Chapter 105
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: 31. Nest (2)
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Na-mok called the man in his late thirties "Senior Brother."
In truth, they were both from Dance Melody Manor and of the same generation, having exchanged only a few greetings whenever their paths crossed.
Still, it was natural to feel a sense of closeness upon encountering someone from one's homeland in a distant land—especially for Na-mok, who was in a sullen mood at the time.
Overjoyed, Na-mok chattered away about the recent operation he had just returned from.
"Is that so? I can't believe Elder Wang has passed. He was not just a guiding star for our Dance Melody Manor but for all the orthodox sects of Shaanxi... It's truly unbelievable. Ha~ Were those White Horse Lantern brigands really that formidable?"
"That's right, Senior Brother. The White Horse Lantern were horrifyingly strong. A guy like me wouldn't have lasted even a single exchange—I'd have been dead. And even Elder Wang was constantly on the back foot against that fiend. If he hadn't pulled off mutual destruction with his ultimate technique at the very end..."
"Wait, ultimate technique?"
The man’s eyes gleamed as he asked. This was finally the part he wanted to hear.
Na-mok proceeded to recount the events, even mentioning the "Explosive Annihilation Skill" he had heard about from Flying Tiger.
But the man, listening silently, scoffed inwardly.
That wasn't some "Explosive Annihilation Skill"—it had to be "that thing" the organization had given to the old Wang fellow.
'Still, did this fool really see it right? It doesn't quite match what I heard... Then again, it might have another function I don't know about. Anyway, that's how it is, huh?'
The orders from above had been twofold, and he had already achieved one of them.
It was to confirm whether Wang Baek-gun had used "that thing" during his duel with the White Horse Lantern—and if so, to pry out the details and report back.
With that done, the man now broached the remaining directive.
"By the way, Junior Brother."
"Yes?"
"Elder Wang held you in particularly high regard, didn't he?"
"Well... Rather than that, he was just the type to look after everyone around him. I was the one who followed him out of respect."
"No, that's not it. You might not have noticed as the person involved, but everyone else knew. They were all so envious... He was fair and impartial, so he wouldn't show outright favoritism, but you know that feeling you get at a glance? That's why he specifically chose you to attend him."
"R-Really?"
"Tsk tsk, you're so oblivious."
Na-mok's nose tingled for no reason.
In fact, the man wasn't entirely lying. The process differed, but Wang Baek-gun had indeed kept Na-mok close and imparted various lessons.
With the groundwork laid, the man moved into his real ploy.
"So, let me ask: did Elder ever mention his affiliation to you?"
"Pardon? Wasn't he a protector in the Face Pursuit Squad?"
"Shh!"
The man glanced around furtively before lowering his voice.
"This is a secret, but since we're not outsiders and he always favored you, I'm trusting you with this. It stays between us, got it?"
"Yes."
"He was worried about the state of the Martial Qin Alliance these days. How much blood was shed by true heroes to achieve this unity? And look at those opportunists strutting around now—the ones who hung back when it was time to fight. What nerve... Sigh, my blood pressure's rising just thinking about it. Anyway, you know what I mean, right?"
Na-mok had no idea, of course.
Not even Wang Baek-gun himself would have known, so how could Na-mok?
But he couldn't admit ignorance and planned to ask around later, so he glossed over it.
"Uh, so?"
"That's why he joined a gathering of patriots to restore discipline to the corrupt alliance."
"A gathering of patriots?"
At Na-mok's skeptical tone, the man flicked his serpent-like tongue.
"Hm, are you pretending not to know? No need to be wary of me."
"No, I really didn't know."
"For real?"
"Yes."
"It's the Qin Loyalists. A group united by the greater cause, transcending origins and status."
Na-mok stared at the man in bewilderment. It sounded like he was introducing a secret faction within the Martial Qin Alliance—one that reeked of danger...
But had Wang Baek-gun really joined something like that?
Before heading to his new lodgings, Flying Tiger obtained Aryuk's permission and stopped at an inn with bathing facilities to wash himself clean. He also paid extra to have fresh clothes brought, which he changed into.
It was all to meet Gong Won-yeong looking presentable. Bloodstained inside and out, he couldn't be fully cleansed, but he wanted to look as good as possible.
That was Flying Tiger's sentiment.
Whether that refreshed appearance would reach Gong Won-yeong or not, it had at least worked on one person. Aryuk exclaimed in surprise.
"My, Flying Tiger Warrior was quite the looker all along. You clean up nicely. You don't usually go around like this?"
"My line of work is butchery, so it doesn't suit me. Even now... well, I'm making an effort to look good for at least one person."
"......"
Aryuk stared blankly at Flying Tiger, cleared his throat with a cough, then said, "Shall we go now?" and took the lead.
