin seemed to have slightly misunderstood, but Ju-seong led the group to the Shancha Inn without bothering to correct him.

* * *

A moment in the afternoon as the sunlight yellowed.

The door of the Shancha Inn opened, and long shadows crossed the dining hall floor.

Those who had barged in were a band of martial artists whose presence was decidedly ominous.

-Crash!

A man with a scar on his face deliberately bumped into a table, then spewing curses, flipped the entire table over.

“What the hell, eating in such an annoying spot!”

It was unprovoked, unmotivated harassment.

They behaved like cheap thugs, intimidating and driving out the inn’s patrons.

The martial artists even chased out the innkeeper and waiter, then scattered to take seats throughout the dining hall as if it were the most natural thing.

Only one person didn’t sit in a chair: a middle-aged man with long hair.

It was the Cheongpung Pavilion Master.

He had sent people to track Heuk-wol through the night and finally caught up to her.

“Heuk-wol, Heuk-wol! Your big brother has come. Won’t you show yourself!”

The middle-aged man called out with arms spread wide.

-Creak…

A pitch-black form leaped down into the center of the dining hall. A voice flowed from within the leather cloak.

“I have no idea what gives you the confidence to cause such a scene. Just curious… do you think the Ten Thousand Ears Gang can withstand the Holy Mother’s fury?”

Heuk-wol slowly drew her sword from within her cloak. The Pavilion Master traced the movement hidden inside her clothes in his mind as he replied.

“What happens to a woman about to die here isn’t the Gang’s concern. You two, go up to the room she was in and find that brat. Find him and kill him.”

At the Pavilion Master’s words, two men dressed as ruffians rose from their seats and began to move.

-Swish-! Thunk! Thunk! Two streaks of light shot out from inside the leather cloak and embedded themselves before the men, revealing themselves to be chain sickles.

“Hold it right there.”

“Chain sickles… So you did inherit the Hongzhu Sect’s true transmission. Interesting. Everyone, surround her carefully. We don’t know how many more chain sickles are inside that cloak.”

The two chain sickles embedded before the men were drawn back into her sleeve.

For an instant, as the Pavilion Master’s attention was stolen by the snake-like movement of the sickles retreating into their hole…

-Hum…!

A low sword cry rang through the hall, and a fresh vermilion color… ill-suited to the dreary scene… burst forth.

Though the Buddhist nature could be felt in the form of the sword energy, the sword technique being deployed carried thick killing intent.

The sword’s trajectory was straight and decisive.

Yet the wrist supporting the sword and the body carrying the wrist moved gracefully and elegantly.

Emei Sect was originally a sect of women.

In the old days, to match women’s strength, they used a light weapon called the Emei Dagger… a kind of iron awl sharpened at both ends, similar to a Judge’s Brush.

Later, as Emei Sect adopted and developed superior internal energy cultivation methods, such limitations vanished.

And once Emei Sect established itself as a major faction and the women of Emei Mountain could wear swords without reservation, the Emei Dagger fell out of use.

But traces remained in their swordsmanship, so Emei Sect’s sword techniques focused primarily on thrusting.

“Block it!”

The Pavilion Master shouted as he deflected the sword stabbing at him. He was a fist master who used iron gauntlets made of meteoric iron.

Heuk-wol’s vision quickly became chaotic.

There were those swinging whips, those using straight swords, curved swords, and axes… all different.

But the essence of “thrusting” was always simple.

Advance, and connect.

Emei Sect’s premier sword technique, the Wild Wind Sword Art, unfolded from her hands like wind that cuts through the chaotic world, leaps over mountains and cliffs, and blows through any obstacle.

-Clang! Clang-clang!

In an instant, the afterimages of sword energy multiplied into dozens, rampaging and opening a path ahead.

The assassins each raised their weapons to block the incoming sword energy.

And in that brief moment their movements halted…

-Creak!

The Pavilion Master’s extended fist and Heuk-wol’s sword tip met and locked in a contest of strength.

The sword was caught in the joint of his gauntlet.

The Pavilion Master smiled triumphantly. If he could buy just a moment’s time, the martial artists he’d brought would finish Heuk-wol off.

But then, Heuk-wol twisted her wrist. The blade spiraled in a twist and…

-Clang!

With a clear sound, the sword shattered into three pieces.

The tip was stuck in the gauntlet, and the hilt was in Heuk-wol’s hand.

The middle portion flew exactly as Heuk-wol intended and embedded itself in the Pavilion Master’s philtrum.

“Ugh!”

With a single groan, the Pavilion Master’s pupils contracted sharply.

Heuk-wol looked straight into his eyes and said.

“Did you still think I was some stuffy orthodox sect member?”

The Pavilion Master’s form crumpled lifelessly.

Then came the shadows lunging at her back.

Heuk-wol turned while simultaneously launching four chain sickles at once to meet them.

-Cla-clang!

A posture like a spider spreading its web in all directions. But just as close combat was about to begin, a cold voice descended upon the hall.

-Stop.

Heuk-wol felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

The assassins seemed to have felt the same, for they shrank back slightly and withdrew their weapons.

What entered through the inn’s door was a young man dressed as an ordinary farmer. His mild eyes and small build made his face absolutely average.

