At first, Mu-hui considered dealing with the assassins separately, as he had just done, but he quickly changed his mind.

Those guys wouldn’t just target him quietly.

If things went wrong, they would aim for his disciples to create an opening, which could become a real nuisance.

‘These ones are different.’

Mu-hui’s instincts told him these were the real deal, not the half-baked amateurs from before. He immediately sent a mental message to his disciples.

[The rhythm of martial artists and assassins is different. Assassins pour everything into a single strike. At most, three exchanges. They don’t think about what comes next. It’ll be over in an instant.]

Hearing Mu-hui’s message, the disciples adjusted their stances without showing any sign of alarm.

Mu-hui, observing the densely planted feathered needles in the ground, spoke.

“Formation.”

As soon as Mu-hui’s words left his mouth and the disciples began to move, a barrage of hidden weapons rained down from all directions, as if waiting for this moment.

The projectiles targeted only the disciples, leaving Mu-hui untouched.

Countless feathered needles poured down like a torrential rain above the disciples’ heads, while daggers with silver threads attached surged in from below.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Daggers embedded themselves in a circle around them, and the tightened silver threads wove into a net, restricting the disciples’ movements.

The silver threads, infused with internal energy, were sharp enough to cut through anything they touched.

Feathered needles from above, a tightening net of silver threads below. Following that, projectiles and daggers flew in from all directions.

For an ordinary martial artist, this deadly display of hidden weapons would be impossible to react to, leaving them blinking in confusion before meeting their end.

But this was not the case for the disciples.

“Hah!”

Without exchanging a word, Mu-hwa, the fastest and most agile with the sword, leaped high into the air.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Mu-hwa’s sleeves fluttered wildly.

Despite swinging his sword at top speed, there were simply too many feathered needles flying at him.

Moreover, the needles were as thin as hair, making them difficult to deflect.

‘This is tough.’

Mu-hwa’s sword drew countless lines, but it wasn’t enough to block the densely falling thin needles.

He knew the solution.

-You need to extend your sword not just in lines, but in surfaces.

-Straight lines, diagonal lines, curves. Combine them, twist and turn them to enrich your sword path.

Mu-hui demonstrated, his wrist moving fluidly.

His sword alternated between edge and flat, tracing complex lines that were hard to follow with the eye.

-But senior, that wouldn’t be a quick sword. The path lengthens, naturally taking more time to reach the opponent.

-To be a master of the quick sword, you must wield a faster sword in curves and surfaces than in straight lines. Even if it’s not a quick sword, mixing lines and surfaces is essential to mastering the ever-changing sword of the volcano.

-Huh? Is that even possible?

-Why can’t you do something this simple? I’ll show you one more time.

Despite Mu-hui’s teachings, Mu-hwa had yet to fully master this technique.

It was difficult, but Mu-hwa’s nature preferred thrusting straight lines over mixing lines and surfaces.

‘Damn it!’

But now, he had to do it somehow.

Otherwise, his senior brothers, who trusted him and focused elsewhere, would fall victim to the needles.

‘Lines and surfaces, envelop them all with the sword like a fabric.’

Mu-hwa’s eyes, fixed on the incoming needles, were bloodshot with intense focus.

In this extreme concentration, the speed of the needles seemed to slow down.

Yet Mu-hwa didn’t even realize this as he swung his sword.

What came to mind was Mu-hui’s demonstration, deflecting the needles with a gust of his sword.

‘Like senior brother.’

Mu-hwa’s sword, which had been thrusting straight, shifted to reveal its flat side, veering off course.

Then it showed its edge again, drawing a curve and soaring to the upper left.

Like a bird freely soaring through the sky, Mu-hwa’s sword was swift and untraceable.

Mu-hwa simply followed the quick sword technique Mu-hui had taught, but the transformation was richer than any other sword technique he had used.

The sword, imbued with red internal energy, left a fleeting afterimage, as if weaving a translucent red fabric in the air.

Swish!

Mu-hwa overlapped his sword gusts densely, creating a wall, and deflected the few needles that pierced through with the broad side of his sword.

“Haah!”

Having unleashed his sword technique in one breath without pausing, Mu-hwa finally gasped for air.

As Mu-hwa landed back on the ground, having perfectly blocked the airborne needles, Mu-cheol raised his heavy sword high and swept the ground.

Crash!

The heavy sword, deeply embedded in the ground, overturned it, causing the embedded daggers to spring up.

The daggers, once fixed, now floated in the air, creating gaps in the net of silver threads.

Mu-jin seized the opportunity, slicing horizontally with his sword.

Mu-jin’s sword, sharper than when facing a deadly foe, cut through the fluttering silver threads.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

The silver threads, dancing in the air, were severed, and Mu-jin scattered his sword energy to deflect the incoming projectiles.

By perfectly blocking the relentless assault of hidden weapons, the disciples proved they weren’t just riding on Mu-hui’s coattails to earn their reputation as the Volcano’s disciples.

‘Hmm?’

As the disciples emerged unscathed, the assassins, who had been launching the projectiles, prepared for their next attack.

“If an assassin gets caught, they should be ready to die.”

A low voice came from behind.

The assassin controlling the silver threads reached for the dagger at his thigh, but his vision flipped upside down, marking his last memory.

Mu-hui, having decapitated the assassin, turned without hesitation.

