Unhwi spun his body.

The assassin whose eyes met his flinched and drew a dagger—

Shrrk—!

But in the next instant, the Heavenshaking Spiritblade swept through him—cleaving not just the dagger but the assassin’s entire body in two.

It happened in an instant.

As Unhwi turned his head, Seo Hwabaek belatedly lunged toward him.

A flash of light.

Before anything else, it was Gui Chamsul (Ghost-Cleaving Art)—the martial technique that had elevated Seo Hwabaek to his position within Yuhonmun. It aimed straight for the right side of Unhwi’s neck.

But—

Cheonseoljise (Momentum of Heavenly Snow).

In an instant, all the whirling snow around Unhwi froze solid, and both of his eyes turned white as snow.

Seo «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» Hwabaek’s dagger pierced through the ice—but its speed faltered, and its trajectory shifted.

Unhwi didn’t miss that moment.

He immediately transformed his False-Origin True Qi into Frozen-Snow Qi, coiling it around his sword. The engraved thunder patterns along the blade flared bright. Its momentum was beyond anything a mere Ogijo-level martial artist could perceive.

A cold sweat trickled down Seo Hwabaek’s back.

He had two choices now.

As a master of the Ipshin Realm, he could pour his full strength into forcing the dagger through and land a hit—

Or drop the dagger and retreat.

Seo Hwabaek chose the latter.

He let go of the dagger and immediately leapt backward.

He gained six paces of distance.

It was a calculated measure. Exactly six paces—ideal for regrouping and launching a follow-up assault.

But his instincts screamed—

It’s not enough.

So he took one more step back.

That choice turned out to be exactly right.

Crackkkk—!

A bolt of lightning scraped past his face.

He was stunned.

What the hell is this bastard?

Even more shocking—

“…He’s left-handed—and that proficient?”

The report had said Unhwi was right-handed. The bandaged right arm wrapped in cloth confirmed an injury.

But for him to show such mastery with his left?

“…It seems I severely underestimated you.”

Frozen crystals tumbled down around them.

Through them, Unhwi’s sharp gaze bore into Seo Hwabaek.

Unhwi had slain martial artists of higher realms even when he was still only in the Three Flowers Gathering Purity stage.

Now, he had reached Ogijo.

Seo Hwabaek made up his mind.

“I was told Yu Hwarin fought like a warrior, not an assassin. Is that true?”

Unhwi gave a knowing smirk.

“Planning to flee?”

Seo Hwabaek glanced to the side.

The assassins Yang Cheol had faced were already dead.

Only he remained.

No witnesses.

“I’m not fleeing. I’m fighting like an assassin should.”

“How admirable, your excuses.”

“You’re just a brat who knows how to play Go—what would you know about assassins? Brace yourself. I’m nothing like Yu Hwarin.”

Seo Hwabaek bolted toward the thick underbrush.

Hiding his presence. Waiting for an opening to strike.

That was the classic assassin’s way.

Unlike Yu Hwarin, who fought head-on to showcase assassin martial arts, Seo Hwabaek’s approach was arguably more true to form.

But Unhwi had no intention of tolerating that kind of risk.

An Ipshin-level assassin, committed to an assassination attempt—this could get annoying.

“Yang Cheol.”

“Yes, Lord Hyeonseollin.”

“Gather anything useful from the corpses. Wait here.”

“…Will you be alright?”

He looked toward the direction Seo Hwabaek had fled.

“A single quarter hour is plenty.”

With that, Unhwi vanished from his spot.

***

The moment Unhwi launched, his form blurred like a snowstorm.

He had unleashed Celestial Glide Shadowstep (Cheonreung Ryuyeongbo) to its absolute limit.

The aura of Seolsan infused his body. Though his right arm was unusable, his movements didn’t falter in the slightest.

Like the very wind of the Snow Mountain itself, Unhwi slipped silently into the underbrush where Seo Hwabaek had disappeared.

This densely wooded place was a dream for assassins—but unfortunately, it was entirely covered in snow.

In these conditions, no assassin could move without preparation.

Every footprint, every lingering trace of qi in the air had to be hidden. But Seo Hwabaek hadn’t had the time.

Unhwi’s eyes scanned the surroundings.

Deep footprints led off and gradually lightened, as if the weight behind them had faded.

He followed them until they vanished entirely.

And there, Unhwi stopped.

Not even a blade of grass stirred. It was as though all the world held its breath.

Tension coiled.

“Seo Hwabaek.”

Unhwi’s voice slipped through the thicket like a whispering wind. It wasn’t even a voice—more like a ghost’s murmur.

“Yuhonmun assassins always operate the same way. First priority for concealment: trees. Second: stones. If those fail, they burrow underground. No matter where they are, once they sense the target has approached—and the target’s gaze momentarily shifts—then…”

Unhwi’s sentence trailed off as he twisted his body.

Thwip thwip thwip—!

Three daggers flew from the boulder across the way, grazing his face.

“…That’s when they strike.”

Unhwi’s eyes flared with cold light, like fire on a stormy night.

He charged the boulder in a blink and brought down his Heavenshaking Spiritblade in a vertical slash.

BOOOM—!!

