Chapter 113
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Chapter 32. Contact (4)
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Flying Tiger chased off Short Legs and shut the door before slipping out through the window on the opposite side. His movements showed no hesitation or sound, just like some member of the cat family.
Once outside, Flying Tiger crouched at the corner behind the house and perked up his ears.
Tadak.
Someone was rushing over in a hurry. It was a thug with a pair of daggers drawn in his short legs.
While his other comrades drew attention out front, the plan was to sneak in through the back window and smash the back of Flying Tiger's head.
He had no idea Flying Tiger had already slipped outside and was lying in wait.
Short Legs rounded the corner behind the slash-and-burn settler's house, thrusting one dagger forward and pulling the other back.
It was a guard-and-thrust stance ready for an instant counterattack—not specifically to guard against an enemy ambush, but just his usual cautious habit.
But the space behind the house after the turn was empty. So he crouched his already small frame even lower and rose onto his tiptoes.
From here on, he planned to creep up to the window.
But Flying Tiger was watching. He had been waiting, hanging upside down from the eaves of the crudely woven thatch-and-timber roof.
Flying Tiger dropped straight down.
And pounced.
Ppakjik.
A numbing jolt pierced Short Legs from the crown of his head, making him twitch violently, but there was nothing he could do. He instantly lost control of his body, and soon his memory cut off entirely.
Meanwhile, the other thugs were biding their time out front.
A burly man with a jawbeard gripping a chain sickle, a mortar-like giant clutching a steel staff like a fire poker, and a sturdy fellow like a jujube-wood club wielding twin iron halberds in both hands—three in all.
They had counted to ten as agreed with Short Legs.
The jawbeard yanked the chain sickle's chain taut and shot a glance. The halberd guy nodded back, then shouted.
"Hey, Flying Tiger, right? Looks like there was some misunderstanding. How about we talk it out now? You can't hole up in there forever, can you?"
No response came from inside the house.
"Ahem. If you're scared to come out, we'll come in. We'll go slow, so don't swing that blade right away. Let's talk! Got it?"
No sooner had Jujube Club finished speaking than Mortar smashed the door with his steel staff.
Kwajik!
Mortar leaped back, and Jawbeard raised his right hand gripping the base of the sickle. He was ready to hurl the chain sickle the instant Flying Tiger burst out.
Chwaruk!
The thugs were kicking up this racket to draw a reaction from Flying Tiger—or at least pull his attention this way.
And their efforts bore fruit.
An immediate response came. Just not in the way they expected.
Shwoong~
A round object rose from behind the roof, arced over it, and tumbled down in front of them.
Tong. Tong. Degurrr~
It was Short Legs' severed head.
Caught off guard, the thugs froze in shock for a split second.
What the hell was the guy who ran off to backstab doing here? And where the hell was his body?
In that brief moment their eyes were stolen away, Flying Tiger slipped silently into their blind spot.
Like a ghost.
And Flying Tiger began the backstab. The one Short Legs had failed to finish.
Two men hurried along the main road toward Ye Mountain, chatting as they went.
"The Yunseong Seven Wolves have Flying Tiger? Ha, out of all the bastards, why them?"
"Because that Flying Tiger bastard happened to show up on the route they're guarding. What other reason would there be? Something bothering you?"
"Tch! Those guys are infamous for their dogshit tempers. I'm just worried they might fuck things up in a fit of rage."
"Sure, their personalities are shit, but I've heard they handle business sharp as tacks. In times like these, it's not easy to snag mercenaries that good. They've got plenty of bread from rolling in the dirt, so they'll manage. It's only half a day. Don't worry so much."
"Hng."
These two were Ho Ye-hwa and his deputy.
Ho Ye-hwa was feeling all sorts of irritated. They'd already come up empty once, his current mission wasn't helping, and above all, this Flying Tiger character rubbed him the wrong way.
The blabbermouth Ho Ye-hwa.
He was one of the five special-grade cleaners in Choeojin, the elite squad. And just the other day, he had the bitter memory of tangling with Flying Tiger and getting stripped clean.
Back then, Flying Tiger had grilled Ho Ye-hwa just enough before letting him go. He'd used him as a bridge to connect with the higher-ups in Choeojin.
It would be a pain to rough him up over pride, but as a hireling, he'd be useful in all sorts of ways.
That's the impression Flying Tiger had left on Ho Ye-hwa, and the antics he was pulling now were right in line with that.
In the end, Flying Tiger's hunch had been spot on. Choeojin needed plenty of rough mercenaries like him, the kind who wouldn't flinch at dirty work.
And the 'Yunseong Seven Wolves' Ho Ye-hwa mentioned earlier fell squarely into that category.
The Yunseong Seven Wolves.
They were seven top bounty hunters making waves in the southern Shanxi region, bordering Shaanxi to the west.
Each one had surpassed first-rate realm, especially their leader, the Head Wolf Mo Ne-hui, one of Shanxi's top mercenaries.
