Chapter 129
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: 37. Kidnapping (2)
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The woman shuddered violently, recalling the 'killing intent' she had encountered for the first time, deeming it utterly horrifying.
In truth, this was a perfectly natural reaction. Though the man had long since grown numb to that dreadful sensation, everyone has their first time, after all.
Even so obvious a response struck the man she faced as remarkably fresh. Perhaps it even seemed endearing.
Anyway.
At the time, the man had offered her this advice.
"I'm not saying you have to get used to it. But you must remember: if someone gives you that feeling, it's a signal they mean to kill you."
And this advice as well.
"Keep this in mind. The place you live is smack in the middle of the martial world."
For all that valuable counsel from the man, when it came time to part, the woman had instead tacked on an unreasonable request of her own.
"Since things have come to this, grant me one more favor."
"Huh?"
"Flying Tiger warrior, please take good care of my second senior brother."
'Jo Baek-bing... Soon, vicious malice will sweep through Zhao Family Manor. Do you remember my advice?'
Flying Tiger soon flashed a dark smile.
What right did he have to encourage her, when he himself was about to contribute to that malice? He was currently conspiring to kidnap her third senior brother, and had his blade pointed squarely at the second senior brother she'd so specially asked him to look after.
Thus, it was a sneer aimed at his own hypocritical behavior.
Just then, Ho Ye-hwa's voice broke his reverie.
"Hey, you seem lost in some pleasant thoughts. Care to share?"
"......?"
Flying Tiger glanced over, and Ho Ye-hwa offered an awkward smile, looking slightly tense.
"Ahem! You just looked so pleased with yourself, I got curious what had you in such high spirits."
"High spirits? Me?"
As Flying Tiger looked around in askance, everyone fell silent, watching him intently.
The atmosphere was peculiar.
Gon Son, catching his eye, startled and averted his gaze. Sama Gulgi gave an embarrassed grin. Bong Yeonja, meanwhile, observed him appraisingly, and Ilgwang, displeased by that, offered clarification.
"You were just grinning like a madman, veins bulging in your eyes. Hmph, little devil indeed... The stench of blood must thrill you just thinking about it. Ugh, creepy. Isn't that right, Lady Bong?"
"What nonsense. Let's get on with the meeting."
Flying Tiger spoke with a hardened expression, inwardly chastising himself. To unwittingly leak killing intent like that... 'Guess I really took a liking to that Zhao Family Manor I have no business with.'
The paused meeting resumed.
"Flying Tiger, Ilgwang, and Sama Gulgi—you three take point on this."
The named trio exchanged fierce glances before nodding. Thoughts of the imminent fight ignited their battle lust.
"Lady Bong and I will cover the rear, in case of any contingencies."
Lady Bong Yeonja smiled seductively.
She, expert in poisons and hidden weapons, and Jeunggum, a battle commander skilled in lightness skill, were ideal for sweeping away uncertainties from behind.
The lineup was nothing fancy—just solid fundamentals, and thus reliable.
"Ho Ye-hwa and Monk Gon Son, stay here with the Sandong Old Man, even if it's boring. We'll be back quick. The real action starts then, so don't let your guards down."
Jeunggum scanned the group, checking for objections.
It was time to earn their keep. And it was only sensible. No one present had any.
Jeunggum finally shared the code words.
'Jonghwa' and 'Hohyeol'.
Jonghwa Hohyeol—Setting Fire to the Tiger's Den.
Mortals had a habit of infusing even trivial things with meaning in their naming. Someone's grand scheme lay behind this.
But at this juncture, who besides the parties involved would notice a tiny spark tossed into a dense forest?
It would only become clear once everything had burned away.
Jeunggum added to the code words: Ye Mountain was crawling with spies from the Superficial Faction mixed in. So if they bumped into anyone suspicious, verify with the code before drawing steel—to prevent friendly fire.
"Got it. So when do we head out?"
"The messenger at dawn said those two leave in the afternoon, so eat a hearty lunch and wait. Word will come the moment they depart."
With that, the meeting adjourned, and everyone dispersed.
As they filed out en masse, no one so much as glanced at Monk Gon Son—treating him as if he weren't there. With the operation imminent, even the usual teasing was absent.
Thus, the last to remain, Monk Gon Son rose with a shadowed face, glancing around furtively. With quick handiwork, he scooped up a few strands of hair that had fallen where Flying Tiger sat and tucked them into his bosom.
What was he up to?
Gon Son still had one trump card left: a curse talisman to drag his foe into the pits of hell. To activate it required a piece of the target's body. Revenge against the one who had ruined him was in order, no?
Ahem.
