Chapter 45
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: 13. Those Who Come Are Not Kind (3)
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Thud. Thud.
A neatly dressed, stoic man strode forward with purpose. He showed no signs of fatigue after marching all night—his steps remained as steady and measured as if drawn with a ruler.
Ban-chung and the other two trailing behind struggled to match his pace. Their grueling forced march was pure agony as it was.
They were dying to suggest a short break, the words bubbling up in their throats, but none dared voice them. They couldn't predict what might happen if they did.
An unpredictable man.
This was the leader of their operation, known as the Red Flower Coveter.
The one who covets red flowers.
The man was indifferent to the world and everything in it—except when drawing blood from others, which filled him with ecstasy. A madman, through and through.
And like any lunatic?
He didn't care who the target was, as long as he could make those red flowers bloom. That was why even his own organization's cleaners treaded carefully around him.
Despite this flaw, he was zealously efficient at killing and possessed exceptional skill that made it possible. Among the organization's cleaners, he held one of only five elite positions.
This rank surpassed even the grand masters of most sects. In other words, each elite cleaner operating in secret was a renowned master of the jianghu.
So it was no coincidence that such a powerhouse had mobilized—not just for some lone ronin, but with the Qingcheng Sect's swordsmen firmly in mind.
It was nearing the end of the Si hour (9-11 a.m.).
The Red Flower Coveter came to an abrupt halt.
They had crossed the Ye-ryang Mountains overnight and pressed on for another double-hour beyond that.
In his flat voice, he said,
"Listen up. Let me ask you something."
"Your orders, sir."
"Do I look like a joke to you?"
"Pardon?"
"Have my words always sounded like bullshit to you?"
"Heavens, no! How could we lowly ones ever... That's utter nonsense, sir."
Ban-chung and the other two dropped to one knee before the Red Flower Coveter, heads bowed low. They knew better than to meet his gaze—god knows what fate awaited.
"For real?"
"Yes, absolutely."
"Then why's there no word from the surveillance team since they went dark? And the guy I sent a half-quarter-hour ago to check—what's keeping him?"
"Uh..."
"I don't look like a joke, yet they ghost us. Any ideas why?"
Ban-chung and the others exchanged loaded glances.
'What's new there?' They'd been too busy watching this monster to think much else, but now that he pointed it out... yeah, something was off.
The man said indifferently,
"You've got one quarter-hour. Catch your breath, get ready. After that, we're in combat mode—full operation."
"Understood."
"If those scouts ahead slacked off, they'll answer for mocking me. But if we have company... heh heh heh, that's worth welcoming too."
A spark of life flickered in the Red Flower Coveter's otherwise dull eyes. Soon, it would be time to bloom those red flowers. No matter who the target turned out to be.
The Red Flower Coveter's group armed themselves thoroughly and resumed their march.
About the time it takes to sip one or two cups of tea, disaster struck from deep within the path—inside the dense forest of towering trees came a scream.
"Kieeeek~"
It was gruesome.
Was it a plea for life or a death cry? Even that was unclear. Friend or wild beast? Impossible to tell.
The group eyed the Red Flower Coveter uneasily, but he grinned with delight.
"Oh~ Wanna play? I like the vibe. Today's blood's gonna taste extra sweet."
He muttered that, then ordered his men forward.
"Come on, the enemy's calling—why stand around? Hunt time! First Sweeper, lead the way."
"Yes, sir!"
When the Red Flower Coveter called for First Sweeper, the lean, sharp-eyed man among Ban-chung's two companions stepped up eagerly. Even as Ban-chung and the other wheezed in exhaustion, this tough bastard had gritted his teeth and marched without complaint.
First Sweeper, Second Sweeper, Third Sweeper... These were temporary codenames assigned before the mission.
For reference, Ban-chung was Third Sweeper.
The organization avoided real names on principle, so unless you had a special moniker like "Red Flower Coveter" (reserved for elites), this numeric system was the cleaners' unspoken rule for distinction.
Those with "First" in their title were usually top-tier among cleaners—and this mission's First Sweeper was no exception.
Thud-thud-thud—
The group charged in single file.
First Sweeper at the front, Ban-chung next, then the leader Red Flower Coveter, with Second Sweeper at the rear.
Even if traps awaited, they'd smash through in one go. No bunching up to play into the enemy's hands—they were hunters, not prey.
And if the vanguard fell, the rest would surge in and cut off the foe's breath.
Of course, First Sweeper had zero intention of going down easy.
'Hmph, setting traps right at the entrance, huh.'
First Sweeper scoffed inwardly.
The scream had echoed from deeper in the forest. But at the treeline boundary, he spotted the enemy's trap ahead immediately.
Sharp silver wire stretched knee-high between trees.
Perfectly placed where the group would pass—shadowed enough to miss carelessly. Step wrong, and your shins might be half-severed...
