Chapter 113
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: The Keeper (3)
“Any intention of showing yourself?”
The official spoke into the empty air.
Of course, there was no reply. Only a heavy silence settled in.
“Iron Hand is always tricky. No matter how careful you are, someone always ends up tailing you...”
Pour.
The official filled his teacup.
White steam rose from the cup. Clear pale green tea filled the green porcelain.
“To think Heavenly Annihilation Division wouldn’t take any action—naive, or just ignorant of the martial world. Come out and have some tea. I won’t bite.”
Still no answer.
The official sipped his tea and muttered to himself.
“I know your type. Now that the messenger pigeon reached me, you’ll be watching me from here on. Day after day, until your tail shows. But... Heavenly Annihilation Division has what they call a ‘flowing water.’ Letting the water pass right through. Meaning your pursuit ends with me. No one else connected to me anymore. No one I’d go to, no one who’d come to me. Heh! That was the deal from the start. Plus, if the pigeon arrived four days late, that says it all. So have a cup of tea and go—that’s what I meant. Still can’t believe it?”
The official was talking to himself. No one answered. Not even a sign of another presence.
“Heh! Do as you like, then. I’ve said my piece. There’s nothing to gain here.”
The official lived like any ordinary man.
Mornings, he went to the county office to handle his duties. Evenings, he shared drinks with colleagues at the market tavern... Back home, he chatted and laughed with his family.
The official had parents. A wife and two daughters.
He even kept a mistress. Whether she was a formal concubine or just a fling was unclear, but he’d set her up in a house and visited regularly.
In a world where three wives and four concubines raised no eyebrows, a little philandering wasn’t a scandal. It didn’t hinder his career or tarnish his reputation as an official. It just cost a lot of money.
Was the official truly just the final outlet to shake off pursuers?
One day, the official caught another messenger pigeon.
“Well done flying here, you rascal.”
He gladly untied the message tube from its leg. But he didn’t check it. He showed no interest in the letter inside.
Snap!
The official wrung the pigeon’s neck.
This time, though, he didn’t mutter to the air or invite anyone in for tea.
The pigeon had arrived on time, so he seemed convinced nothing had happened en route. It didn’t matter if he was certain or not. Even if someone had followed it, no issue.
They could arrest and torture the official.
He was connected to the pigeons, after all—a lead to question about Heavenly Annihilation Division.
Yet the official remained utterly calm.
‘Hm!’
Four Thousand Four frowned.
A pursuer was here. But not a man this time—a hawk. One hawk dogged the pigeon’s trail.
Four Thousand Four knew this hawk.
Golden-Eyed Black Hawk!
Its body was pitch-black like an eagle’s. Its eyes gleamed gold.
The Golden-Eyed Black Hawk was unmistakable even from afar, with its striking features.
The Zhuge Clan had tailed the pigeon.
This Golden-Eyed Black Hawk had followed on its own accord, unrelated to Four Thousand Four.
Whoosh!
The hawk circled the county office once, then flew back.
The official remained free.
No one came to harm him. The hawk had checked the office and left—why hadn’t the Zhuge Clan acted?
Pour.
The official poured and drank his tea.
Drinking tea at the start of the You hour meant leaving the office. The last cup before heading out, sauntering away after rinsing his mouth.
Swoosh!
A man landed silently before the official like a ghost.
A sword hung at his chest. His features were soft, but his eyes were anything but.
“Was being county vice-magistrate not enough for you?”
The man who landed spoke lowly.
“Enough to live on. But when greed for money takes over... haha! You can’t handle it.”
The official was the county vice-magistrate. Second-in-command under the county magistrate, rank of proper eighth grade.
“Will you talk, as far as you know?”
“Hm!”
The vice-magistrate grunted.
He stared piercingly at the man. Soft features... but eyes that never smiled. No exceptional martial arts apparent. Call a few attendants now, and they could seize him.
This man... had watched him for a full month.
Four Thousand Four had noticed nothing all that time. Even forgot he was being tailed. Figured he’d left by now, accepted the flowing water like the others.
This was one scary bastard.
“I know nothing.”
The vice-magistrate bit his lower lip and said.
Flowing water could die anytime. The role always came with death as collateral. That’s why they paid so much for something as trivial as snapping a pigeon’s neck.
Now, time to pay the price.
Most just left. But this one stuck till the end. Showed himself, knowing there was nothing to hear, desperate for even a word.
“Do you use a sword?”
The vice-magistrate eyed the man’s sword.
“I ask the questions.”
“Understood.”
