Chapter 213
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Face Pursuit Elite Squad (4)
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Long ago, before Flying Tiger had joined the Face Pursuit Squad, he had infiltrated the manor where the Six Jia Gate was staying in an attempt to capture the third of the Fufeng Four Heroes. There, he had encountered and fought several individuals he suspected to be part of the Ghost Mask gang.
When Flying Tiger later recounted the incident to Gong Won-yeong, she had assessed it like this.
"From what I hear, their actions seem half-baked compared to the skills they possess. Of course, that might stand out because their opponent was you. In any case, they're disqualified as assassins. Why is that?"
"Well... maybe because they're not actually assassins?"
"Exactly. At least that's my guess. They're originally martial artists, not professional killers. Someone just layered assassin training onto them for a specific purpose."
And now, the foes Flying Tiger faced gave off a similar vibe to that bunch. Of course, this was just a feeling, not a fact.
But didn't the circumstances point that way?
Flying Tiger's group had chased the Ghost Mask gang all the way to this remote northern city in Gansu Province, a place they had no prior ties to. Then, these strange assailants appeared right on cue and ambushed them. So even without relying on gut instinct, it was reasonable to suspect these hoodlums were the very Ghost Mask crew they were after.
Once Flying Tiger's suspicions reached that point, further questions followed.
"How did the Ghost Mask gang know we were tracking them? And how did Sa-myo end up as their target? Hmm, but Sa-myo... he resembles those guys too, doesn't he?"
Not just Sa-myo, but all of the Ten Cats—including the Great Black Cat, known as Gwak Nan-hoe's right-hand—bore an uncanny resemblance to the assailants who had ambushed Flying Tiger's group at just this moment. Their distinctive auras were so similar that if you slapped black night clothes and masks on them, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
Because of that, Flying Tiger had once suspected the Ten Cats might be part of the Ghost Mask gang. Of course, logic had dismissed it as nonsense, so he'd erased the hypothesis from his mind.
But now these suspicious Ghost Mask fiends were relentlessly trying to assassinate Sa-myo. Could there be some connection between the two groups after all?
"What if the Ten Cats really are the Ghost Mask gang, and they were trying to eliminate Sa-myo for betraying them?"
Flying Tiger shook his head.
"No, that's still a stretch. Anyway, once we capture one of those bastards and interrogate him, something will turn up, right?"
Flying Tiger leaped down from the stone pagoda and dashed off somewhere.
By now, his comrades at the inn had split into two teams of three, searching the area. Jin Ga-yong and Na Baek were leading them respectively. So if he sent a signal now, they'd join him in no time.
Flying Tiger knew this full well but held off. Not only would it waste time waiting for them to arrive, but sending the signal would also reveal his position to his target at the same moment.
That wasn't what he wanted. Chasing someone who knew they had a tail and bolted was always exhausting.
The time it took to sip a cup of tea and refill it passed.
In that span, Flying Tiger had left the city, passed through the lush green zone, and now faced a world of ochre earth. The stark contrast between the two colors was muted in the darkness, but regardless, he had entered a desert terrain dotted with rugged rocks and sparse weeds.
He had been tailing the six assailants, including his target, for a while now.
He had considered striking earlier, but hoping to uncover their backers or base, he had simply followed. Now, he was torn, unable to decide.
Should he keep tailing them?
Or strike here, grab the target, and call it done?
For starters, this Jangyeok had no bases or backers of theirs. If it did, they wouldn't have fled the city like this. Moreover, they were now mounting horses hidden outside the city, preparing to ride off into the distance.
Hence the dilemma.
Normally, Flying Tiger's temperament would have led him to tail them without hesitation. Even if it took time, leisurely tracking them after they left would eventually reveal their lair. Success meant gauging their numbers and strength firsthand, and with a bit of luck, he could rally his team for a preemptive strike.
But time was the issue.
With no clue when the Ghost Mask gang might strike, Flying Tiger and his team needed to reach the Jin family as soon as possible. In the worst case, if these were just a side branch and the main force was already pounding the Jin clan while he interrogated these goons, what then?
Besides, they already had at least one prisoner to question, and once Sa-myo woke, they could hear the full story from him. With leads in hand, risking extra time on potential dangers felt burdensome.
His instincts urged him to tail them, while his reason tugged at his ankle, insisting he grab only the initial target and head back.
"Instinct or reason... so which do I choose?"
Flying Tiger gazed at the parched earth, the dunes beyond, and the icy mountains farther still. Overwhelmed by the vast nature, his mind reeled, judgment clouding as indescribable emotions surged. To avoid further delay, he decided to follow reason.
