Chapter 162
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Vertical and Horizontal (2)
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The man seemed genuinely surprised to find Flying Tiger unscathed, far more intact than expected. He'd thrown everything he had into that clash, only to be repelled, yet all Flying Tiger suffered was minor internal bruising? He quickly pieced it together.
Flying Tiger must have pulled back the force he was about to unleash right before impact, deflecting the blow instead of meeting it head-on.
And there were only two possible reasons for that. Either he'd sensed his own power falling short and backed off voluntarily, or he'd worried about causing a disaster neither could handle. When two sides collide with full force, one is bound to come out badly hurt.
'Either way, no fun at all.'
The man withdrew his long dao with a sigh of disappointment, his excitement thoroughly dampened. But while he felt that way, Flying Tiger apparently thought differently.
Flying Tiger shook out his wrist, and his hooked dao trembled once before stiffening rigidly. With its edge raised, it advanced toward the man.
"Who are you?"
"I am..."
"Not you! I said I'm done with you. No, first things first—you need a beating. Then the rest will come spilling out."
"What the hell are you babbling about?"
Flying Tiger let out a cold chuckle and flicked the tip of his hooked dao. It was tantamount to a declaration of war. No sooner had he done so than he lunged forward, thrusting the blade straight out.
The man responded with a scoffing look, readjusting his grip on his long dao in place before slashing down with full force.
Screeech.
The long dao cleaved through the air with a sound that was anything but ordinary. He hadn't even wrapped it in qi this time, and it seemed like a casual swing, yet...
But Flying Tiger had no intention of charging in blindly from the start. He spun the teasing blade around to fold it while crossing his feet left and right to evade. Then, he abruptly thrust the folded sword at the man's flank.
The man retracted his long dao with startling speed—as if the downward slash had never happened—twisting his body to slash down at Flying Tiger's incoming thrust once more.
Again, the long dao came crashing toward Flying Tiger's head!
Flying Tiger dodged left once more, pressing in and relentlessly targeting the man's side with his hooked dao. It was a double feint executed right in front of the opponent's eyes.
One might expect such flashy moves to throw off an enemy's coordination, but the man's actions showed not a single error. He retracted his long dao, twisted, and slashed down again.
Like a machine.
And with unrelenting ferocity.
Judging by the precision of those movements, it seemed he could keep this up indefinitely.
'Is that how it is?'
Flying Tiger suddenly kicked off the ground hard with his back foot and surged forward. As he did, he unleashed a barrage of strikes from his hooked dao toward the man's descending long dao.
This time, it was a direct clash.
But how could the ever-shifting situation be the same as before?
Eight strikes in an instant—it was the first step of the Sixty-Four Winds and Waters Whirl.
Splitting the rhythm to move half a beat faster than the opponent. And if one strike was pushed back, follow with many more.
It was Flying Tiger's own strategy to neutralize the man's brutish swordplay.
In truth, he'd used a similar approach against Elder Sandong before. But back then, the elder's slashes had been too fast; he'd barely managed even one swing and nearly met disaster.
This opponent, however, was different. Not just anyone could match Elder Sandong. Moreover, Flying Tiger was now attuned to the man's slashing speed, probing his rhythm and gaining a slight edge. The outcome would surely differ.
Dit-dit-da—clang!
Flying Tiger's successive slashes bounced off but kept hammering away, slowing the long dao with each hit until the fifth strike halted it completely. The sixth and seventh shook it further, and the eighth finally shoved it aside.
Thud.
The man scowled as his downward strike was blocked, stepping back two paces. He gripped his quivering long dao with both hands like he was wringing it out, then raised the tip sky-high.
He was determined to slash down no matter what.
With a shout, he pursued the advancing Flying Tiger and brought it down with all his might.
"Hah!"
But by then, Flying Tiger had advanced two more steps, unleashing a total of sixteen slashes.
Dit-dit-da—clang!
Sparks flew like popping beans, scattering in all directions amid flashes of light.
The man's long dao bounced back, shoving him forcefully. As he staggered, he caught sight of Flying Tiger charging relentlessly, and his already sharp gaze turned ferocious.
It wasn't just wounded pride from taking a clear hit. He realized that if he couldn't break this chain attack now, it wouldn't end with mere pride.
His eyes hardened.
He frantically burned his inner energy and gritted his teeth.
'Fine! You want to play for real after I went easy?'
The rigidly raised long dao was instantly enveloped in gray mist. And just then, a blue gleam flickered in the pursuing Flying Tiger's eyes.
...!
In that instant, the eyes of the two men, meeting head-on, welled up with a bewilderment utterly unrelated to the dire situation. Through each other's gaze, they realized this confusion wasn't theirs alone.
The next moment, both hastily withdrew their attacks and forcibly pulled back. But with both at full power, it wasn't easy.
The man suffered minor internal injuries converting the hastily surged energy. Flying Tiger lost balance trying to reverse his forward momentum abruptly and stumbled, collapsing awkwardly in the end. It had been that urgent.
As the two separated, something heavy as a boulder kept slamming into the ground between them.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The earth cratered deeply, dust clouds rising like thunderheads over a radius of about fifteen feet.
