If Bu Eunseol refused a direct order from the higher-ups?
Shang Liang and Ma Yun could be demoted on the spot. In the worst case, they might even be thrown back into the underground prison.
“P-please…” Pale-faced, Shang Liang and Ma Yun nearly dropped to their knees, clutching Bu Eunseol’s sleeve.
“This puts us in a tough spot,” Shang Liang pleaded.
“Exactly,” Ma Yun added. “Worst case, the Yueyang branch could be shut down.”
Bu Eunseol muttered impassively, “Then go to another branch.”
Nine Deaths Squad operatives had no fixed allegiance. They could move to another branch and take missions at will, or quit entirely after a year’s service. At Bu Eunseol’s words, Shang Liang’s eyes nearly rolled back in panic.
‘No, no way!’ All their efforts would be for nothing. Biting his lip, Shang Liang clasped his hands.
“Please, take this job. I’m begging you.” He bowed so low it seemed he might prostrate himself.
“If this goes wrong, our necks are on the line.”
“That’s quite a problem,” Bu Eunseol replied dryly.
Shang Liang’s sagging cheeks trembled with frustration. If he could, he’d have pulled out his sword and stabbed it into Bu Eunseol’s vital points.
But this was Number Eighteen, the Yueyang branch’s cornerstone and the greatest operative in its history!
“Y-yes, exactly,” Shang Liang said, forcing a smile through gritted teeth. “If you take this job, we’ll provide you with all the branch’s resources and incoming intelligence.”
Bu Eunseol’s drooping eyes flicked upward. Equipment was irrelevant, but access to all the branch’s intelligence was an enticing offer—equivalent to gaining a personal information network.
“The duration?” he asked.
“Duration? We’re in this together, aren’t we?” Shang Liang said, eyes gleaming as he rubbed his hands.
It was the friendliest he’d been since entering the martial world.
“Fine,” Bu Eunseol nodded, slowly turning. “But this is the last time. I won’t take jobs like this again.”
Thud.
As the secret room’s door closed behind him, Ma Yun stared at Shang Liang in disbelief.
“Are you insane, Brother? Giving him all our intelligence?”
“What else could I do? He doesn’t care about money, and the only thing he’s interested in is our intel.”
“Even so, that makes our branch his personal intelligence network!”
“It’s fine. If this job goes well, we might finally return to Majeon.”
“Really? Did you hear something?” Ma Yun asked, brightening.
Shang Liang grinned slyly. “Nothing yet. But if this job succeeds, good news will follow.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he pulls this off, it’ll impress the one who can get us out of here.”
“Wait. The target’s that important?” Ma Yun asked, voice trembling.
Shang Liang narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”
***
The Dan Family Estate.
A grand manor housing the wealthy Dan clan and their kin. Yet now, the sprawling estate was eerily empty, save for a few maids standing respectfully.
“Hmm.” Bu Eunseol let out a low hum, gazing at the garden blooming with exotic flowers.
According to the letter, the target was visiting Yueyang for leisure. To buy an entire estate for a short stay?
‘Must be filthy rich.’
Clop, clop.
The sound of hooves announced a luxurious eight-horse carriage pulling up to the estate’s gate.
Click.
The coachman opened the door, and a imposing middle-aged man stepped out, followed by a young woman in yellow silk robes, her face veiled by translucent gauze.
The man exuded a sharp, blade-like aura, while the woman possessed a mystical beauty, like a delicate flower.
“Who are you?” the man demanded.
“I’m from the Yueyang branch,” Bu Eunseol replied flatly.
“I asked who you are.”
“A Nine Deaths Squad operative, here for the escort mission.”
His voice was as flat as a stone’s, devoid of inflection. The man’s eyebrows twitched at the curt response, but the veiled woman stepped forward.
“You must be the warrior assigned to protect me,” she said, her tone and demeanor radiating elegance far surpassing her visible beauty.
“What should I call you?”
“Call me Number Eighteen.”
“Number… Eighteen?” she repeated, puzzled.
“Nine Deaths Squad have no names,” he explained.
The middle-aged man snorted irritably. “No need for codenames here.”
Before Bu Eunseol could respond, the woman smiled. “Oh, I see… a false face.”
Bu Eunseol’s eyes glinted.
No one had ever seen through his Face and Bone Shifting Art, yet this young woman had?
“No need to be surprised,” she said. “I’m just a bit more observant than most.”
When speaking, the muscles around the mouth and eyes move in tandem. But the Face-Changing Technique caused slight unnaturalness in facial movements. Bu Eunseol knew this flaw, but no one had ever noticed—until this veiled woman did, instantly.
“Even if we saw your real face, no one would recognize you. You can show it freely.”
“I refuse,” he said.
“Why?”
“My work requires hiding my true face. No exceptions.”
