Straight to ambush

Cho Gwan came to a sudden halt on a branch, hand raised.

Instantly, the others froze beside him. Silence followed — trained, absolute.

Below them, a narrow dirt path wound through the forest. A small caravan of three carts moved slowly along the trail, wheels creaking. A handful of armed men walked beside them, glancing around nervously.

The guards were too jumpy. Their eyes moved like prey on the run.

Jin squinted. "Is this the target?"

Mae-Bi didn't answer.

He remembered this mission.

This is where Cho Gwan died.

Not from one of the guards. No — those were just bait. The real danger had been the hidden master, cloaked in suppressed Qi, waiting in the treeline. When Cho Gwan moved in for the kill, he was cleaved in half before he could blink.

Mae-Bi scanned the forest. The setup hadn't changed.

Cho Gwan's voice broke the silence, calm and detached. "Confirmed. Target has the stolen artifact. Orders are kill-and-retrieve. No survivors."

"Roger," Jin replied coldly.

"Are they from an orthodox sect?" Mae-Bi asked, baiting the conversation.

Cho Gwan narrowed his eyes. "Doubtful. Judging by their energy signatures, they're scattered. Low-class mercenaries, maybe. Weak."

That's what he thought last time, too.

Cho Gwan raised his hand again. "I'll strike. You cover."

Jin shifted, his muscles coiled to move.

But Mae-Bi didn't.

His eyes were already sweeping the treeline, mind racing.

He's here. Somewhere. Close.

[System Alert: Hidden threat detected. Qi suppression technique active.]

[Activating Enhanced Perception Mode.]

Mae-Bi's vision pulsed.

In an instant, the colors of the world shifted — and his gaze locked on a subtle shimmer behind a thick tree trunk, twenty meters from the road. The bark warped slightly, unnaturally.

There he was.

Still. Patient. Sword in hand.

A master-class killer waiting to counter-kill.

"Cho Gwan—" Mae-Bi stepped forward, raising a hand to warn him.

Cho Gwan's glare cut through the moment like a blade.

"You trying to give me orders now?"

His tone was flat, but his eyes were sharp with threat.

Mae-Bi lowered his hand with a faint smile.

"Of course not, Squad Leader."

Cho Gwan didn't wait for a response. In one breath, he dropped from the tree, using Veil Step to disappear into shadow.

Jin and Mae-Bi moved into position without hesitation one to the left, one flanking wide to the right.

Below, the guards walked with false confidence, unaware death was already descending.

Cho Gwan dropped among them like a phantom, his blade flashing through the hot summer air. One step. One slice. He was already bringing the blade down toward a guard's exposed neck—

Then—

Boom.

A shockwave of killing intent cracked the forest silence like thunder.

Mae-Bi's eyes snapped toward the source. A breath later, he grabbed Jin and yanked him back behind a tree, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Stay quiet," he whispered coldly.

Jin's eyes widened.

Cho Gwan had sensed it too.

He froze mid-kill, body twisting, eyes darting toward the treeline — where a pressure unlike anything before surged into the clearing.

His instincts screamed to run.

But he didn't.

Running was suicide.

"…Show yourself," Cho Gwan demanded, voice tight.

From the shadows, a man emerged — robes aged and faded, silver eyes glowing like steel under moonlight. In his hand, a long curved sword shimmered with refined, restrained violence.

He moved like mist, and struck like lightning.

SWOOSH.

"CHO GWAN, MOVE!" Jin yelled.

Too late.

The sword cut down in a clean arc, splitting the air.

Cho Gwan's Blood Eyes burned red.

Motion Reading – Active.

He barely twisted aside, avoiding a direct deathblow — but not unscathed. A deep gash opened across his back. Blood sprayed.

The two clashed again.

Steel met steel in a storm of speed. The rogue master fought effortlessly, casually. His blade curved unnaturally, his stance too fluid.

He was toying with Cho Gwan.

Jin gritted his teeth. "Why aren't we helping?! He's gonna die!"

