Chapter 67
The killing intent that engulfed the entire room made Jin Sohee unconsciously grip her hidden weapon. She flinched when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.
‘When did he…?’
At some point, Cheon Mujin had moved beside her, pressing gently on her shoulder.
“Hm?”
The figure who had been radiating murderous intent—as if he would kill at any moment—tilted his head.
“Why did you retract your killing intent?”
“Putting pointless strength into my gut only makes my face red.”
“The one who erupted with killing intent the moment he sensed my presence says that?”
“Well, that was only because I didn’t know who it was.”
Even inside the Heavenly Demon Castle, assassination threats weren’t impossible.
In his previous life, he had been so weak that no one would have bothered assassinating him. But in this life, unfortunately, Cheon Mujin had become a formidable rival to Cheon Muyang.
Cheon Muyang himself would never stoop to assassination, but his supporters were different.
The advantage of being the eldest son was far greater than most realized.
Even if only half the rumors about Cheon Mujin’s ability were true, there would still be plenty willing to side with him.
For those backing Cheon Muyang, he was a destabilizing threat to their very lives. Sending assassins under the pretense of serving their lord wouldn’t be strange at all.
“If assassins break in, of course you fight them.”
“Indeed.”
“But the reason I withdrew my killing intent is because I realized my opponent wasn’t just an ordinary assassin.”
Cheon Mujin met the man’s gaze head-on, eyes calm and direct.
“Because the Killing Star is no mere assassin.”
“You recognized me the instant you saw me?”
At his words, the Killing Star tapped his own face.
The hard sensation of his mask was clear.
“All my children wear the same mask, you know.”
The Killing Star was the king of assassins within the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
Known as the “White Mask Corps,” they were distinguished by the white masks they always wore.
“Precisely because you wear that mask, I recognized you.”
“Why?”
“What assassin would dare enter the eldest son of the Cheon Clan’s chambers wearing a mask, if not the Killing Star himself?”
“Hm.”
As if dissatisfied with that answer, the Killing Star stroked his chin.
“That doesn’t suffice. It doesn’t explain why you dispelled your killing intent.”
He was not satisfied.
Cheon Mujin’s reaction had been impressive enough to make him admire it—so much so that he thought it would be a shame to kill him.
Was someone with such aura really cowed simply by recognizing who he was?
Strange.
If the reason couldn’t be explained, he would have to confirm it himself.
“Young one, you don’t truly know me, do you?”
The Killing Star’s tone suddenly softened, carrying the warmth of a kindly grandfather speaking to his grandson.
The oppressive mood lightened, and Jin Sohee loosened her grip on her hidden weapon without realizing it.
Clang!
With a crisp metallic sound, Cheon Mujin flicked his wrist and smiled.
“So you have a mischievous side. I see that now.”
“…Hmph.”
The Killing Star narrowed his eyes, his warning strike blocked.
He hadn’t meant to kill—only to give a light warning. Yet it had been deflected.
And Cheon Mujin hadn’t even been looking directly at him at the time.
‘He predicted my strike? How?’
If he wasn’t watching, then he must have anticipated the attack and blocked it accordingly.
But such a thing was impossible.
And yet, the impossible was the only explanation that remained.
How should one accept an impossible truth?
While the Killing Star’s gaze turned cold, Cheon Mujin calmly pulled out a chair and sat beside Jin Sohee.
“Please, sit. Ah, do you prefer wine?”
“Tea.”
“Then tea it is.”
Pouring from the pot still warm on the tray, Cheon Mujin offered a cup to the Killing Star.
Unruffled, the masked man accepted it and sat opposite him.
“Brazen. Or perhaps I should say, strong-willed.”
“Well, I’m not faint of heart.”
Cheon Mujin chuckled and lightly grasped Jin Sohee’s arm—a silent signal not to fight. Reluctantly, she withdrew her weapon.
By then, the Killing Star had already drained half his tea, his gaze fixed once more on Cheon Mujin.
“I don’t wish to talk long with you. Answer one question properly, and I’ll leave.”
“Oh, but I’d gladly converse with a senior like you all day.”
“…Strange boy.”
With a dry chuckle, the Killing Star touched his mask.
“Very well. Just one question, then. How did you know I didn’t intend to kill you?”
“Because you leaked your killing intent.”
Taking a calm sip of tea, Cheon Mujin smiled.
“If a man like you truly wanted me dead, you would’ve done it quietly and left. Not stood here broadcasting intent.”
Meeting the masked eyes squarely, he recalled the unmasked face he had seen before—an expression always weighed down, never joyful, even though killing was his trade.
“Does that answer satisfy?”
“…This time, I’ll let it pass.”
Rising, the Killing Star gazed at him briefly before fading like smoke.
“We must immediately increase your guards!”
“There’s no need.”
“Several assassin units on the Eastern Front have already defected to Young Master Cheon Muyang. And now the Killing Star himself appears? This is a warning, nothing less.”
Jin Sohee, ready to rush out and summon reinforcements, was held back by Cheon Mujin.
“The very fact that the Killing Star came openly proves there’s nothing to worry about. If he truly meant to kill me, he wouldn’t have revealed himself at all.”
