Chapter 78
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Chapter 22. Fragments of the Past (3)
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Flying Tiger nodded slowly.
For that reason, Jin Ga-yong must have actively cooperated with Gwak Nan-hoe, the only daughter of the Lion Hall Leader, while trying to marry Jo Baek-bing—his junior sister and the Leader's sole blood relative—to Nara-kdo Ho Yeon-sang, the senior disciple of Lion Hall. After all, nothing could open a path to survival for Zhao Family Manor quite like strengthening ties with Lion Hall at this juncture.
But judging from the character A Jeok-gang had described, Jin Ga-yong probably wouldn't have seen such schemes as lowly, even if they felt like a golden opportunity to someone else.
Better to die fighting fair and square with a clear conscience.
Flying Tiger figured that's how he himself would feel.
"I'll follow the Leader's orders, but I doubt his heart is at ease with this."
"Just uneasy? It was a cruel thing to do."
"...!"
A Jeok-gang seemed thoroughly displeased with the late Manor Lord Jo Ban-san.
Was there some deeper grudge between him and Jin Ga-yong's master?
But Flying Tiger didn't pry. From the look on his face, he wasn't about to spill anyway—and truth be told, what Flying Tiger really wanted to ask was something else.
He tossed it out casually, as if it were no big deal.
"By the way, Brother A, why did our Zhao Manor Leader and that dead Ma Yeop Do-u hate each other's guts so much?"
A Jeok-gang flinched for a split second, then schooled his expression to neutral. But that was all Flying Tiger needed.
Sure enough, something was there.
And you know what it is!
"Who knows? They didn't like each other, but hate? Not sure about that."
"... ."
As Flying Tiger stared silently, A Jeok-gang soon let out a sigh.
"You been circling around just to spring this question on me out of nowhere?"
"Not exactly. But now I'm dying to know."
"It's complicated. Involves the honor of the dead, so it's not something I can just blurt out. If you're that curious, ask Jin Gong-ja himself. He won't dodge it with lies if he chooses to speak."
"Will do."
Flying Tiger played it cool, but had his emotions stirred this time?
A Jeok-gang frowned and turned serious.
"Listen, do you know why I've been answering your questions so honestly all this time?"
"The Leader's upright, so cooperate fully. Something like that?"
"You get it. So what's your answer?"
"Don't worry. I already promised the Leader I'd cooperate. And I've always seen him as righteous and spirited. I'm sincere."
A Jeok-gang stared straight through him, but this time Flying Tiger kept his expression steady.
Perhaps reassured, A Jeok-gang's face softened. Then he brushed off his clothes and stood. They'd talked enough, the relief had arrived, so it was time to end his shift and rest.
Before leaving, he added:
"Truth be told, Jin Gong-ja thinks highly of you. As I said earlier, I'm still wary. But setting that aside, I acknowledge you're a capable man. That's exactly what bothers me. Still, we're in this squad now—what can we do? I look forward to sharing a drink someday in better times."
Left alone, Flying Tiger gazed at the stars while sipping from his gourd now and then.
A Jeok-gang was a decent fellow.
He'd rushed from afar to Zhao Family Manor—a place that might as well be a death trap—just to repay a debt of gratitude.
If a man willing to stake his life on loyalty wasn't decent, who in this world was?
That was the pity of it.
No lies there. He did have a good impression of Jin Ga-yong, and he'd cooperate fully on this mission as promised.
"But once the mission ends? Who knows. Being a good person doesn't win everyone's heart, and a blade doesn't care about good or evil."
Flying Tiger murmured coldly, stroking Ma Yeop's sword Blue Stream.
Flying Tiger stood watch until dawn, then rose as Ye Dok-du came to relieve him.
"Hey, Deputy, how's the body holding up?"
To Ye Dok-du's greeting, Flying Tiger said, "Good," and handed over the gourd with about a quarter left.
Ye Dok-du's eyes lit up as he snatched it and gulped it down. "Whoa! Thought you were bluffing, but this is the real deal!" He smacked his lips, clutching the gourd tight. Three or four sips remained, and it was too good to return.
"Brother."
"Nah. The others deserve a taste too."
"This stuff's like pearls around a pig's neck for them. Once the job's done, I'll buy them their own jars. So the rest..."
"Your 'pigs' include that King Dharma Protector guy. You sure?"
"Ahem."
Ye Dok-du sheepishly handed it back, and Flying Tiger chuckled as he took it. He clapped Ye Dok-du's shoulder—"Keep it up"—and headed to his quarters.