A short sword leapt up to block—but Unhwi’s strength overpowered it, forcing Seo Hwabaek’s feet to sink deep into the snow.

“…How… did you react so fast?”

Unhwi didn’t bother answering.

He twisted and drove his shoulder into Seo Hwabaek’s solar plexus.

Seo Hwabaek grimaced, skidding backward. He leaned far back to dodge.

Whoosh—!

The lightning-wreathed blade of the Heavenshaking Spiritblade sliced across his face.

He swallowed hard and swept his leg in a spin-kick—

Crack!

It was blocked—by Unhwi’s right wrist. He hadn’t even realized Unhwi was using it again.

Seo Hwabaek grit his teeth. As he retracted his leg, he planted both hands on the ground and flung snow and frozen soil toward Unhwi.

He infused them with internal energy. Even someone of Ogijo level would suffer wounds from that barrage.

And he was right.

The snow and dirt nicked Unhwi’s body and completely obscured his vision.

For a moment, it was as though a wall had risen between them.

Seo Hwabaek seized that chance.

He drew a dagger from his waist and lunged forward—

BOOM—!!

A foot shot through the flying debris and slammed into the side of Seo Hwabaek’s dagger.

His arm flung wide, but Seo Hwabaek’s eyes gleamed.

Eumsa Samsik (Three Hidden Serpent Strikes).

His secret technique. The very martial art that made him who he was.

It mimicked the motion of a snake: three lethal strikes.

First, a stab to the throat. Second, a palm strike to destroy internal organs. Third, an embedded hidden weapon to paralyze the meridians.

It flowed like water—so fast, no one had ever survived it. It never missed.

His dagger shot forward.

And in that briefest moment—Unhwi dropped his sword and reached out his left hand.

His palm met the dagger tip.

BOOM—!!

A burst of energy exploded between them—Seo Hwabaek was pushed back two steps, Unhwi three.

Seo Hwabaek grinned.

Even if Eumsa Samsik was blocked, that dagger was infused with natural qi. There was no way Unhwi’s left arm—

“…Huh?”

A stupid sound escaped his mouth.

Unhwi’s left hand was completely intact.

He wore a white glove—but still. This was impossible.

An Ipshin-level martial artist had struck with all his might—and there wasn’t even damage?

And something else.

That moment just now.

Hadn’t it seemed like Unhwi knew the first strike was coming? That he’d intentionally nullified it?

Seo Hwabaek couldn’t dwell on it.

Unhwi suddenly dashed forward and threw a dagger from his belt.

Seo Hwabaek twisted his head, dodging it.

And in that instant, he realized.

Unhwi had thrown it wide—on purpose.

He turned his head—just in time to raise his wrist.

Unhwi had already closed the distance like a snowstorm, and his fist collided with Seo Hwabaek’s forearm.

BOOM—!!

Seo Hwabaek staggered sideways, eyes sharp. His internal energy surged in both hands. The blue natural qi around his fingertips expanded into a storm, sweeping snow and soil toward Unhwi.

Unhwi drew a circle with his left hand. White energy met Seo Hwabaek’s and canceled it out. Seo Hwabaek’s eyes flew open.

The next moment—Unhwi advanced even faster.

Like a snowstorm’s drift, smooth and unrelenting.

Seo Hwabaek dropped his stance and drew two daggers from his waist.

Azure qi coated the blades.

He crossed them and charged. His entire body moved with the deadly grace of a snake—and so did his daggers.

His attacks came from all directions in unpredictable trajectories.

Unhwi responded with only his left hand. His palm fanned out, deflecting each dagger.

Thwack! Clang! Slash!

Sparks flew as metal met flesh. Each time a dagger struck Unhwi’s glove, ice crystals scattered.

“…Impressive. But.”

Seo Hwabaek meant it.

But that was the limit.

With lightning speed, one dagger—

Squelch—!

—stabbed into Unhwi’s right shoulder.

“This is the end. If you had brought that White Snow Phantom Corps officer with you, maybe things would’ve turned out differen—”

He couldn’t finish.

Unhwi’s foot crashed into Seo Hwabaek’s leg.

WHAM—!

Seo Hwabaek staggered, losing balance.

He tried to recover, to strike back—but Unhwi was faster.

A snowstorm-like energy flared from Unhwi’s left palm. It shot toward Seo Hwabaek’s chest. He twisted to dodge—but not entirely.

His right shoulder—

Crackkkkk—!

“Ghhhk—!”

It froze over in an instant.

From shoulder to wrist—his entire right arm was encased in ice.

It was absurd.

Seo Hwabaek leapt back, fury erupting.

Blue qi flared from his body.

He blurred—his speed doubling as he rushed forward with the grace of a swimming serpent, now deadly fast.

A storm of dagger thrusts rained down. Each dagger tip gleamed with natural qi, aiming for Unhwi’s meridians.

Unhwi didn’t dodge anymore.

His left hand flared like a fan, deflecting some. The rest scraped past his body—ripping his clothes, drawing blood.

A smile curled at Seo Hwabaek’s lips.

He drew his sharpest dagger. It pulsed with blue light as it flew—straight for Unhwi’s heart.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep