The Invisible Stalker and the Emerald Eye

That was the truly terrifying part. If anyone possessed eyes of a different color, the sheer eccentricity of it would have caused rumors to spread far and wide. Yet, the fact that no one in the martial world knew the Head of the Hall of Discipline was a foreigner meant only one thing: everyone who knew the truth kept their mouths absolutely shut regarding Hwangeon’s private affairs.

Such control cannot be achieved through mere coercion or pressure. If it weren’t for the absolute terror he inspired, the truth about him could never have been suppressed so perfectly. As that realization dawned on me, a savage dread dried up my throat, and my breath hitched in my chest.

Amidst my panic, Hwangeon’s eyes, having fixed upon me, gleamed with a dreamlike, mesmerizing quality, like a mist-shrouded lake. It was a moment that rendered every rumor I had ever heard about him utterly meaningless.

Hearing tales of his cruelty, I had blindly imagined him to look like a monstrous Yaksha. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect him to be such an exquisitely handsome man.

A softly glowing, delicate line swept down from his brow, leading to a straight, high bridge of a nose, beneath which his lips burned a fatal, vivid crimson. Yet, etched clearly into that beauty was a cruelty so stark that he could seemingly cleave a man with a mere glance or extinguish a life without a second thought.

There wasn’t a single sharp or harsh angle to his outward appearance, leaving me entirely at a loss as to where this chilling aura originated.

I stared at him blankly, unable to twitch so much as a fingertip. I had expected him to look smug and triumphant upon finally tracking me down, but for some reason, he stood frozen, looking profoundly shocked.

His widened eyes and parted lips spoke volumes of his inner turmoil, though I couldn’t fathom what had caused it. His gaze, tracing my features as if touching them, slowly traveled down my body. The instant I realized what a wretched state I must be in, I bolted.

Of course, trying to flee from Hwangeon—a master who could deploy the ultimate heights of movement techniques as easily as breathing—was an exercise in futility. Even so, my mind went entirely blank, and I simply ran.

I heard no sounds of pursuit. From the very beginning, he must have known that a girl with no martial arts training could never escape him. That was likely why he didn’t rush.

He must have thought that no matter how hard I ran, it wouldn’t take an ounce of effort for him to track my presence.

But… would it really be that simple?

Never once during my time as a snake had I thought my transformation to be a blessing. If I thought back carefully, perhaps there were a few minor instances, but never had I been as grateful for it as I was at this very moment. By turning into a snake right then, I could deal him a massive shock of bewilderment.

The moment the scales took over, I scrambled frantically up a tree. I had never been this adept at climbing trees before, but the dire crisis seemed to have awakened an unexpected latent ability. Having scaled the height, and not knowing Hwangeon’s exact position, I flung my body with all my might toward a neighboring tree.

In my past life, I had heard tales from snake catchers about serpents that could fly. Of course, ‘flying’ didn’t mean soaring through the empty sky like a bird.

Judging that I could bridge the gap, I launched myself through the air and, fortunately, caught a branch without plummeting down. In this manner, I leaped across several trees. I had no idea how my attempt to flee from Hwangeon had somehow led me right back above him.

When Hwangeon’s figure came into view below, I felt the blood freeze in my veins. He was standing there, completely motionless. He appeared to be doing nothing, but in truth, he was expanding his sensory perception to pinpoint my location.

I didn’t dare breathe. Even if a snake’s breath wouldn’t make much noise anyway, I was doing my utmost to erase my presence.

Remaining entirely still, I looked down at him. As time ticked away, Hwangeon seemed to expand his sensory net even further.

Our suffocating standoff stretched on. Hwangeon was not a man to give up easily, nor was he one to accept defeat. I knew this about his character well, but I had never expected to witness it firsthand.

Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty. At one point, footsteps began to approach from somewhere. However, the sounds abruptly ceased, and the presence of the newcomers receded.

At first, I didn’t comprehend what had happened, but it soon hit me that Hwangeon must have sent a telepathic message to one of them. The technique of transmitting one’s voice directly into another’s mind without making a sound required a formidable level of internal energy.

Furthermore, the fact that he could precisely target someone he couldn’t even see over such a distance gave me a fresh estimation of his monstrous skill.

Hwangeon was clearly determined to keep everyone else away until he personally flushed me out.

Initially, I was taut with tension. But after an hour or two of the same exact state, exhaustion began to creep in. The frantic flight earlier had drained my stamina.

It was a stroke of luck that a snake doesn’t feel hunger easily and doesn’t require frequent feeding; otherwise, I would have been in a dire predicament.