His steps, crossing branches with the Hidden Ghost Step, made not even the slightest sound.

The assassins had planned to kill the disciples first, hoping to unsettle Mu-hui.

But Mu-hui seized the moment when the assassins focused on the disciples.

Assassins exploit the gaps in thought, and Mu-hui applied this principle perfectly.

‘Next is the east.’

Since awakening in this body, Mu-hui had honed his sharp senses, enhanced by the internal energy of the Nine Small Heart Method, woven like a net.

In the dim darkness where even moonlight couldn’t penetrate, Mu-hui moved through the forest like a ghost, unbothered by such trivialities.

He could find the assassins with his eyes closed, as if seeing stones on a board.

In the darkness, Mu-hui advanced toward the assassins’ positions, thrusting his sword.

In the forest, only the eerie sound of something falling or spilling quietly echoed.

‘The first group has been taken out.’

The assassins, divided into four groups to surround Mu-hui’s party, were taken aback.

As soon as they realized the northern group had been eliminated and tried to relay the message, the eastern group also went silent.

Only then did the assassins realize they were the ones being hunted. When they launched their projectiles, Mu-hui had vanished.

That was likely when it all began.

‘How could this happen in the brief moment we lost track of him?’

Even as they maintained their stealth, the assassins couldn’t fathom how a mere martial artist was finding and killing them with such precision.

They couldn’t detect Mu-hui’s presence, making them the ones being assassinated.

‘Hmm.’

Sweat formed on the hand of an assassin gripping a dagger in reverse.

Having survived numerous missions, this was the first time he found himself the target of an assassination.

Despite extensive training to suppress emotions, the pressure of slowly sinking into the mire of death quickened his breath.

When a chill ran down his spine, the assassin swung his dagger backward without hesitation.

“You’re the best of the lot.”

In the assassin’s eyes, a clean red line appeared, splitting his dagger-wielding hand and piercing his chest.

Blinking, he realized it wasn’t a line but a sword.

Mu-hui, having dispatched the last assassin, flicked the blood from his blade.

Not even fifteen minutes had passed since the twenty assassins had surrounded Mu-hui’s group.

Their scattered formation made it easier to defeat them one by one.

‘Still, it’s thanks to those guys doing their part.’

If the disciples hadn’t been able to handle the assassins’ projectiles, Mu-hui would have had to intervene.

The assassins would have then executed their plan to pressure Mu-hui’s group.

In that case, he wouldn’t have been able to eliminate the assassins so quickly, and the situation would have become troublesome.

The assassins had come prepared with hooks, chains, and poison smoke, intending to surround them, but it was all for naught if they couldn’t show it.

Mu-hui glanced at his disciples before melting back into the darkness.

* * *

“Hmm, what’s going on?”

“It seems they’ve stopped attacking. Are they waiting for an opening?”

The master of Amhoon Pavilion furrowed his brow. After the initial barrage of hidden weapons, there had been no further movement.

The disciples of the Mount Hua Sect were in the same predicament.

“This is frustrating.”

He couldn’t discern the details from a distance, even with his keen eyesight focused.

As he stroked his chin, the master let out a sigh, gazing into the now silent forest.

Assassination required patience, yet he couldn’t shake this growing impatience.

Just then, one of his subordinates, frowning, spoke up.

“Wait a minute, that guy Mu-hwi… hasn’t he been missing for a while now?”

“Now that you mention it…”

The master couldn’t finish his sentence. The subordinate beside him was suddenly silenced, his head lolling as if his neck had been severed.

The master quickly reached for his waist, but the unfamiliar touch on his head made him realize it was too late.

“Got you.”

Thud!

Mu-hwi had grabbed the master’s head from behind and slammed it into the ground.

“Ugh!”

Dirt filled his mouth, but there was no time to worry about that.

‘Damn it, so locking eyes with him earlier wasn’t just my imagination!’

As the master suspected, their earlier eye contact had been no coincidence.

While dealing with the assassins, Mu-hwi had subtly shifted his position, using his senses to detect the presence of two unfamiliar figures and had turned his gaze toward them.

“How dare you! Let go!”

The master struggled to break free from Mu-hwi’s grip, but no amount of internal energy could overcome the brute strength and pressure pinning him down.

“Trying to kill me with these fools? You should’ve brought the Dark Emperor if you wanted me dead.”

Hearing Mu-hwi’s bold mention of the Dark Emperor, the master’s resistance faltered.

It was simply too absurd.

‘The Dark Emperor? This lunatic.’

The Dark Emperor, a peerless assassin who stood shoulder to shoulder with the greatest masters of the martial world.

To suggest summoning the world’s greatest assassin just to kill a mere pavilion master was laughable.

“Seems like your recent fame has gone to your head.”

Mu-hwi smirked at the back of the master’s head, mocking him.

“Is that so?”

Mu-hwi pressed the master’s face harder into the dirt.

The master tried to close his mouth, but soil kept finding its way in.

“Mmmpf!”

“The one who’s lost his mind is you. Can’t you see the situation you’re in?”

Mu-hwi swiftly struck the master’s pressure points, immobilizing him.

Realizing he couldn’t move, the master’s eyes darkened with despair.

“You should’ve brought the Dark Emperor if you wanted me dead.”

“Finally, Mount Hua.”