Chapter 301. Youngwoo Strikes Back 4
Salmak's assassins were dying one after another without accomplishing anything.
Jeon Seungdo, the Master of Salmak, tilted his head in puzzlement.
There were always losses during a killing operation.
It was rare to finish a job without getting even a drop of blood on one's own hands.
If the task were that easy, no one would have sought out Salmak in the first place.
People came to them only when every other method had failed, when there was no way forward either openly or in secret.
But this job was too strange.
Men were dying before the operation had even properly begun, during the preparation stage.
Stranger still, every one of them was being killed by the very devices they had installed themselves.
The man preparing poison had eaten his own poison and died.
The man setting nooses had been strangled by his own line.
The man installing a Flying Needle Tube had been riddled with needles.
The man setting up an arrow launcher had been pierced by his own barrage.
If they had died to some other weapon, Jeon Seungdo would have searched for the killer.
He would have asked who was hiding nearby, where the attack came from, which route had been compromised.
If they had been discovered, he could change methods.
If they were being followed, he could cut off the tail.
But this time was different.
Every man had been struck by something he himself had installed, prepared, and trusted.
From the outside, each death looked like an accident.
A cord stepped on by mistake.
Poison mishandled.
A firing mechanism triggered at the wrong moment.
But so many mistakes could not happen on the same day around the same temple.
Was there some precise intention behind it?
Jeon Seungdo stopped at the thought.
But he did not halt the operation.
Salmak had already taken the advance.
Once they accepted a job, they had to complete it.
That was how Salmak protected its name.
So they slipped back into the temple grounds.
They spread poison.
Hid weapons.
Set launchers.
Hung nooses.
And died again.
At first, the deaths were quiet.
Men collapsed behind alleys, beneath walls, by the well, at the threshold of the kitchen.
But as time passed, the traces grew harder to hide.
The traps being installed were exposed.
Blood spread across the snow.
Shredded pieces of clothing hung from tree branches.
Now even ordinary pilgrims could tell that something was wrong.
The number of casualties passed into the dozens.
Yet the target still did not appear.
All anyone knew was that he was inside the meditation hall.
No one had seen his face.
While Salmak's men continued to die, Yi Youngwoo seemed not to have drawn his sword even once.
That was what unsettled Jeon Seungdo the most.
If an opponent was strong, one could deal with strength.
If he was fast, one could block more routes than he could take.
If he was powerful, one could bind him with poison and traps.
But if the enemy remained still and merely twisted their own hands and feet against them, that was a different kind of battle.
For the first time, Jeon Seungdo bit his lip.
It no longer felt as though Salmak had come to hunt someone.
It felt as though all of Salmak had walked into an invisible net.
Would a fish be caught if it already knew there was a net?
Salmak's people had tried to weave the area around Guangyou Temple into one vast trap.
But before the net was even finished, the men laying it were the first to be caught and killed.
People died in perfectly ordinary places.
In alleys that looked harmless.
Beneath snow-covered walls.
Behind the kitchen.
Near the well.
Along the narrow path leading toward the meditation hall.
At first, it looked like an accident.
The second time, perhaps coincidence.
But once the same thing repeated itself, no one could call it chance.
Meanwhile, the wonju was beside himself with anxiety.
People were dying almost every day.
Each time something happened, he went to Youngwoo and explained what was going on.
But even after going, there was little he could actually say.
All the monk could do was warn him to be careful.
Youngwoo simply sat there as though he already knew everything.
Fortunately, none of the monks had suffered serious harm.
Even so, the fact that traps had been planted inside the temple grounds was a profound shock.
Men who had entered pretending to bow before the Buddha had buried poisoned spikes beneath the walls, hidden poison near the kitchen, and strung Silver Threads across the path to the meditation hall.
It felt as though the peace of the temple itself had been violated.
The wonju restricted the monks from going outside unless necessary.
He also reduced the number of pilgrims allowed in.
Someone was always stationed near the kitchen and the well.
The path behind the meditation hall was closed entirely.
He even requested help from the Regent's Office and had more soldiers assigned to patrol the area around Guangyou Temple.
Whether those patrols could truly be trusted was another question.
Still, he could not simply do nothing.
The younger monks searched the snow with shovels and brooms.
The older monks continued chanting while keeping their ears tuned to every sound beyond the doors.
Watching Salmak fail again and again, Bae Junho realized the operation was going wrong.
He had believed Salmak would live up to its reputation.
Instead, they had not even managed to get close to Youngwoo.
Men kept dying.
And the area around Guangyou Temple was becoming harder and harder to approach.
Bae Junho began calculating an escape.
Using the excuse that he needed to meet Salmak again, he left the inn.
He hid several silver bottles deep inside his clothes and intended to reach the place where horses were kept.
If he found even one opening, he meant to leave Liaoyang immediately.
But at the end of the alley, he ran into a checkpoint.
Soldiers from the Regent's Office blocked the road.
They did not look like men on an ordinary patrol.
They recognized Bae Junho.
Checked his face.
Asked where he was going.
It was as though someone had already warned them that he might try to flee.
"I'm going to meet Salmak's people."
Bae Junho said it plainly, but the soldiers did not move aside.
"We have orders from the Chief. If you intend to go anywhere, you need an escort."
Only then did Bae Junho understand.
Go Youngchang did not trust him either.
He had handed him the silver and given him the job, but he had also anticipated the possibility of escape and blocked the roads in advance.
Bae Junho had no choice but to return to the inn.
Meanwhile, Salmak committed even more people to the operation.
At first, they had sent scouts and poisoners.
Then came specialists in hidden weapons and traps.
When those failed as well, more men were brought in.
But the result remained the same.
One man died from the poison he had mixed himself.
Another had his foot pierced by the poisoned spike he had buried.
Another was strangled by the noose he had hung.
Another was riddled by the Flying Needle Tube he had installed.
Sending more men changed nothing.
One Salmak method after another was exposed, and the men who devised those methods died by them.
The area around Guangyou Temple was becoming a strange battlefield.
No swords crossed.
No war cries rang out.
No horses thundered through the streets.
Only killing intent was tearing into its own flesh across the snow.
Every device Salmak had placed was turning back toward Salmak itself.