Chapter 52
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: The Flagship Sinks
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Shiiiing.
Kwaaaang! Kwarung!
Two men. Two explosions.
“…….”
Black Mirror Stronghold Chief Oh Mansang could only stare blankly as his flagship sank.
Just moments ago, the Black Dragon Ship of his deputy chief Gu Deok—who had gone out of contact—had drifted in on the rolling waves.
Up until then, he had wondered what was going on.
But the moment the distance to the Black Dragon Ship narrowed to about thirty feet, two men appeared at its prow.
Were they even twenty years old?
Before he could even grasp the situation, the men leaped across the thirty feet in an instant and boarded the flagship.
One punched straight through the hull, while the other swung his sword and sliced the sails clean off.
Kiiiiing.
The sound of the sails collapsing was like the wail of a ghost.
The plain-faced one went berserk, beating down his subordinates, so Oh Mansang flew into a rage and charged in himself.
Then the pretty boy stepped in front of him with a grin.
He felt no inner energy at all, as if the kid hadn’t even cultivated any—as if he were just some hot-blooded punk.
He dodged the first punch, missed blocking the second...
And his nose bone caved in.
Just for a split second. He’d only lost track of the movement for an instant.
Even though he was brimming with battle spirit and full of confidence, before he could even muster his energy, he took a spinning kick to the face and plunged into the sea.
No energy at all... that’s what he’d clearly sensed.
Then the ship began to shatter.
They smashed it with such ruthless precision...
Water filled the splintered wreck, and it slowly sank. The intruders, having finished their work, leisurely boarded Gu Deok’s Black Dragon Ship and sailed off.
It had taken about two kebeks.
In that brief time, the Black Mirror Stronghold’s flagship had sunk, and most of his men floated unconscious in the water.
Was he supposed to believe this?
Oh Mansang had seen it with his own eyes and taken the hits himself, yet he couldn’t accept this reality.
The Black Mirror Stronghold was one of the water gangs that had dominated the Yangtze for years.
They might fall short of the Nine Great Sects or Five Great Families’ martial forces on land, but on water, they prided themselves as equals.
Yet two mere youths—barely out of boyhood—had turned their flagship into a pile of kindling.
Even if Gu Deok had taken half their forces with him, it made no sense.
As if they were Sword Kings or something...
And what the hell was that?
As the young men returned to their ship, someone unfurled the sails.
It was distant, but far too familiar to mistake.
“...Gu Deok?”
No, the deputy chief was the one unfurling the sails and manning the oars? Even after getting beaten by those kids?
You worthless maggot worse than scum! Why the hell are you sailing their ship for them?
Whoosh!
It happened then.
A sudden gust swelled the sails taut, and the flat-bottomed Black Dragon Ship began gliding leisurely southwest.
“Hah...”
Oh Mansang’s face crumpled like a wad of scrap paper, matching his name perfectly, after the fight ended without him lifting a finger.
“D-Deputy Chief, are you alright?”
“......”
Yi Muncheon, another deputy chief who had been with Gu Deok, swam over.
Alright? With the flagship—our symbol—sinking to the riverbed?
“Muncheon.”
“Yes?”
“Got any dry signal flares?”
“...?”
“The red ones.”
“The red flares?”
“You wanna fire white ones at a time like this?”
“But if the Water Dragon King finds out we took an independent contract...”
“With our stronghold’s pride in the gutter, you worried about a scolding from the grand chief? If you have ‘em, shut up and fire.”
“......”
Under the deputy chief’s glare, Yi Muncheon quickly pulled something wrapped in oiled paper from his bosom.
It was the explosive signal flare used by Yangtze water gangs in emergencies.
Yellow, blue, white, red.
Among the flares with different uses, the top-tier red one signaled a major enemy across the entire Yangtze waterway.
When red went up, every outpost fired theirs, spreading the alert across the river. Ships on standby converged on the origin point to pursue the foe.
The no-entry zones forbidding water gang approaches? Screw that.
Unless the Righteous Alliance wanted war, they couldn’t block the water gangs’ ships pursuing enemies upriver.