Lately, the organization had shelled out big to recruit the whole pack.
And for some reason, they'd thrown not just them but a hefty chunk of out-of-province mercenaries they'd gathered into Zhao Family Manor.
In other words, they were plotting something.
Word got out that Flying Tiger was headed to Ye Mountain, so fearing he might throw a wrench in their plans, the organization urgently ordered the deployed mercs to block the passes.
That was early this morning.
"A rogue warrior called Flying Tiger is heading to Ye Mountain. Block the passes in your assigned zones. If he shows, sweet-talk him into one of the organization's safehouses. We'll send a negotiator right away, so ensure no unnecessary noise until then.
(Action Guideline 1) Treat him politely if possible, but if he resists, subdue by force.
(Action Guideline 2) If subduing fails, kill without mercy."
That was how the six Yunseong Wolves, minus Head Wolf Mo Ne-hui, crossed paths with Flying Tiger.
And as Ho Ye-hwa feared, tempers flared between rough types, and shit hit the fan.
But what had the Yunseong Seven Wolves been thinking, messing with Flying Tiger like that?
Dragged out at the crack of dawn for unplanned bullshit, their moods soured fast.
And apparently this Flying Tiger was a fellow merc, but Choeojin seemed to be rolling out the red carpet for him.
That pissed them off.
Then when they actually met him, he seemed compliant and easy pickings.
So they went for it.
If he balked, they could just make a fuss, report it as noncompliance, and call it a day.
That was their thinking, plain and simple.
It was already evening by the time Ho Ye-hwa and his deputy arrived at the slash-and-burn settler's house.
But no one greeted them, and the surroundings were eerily quiet.
-Sir Ho Ye-hwa, the door's smashed. And there are bloodstains everywhere.
The deputy who'd said not to worry was now whispering via transmission, clearly anxious.
Ho Ye-hwa stared at the busted door with a stiff face and just nodded silently. The fool he'd brought along (his deputy) hadn't sensed it yet, but Ho Ye-hwa had picked up on a few more things.
The stench of blood wafted from inside the broken door.
And there was a presence within. A sticky sensation—the faint scent of bloodlust.
All told, his gut screamed bad news.
Ho Ye-hwa pondered his next move while side-eyeing the deputy. The fool still hadn't caught on, gripping his drawn sword and scanning around tensely.
Shove this idiot in first and test the waters?
Ho Ye-hwa smirked to himself and muttered.
"Foolish bastard. Pathetic."
"Pardon?"
The deputy blinked at his superior's cryptic mutter, but Ho Ye-hwa transmitted an order.
-From now on, fall back quietly. If shit goes down inside, run straight to the organization and report.
-Pardon? What do you mean?
-Shut up and scram.
Hudak.
Feeling lighter, Ho Ye-hwa strode boldly into the house.
Kkiiik.
Inside sat Flying Tiger and all six Yunseong Wolves.
Flying Tiger in a chair.
The six Wolves' heads lined up on the table.
Ho Ye-hwa swallowed hard and eyed Flying Tiger. Deep darkness lurked in his pupils.
"You're the one they said was coming to meet me?"
"That's right. Me."
Flying Tiger greeted Ho Ye-hwa with a subtle smile.
"Long time no see."
"Ahem, yeah, been a while. How've you been?"
"Eh. Pretty busy. Been dealing with all sorts of rude trash picking fights nonstop."
Flying Tiger glanced briefly at the table as he finished, and Ho Ye-hwa followed his gaze to the items atop it, deep in thought.
Ho Ye-hwa felt relieved inwardly.
He'd worried the mad bastard might flip out and attack on sight. But his tone suggested he wasn't thrilled, yet quite rational.
And he seemed open to talk.
Come to think of it, this Flying Tiger had some balls.
Trashing the organization like that, then sitting alone in leisure, waiting for him to chat.
'Or maybe only a madman could pull that off?'
Either way, he had to admit the skill—and the ruthless handiwork.
Who were the Yunseong Wolves?
Even Ho Ye-hwa couldn't take a group of them at once, one-on-one maybe.
But Flying Tiger had. Proving his worth.
Ho Ye-hwa nodded to himself.
'In that case... let him clean up his own mess. Just one test left?'
Then Flying Tiger's question snapped Ho Ye-hwa from his thoughts. His voice was soft, but his eyes gleamed like a beast's.
"So, you here to pick a fight with me too?"
"Heavens, no."
Ho Ye-hwa, already half-decided, sat in the chair opposite Flying Tiger at the table, forcing the friendliest expression he could muster. Then he spoke.
"Quite the opposite. I'm here with an offer you'll like. Something about good money."
"Ho~"
Flying Tiger perked up, and Ho Ye-hwa was pleased. Pride in his own eye for talent.
The bastard's temper was shit, but he loved money like a fiend—nothing else mattered before that.
And that would make things smooth sailing.