Chapter 53
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Interrogation (1)
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The physician who had examined and treated Flying Tiger the night before reported on his condition as follows.
"This man's incredibly lucky."
Compared to the near-corpse he'd been, Flying Tiger was remarkably fine. Just some minor internal injuries and superficial cuts. If that wasn't sheer luck, what else could it be? The doctor figured he'd lost too much blood and barely escaped a fatal blow, then passed out from the release of tension once he was safe.
It was a perfectly reasonable diagnosis.
So that night, Wang Baek-gun—total commander of the Face Pursuit Squad and one of its four protectors, known as Bright Teeth—accepted the report without suspicion.
Wang Baek-gun dismissed the physician and spoke with his adjutant.
"What will you do with Flying Tiger?"
"His identity's confirmed, right?"
"Yes."
"Then what can we do? We'll wait until dawn, see if he wakes, then grill him on what happened. Though that's for Sect Leader Gwak to handle, not me."
"But didn't this mess happen because of him? Shouldn't we keep him under strict watch?"
"What, you want us to chain him up like a criminal and toss him in a cell just because he caused some trouble?"
"......"
"Look, no matter that they're ronin we pay for jobs, aren't they our comrades right now? Why treat him like a criminal from the start?"
"But still..."
"Enough. If you're that worried, watch him yourself. Just don't move him out of the infirmary."
"Understood. I'll do that."
"Good. Drop it. Any word back from Sect Leader Gwak?"
"Yes. She said handle it well and commended us for pulling an all-nighter. She'll come at first light tomorrow morning."
"Got it. What about those three masked bastards?"
"We sent out Face Pursuit Unit Jeong to track them. They're headed toward the capital, so if they made it in, finding them won't be easy."
"Damn them. No ordinary thugs. Who the hell are they?"
"You think they'd dare touch us in Shaanxi if they knew who we were? Probably just a random clash after he picked a fight with them. Be patient. We'll hear the full story when he wakes."
"Tch."
Wang Baek-gun received a report on casualties from his adjutant and ended the meeting.
This was about half an hour (igeuk) after the masked intruders from the Orthodox faction had retreated.
Flying Tiger had feigned unconsciousness, waiting for the right moment. When their guard outside relaxed and exhaustion from the chaotic day peaked, leaving everything in disarray.
And now.
Flying Tiger sprang into action.
He rose silently, approached the watcher, and struck his sleep acupoint first (Flying Tiger didn't know it, but this was Wang Baek-gun's adjutant). The man had already dozed off in a chair against the wall. To ensure he stayed out, Flying Tiger put him into a deep sleep.
Then Flying Tiger changed into his prepared night clothes, donned a mask, cracked the door, and slipped out like black mist.
Srrrrk.
The door closed softly behind him, leaving only the watcher snoring obliviously in the infirmary.
The infirmary was at the end of the second-floor hallway in headquarters. The black mist headed for the archive room in the center of the fourth floor.
When the iron is hot, strike it. He planned to grab the Face Pursuit Squad's real hit list today. He'd never intended to put this off.
Divert their attention outward while he handled business inside.
This was the grand finale to his long night.
The tumultuous night ended, and dawn broke. Sunlight flooded the second-floor infirmary in Face Pursuit Squad headquarters, without exception.
The elderly physician reapplied salve to Flying Tiger's wounds and rebandaged them. Amazed, he said,
"Flying Tiger warrior, you're not just lucky—you take to medicine well too. At this recovery rate, you'll be up and about in four or five days."
"Meaning I won't drop dead if I move now?"
"Heh, pushing it could reopen the wounds."
"I'm fine. You know my line of work and situation, right? I've already used up my vacation—can't take more time off for injuries. Tomorrow's my return anyway, so I'll rest up today like you said. Don't worry."
"If you're that stubborn, hold on a sec."
The physician seemed to like Flying Tiger's polite demeanor, unusual for a rough ronin his age. He handed over a fresh jar of golden wound salve, unopened, and repeatedly urged caution.
"All done? Get going. They're waiting."
The adjutant watching from the side spoke irritably. He'd pulled an all-nighter, dozed briefly in a bad position, and felt awful.
Flying Tiger bowed to the physician and followed the adjutant out.
Time to report on last night's incident. Of course, the "full story" would be tailored to fit, spiced as needed.
The interrogation room was down the opposite hallway on the same floor—a short walk.
