Chapter 149
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Felling Men (2)
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The Shandong Old Man was in dire straits. So how did he intend to fight his way out?
Drip...
Blood trickled from both of the Shandong Old Man's ears. He had used his qi to rupture his own eardrums.
This blocked out external sounds. It was a desperate measure to avoid being ensnared by the bell on the Soul Spirit Sword.
If he had time, it might have been different, but with Jin Ga-yong's sword flashing right before his eyes, he had no other choice.
"Much better."
The Shandong Old Man muttered as he seized the Soul Spirit Sword lunging toward his own blade with his left hand.
The moment he did, the Soul Spirit Sword thrashed wildly, instantly shredding the old man's grip into bloody rags. Unless one's hand had been tempered by some extraordinary method, no one could hold on through such motion.
The Shandong Old Man had anticipated this to some extent. He wasn't surprised and instead twisted the Soul Spirit Sword, driving it into his own shoulder.
Stab.
He was determined to sacrifice his left hand and one shoulder to seal the Soul Spirit Sword's movements, if only for a moment.
The bleeding was severe, and it was a dangerous gamble.
But thanks to it, the old man's sword gained a brief moment of freedom.
The Shandong Old Man swung his blade with all his might. Venom gleamed in his eyes, and he bit his lips until they bled.
Riiip—
With a sound like silk tearing, the old man's sword cleaved through space.
But it was in vain.
As if the blood staining the Shandong Old Man's lips had lost its color, Jin Ga-yong effortlessly withdrew his body. The moment the old man gripped the Soul Spirit Sword's blade, Jin released it without hesitation and retreated.
He even shoved it away like a thrown spear!
Pushed back, the old man swung his sword, but chasing after it in that split-second exchange—how could it end well?
It was enough to draw a hollow laugh.
Thus, the old man paid a heavy price for nothing.
But on the other hand, he had shoved the infuriating Jin Ga-yong back at a distance and succeeded in prying the spine-chilling Soul Spirit Sword from his grasp.
He had achieved his basic goal, even if he'd given away too much in the process.
'So now, I just need to make up for it from here. And to do that, right now when that bastard's unarmed... No, damn it!'
Shing.
As Jin Ga-yong retreated, he drew the sword from his waist. It was the one whose durability had been heavily worn from clashing with the Shandong Old Man's strikes earlier.
And he lunged once more toward the Shandong Old Man, who hadn't even steadied his stance.
To pause here and explain about Jin Ga-yong: if he had a good weapon, of course he'd fight even better. But whether lacking or without one entirely, he fought just as fiercely without complaint.
He wasn't the type to obsess over rare treasures or fine tools to begin with.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Riding his momentum, Jin Ga-yong pressed relentlessly, forcing the Shandong Old Man to stagger back repeatedly.
The old man, who had tried to overwhelm with raw power, was instead utterly dominated by Jin's superior technique, unable to mount a defense.
His breath came in choked gasps.
His wounds throbbed and worsened.
And his head burned hot!
But the old man endured, holding on. It wasn't time to lose his grip on sanity yet.
If even once amid this barrage his sword properly caught Jin's, that blade wouldn't hold—it would shatter. That was his hope.
Just once...
Crack!
The old man's wish came true like a miracle—on his twentieth retreating step.
It hadn't been long in time, but Jin Ga-yong's sword had whipped about so ferociously and sharply that the old man's upper body was soaked in blood, and above all, his stamina was on the verge of depletion.
But like a monkey tumbling from a tree or a rat caught under an ox's backstep—whatever it was—blade met sword squarely.
And Jin Ga-yong's sword shattered!
The next instant.
Jin tossed the broken sword and leaped back, while the Shandong Old Man stepped forward to pursue.
How could he let such a chance slip?
If needed, he'd draw on his innate qi—make it dinner or make it poison—he was resolved to settle it here.
That was his intent!
Crackle. Crackle.
As the Shandong Old Man launched himself, he suddenly staggered.
His sword hand trembled violently, and a sinister energy crept up his arm. His blade too let out a crick before shattering into pieces.
...!
In the instant their blades had clashed moments ago, the old man had infused Jin's sword with "twisted power," and Jin had promptly returned a portion of it.
It was a branch of the Yi Hua Jie Mu technique—grafting a flowering branch onto another tree. It could also be seen as the method Flying Tiger had suspected with the carriage power.
The difference from then was that previously, Jin had transferred the "twisted power" he'd received from the old man to the bamboo, whereas now he had immediately returned it to the source.
Thus, that clash wasn't a monkey's fluke or an ox's accident.
It was Jin Ga-yong's deliberate counter, the finishing blow after stripping the old man bare.
"Tsk tsk tsk."
The Shandong Old Man gazed at Jin Ga-yong, making an ambiguous sound—tongue-clicking or chuckling, it was unclear—as he collapsed to the ground, unable to control his faltering body.
Jin Ga-yong stood tall, looking down at him.
The flames flickering in Jin's eyes, as seen by the old man, quickly subsided into a calm, colorless serenity.
