Chapter 16
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Chapter 5. Face Pursuit Unit Jeong (2)
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A procession of lavish dishes filled the table one after another. Being a high-class pleasure house, the ingredients from land, sea, and air had been artfully prepared in a rainbow of colors.
The problem was the alcohol.
There were six cups laid out, one for each member, but only a single bottle to go around.
Who did they think they were fooling?
Surely this couldn't be all?
Ye Dok-du's lips twitched in displeasure, but the hunched old man beside him poked his side, signaling him to hold back. A clear message: don't be the first to make a fool of yourself.
Ignoring them both, Jin Ga-yong picked up the lone bottle and circled the table, filling each team member's cup. He topped off his own last and spoke.
"Today marks the first time our squad has gathered in full. To commemorate, I've arranged this little get-together so we can get familiar with each other's faces. From now on, when I call your name, stand up and formally introduce yourself to the others."
"Yes, sir."
"Invisible Hand Choi Ong. You're the eldest among us, with the deepest experience to match. That's why I'd like you to serve as my deputy."
The hunched old man rose and gave a slight nod to the others.
After a cough to clear his throat, he tried to decline the offer to Jin Ga-yong, claiming the bothersome role wasn't for him.
"I appreciate the team leader's words, but this old man is too advanced in years..."
"Just so you know, the deputy position comes with an extra five nyang of silver every week. What, you don't want it?"
"Too old for... Ahem, I'll work myself to the bone for you, sir. Heh heh heh."
Choi Ong grinned slyly as he looked around at the team.
"Everyone, let's get along."
Jin Ga-yong then called out the others one by one in turn.
Iron Arm Ye Dok-du.
This man's skin was tough and his build burly—clearly trained in external hardening arts at a glance.
He claimed that in his youth, he'd even stayed at Shaolin Temple for a time. It was obviously aimed at Hwa Yeong.
Not a soul bought it. Not even Choi Ong, who seemed on pretty good terms with him.
Myriad Transformations Sword Hwa Yeong.
The "myriad transformations" in his moniker was the same as in "ever-changing."
This guy was a real chatterbox, itching to yap endlessly and mix in some self-praise. But given how firmly he insisted, he probably had picked up a technique or two from some secular martial school tied to Mount Hua.
In any case, to Flying Tiger's eyes, the man might be worthless as a person, but his swordsmanship looked competent enough.
No Use A Jeok-gang.
The hooked-nose fool stamped as a mark was a Uyghur.
His moniker was peculiar—"No Use" literally meant "of no use."
What the hell did that mean?
Jin Ga-yong was curious enough to ask if there was some hidden meaning, and the man explained it was the epithet his master had bestowed on his deathbed. His master had even earnestly instructed him to keep it for the next ten years.
Yet after seven years, he still had no clue why, he added dejectedly, leaving everyone dumbfounded.
Last was Flying Tiger's turn.
He stood, bowed politely, and said he had no fancy jianghu moniker—just "Flying Tiger."
Hwa Yeong smirked.
"That's odd. He says he has no moniker, but why does it feel like I've heard it somewhere before? Something like 'nameless scrub,' maybe. Or hmm, it sounded kinda like an insult when I heard it... What was it again?"
"...!"
Flying Tiger felt a chill in his chest.
Hwa Yeong was needling him out of spite. "Nameless scrub" was a jab at what he'd said earlier, mocking him as insignificant.
But...
What was that trailing remark supposed to imply?
No way—Mad Dog?
Sure enough, there were those who badmouthed Flying Tiger that way.
Rarely to his face, of course. Lately, the second of the Fufeng Four Heroes had blabbered "dog" right in front of him and now was listed as missing. And he probably was dead.
But he knew they whispered it behind his back.
And that was entirely by design.
His neighborhood was so brutal that he made a point of imprinting the fact: mess with Gong Won-yeong, and a rabid dog shows up to rip you apart.
The result of his aggressive methods.
That said, Hwa Yeong might've actually overheard something about Flying Tiger somewhere. And knowing who he was didn't pose a problem on its own.
But the vibe was off.
And the seating wasn't helping!
Flying Tiger masked his unease and grumbled curtly, as if it were nothing.
"Nameless scrub is the truth, so if you wanna shorten it, just call me 'Scrub Flying Tiger' or whatever."
Hwa Yeong shrugged and looked away. He'd backed off a step.
With their subtle clash resolved, Ye Dok-du offered his take.
"Heh, so now our squad's got 'No Use' plus a 'petty scrub' to boot? Kukuku. Face Pursuit Unit Jeong, what a way to kick things off."
Clap.
