Mok Gyeongwoon's life ended instantly with a snap.
The assailant was momentarily stunned, but his confusion didn't last long.
"You bastard!"
Fury shot through him, propelling him to grab the boy by the throat and slam him against the wall.
Thud!
It was unbelievable.
Mok Gyeongwoon, despite being considered a third-rate martial artist due to his mediocre skills, was still far beyond a mere civilian.
Even for a death row inmate, the disparity in martial prowess was clear.
But could Mok Gyeongwoon's neck have been snapped in an instant, even by surprise?
In his bewilderment, the boy spoke with a neutral expression, "Even with the sleeping incense, shouldn't you avoid causing a commotion?"
"What? You dare say that now...!?"
The assailant frowned, noticing the boy didn't seem to be in any distress despite being choked. In fact, he was speaking normally.
'His neck, why is it so...'
It felt like he was grappling with someone who had trained their external strength; the muscles in the boy's neck were unusually developed.
It seemed like it would take a substantial amount of force to break his neck.
'Could he have trained his external strength? No, that would require at least some internal strength.'
External training also typically requires the flow of Qi as its foundation.
Yet, this boy genuinely lacked internal strength.
This was no ordinary individual.
While the assailant's mind grew chaotic with these thoughts, he realized this wasn't the time for such musings.
"Mad fool. The young master gave you a chance, and you've gone insane. To turn against the one who offered an opportunity to a mere death row inmate..."
"Have I misunderstood the purpose of a stand-in?"
"What do you mean?"
"A stand-in is meant to face dangers in place of the real thing, isn't it? While it grants me a few more days of life, doesn't employing a death row inmate as a substitute also mean you could dispose of me at any time?"
The boy's calm reasoning left the assailant speechless.
This boy was smarter than expected.
A typical civilian or average death row inmate would be solely focused on surviving the current crisis.
'Could anyone even contemplate such a scheme?'
Yet here he was, assessing the situation and taking risks despite the potential of imminent death.
'What kind of person is this...?'
As the assailant was dumbfounded, the boy asked, "May I ask something?"
"Do you even understand your situation..."
"You mentioned you're a guard, but you seem quite calm for someone whose master has just died."
"You little..."
"If you can maintain such rationality, it doesn't seem like you cared much for your master, did it?"
"Ha!"
The boy's words struck a nerve. Indeed, the assailant harbored no great affection for the young master, who was nothing short of a troublemaker.
He was simply exasperated and angry at the unforeseen turn of events, not because of any personal loss.
'What a spectacle.'
To be manipulated by a mere death row inmate was ludicrous.
It made sense to eliminate the boy now that things had come to this. But losing him after Mok Gyeongwoon's death would only lead the Great Plum Sword Wall to seek his life in retribution.
'Damn, what a mess.'
His plans of securing a comfortable position within the sect, leveraging the third young master, were falling apart because of this cursed inmate.
As he wallowed in defeat, the boy suggested, "If you're not particularly attached, why not switch allegiance?"
"Switch allegiance?"
"Consider the one lying on the ground as the inmate scheduled for execution the day after tomorrow. Wouldn't that simplify things?"
The casual suggestion left the assailant both astonished and unnerved. This condemned inmate was essentially proposing to assume Mok Gyeongwoon's identity.
Squeeze!
The assailant tightened his grip.
Finally, the boy grunted in pain.
"Do you think killing the young master to take his place was your ticket out?"
With a slight smile, the boy retorted, "Is there... another reason?"
'!?'
The assailant swallowed hard.
What sort of creature was he dealing with? The boy's thought process was entirely alien to that of ordinary people.
His cunning was exceptional. Perhaps it was this very nature that had landed him on death row in the first place.
'This boy is dangerous.'
Regardless of whether the Great Plum Sword Wall sought retribution, killing him now seemed like the safer bet.
His instincts screamed that any association with this boy would bring nothing but trouble, regardless of his martial prowess or age.
Squeeze!
Intensifying his grip, he thought, 'Don't make me laugh. You'd be better off dead here.'
He was about to proceed with the killing when suddenly, the boy seized his wrist.
Grip
"Useless. Whether it was luck that I killed the young master, you're different."
As the assailant attempted to dislodge the boy's grip with his Qi-enhanced hand,
Snap!
'What is this?'
He was met with resistance as if striking a solid oak. The elasticity from the boy's wrist suggested his muscles were incredibly firm, enough to withstand the force imbued with internal strength.
In a swift motion, the assailant tore the sleeve from the boy's wrist.
'!?'
His eyes widened at the sight.
The densely packed muscles were as developed as those of someone who had dedicated decades solely to external training, almost prompting an exclamation.
Now, the truth was unveiled.
'...So, the young master was overmatched.'
It wasn't merely luck or a successful ambush.
Given the density of the boy's muscles, it appeared that ordinary strength wouldn't suffice to inflict any harm on him. Physically, he had surpassed the capabilities of a third-rate martial artist.
