Chapter 193
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 193
Chapter Title: 53. Whisper of the Ghost (2)
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Jwa Eung-gi seemed clueless about the Turtle Shell. Or maybe he had deliberately held back. Just like how he hadn't come clean about the true identity of the serial killer Ghost Face.
And Flying Tiger didn't bother pressing him further. It felt pointless to dig deeper. Instead, he decided to probe into Ye Hoe of the Heavenly Pursuit Spear.
Of course, he wasn't convinced Ye Hoe was a fake Ghost Face. But the man was suspicious enough—and even if not, the circumstances suggested he knew the fake's identity. And even if there was no connection at all, all the tracking they'd done so far ought to turn up at least one clue.
With that, their conversation was drawing to a close.
"Jwa Eung-gi, if you have any last words, speak them now."
"Last words... I'll watch from hell. And wait. To see how all of you meet your ruin."
It was a curse.
But Flying Tiger just nodded without so much as a frown.
Honestly, he couldn't wrap his head around it. How could this bastard, who'd stabbed recklessly into another's gut, have the gall to resent them? It struck him as utterly shameless. Still, with the man about to be sent off, Flying Tiger had no desire to argue the point.
After all, farewells were best kept short.
"So be it."
With those words, Flying Tiger swung the Dark Gold Blade gripped in his hand, severing Jwa Eung-gi's head in one clean stroke.
Thud.
The body lingered for a moment before he picked up the head and vanished.
Yulin Pavilion was in chaos again, following last night's uproar. And the shock of this incident hit ten times harder than the day before.
The owner and all his guard warriors—wiped out completely. How could it not?
The people of Yulin Pavilion felt not grief or rage at their master's death, but bewilderment and dread.
The assassin they'd searched for all day without a trace—whom they'd assumed had already fled—had returned. And in less than an incense stick's time, he'd slaughtered everyone. The patrol teams circled the grounds every half hour at least, so that was the logical conclusion. The fact that it all happened in such a short span was terrifying enough. But that no one in Yulin Pavilion had noticed during the massacre? Chills ran down their spines.
And that was hardly the end of it.
I write these few words to warn the tyrants and console those unjustly slain.
Jwa Eung-gi is mine to take. He formed a secret group called Choeojin to topple the Martial Qin Alliance's order. Regardless of his cause's merits, he butchered innocents—even helpless women and children. This is his reckoning.
Take the Goseok Mountain Manor massacre as prime example.
These wretches allied with serial killers who mimic ghosts to carry out slaughters. They claim they never wielded a blade themselves, but lending a hand is still a death sentence.
You who provoke heaven's fury.
By this, I warn you all who wickedly trade on the ghost's name: soon, you will plummet to hell!
It was a warning scrawled in Jwa Eung-gi's own blood on the wall beside the bed where his corpse lay. The source was obvious: his neck had been severed clean, leaving a pool of congealed blood where his head should have been.
Jwa Eung-gi's owl crew from the Filial Guard Unit couldn't shake off the shock.
The Elite Guard Unit that had rotated in yesterday afternoon, however, sprang into action. They went fully armed, tightened security, and gathered leaders to discuss countermeasures.
Yet the head of the table wasn't held by the Elite Guard's deputy commander, but by the Council of Elders' vice head. Naturally—his rank was highest. The Elite Guard deputy who had led four squads here sat at the far end, as he was the lowest ranked of the five present.
When trouble hit Yulin Pavilion, the faction supporting the Pavilion Master and checking Jwa Eung-gi saw their chance. They had quietly dispatched their top available forces.
Thus, each of the four Elite Guard squads included two or three of the Pavilion Master's personal guards. Overall strength was bolstered.
"Things are turning amusing. Like picking our nose without lifting a finger?"
"Watch your words. Jwa the elder is still our Pavilion Master's sworn brother, after all. If it were infighting among us, fine—but this manner of death? I don't buy it."
"Ah, I spoke rashly. My apologies."
As the mood stiffened, a man from Intelligence stepped forward.
"The vice head is right. This concerns Hanzhong Fortress's face, doesn't it? Which means we must capture the assassin alive if possible."