What was that?
A meteor?
Surprisingly, it wasn't a meteor—just three fist-sized rocks. Yet each one's momentum was so vicious that they burrowed two feet deep, churning up the ground.
Flying Tiger looked incredulously toward where the rocks had come from.
There stood a middle-aged man who'd just thrown them, with an old man who didn't seem entirely decrepit quietly following behind.
Though it was the middle-aged man who'd dramatically separated the two fighters with his astonishing skill, Flying Tiger couldn't tear his eyes from the elder. The impression was that intense.
The elder was unpretentiously plain.
Even his attire spoke of it: a long robe that must have once been black was now faded to gray from years of wear. It looked like it had weathered the storms of time alongside him—not just the robe, but everything he wore, even the weathered scabbard at his waist.
Of average build, his visible demeanor seemed merely a touch aloof, still within the realm of the ordinary.
He was the kind of old man you might find tucked into some corner of a traditional painting.
That very ordinariness startled Flying Tiger.
A living, breathing person wasn't a static image. Living beings with their unique traits—how could any lack even one distinctive quirk? They only averaged out when lumped together.
Viewed that way, it was definitely strange.
Looking closer, he neither flaunted nor hid behind pretense.
Just an empty shell of a man?
Perhaps sensing Flying Tiger's gaze, the elder met his eyes. There was no hostility or goodwill in them. Indifferent, yet not casually dismissive like glancing at roadside pebbles. He acknowledged and assessed, but no emotions followed.
How could someone be like that?
Or rather, how had he become that way?
Then a voice broke Flying Tiger's reverie.
"Uncle, why did you stop the fight?"
"Quiet. Do you intend to cause a ruckus before an elder? He has words for you—stand back silently."
The fierce man who'd been battling Flying Tiger flinched at "elder" and respectfully withdrew.
The middle-aged man turned to Flying Tiger.
"You're Flying Tiger?"
"That's right."
"I'm called Hyeong of the Hyeong Clan. Friends in the jianghu call me the Heaven-Smiting Bird. Ever heard of me?"
"My knowledge is limited, so I hadn't until now. But I did hear the name just this afternoon. Heaven-Smiting Bird Hyeong U-saeng—the one the Heavenly Ear Division fears and guards against without end?"
Heaven-Smiting Bird Hyeong U-saeng.
They said he could hit a flying bird with a stone, earning him the moniker "Heaven-Smiting Bird."
But who fell to his stone-throwing besides birds? He'd felled countless renowned experts. The jianghu brimmed with eccentrics, but he stood unrivaled in fame among them.
Ho Ye-hwa had mentioned it that morning. The Heavenly Ear Division had singled out two guests hired by Zhao Family Manor as top threats: one was the Turbulent River Fish Oh Rim, the other Hyeong U-saeng.
Listening then, Flying Tiger had nodded along but harbored some doubt.
He himself could catch incoming arrows barehanded and leap two or three zhang with focus. So why would experts cower before mere stone-throwing? "Why, though?"
But now Flying Tiger fully understood.
Stones from the ground wielded crater-making power—who wouldn't shatter if one hit their head, even if trained in Iron Head Skill?
Dodge them? Easier said than done. Judge a man by one skill, and you know the rest. Someone with such mystical prowess surely had more.
"Ho ho, so those wretched fools heard my name and got all tense, eh?"
Hyeong U-saeng seemed pleased by Flying Tiger's smooth words and asked back with evident delight.
His youthful, compact frame made him look boyish when he grinned, transforming his stern entrance into that of a mischievous rascal. It was a peculiar face where age and youth coexisted, likely from the life he'd led.
Flying Tiger played along. It wasn't wrong, after all.
"Straight from a Heavenly Ear Division executive—undeniable fact."
"I see. Well then, do you recognize the elder behind me? Or what did the Heavenly Ear Division call him?"
Hyeong U-saeng's eyes sparkled as he asked.
Flying Tiger gazed past him at the elder and spoke.
"The Heavenly Ear Division naturally didn't recognize you, Elder. Lucky for them—or rather, I have my suspicions."
"Huh? You know me but not the elder? Why?"
"...?"
Flying Tiger was dumbfounded by Hyeong U-saeng's childlike whining and wanted to fire back.
'Why didn't the Heavenly Ear Division know this old man's identity? Obviously because he moved so covertly even your spy, the wandering merchant Yangji, didn't notice. And you're asking me? Is he an idiot?'
Only then did Flying Tiger reasonably suspect that Hyeong U-saeng before him wasn't just eccentric but slightly unhinged. Still, he didn't show it and explained instead.
"Who knows? I can guess, though. When someone's hell-bent on dying, anything can happen, right? And it did."
"Uh... really?"
"Yes. They must've attacked because they didn't know. Surely they wouldn't dare point blades at Zhao Family Manor knowing one of the world's Ten Masters, the Gold Gate Sword Lord, was there. Isn't that right, Elder Sangunbo?"
Flying Tiger's gaze had shifted from Hyeong U-saeng to the elder.