Chapter 18
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Chapter 18: The Black Path, The Martial Artist
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The days in Luoyang were busy, and then busy again.
Since ancient times, Luoyang had been an indispensable center of politics, economy, and culture on the continent.
The Luoyang of the present was the hub of a massive logistics network encompassing the entire northern inland region of the continent.
The Grand Canal of the Yellow River was one of the primary reasons Luoyang had become a megacity with a population of several million, and the volume of goods flowing in and out of this place was beyond imagination.
It was common enough to see merchants from the Western Regions who had taken an interest in the Central Plains.
Even in a place teeming with all sorts of peculiar items and diverse merchants, there were those who drew the gazes of everyone around them—none other than the party of Yeon So-hyeon.
"Oh, what a truly beautiful young lady!"
As a merchant from the Western Regions exclaimed in broken Central Plains tongue while looking at Jeong-ah, a local merchant beside him hurriedly tugged at his sleeve.
"You fool! Where are you pointing your finger?"
"What is the matter?"
As the Western merchant looked bewildered, the local merchant gestured subtly with his chin toward behind Jeong-ah.
"Do you not see the guard there? That is a person from the Luoyang Sword Clan."
As soon as the words "Luoyang Sword Clan" were heard, the Western merchant immediately hid his finger.
"…That Luoyang Sword Clan?"
"Yes, that very Luoyang Sword Clan."
The Western merchant could not help but react that way.
From the moment one first set foot in the northern inland region, the warnings one heard countless times were precisely about the Luoyang Sword Clan.
Although she was only being followed by someone dressed as a mere guard, for that very reason, Jeong-ah did not hear a single common flirtatious remark.
It was for the same reason that the path naturally opened in the direction the group was traveling.
"Hmm. I have business elsewhere, so I will join you later."
At Yeon So-hyeon’s words, the gatekeeper blocked his path.
"What are you saying? Surely you do not intend to leave me, your escort, behind?"
Yeon So-hyeon looked at him with an expression that asked what he was talking about.
"Of course I am leaving you behind. You just look after Jeong-ah well."
The gatekeeper placed a hand on his forehead and sighed.
"No, what kind of nonsensical words are… Huh? Huh?!"
In the brief moment he had closed his eyes to sigh, Yeon So-hyeon had long since vanished.
"The Young Master has gone that way!"
The gatekeeper leaped toward the direction Jeong-ah was pointing.
"Oh! A martial artist!"
"It is a Body-Lightening Technique!"
Exclamations erupted from the surroundings, but he paid them no mind and climbed onto the roof of a four-story building.
He hurriedly pushed his visionary power to scan the surroundings, but he could not see even a shadow of the Young Master, let alone the man himself.
"What is this…?"
It was enough to make a ghost wail.
He had been circulating his internal force constantly for the sake of his escort duties, yet this man called the Young Master had vanished from right before his eyes without the slightest trace.
Doubts about the identity of the Young Master, known as The Swordless One, surged within him, but now was not the time.
'Should I report this first?'
But where could he report it?
Even if he did report it, the problem was obvious.
Given the attitude the Sword Clan held toward the Young Master, it was clear that in the end, he would be the one to bear all the responsibility.
"Damn it…!"
After spitting out a curse, he returned to Jeong-ah’s side in a single breath.
"Attendant maid. I apologize, but you will have to see to your business alone. I must find the Young Master as soon as possible…"
Before he could finish his sentence, Jeong-ah nodded.
"I can protect myself, so please do not worry and go after the Young Master."
The gatekeeper clicked his tongue at her composed attitude.
"Are you not even worried?"
Jeong-ah smiled faintly and shook her head.
"For some reason, it is hard to even imagine that anything could happen to him."
"…That may be so, but."
In truth, the gatekeeper agreed with her to some extent.
If he had truly judged the Young Master to be in danger, he would not be here having a leisurely conversation with her.
From the moment he had judged that he had completely lost the Young Master, he would have fired his dedicated signal flare from his pocket, regardless of the consequences.
"Still, I will continue to look for the Young Master."
"I shall see you later."
Before Jeong-ah’s farewell was finished, his figure had vanished, and she shrugged her shoulders and continued on her way.
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In a secluded street in Luoyang, some distance away from there.
That back alley, where the surrounding buildings cast deep shadows, was a place ordinary citizens dared not approach.
The old tattooist who had set up shop in that back alley was a retiree from the Black Path, known for being cantankerous and having a foul temper.
But today, he was being exceptionally cautious.
Leaning comfortably in a chair was a man boasting a truly massive physique.
With his bone structure being extraordinary and his frame thick with flesh, he looked less like a man and more like a bull sitting there.
Furthermore, the finishing touch to his menacing appearance was the large and small skull tattoos that covered his massive body.
The tattoo the artist was currently engraving was also a new skull, and the number of pitch-black skull tattoos already covering him looked to be well over a hundred.
But what was even more surprising was that the man was enjoying a nap while receiving the tattoo.
A nap while having raw flesh repeatedly pierced by needles.
"Ahem."
The old tattooist gave a small cough, put down his needle, and held up a metal mirror to match the man’s gaze.