Because he got involved when red fired.
Every water bandit bowed before him, and even orthodox warriors feared him—the Water Dragon King Gu Ja-jin...
* * *
“A red flare has gone up on the Yangtze.”
“W-what?!”
Late at night.
Righteous Alliance Grand Strategist Zhuge Suban had just finished grueling duties and was savoring the aroma of Tieguanyin before bed when he bolted up at the urgent messenger’s words.
“One kebek ago, red flares shot up across the entire Yangtze, and water gangs are massing below, demanding we open the western waterway gate.”
“......”
A red flare on the Yangtze out of nowhere?
Red meant crisis on the river or a major enemy—nothing less.
Zhuge Suban’s eyes turned icy.
“What’s the reason?”
“We don’t know yet...”
“You idiots! It’s been a kebek—how haven’t you figured out what triggered the red or who they’re chasing?!”
“Sorry, sir. Things were too chaotic...”
“Hm.”
Furious at the inexcusably slow response, Zhuge Suban calmed himself and pieced the situation together.
First, the water gangs were chasing someone.
Red flare meant it was a big fish.
Whatever sparked it, they had to secure the pursued party.
The enemy of my enemy is a friend—and it might be someone crucial to them.
Must secure... but how?
“Relay emergency orders to the Soaring Dragon Brigade leader: Move to the western Yangtze mouth near Wuhu immediately and prepare to counter their show of force! No matter how critical their issue, we can’t yield the Alliance’s Wuhu waterways to water gangs!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Where’d the red flare originate?”
“Reports say the waterway from Anhui toward Hubei.”
“...Anhui? Black Mirror Stronghold?”
“Yes. Just a guess for now.”
No guess—it was fact.
Among Anhui’s water gangs, only one of the eighteen strongholds could fire red: them.
With Soaring Dragon Brigade blocking the western waterway to Wuhu, the only threats to the pursued would be Black Mirror and minor gangs in between...
Suddenly, Zhuge Suban’s eyes widened, and he bellowed.
“The Water Dragon King! His location?”
“Intel says near Ezhou County.”
“Ezhou?”
“Yes.”
“Wasn’t he at Mount Xingmen until half a month ago?”
“He vanished from there suddenly, went dark... But yesterday, reports of a man matching his description surfaced at Ezhou docks.”
“What?! Why report this now?!”
“Sorry. Could’ve been a lookalike, so we were verifying...”
“Y-you fools!”
Zhuge Suban bit his lip lightly at his subordinate’s meek voice.
Ezhou was a small county inside Hubei, just a few hundred li from Wuhu.
Intel wasn’t confirmed, but if he was really near Ezhou?
Zhuge Suban’s mind raced at full speed.
If... if it was the Water Dragon King at Ezhou, and he saw the red flare?
Bad feeling.
A full kebek since red fired. Had to act fast.
“Who’s the highest Beggars’ Sect member in the Alliance now?”
“Uh, well... Little Beggar Dragon’s here for the new Dragon Dormitory entrance exams.”
At “Little Beggar Dragon,” Zhuge Suban’s face lit up.
“Ah, right! He’s here.”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. As the youngest disciple, he’s Six Dragon status—full emergency command over Hubei Beggars’ Sect! Tell him now: brief the situation, deploy intel network immediately. Also, issue Alliance emergency alert and dispatch Soaring Dragon Brigade to the scene!”
“Emergency alert?!”
“By the Grand Strategist’s authority. Grasp the situation fast, secure the pursued if any. But absolutely avoid clashing with the Water Dragon King!”
“Yes, sir!”
The messenger dashed out, robes flapping, after Zhuge Suban’s rapid orders.
Watching him go, Zhuge Suban muttered to himself.
“Whew, gotta report to the Alliance Leader ASAP. If it’s really him, we’ll need his power...”
* * *
“What? Who?”
“The Grand Strategist’s messenger.”
“Grand Strategist?”
In a dingy riverside tavern corner in Wuhu.
Annoyed at the interruption of his rare free time?
The beggar, munching snacks amid empty liquor bottles on the table, scowled at the neatly robed warrior’s arrival.