“Sometimes I use a sword. Sometimes not. Bought this one specially for coming here.”
In other words, bought it to use on the vice-magistrate.
A chill ran up the vice-magistrate’s spine. Just words, yet it felt like the blade already pierced his flesh.
“How much do you get paid for being flowing water?”
“A year’s salary.”
“Absurdly high for killing a few pigeons.”
“Situations like this.”
“When and from whom do you get that salary?”
“Someone delivers it. Turns out he’s just a messenger too. Asked to pass it on to someone midway.”
“So you’ve never met Heavenly Annihilation Division face-to-face.”
“Correct.”
“And you still took the job?”
“No one in this world doesn’t need money. Plenty would sell their soul for it. I’m just one of them.”
Just as expected.
The Zhuge Clan hadn’t investigated the official at all. Hadn’t sent men to watch or arrest him. They knew about the flowing water in Heavenly Annihilation Division.
The Golden-Eyed Black Hawk had confirmed it at the office.
The Zhuge Clan judged the official was flowing water—no need to touch him further.
Four Thousand Four had to verify even simple things himself. No one to do it for him.
“Quit this work, or you’ll die someday.”
“Hahaha! Quit and live? No one who took their money quits freely. That’s why the hawk just left.”
“You saw it?”
“Life’s on the line.”
“I heard enough.”
Four Thousand Four didn’t draw his sword. He simply turned and walked away, footsteps steady.
Heavenly Annihilation Division terrified him.
The wealth to use men like the vice-magistrate as mere flowing water. The power to kill them at will.
The vice-magistrate hadn’t flinched at his appearance.
More afraid of dying to Heavenly Annihilation Division than his sword.
Heavenly Annihilation Division—what kind of organization was it!
Four Thousand Four felt lost.
He’d planned to track them directly... but now, head back instead? People remained at the temple... No. They were just flowing water too. Mere conduits to shake pursuit.
No information from them.
One place left to go. Samcho Village, where Iron Ball Grandpa waited. Regain the trail to Heavenly Annihilation Division there.
“Thanks.”
The vice-magistrate’s low voice pierced his back.
Two ways to move without detection.
One, Fox’s method: stick to uninhabited paths.
The other: blend into crowds.
Sometimes as a merchant, a scholar, a physician.
But not now.
Couldn’t risk crowds—not knowing Heavenly Annihilation Division’s reach.
Had to pick deserted routes, Fox-style.
Even that had risks. Guards in remote areas could spot you instantly.
Blend in, or go Fox-style?
For now, assume everyone in the world worked for them. The vice-magistrate proved it. Who’d believe a man like that just played flowing water?
No telling who else held what role.
Even... those temple monks were probably genuine. Not disguises—real monks recruited and used.
Shh! Shh!
He shot up the mountain path fiercely.
His footwork was crude. No finesse—just brute force propulsion.
He’d never learned proper movement arts.
The steps he knew were only for killing. No training for speed, attack, or evasion—essentials not in his arsenal of death.
Brute force it was.
One change, though... Now he moved silently even at speed.
His robes flapped in the wind.
Feet crushed rock. He splashed across streams, leaping ravines.
He heard it all. And could silence it at will.
His ears had grown keenly sensitive.
Another thing... He’d grown used to the crawl of insects.
Termites swarmed his body. Started with a few hundred in a leather pouch... but their numbers kept growing, somehow.
At first, their skittering was maddening. He’d bathed to shake them off, dunking in stream water.
Now, nothing.
He even enjoyed it. Others might call it perverse, but attuning to their crawl meant vigilance over every inch of skin.
The sensation made him aware of his body.
He paused when winded, charging up mountains.
No rush.
Heavenly Annihilation Division had leverage. The one man in the world they must never let escape... an old man. Didn’t know why he was captive... but they threatened with his life. Backed him into a corner.
Heh heh heh! He’d give his life for the old man.
Even if killed mid-assassination. Even commanded to keep trying till death.
The old man’s life outweighed his own.
Why? Simple. The old man was the only person he knew in this world.
Still, he’d turned his back on that leverage for a reason.
A man more precious than his own life—the old man—had said it.
Nothing mattered more than guiding wretched souls to the afterlife.
That’s why he couldn’t abandon killing.
Guiding lost souls outweighed even dying for the old man.
The old man’s teaching.
‘Back again.’
Four Thousand Four gazed at the village he’d visited before.
Last time, midsummer... Now, snow blanketed the mountains white.
Samcho Village. Here, he’d catch Heavenly Annihilation Division’s tail again.