1.

When Hae Eung-eung began her stealth training in the park, she had no particular thoughts—just mild curiosity about the cigarette smell from the woman leaning against the lamppost.
Even during the Association’s random check, she remained indifferent, toying with the scanner by fluctuating her internal energy to confuse its readings.

But her irritation escalated a few days later.
She noticed that “passersby” stationed near her training routes and usual spots bore striking similarities to the individuals she’d seen in the park. Though they wore different outfits, their gaits, physiques, and features were unmistakable.

“If you’re going to surveil me, at least try not to be obvious. What, do they think I’m an idiot?”

Such blatant carelessness was laughable to her. A competent intelligence group—like Gaebang or Hao Gate—would never make such mistakes. They would disguise operatives with facial modification techniques, bone-compression methods, or even scent alteration.

By contrast, the Association’s surveillance methods seemed crude and amateurish.

“At the very least, rotate your people. Reusing the same agents within days and expecting not to get caught?”

In no time, Hae Eung-eung identified all members of the Association's C-Team, their surveillance vehicle, and their monitoring hub.

“Leaving your command vehicle in plain sight? That’s practically inviting me to make a move.”

Still, she restrained herself. The organization behind this effort was unknown to her. They could be linked to Woo Ji-woo’s mysterious benefactors, the Myung-ho Guild, or even another group. She decided to play dumb for now, eavesdropping on their conversations via wireless earbuds.

“C1 lost to a clueless girl like this?”
“She doesn’t seem aware of the surveillance.”
“Stay sharp. Have you already forgotten that C7 was exposed at the park?”
“C7’s a woman, man. Chill out, not like she’s opening her legs for you.”

The crudeness snapped her patience.

2.

The target disappeared.

Moments of careless chatter distracted even the monitor operators in the surveillance vehicle. When they looked back at their screens, she was gone.

“Emergency! The target has vanished. Ground units, initiate an immediate search.”

But the agents remained oddly motionless—some standing by vending machines, others sitting on benches or fiddling with earpieces.

“Are you ignoring orders? I repeat, begin the search!”

Still, no one moved. One operator, suspicious of the stillness, redirected a camera.

On the screen, a vending machine agent appeared to be selecting a drink. However, when the camera angle shifted to capture his face, the monitor zoomed in.

“Shit.”
“When did she notice us?”

The agent's face was unnaturally red, veins bulging, his body stiff as if paralyzed. He wasn’t choosing a drink; he was immobilized.

“Get the car out of here. Now.”
“This is Association territory. Are you seriously trying to take over command?”
“Do you not understand the situation? The target has neutralized all our ground units. What do you think she’ll come for next?”

Just as the car began to move, a loud pop stopped it in its tracks.

“Was that an attack?”
“The tires are slashed!”
“How?”

The agents’ chatter cut off abruptly. Their voices silenced, they froze. The monitor operator peering outside didn’t respond to a colleague’s tap on his shoulder. Instead, he slumped forward, lifeless, as if he had been struck by something unseen.

“Fall back! Pull out now!”

A panicked agent tried to flee but was stopped after only a few steps. From the trees, a hand emerged, grabbing his head. Within seconds, he was paralyzed like the rest.

Hae Eung-eung emerged, icy eyes gleaming. She climbed into the surveillance vehicle. One agent inside trembled, too terrified to reach for his gun or radio.

She held up a notepad:

“Why are you surveilling me?”
“Who ordered it?”
“Where are they now?”

When he shook his head, refusing to answer, she calmly flipped to another page:

“Do you know what ‘Fragmenting the Bones and Sinews’ means?”

He didn’t. She flipped the page again, revealing a diagram. His face drained of color.

“Don’t worry. You’ll understand soon enough.”

3.

After ten minutes of excruciating “Fragmenting the Bones and Sinews” torture, the agent revealed everything he knew.

Hae Eung-eung took care not to cause permanent damage. She targeted only pressure points that inflicted severe but temporary pain, avoiding those that could result in lasting disabilities.

“I’m not sure why the Association decided to dig into my past, but I can’t let this slide.”

In both Murim and modern society, enduring an attack without retaliation only marked someone as weak—a pushover. She needed to set an example.

Storming the Association’s safe house, she incapacitated guards with quick, precise strikes. Slicing through their weapons, radios, and earpieces, she left them frozen in pain but alive.

Within minutes, she reached C0, the ringleader.

“Hae Eung-eung, we know what you are. Do you think you’ll get away with this?”

She held up her notepad:

“What do you think you know about me?”

“We know you came from China. Don’t think we didn’t notice.”

She tilted her head, unimpressed.

“Is that all?”

“That’s more than enough to detain you.”

The sheer ignorance on his face made her blood run cold. If they had relied on such flimsy intel, it was clear they had no understanding of her true identity or capabilities.

“If you truly knew anything about me, you wouldn’t dare pull a stunt like this.”

“What, do you think your bluff will work on me?”

But the flicker of fear in his eyes betrayed him.

Her suspicions solidified. Someone in the Association likely knew of Murim’s returnees but had experienced only the most peaceful, sanitized version of the realm.

“You’ve never even heard of the Blood Calamity or the Sect Wars, have you?”

His blank expression confirmed it.

Without hesitation, she gripped his head firmly, channeling energy into specific points. Unlike the others, C0’s punishment was permanent—a message not just for him but for anyone who dared meddle again.

4.

C0, now a broken man, was reduced to a babbling shell, unable to control even his basic bodily functions.

Even high-level healing skills from A-rank Awakeners failed to restore him.

“Let’s agree on this,” said Kwak Hoon, the head of the surveillance division. “Until she acts out again, we leave her alone.”

Unanimous agreement followed. The Association could not afford another disaster.

Later, Kwak Hoon issued additional orders:

“Withdraw surveillance on Woo Ji-woo. Restrict all access to information about Hae Eung-eung—code name The Silent Swordsman. Level 1 classification.”

Hae Eung-eung had proven herself untouchable, and Kwak Hoon knew better than to gamble further.

“If only the Gate Expedition team were here,” he muttered, lamenting the absence of the country’s top Awakeners, who had ventured beyond the Gate for two months.

When they returned, they would include a survivor of Murim’s “Very Hard” difficulty—a force that might finally tip the scales.

For now, the Association could do nothing but wait.