Chapter 28. First Stratagem
The demonic sometimes pretends to be good, or even transforms outright into goodness. In this way, when the demonic is invisible to my eyes, I inevitably fall to it disguised as good. That is because disguised goodness is more seductive than true goodness.
— Franz Kafka, Czech author
***
"Ugh. Ahh!"
"Pant… pant…"
The sticky moans of a woman.
The heavy panting of a young man.
Their subtle harmony filled the luxurious room, echoing richly throughout.
Moonlight filtering through a large antique window with a ribbed lattice pattern shimmered softly. The light reflected off the sweat sliding across the man's tightly tensed back and the smooth thighs of the woman wrapped around his waist, making them glisten.
The man's movements gradually grew faster. In response, the woman's moans slowly grew louder.
Then, at a certain moment.
The man's lower body trembled violently.
"Ah!"
The woman's short cry of climax cut hotly through the moonlight streaming in through the window. She had reached her peak. Immediately after, the man's sturdy upper body collapsed fully onto the woman's ample chest.
"Haa—."
The woman's body shuddered once more in the afterglow of climax, then she slowly opened her eyes. A heated, breathless sigh escaped her lips, momentarily obscuring her vision as it mixed with the warmth radiating from the man's back. That moment was very brief.
"Huh!?"
As the heated breath cleared and her sight returned, something strange caught her eye. She had shared intercourse with this man many times in this room and knew its structure quite well. No matter how dark the night was, she would not fail to recognize the shape of the ceiling.
She opened her eyes wide and scrutinized the ceiling carefully. It was hard to say exactly what was wrong, but it was definitely subtly unnatural.
Just as she was about to speak to the man lying atop her—the owner of this room—
Suddenly, two bluish lights appeared in one spot on the ceiling. They looked like the phosphorescent eyes of a nocturnal beast. No, upon closer inspection, they were not merely like eyes—they were real eyes. The only difference was that they were not those of a wild animal, but of a real human.
The ceiling had not changed shape. Someone was clinging to it.
"W-who?"
The instinctive first words anyone would utter upon an unexpected encounter with an unforeseen person. And those words became the last she spoke in this world.
Screee! Thud!
A dagger flew straight into her open mouth and lodged there. Her tongue, which moments ago had been producing sticky erotic moans, was pierced straight through by the dagger.
Spurt.
As blood burst from the woman's mouth and splashed across the naked man's back, the masked figure also dropped down to the floor.
Slash.
Failing to achieve his dark purpose aimed at the man, the black-clad assassin instead severed the woman's neck. The woman lost her head to the assassin's single strike. Yet her head remained atop the bed. The dagger embedded in her mouth had pierced through the back of her skull and sunk deep into the bed.
Clang.
The man, having avoided the black-clad assassin's sword, immediately sprang from the bed the moment the attack began, as if he had known of the assassin's presence all along, and drew the sword hanging on the wall.
Without the slightest hesitation, he thrust his sword toward the assassin.
It appeared to be a simple thrust, but that was an illusion. In truth, that single strike occupied every possible direction the assassin could move. If the assassin dodged in any direction, the sword would scatter variations and block the path.
Parararak!
The man's sword moved cunningly as it assaulted the assassin.
Now there was only one way for the assassin to survive—directly counter the man's strike. As if aware of this, the black-clad assassin raised the sword that had beheaded the woman and thrust it straight toward the man.
But the man had absolute confidence in his sword.
There were not many in the entire Martial World who could withstand this strike. Especially in Anhui Province, they could be counted on one hand. It was not a sword that a mere assassin could counter.
He harbored not the slightest doubt. The neck of the fearless assassin who had dared target him would fall to the ground by this single strike.
And yet!
Wooooong!
The assassin's sword suddenly turned ink-black, emitting a bizarre sword ring. Along with it, the black-clad assassin's dark sword energy rampaged wildly, beginning to sever all of the man's sword energy. The man's sword energy was being completely annihilated before it could even release its variations.
"Hm!? This is?"
The man's surprise was not because his sword had been blocked. What shocked him was that although it was a sword art he had not seen in a very long time, he knew the assassin's sword art extremely well.
"Mad Slaughter Sword!? Damn it!"
The man hurriedly withdrew his extended sword, but it was already too late. In the end, the trembling tip of his blade collided midair with the assassin's dark sword energy.
Clash-clash!
Compared to the momentum both swords unleashed, the sound of shattering blades was not particularly loud. However, the shockwave was anything but light.
In the lingering aftermath of the black-clad assassin's shattered dark sword energy, cuts appeared all over the man's naked body, and deep sword gouges were carved into the floor and ceiling between them.
Meanwhile, one side of the assassin's mask was sliced away, revealing the lower half of his face. A long gash ran across his left cheek.
Neither had achieved a complete victory—an outcome akin to mutual damage.
They continued to glare at each other for a long while, swords still pointed forward.
Then, at a certain moment.
"Hahahahaha."
For some reason, the man suddenly burst into loud laughter and lowered his sword. His now-shrunken manhood dangled grotesquely. Though he knew the black-clad figure was still pointing a sword at him, he paid no mind and walked to the table in the center of the room, sitting down casually.
The black-clad figure, seeing the man lower his sword, also silently lowered his own and crossed his arms, standing straight as he stared at the man.
Both were expressing that they had no intention of continuing the fight.
Clack.
