Chapter 183
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Lightning Flash (3)
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Im Wan-baek and Shim Heum had planned to arrive at Yurimwon before midnight tonight.
So, to catch them off guard and make it count, striking tonight—and as swiftly as possible—was the way to go. The longer they waited past the expected arrival time, the more anxious and vigilant those bastards would become.
With that in mind, the three set to work refining their plan. Flying Tiger had sketched the basic framework, and now Hyung Woo-saeng and So Myeong-rang were fleshing it out.
As the discussion wound down, So Myeong-rang spoke up.
"Isn't there a chance word from Seungmu Gate has already reached them?"
"If our luck's rotten, sure. But Hyung Woo-saeng hyung blocked the messenger pigeons they sent out himself, so it'll take time to spread. A day or two, at least? They're cut off now, scrambling to put out the fires right under their own noses."
Hyung Woo-saeng nodded in agreement with Flying Tiger's words, then suddenly turned to him.
"But are you really sure about barreling ahead with this plan?"
Flying Tiger replied evenly.
"Hyung Woo-saeng hyung, and you too, So hyung—keep this burned into your minds. We get out of Hanjung Garrison territory by tomorrow morning. Even if things don't go perfectly, we make damn sure they believe we did. That's the crux of it."
"Got it."
After that, the three gave their escape route one final check.
Then they split up, each taking about half a shichen to rest however they saw fit. They had every reason to be worn out—they'd been riding hard since dawn, fighting nonstop whenever they dismounted.
So Myeong-rang circulated his qi in meditation. Flying Tiger spread out a mat in the corner and lay down. Hyung Woo-saeng leaned back comfortably a short distance away, lit his pipe, and puffed on it now and then. As the smoke drifted off, he hummed old wandering tunes. It was his personal ritual for easing tension before a big hunt.
...
"Flying Tiger dongsaeng, time to move."
Flying Tiger stirred in a daze at the voice filtering through his half-sleep, then snapped his eyes open. So Myeong-rang asked if he was all right, and once he'd shaken off the fog, Flying Tiger nodded, brushed himself off, and stood. He straightened his rumpled clothes and checked the weapons strapped to his waist and wrists.
"Sweet dream or something? You were out cold."
"Maybe?"
Flying Tiger took the reins Hyung Woo-saeng handed him and heaved his fatigued body onto the horse. With everyone mounted and ready, he glanced around at his comrades.
"Ready to go wrap this up?"
Thundering hooves pounded as Flying Tiger's group galloped west along the official road toward the Hanzhong region. Near midnight, they reined in their horses. They still had about sixty or seventy li to go to Hanzhong. The spot was out of sight from there, but beyond the southern ridgeline, the Han River should be flowing.
"We starting around here?"
"Yeah. I eyed the terrain toward the river on the way—this area's the best for a straight dash."
Flying Tiger dismounted and pulled an item from behind the saddle as he spoke. He unwrapped the cloth covering it and gave it a tap.
Flutter, flutter.
It was a birdcage, holding three pigeons. One was laid out from exhaustion, but thankfully the other two flapped their wings.
Back when they'd raided Seungmu Gate, Hyung Woo-saeng had personally fetched the cage where the messenger pigeons were kept. Flying Tiger had carried it on his saddle ever since.
This was the trick he'd mentioned earlier for tracking down Yurimwon.
'We'll use Seungmu Gate's own messenger pigeons.'
Since pigeons homed by instinct, the idea was to release them near where Yurimwon might be and follow. Hyung Woo-saeng had confirmed they exchanged birds with Yurimwon by slingshotting one mid-flight.
Of course, So Myeong-rang's concern was valid—there was a trap.
The pigeons' instincts might lead them somewhere other than Yurimwon. No guarantee they only swapped with them.
That's why they prepared three. Hoping at least one would head to Yurimwon.
"Everyone set to chase like hell?"
"Ready."
"Me too."
"Good. Let's see how far Zuo Yingqi's reach extends."
Flying Tiger opened the cage. The two alert pigeons shot out, leaving the sprawled one behind.
Whoosh.
They took off one after another, seeming to head the same way at first—then one banked sharply and split off. One flew east, the other southeast.
So which to pick?
The Han River lay south, Yurimwon by the riverside. The group chose the southeast-bound bird and gave chase with qinggong.
Clatter of footfalls.
But matching a bird's speed was tough enough—catching one slicing unhindered through the air while bound to the ground? Impossible from the start.
The bird grew smaller, shrank to a speck, and vanished.
In that time, the three had poured every ounce of effort into the pursuit, so gaps opened between them: Hyung Woo-saeng out front, Flying Tiger next, So Myeong-rang trailing.
Not that So Myeong-rang was slow. His qinggong was top-notch; the other two were just faster.