Mae-Bi didn't answer immediately.

His mind was already turning.

He activated the system with a thought.

[Analyzing target technique…]

[Mimic Mode: Active. Do you wish to copy?]

Mae-Bi narrowed his eyes, locking on the master's movements.

"Yes."

[Confirmed. Beginning replication.]

Suddenly, pain lanced through his skull — like lightning through bone. His vision distorted, slowing, reshaping. Every swing of the master's blade burned itself into his mind.

Mae-Bi gritted his teeth—

Then collapsed to one knee with a muffled yell.

"GRAHH—!"

Jin flinched. "Mae-Bi?!"

[Technique identified: Sable Fang Sword – Third Form. Skill imprint complete. Warning: Muscle adaptation required. Temporary neural strain may occur.]

Mae-Bi's breath was ragged, but he forced himself to stand.

The pain wasn't unfamiliar.

It was the cost of power.

The man stepped forward, blade humming with bloodlust.

Sable Fang Sword – Third Form.

He swung once more — a blur of curved steel and ruthless momentum.

Cho Gwan barely parried.

Steel clashed, but the impact sent him flying backward, crashing into the dirt. Blood sprayed from his shoulder as he dropped to one knee, clutching the wound with gritted teeth.

"Tch… damn it."

The rogue swordsman chuckled, voice rough and full of spite.

"What's wrong, brat? Legs shaking?" He pointed the tip of his blade at Cho's face. "Die for me, you bastard dog of the Demon Cult."

Cho closed his eyes.

He knew it.

He couldn't win.

This was the end.

But then—

Clank.

Steel met steel — not his.

Cho opened his eyes in time to see the curved sword halted in mid-air.

Blocked.

By a dagger.

Mae-Bi stood in front of him, one arm raised, his stance low and steady. His blade had intercepted the master's deathblow.

Cho's breath caught.

"…You?"

The swordsman took a step back, eyes narrowing. "Who the hell are you?"

Mae-Bi said nothing. He exhaled, releasing a slow breath as his Qi surged.

He stepped forward.

Seven steps. One breath. Sable Fang Sword – Third Form.

But this time — the technique flowed flawlessly.

The rogue's eyes widened. "You—!? You know my sword?!"

His voice cracked with disbelief.

"That technique… I spent thirty years crafting it! I forged it in blood and failure! I fought for recognition in the orthodox world, but they never gave me a name! Never looked at me twice!"

His blade trembled.

"I stole that artifact because it holds a pill — a sacred elixir that could push me past my bottleneck. It was my last shot. My name… I wanted my name to be carved into the martial world!"

He launched forward again, furious.

"You think you can take my sword with your filthy cult-blood hands?!"

Clash!

Mae-Bi's dagger met his blade in a storm of sparks.

Steel rang against steel as they traded blows in rapid bursts. Every slash from the rogue was heavy with rage. Every parry from Mae-Bi, clean and calculated.

Blood Eyes – Motion Reading.

Death Thread Vision – Active.

Mae-Bi moved like he'd trained the form his whole life — not just watched it once.

The rogue's strikes began to slow.

He saw it — every step, every movement — perfected in front of him.

And it crushed him.

The technique he poured decades into, completed by a boy trained to kill, not create.

The last exchange came fast.

A feint — a twist — and they passed each other.

Both stopped.

The man wobbled slightly, blood trickling from his lips.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Mae-Bi turned his head slightly. "Mae-Bi."

The man smiled.

"…Hyeon Mu-Yeon," he said. "Remember it."

He coughed hard. Blood hit the dirt.

"My sword… it was born of desperation. I never perfected it. You… did."

Mae-Bi watched silently.

Mu-Yeon chuckled.

"Take it. Finish it. Use it right."

Blood sprayed from his mouth — and a red line formed across his throat.

His head slid clean off his shoulders.

But his body… didn't fall.

He died standing.

Not a monster.

Just a man with a dream that outlived him.