Chapter 212
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Chapter 58. Face Pursuit Elite Squad (3)
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Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
The inn's doors flew open one after another, and members of Jeong Squad and Eul Squad rushed into the hallway, weapons in hand.
Whiiist~
Flying Tiger, who had climbed onto the roof, let out a clear, resounding whistle. It was a signal announcing his position and alerting them that the enemies were inside the inn.
The two thugs on the rooftop exchanged a brief glance.
Time to bail now that things had gone south?
The next instant, they split in opposite directions. One headed toward the inn's inner courtyard, while the other bolted toward the outer street lined with windows.
Thud thud thud.
Without hesitation, Flying Tiger pursued the one heading for the courtyard.
The pursued thug whipped around and hurled a throwing star at him.
Flying Tiger dodged by hurling himself to the left, evading the incoming star. In the process, he rolled across the rooftop, and the tiles crushed beneath his weight went crack crack~ as they shattered.
Then, Flying Tiger dropped straight down below the eaves.
……?
The thug was momentarily baffled, wondering what the hell that was. He had just thrown the star and was drawing a dart in each hand, poised to charge at Flying Tiger.
So what was that about?
In truth, Flying Tiger hadn't tumbled off the roof. He'd rolled clear of it.
And right before dropping vertically, he'd reached out, grabbed the eave's edge, and swung his body inward toward the inn with a spin.
His landing spot was the second-floor hallway of the inn, right in front of his own room, whose door had conveniently swung wide open at that moment.
In other words, Flying Tiger had slipped out the window, climbed onto the roof, crossed over to the opposite side's second-floor hallway, entered through the door, and returned to his own room.
Why go to such lengths...?
As Flying Tiger burst into the room, there was someone just now trying to break in through the window. It was the black-clad thug who had split off toward the street side from the rooftop moments earlier.
The thugs weren't fleeing after failing to assassinate their injured comrade Sa-myo. They were trying to finish the job.
So if Flying Tiger had chased the one fleeing toward the outer street, that thug would have turned back on the roof to engage him. Meanwhile, the one heading to the courtyard would have infiltrated Flying Tiger's room to eliminate Sa-myo.
It was a two-pronged ploy, of sorts.
But all schemes come to naught against a master plan.
Flying Tiger had instantly seen through their trick and turned it against them, resulting in an outcome worse than no ploy at all. At least they wouldn't have gone down without a fight.
The thug, caught mid-entry through the window with nowhere to go, now faced Flying Tiger charging at him like a bolt of lightning. What could he do in such a bind? All he managed was to swing the dart in his hand, his face a mask of disbelief.
Flying Tiger drew his guandao and slashed twice in quick, short bursts. He was accounting for the indoor space. Even so, his guandao's superior reach made it plenty fun against the thug's darts.
He first sliced the thug's ankle as he stepped into the room, then parried the dart swing and gashed his wrist.
Slash slash.
Then Flying Tiger closed in tight and thrust deep into the thug's chest. It missed the heart just enough not to kill. But in terms of pain? It had to feel like death.
The masked thug rolled his eyes back and groaned.
"Huuuh……."
The moment Flying Tiger subdued one, the urgent clash of blades rang out from the rooftop.
Golden-eyed Na-baek, the first to respond to Flying Tiger's shout and dash outside, had climbed to the roof and engaged the thug Flying Tiger had left behind.
Then Eul Squad and Jeong Squad members poured out after him, and one entered Flying Tiger's room.
It was Iron Palm Dan-geum.
"What happened?"
"Ambush! Sa-myo's been hit. The wounds are bad—call a physician. I'll leave the rest to you."
Flying Tiger said this as he dragged the unconscious thug inside like a sack of trash. He added, "If you're still curious, wake this one up and ask." Then he leaped out the window to the street below.
These weren't the only guests tonight. When Flying Tiger whistled, they'd scattered in all directions—and they were no ordinary runners. Leaving them be would just mean they'd come back to hassle him soon enough. So before they all vanished, he planned to track down and thin their numbers, one by one.
If they poked the bear, he'd strike back first!
Questions could wait.
At that moment, Dan-geum poked his head out the window Flying Tiger had jumped from.
"What about reinforcements?"
"Urgent. I'll head ahead and cut them off at the ankles. Tell the squad leader to handle it. Tighten security in case of another raid."
With that, Flying Tiger dashed off.
Reinforcements would make it solid, but any delay and they'd all escape.
So...!
As Flying Tiger turned into an alley, a dark gray wall seemed to shed its skin, and another thug popped out from hiding. He hurled a dagger at Flying Tiger's back as he passed.