And Hyung Woo-saeng, who chased the pigeon longest, was blessed with naturally swift feet and eyes. As a hunter, he navigated mountains and fields like they were nothing. Even faster than Flying Tiger, who could toy with Choeojin's pursuers. That explained how he'd survived this brutal jianghu all these years—not his slingshot prowess, but this exceptional lightness skill that let him sling stones and vanish without a trace.
Of course, to the already-gone pigeon, it was all the same.
Hyung Woo-saeng kept bounding up and down ridges long after the bird disappeared before halting. It was a hilltop. Taller peaks ringed it, but one side overlooked the Han River, the other opened wide for a broad view.
Moments later, Flying Tiger and So Myeong-rang arrived one after another.
"Which way'd it go?"
"That direction. My guess is somewhere around here."
Hyung Woo-saeng's finger traced a small circle. But even that tiny loop encompassed nine peaks. Way too vast to comb on foot.
Flying Tiger, though, looked pleased. He scanned beyond the circle and pointed to one spot.
"Perfect. Hanzhong's that way, so how about we post up around there?"
"What about a bit higher up, here?"
Flying Tiger and Hyung Woo-saeng traded thoughts on their positioning. Picking the ideal choke point, in other words.
Flying Tiger had never intended to pinpoint Yurimwon's exact spot by tailing the pigeons. He just wanted to narrow the search area as much as possible.
If people from Yurimwon slipped out a side path—and if that led toward Hanjung Garrison—they'd pass through certain chokepoints. It didn't have to be the precise route. As long as they could spot anyone nearby, a vantage with clear sightlines would do.
This was fishing, plain and simple. Bait the water, settle in, and wait for the fish to bite.
The bait? Letters tied to the legs of both released pigeons—notes designed to spark curiosity.
<Mysterious figures passed through. They were pursuing Third Young Master and Elder Shim Heum. They seem to know the pair's identities. Suspected to be from the Elder Council. Awaiting word on next moves.>
Flying Tiger's group moved out again.
They retrieved the horses they'd left behind during the foot chase and headed to the marked spot. From there, they scouted a position with the best view of the surroundings. By the time they'd settled in after all that hustling, midnight had long passed.
Flying Tiger's group waited.
Clouds hurried across the wide-open night sky, while far above, tiny star grains twinkled down at them with apparent curiosity.
...
As always, Flying Tiger passed the time by counting numbers in his head. It was right around three hundred when—lost in the mood—he suddenly recalled the dream of Gong Won-yeong from his brief nap. He'd brushed off Hyung Woo-saeng's question with a vague "Maybe," but it had definitely been a pleasant one.
'Not the right spot to dwell on it, though.'
So, even as he mechanically ticked off numbers at steady intervals, Flying Tiger shifted his thoughts to side matters. They drifted to Jin Ga-yong, and he found himself wondering what the man was up to.
He had a rough idea.
But right now—what was Jin Ga-yong seeing? Thinking? Doing?
It was just past the count of three hundred forty-nine.
*When he reached 'three hundred fifty.'
That's when Jin Ga-yong stood there with his usual impassive expression. It was before a massive manor on the outskirts of the capital, Chang'an City. The sign he gazed at read:
Golden Silk Merchant Group.
The final hub of the Silk Road linking east and west—and in the cutthroat world of Central Plains commerce, one of the top ten conglomerates even in this battleground of Chang'an.
How vast was the fortune they'd amassed? What burning ambition and toil had built it?
But their greed had gone too far.
Not content with steadily funneling funds to Choeojin, they'd thrown their own weight into leading the charge on Zhao Family Manor. They'd recruited ronin warriors from across the land, shipped them in—and when numbers still fell short, committed some of their own house guards to the fray.
They'd crossed the line.
'And now they pay the price.'
Jin Ga-yong spat the killing words and vaulted the wall in a single bound.
*When he hit 'three hundred seventy-seven.'
The first sword slid free from Jin Ga-yong's scabbard.
He'd just leaped into the inner courtyard. Guards from the outer yard were thundering after him in pursuit, while dozens of merchant guards in the inner yard drew weapons to meet him. Buoyed by their overwhelming numbers surrounding the intruder, their morale soared.
Right up until that moment!
Shrrk—
Jin Ga-yong charged ahead, drawing at invisible speed. The lead guard's neck suddenly vanished in a magician's trick.
The severed head sailed high into the darkness.
Magic's mundane once you know the trick—but utterly bewildering when you don't.
The encircling guards stood dumbfounded. In that gap, Jin Ga-yong's sword darted forth at the same unseen velocity.
Shrk—shrrk—
Dozens of crimson threads sprouted from the ground, then scattered into a red mist. It began drifting down, shrouding the gruesome slaughter scene.