Black Path, Martial Artists

Daytime in Luoyang was busy, so busy.

Since ancient times, Luoyang had been an indispensable center of politics, economy, and culture on the continent.

The current Luoyang was the center 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 biggest reasons Luoyang became a mega-city of several million people, and the volume of goods flowing in and out through here was beyond imagination.

It was common enough to see Semu merchants interested in the Central Plains interior.

Among the crowds teeming with all sorts of unusual goods and merchants of various kinds, there were those who drew the attention of bystanders - none other than Yuan Zhaoxian's party.

"Oh, what a beautiful young lady!"

When a Semu merchant exclaimed in broken Central Plains language while looking at Jingya, the Central Plains merchant beside him hurriedly pulled his sleeve.

"My friend! Where are you pointing?"

"What's wrong?"

As the Semu merchant looked bewildered, the Central Plains merchant subtly gestured with his chin toward behind Jingya.

"Don't you see that guard? They're from the Luoyang Sword Clan."

As soon as he heard the words Luoyang Sword Clan, the Semu merchant immediately withdrew his finger.

"...That Luoyang Sword Clan?"

"Yes, that Luoyang Sword Clan."

The Semu merchant couldn't help but react that way.

From the moment one first set foot in the northern inland region, the warnings one constantly heard were about the Luoyang Sword Clan.

Though she was followed by just someone in guard uniform, for this reason, Jingya didn't receive even a single flirtation.

The way cleared naturally in the direction their party was walking was for the same reason.

"Hmm. I have separate business to attend to, so I'll join you later."

At Yuan Zhaoxian's words, the gatekeeper blocked his way.

"What are you saying? Surely you're not planning to leave me, your guard, behind?"

Yuan Zhaoxian looked at him with an expression that said what are you talking about.

"Of course I'm leaving you behind? You just guard Jingya well."

The gatekeeper put his hand to his forehead and sighed.

"No, what nonsense are you... Huh? Huh?!"

In the brief moment he closed his eyes to sigh, Yuan Zhaoxian had long since disappeared.

"The Young Master went that way!"

The gatekeeper leaped in the direction Jingya pointed.

"Oh! A martial artist!"

"That's lightness skill!"

Exclamations burst out from around them, but he paid no attention and landed on the roof of a four-story building.

He hurriedly raised his eye power to look around, but not only the First Young Master, even his shadow couldn't be seen.

"What is this..."

It was enough to make ghosts wail.

Though he had been constantly circulating his inner power for guarding, this First Young Master had disappeared from right in front of him without the slightest trace.

Doubts rose about the identity of the First Young Master called the Swordless One, but now wasn't the time.

'Should I report first?'

But where would he report to?

Even if he did report, it would obviously be problematic.

Given the clan's attitude toward the First Young Master, it was obvious that ultimately all responsibility would primarily fall on him first.

"Damn it...!"

After cursing, he returned to Jingya's side in one breath.

"Attendant maid. I'm sorry but you'll have to handle your business alone. I must find the First Young Master as soon as possible..."

Before he finished speaking, Jingya nodded.

"I can protect myself, so don't worry and please look after the Young Master."

The gatekeeper clicked his tongue at her composed attitude.

"Aren't you worried?"

Jingya shook her head with a faint smile.

"For some reason, I find it hard to imagine anything happening to him."

"...That's true."

Actually, the gatekeeper somewhat agreed with this.

If he truly judged the First Young Master to be in danger, he wouldn't be leisurely talking with her like this.

From the moment he completely lost track of the First Young Master, if he really thought there was danger, he would have fired the specialized signal flare in his breast regardless of responsibility.

"Still, I'll continue looking for the Young Master for now."

"I'll see you later."

Before Jingya's farewell finished, his form disappeared, and she shrugged her shoulders and moved on.

***

Some distance away, in a corner of Luoyang.

That back alley, where surrounding buildings cast deep shadows, was a place ordinary citizens wouldn't dare approach.

The old tattoo artist settled in that back alley was known for being stubborn and ill-tempered, being retired from the Black Path.

But today he was unusually careful in his attitude.

The one comfortably reclining in the chair was a man boasting a truly massive build.

With extraordinary bones and muscles, plus thick flesh on top, he looked not like a person but like a bull sitting there.

And completing that fierce appearance were large and small skull tattoos covering his enormous body.

What the tattoo artist was adding now was also a new skull tattoo, and the number of black skull tattoos already filling his body seemed to easily exceed a hundred.

But what was more surprising was that the man was enjoying a nap while receiving the tattoo.

A nap while needles repeatedly pierced his flesh.

"Ahem, ahem."

The old tattoo artist cleared his throat softly, put down his needle, and aligned a metal mirror to the other's line of sight.

"Are you satisfied?"

