Chapter 146
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: Chapter 40. Blade Mountain Sword Forest (5)
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The Shandong Old Man seemed to have gotten a sense of things to some extent.
But it didn't matter.
From what Flying Tiger had observed so far, the old man's sole pleasure in life was testing his blade against a worthy opponent. Having laid eyes on Jin Ga-yong, what came next was all too predictable.
There was no stopping it now, even if he tried.
Everyone took their positions, and the confrontation rushed toward its climax.
"Then I suppose it's time for me to do my part. Brother, I'll be right back. Hang tight."
Flying Tiger muttered it like an aside, giving the acupoint-sealed Go Dan-o's shoulder a light pat.
With that, he took his first step. His second foot suddenly shot sideways. Pivoting on it, he spun his body in a gleeful whirl.
The guest he'd been waiting for was quietly closing in.
A jolt.
It was Maeng Dal-seo of the Lowly Demon Horns.
The tracking master, they called him. He'd been perched on the warehouse roof the whole time, biding his moment. Now, with the strangely imposing old man departing first and Flying Tiger left alone, heading toward A Jeok-gang, Maeng saw his chance. He'd crept up for a strike to the back of the head.
Damn it all.
By the time Maeng Dal-seo's face twisted in frustration, Flying Tiger's left hand was already in motion. The rope dart coiled around his wrist shot toward him.
Whoosh.
Maeng Dal-seo's reaction was sharp.
The moment the rope dart flashed, he shoved off the ground with his left foot, vanishing to the right in four bounds—like teleporting itself.
His right hand gripped a short sword in reverse, body hunched low in a defensive stance.
...?
But Maeng Dal-seo's eyes filled with disbelief, even though he'd reacted with lightning speed.
He'd read the incoming rope dart's trajectory with his evasion technique and dodged accordingly.
Or so he thought.
Yet the rope dart was flying toward his new position—low to the ground, no less!
How?
The moment Maeng Dal-seo tried to evade, Flying Tiger yanked back the rope dart's line he'd just thrown—a feint to deceive the eye.
Of course, if the fool hadn't even thought to dodge, he'd have let it fly true.
In any case, Flying Tiger nudged the retrieved line with his left foot.
The rope dart's blade end whipped around in a full circle.
With his foot, he redirected its attack path, then released it.
Retrieve. Redirect. Re-attack.
That was the sequence.
Maeng Dal-seo had been caught off guard from the start, forcing him to react a beat late in a scramble.
Treating the rope dart as a standard thrown weapon, he'd misjudged the assault on false premises.
And all this unfolded in an instant.
Maeng Dal-seo's mind reeled in chaos.
Looking back, it was all perfectly explainable—but he had no time for that. Flying Tiger's rope dart was bearing down, and he had to douse the flames first.
Moreover, fresh off his evasion, twisting away again wasn't easy.
Desperate, Maeng Dal-seo spun, shielding his lower body with the short sword in hand. Pure reflex this time, no prediction.
But the rope dart played its trick again, infuriatingly.
Splash~
Flying Tiger flicked his wrist, and the line rippled. The blade at its end arced upward in a curve, slamming into Maeng Dal-seo's shoulder.
Thud.
Flying Tiger yanked the line, dragging Maeng Dal-seo stumbling off-balance for a couple steps.
By the time Maeng Dal-seo grabbed the embedded rope dart with his left hand to steady his feet, Flying Tiger was already airborne, greeting him.
"This is insane."
Maeng Dal-seo looked up with a gloomy mutter. No sooner had the words left his mouth than his head snapped around, smashing into the dirt.
Crack. Crash!
Flying Tiger followed with a flying kick, rolling Maeng Dal-seo, then chased and stomped down hard. Maeng twitched a few times before going limp.
Flying Tiger dragged the body over and dumped it beside Go Dan-o. Their eyes met.
"Brother, got a friend for you. Keep an eye on him."
"......"
Go Dan-o glared daggers, but Flying Tiger shrugged it off. With a satisfied look, he turned and headed for A Jeok-gang.
Flying Tiger's sortie began.
"Well done. Withdraw."
At the Shandong Old Man's words, Bong Yeon-ja—bloodied and dazed—simply nodded, slumping where she sat. Her legs gave out, leaving her staring blankly at the two men, the old man and Jin Ga-yong, in turn.
Revulsion boiled up unbidden.
'You inhuman bastards, roast each other and die together for all I care.'
Bong Yeon-ja ground her teeth, cursing them inwardly.
She'd barely survived Jin Ga-yong, so hating him was natural.
But why lump in the Shandong Old Man?
He'd strutted about like some supreme master, dawdling forever before finally stepping up.