"Are you satisfied?"
The man, who had been warming his face with a hot towel, lifted the towel slightly and looked into the metal mirror.
The eyes glowing menacingly beneath the towel were like burning coal, and the hands holding the towel were full of scars and calluses.
"Good. Next."
He covered his face with the towel again and leaned deeply back into the chair.
"Yes, I will continue."
The tattooist, who had let out a sigh of relief inwardly, began preparations to engrave the next skull.
Meanwhile, the man began to enjoy his nap again, savoring the comfortable chair, the warm towel, and the cozy heat of the brazier.
The tattooist clicked his tongue inwardly.
Indeed, these people called martial artists must surely exist on a different plane from ordinary humans.
And just as the tattooist picked up his needle again,
"…!"
Someone from behind quietly covered his mouth.
The tattooist reflexively tried to resist, but upon seeing the blade glowing with a cold, blue light in front of his throat, he raised both hands to signal he had no intention of resisting.
Then, another man appeared and held a finger to his lips.
The man was not large, but lean, and the muscles in his exposed areas were disturbingly defined, his gaze as sharp as a blade.
'Assassins…!'
Seeing their actions and appearance, the tattooist, who had once been of the Black Path, quickly grasped the situation and decided to cooperate quietly with the assassins.
The tattooist nodded slowly and retreated as led by the assassin who had covered his mouth.
As he retreated, two more assassins entered through the entrance.
With swords held in their mouths, they did not even glance at the tattooist and moved through the cramped tattoo shop without a sound.
"…."
In an instant, the number of people in the cramped shop had more than doubled, yet they made no sound of breathing or any other presence.
The target was clear.
The two assassins positioned themselves to strike the bull-like man precisely, their raised blades glowing with a cold, blue light.
"…!"
There was not even a battle cry.
The two blades flashed toward the vital points at the exact same moment.
*Crack!*
The tattooist, watching the scene, could not believe his eyes.
The man who had clearly been asleep had caught the blades falling from both sides with his own bare hands.
"Gasp…!"
Before the tattooist could even draw a breath at the sight, the two assassins who had attacked the man were slammed into opposite walls.
The assassin on the left had his ribcage crushed, and the assassin on the right had his jaw shattered.
It was an instant death.
And the man, who had risen from his seat at some point, was so massive his head nearly touched the ceiling.
In the hands he held out to both sides, he was still gripping the blades.
Blood flowed from his clenched fists, ran down his forearms, and dripped onto the floor.
"Hehehehe."
A thick, bass laugh befitting his size filled the room.
"Even if you hide your presence and hide your killing intent, you cannot hide the sharpness of the blade."
The man looked down at the remaining assassins with eyes overflowing with killing intent.
"…Kill him!"
The two remaining assassins lunged from the front.
"Hmph."
With a short, mocking laugh, the man spun the blades he held in his hands and gripped them properly.
A movement that seemed merely for show—by the time that movement ended, the assassins' blades were already flying toward the man’s nose.
However,
The blades held in the man’s two hands flashed.
The blade that pierced one assassin’s stomach came out through his mouth, and the blade that dug into the side assassin’s shoulder came out through his opposite flank.
The blades had clearly been right in front of his nose, yet the man, who had moved later, was unscathed, while the assassins were spilled onto the floor in pieces.
He moved later, but he was faster.
He moved only his arms, but he was stronger.
"This is the difference between a martial artist and vermin like you. Do you understand?"
The man tossed the swords aside roughly and pulled over the chair that had fallen backward to sit down.
Then, covered in blood and viscera, he spoke to the old tattooist who had frozen in place.
"Hey, I need four more skull tattoos."
"Yes! Yes!"
The tattooist jumped up and began preparing for the procedure again with trembling hands.
"Oh my. You’ve done another fine job, little brother."
The one who poked his head into the shop was a man almost identical in size and appearance to the man lying in the chair.
The only difference was the location of his scars and tattoos.
"Yo, you’ve arrived, brother. I had some fun on my own while you were gone."
"Well done. That aside, though…."
He scratched his messy beard.
"In the end, we couldn't find that 'mask artisan.' Nor the ones who went to catch him."
The man in the chair snorted.
"That’s why I said you can’t trust those outsourced bastards."
The man outside smacked his lips.
"Still, didn't our boys say they wiped out that mask artisan’s family?"
The man in the chair shrugged.
"I heard they were only supposed to wipe them out, but they accidentally killed them all."
"Ha. Hot-blooded fools."
"Our boys in the Black Bone Faction do tend to have a surplus of hot blood. We’re not much different ourselves. Heh heh."
The man standing outside shook his head and spoke up.
"But there is something that bothers me. I heard something strange from the boys who handle that street earlier."
"What is it?"
The man furrowed his brow, as if he were puzzled himself.
"They say the mask artisan’s shop is still open for business, perfectly fine?"
The man who had been lounging in the chair bolted upright at those words.
"What? Isn't that the mask artisan bastard?"
"Well, that’s just it. The boys said it wasn't him."
"Then who?"
"That, perhaps..."
The man turned over the story he had heard in his mind.
"They said it was some pale-faced scholar-looking fellow?"
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