Whoosh.
It was an unexpected ambush for Flying Tiger too.
He'd anticipated counterattacks during the chase, but this was right around the corner from the inn—barely sixty meters away.
Despite the surprise, Flying Tiger reacted swiftly. The thug's ambush was textbook clean, no frills, but the camouflage cloak he'd hidden under had rustled with a faint flap as he shed it. Flying Tiger had reacted to the sound on instinct.
He leaned left, left hand slapping the ground, and the dagger whistled past by a hair's breadth. Then he pushed off with that hand.
Shhhk—thud.
Flying Tiger slid away in a crouch, flipping to face his attacker.
The black-clad thug was charging with shortsword drawn. He aimed to finish before Flying Tiger could fully reset from the ambush.
The next instant.
The thug lunged with a thrust, but Flying Tiger sprang back and deflected it with his guandao.
Not giving ground, the thug pressed in close, unleashing a flurry of shortsword strikes. Flying Tiger retreated, swinging to fend him off.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang—
Suddenly, the thug shot his left hand out and grabbed the flat of the guandao. A bold gain from his aggressive rush.
The thug's eyes gleamed triumphantly, as if shouting, "Now die!" He twisted the guandao flat with his left while stabbing at Flying Tiger's jawline with the shortsword in his right.
Grip. Slash.
…Huh?
The thug staggered back, reeling. His eyes brimmed with disbelief, left hand still clutching the guandao. And embedded in his jawline was a needle sword!
The moment before, Flying Tiger had let go of the guandao as the thug tried to wrest it away. Instead, he'd seized the thug's wrist holding the thrusting shortsword. At the same time, he'd launched the rope dart from his left wrist, stabbing it into the thug's throat.
Thud.
Flying Tiger yanked the rope dart's line, and the staggering, dying thug toppled forward, dragged across the ground.
Flying Tiger stomped the thug's left hand, grinding until it shattered open and released the guandao. He then flicked it up with his foot and caught it, reclaiming his temporarily loaned blade.
'An ambush right under my nose... Did I look that easy? How'd he know I'd come?'
Flying Tiger kicked off the wall, leaping onto the fence top. He scanned around, then his eyes flashed.
'Found you!'
They'd infiltrated enemy territory for an assassination and failed, now reduced to fleeing.
Yet one hid right in front of them to ambush the pursuer?
Foolhardy.
For all they knew, any number of enemies could swarm out. Why risk a solo ambush for some big score?
That was why Flying Tiger hadn't seen it coming.
Of course, in a case like his—someone pissed off charging out alone—it wasn't meaningless. A success could demoralize the foes and slow their pursuit.
But that hinged on one premise.
Coming out alone.
If multiples showed? They'd bolt ASAP.
To make this more efficient, wouldn't there be a spotter relaying enemy movements and signals for attack or retreat?
Flying Tiger climbed high to scan, zeroing in on the five-story stone pagoda atop the hill—a spot with a clear view all around. Sure enough, someone was up on the pagoda's top, watching this way.
The post-midnight city streets were deserted, the darkened alleys twisting like a maze. But it posed no real obstacle for Flying Tiger.
Dead end? Vault it. Tricky spot? Leap roof to roof. Plenty of hiding places? Just watch those spots.
And one more thing.
Decisively, someone was signaling him unwittingly. That's why he ran without restraint, just silencing his presence and footsteps like a cat.
Flicker.
Racing along the fence, Flying Tiger spotted a light flash from the hilltop.
The signal.
He melted into the fence's shadow, and soon the stone path buckled as another black-clad thug emerged.
The thug stared in bewilderment at the empty fence, unaware of the black shadow rising silently behind him.
Flying Tiger quietly slit his throat and laid him back down. He covered the body with the shed camouflage cloak and resumed his run.
The whole thing was swift, without a single off-note.
'Even in retreat, they weren't going quietly? Pride stung?'
Flying Tiger reached the hilltop signal spot. Less than fifteen minutes since leaving the inn. The pagoda was empty—realizing too late, the spotter had fled in haste.
But it didn't matter.
His real target was already within range.
Flying Tiger scaled the pagoda, scanning from nearby to far afield. Great for monitoring the inn, perfect for spotting escapees too.
In the process, he pondered the thugs he'd faced and whoever commanded them.
Too skilled for mere assassins. Too assassin-like for proper martial artists—a waste of talent.
Amateurish, somehow.
Like ill-fitting clothes. That incongruity nagged at him.
And he'd felt this before.
From whom...?
Flying Tiger stared into the distance, muttering in a flat voice.
"Looks like I've found the right one."