Chapter 47
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Chapter 13. Good Men Come Not (5)
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Two days ago, while camping at the entrance to the Ye Liang Mountains, Ma Yeop had said,
"...So let's go together and see just how far your luck stretches."
Just how far would this sudden stroke of fortune take them?
Flying Tiger was deeply curious. He was excited, yet anxious too. And if he could pour every last bit of luck left in his lifetime into this one chance, he wanted to do just that.
So please, let it be...
Thud thud thud thud—
That was the thought that raced through Flying Tiger's mind as he urged his horse onward at a frantic pace. His heart pounded in sync with the galloping hooves, leaping wildly.
Clouds had gathered since late afternoon, and dusk fell faster than usual. Before long, a pitch-black night arrived without even a single star in the sky.
At first, the rain fell in scattered drops, then turned into a chilling drizzle that soaked him before stopping again, only to repeat the cycle. Flying Tiger stopped by a nearby village to buy a raincoat, changed horses, and pressed on.
By midnight, he reached the area near his destination.
It was a quiet hamlet called Pocheong County, bordering Hanzhong. The meeting place Ma Yeop had mentioned was the Ancient Stone Manor located there.
"The Mun family has been settled there for over a century. They were founding contributors when the Hanzhong Guard was established. But they're so reclusive that their influence has waned with each generation, and now their standing is much diminished. Once the job's done, go find the manor lord, Fiery Elder Mun Hwa-gyun. The manor's not large, but it stands alone at the innermost part, so you won't miss it."
"Is he the one we're meeting...?"
"No. I plan to ask Manor Lord Mun to arrange it. It seems better coming from him than me. That's why I sent a messenger bird ahead from Zhao Family Manor the day before we left."
"Ah, so you know him personally?"
"His eldest son is an in-name disciple of our Qingcheng Sect. He spent three years at the main sect as a child to build his foundation. He's not learned our ultimate arts, but broadly speaking, he's family."
Flying Tiger nodded in understanding.
It was surely a stopgap measure.
The Ancient Stone Manor, steadily losing power, must have forged ties with a prestigious Sichuan righteous sect like Qingcheng to expand their reach.
And that effort likely continued to this day. It wasn't a bad choice.
Recalling Ma Yeop's words, Flying Tiger surveyed the village from a hilltop pass.
Sure enough, the Ancient Stone Manor was unmistakable even from afar. Its location helped, but in this typical rural village where all other houses were modest, this was the only proper manor.
He paused here for a reason.
Normally, at such a late hour, etiquette demanded waiting until morning. But his urgency made him hope there might be an excuse to enter despite the impropriety. So he decided to scout first.
By then, the intermittent rain had turned steady and heavy, showing no sign of letting up.
And regrettably, not a single light shone from the Ancient Stone Manor—it was a silent wasteland. Did they assume no visitors on a rainy night like this? Everyone seemed fast asleep.
'Too much to hope for? Sigh. No need to leave a bad impression when seeking help. My anxiety aside, the outcome's probably set either way. I'll come back at first light. Tch, now to find shelter and warm up.'
As Flying Tiger clicked his tongue in deep regret and turned to leave—
Flash.
A bolt of lightning struck nearby, illuminating the world like midday for an instant.
Was it lingering reluctance?
Flying Tiger instinctively glanced back at the manor. His pupils dilated in shock.
His eyesight was exceptional to begin with, honed further by special training, allowing him to discern distant objects clearly.
And that's why he witnessed the unbelievable!
He blinked to confirm, but darkness had already reclaimed the scene. Reluctantly, he pieced together the fleeting glimpse burned into his eyes.
The manor was in chaos.
Unclear shapes littered the grounds, doors ajar or torn off in places.
Yet it was so quiet?
Were those shapes rolling like trash...!
Then—
Rumble... Boom!
Thunder roared, shaking the mountains and trees. Light came first, sound followed.
Stunned by the blast, Flying Tiger's thoughts froze—only for an eerie laugh to echo from a distant ridge.
It seemed to answer the thunder.
And to him, it was all too familiar.
"Ehehehehe~"
The serial killer Ghostface's signature cackle!
Why was that monster here of all places?
Thump thump.
Cold rain lashed down harder since the thunder, pounding his body. Goosebumps erupted across his rain-soaked skin.
Whoosh—
Flying Tiger charged toward the Ancient Stone Manor.
The sealed gates loomed ominously. He scaled the wall, peered inside, and swallowed a groan.
His grim hunch was right.
Warriors lay sprawled and slaughtered everywhere, blood washed away by rain. He closed his eyes and opened his ears. Only rain; not even faint moans.
The Ancient Stone Manor had been massacred by the beast suspected to be Ghostface and his crew!
Flying Tiger vaulted inside, unable to contain his surging emotions, and shouted,
"Ma Yeop~!"
