Chapter 49. Specter (2)
A second Specter abandoned its course toward Ghost Shadow Thief and instead dashed toward us.
Was it because they had lost a comrade in an instant to an unexpected opponent? The eyes visible beneath the mask trembled uncontrollably.
I smirked at the one who so plainly revealed their emotional turmoil.
"Next."
But rather than engaging, the Specter abruptly changed direction again, executing a swift footwork technique and rushing back toward Ghost Shadow Thief at full speed.
It wasn't my first time facing assassins, but this was the first time I'd seen one turn their back and flee like this.
"Huh."
A hollow chuckle escaped me before I swallowed it down.
I had certainly regained a portion of my past strength, reaching the threshold of the Peak Realm. But this was a level achieved solely through internal energy.
I could now parry sword energy with my own, no longer needing to evade it, and that alone gave me the confidence to defeat most opponents. However…
My body had yet to reach the level befitting a Peak Martial Artist.
No matter how much internal energy I infused into myself, my physical abilities couldn't exceed a certain limit without proper external martial arts training.
In other words, my speed in executing movement techniques was inevitably slower.
The Specter must have noticed this during our earlier battle, which was likely why they abandoned me and turned their attention back to Ghost Shadow Thief.
It was a little frustrating, but given that their objective was never me in the first place but rather Ghost Shadow Thief, it made sense.
A martial artist who had reached a certain level would carry their pride regardless of faction, but an assassin had no such thing.
The assassin's footwork carried them swiftly away. Chasing after them was impossible, so I simply called out in a loud voice.
"Sir! One of them got away!"
Ghost Shadow Thief, mid-battle, flicked a glance in my direction. He had no leisure to respond, but his movements subtly changed.
Where he had previously thrown counterpunches when opportunities arose, he now focused entirely on dodging.
Only now did I notice—his body had weakened, his movements had slowed, and missing a leg made continuous motion difficult. Yet…
Even considering all that, his footwork was astounding.
He moved across the ground as if gliding, making his trajectory unpredictable and forcing his opponent to react half a beat too late.
At times, he even kicked off the cliff the Specters had climbed earlier, rebounding without ever losing his stance.
The rumors that, in his prime, he had plundered places guarded by Flowering Stage martial artists weren't lies after all.
If this was his level, he could certainly hold out for a while.
Feeling a little more at ease, I kicked off the ground toward him.
On the way, I glanced at Tang Sowol and the vice-captain. Hmm. No need to worry about that side.
Most of the elite assassins were already dead or dying from Tang Sowol's poison. The lone surviving Specter capable of fighting was trapped in a swamp of venom, unable to escape thanks to the Blood Venom Unit's vice-captain.
At this rate, they'd be finished soon. That meant I only needed to focus on my side.
I turned my gaze forward again. The distance had closed considerably.
Two black-coated daggers came flying toward me—perhaps an attempt to keep me at bay.
But no matter how adept an assassin might be, they were still human. They couldn't completely conceal their killing intent.
Only one person had ever managed that—the Heavenly Demon I saw in my final moments.
Predicting their trajectories, one aimed at my forehead and the other at my foot, I moved accordingly.
Chaaang!
I deflected the dagger aimed at my forehead with my sword, while the one targeting my foot I avoided by subtly shifting my step—switching the order of my left and right footfalls.
The dagger embedded itself in the ground just ahead of me. Without breaking stride, I kicked it up and sent it spinning back toward the nearest Specter.
The dagger whirled through the air.
I hadn't learned hidden weapon techniques, and kicking instead of throwing meant it lacked speed.
Still, a blade was a blade. Unless they had defensive energy enveloping them, they had to react.
"Tch."
One of the Specters clicked their tongue and twisted their body.
They didn't fully evade it, letting it graze their side instead.
That brief hesitation was enough.
"White Specter! Be careful! As I said, that bastard—!"
One of them, having seen me cut down their comrade in an instant, shouted in alarm.
But it was already too late.
I exploded my internal energy through the Yongcheon Acupoint at the center of my sole.
Paaang!
My foot instantly lost sensation. A dull pain followed, but in return, I gained a sudden burst of acceleration.
A single leap—the only one my current body could execute.
As the distance closed rapidly, the one called White Specter widened their eyes and turned toward me instead of Ghost Shadow Thief.
Since they had been fighting, their fist was already enveloped in Fist Qi as it shot toward me.
No—upon closer inspection, their fingers were slightly loose. If necessary, they were prepared to parry my sword with the back of their hand or even seize my blade.
Not a bad decision.
A trained martial artist's hands were tough enough to resist ordinary blades, and a warrior's Fist Qi was always stronger than weapon-based attacks.
And besides, outwardly, I still looked like a teenager. They probably assumed I would lose in a contest of raw power.
Any experienced martial artist would make the same calculation.
But I was not bound by such common sense.
Who could possibly imagine that their opponent had returned from death itself?
I pulled my sword arm back, as if drawing a bowstring.
Seeing the obvious thrusting posture, White Specter smirked.
A thrusting technique was always fast and powerful, but if it failed, it left an enormous opening.
They must have thought I was an overconfident rookie, unaware of the internal energy disparity.
Perfect.
I took a deep breath, summoning my Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art's killing aura to my sword.
A fierce and unpredictable force, yet to me, as familiar as my own limbs.
Though the amount wasn't fully satisfactory, it was enough for a little trickery.
A crimson vortex began swirling along my sword.
White Specter's eyes filled with shock.
At the same time, my foot touched the ground.
Boom!
