Chapter 89
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Chapter 25. Battle of the Three Kings (1)
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Jin Ga-yong had sorted out the awkward relations between the team members and Sama, but the fundamental problem still remained.
The issue of how to break through to the Three Kings Hall, which looked as impregnable as an iron fortress.
Flying Tiger asked Jin Ga-yong.
"So, Team Leader, what's your plan for attacking now?"
"Ye Dok-du."
"Yes? Me?"
This time, Ye Dok-du, called out after Sama, responded unenthusiastically, sweat dripping down his face.
He had just personally endured the bandits' volley of arrows, and the thought filled him with dread.
There were fully a hundred steep stairs.
At least ten zhang high, by the look of it. How many arrows would rain down while climbing that?
But Ye Dok-du's worries were unfounded. Jin Ga-yong had no intention of putting him in the lead.
"Lend me a shield. I'll go first and secure a foothold. Once I send the signal, come up."
"What? You, Team Leader?"
"No, that's too dangerous."
The team members chimed in one after another, but Jin Ga-yong shook his head.
"I'll climb faster alone. I just need to endure one or two volleys."
"Jin, if that's the case, let me climb instead. I might be slower than you, but not by much."
"Impossible. What then after I reach the top? We don't know who'll step forward from their side, but it won't be some average fighter. So naturally..."
"I'll secure the foothold with my life. Please allow me!"
A Jeok-gang dug in stubbornly, showing no signs of backing down.
Watching this, Flying Tiger let out heavy sighs.
In this situation, it made sense for Jin Ga-yong, the second-sharpest sword after Wang Baek-gun, to go up. But he was the team leader. If he took a major injury right away, who would lead the team? Who would handle the enemy elites? And besides, this loyal A Jeok-gang looked ready to die before letting Jin Ga-yong go alone.
'Damn it, what am I thinking.'
In the end, Flying Tiger stepped forward, though reluctantly.
"Brother A, stand down. We're not picking someone to die bravely here—we need someone who can definitely secure the foothold, right?"
"But Jin the Team Leader..."
"I'll go."
"Flying Tiger, you?"
"Of course, I'm not claiming my martial arts surpass Brother A's. But I've got just the trick for a situation like this. Trust me and leave it to me."
"......"
As Flying Tiger spoke confidently, the team members eyed him with mixed doubt and hope. Considering the skills he'd shown so far, Flying Tiger clearly had something beyond mere prowess.
Something that inspired expectations.
But Jin Ga-yong frowned, trying to dissuade him.
"I know your methods are exceptional. But leave this to me..."
"Why use an ox-cleaver to kill a chicken? There'll be plenty of oxen to slaughter once we're up top."
"Hm."
Jin Ga-yong glanced back awkwardly, and Wang Baek-gun nodded in approval. It meant to trust and entrust it to him.
This was a battle where everyone was risking their necks anyway. The only difference was who went first—did danger vary that much? As Flying Tiger said, they needed to place people where they fit best for maximum efficiency.
That was Wang Baek-gun's thinking.
And so, Flying Tiger was selected to secure the foothold.
Crack.
Flying Tiger stretched his limbs with a series of pops, rolling his joints to loosen up. He held out his hand, and Ye Dok-du handed over a shield, still worried.
"Deputy Leader, you sure you're okay?"
Flying Tiger strapped the arrow-riddled, bulging shield to his right arm and scanned the team members. With a calm expression, he warned them.
"Everyone, focus. The foothold will be secured. I've got that planned. Then you'll all rush up, right? What comes after that?"
"Well..."
"Exactly. That's when we fight like hell. So don't treat this like someone else's problem. It's your fight soon enough. Got it?"
Ye Dok-du and several others nodded.
Flying Tiger grinned and thrust out his fist. Ye Dok-du pressed his own fist against it like stamping a seal.
"Got it. We'll follow soon—good luck up there. Count on us."
"Yeah. See you at the top."
With that, Flying Tiger dashed lightly to the base of the Three Kings Hall with nimble footwork, then began climbing the stairs two at a time.
The stairs clung to the cliff face, and due to the immense height, there were a full 108 steps. They zigzagged twice in a Z-shape. Thirty-six steps from left to right, then a turn; thirty-six from right to left, another turn; and finally the remaining steps left to right to reach the top.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Flying Tiger breathed steadily, climbing at a consistent pace—not too fast, not too slow. It was when he reached the first turning point.