That sight stung his heart.
It proved he was no longer worth igniting that fighting spirit.
Jin now had no Soul Spirit Sword, and the blade he'd wielded lay broken. Yet his aura still brimmed with indomitable will, as if he could face any foe for a hundred or a thousand bouts.
Whereas he himself...
Cough, cough.
Soon the old man spewed blood from his mouth and sprawled out flat. He stared vacantly at the sky.
It was fine weather to die in.
"This old man has lost."
It was the moment Ye Mountain's Zhao Family Manor's Blazing Sword Jin Ga-yong defeated the Heavenly Army's Shandong Old Man.
"Flying Tiger warrior, what are you doing right now?"
Jin Ga-yong asked, furrowing his brow.
Before him, Flying Tiger knelt on one knee, politely offering the Soul Spirit Sword with both hands.
Just before, Jin had approached to finish off the Shandong Old Man, only for Flying Tiger to dart out from somewhere, sword in hand—heaven knew when he'd picked it up—and present it so reverently.
Flying Tiger blocking his path and showing excessive courtesy unsettled Jin. He'd always been suspicious, after all. That was why his words came out sharp.
"Squad Leader Jin, I have a request."
"It's been ages since I last saw you, Deputy Squad Leader, and the first thing you do is ask a favor... We have plenty of catching up to do between us, so this feels a bit disappointing. Anyway, have you been busy?"
"Yes. I've been quite occupied lately. That's why I'm asking..."
"Hold on. Let me speak first. If it's about sparing the old man behind you, that's impossible. I'm not merciful enough to forgive you, your junior brothers, or anyone who drew steel against the Zhao Family Manor."
Jin Ga-yong drew the line first.
Flying Tiger subtly shook the proffered Soul Spirit Sword, gesturing: Remember who caught the rat hiding in your family.
"You're right. It's the squad leader's rightful prerogative. So that man won't escape death today. But before that, could you grant me the first chance?"
"...?"
"There's a promise I made."
Step, step.
Flying Tiger approached the Shandong Old Man. Jin Ga-yong stepped back one pace to watch.
Lying there, the Shandong Old Man looked up at the approaching Flying Tiger with mixed feelings, then abruptly turned his head away.
He seemed ashamed.
"Come to mock my sorry state?"
"Tch! How's the body holding up? Can you move?"
"Hmph, I'm fine. Stop insulting me and just kill me quick."
"Yeah, looks like you're not making it through today, old timer."
Flying Tiger said calmly, then raised his voice.
"But you're just gonna croak like this?"
"...And?"
"Didn't you say you wanted to perfect your swordsmanship before dying? That it was your goal for whatever life you had left?"
"Heh heh heh. You see me broken like this and still ask seriously? It's all pointless!"
Flying Tiger tilted his head and murmured softly.
"Are you really all tapped out?"
At Flying Tiger's words, the near-dead Shandong Old Man flared up with, "You son of a bitch!"
His fury was so fierce that even Flying Tiger flinched and made excuses.
He thought the blood crust in the old man's ears had blocked the sound. It was just musing to himself, so no need to mind it too much.
Was that even an excuse?
The old man found it absurd, then felt awkward. What was all this fuss when he was about to die?
Deeming he'd gotten sufficient leeway, Flying Tiger began what he wanted to say.
"Listen. Watching it play out, our Squad Leader Jin crafted a perfect strategy tailored to you. He won because of it, but think differently: why go to such lengths?"
"Because..."
"Exactly. He had to, to beat you. Meaning your swordsmanship is plenty strong and threatening. That's why he schemed this way and that, right? Even though it's still unfinished."
"Whoa~ Lost the fight, but not because the sword art was weak?"
"Yep. So don't let your pride crumble."
The Shandong Old Man smiled bitterly.
Truth be told, Flying Tiger's words had a flaw. He knew it, but the comfort still landed. A bit of ease crept into his heart, filled with shame and misery.
"So what do you want from a dying old man like me?"
"Not me—it's what you want. Let's do that."
"Huh?"
"Get up. Even if it hurts, stand and perfect that sword art till your last breath. I promised, didn't I? I'd lend a hand."
"You don't mean... right here, right now, unleash your 'Shattering Formation' for me to block?"
"Bingo. Wouldn't wanna part ways like this, right? I'll watch with both eyes wide open. That's the small courtesy I, living in these rivers and lakes, can offer."
"...!"
The Shandong Old Man looked at Flying Tiger.
Flying Tiger grinned. His face seemed contrived, but his shadowed eyes held sincerity.
Flying Tiger sought Jin Ga-yong's permission and stopped by his quarters. He fetched the sword whose durability he'd drained battling the old man the day before.
In the meantime, the old man sat in meditation, regulating his breath. His wounds were grave—nothing would change—but at least he'd calmed his ragged breathing and prepared.
Whether that time steeled his resolve to perfect his swordsmanship or helped him accept death, only he knew.
With preparations done, the two faced each other.
But their goals differed.
The old man sought closure to a long journey; the youth aimed for a dramatic new beginning.