Jin Ga-yong, who'd been watching, clapped to cut it short and draw eyes back to himself. Sternly, he said,
"That's enough. I know you're not your average roughnecks—that's why I picked you. But an organization only runs right when trust is solid from the start. You've all been around the block, so you get it. Keep it in check. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Introductions done, chit-chat over. Everyone, grab a cup."
The Face Pursuit Unit Jeong raised their cups high, and starting with Jin Ga-yong, they downed the contents in a wave, one after another.
The first round.
It was good stuff—"Ahh~" worthy. Not quite on par with the bottle he'd gotten from Jin Ga-yong the day before yesterday, but plenty fine regardless.
Now only two-thirds of the bottle remained, and Jin Ga-yong circled again to refill the empties.
Then he called on Choi Ong.
"Hey, deputy."
"Yes?"
"Introductions are done, first drinks down. What's next?"
"Uh, well, now we get into the real..."
Introductions done, drinks had—what else but dig into the spread?
Choi Ong glanced at the cooling dishes, about to say as much, but caught his superior's eye.
Aw, hell—nope.
The team realized then that this gathering wasn't for casual dining and boozing.
At that moment, Jin Ga-yong tilted his gaze to the ceiling and muttered as if to himself.
"Would be perfect to test each other's skills and sync up while we're at it. I wonder if the deputy gets where I'm coming from."
That wasn't a soliloquy—it was stage aside, meant for the audience but not the other actors.
And when the boss drops a hint like that, what resistance could the deputy muster?
"Ahem, since we're all here, how about a light warm-up to get our coordination going?"
"Oho, you think so? How?"
"Well, lightly... Sigh, Team Leader Jin, with all these fine dishes laid out, what do you have in mind?"
Only then did Jin Ga-yong chuckle. Straightening his expression, he said,
"First, fill your bellies proper. Then assemble at the designated spot before the second watch ends. Loosen up by then. Time to sync up—and your first official mission from me."
"...!"
The team exchanged glances and smacked their lips.
No wonder he'd insisted on a "welcome dinner" right off the bat on their first night together. Some feast...
As disappointment set in, the usually quiet A Jeok-gang nodded approvingly.
"Still, feeding us hearty before work suits me fine."
Flying Tiger raised his hand.
"Who's the target?"
"One Heart Society. They're on a hot streak, even planting spies. Guess the Martial Qin Alliance looked like a pushover."
Wasn't the sixth guy originally slated for this squad from their side?
No wonder they'd let him go so nicely—they meant to uproot them entirely.
Flying Tiger shot his hand up again.
"Is that our reason for hitting them?"
"What, need more?"
"Feels like infighting between jianghu factions. Weren't our targets supposed to be those who'd committed heaven-defying crimes and landed on the kill list?"
The team stared at Flying Tiger in surprise. Even Team Leader Jin Ga-yong eyed him with amusement.
Flying Tiger's pointed questions rang true, but who says that to the employer?
He usually spoke his mind, but he wasn't clueless—quite sharp, actually. And something told him it was fine with this leader.
Whether right or not, Jin Ga-yong nodded and explained readily.
"Not on the list, true. But they were under investigation, made the shortlist even. Taking advantage of the chaos across the jianghu lately, they've hooked up with black path outfits in Gansu Province—business booming by the day. Main trades: human trafficking and drug distribution. Gansu brings in massive opium shipments; One Heart Society hands over abducted women. They peddle the opium across Shaanxi Province. What's your take, Flying Tiger?"
"Vile scum. Hard to believe they didn't make the list."
"Exactly. That's why we're digging deeper. Figuring out which lunatic took the bribe to pull this off."
Time to carve out the rot within, too.
Hwa Yeong, curiosity piqued, hesitated to raise his hand, but Jin Ga-yong shook his head.
"Save the other questions for after reviewing the ops docs."
"...Yes, sir."
"Still, any idea why I answered you?"
"No."
"I'm no fan of the Martial Qin Alliance being spotless either. But at least Face Pursuit Unit Jeong does the right thing. Delivering iron justice to the wicked in heaven's stead! That's why I joined up. So take pride in this squad!"
Flying Tiger found himself staring blankly into Jin Ga-yong's eyes.
Not a flicker of insincerity—pure and straight.
It startled him.
In this day and age, someone spouting such corny lines...
A real xia, straight out of the tales.
With business done, Jin Ga-yong raised his cup again, and the second round rippled through.
Now just a third of the bottle left; Jin Ga-yong poured it out carefully and emptied it. He distributed the briefing materials, told them to eat up, and left.
His empty seat held only a full cup.
Did that mean three rounds were okay? Or stick to two?
The team eyed their cups warily, while Ye Dok-du crossed his arms, glaring at his in lament: "Now what?"
'Take pride, huh? Funny guy.'
Flying Tiger smirked, snatched his cup, and downed it. A sharp, oddly satisfying buzz.