The Eldest Daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan Protects Her Family

Chapter 18: Choices

Clang!
The blade clashed against the incoming throwing knife, deflecting it. A flurry of smaller projectiles followed, tearing at the assassin's robes.
Tang Hak pressed his attack, focusing on driving the enemy back. One of his throwing knives grazed the assassin’s shoulder.

“Keuk.”
The torn fabric of the mask slipped, revealing the assassin’s face and a shock of red hair. The assassin stumbled back, disappearing into the dense foliage. But Sohwa had seen it, the flash of crimson.
‘The Blood Cult…’ It was said that practicing the Blood Cult’s martial arts caused physical changes, the hair turning red as one’s skill increased, the eyes eventually turning blood-red at the highest levels of mastery.

Waves of intense heat, like exploding firecrackers, pulsed around Sohwa. An inexhaustible surge of internal energy, unlike the righteous sects whose internal energy depleted with prolonged exertion. The Blood Cult could replenish their energy by consuming the life force of others, but there was a limit. Though they could temporarily wield immense power, their bodies eventually succumbed to the strain, their meridians unable to contain the overwhelming force.
Like moths drawn to a flame, consuming themselves in the fire.
Tang Min often mocked them, calling them insects.

Sohwa froze. The Blood Cult was a heretical sect that had been eradicated decades ago, a sect reviled throughout the martial world for their practice of consuming human blood.
She finally understood the nature of the scorching energy emanating from them. The Blood Cult’s techniques were less martial arts and more akin to dark sorcery. They were burning their life force, a desperate gamble for power.
The Blood Cult assassin, his face partially obscured by the remnants of his mask, now tied around his head, dropped down from the tree. He glanced briefly at Yeon-a and the old physician standing behind her, then crouched, like a predator preparing to pounce.

Sohwa, seizing the opportunity, flung a throwing knife at his thigh. The knife missed its mark, grazing his leg.
“Keuk.”
But it was enough.

As the assassin stumbled, she threw another knife. The Blood Cult assassin, mid-leap, twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the projectile. It wasn’t a direct threat, yet he reacted instinctively, wary of even a glancing blow.
He landed awkwardly, stumbling slightly, his leg momentarily numb from the poison that had entered his bloodstream through the graze on his thigh. He hadn't been directly hit. If he had, the poison would have already begun to necrotize his flesh. Yet, he remained standing. He was strong.
Another assassin, witnessing his comrade's reaction, hesitated, his gaze fixed on Sohwa.

They were from the group that had descended from the Divine Physician's troupe. They had likely witnessed their comrades succumbing to the poison and were now wary of Sohwa.
It was a welcome reaction.
Sohwa flicked her wrist, three more throwing knives appearing between her fingers. Her gaze locked onto the red-haired assassin.
All she had to do was buy time. A prolonged standoff was to her advantage.

“Miss, get behind me!” Yeon-a suddenly stepped forward, oblivious to the situation, attempting to protect Sohwa.
Sohwa muttered through gritted teeth, “…You need to stay back.” The assassins needed to believe she was weak. Only then would they maintain a safe distance, giving her time. They had to believe she was a formidable poison master, forcing them to proceed with caution. But Yeon-a, unaware of her strategy, was jeopardizing everything.
Whoosh.

A gust of wind brushed against her face, and Sohwa instinctively pressed her throwing knives against her palm. As the wind whipped her hair back, a sharp, metallic clang echoed through the air.
Kaang!
She deflected the incoming blade with the knife in her palm, diverting the assassin’s attack. The blade grazed her cheek, a thin line of blood welling up. Before the droplets could fall, the assassin, using the momentum of his deflected attack, twisted his body, aiming for her side. Sohwa quickly lowered her hand, blocking the blade with the knife in her palm.

Screech.
The grating sound of metal against metal sent shivers down her spine.
“Surprisingly quick for a pampered little miss,” the assassin sneered. He had reason to be surprised. Despite her enhanced perception, she hadn't seen his attack coming. She had reacted instinctively to the searing heat against her skin, like pulling away from a flame.