But no one was fooled by that face. The killing intent emanating from him made even the shadows on his face feel ominous.

“Well… The Pavilion Master’s dead. He’s replaceable personnel, so… Vajra Pavilion Master probably won’t say anything.”

One of the martial artists stepped aside and said.

“…We didn’t expect a Night Guest to grace us with their presence.”

‘Night Guest…’

Heuk-wol’s grip on her chain sickles tightened. She had heard about them from the Holy Mother. The “real” members of the Assassination Curtain.

The Night Guest slowly surveyed the hall before speaking.

“Heuk-wol, third adopted daughter of the Blood Flower Crone… If I kill you, a full-scale war with the Crimson Spider Sect begins. The Blood Flower Crone is famous for cherishing her adopted children who aren’t even blood relatives.”

Heuk-wol wound up her chain sickles to retrieve them and waited for the next words.

“That… sounds exciting. Much blood will flow.”

The Night Guest smiled sinisterly and let two sickles dangle from his hands. Farming tools befitting his farmer’s attire.

Whether they were his usual weapons or he had chosen them deliberately to avoid standing out was unclear.

That was what Night Guests were like. There was no weapon they couldn’t wield, no one they couldn’t kill… or so they boasted.

Heuk-wol felt death’s hand brushing the back of her neck.

But the Night Guest wasn’t the last customer at the Shancha Inn that day.

-Creak…!

The door opened. Because the chaotic marketplace was right outside, it was hard to notice someone approaching. The Night Guest furrowed his brow and turned his head.

A young man scanned the inn, let out a long whistle, and rattled on.

“My word… Lots of customers. The innkeeper must be pleased. Finally a busy day. Wait, no? Looking at these bastards…”

Ju-seong laced his fingers together, securing his gauntlets, and continued.

“Aren’t these sons of bitches trying to dine and dash? Every one of them looks like a dark path thug… That won’t fly in front of me. Not in front of me. Anyone who doesn’t pay isn’t leaving here today.”

While the Night Guest laughed in disbelief, Heuk-wol’s eyes widened slightly as she murmured.

“You…”

Ju-seong gave Heuk-wol a slight nod in greeting and said.

“We meet again. Did you sleep well last night? Starting tonight, the moon begins to wane.”

The Night Guest narrowed his eyes slightly and asked.

“Who are you?”

Ju-seong scratched his cheek and stared fixedly at the Night Guest before speaking.

“Oh, a Night Guest.”

The Night Guest sighed softly and said.

“…Does any random nobody recognize me now?”

He had just compared Ju-seong to common animals.

It was a probing jab, but Ju-seong’s counterattack was fierce.

Ju-seong pointed at the Night Guest and retorted.

“Ever thought this might be your fault? You tried too hard to look like a farmer. That’s why you got caught. Smearing dirt on purpose, patching things here and there… All kinds of nonsense. Think about it. Would a farmer who’s been tilling fields near here come dressed like he just got back from plowing when he finally visits the city for fun?”

“…”

“You lacked attention to detail, so my score is a mere two out of ten. Those two points are for effort alone. This is an amateurish disguise that hasn’t ripened evenly, you moron. If you’re going to disguise yourself, use your brain.”

In just a short time, a torrent of abuse poured out and filled the hall.

In truth, Ju-seong had noticed because the man didn’t carry the particular smells of a farmer.

No matter how skilled a Night Guest, mimicking that thoroughly would be difficult.

The Night Guest seemed to have stopped listening around the middle and, ignoring Ju-seong, focused on the three people behind him.

Ok-wol, Yang So-so, and Taoist Cheong-jin.

“Hmm.”

The Night Guest glanced at the Assassination Curtain’s first-class and special-class assassins on his side.

Then he turned his head again to assess his opponents before speaking.

“…Looks winnable.”

At the Night Guest’s words, Ju-seong immediately sneered back.

“Yeah, right.”

As he guessed, the Night Guest was underestimating the two Emei women and Ju-seong.

Ju-seong had skillfully hidden his aura and spoke lightly, so he didn’t seem like a master, and Ok-wol and So-so were first-rate and second-rate respectively.

‘But I’m stronger than expected, and this Cheong-jin fellow is even stronger.’

One shouldn’t be fooled by his drooping eyes and chubby cheeks. He was the first-generation disciple of Qingcheng Sect, its chief disciple no less.

If nothing went wrong, this man would become the future master of that Mok Yeo-woon prodigy.

Just as the Night Guest had calculated victory, Ju-seong foresaw a crushing win.

The Night Guest began advancing step by step with the assassins, forming a battle line.

With it came a release of killing intent.

It wasn’t innate. It was built up. With what?

His killing intent was murky, steeped in the resentment and hatred of those he had murdered. Standing against it felt like sinking into a swamp… an unpleasant sensation.

Ju-seong curled his lips crookedly and revealed his own killing intent.

An innate killing intent he possessed without having committed countless murders.

It was a beast’s killing intent.

Like a sharp knife slicing through leather, Ju-seong’s killing intent cut through and penetrated the Night Guest’s.

“…!”

The Night Guest’s eyes widened.

From Ju-seong’s lips leaked a cold growl.

“Come on in, you filthy human butchers.”