Monk Gon Son cleared his throat once, then limped out of the Shangqing Palace.
'Pathetic bore. That one's rotten too—maybe I should check his liver?'
The onlooker, hidden and watching the scene, muttered coldly.
"Shouldn't we be heading out soon?"
"We'll go when word comes. Still, we've got about half a shichen of leeway, right?"
"So... you're using that time to check out this old man's martial arts?"
"Check it out? What am I, an expert? You, with all your skills, should watch closely with those sharp eyes."
Flying Tiger recoiled, spouting excuses at length.
"We put it off yesterday, and who knows how things'll turn out after this op? Better do it now. Now! We ate well at lunch anyway—time to work it off."
Flying Tiger had visited the Sandong Old Man's quarters after an early lunch.
When he asked if the old man had eaten, the reply was a late breakfast. Perfect, then. How about that Crushing Battle training we skipped yesterday?
Yet the Sandong Old Man, whom he'd expected to jump at the chance, seemed lukewarm.
'Nah, no way. He's not holding back out of concern for me.'
Dismissing the fleeting thought, Flying Tiger spoke generously.
"What, regretting the elixir you promised me? Ah, forget it. You slacked yesterday anyway—today's free. Deal?"
"Hah, cheeky brat. Fine. Let's head out."
They walked to the training ground, chatting idly.
The Sandong Old Man embodied the rough, unpolished warrior archetype—coarse speech, vulgar to boot. But straightforward and unhesitant, conversing with him was refreshingly direct. Like a warrior's sword taking after its master.
Flying Tiger appreciated that.
Shring.
Arriving at the training ground, Flying Tiger drew his Overcharge Sword first under the old man's gaze, slashing the air to warm up. Once heated, he sheathed it.
Then he picked up the sword he'd wrecked yesterday.
"Ready."
Facing the Sandong Old Man, Flying Tiger's eyes gleamed coolly.
But unexpected words came.
"Put that away and draw the other one again."
"Pardon?"
"The one you flailed around pathetically in front of me."
"...Why? This one's really precious."
"Heh heh heh, that precious? Then stick out your fool head instead? Want me to smash it?"
"Kuhuk."
......
Clang-clang-clang-clang—
The two blades hammered at each other ferociously, locked in a brutal melee.
Thankfully, the Sandong Old Man had no intent to shatter the Overcharge Sword. Otherwise, how could Flying Tiger and his blade have barely endured those brutish strikes?
The savage clash ended after about ten breaths.
For some, it was mere sweaty exercise. For another, total exhaustion, the sky turning yellow.
Flying Tiger slumped, panting heavily, when a vial dropped at his feet.
"Good work. Drink that and recover. And... come back safe."
"Eh? Worried about me?"
"Hmph, just don't want my investment going poof. Haven't even seen your Crushing Battle yet, have I?"
The Sandong Old Man grumbled and departed. Left behind, Flying Tiger scratched his head at the vial.
This was awkward.
To Flying Tiger, events were accelerating. Everything might wrap up by tonight. And both sides standing at the end seemed unlikely...
That was why.
Even if it strained him, Flying Tiger had wanted to return the favor to the Sandong Old Man at least once. A shallow wish to lighten his mental burden.
But anyone could see the old man had looked after the departing warrior. Beyond loosening him up, he'd sharpened his senses with apt tension—and thrown in an elixir to restore his qi to boot.
So he'd gone to shed a load, only to pick up another.
"Old man, warmth in a world crawling with our kind? As if."
This soliloquy was bittersweet.
It was nearing the end of the shenshi hour.
Flying Tiger and the four other warriors left Jeonghaegwan.
Their destination: a valley at the foot of Geumsan Mountain, Ye Mountain's western pass. More precisely, the Sand Arc Bridge at the second bend up the valley path.
Geumsan wasn't tall but deep and treacherous, so travelers stuck to this well-paved route—no detours needed. A key chokepoint.
While Zhao Family Manor's influence held, their eyes and ears reached here. Now, it was just a secluded spot for their people to meet privately.
The sun set early in the mountains.
Shadows were lengthening.
Two groups met at the Sand Arc Bridge, three on each side.
On one end stood Sama Gulgi at the fore, with Flying Tiger and Ilgwang.
Across the bridge, from the Geumsan descent, a middle-aged man halted with a young man and woman—also three.
The middle-aged man strained his features, coming off greasy. Likely Merchant Yang Ji of Sangmu-gak.
The young man was tall and handsome—probably Go Dan-o, Ye Mountain Sword, third junior brother of Jin Ga-yong.
Expected so far.
Then the unexpected: the young woman, primly dressed with a sword at her waist.
Her identity was...