A thin, thread-like light emanated from the assassin’s sword.
Sizzle.
A red strand of sword energy, almost invisible, sliced through the throwing knife in her hand. The knife, moments ago a defensive weapon, was now a threat to her own flesh.

A searing pain shot through her palm as the poison on the blade entered her bloodstream. The assassin, seeing the blackening flesh of her hand, smirked.
But Sohwa’s expression remained unchanged. It was a small amount, easily neutralized by her body’s natural defenses.
“Miss!” Yeon-a, unaware of Sohwa’s unique constitution, cried out in alarm, charging towards the assassin. He momentarily disengaged from Sohwa, turning to face Yeon-a. Her untrained, reckless attacks were full of openings, and the skilled assassin exploited them all.

“Euk!”
A deep gash appeared on Yeon-a’s arm. It was a testament to her quick reflexes that she hadn't been struck in a more vital area.
Sohwa reached for her throwing knives, but her hand, though healing rapidly, was still numb. She clenched her fist, trying to regain feeling, when another assassin charged towards her.

Whoosh.
She threw a knife, but her numb hand betrayed her, the knife flying off course. The assassin’s sword, its tip aimed directly at her, was now inches from her face. It was a perfect strike, unavoidable.
But then, strangely, the sword, which had been hurtling towards her in a straight line, plunged into the ground.

Kwang!
Sohwa, who had been staring unflinchingly at the approaching blade, squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden burst of light, a blinding flash that exploded like a supernova. She quickly opened them, but her vision was blurred, the world around her a hazy white.
Two distinct whooshing sounds, slicing through the air, reached her ears.

Thud.
The sound of a body collapsing was followed by the coppery tang of blood.
Just as her vision began to clear, a large shadow fell over her.

Her eyes, assaulted by the extremes of light and darkness, struggled to focus. Yet, she knew who it was.
As her vision returned, she saw him, his back to her. Long hair cascading down his back, a dark cloak concealing a simple blue robe.
He flicked his wrist, shaking off the blood from his sword. The radiating heat and the clear, refreshing scent of his internal energy spoke volumes about his skill. He had taken down two Blood Cult assassins with a single strike.

“Young Master!”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t kill them,” he replied, his voice calm and steady. He glanced around the clearing, then turned.
She had never seen him before, not in this life or her previous one. Yet, she knew who he was.

Namgung Jin, heir to the Namgung Clan.
She remembered Yehwa’s description of him: skin as smooth and flawless as polished jade, his features accentuated by the sharp contrast of his thick eyebrows and high nose. Though his expression was gentle, almost ethereal, like a watercolor painting, the image of him was said to be etched into one’s memory, as vivid and permanent as a sculpted portrait.
She had dismissed it as an exaggeration. Now, facing him, she understood. She hadn't doubted Yehwa’s sincerity. Both Namgung An, the current Patriarch, and Namgung Hyeon, her former husband, were renowned for their beauty. It was natural to assume that the deceased heir apparent would also be handsome. However, unlike his father and half-brother, Namgung Jin’s features were striking, a distinct and memorable face that overshadowed theirs. The same refined lines, but without the softness. Perhaps it was the aura of power emanating from his imposing physique.

Suddenly, the clearing was engulfed in a wave of shimmering heat.
“Don’t kill them! Capture them alive!” A gruff voice, amplified by internal energy, boomed through the forest. The Namgung Clan warriors, responding to the command, moved swiftly, surrounding the remaining Blood Cult assassins, cutting off their escape.
The tide had turned. Outnumbered and surrounded, the Blood Cult assassins were trapped.

Namgung Jin glanced around the clearing, a faint smile playing on his lips. Sohwa’s eyebrow twitched, mirroring his upward curving lips. She didn't understand why he was smiling.
He approached her, his smile unwavering. Without a word, he knelt down and pulled a cloth from his belt. He carefully picked up something from the ground, wrapping it in the cloth.
It was a throwing knife.

Her throwing knife.
Sohwa’s gaze met his. He stood up, offering her the knife with a smile. “May I ask why the Tang Clan’s young miss is here?”