Chapter 126

By imperial decree, the Imperial Army raided and eradicated the hideout of the group known as Moran. Only after they turned over each fallen body one by one and confirmed that all had drawn their last breath did they report the situation to the Emperor.

The next order that came down was to burn not only the corpses but also the hideout itself, leaving not a single trace behind. The Imperial soldiers gathered the bodies into one place to prevent the fire from spreading too far, while sprinkling water and sand along the perimeter of the hideout.

Once preparations were complete, the soldiers spread out to survey the surrounding area one last time. It was then that they discovered, belatedly, a suspicious figure attempting to slip away in concealment.

Black clothes. A black hood.

Though they did not know his identity, that man was none other than Iyeok, leader of Moran.

“Catch him! Don’t let him escape!”

A military officer shouted desperately. Having already reported to the Emperor that Moran had been annihilated, they were now compelled to capture and kill him at all costs.

In the midst of the fierce chase, Iyeok misplaced his step and plummeted from a cliff. Judging from the steepness and height, the Imperial soldiers concluded that survival was highly unlikely for the man in black.

However, unlikely is not impossible.

They fetched a rope and began carefully descending the cliffside. They had gone down only a short distance when they saw that a tree branch growing from the cliff face had been snapped, and nearby, a naturally formed cave was visible. A narrow path extended from within the cave.

Iyeok had leapt from the cliff deliberately, aiming for this exact route from the start.

“Report this to His Majesty at once!”

Following the officer’s order, a swift rider mounted a horse and galloped toward the Imperial Palace without delay. They were certain that the Emperor would hear the news immediately.

Yet, even as they assumed their message would be delivered, Iyeok had already slipped out from the narrow path clinging tightly to the cliff wall—unknowing that a soldier had been sent and was waiting for him as though anticipating his arrival.

After a struggle of grappling and rolling upon the ground, Iyeok killed the soldier and rifled through his clothing. As expected, he found a short written report stating that a survivor existed.

Iyeok crumpled the paper, stuffed it into his mouth, and swallowed it in one gulp. If it reached the Emperor before he had met Yungak, it could result in Yungak’s life being endangered. If the Emperor had discovered Moran’s whereabouts, then Yungak would be the next target.

Calculating the travel time from the Yangtze River to the Imperial City, Iyeok seized the reins of a horse grazing leisurely nearby and mounted up. Normally, the trip would take much longer; however, a variable arose in his favor—Yungak’s capricious decision to switch from a carriage to horseback mid-journey.

Without hesitation, Iyeok spurred the horse forward. If Yungak had taken the fastest route, then arriving earlier and blocking his entry into the Imperial City was the only way. That was how Iyeok managed to intercept Yungak along the road.

Meanwhile, over the course of several days, the Imperial Army searched near the cave and cliff for Iyeok but never found him. They eventually returned to the Imperial City, having only dealt with Moran’s corpses and hideout.

On the way, they came across the corpse of the soldier who had carried the message. They then realized their fatal mistake—having delivered the news to the Emperor without confirming the survival status of Moran’s leader—but by then, it was too late.

This news was first conveyed to Geumhu, and afterward, in due course, to the Emperor, who had since left the palace again. Because word of a surviving Moran member was delayed, they missed capturing Yungak, who had fled earlier.

At that time, Haban had not yet reunited with Dori, so he devoted his efforts both to finding Dori and to pursuing Yungak.

Given the situation, it seemed logical to begin a search along the road from the Yangtze River to the Imperial City. After all, the corpse of one of the “Shadow Assassins” trailing Yungak had been found far from the Imperial City.

Nevertheless, after some thought, Haban suddenly dispatched soldiers within and around the Imperial City itself. His reasoning was that a man who had lost every advantage had few moves left—meaning he was more likely to be hiding nearby than to have fled far.

Surprisingly, Yungak—whom they expected to find easily due to his conspicuous hair color and striking appearance—was nowhere to be seen.

Indeed, Yungak had not fled far, just as Haban suspected. Merely, no one had yet seen him.

At that moment, Yungak was at the very place where he had once intended to conceal the White Fox.

“Aaaargh!”

With a nervous, irritable sweep of his arm, everything on the dining table was knocked to the floor.

Though there was a hearth inside, he dared not light a fire for fear that the smoke would give away his location. Thus, he had been reduced to eating a modest meal of mainly dried and cold provisions—meager but prepared with care—which was now scattered in disarray across the floor.

A single unbroken wooden bowl rolled and came to rest at Iyeok’s feet.

“How much longer am I supposed to keep eating this garbage!”

Yungak’s face had grown pale from the cold as he shouted. Yet it wasn’t truly the rough food that infuriated him. It was that the meticulous plan he had built up over so long had collapsed in an instant. Had it failed gradually, like the removal of stones from a foundation, the shock might not have been so severe.