A Powerful Stomp and a Deadly Thrust
I stomped down hard, Jin'gak technique stabilizing my stance. My body, which had been sprinting forward, came to an abrupt halt, and the accumulated force surged upward from my ankle.
It passed through my calf, knee, thigh, side, and back, climbing higher with each small rotational shift in my muscles and joints. This careful transmission not only preserved the force but amplified it further.
This was Four-Limbed Spiral Power—also known as the Mystique of Flexibility.
It was said that the Taoist masters of Wudang could control external flows to the point of reversing waterfalls.
I wasn't nearly as skilled or enlightened, but I understood the fundamentals of channeling power upward through my body.
The moment that raw, full-force energy reached my shoulder, I unleashed it through my arm in an explosive thrust.
KWAANG!
A near-explosive rupture echoed as the crimson vortex of sword energy tore through the air.
The White Specter clenched their fist, their jaw tightening as they braced for impact. Their Fist Qi thickened, coating their knuckles like hardened steel.
They had abandoned the thought of deflecting or catching my blade—this time, they were meeting my attack head-on.
As expected of an elite assassin, they hadn't trained in ordinary martial arts. Mid-motion, their elbow joint extended unnaturally, twisting their fist's trajectory into an unpredictable arc.
But such deviations were meaningless now.
The moment our attacks neared—just before impact—the swirling vortex of my sword's energy snagged their fist's trajectory, twisting it once more.
Their aim faltered.
A brief but decisive clash between Fist Qi and Sword Qi ensued.
And then—
Puuuk!
My blade pierced through their fist, impaling their entire arm before skewering their throat.
Their mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, but no words came—only the faint hiss of escaping breath.
Then, they collapsed.
A Moment to Breathe
"Phew."
I exhaled the breath I had been holding, rolling my stiff shoulder.
It had been a while since I had last wielded Sword Qi properly. With my limited Inner Energy, I had mostly fought with pure technique—but now, cutting down an opponent with such raw power felt strangely satisfying.
I supposed, after all, I truly did love the sword.
Of course, that strike had come at a cost.
My remaining Inner Energy was now halved. The excessive output had caused minor internal injuries in my meridians, and despite utilizing Four-Limbed Spiral Power, I had failed to channel all the energy perfectly. My entire body ached as if I had been struck by a hammer.
Still, it had been worth it.
I had taken down another Specter in a single strike.
Now, our numbers were even—two against two.
With the numerical disadvantage gone, raw skill would determine the victor.
And when it came to skill, I prided myself on standing above the rest.
Unless I was facing a Flowering Stage master, no ordinary assassin—no matter how infamous—could reach me.
Perhaps it was because I had freely wielded Sword Qi at my age and slain a peak-level martial artist in a single stroke—but Ghost Shadow Thief looked at me with a mixture of awe and disbelief as he spoke.
"I never expected to witness two heaven-sent geniuses in my twilight years."
"One of them must be her," I said, glancing at Tang Sowol. "Who's the other?"
"I already told you. The current Lord of the Demonic Cult."
"…I wouldn't say I'm anywhere near that level."
I responded with a wry smile, shaking my head.
The Wall I Could Never Surpass
My strength didn't come from talent.
It came from returning to the past—from a unique experience that no one else possessed.
I would reach the level I had in my previous life quickly enough.
But beyond that lay the wall of the Flowering Stage, an insurmountable boundary.
In my previous life, I had struggled against that wall, repeatedly facing death's edge, only to ultimately meet my end without ever breaking through.
But the Heavenly Demon had been different.
He had already surpassed that wall, fending off the combined assault of multiple Flowering Stage masters—and cutting them down instead.
Ghost Shadow Thief had risked his life to steal the sacred elixir meant for the Heavenly Demon.
But honestly?
I doubted it would weaken him in the slightest.
Because in my final moments from my past life, I still vividly remembered what I had seen—
How Tang Sowol, who had ascended to the Flowering Stage as the Poison Dance Empress, was struck down within a few exchanges.
How I, blinded by rage, had charged forward—only to be crushed with a single flick of his hand.
A vast, abyssal darkness that swallowed the world.
An overwhelming pressure befitting the arrogant title of Heavenly Demon.
No matter how powerful the elixir was, someone who wielded that kind of power would hardly be affected by its absence.
In the end, the elixir that Ghost Shadow Thief had stolen never reached the Heavenly Demon.
Instead, it ended up in the hands of some lucky street thugs.
This time, we had left too many traces—hence the assassins had tracked us down. But in my previous life, Ghost Shadow Thief had simply hidden until his final breath, never being discovered.
Being compared to a true monster like that left a bitter taste in my mouth.
But no matter how impossible the task seemed, I couldn't just sit back and do nothing.
I had my role to play.
First—
I had to take down the remaining Specters.
A Desperate Gamble
"…Hmm?"
The moment they confirmed their comrade's death, the two remaining Specters immediately retreated.
They exchanged glances—then bit down hard on something hidden in their mouths.
As if they were crushing a pill.
And then—
Their auras erupted.
Their skin turned an ashen black, and crimson light flared in their eyes.
Their previously restrained killing intent now spread uncontrollably, lashing out in all directions.
It was an overwhelming transformation. At first glance, they looked like men who had succumbed to madness-induced internal deviation.
But I knew better.
This wasn't some reckless loss of control.
"…Demonic Explosion Pills? Why the hell do assassins have those?!..."
Demonic Explosion Pills were a forbidden secret of the Demonic Cult.
Even if Sal Valley's assassins were currently working under their orders, obtaining these pills shouldn't have been so easy.