As they walked, it dawned on him anew: the dying woman under Western Hall's care was Flying Tiger's reverse scale, and that explained why his cynical master, Hidden Moon, trusted him. As long as he protected her, betrayal was unlikely.
About half a shichen later.
The neighborhood they arrived at was behind the market district catering to the wealthy, a densely packed residential area. The houses weren't grand individually, but each was well-appointed, and the alleys were impeccably clean.
According to Aryuk, it housed merchants, illegitimate sons of noble houses, retired courtesans, and various other well-off folk. He added that the state-managed market ensured excellent security.
And the new nest Flying Tiger laid eyes on—one shared with Gong Won-yeong—was quite unique.
The new residence was a modest courtyard house built in the traditional siheyuan style.
Oddly, there was no direct exit to the alley. The east, west, south, and north were all blocked by neighboring houses. It was an independent home with its own garden, yet invisible on any map.
To enter, one first had to go into one of the four adjacent houses, then scale the high opposite wall or use a secret passage. Naturally, all four were secretly managed by Western Hall, with no visible connections between them.
This setup deterred intruders at the first line and ensured that even if someone surveilled Flying Tiger's house, they couldn't infer anything from incoming goods or personnel. Physicians, maids, or those meeting Flying Tiger covertly would come and go through different houses.
It was a cozy space shielded from the outside world.
The central courtyard served as a private training ground. Gong Won-yeong resided in the main hall to the front. Opposite, beyond a low wall, was the east wing for attendants. The south wing was fitted as Flying Tiger's study, and the west wing stocked with herbs and medical tools like an apothecary.
Anyone could see Western Hall had gone all out.
"Normally, this place is kept vacant and maintained, only offered to the hall's most vital guests on rare occasions—a handful of times a year. See how highly Hidden Moon values you? So...!"
Flying Tiger glanced around and headed straight for the main hall door, entering without delay. Aryuk followed, emphasizing Western Hall's care, but halted at the threshold, words dying with his footsteps.
Flying Tiger's desperate figure approaching the woman on the bed made it clear no words would reach him now.
Aryuk quietly summoned the maid attending Gong Won-yeong (who had retreated to a corner upon his arrival) and instructed her not to return until requested, then to rest outside. After sending her out and softly closing the door, he said,
"Flying Tiger Warrior, I'll visit again tomorrow. You've been through a lot, so rest well tonight."
"Thank you for your consideration, Aryuk."
Flying Tiger's voice came from beyond the closing door.
Leaving the lovers' new nest, Aryuk let out an involuntary sigh.
Love, huh.
Seeing it after so long stirred him. The deep, urgent longing felt almost heartbreaking.
Perhaps because he sensed this might be their final nest.
"I'm back. It was a long one this time, right? Too much to tell... but in short, I wasted some time wandering, that's all."
Flying Tiger spoke cheerfully enough, but his eyes deepened as they met Gong Won-yeong's.
It had been a month.
After the second operation with the righteous faction, having barely survived, he had stayed at Ye Mountain's Zhao Family Manor for treatment and couldn't come right away.
Then, at Mayeop's introduction, he had rushed off with him to Goseok Manor in Hanzhong, southwest Shaanxi, to find someone who might know Golden Jade Fairy's whereabouts—putting everything else aside. But he never met them; instead, he wasted time shaking off Qin Loyalist pursuers on the road. Meanwhile, Mayeop, who went ahead, got caught in Ghost Face's slaughter and died with the others at Goseok Manor.
That delayed his reunion with Gong Won-yeong yet again, and afterward, he still couldn't visit.
By then, the Qin Loyalists were hunting him fiercely; he feared exposing her location to them.
So Flying Tiger had contacted Western Hall from outside, clashed with the Qin Loyalists, and holed up at Face Pursuit Squad headquarters.
He then joined the righteous faction's third operation and, mission complete, finally returned.
After such a long, circuitous journey.
'Is it time to brace myself at last?'
Gazing at Gong Won-yeong's gaunt, withered face and frail body, Flying Tiger truly felt the moment of parting approaching, and it pained him.
He gently took her hand, caressing it as delicately as if holding cracked porcelain, lest it shatter under too much pressure. In a low voice, he pleaded,
"I'm sorry. But I'm not ready yet. So hold on just a little longer. I know it's hard... please."
Flying Tiger stroked her hand endlessly, slowly, until the sun set from midday. At some point, he collapsed beside her and fell asleep.
He never let go of her hand.
From her cold fingers, he felt a faint trickle of warmth, and that warmth brought him immense solace.
Just like that day when the seven-year-old boy first grasped the hand extended by the eleven-year-old girl.