In that brief time, the adjutant clicked his tongue. Flying Tiger looked displeased.
"Something wrong?"
"Tch, you're stubbornly diligent. Rest if you're hurt—how long you gonna keep grinding away here?"
"Gotta eat somehow. Where else like this?"
"Heh, that's why you're stubborn. Think this Face Pursuit Squad lasts forever? Ever consider when the pay dries up?"
"I knew it was temporary from the start. Still, it'll hold half a year, right? Gonna squeeze what I can till then. Resting's for when I've got a fat purse."
"Pfft, half a year? Lucky if you're alive that long."
Flying Tiger stopped and stared blankly at the adjutant, then asked seriously,
"What? Face Pursuit Squad disbanding next month? No, wait—you just said surviving's tough?"
"Ahem, forget what I said."
"You messing with me?"
"Huh? What?"
The adjutant panicked at Flying Tiger's mutter, like self-talk. He'd been so meek till now; the adjutant wondered if he'd misheard.
As the adjutant's face soured, Flying Tiger spat on the floor with a thuggish scowl, rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a silver coin, and flicked it.
Ting~
The adjutant caught it reflexively and stared in disbelief. What the hell?
"No big deal. For sharing rice, y'know."
"What?"
"Spill some info. Looks like you've heard rumors."
"Ha~ So a measly silver coin buys organization secrets from me?"
"Secrets my ass—quit bullshitting."
"How dare you! I put up with a lowly ronin like you, and now this."
The adjutant glared, hand twitching toward his sword.
But Flying Tiger just sneered, cutting him off, and lectured calmly. He knew the adjutant couldn't make a scene here.
"Hey, it's all common gossip anyway, right? Just hits close since it's my livelihood, and I hadn't heard. That's why you let it slip. Common sense. If it were real secrets, you wouldn't blab. Right? I'm seeing the big shots—want me to ask them direct?"
"Uh!"
The adjutant faltered.
Flying Tiger glanced around, slung an arm over the adjutant's shoulder. The man shuddered, but Flying Tiger whispered faster.
And like a chameleon,
Flying Tiger's voice turned to that of a sleazy back-alley hustler.
"C'mon, let's do this nice. I'll treat you proper, bro. Pungnyeon Pavilion—killer spot. My home turf. Whaddya say?"
"Pungnyeon? Where's that?"
"Aw, bro, you know~"
Flying Tiger grinned slyly, splaying his fingers wide then kneading the air lewdly, like groping something slippery.
It was vulgarly obscene, and the adjutant swallowed involuntarily.
'This guy's all prim and proper on the surface, but a pro at that, huh?'
Just like that, they became bros. Surprisingly, the adjutant hailed from Dance Melody Manor, one of the Martial Qin Alliance's backers.
Wang Baek-gun, one of the Face Pursuit Squad's four elders, came from there, and they'd dispatched the adjutant as his close aide.
Flying Tiger had killed Sang Mok-cheon from Dance Melody Manor during the entry exam. He was a traitor they needed handled, and Flying Tiger had just followed orders—but it still felt off.
Coincidence?
It was, but not unusual. The four elders' sects—Chongyang Sect, Stone Heaven Valley, Hanjung Fortress, Dance Melody Manor—each sent one expert.
Anyway.
The adjutant's moniker was Dog Nose Na-mok, for his knack at sniffing out omens or trouble.
And the "rumors" he shared, emphasized as such, were juicy.
And grim!
'Expected as much, but worst-case. Worth digging more? Feed him something real?'
Flying Tiger decided to keep ties with Na-mok for now and followed him into the interrogation room.
Clunk.
Four people inside.
Flying Tiger knew two, not the other two. One he knew, Face Pursuit Squad Leader Mountain Night Gwak Nan-hoe, greeted curtly.
"Flying Tiger, good to see you again."
"Yes. Sorry I'm always a mess when we meet."
"If it's from duty, we should thank your dedication."
"Aw, you noticed—I'm touched."
"Ho~ Another thing for me to thank you for?"
"Probably?"
Flying Tiger replied innocently; Gwak Nan-hoe met his eyes with curiosity.
Early morning, yet she was lavishly dressed in ornate robes, her slim, pretty face half-hidden by thin silk. But her sharp features could seem fierce, detracting from her beauty. Instead, it lent an air of haughtiness, like noble blood.
"Good. Curiosity later—introductions first."
Gwak Nan-hoe began introducing the room's occupants one by one.