Chapter 188
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 188
Chapter Title: 51. Lightning Flash (8)
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The spear slammed into the ground, kicking up a thick cloud of dust. Hyung Woo-saeng, who had been flung into the air, came crashing down like a bird shot dead mid-flight, blood spraying everywhere.
One of the elite squad members who saw it let out an awed "Whoa~!" Then, as if responding in kind, someone from the rear cried out in alarm, "Ah!"
Gong Son-hwang had tumbled backward onto the ground as well. He'd just hurled the spear and had no time to dodge the incoming boulder, so in desperation, he threw up his left arm to block. The impact sent him rolling ignobly, his arm broken and dangling limp. He was dazed for the moment but had saved his life.
At that instant, Hyung Woo-saeng—who they'd thought was dead—sprang back up and charged ahead like a wild boar scorched by lightning.
The elite squad members swung their swords at him in startled fury, but he ignored them completely, barreling straight into the passage.
"Grab that bastard!"
Someone shouted the order, and three squad members gave chase. But they didn't get far before halting in their tracks.
Thud~ Thud~ Roll~
A severed head came bouncing out of the passage, tumbling right toward them. It belonged to one of their comrades who had scaled the cliff for a pincer attack. In his haste, he'd left his body behind and rushed ahead to "reunite" with his fellows—head first.
Gulp.
One of the squad members who'd stopped swallowed hard, eyes darting nervously to the others.
...
"What the hell possessed you to come back here?"
"Ah, I remembered something I'd left behind on the way."
"Damn it, you lunatic. What do we do if they come swarming?"
Hyung Woo-saeng stared at So Myeong-rang in utter disbelief as he scolded him.
Neither of them looked human anymore.
In that short time, So Myeong-rang had done who-knows-what; the cloth tied around his thigh was soaked not just red but a vivid crimson with pus oozing down in rivulets. His left hand was little more than shredded rags, ragged beyond recognition.
Hyung Woo-saeng was no better off. He was covered in gashes here and there, and the spear graze along his side left him unable to straighten his back. He looked like he could collapse at any moment without it seeming strange.
"Hmph. If they've still got the balls to chase us after that thrashing..."
"Then what?"
"What else? I'd happily hand over my head."
"Ha~ You look like fair game for whoever grabs first, yet you say it like some grand gesture of mercy? Our little brother's got more nerve than I gave him credit for."
They bickered like that, spouting casual banter as they supported each other in their flight. There were truly no options left now. If they didn't keep talking, they'd lose their minds and pass out.
Sure enough, while fleeing in a haze of delirium, So Myeong-rang suddenly clamped his mouth shut. Anxious, Hyung Woo-saeng spoke up.
"Myeong-rang."
"...Yes?"
"Didn't you say earlier you'd dropped something?"
"Ah... that?"
"Yeah, that. You grab it?"
"I went back for it—think I'd leave empty-handed?"
"What was it?"
"It's right here beside me."
...
Hyung Woo-saeng and So Myeong-rang's escape wasn't pure luck.
Of the nine fierce hounds, seven lay dead. The elite squad, which had numbered nearly thirty, had suffered casualties approaching two-thirds. Excluding the dead, the severely wounded outnumbered the able-bodied—and that included Deputy Commander Gong Son-hwang himself.
With no commander left to take responsibility for the devastating blow, pursuit was obviously the smart play with high odds of success, but no one stepped up. They just exchanged glances until the chase fizzled out half-heartedly. Their status as reinforcements dispatched from Hanzhong Fortress—rather than locals under Jwa Eung-gi—played a role too.
In the end, two hours later, Hyung Woo-saeng and So Myeong-rang mounted horses and slipped away safely. An hour after that, they escaped Hanzhong Fortress territory entirely. On the brink of death, they hid in a nearby village warehouse and collapsed.
It was somewhere around the hour of the tiger, between three and five in the morning.
Both knew full well that closing their eyes now might mean never opening them again. But they had no further worries or complaints. Content at last to simply rest, they drifted into sleep.
When the pursuing elite squad straggled back looking like routed remnants, Yulinwon erupted in chaos. Torches flickered everywhere in the compound, and everyone stood guard sleepless through the night, weapons at the ready.
At dawn, the Shadow Path Squad—made up mainly of Hyo Pa-gyeong's warriors—launched a massive search. There had been three intruders the night before, two of whom escaped. Logically, one might still be lurking in Yulinwon. They combed every inch and eventually unearthed a buried corpse. It was one of Hyo Pa-gyeong's warriors, owl mask removed.