'Had this boy properly trained in martial arts...'
He might have become a formidable master.
But to truly cultivate internal strength, one must begin between the ages of five and ten. Any later, and impurities accumulate in the body's meridians, slowing the circulation of Qi.
Squeeze!
Pain shot through the wrist the assailant had grasped, as the boy exerted force to break free.
'What strength does this boy possess?'
Using the strength of a seven-star martial artist, and yet the boy was attempting to overpower him purely with physical force.
Realizing the futility of underestimation, the assailant executed a technique from the Metal-Water Swordsmanship, releasing his grip to instead catch the boy's wrist, twisting it behind him.
'What?'
Caught off guard, the boy's wrist was effortlessly twisted.
'Is this martial arts?'
If so, it was remarkably ingenious, utilizing his own strength against him. Thankfully, it also freed him to breathe and speak more comfortably.
Swish!
The assailant drew something from his waistband—a dagger.
He seemed intent on stabbing the boy.
To this, the boy questioned, "Is killing me truly necessary?"
"What?"
"Without the antidote, I'm as good as dead. Won't I have to follow your commands regardless?"
Pausing, the assailant hesitated with the dagger mid-air. The absurdity of the situation briefly escaped him; the boy had ingested the poison he provided.
'Ha!'
The irony of the situation struck him. A poisoned inmate was concocting such an elaborate plan.
'Is he banking on being the only replacement after the young master's death?'
The audacity was staggering.
"Your interest in the Great Plum Sword Wall or being the third young master is irrelevant to me," the boy declared.
"Irrelevant? And yet you orchestrate this...?"
"I simply seek to live a little longer."
"To live longer?"
What could he mean by that?
Intrigued, the assailant listened as the boy spoke profoundly, "Since you possess the antidote, you can manipulate me as you wish."
Momentarily caught off guard, the assailant had solely lamented the ruin of his retirement plans. He yearned for a peaceful life, distinct from his past.
The idea of starting anew elsewhere was dreadfully unappealing after investing so much time in finding the perfect sanctuary.
'To be manipulated as desired...'
He was torn. While enticing, the assailant was no fool. The boy was undeniably dangerous, cunning beyond control.
Yet, if the boy's desperation to live was genuine, he might not defy him, at least while under the threat of the poison.
'Should I switch allegiances?'
The entire purpose behind seeking a stand-in was to save the young master's life. But with the young master dead, utilizing the boy as a new pawn seemed feasible.
It might even spare him future headaches to manipulate this boy from behind the scenes.
'Yes, use him, then discard him.'
After brief contemplation, the assailant made his decision. He would exploit the boy for as long as necessary.
He warned, "Show any hint of betrayal, and you die. Disobey, and you die."
"Understood," the boy replied without hesitation.
"Remember, if you don't take the antidote within twelve hours, the poison will spread to your vital organs."
Snap!
Releasing the boy's twisted arm, the assailant watched as he rose, declaring, "From this moment, you are... Mok Gyeongwoon."
"Should I refer to you as Guard Kim, then?"
"Yes."
"And I may speak informally in front of others?"
"....Yes."
Though loath to be addressed so casually by the boy, clarity in their roles wouldn't hurt.
Then, the boy, now Mok Gyeongwoon, approached the real Mok Gyeongwoon's corpse, beginning to strip it of its clothes.
'Hmm.'
Guard Kim watched disapprovingly. Not instructed to do so, the boy's initiative to exchange their clothes further proved his cunning. It was regrettable only for the deceased 'real Mok Gyeongwoon'.
Swish-swish!
Mok Gyeongwoon removed the upper garment of his attire.
'Look at this boy.'
The assailant, now Guard Kim, noted the dense, well-developed muscles on the boy's upper body. Even wrapped in bandages stained with blood, the muscle definition was unmistakable.
'To think this is the physique of someone who hasn't trained externally...'
It was more surprising now than before.
Watching Mok Gyeongwoon's exposed torso, Guard Kim's eyes narrowed.
'But those bandages suggest a serious injury; why does he appear unharmed?'
That was the question.
If the wounds were old, it might make sense, but they seemed recent. Yet, Mok Gyeongwoon's complexion and movements showed no signs of ailment.
'What exactly happened?'
Curiosity about the boy's past and how he ended up sentenced to death grew. It seemed necessary to revisit the courthouse's acquaintance for more information.
Then, having changed into the real Mok Gyeongwoon's clothes, the boy turned to him and asked, "May I borrow the dagger?"
"The dagger...for what?"
Mok Gyeongwoon gestured nonchalantly towards the head of the 'real Mok Gyeongwoon', "Considering the body is more frail than mine, it seems prudent to leave only the head and take the rest."
"..."
Though the logic was sound, the boy's suggestion was unsettling.
It seemed wise to switch allegiances sooner rather than later.