Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Topsy-Turvy (5)
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Seventy nyang of gold was enough to buy one or two houses even in the pricey capital city. Naturally, it was a fortune most folks could never touch no matter how frugally they lived their lives, but for the wealthy, it wasn't an investment they couldn't afford. This wasn't just any item—it was the Soul Spirit Sword, one of the Ten Great Cavalry Swords of the martial world.
So, in truth, it was a pretty generous offer. Bluntly put, it meant forgoing far greater profits if measured purely in coin.
By doing so, Flying Tiger demonstrated his broad magnanimity(?), showing that while he had claimed the Soul Spirit Sword, he wouldn't let it jeopardize the operation.
Ho Ye-hwa hesitated.
She was tempted, but she didn't have that kind of money on hand.
But... what if...
Flying Tiger nodded as he watched her internal struggle, then spoke.
"Doesn't quite sit right with you, huh?"
"No, it's not that. I just need a moment to think it over."
"Fine. Let me know whenever you're ready. But from now on, this offer applies equally to everyone else here."
"Ah..."
"Oh my, really?"
"Of course, madam. I won't lay a finger on this sword until the operation's done. In other words, the Soul Spirit Sword isn't going anywhere—it's staying right here in this pavilion, waiting for a new owner. So anyone who wants it, just say the word."
"Hohoho, now that's tempting. But what if more than one person wants it? Planning to run an auction or something?"
"No worries. I don't intend to take a single coin more than the stated price. I made this offer to prove my innocence to all of you, not to turn a profit."
"Oh? Then...?"
"There's only one item, so what can I do? I'll hand it to whoever catches my fancy."
"...!"
Ten people, ten colors—each face reacted differently according to their own circumstances, be it their purse strings or their ties to Flying Tiger.
Seen this way, the Soul Spirit Sword truly lived up to its eerie reputation. It stirred hearts like nothing else.
Moreover, one could say Flying Tiger had grown adept at wielding it. With a single seductive blade, he had the so-called experts in a whirl.
The chain of events unfolding in the pavilion on the back mountain of Jeonghae Pavilion on this murky night was fizzling out, leaving only two corpses behind.
But the clouds blanketing the night sky showed no sign of parting—in fact, more were gathering—so the bizarre night was far from over.
And that was exactly what Flying Tiger wanted.
...
"You're going to interrogate Go Dan-o right now?"
"Yeah."
"You're exhausted. Why not rest up tonight and start tomorrow?"
"We let that woman from their group go. They might come charging in tonight for all we know. Better to get on it ASAP. Who knows what useful info we might snag?"
"Hmmm."
"Besides, my interrogation method works best before the subject's completely given up on life."
"Got it. If that's how you want it."
Before heading to interrogate Go Dan-o, Flying Tiger stopped by his lodgings to prepare.
There, he washed up and changed into fresh clothes. Then he peered into the bronze mirror, checking his complexion.
A face he knew all too well—but one he didn't care to see—grinned smugly back at him and spoke.
-Wasn't that satisfying?
-Lucky break.
-Heh heh heh, what's with that? You predicted that idiot would use a curse talisman, so you prepped for it.
-Just in case. Didn't expect him to pull it out right there, though.
-Puhaha! Exactly. Remember how hilarious it was when that fool suddenly started yapping about scanning us with his 'Eye of God'? And how thrilling when it all fell into place? That's what makes life fun, right?
What was that all about?
Flying Tiger had attended the morning meeting convened by Jeung Geum over Go Dan-o's kidnapping.
There, he'd spotted the unexpected Gon Son and sat beside him. Gon Son wouldn't show up for no reason—most likely, it was for him. So he figured he'd watch whatever scheme the man cooked up, even laying out the board for him to play his hand freely.
Gon Son stayed quiet through the whole meeting. But once everyone else left, he furtively gathered strands of Flying Tiger's hair.
Watching from the shadows, Flying Tiger got the gist.
What else would someone collect from a specific person's body—like hair, nails, or clippings—for?
Make a curse talisman, obviously.
How could he let such a shady scene slide?
So before the operation kicked off, Flying Tiger swapped the hair Gon Son had taken with some from the most loathsome guy at Jeonghae Pavilion.
Switching it out from Gon Son, who had lost his martial arts and was less than a commoner, was child's play for Flying Tiger—like a stroll after dinner. In fact, he did it casually after a meal, before visiting Elder Sandong, as a bit of exercise. Getting the material from that repulsive donor was the harder part.
The man in the mirror laughed triumphantly, then addressed Flying Tiger, who found himself chuckling along.
-See? You enjoyed that moment too.
-Can't deny it.
-Exactly. I'm you, and you're me. No matter how much you deny and push me away, remember this: I'm the real you, and the you standing there is an artificial fake you created.