Flying Tiger lounged all morning.
Nothing to do but wait. His comrades, who'd been at it since yesterday, fidgeted restlessly, boredom turning to agony.
As afternoon hit, even the casual banter died down, the mood sobering.
The time was approaching.
Jin Ga-yong had said two days and half. So within a day, it'd be clear—advance or retreat—and that would decide if a big fight broke out. Everyone's minds naturally grew heavy and restless.
As dusk fell, even Wang Baek-gun looked grim. Old-timers like No Gang-ho were on edge too.
The only relaxed ones were No Song-seo, fresh from scouting, and Flying Tiger, who'd lounged all day. No Song-seo didn't care much, and Flying Tiger had waited in enemy camps plenty before.
"Everyone, gather up."
Unable to stand it, Flying Tiger stepped up. He called the squad together and scanned their anxious eyes.
"What's with the dead-fish stares?"
"... ."
"Last check your gear, circulate your qi if needed. We're hitting the Yellow Worm Squad's main base tomorrow morning—maybe sooner or later—to take White Horse Deng's head."
"Uh..."
"What?"
"We haven't decided if we're attacking or retreating yet."
"That's why the acting Leader—me—decided. We're going in! Ditch the rotten eyes and sharpen your fighting spirit. Got it?"
"But if the Leader doesn't come..."
"Get your head straight!"
Flying Tiger barked.
"This kind of fight is all about momentum—don't you know? It's hard enough to steel yourself, and you want to start off limp? The Leader's coming! So quit whining about preparing when he arrives and focus on the fight ahead!"
His tiger-like glare and forceful words carried weight and power.
His gaze now fixed on Wang Baek-gun.
"Wang Dharma Protector, the Face Pursuit Unit's deploying, and I'll get you in front of White Horse Deng, no matter the obstacles. Deal? Will you take his head then?"
Wang Baek-gun looked mildly surprised, then stroked his beard thoughtfully, gazing warmly at Flying Tiger. He replied resolutely.
"On this, I swear. At least White Horse Deng and I won't both see the sunrise two days hence. I'll stake my life on it!"
Wang Baek-gun's declaration of battle.
It rang true, more impactful than empty boasts of victory.
The squad's eyes shifted as they watched. Just like that, the unit's mood turned—the result Flying Tiger wanted.
He thought:
So what if the Leader's late? Missions always throw curveballs. Shaking every time means even sure things fail. Time for steady resolve. Especially storming a tiger's den like this.
But what if the Leader really doesn't show?
What to do? Sheathe the heated blade and pull back. Face the enemy with a dull one, and death's the price—but here, it's just wasted effort.
The squad dismissed. Each kindled their own fighting spirit through the night.
The moon rose and set.
Deep darkness brightened the stars before wearying into murk.
But the Leader didn't return.
-Awake?
As Flying Tiger stirred, rustling, Wang Baek-gun's voice whispered in his ear.
-Need a favor. Come out. Same spot you trained last time.
Two spots empty: Wang Baek-gun outside, Dan Geum on watch.
Two slept soundly: carefree Ye Dok-du, Na Mok who'd tossed from worry.
The other two feigned sleep but were awake. Sensitive No Song-seo just roused by the noise; A Jeok-gang up all night fretting over Jin Ga-yong.
A man like that won't mind one sleepless night.
Flying Tiger slipped out unnoticed.
Deep in the rocky valley, thirty-odd paces, a flat clearing. Wang Baek-gun waited there, hands behind back, gazing at the dim sky.
"What can I help with?"
"This and that. First, loosen me up."
Sparring. Fitting before a life-or-death clash.
Flying Tiger nodded, reaching for his sword—but Wang Baek-gun shook his head.
"Bare-handed."
Bare-handed martial arts. Flying Tiger tossed his sword aside, shook out his hands, and stepped five paces opposite.
He sank his stance, right hand half-fisted, left open-palmed, cupping them salute-style.
Then advanced, twisting to draw back before thrusting forward powerfully.
A pop—air trembled.
He retreated to starting stance.
The starting form of the Manja Bokho Fist.
A tiger fist variant? Solid and fierce! This young one's skill is no joke.
Wang Baek-gun instantly read the fist's nature and intent.
His experience was vast, and Flying Tiger had shown it deliberately. Sparring to warm him up—not real combat, where he'd hide it like a tiger belly-down in brush.
Wang Baek-gun responded in kind, demonstrating his signature Yin-Yang Eight Reversal Palms' first form grandly in the air for clear view.
Then, with anticipation:
"Come."