‘Then again, who knows? I’m no ordinary snake, but a Single-Horned Python.’

At some point, my thoughts began to wander to such trivialities. Lacking hands and feet, I wasn’t at risk of rustling any leaves. Even if I slithered slightly, it didn’t seem likely that Hwangeon would notice.

My mind drifted further. What is Great Master Wonhyun doing right now? He must be worried sick about me. Did he go to see the Abbot?

No. Knowing him, he probably couldn’t bring himself to approach the Abbot. In fact, for the time being, he would likely keep his distance.

Believing that Hwangeon would suspect both him and the Abbot of plotting together, Great Master Wonhyun would deliberately isolate himself to shield the Abbot. It struck me that this might have been Hwangeon’s intention all along.

Hwangeon’s plot might already be a resounding success. Through this incident, he had forced a wedge between Great Master Wonhyun and the Abbot, successfully isolating the former.

‘Once that man leaves for another area, I’ll head back to the quarters. Gwangyeon must have made it back safely too, so that will do.’

Concluding my thoughts there, a dull haze washed over me. I was so utterly exhausted that I wanted nothing more than to drift into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Hwangeon truly did nothing. It was baffling. Given how much time had elapsed, shouldn’t he have moved on to another location by now?

Yet, he remained rooted to the spot, as though he had turned into solid stone.

At first, I thought his pride simply wouldn’t allow him to accept his failure, but I eventually realized that wasn’t the case. He stood there like a rock that had driven its roots deep into the bowels of the earth.

It was only much later that I finally understood what he was doing.

A roe deer materialized from the brush. Having fled deep into the forest with Gwangyeon, it wasn’t particularly strange for a deer to appear. What was strange, however, was that the deer trotted right up to where Hwangeon stood.

It behaved as though it had absolutely no idea a human was there. In fact, the deer didn’t even slow down right in front of him.

As I watched blankly, wondering if the deer was blind to his presence, the animal bumped squarely into Hwangeon’s body. Startled, it recoiled a few paces, only then registering his existence before ambling away in another direction.

The deer was merely the beginning. Various forest creatures began to appear around Hwangeon. The beasts that had fled in terror from the sudden influx of humans were now returning to their habitats.

It finally hit me: Hwangeon was completely erasing his existential presence to trap me. A primal horror prickled across my skin. Despite the agonizingly long hours, he hadn’t suffered a single lapse in concentration; if anything, his focus had grown sharper.

“…!”

Had it not been for an owl suddenly swooping down to hunt me, I would never have drawn Hwangeon’s gaze. If Hwangeon hadn’t concealed his presence so perfectly, the owl would never have launched its bold assault in the first place.

Taking advantage of the moment my attention was entirely fixed on Hwangeon, the owl tried to strike me with its razor-sharp talons and beak. Being a Single-Horned Python, I harbored a modicum of confidence in my body.

Hadn’t they said my hide couldn’t be pierced by swords or spears? Wasn’t that the nature of a Single-Horned Python?

Yet, as I had been feeling for some time now, that myth didn’t seem to apply to my current state.

After all, I had a history of getting my back scratched while being chased by a mere rabbit.

‘Could it be that the birds of prey on Mount Song are uniquely powerful because they feed on the spiritual beasts of the mountain?’

Unless that was the case, there was no explanation for such strength. Just then, a deafening, thunderous flapping of wings erupted. Before I could comprehend what was happening, a fluttering monastic sleeve filled my vision.

For a brief moment, my mind went blank. I couldn’t make sense of anything.

‘Ah… I’m falling.’

At first, I thought I was flying. But the ground rushed up to meet me at a terrifying speed. I tried to pull myself together to brace for a proper landing, but it was far too late for that.

I slammed into the dirt, bouncing several times. As I rolled to a stop, I saw a pair of feet land on the ground far more gracefully than I ever could. Above them, a monastic robe settled softly…

A profound sense of absolute doom washed over me. Slowly, I tilted my gaze upward. There, shining down upon me like a frozen dawn lake, were a pair of emerald-green eyes.

It was Hwangeon.

The office of the Head of the Hall of Discipline—a place notorious not just within Shaolin, but across the entire martial world.

To think I would ever set foot in here. I certainly wasn’t saying this out of awe or reverence; I had never wished to visit a place like this in my life.

Seated before Hwangeon were his disciples. Gwangyeon was nowhere to be seen, suggesting that not all of his followers were present.

Where was I, you ask? Absurdly enough, I was tucked inside Hwangeon’s sleeve pocket. And for the past while, his fingers had been casually, continuously stroking my back.