The fact that it had all come undone over something as trivial as a single White Fox was maddening—and worse still, even that fox had been lost midway.

As Yungak fumed, Iyeok knelt before him and began clearing the floor. Judging from his motions—calmly picking up dried herbs—this was far from the first time he had done such tasks.

Thud!

Yungak kicked him.

“What on earth have you been doing! You couldn’t even bring back a worthless White Fox!”

Had he at least kept the fox, Yungak might have borne his present humiliation more easily. Day after day, he endured this wretched state by venting his wrath upon Iyeok. Yet, unlike when they had met on the road, Iyeok had regained enough strength to withstand Yungak’s vicious kicks without falling.

Whack, whack!

Only after several blows did Yungak, breathing heavily, slump down.

While his master caught his breath after his outburst, Iyeok finished cleaning beneath the table, then placed small portions of jerky and dried fruit into a bowl—one of the few things Yungak would accept, chewing as though he were an emperor himself. Since they had intended to keep the White Fox here temporarily if captured, they had stocked some provisions, which made the situation tolerable until now.

Still, they could not hide here forever. A few days later, they made preparations to leave. Though Moran’s members in the hideout had been massacred, some still remained in the Yangtze region and the former territory of the Yan Kingdom, allowing for plans to regroup in the future.

“I will not go.”

“You must go.”

“I said, I am not going!”

Smack!

Only after enduring several slaps from Yungak’s obstinate refusal could Iyeok begin packing their things. With them was the Moran member who had been sent to retrieve the White Fox from a hunter.

Yungak had been on the verge of killing him for his failure, but Iyeok’s intervention spared his life. Even without a tongue, the Moran operative managed to convey the following:

Inside the hut was only a red-haired man—and no sign of the White Fox from the start. However, a man with snow-white hair and golden eyes was with him, both of them having removed their clothes. It was apparent they were on the verge of intimacy.

Given the orders to kill the red-haired man and bring back the White Fox, the operative was momentarily thrown off. Still, he resolved first to kill the red-haired man, then deal with the other.

He lunged at the red-haired man, who brandished a small knife. He had expected to finish him quickly and then kill the other, but the red-haired man resisted more effectively than anticipated. Meanwhile, the white-haired man took advantage of the moment to flee the hut.

The red-haired man attempted to chase him, but the operative managed to stab him with a knife before he dashed outside and vanished altogether—so swiftly that not even the Moran operative, skilled in disappearing from sight, could track him with his eyes.

After hearing all of this, both Iyeok and Yungak were overcome with a peculiar, indescribable feeling.

Wonwoo, who had disguised himself as a eunuch in the Imperial Palace, was the successor to a prominent merchant guild. While self-defense was within the realm of possibility, possessing skill to rival that of a Moran operative was suspicious.

Moreover—where had the White Fox gone?

Could it be that Wonwoo, who risked infiltrating the palace to reclaim the fox, had abandoned it just to frolic with some man? And that man, of all things, had snow-white hair and golden eyes.

It was possible that Wonwoo, fond as he was of the fox, had been drawn to a man whose hair resembled its color.

The Emperor who cherished the White Fox enough to bestow it—and Wonwoo, said to have lain with a man who resembled it. Too great a coincidence to brush aside.

There seemed to be some connection between these figures—yet the thought that the beast itself could take human form had not crossed their minds.

At last, Yungak and Iyeok completed their preparations. They split their load in two, with Iyeok and the Moran operative each carrying a portion. To evade the Emperor’s eyes, they had to travel on foot, slowly but carefully.

The Moran operative took the lead, Yungak was in the middle, and Iyeok brought up the rear—lest the operative, if placed behind Yungak, devise other plans. With his head still barely attached to his shoulders, the operative would not dare act rashly while Yungak was in sight.

Though Yungak had feigned incompetence before the Emperor by letting arrows fall short of even three steps, his true skill was nearly equal to Iyeok’s.

“Are you not weary?”

“……”

Avoiding marked roads made it difficult to keep their bearings, so they decided to rest.

While the tongueless operative’s silence was expected, Yungak—who had been quick to throw tantrums in that abandoned house—was unnervingly quiet. Still, his eyes burned with a cold blue fire.

Glancing at his master, Iyeok pulled out a canteen.

“Shall I offer you some water?”

“I don’t need it.”

After that curt reply, Yungak fell silent again.

It was then—

They heard human voices, as though in conversation—interspersed with the cry of a fox.

In an instant, the three exchanged looks.

Nodding, the Moran operative silently moved toward the sound. Yungak and Iyeok followed at a crouch, slowly approaching until they saw it—

A person, and a fox, facing one another.

Yungak’s eyes glittered hungrily.

‘…That’s—!’