The man placed his sword loudly atop the table and spoke first.
"Has it been ten years?"
"Nine years and one hundred ninety days."
Ten years, and nine years and one hundred ninety days. Though their memories differed in precision, the two clearly knew each other.
"Gwangun, that's just like you. Still remembering even trivial details so precisely."
"...…."
The man called the black-clad figure Gwangun, and seemed to know him well. From this, it was clear that Gwangun had not originally come to kill the man. As if proving it, the killing intent that had been naturally flowing from Gwangun's body dissipated.
Though Gwangun still gave no response, the man continued speaking.
"So, what brings the Eighteen Clouds here personally?"
Their relationship did not seem particularly smooth, and the man's tone sounded faintly mocking. Still, Gwangun appeared unconcerned and began speaking his own piece.
"An order has come down. Ashen Shadow."
Gwangun's voice was rough, as if he were speaking with a mouthful of sand.
"An order?"
Ashen Shadow repeated the word, confirming whether he had heard correctly. But such confirmation was unnecessary. Though they had not met in over a decade, Ashen Shadow knew better than anyone that Gwangun was not someone who misspoke.
Ashen Shadow's body flushed hot, followed by a violent shudder. An excitement he had never felt from intercourse—not with the headless woman sprawled on the bed, nor with any other woman—surged through him at the mere mention of the word "order."
An order.
How long had it been since he last heard that word?
'Ten years?'
He had entered the Martial World under 'his' orders. After that, Ashen Shadow had not received a single order for ten full years. And now, one had suddenly been issued.
The playful expression that habitually lingered on his face vanished, and all lightness drained from his voice.
"What are the details?"
"First Stratagem."
"...!"
The words that came from Gwangun's mouth were rough but brief.
It was an answer he had anticipated, yet it still struck him with shock. The reason he had entered the Martial World, and the reason he had lived until now, were all contained within those two words.
'First Stratagem!'
Gwangun and Ashen Shadow's gazes intertwined in midair.
Ashen Shadow asked another question—about the key figure essential to executing the First Stratagem.
"What about Shadow Shifter?"
As if he had been waiting, Gwangun answered immediately.
"Namgung Family."
"The date?"
Perhaps because it had long been foretold, their exchange—though cryptic and extremely brief—flowed without the slightest obstruction.
"This month's full moon is Shadow Shifter's wedding day."
"A wedding? Shadow Shifter? Then don't tell me—Shadow Shifter is!?"
"...…."
Though Gwangun gave no further hints, Ashen Shadow could already guess whom Shadow Shifter was impersonating.
"The level?"
Level—referring to the degree. Though the question again omitted all context, Gwangun answered without hesitation.
"Everyone except Shadow Shifter and Namgung Hye."
Ashen Shadow nodded as if he had expected that answer. But there was still one concern lingering in his mind.
"You do know this, right? Tang Wu, the Soul-Chasing Poisoned Hand, is currently in Anhui. Is he included among the targets?"
"Of course."
"That's too much for just the forces here. Reinforcements?"
"Five shadows."
"Five shadows?"
"Seven, including Shadow Shifter and you."
"...!"
Ashen Shadow was genuinely shocked. The First Stratagem was indeed important, but he had not expected such unprecedented support. That alone spoke volumes of 'his' determination.
"With that much force, even with Tang Wu present, success should be easy. But why are you here? I thought you were support."
"I have separate business."
"Laying groundwork for the Second Stratagem, then."
"...…."
As expected, Gwangun did not respond to questions that required no answer.
Ashen Shadow did not press further. Gwangun's silence was answer enough. All that mattered was that each fulfilled their own assigned mission. Shadows and clouds had different roles. They had been raised that way, and they lived that way.
Seemingly finished speaking, Gwangun turned his body to leave. Watching his back, Ashen Shadow asked one final question.
"Oh, by the way—what was Shadow Shifter's name again?"
Though he had already guessed Shadow Shifter's identity, Ashen Shadow asked for confirmation.
"Do Heo-ok."
The moment Gwangun spoke the name, he vanished from the spot like extinguished dust, as if he had never existed there at all.
"Gwangun. Unlucky as ever, then and now. Tch. So, is this really the beginning?"
Ashen Shadow shook his head once and walked toward the bed.
The headless upper body of the woman still lay sprawled atop it. He kicked it off the bed. Blood flowed from the lonely throat, staining the floor, but he paid it no mind. Such things happened often here, and no one would be shocked or reproach him over the death of such a mere plaything.
Ashen Shadow roughly wiped the sweat from his body and put on clothes stained with the woman's blood. The seriousness from earlier had completely vanished from his face, replaced by his usual playful demeanor.
"Tch. Because of that bastard Gwangun, my favorite clothes are soaked in blood. Damn it. Still, who would've thought the shadows would end up getting married? Hah. I'm jealous in so many ways. Shadow Shifter becoming a hero of the orthodox path, and on top of that marrying Anhui's First Beauty. Meanwhile, I'm stuck in this gloomy place, dealing with some rag like that."
Leaving behind words that sounded half like a joke and half like genuine envy, he exited the room.
Clack.
The door closed, and silence descended upon the room.
Only the woman's severed head, with a blade lodged in her mouth, remained—locked in a silent staring contest with the moon.
This was the chamber of Pa Gahyeol, the Silver Naked Color Demon, supreme overseer of the Anhui branch of Heavenly Demon Castle.