Whoosh~
First Sweeper whistled sharply, signaling the followers to halt. He slowed but pressed on, eyes scanning busily for secondary or tertiary traps around the wire—or hidden foes.
But in checking seven zhang around the wire and the terrain, he overlooked what was right under his nose.
Ahead lay an open patch carpeted in ankle-high grass. Once his gaze passed it, it locked onto the wire beyond.
Pffft—
A dagger shot up from underground.
First Sweeper jolted at the cold blade against his sole, leaping back as dirt and grass flew. The Flying Tiger erupted from the earth.
Slash.
The Flying Tiger swung his sword mid-air, slicing at the airborne First Sweeper's leg.
At that moment, Ban-chung—second in line—froze mid-step toward his promised charge.
Whoosh.
As the Flying Tiger slashed with his right-hand sword, he hurled a prepared dagger from his left at Ban-chung. Ban-chung had no choice but to deal with the incoming blade first.
Meanwhile, First Sweeper was vicious.
Ignoring the agony of his possibly severed leg, he slashed downward desperately—and that ferocity saved his life once.
The Flying Tiger twisted his finishing thrust to parry the desperate swing.
Clang~
They separated.
First Sweeper tumbled ignobly, rolling several times before staggering up—only to collapse again. His blood-soaked legs wouldn't hold him.
Combat ineffective.
Only then did he groan low, unable to bear the surging pain.
The Flying Tiger retreated steadily, his footing stabilizing by the fifth step. His eyes never left the remaining foes.
About twelve zhang?
Gauging the distance, the Flying Tiger suddenly recognized the one who'd batted away his dagger: Ban-chung.
'Well, look who crawled back on all fours. Hold tight a sec.'
Setting aside his glee, the Flying Tiger focused on the moment.
Confirming distance from the rest, on his sixth retreating step, he stomped the ground and launched forward again.
To finish off the unfinished First Sweeper.
That instant—
"Ki-yo~ ot!"
With a fierce shout, the Red Flower Coveter exploded forward. A hazy glow shimmered on the longsword raised in both hands.
A bisecting strike!
The situation now...
The Flying Tiger was a beat faster, but by the time he landed his blow on First Sweeper, the Red Flower Coveter would close in—an ambiguous time gap.
So judged the Flying Tiger.
Pinning First Sweeper's rising sword with his own, he clamped the man's collar with his left hand in Golden Claw grip.
Grip.
Spinning with First Sweeper in tow, he thrust the man forward as a shield against the hurtling Red Flower Coveter.
Using their comrade as a human barrier.
But the Flying Tiger soon realized things had gone awry.
Not a flicker of hesitation in the Red Flower Coveter's motion. And above all, the eyes meeting his over First Sweeper burned with pure killing intent.
'This psycho!'
Screee—
The Red Flower Coveter's longsword cleaved the air, intent on slicing through everything in its path—obstacles be damned.
A split second.
Block or die!
The Flying Tiger acted on instinct.
One. Kicked First Sweeper away.
Two. Used the recoil to spring backward.
Three. Slashed horizontally mid-air.
The motions flowed like water, his mind locked solely on that horizontal cut. He poured everything into it.
Crackle.
A blue flash sparked from the Flying Tiger's eyes.
A descending reddish line clashed with a rising bluish one.
Flash.
An optical illusion?
The ground quaked as light erupted, billowing dust clouds swallowing the surroundings like thunderheads.
And then...
Through the settling dust, the Red Flower Coveter emerged, longsword drooping at his side.
Third Sweeper Ban-chung and Second Sweeper snapped out of their shock and rushed to him.
"You alright, sir?"
"Heh heh heh. Fun."
"...?"
"That guy's no fiend spawn, that's clear. Think he's the one we're after?"
Ban-chung replied grimly.
"Yes. Has to be the Flying Tiger."
"Really? Just some high-grade ronin, right? Yet at that young age, he wields sword qi that most swordsmen dream of? Secret weapon from some orthodox sect?"
"Doubt it. No mention in the intel reports, and from our prior encounter... no air of nobility from a prestigious lineage."
"Ho, you've met him?"
"On orders from above..."
"Never mind. What'd you make of him then?"
"Talented kid, but rough around the edges. Street-hardened vibe."
The Red Flower Coveter was a madman, sure—but not so arrogant or stupid as to dismiss Ban-chung outright.
He tilted his head, puzzled.
"Hm, lowborn with no backing? Even prodigies handpicked and nurtured by top orthodox sects struggle to manifest sword qi before their twenties... A once-in-a-generation genius? We'll see once we cross blades again."
Decision made, he scanned the group.
"Got it. Enough talk—pursue now. The Flying Tiger slipped away with his life, but I've tasted his steel. He won't escape me. Third Sweeper, you're vanguard this time. Don't disappoint."
"Yes, sir."
And with that, the hunters departed.
Such was the jianghu's ruthlessness.
Only the collateral victim, crushed between the Red Flower Coveter and Flying Tiger, lay scattered and forgotten in the dirt.