His blunt refusal sparked anger in the man’s eyes. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t argue with her orders. Do as she says.”
“I agreed to an escort mission, not to be a lackey.”
“What did you say?” A shimmering aura, like heat haze, emanated from the man, weighing down the estate’s air like iron.
“Uncle,” the veiled woman interjected, shaking her head. “He’s just doing his job diligently. Please be understanding.”
“But this punk—”
“Please.” At her earnest plea, the man reluctantly reined in his aura.
“Names don’t matter,” the woman said, smiling at Bu Eunseol. “But ‘Mr. Ten’ or ‘Mr. Eight’ sounds odd, so I’ll call you Mr. Tiger.”
“Do as you like,” Bu Eunseol replied, then asked dryly, “What should I call you?”
The man scoffed. “Why do you need to know?”
“Fine. If danger arises or I need to call her quickly, I’ll just shout ‘Hey.’” The man’s face flushed with anger at Bu Eunseol’s sharp retort, while the woman’s eyes curved into crescents, stifling a laugh.
“I’m… So-ok,” she said, her cheeks reddening as she lowered her gaze.
“You can call me whatever feels comfortable, Mr. Tiger…”
“Then I’ll call you Lady So,” Bu Eunseol said with a nod, turning his gaze to the man.
Understanding the look, the man snorted. “This old man is Woomun Hwang.”
Bu Eunseol’s expression showed slight surprise. Not only did the middle-aged man refer to himself as an old man, but Bu Eunseol had never heard the name before.
‘A master from a past generation.’ Master Wang’s booklet listed all renowned masters from the past thirty years. If Woomun Hwang’s name wasn’t there, he was likely a legend from an earlier era.
“You seem skilled enough not to need my protection,” Bu Eunseol remarked.
The veiled woman smiled faintly. “My uncle is of high standing but retired from the martial world long ago. The sect worries about that.”
“No need to worry,” Woomun Hwang grumbled. “They’re just overly cautious. With me around, there’s nothing to fear.”
Bu Eunseol understood her meaning instantly.
Having been away from the martial world for so long, Woomun Hwang’s danger-sensing instincts had dulled, making him less suited for escort duties in unfamiliar territory.
“I understand my role,” Bu Eunseol said.
Hunan was a complex region with clashing factions, and Bu Eunseol’s intimate knowledge of its dynamics made him ideal to assist Woomun Hwang.
“You won’t have much to do,” Woomun Hwang said, smirking. “I’ll handle everything. Just don’t interfere with Ok’s sightseeing.”
He pointed at Bu Eunseol’s worn clothes. “Go back for today. Return tomorrow morning and act as a young noble accompanying Ok’s tour.”
Woomun Hwang clearly saw Bu Eunseol as a decorative backdrop.
Unfazed, Bu Eunseol nodded calmly. “Understood.”
***
The next day, Bu Eunseol returned to the Dan Estate in silk robes tailored at Nangyang Pavilion. The eight-horse carriage awaited, with So-ok and Woomun Hwang inside.
“You’re right on time,” So-ok said.
She wore white robes embroidered with gold, her elegance reminiscent of a crane in the clouds, despite her veiled face.
Where are we going? Most would have asked, but Bu Eunseol silently boarded the carriage. His job was to follow Woomun Hwang and protect So-ok, no matter the destination.
Their first stop was a boat tour.
“Li Bai, the Poet Sage, loved wine and the moon his whole life,” So-ok said excitedly on the boat. “His death came in Dongting Lake, drunk and trying to catch the moon’s reflection in the water…”
Next was Yueyang Tower.
“Dongting’s waters are the finest in the world, and Yueyang’s tower is the grandest,” she explained, reciting the famous phrase.
At every stop, So-ok eagerly shared the history and origins of each landmark with fellow travelers.
‘Remarkable. She talks this much without losing her voice,’ Bu Eunseol thought, listening quietly.
Her clear, melodious voice made it pleasant enough, but if it hadn’t, he’d have plugged his ears and kept his distance.
Her tour continued.
They visited Sangbi Temple on Mount Jun, its bamboo groves and tea fields, then sailed to Jinseong Tower at the eastern edge of Yueyang Prefecture.
“Bring out all your best dishes,” So-ok ordered at a window table with a scenic view, requesting enough food for ten grown men.
Soon, the table was laden with dishes, barely leaving room for wine cups.
“Enjoy!” the waiter said, setting down the last plate.
So-ok removed her veil and began eating carefully. Bu Eunseol had never placed much value on food. To him, eating was merely a means to sustain strength and life—nothing more, nothing less.
But high-born people like So-ok put great effort into their meals.
‘Curious,’ Bu Eunseol thought, his expression subtly shifting as he watched So-ok and Woomun Hwang dine across the table.
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