My Cultivation System Runs on Karma

CHAPTER 10: Assassin's Breath

"Who sent you?" Gyu-Jin demanded softly. "Did the Black Dog Gang hire you? Or are you a spy from the Demonic Cult testing our border security? Speak, and I might let a physician look at that poison."

"You... talk too much," I whispered, my voice sounding like gravel crushed under a boot. 

Gyu-Jin's eyes narrowed. His hand shot out, moving with the terrifying speed of an Orthodox master. He grabbed my broken, dislocated left shoulder and squeezed violently. 

A fresh, blinding wave of agony exploded in my joint. I didn't scream. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted fresh blood, my jaw locked tight. I glared right back into his eyes, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

"Tough," Gyu-Jin sneered, twisting his grip. "I like tough men. They sound so much better when they finally break. You think you can stare me down, trash? I am the future of the Murim Alliance. I decide who lives and who rots in this city."

I spat a mouthful of blood and saliva directly onto his pristine leather boot. 

"You're a hypocrite," I rasped, a dark, mocking smile touching the corner of my lips. "I smell the... Unorthodox bribes on you, Gyu-Jin. You reek of the Shadow Hall's silver."

Gyu-Jin froze. The color drained from his perfectly manicured face. 

For a fraction of a second, raw, unfiltered panic flashed in his eyes. How could a beggar know about his secret dealings with the assassin guilds? It was impossible. 

The panic was instantly replaced by a murderous, suffocating killing intent. 

"I'm going to carve your tongue out," Gyu-Jin whispered, reaching for the hilt of the ornamental sword at his waist. 

"Brother Nam."

The voice cut through the damp air like a blade of ice. It wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable, crushing authority. 

Gyu-Jin flinched, pulling his hand away from his sword hilt instantly. He stood up, smoothing the front of his silk robes, and hastily plastered his fake, gentle smile back onto his face. He turned toward the cell door. 

Standing in the corridor was a young man dressed in the pristine, unblemished white robes of the Mount Hua Sect. His posture was ramrod straight, his jawline sharp, and his eyes as cold and unforgiving as a winter storm. He carried a simple steel longsword at his hip, free of any ornamental jewels or gold trim. 

Seo Kang-Hyun. The Cold Righteous Genius. 

"Brother Seo," Gyu-Jin said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. "What brings you to the deep interrogation cells? This place is far too filthy for the First Disciple of Mount Hua."

Kang-Hyun did not return the smile. He did not bow. He looked at Gyu-Jin's boots, noting the water and the blood I had spat on the leather. 

"The guards reported that you confiscated a guest token from the Heavenly Sword Sect, Brother Nam," Kang-Hyun said. His voice was strict, adhering rigidly to the rules of the Alliance. "And that you bypassed the magistrate to throw the suspect directly into the dark cells. Without a physician."

"The man is clearly an Unorthodox spy," Gyu-Jin replied seamlessly, waving his hand toward me. "He stole the token. I was simply securing him before he could harm anyone in the Merchant District."

"The Alliance rules state that anyone holding a sect token must be interrogated formally, in the light, with a physician present," Kang-Hyun countered, stepping into the cell. The aura around him was incredibly pure, lacking the suffocating arrogance of Gyu-Jin. It was the aura of a man who genuinely believed in the righteous path. "We are the Orthodox faction. We do not torture unarmed men in the dark. That is the behavior of the Demonic Cult."

Gyu-Jin's jaw tightened. A flash of pure hatred crossed his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. He couldn't afford to anger the First Disciple of Mount Hua over a street rat. 

"Of course, Brother Seo," Gyu-Jin said, forcing a chuckle. "I was merely taking precautions. The city has been tense lately. I leave him in your capable hands. If he dies from his wounds before the magistrate sees him, it is the will of the Heavens."

Gyu-Jin gave me one last, promising glare before turning and walking out of the cell, his leather boots echoing down the hall. 

The cell fell silent again, save for the dripping water. 

Seo Kang-Hyun stood over me. He looked at my tattered, blood-soaked hanbok, my bruised neck, and the black, poisoned veins mapping the side of my face. There was no pity in his eyes. Only cold, objective calculation. 

He knelt down in the filthy water, uncaring that it stained his pristine white robes. 

"You are dying," Kang-Hyun stated plainly. 

"Astute," I rasped, my breath rattling in my chest. "Are you... going to preach to me... or get a doctor?"

Kang-Hyun ignored my taunt. He reached out with two fingers, pressing them firmly against the pulse point on my unbroken right wrist. He closed his eyes, sending a tiny thread of his own pure, Orthodox Qi into my meridians to assess my condition. 

The moment his Qi entered my body, I knew I was in trouble. 

My own Qi—the golden energy converted from Karma—was currently compressed tightly around my heart. To maintain that seal, I was instinctively using the Shadow Hall's internal breathing technique. It was a dark, twisting circulation method, designed to hide one's presence and violently compress energy for assassination strikes. 

It was the unmistakable signature of the Unorthodox factions. 

Kang-Hyun's eyes snapped open. The cold neutrality in his gaze vanished, replaced by a sudden, terrifying hostility. 

He didn't pull his hand away. Instead, his grip on my wrist tightened like an iron vise, crushing the bone. 

The system window flashed violently in my vision. 

[Warning! Hostile Entity Detected!]

[Alignment: Orthodox Extremist]

[Danger Level: Fatal]

"Nightshade extract in your blood," Kang-Hyun whispered, his voice dangerously low. "And the reverse-meridian circulation technique guarding your heart. That is the breathing art of the Shadow Assassination Hall."

He released my wrist and instantly drew his longsword. The sharp sound of the steel filled the small cell. He leveled the razor-sharp tip of the blade directly at my throat, the metal pressing slightly into my skin, drawing a bead of fresh blood. 

"You aren't a beggar," Kang-Hyun said, his eyes burning with righteous fury. "You are an assassin. Give me one reason why I shouldn't take your head right now."