Presumably, the culprits had interrogated the dead man to extract some info on Yulinwon. Opinions split here.
They'd achieved their goal, so they'd likely fled by now—expand the search radius.
No, they might be baiting us to stay hidden inside—keep scouring thoroughly.
The Shadow Path Squad settled on searching Yulinwon and its surroundings exhaustively. Everyone turned the place upside down like plowing a field. But no more mice turned up, and as time passed, conviction grew: the intruders were long gone.
By afternoon, the already tense atmosphere boiled over further.
With so many dead overnight, they had no choice but to report to Hanzhong Fortress. Soon, four new platoons arrived under a new elite squad deputy commander—all men poached by the Zhu household. Under pretense of investigation, they probed for internal intel, clashing incessantly with the Shadow Path Squad over the overreach. Chaos ensued.
Amid it all, the few surviving fierce hounds—shocked by their comrades' deaths?—bared teeth and barked at anyone, turning the mood into utter pandemonium.
As the noisy afternoon faded with sunset and dusk fell, things at least appeared to calm on the surface.
And night arrived.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
A dog barked viciously from afar in the darkness. One Shadow Path Squad owl mask on patrol spat in disgust.
"Ptoo— Those damn rabid mutts. They're driving me insane too."
"Heh heh heh, maybe the survivors are singing a round for their fallen. I get the sentiment, but don't lose your head. I don't fancy getting flogged alongside you."
His patrolling comrade replied, and the spitter grumbled "Tch" with a sour face but shut up. He hated to admit it, but it was sound advice.
The pair was on patrol as one of this shift's platoons. Ahead, very dangerous figures stood sentry. Cross them, and a flogging was guaranteed. Not all owl masks were equal.
Crunch crunch.
"Halt. What's the purpose?"
"Just checking if all's clear."
"On patrol? You were just here less than half an hour ago."
"Uh... Our platoon leader says we need random checks, so he sent us."
"Who's your platoon leader?"
"Third Platoon, sir. Song family elder."
"Elder my ass. Song sent you, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Got it. Tell 'em inside's fine. Wait—before you go, remove your masks."
"Pardon?"
"Curious what you look like."
"Eh? But we have a rule—no removing masks..."
"Tch tch tch, so what? Want me to do it for you?"
The flustered patroller hesitated until his comrade nudged his shoulder and removed his own mask first. The other followed suit, lifting his to reveal his face.
Ordinary mugs—rough and villainous, the kind anyone would peg as criminals. Nothing special for owl masks; perfectly average.
A deep voice rumbled from behind the gatekeeper.
"No offense. After last night, we suspect the intruder killed an owl and stole his mask, so we're verifying. Good work—now relay my regards to old man Song."
"Yes, sir."
Dismissed, the patrollers yanked their masks back down and scurried off.
The gate owl tsked, disappointed.
"Spineless lot. If ordered not to remove, they should've stuck to their guns no matter what. They bare a bit of killing intent and whip 'em off. Kids these days got no grit. Tch, was gonna toy with 'em a bit to kill time. Damn."
"......"
"You too, senior. How can you be so mild-mannered? Word is, back in the day, you had a real temper... Hm? Senior? You listening?"
The "senior" wasn't listening to his self-proclaimed junior owl. More precisely, he couldn't.
Realizing too late, the junior owl posed a foolish question.
'Who are you?'
But the words never left his mouth—the assassin gripping him from behind had clamped it shut and slit his throat with a dagger.
Gurk.
The junior owl's eyes glazed over as he crumpled, a final question flashing in his mind, swirling chaotically.
'When the hell...'
The assassin was Flying Tiger. He'd hidden all day, resuming activity as darkness returned.
Naturally, his target was Jwa Eung-gi. This was the entrance to the spot he'd pegged as the man's hideout. After waiting, he struck the moment the patrol passed.
It had been exactly one day since interrogating Geomancer Im Wan-baek and learning of the Stone Petrifying Spear.
Flying Tiger had observed from predawn through the entire day.
From members' routines and behaviors to every nook of Yulinwon, he'd memorized it all.
Possible in just one day because they'd torn the place apart hunting him.
Thanks to that, he learned of hidey-holes like dog flaps and their connections. He also glimpsed their discipline, unique culture, and guard rotations.
And more.
The few remaining fierce hounds feared Flying Tiger to the point of derangement. Every encounter, a mere glare broke their spirits, leaving them pissing themselves.
The new elite squad inadvertently cleared space for him too. Locked in standoff with the Shadow Path Squad, an unspoken boundary formed between them.
In short, no one could hinder Flying Tiger roaming Yulinwon anymore.