"Hm, capture? Given his handiwork, executing him won't be easy either."
"We have to bear some losses if needed. He seems to know Jwa the elder's secrets—well worth it."
"So you think Jwa was truly involved in the Goseok Mountain Manor massacre?"
"High likelihood. When the investigation started, several elders loyal to him obstructed it."
"Well, now..."
Murmurs rose here and there, but the vice head called for attention and asked the Intelligence man,
"Anyway, finding the assassin comes first. Can't capture or kill what we can't locate, right?"
"Yes."
"Very well, but what's your plan?"
"As you all know, the assassin's holed up inside Yulin Pavilion. A rat in a trap, you might say. But the trap's vast, and the rat's a master at hiding—no tail in sight. That's the issue."
Everyone nodded in shared frustration.
But why were they so sure the assassin was still inside Yulin Pavilion?
There was a reason.
Yulin Pavilion's exits were said to be just the front gate's waterway and the rear gorge path.
With its reputation as the Three Grottoes of Kyoto, secret passages might exist inside. But even Hanzhong Fortress's intelligence couldn't find any—unlikely an outsider assassin would know them.
The front waterway was effectively blocked. Boats had to navigate the Han River, but even seasoned ferrymen wouldn't brave it at night. Checks confirmed no boats had departed since yesterday afternoon.
That left only the rear gorge path—the assassin's entry route.
New Elite Guard members had sealed it off since dusk yesterday, watching like hawks. Not even an ant could slip through.
Thus, "rat in a trap" meant they'd corked the one exit.
"So my plan is to leave it be."
"What? Leave it?"
"Yes. Think the Filial Guard's owls couldn't find the rat after searching all day? I doubt we'd do better stirring things up. Better to just hold the passes tight—no escapes. Save our strength. At least until dawn."
"Dawn brings a solution?"
"We messaged HQ right after the incident. Just got confirmation via messenger bird: a hundred warriors, including specialist trackers, arriving by boat at dawn."
"...!"
The Elite Guard deputy voiced concern.
"Won't Yulin Pavilion resist?"
"Who?"
"Pardon?"
"With Jwa the elder gone, who in Yulin Pavilion dares object? The owls are suspects themselves—due for detention and questioning."
"Suspects?"
"Yes. How else could he hide so perfectly or commit the crime without inside help?"
"Ho~ So that means..."
"Exactly. Not just the assassin—no one, not even the owl masks, leaves. That's our job. But to avoid backlash, we stay subtle until our reinforcements arrive."
"..."
One phrase echoed in everyone's minds.
Net them all in one sweep.
The entire Filial Guard crew would be hauled in as suspects. Criminal or not, none would walk out on their own two feet again. And this would spark a massive purge.
The Elite Guard handled things quietly, exercising restraint. But plans were just plans—before dawn, plenty happened. Many in the Filial Guard realized they were in deep trouble.
Credit to Flying Tiger. Hadn't he spelled it out in blood on the wall? Every detail—from Choeojin to Goseok Mountain Manor. How could they not fear for their future?
Before dawn, the owl crew attempted escape nonstop. Leaderless, they scattered, each fending for themselves. Most were nabbed by Elite Guards; some resisted and died on the spot.
Not all failed, though.
Three Grottoes of Kyoto, after all. A few owls knew secret passages beyond the waterway and gorge.
And Flying Tiger slipped out without issue.
As expected, he'd hidden in a pre-scouted spot, watching Yulin Pavilion's frenzy. He picked out a few suspicious figures amid the traffic and tailed them to uncover the secret path.
Then, donning an owl mask, he secured a watermelon-sized bundle to his belt. Geared up, he strolled out via the secret passage.
It was the tail end of the fourth watch—perfect, with all creation deep in slumber. But from the dense woods afar came curses, clashing steel, screams mingling in the gloom.
Flying Tiger stood still, listening, then looked skyward. Thick clouds hid every star.
"Rain coming?"
He shook his head regretfully. This marked the end of the Zhao Family Manor's commission—the moment his debt was cleared.
With a lighter heart, he departed.
Shwaaa—
Rain fell all that day.