It was a kind of defiance.
And once decided, whatever the reason, Flying Tiger wasted no more time.
Thud thud.
He crested a hill of large rocks, gravel, and sand fragments. On the other side, he spotted men mounting horses and others just climbing on. Six in total—the assailants he had been chasing.
"Huh, that guy's..."
The hoodlums were all startled; one muttered lowly, and two others reached for swords at their waists.
Then the leader among those already mounted—the one Flying Tiger had targeted—shouted.
"Ignore him. He has no horse, so we leave him behind."
The hoodlums' leader had essentially said, "Let's just bolt," in the longest way possible.
Evidently, discipline was tight. At the order, the two who had been about to engage Flying Tiger released their sword hilts without protest, swiftly mounted, and spurred their horses after their fleeing comrades.
Flying Tiger was midway down the hill, the gap to the fleeing hoodlums a mere ten jang—about thirty meters.
Thud thud thud—
Each hoofbeat kicked up clouds of pale dust that layered and billowed thickly.
Flying Tiger plunged through the rising dust clouds in pursuit.
Humans were inherently slower than horses. This held true even for most martial artists. Of course, the jianghu teemed with eccentrics who were exceptions, but Flying Tiger wasn't one. That said, in short bursts factoring in explosive acceleration, the story changed.
Crack.
As he sprinted, Flying Tiger summoned lightning qi and channeled it to the Bubbling Spring Acupoint in the center hollow of his sole.
In an instant, his form accelerated like a loosed arrow, the wind-whistling tailing behind like a fluttering flag.
Whoosh~
By then, the hoodlums' horses had hit full gallop. They thought they'd shaken their pursuer; the rearmost glanced back to check Flying Tiger's position, relieved.
Thwack.
Just then, the rope dart hurtling at his nape smashed into the turning hoodlum's face.
In the end, whether the sharp point pierced the skull or burst the orbital bone, the result was the same. But did identical destinations mean identical paths? The half-exploded face was an eyesore.
And an agonized death cry rang out.
"Gah!"
Flying Tiger, having closed the gap in one breath and hurled the rope dart, yanked the line taut and leaped aboard.
The dead hoodlum tumbled from the saddle, rolled, and vanished into the dust clouds.
Flying Tiger took his place and gave chase to the fleeing hoodlums ahead, entering the real hunt.
Thud thud thud—
"Come to think of it, they've got all sorts of top-notch gear, don't they? Not like your average bandit crew—more like an elite unit from a prestigious sect."
Flying Tiger muttered in admiration.
Which gear? The balanced daggers from their assassination attempt, the flawless disguises, even the black night clothes—all premium gear. The horses they rode now, and the equipment on them, too. Like the high-quality bows and arrows prepped for mounted combat.
"All the more reason to be grateful."
Saying so, Flying Tiger nocked an arrow, then began loosing them while riding.
Ping— ping— ping—
Three shots, and one lead hoodlum took an arrow to the back, tumbling from the saddle. He too vanished into the dust.
The enemies began returning fire. But shooting backward while galloping was no easy feat. Astonishingly, they managed a passable imitation. Evidently well-trained for it.
Thus, a brief mounted archery duel ensued between the sides.
Ping— ping— ping— ping— ping—
But imitation and results were worlds apart. Hitting a cunningly maneuvering target demanded even higher skill.
For that reason, the enemies' shots went wildly astray.
Flying Tiger, meanwhile, closed and widened distance repeatedly before downing another hoodlum.
Only then did the enemies concede this fight was unwinnable.
Flying Tiger was clearly the superior archer, even accounting for his comfortable rear position. Not a master bowman, but far from amateur. Worse, his horsemanship outclassed theirs by miles.
How could they shake him like this? Continuing the mounted farce meant annihilation.
So the enemy leader made a call.
"Scatter!"
The remaining four split left and right in pairs. Naturally, Flying Tiger stuck to his target, the leader, veering right.
The left pair bolted outright. Circling back to flank? Unthinkable. Survival for one to report this debacle to their superiors was all they hoped for.
By now, in the hoodlums' eyes, Flying Tiger—from the inn in Jangyeok to this relentless pursuit gnawing at their rear—looked like a demon bursting from hell.
Thud thud thud—
The right pair, including the leader, whipped their foaming, collapsing horses into a desperate sprint.
The gap between Flying Tiger and them widened briefly. He couldn't match their pace lest his own mount collapse soon, forcing a long walk back after dealing with them.
The duo's final choice was a sheer cliff in the desert heart, riddled with rugged rocks forming a maze-like terrain. Abandoning their fallen horses, they slipped inside to prepare for what might be their last stand.