Chapter 41
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Chapter 12. The Ring of Fate (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A duel was supposed to start with proper etiquette—names exchanged first, then swords drawn to test each other's skill.
But this guy!
Zhao Baek-bing was visibly flustered.
Even so, her body reacted on instinct, separate from her thoughts. She leaped back, swiftly drawing her sword to parry Flying Tiger's downward strike.
Clang!
The sword deflected the blade with a crisp ring.
"What the hel...!"
Zhao Baek-bing started to scold him in an angry voice but clamped her mouth shut. Flying Tiger's deflected blade spun in midair, thrusting toward her abdomen.
A chill ran down her spine.
She took another step back, slashing her sword diagonally to knock away the incoming stab.
Clang.
The blade flew off again.
Seizing the momentum, Flying Tiger spun around, unleashing a powerful horizontal slash.
Whoosh!
Zhao Baek-bing staggered back two more steps, helpless. She had no chance for a counterattack, not even time to vent her frustration. Flying Tiger pressed relentlessly.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang!
Her retreating footsteps grew chaotic in an instant, and Flying Tiger's blade crashed down heavily upon them.
'Damn it.'
Dodging too late, Zhao Baek-bing gritted her teeth and met his slash at an angle.
Flying Tiger's blade slid along her sword's edge, scraping downward.
Grind!
Click.
The tip caught on the round metal guard—known as the "bridge"—between her hilt and blade. She'd deflected it, softening the impact.
With a shout, Zhao Baek-bing twisted his blade away and leaped back.
Thus ended the first clash between Flying Tiger and Zhao Baek-bing, begun with his surprise attack.
Huff, huff.
Zhao Baek-bing's face flushed like a drunkard's as she panted heavily.
Far from calming, her body trembled like an aspen leaf, every hair standing on end. Unable to hold it in, she dashed to the wall and vomited.
Flying Tiger watched her silently, replaying and savoring their exchange.
'I hammered her until her mind went blank, so she reacted purely on training. That clash revealed the swordsmanship of Ye Mountain's Zhao Family Manor? Hmm, impressive.'
To him, the Zhao Family's style felt mountainously heavy—swift as wind when advancing, vanishing like mist when withdrawing.
It hid sharpness within the subtleties of a mid-weight sword.
Finishing his mental review, Flying Tiger called out to Zhao Baek-bing, crouched in the corner.
"Feeling better? Want me to thump your back?"
At his gut-turning words, Zhao Baek-bing snapped upright, glaring daggers at him.
"You thug! Coward!"
Flying Tiger nodded.
Her fiery temper showed she was recovering.
"If you're mad, let's go another round."
"Of course!"
Zhao Baek-bing stormed over, bristling, but her strides had eased by thirty percent, shoulders and wrists relaxed. Ready to bolt or wield her sword freely at any moment.
She was bracing for another ambush—far more like a true jianghu fighter than before.
As she closed to ten paces, Flying Tiger stared her down, tapping his hilt with index and middle fingers: tap-tap. She looked poised to strike too, so this was his warning.
'Rush in sloppily, and you'll get hurt.'
She froze.
Frowning like a crescent moon, Zhao Baek-bing halted, and Flying Tiger asked again.
"One more time. Can you really handle it?"
The two locked eyes.
Zhao Baek-bing bit her lip, fuming.
It stung. His cheap trick let her swing once before she was dragged along and the exchange ended anticlimactically.
But...
She sighed, lowering her sword.
"Fine, I admit it. No need for more. I lost."
Flying Tiger whistled shortly.
He was impressed inwardly. At her spirited age, coldly assessing and accepting reality wasn't easy. Her fierce gaze proved she wasn't broken.
Her resolve was rock-solid. Their bout showed solid fundamentals, especially her final move, which even impressed him.
Overall, she was like a sword fully forged, needing only sharpening. Dull now, but once honed, Zhao Family Manor would gain another master swordswoman.
"Good. So you acknowledge I'm qualified to stand by your senior brother Jin?"
"Yes. Sorry for mouthing off without knowing my place. And..."
"And?"
"What was that earlier?"
The "qualification" Flying Tiger mentioned was what she'd thrown at him at dawn to pick a fight—the excuse for their duel.
Her "that earlier" asked why his assault left her nauseous and vomiting, what technique caused it.