A head popped up from above, peered down, and loosed an arrow at Flying Tiger.
Ping—
Without slowing, Flying Tiger raised the shield overhead as he methodically ascended. It was as if he meant to go his own way regardless of their shots. Sure enough, the arrow missed and fell behind him.
But now it truly began.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh...
More than twenty bandits revealed themselves and unleashed a volley at Flying Tiger.
He tilted the shield on his right arm at an angle, bracing it with his left hand, and picked up speed on the stairs.
In an instant, over a hundred arrows poured down like a rainstorm.
But Flying Tiger's speed exceeded the bandits' expectations, so most arrows struck the steps he'd already passed.
Some went astray, and only a few hit the shield.
Clang-clang-clang~
Fortunately, none touched Flying Tiger's body.
Not yet, at least.
But their predictive shooting grew more precise even in that short time. Their archery was already good to begin with, and Flying Tiger's path was all too predictable.
Thus, as he climbed the final thirty-six steps from right to left, one arrow finally slipped through a gap in the shield, grazing his thigh and drawing blood.
It was a close call—two finger-widths deeper, and his leg would have been crippled.
The excited bandits cheered and loosed arrows wildly.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh...
But Flying Tiger ducked under a protruding rock at the seventy-second step—the two-thirds mark, at the turning point.
A spot he'd eyed beforehand.
As he crouched there, shielded by the rock, their arrows couldn't find the angle.
Dozens of arrows thudded harmlessly into the rock, shield, and surroundings before the volley tapered off.
The moment it did, Flying Tiger sprang out—and the bandits fired again.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh...
Unable to endure, he ducked back into the crevice at the first shot, and the volley halted once more.
What was this? A deadlock, unable to advance or retreat?
"Hm, could this be the Deputy Leader's scheme to exhaust their arrows, just like with me?"
From below, Jeong's team members watched anxiously, and Na-mok voiced a hopeful guess amid the frustration.
But embarrassingly, no one replied. Soon after, A Jeok-gang cautiously offered.
"Should I go up now?"
"What, bored? Go keep him company? He might like it, but the bandits sure would—two targets now."
"......"
A Jeok-gang flushed at Ye Dok-du's jab.
As they fidgeted, Wang Baek-gun cleared his throat and cautioned them. His gaze lingered especially on Jin Ga-yong, who stared coldly at Flying Tiger. He half-expected the man to bolt up without a word in his current mood.
"No idle thoughts, everyone. Watch a bit longer. He's clever—he'll pull something off. Didn't he guarantee it? Don't worry about him; focus on the fight after the foothold's secured."
'Seven or eight, then another seven or so. Three groups, about twenty-two in total?'
Flying Tiger crouched, calculating, then tilted his head. The bandits' positions above were ambiguous.
But how often does the world match calculations perfectly? He could only hope for the best.
Muttering to himself, Flying Tiger unpacked his items. He took a deep breath and shouted up at the bandits.
"Hey, you rat bastards! Scared of one guy, wasting arrows all day? If you're real men, come face me!"
A provocation, of sorts.
Did it work?
Someone responded.
"Rat bastards? Heh heh heh. If I had to pick a cowering rat right now, it'd be you, hands down."
"Hee hee hee."
"Since you beg so nicely, this elder will grace you personally. Stay put."
And sure enough, the self-proclaimed elder slowly descended the stairs.
But his eyes gleamed slyly, his face smug with triumph—he had ulterior motives.
The moment Flying Tiger emerged to face him, his comrades above would loose arrows en masse, turning him into a pincushion.
If Flying Tiger held out and didn't come?
Then the elder would close in, taunting until he cracked and lunged—then flee upward as the others fired, ending this stalemate.
"Come on out now that the elder's here as you wished."
The bandit taunted, descending step by step.
But Flying Tiger wasn't born yesterday. He peeked suspiciously from under the rock, glancing up.
The bandits above, no fools themselves, quickly leaned back out of sight.
Twenty burly men retreating in unison to fool one—it was comically synchronized. Some even stifled giggles, reminded of childhood pranks fooling the neighborhood simpleton.
But...
In that moment, they missed what Flying Tiger was doing.
Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.
Roll roll roll~
Four fist-sized black spheres tumbled beside them, each with a fuse burning brightly.
Sss...
One bandit eyed the objects suspiciously.
"Huh? What's this?"
Who knows?
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The Heaven-Shaking Thunders detonated in unison.