The man who had been warming his face with a hot towel slightly lifted it and looked at the metal mirror.

The gleam in his eyes beneath the towel was like burning coal, and the hand lifting the towel was covered in scars and calluses.

"Good. Next."

He covered himself with the towel again and reclined deeply in the chair.

"Yes, I'll continue."

The tattoo artist, inwardly sighing in relief, began preparing to add the next skull.

Meanwhile, the man started enjoying his nap again, savoring the comfortable chair, warm towel, and cozy warmth from the brazier.

The tattoo artist clicked his tongue internally.

Indeed, these martial artists were definitely on a different level from normal humans.

And when the tattoo artist picked up his needle again,

"...!"

Someone quietly covered his mouth from behind.

The tattoo artist reflexively tried to resist somehow, but seeing the blue-gleaming blade in front of his neck, he raised both hands to show he had no intention of resistance.

Then another man appeared and put his finger to his lips.

The man wasn't large and was thin, but the muscles on his exposed areas were grotesquely defined, and his eyes were sharp as blades.

'A-assassins...!'

Seeing their actions and appearance, the Black Path-origin tattoo artist quickly assessed the atmosphere and decided to cooperate obediently with the assassins.

The tattoo artist slowly nodded and carefully backed away as guided by the assassin covering his mouth.

As he backed away, two more assassins entered through the entrance.

With blades in their mouths, they advanced without a sound through the narrow tattoo shop, not even glancing at the tattoo artist.

"..."

Though the number of people in the cramped shop suddenly more than doubled like that, they didn't make a sound of breathing or any trace.

The target was clear.

Two assassins took positions precisely targeting the bull-like massive man, and their raised blades gleamed blue.

"...!"

There wasn't even a battle cry.

The two blades flashed toward vital points at exactly the same moment.

CRACK!

The tattoo artist watching couldn't believe his eyes.

The clearly sleeping man had caught the falling blades from both sides with his bare hands.

"Huk...!"

Before the tattoo artist could even gasp at that sight, the two assassins who had attacked the man were embedded in opposite walls.

The left assassin's chest was caved in, and the right assassin's jaw was crushed.

Instant death.

And the man who had risen from his seat sometime was so huge he seemed like his head would touch the ceiling.

His outstretched hands still held the blades.

Blood flowed from those tightly clenched fists, down his forearms, and dripped to the floor.

"Hehehehe."

A deep laugh fitting his size filled the room.

"You can hide your presence, hide your killing intent, but you can't hide the sharpness of blades."

The man looked down at the remaining assassins with eyes overflowing with killing intent.

"...Kill him!"

The two remaining assassins charged from the front.

"Hm."

The man who snorted briefly spun the blades in his hands to grip them properly.

A movement that seemed merely showy, by the time that movement finished, the assassins' blades were already flying toward the man's nose.

However,

The blades in the man's hands flashed.

The blade that pierced one assassin's stomach emerged from his mouth, and the blade that dug into the other assassin's shoulder emerged from the opposite side.

Though the blades had clearly reached his nose, the man who moved later was fine, while the assassins collapsed to the floor in pieces.

Though he moved later, he was faster.

Though he only moved his arms, he was stronger.

"This is the difference between martial artists and worms like you. Understand?"

The man roughly threw away the blades, pulled back the chair that had fallen behind him, and sat.

Then he spoke to the old tattoo artist who had frozen, covered in blood and entrails.

"Hey, need to add four more skull tattoos."

"Yes! Yes!"

The tattoo artist jumped up and began preparing to continue the procedure with trembling hands.

"Oho, you scored another good one, my brother."

The one who poked his head into the shop was a man almost identical to the one in the chair in both size and appearance.

The only differences were the locations of scars and tattoos.

"Hey, brother's here. I had some fun alone while you were gone."

"Well done. But about that..."

He scratched his dirty beard.

"In the end, couldn't find that mask craftsman. Or the ones who went to catch him."

The man in the chair snorted.

"See, that's why I said not to trust outsourced bastards."

The man outside clicked his tongue.

"But didn't they say our guys took care of that mask craftsman's family?"

The man in the chair shrugged.

"Heard they were just supposed to rough them up, but accidentally killed them all."

"Ha. Hot-blooded fellows."

"Our Black Bone Faction guys tend to be a bit overenthusiastic. We're like that too. Hehe."

The man standing outside shook his head and opened his mouth.

"But there's something bothering me, just heard some strange stories from our guys in charge of that area."

"What is it?"

The man frowned as if puzzled himself.

"They say that mask craftsman's shop is doing business normally now?"

The man lying in the chair shot up.

"Huh? Isn't it that mask craftsman bastard?"

"Ah, well. The guys say it's not him."

"Then?"

"Well that's probably..."

The man recalled what he had heard.

"They said it was some scholar-like fellow with a pale complexion?"