"I'll tell you. But in return, grant me one favor?"
"Why should I?"
"You were rude, questioning my qualification. Think a simple 'sorry' covers it?"
"What is it?"
"Let's have a drink."
Zhao Baek-bing blinked at the unexpected request, tilting her head at him.
"Are you hitting on me right now?"
"Before leaving, maybe I should earn my keep. So, Manor Lord, how should I handle your junior sister?"
It was afternoon when Flying Tiger had asked Jin Ga-yong.
His intent: fight all-out, or go easy?
Jin Ga-yong's answer: "Well!"
"Well?"
"Yes. She's been struggling since Master and I's senior passed. Lately, she's wandering more than ever."
"Hm. What if I fight hard but lose subtly? Let her feel some relief inside."
"..."
"Or beat her thoroughly? Fire her up to focus on training."
"..."
Jin Ga-yong stared silently, eyes pitying.
"Even a jianghu rogue like you—how can a young man think like that? A girl's depressed; must you solve it with a blade? Planning to chop her gloom to bits?"
"Then duel with words?"
"Ha—find an excuse, get past the duel, then buy her a drink and listen."
"Uh..."
"What?"
"I have a girl I like already."
Jin Ga-yong eyed him steadily.
"For real."
"Annoying. When did I say seduce her? I'd oppose that. Just cheer her up."
"Why me?"
"Earn your keep?"
"..."
That was why Flying Tiger schemed.
Flying Tiger and Zhao Baek-bing left Zhao Family Manor for a nearby tavern.
The old shop where Face Pursuit Unit Jeong had feasted before. He chose it knowing no others, but mainly because the owner grandma knew Jin Ga-yong well. Drinking here meant word would reach him naturally—that Flying Tiger behaved(?) with his junior sister.
Zhao Baek-bing looked awkward even sitting. She downed the first cup Flying Tiger poured in one go, grimacing.
"Ugh~ Bitter. What do men like about this stuff?"
"Ask your senior brother Jin. Best drinker I know."
Flying Tiger replied flatly, recalling Jin Ga-yong sipping alone last night during Face Pursuit Unit Jeong's initiation test.
Something amused her; Zhao Baek-bing giggled like a scheming rascal.
"True, he loves it. But I mean, why do men do that?"
"Your senior brother Jin said he's not a man."
"Heh. Well, he's different. Personal reasons. So you tell me—why do men?"
"Suddenly representing all men; heavy shoulders. Well, it's like..."
Flying Tiger bullshitted. It was a casual toss anyway.
She teased him for nonsense, but the awkward air lightened—mission success.
They traded light banter as drinks flowed, eventually circling to their un-duel-like duel.
"That was killing intent?"
"Yes. First time?"
"Yeah, never harmed or been harmed. But is killing intent always so vile and nauseating? Just thinking makes my stomach churn."
"I concentrated it for you to remember clearly. In real fights, it's subtler. But same essence."
"Ugh... All jianghu folk get used to it? Even senior brother Jin."
Zhao Baek-bing shuddered at the thought.
"Not saying get used to it. But know it. If someone gives off that vibe, it's a signal they'll kill you."
"...!"
"I get why it shakes you. Solution to that malice is one: draw your sword and kill first, or die. You sensed it instinctively, triggered rejection."
"But if I'm strong enough..."
"No. No soft hearts survive this jianghu. Not even your senior brother Jin. Know why?"
"..."
"They're all dead. Or dying soon. Not a choice—inevitable. You're at a dead end then."
"Sigh... Jianghu's tough."
"What can you do? You live in its heart."
They clinked cups silently and drank.
Bitter for Zhao Baek-bing—the unfamiliar liquor, and his final words.
A clan defeated, lord and heir gone, now near-sealed.
Its last blood.
Enemies still watching hostilely.
All that bitterness.
Finally, she grasped what Flying Tiger meant to teach.
'Want to live? Straighten up, grip your sword. Sharpen it!'
"Thanks."
"If presumptuous, sorry."
Downcast, Zhao Baek-bing smiled softly head bowed. Fresh as a blooming flower.
Then something struck her; she snapped up, glaring. Expressions shifting like a kaleidoscope.
"Wait—that killing intent you showed me?"
"Yeah."
"You really meant to kill me!"
"No, not..."
"Hmmm~"
"I said no!"