Chapter 175
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Return Gift (2)
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Seungmu School was a martial arts dojo that taught the arts of wielding eight weapons: saber, sword, spear, axe, bow, crossbow, halberd, and shield. Its spear techniques were especially renowned, owing to the fact that its leader, master of the Eight Arms Shim Ik-seon, hailed from Hanzhong Fortress in Shaanxi Province—a place renowned as the origin of spear masters.
Naturally, Seungmu School belonged to the Martial Qin Alliance. And thanks to that affiliation, Shim Ik-seon had barely been running the dojo in Mianyang for a decade before it overtook the established local sects to become the preeminent faction in Mianyang County.
The main gate of Seungmu School stood firmly shut. Guarding it were two warriors, standing ramrod straight with their sharpened long spears at the ready.
On any normal day, they would have flung the gates wide open to welcome visitors. But since yesterday afternoon, they had been turning away everyone who came calling with such hostile airs, no questions asked.
It was an extraordinarily unusual occurrence. And even now, before the Si hour (9-11 a.m.) had passed very long, they had already sent back ten such intruders today.
And now, the eleventh was approaching.
"Halt!"
"What's with the attitude? I'm a guest here on important business. Is your sect leader inside?"
"The sect leader isn't present at the moment. So please return home and come back in a few days."
"What's going on?"
"It's sect business, so we can't tell outsiders. If you're not looking to pick a fight, be on your way."
"Oh? Did you learn mind-reading or something? How'd you know my thoughts so well?"
"...?"
One of the gate guards blinked in confusion at the nonsense, then gripped his spear tightly and glared ferociously.
His menacing aura was no joke.
The visitor flinched back with a grumbled, "Tch, fine, I'll go," before scurrying away like he was fleeing.
"What kind of jerk is that?"
The guard spat the words while glaring daggers at the retreating figure. The more he thought about that arrogant tone—as if the guy was somebody special—the angrier he got. He was about ready to chase after him and give him a beating right then and there. But his fellow guard, who'd been watching from the side, held him back.
"Instructor Wang, even if it rubs you wrong, hold it in. Didn't the sect leader warn us firmly? No needless trouble."
But some people in this world were just like that. The more someone tried to stop a fight, the more they puffed up and threw tantrums. Instructor Wang was exactly that type, so he pointed at the guest he'd chased off and bellowed loudly enough to make sure he heard.
"Needless trouble? Instructor Jang, you heard that crap he was spouting too, right?"
"Hey now. Someone inside might hear. Lower your voice, please."
"Fine, just let go of my arm for a sec. Hey! You, come here! What, curious where our sect leader is? Want me to tell you for real?"
Instructor Wang bickered with Instructor Jang, his inner rage building until he actually called the intruder back.
Did the guest finally get spooked by Instructor Wang's thunderous tone?
Suddenly. He stopped.
The man who'd been shuffling away briskly halted in his tracks. He pulled something from his bosom, wrapped it around his head, then whipped around and charged back at them.
Tat-tat-tat—
The guest had transformed into a masked assailant—Flying Tiger. He wasn't the type to come running just because someone told him to. When words failed, he'd backed off to build up distance for a running start.
Flying Tiger leaped straight at Instructor Wang in a single bound.
Whoosh~
Instructor Wang hadn't expected him to actually charge back. Even if he had, Instructor Jang was still holding him back. So he couldn't dodge a thing. He just stood there, eyes bulging like saucers, and took Flying Tiger's flying kick square to the face.
Crack. Thud-thud-thud.
The main gates of Seungmu School burst open as Instructor Wang and Instructor Jang tumbled inside together.
Instructor Wang rolled unconscious, his face a bloody mess. Instructor Jang tumbled after him and scrambled to his feet. But Flying Tiger was on him in an instant, slamming a knee into him with a sickening crunch that sent him sprawling.
Step. Step.
The masked Flying Tiger strode past the fallen guards into the depths of Seungmu School. From here on, he planned to thrash anyone he came across. That's why he'd donned the mask.
"You'll figure out soon enough that my 'important business' is serious trouble for you lot."
Flying Tiger spat on the ground and whistled piercingly, channeling his inner energy to make it echo thunderously.
Whiiieee~
Flutter-flap~
A messenger pigeon took to the skies, freed from its cage. But it didn't get far before plummeting back to earth—struck by a fast-flung stone.
Whose handiwork was that?
Hyeong U-saeng, who'd been waiting on the outskirts.
He approached the fallen bird, pocketed the letter tied to its leg, dusted off his hands, and gazed toward the chaotic uproar at Seungmu School.
"Alright, message secured. Now, who should I go help? Looks like Flying Tiger's having fun enough on his own. How about our hot-tempered little brother?"
"Over there."
The hot-tempered So Myeong-rang's eyes gleamed.
He'd sneaked around to the back of Seungmu School and just located the sect leader Shim Ik-seon's residence—the place where people were rushing in and out, shouting things like, "Sect leader, big trouble!"
Evidently, Flying Tiger's "business" from the front gate had reached the sect leader after all.
Shing.
So Myeong-rang drew the longsword from his back and took a deep breath.
Then he charged out.
Five warriors stood guard before the sect leader's quarters. They had to be among the school's elites, by all appearances. But So Myeong-rang didn't care. He was going to cut them down regardless. High master or novice, what did it matter if they couldn't block his strike? And if they did block it...
'I'll gladly offer my life in return. So go ahead—try blocking it.'
Flash.
So Myeong-rang's longsword trailed a dull gray gleam as it plummeted vertically. The opponent, startled by the sudden charge, swung his short spear on instinct—a fatal mistake.
The longsword cleaved through the spear and the first victim in one go.
Splatter.
Unsated, the blood-drenched blade sought its second and third victims in rapid succession.
Flash. Flash.
Like roasting beans over lightning, So Myeong-rang struck three times in a breath. He lunged at the fourth victim, who staggered back with wide eyes.
Flash.
Only then did the fifth warrior assume a proper stance and shout into the building.
"Sect leader, enemy attack! Get aw—!"
But his cry was swallowed by the plummeting "Tiger's Roar." It wasn't the sort of thing you could block just by trying.
Flash.