In truth, the old man's behavior was par for the course. Her twisted resentment just painted it that way.
Perhaps meeting these so-called transcendent experts had cowed her, stirring a messy brew of unease and fury.
But what did it change?
Bong Yeon-ja shook herself off and hauled up Ho Ye-hwa, who lay coughing nearby. She limped along.
Ho Ye-hwa's two sword-for-hire guards had fled long ago. His condition was dire.
Where to go?
Naturally, her steps turned toward where they'd taken Go Dan-o captive. She was in no shape to flee either, so if worst came to worst, she'd grab a hostage and bargain.
But even that short distance proved tough. Her own body wrecked, supporting a full-grown man was brutal. She itched to shove Ho Ye-hwa away but held back, grumbling instead.
Why? He'd saved her life—twice over.
That's why Jin Ga-yong had overlooked her until now, despite needing to deal with her first. Ho Ye-hwa, meanwhile, was half-dead.
As Bong Yeon-ja struggled onward, Ho Ye-hwa hacked up a storm. The moment he regained his wits, he croaked in a dying rasp.
"...did to it?"
"What? You mean the two swords? One snapped, the other..."
"Cough, cough. No, that's not—why'd you do it?"
"Do what? You saved my life, so naturally I..."
Bong Yeon-ja flushed faintly mid-sentence. A sudden thought: Does this creep actually pine for me? Even now, her romantic sparks flickered amid the carnage.
Love blooming in wartime, they said. She fit the bill, having cheated death.
But the creep ruined the mood with an offbeat question.
"Milady, that's not what I meant. Why'd you laugh like a madwoman when you ambushed Jin Ga-yong alone earlier? It's been gnawing at me the whole fight. What were you thinking?"
"Mad... woman?"
Words to make her eyes blaze.
Meanwhile, with Bong Yeon-ja and Ho Ye-hwa gone, only the Shandong Old Man and Jin Ga-yong remained.
The old man eyed the sword in Jin Ga-yong's hand.
It was the Spirit Sword.
From Flying Tiger's grasp to Ho Ye-hwa's, then from him to Jin Ga-yong.
One might wonder if Flying Tiger had handed it to Ho Ye-hwa all along just to deliver it to Jin Ga-yong.
Perhaps.
Jin Ga-yong spoke to the old man.
"Does the sword bother you?"
"Heh heh, what nonsense. I'd care about the man wielding it, maybe. But since we're at it, one question: Is Flying Tiger one of your own?"
"I hope so. I don't want to cut him down myself."
"...!"
Jin Ga-yong's answer was ambiguous.
The Shandong Old Man savored it a moment, then chuckled 'keh keh'.
Didn't that echo his own feelings exactly?
Were he and this man both toys in Flying Tiger's game?
Overthinking, perhaps—but who could say?
The old man let out a wry laugh. 'Truly a goblin of a man, impossible to pin down.' He gathered his thoughts.
A strangely likable fellow, but once the blade fell, this unease would fade.
As always.
"My turn for a question. To my knowledge, Zhao Family Manor never crossed paths with a master like you. Why ally with villains like us?"
"You mean Cho Eo-jin?"
"Precisely."
"No grudge against Zhao Family Manor. No obligation to Cho Eo-jin either. Just taking the employer's coin and earning my keep."
Jin Ga-yong scowled in rebuke.
"I admired the conviction in your blade, yet it's stained with the blood of strangers for a handful of silver?"
"Heh heh, entertaining fellow. Call my swordsmanship what you will—it doesn't get sloppy with blood. But tell me: Who dares treat mighty Ye Mountain Zhao Family Manor as nobodies? They house a swordsman like you, after all."
"Hunting a worthy foe, are you?"
"Indeed. Cho Eo-jin tracked this eastern hermit down somehow. Offered a one-on-one with Zhao Family Manor's Benevolent Sword, Cho Ban-san. Interested?"
"...!"
"I had prior commitments, so I deferred. Rushed here three months later after finishing up—only to find the manor lord dead. Truly regrettable."
"Hmph! Know this: I declare your swordsmanship falls short of my master's blade!"
Jin Ga-yong rarely showed rudeness. Even decapitating thugs, he remained courteous. But mentioning his late master had ignited his fury.
Yet the Shandong Old Man, who might've bristled, pondered instead, tilting his head.
"...Is that so?"
"Undeniably."
"Knew it, more or less."
"You believe me?"
"If a swordsman like you says so."
"Even believing you'd be dead if Master lived?"
"That's why I said it's regrettable."
"...!"
Jin Ga-yong sighed.
The jianghu teemed with all sorts, each with their tales. Some among them lived only in the clash of blades, finding peace in death.
They were the restless ghosts haunting the martial world.