Dressed in patched white mourning robes, pockmarked face—a man named Gye Dusin, the Beggars’ Sect Little Beggar Dragon.
At sixteen, he caught the Sect Leader’s eye as youngest disciple, shone early in martial arts, and claimed a Seven Dragon seat—the Sect’s pride. Scratching his belly under his robes, he asked:
“What the hell does he want, sending for me this late?”
“We don’t know details. Red flare on the Yangtze—Grand Strategist orders you to scout up the northern Wuhu waterway immediately. Alliance is under emergency alert.”
“...Red flare?”
Gye Dusin, listening with irritation and disbelief, snapped to attention in shock.
Who didn’t know Yangtze red flares?
With emergency alert on top, it was critical.
“Damn, even waking me from sleep has limits—what the...”
Sighing as he grasped it, he shook his head.
Then, pointlessly straightening his robes, he urgently shook the scholar in student robes slumped face-down across the table.
“Hey! Hey!”
“...Fucking hell!”
“Fucking hell? You little shit!”
Gye Dusin squinted one eye at the drunk scholar flailing his hand away.
“Phew, booze stench. Bad for you—why chug like this? Hey! Get up!”
“Fuck off! Annoying as shit! What?!”
The disheveled scholar hauled himself up, cursing irritably.
“A scholar, my ass—mouth full of filth.”
Gye Dusin shook his head, muttering.
“Gonna be gone long.”
“Who?”
“Your high-and-mighty uncle.”
“So?”
“So? You brat! You’re heading to Shaanxi tomorrow as strategist for the war with the unorthodox?”
“Yeah.”
“Can’t see you for a while then?”
“Yup.”
“......”
Gye Dusin’s eye twitched at the scholar’s nonchalance.
He’d bought booze—even though he usually scorned it—just to send off his friend heading to Shaanxi’s front lines properly.
Now, with sudden orders, no goodbye send-off, so he woke him...
Some friend.
“You punk! Goodbyes exist for a reason!”
“We’ll cross paths. Don’t be annoying. Damn, booze rising again. Urk!”
“......”
The scholar stood, hand over mouth, staggering off to puke.
“Fucking scholar prick. Always like this at the end—why drink at all?”
“Urk, go, go. See ya... urk!”
“......”
Gye Dusin shook his head as the scholar waved haphazardly and vanished out the door.
“Always leaves me hanging. Not a shred of sentiment.”
But no time to dawdle.
Not a request—the Grand Strategist’s direct order via messenger.
Under emergency alert, no delay for a Righteous Alliance member.
“You—Grand Strategist’s messenger?”
“Y-yes.”
“Take this knot now, find the beggar band at Jiudun Wharf, and scour every inch of northern Wuhu waterway.”
“......”
The messenger nodded, taking the Six Dragon knot from Gye Dusin’s waist.
Jiudun was a lakeside spot inside Wuhu city.
Anyone in the Alliance knew that’s where the Beggars’ Sect Wuhu branch was.
“Got it. How to contact Little Beggar Dragon?”
“They’ll handle it. See ya.”
“Ah, yes...”
By the time the warrior lifted his bowed head, Gye Dusin was gone.
“Damn! They say he’s tops in lightness skill even among Beggars’ Sect disciples...”
As the lone messenger gaped,
“Phew, stomach’s settling.”
“......”
The puke-returned scholar rubbed his mouth, re-entering.
“Huh? He’s gone already?”
“......”
The messenger stared at the peering scholar youth, shaking his head.
Scholar and beggar.
Odd friends, but common in the jianghu.
Beggars’ Sect gathered intel; scholars plotted strategies—like needle and thread.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you supposed to scram?”
“Ah! Yes!”
The dazed messenger bolted out.
“People these days... Anyway, trouble on the Yangtze?”
The sobering scholar tilted his head, then frowned.
“Tch, too bad. If not for Shaanxi, I’d tag along. Emergency alert and red flare... Hm, Water Dragon King might get involved. Hope that over-righteous beggar doesn’t get hurt...”
The scholar gazed worriedly out the open window in Gye Dusin’s direction.