“But still…”
Despite his reassurances, Jin Sohee’s worry remained. Yet while she fidgeted, Cheon Mujin stood and, to her shock, reached out to touch her head.
“Alright, done.”
“W-what did you do?”
“A gift.”
He grinned and produced a finely crafted ornament, placing it upon her hair. Jin Sohee’s eyes widened as she saw her reflection in its polished surface.
The ornament looked expensive at a glance.
“I kept missing the chance to give this to you. How is it? Not bad?”
“…T-thank you.”
“Good. I’m glad you like it.”
Cheon Mujin smiled and sat back down.
“Now that that’s settled, let’s chat a bit. Ah—what about that friend of ours, Kang Gu-gyeom? I heard he got engaged.”
Was he doing well?
* * *
“The Killing Star came to you?”
“Yes.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“…You didn’t fight, did you?”
“Please. If we had, I wouldn’t look this fine.”
Cheon Mujin chuckled as he looked at his personal guards sprawled on the ground, struggling to catch their breath.
“Looks like you’re the ones who fought. Why are you so weak?”
“Maybe it’s not us being weak, but Young Master being too healthy.”
Panting, Yoo Hyunhwa stood, spear in hand, glaring sharply at him.
Yes, that was more like her.
Her unyielding spirit—that was her defining trait.
But.
Smack!
“Gahhh!”
“Come back when you’ve polished yourself more.”
If sheer stubbornness solved everything, life would be too easy.
Effortlessly parrying her thrust and stepping inside her guard, Cheon Mujin rapped her on the head with a knuckle, sending her sprawling.
She clutched her skull and rolled on the ground, pitiful to behold—but such was reality.
Flicking his hand casually, Cheon Mujin dodged Baek Woo’s sudden strike.
He twisted aside, kneeing toward Baek Woo’s exposed torso.
Baek Woo blocked with his hand, using the impact to push off and counter. Cheon Mujin smiled, impressed.
“Not bad. Still needs work.”
Predicting the attack and chaining his defense into offense had been good, but his speed and precision were lacking.
Ducking under Baek Woo’s kick, Cheon Mujin flicked his forehead with a sharp snap, sending him flying.
“Graaah!”
Baek Woo howled, clutching his head as he tumbled across the training ground floor.
Smirking, Cheon Mujin turned his eyes to Do Woojin, who sat off to the side.
“I’ll sit this one out.”
“Being strict with yourself is a good habit.”
Shrugging, Do Woojin shook his head at Cheon Mujin’s relaxed composure.
“Your senses seem sharper than before, Young Master.”
“Sharper, huh…”
Cheon Mujin chuckled.
“I suppose it’s about that time.”
“Sir?”
“Nothing. Don’t mind me.”
Do Woojin lacked the courage to press further. As silence fell, commotion rose outside the training grounds.
“Y-young Master, a visitor has come!”
At the servant’s panicked voice, Cheon Mujin frowned and stepped outside.
“Oh, Young Master Cheon Mujin. An honor to finally meet you. My name is Gong Mundo.”
“…Gong Mundo?”
The name felt oddly familiar. Cheon Mujin furrowed his brow deeper.
Since returning to the past, he had taken care to memorize the names of people he must never forget.
If he ever encountered such people by chance, he wanted to be able to help them.
He had memorized all the important figures. And yet…
‘Gong Mundo. Where have I seen that face before?’
The man looked about thirty, and something about him nagged at Cheon Mujin’s mind.
Not being able to recall right away meant he likely wasn’t someone critical. But still—this itch felt like something important.
What was it?
“I’ve come to make you a proposal, Young Master.”
“A proposal? You mean to strike a deal with me?”
“Yes, exactly.”
If he couldn’t remember the man, then perhaps this encounter itself was fate.
Nodding, Cheon Mujin led Gong Mundo into his study.
“Excuse my sweat; I was in the middle of training.”
“Think nothing of it. Training is the daily life of a warrior—it is no fault.”
“I appreciate your understanding. Now then, what is this proposal of yours?”
“It is simple.”
With eyes suddenly cold, Gong Mundo lowered his head and moved his lips silently.
Recognizing it as a secret voice transmission, Cheon Mujin’s gaze hardened.
Then—
“Ha… hahaha! Hahahahaha!”
Cheon Mujin burst out laughing, startling not only Gong Mundo but also his escort Seol Yuhwa.
“So someone dares make such a proposal to me? Seems my name has truly risen in value.”
Still smiling faintly, he approached Gong Mundo.
Instinctively, Geom Yujin—one of his guards—handed over a dagger he carried.
Then—
Crunch!
“AAAGHHH!”
With a calm expression, Cheon Mujin drove the blade straight through Gong Mundo’s hand, pinning it to the desk.
“How dare you propose I assassinate my own brother, to the heir of the Cheon Clan?”
His voice was icy enough to chill the blood.
Even Geom Yujin, who had always seen him laugh off surprise attacks and endure Yoo Hyunhwa’s reckless remarks without anger, flinched in fear.
“Treason carries a heavy price. Are you prepared to bear it?”
Cheon Mujin’s eyes glowed with a deadly, bone-chilling cold.
Gong Mundo’s complexion turned pale as death.