Whoosh—
"Brother Ma, where are you?"
No reply from the silent manor. Flying Tiger searched frantically for Ma Yeop.
Not aimlessly—he focused on likely guest quarters. A master like Ma Yeop wouldn't fall easily; he'd either escaped or left traces if slain.
Prioritizing those spots.
In his search, he uncovered two facts.
First, the slaughter happened recently—about an hour ago. Corpses just beginning rigor mortis told the tale.
Second, fewer than seven perpetrators: a small elite unit, well-trained. Similarities in their cuts, yet distinguishable individually.
About fifteen minutes in, as faint hope stirred that he might not find Ma Yeop among the dead—
A presence flickered from the far side of the manor.
Shing.
As if entranced, Flying Tiger drew his sword from his belt and bolted toward it.
Against expectations, it was a remote warehouse, far from main buildings.
Tat tat tat.
The area bore heavy scars of fierce combat.
And before the warehouse, under a large tree, a headless corpse leaned, gripping its sword, resting its weary frame.
Flying Tiger instantly recognized the sword, the uniform, the build.
It was Ma Yeop!
"Brother Ma... what the hell happened?"
"......"
The corpse was silent.
Flying Tiger scanned around, then rushed into the warehouse through its shattered door.
There unfolded a hellish tragedy beyond words.
Seven or so women's and children's corpses, terrified in their final moments, mangled together.
And in one corner, Ma Yeop's severed head stared wide-eyed.
Step step.
With a hardened face, Flying Tiger approached, carefully lifted it, wiped the dirt from its face with his sleeve, and wrapped it tenderly in his outer robe. Clutching it, he emerged outside.
Torrents poured from the pitch-black sky.
Gazing at the downpour with a heavy heart, Flying Tiger murmured to himself,
"At least I can guess how you met your end, Brother Ma. When the enemy burst in suddenly, you blocked the entrance to protect the children and fought? Holding them off alone until death? Admirable. Truly the mark of a hero."
He'd held at first. Fierce marks around the entrance attested to it.
But then the beast arrived.
Ma Yeop dueled him one-on-one but couldn't withstand a few exchanges and was slain.
It spoke to the beast's strength—and inversely, that Ma Yeop wasn't at full capacity. No worldly wanderer could so easily dispatch a Qingcheng mid-tier master otherwise.
Perhaps the internal injuries from overexerting to heal Flying Tiger the day before lingered.
Regardless, the beast slew Ma Yeop effortlessly, then beheaded him.
And took the head...
Flying Tiger could vividly imagine what followed. The traces in the narrow, sealed warehouse made it obvious.
But dwelling on it only fueled his rage, so he steadied his breath and calmed himself.
Thus, he sank to the depths of his inner self. His face grew icy, eyes shrouded in darkness.
The beast smashed through the warehouse door and tossed Ma Yeop's freshly severed head triumphantly at those hiding inside.
Why?
The women and children inside had prayed Ma Yeop, their protector, would survive. The beast wanted to crush their hope with despair.
Then he hunted each woman and child, butchering them one by one.
Different footprints at the entrance indicated accomplices blocking escape.
This spot was a den of pleasure-killing.
And the perpetrator was undoubtedly Ghostface. Unique cross-thrust scars on multiple bodies confirmed it.
Slap—
Flying Tiger slapped his cheeks to snap out of it.
This wasn't the time for dazed reverie—it was time to move.
He approached Ma Yeop's body under the tree and retrieved the sword from its grasp. With the head and belongings secured, he planned to leave, hold a simple rite later.
But abandoning the body felt wrong; his feet wouldn't move. In a somber voice, he bid farewell.
"The ancients said good men don't come, and those who come aren't good? To me, it applies not just to people, but luck too. I thought the fortune Brother Ma brought was real, got all excited—and this is what it turns into. Heh heh heh, too greedy a hope? I'm truly sorry, Brother Ma. But thanks to you... I dreamed a good dream."
Muttering 'thank you,' Flying Tiger bowed his head. Then his gaze caught Ma Yeop's clenched left fist, sparking interest.
A scrap of fabric protruded from the grip.
What was this?
He pried open the fist and extracted the cloth. Unfolding it revealed two blood-written characters.
Regardless of circumstances, could this be a clue left foreseeing death?
Pointing to the beast...
Rain-soaked but protected in the tight fist, the first character was legible.
'Bu' — 'not'.
The second was smudged beyond reading. But it was a simple four- or five-stroke character.
Four or five strokes... What could it be?
'Bugwa , Bulsaeng , Bulil , Bulin ... Bulin? No way—the Unbenevolent Sword?'
Whoosh—
In the rain, Flying Tiger's eyes flashed.
Unbenevolent Sword Jin Ga-yong.
Could he be Ghostface?