-...
Flying Tiger neither affirmed nor denied it, turning his gaze from the mirror's other self—the one veering toward self-harm, evil, and chaos.
He'd spent his formative years in the worst possible place. Whether this personality stemmed from that environment or if it was his true nature awakened there, he didn't know. But the face in the mirror was undeniably part of him.
Just a side he'd buried after reuniting with Gong Won-yeong. He didn't want her to see it. And now, with her fallen, he'd dragged it out again under the pretext of getting her back.
Most people don human masks to do vile things, but Flying Tiger wore one daily, striving to act humanely.
'So, have I crossed the line... or not yet?'
He pondered it to himself. It didn't matter. A world without Gong Won-yeong was hell anyway.
"Wait out here. Don't come in."
Flying Tiger had arrived at the warehouse where Go Dan-o was held and turned to the warrior from Cho Ejin who had guided him.
"Pardon? But..."
"But what? Want to join him inside?"
He could guess who "him" meant—and who would join whom?
The warrior gulped, mulling over Flying Tiger's impassive face and words that sounded anything but.
Soon, Flying Tiger entered alone, leaving the warrior behind. Some things were better not known.
Clunk.
Go Dan-o groaned, bound tight. Spotting the stranger, he squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his mouth.
Thud.
Flying Tiger approached, dropped his bundle, and examined him closely.
Go Dan-o was covered in bruises, one ankle twisted, all five fingers on his left hand crushed and bent. No limbs seemed severed—at least that was a mercy—but he was a mess. Flying Tiger clicked his tongue, reached out, and Go Dan-o thrashed wildly despite his closed eyes.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Flying Tiger gave three light raps to his head like a knuckle-rap, then tried again. More resistance, more smacks. The skull's toughness meant little pain, but the bobbing head humiliated him—his face flushed. He glared murderously, but Flying Tiger met his eyes calmly and stated a fact.
"Keep resisting, and you'll get hit again. If you don't want to keep greeting me like that, stay still."
Flying Tiger gripped the twisted ankle. This time, Go Dan-o yielded it, biting his lip hard to stifle any cry—no weak screams under torture.
Crack.
Flying Tiger reset it. Sweat beaded on Go Dan-o's brow as a faint groan escaped.
Surprisingly, it hurt... but felt good too.
Flying Tiger had repositioned the ankle. He unpacked his bundle, pulling out tools. First, acupuncture to draw dead blood. Then hot salve, splint, and tight bandages.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Tough spot you're in, but don't use that foot for a while. You'll end up crippled. This is just first aid—get a real doctor if you can."
"What are you doing?!"
Smack. Smack. Smack.
His bellow was ear-splitting. Flying Tiger silenced him with more knuckle-raps, then treated the broken left fingers and everything else.
It took about half a shichen—roughly an hour.
Even with Flying Tiger's swift, precise hands, it was major work.
Finished, he dusted his hands and stood.
"Three months. Rest up that long, and you might wield a sword again."
"...!"
"How's that? Eyes lighting up?"
"Giving poison then medicine?"
"Hm, actually, this is torture. Hope torture."
Go Dan-o shot him a feigned glare of fury. Tough facade, despite the odds.
"Your senior brothers all have good eyes."
"You know the others?"
"Impersonator Sword Jin Ga-yong, and your junior sister Jo Baek-bing."
"You know Senior Brother Jin?"
"Yeah. What's odd about that?"
"And you still do this? No. If you truly knew him, you wouldn't. So you don't know him at all!"
Flying Tiger blinked in confusion at the nonsense, then burst into laughter.
It was blackmail.
How dare you harm me when you know Jin Ga-yong's prowess and the deep bonds of master-disciple ties? Something like that.
So Flying Tiger laughed—not in mockery, but because it felt so damn good.
What a perfect line!
"Fair enough. I don't know Jin Ga-yong well. Maybe I'm crazy. But."
"...?"
"They call him Ghost Mask in the world. What do you think?"
"Bullshit!"
"I thought so too at first. But that Ma Yeop guy—the Taoist from Cheongseong Sect—ring a bell? He visited while you were away from Zhao Manor."
"You know that lunatic? Heard about him. We fed and housed him, and he spouts crap like Senior Brother Jin's a demonic cultist."
"Exactly what I'm saying. He claimed Jin Ga-yong bears traces of demonic arts cultivation. Made me wonder if it's because of the Ghost Mask."
Flying Tiger's eyes gleamed as he asked.
The interrogation had begun.
He'd never planned to wring truth through brute force. He'd said interrogate, not torture. But he had one weakness pinned, so he figured he'd glean some useful tidbits. Conversations often snag on something anyway.