Chapter 1035: The World Is a Kaleidoscope (17)

These bastards could dump cannonballs over people’s heads and not think there was anything wrong with it at all.

From the sound of it, it was not the first or second time they had poured down bombardment like that. Maybe they had simply grown numb from experience.

Or maybe, in the thinking of Westerners, this kind of atrocity was considered a perfectly ordinary procedure for trade.

Or maybe only men born this vicious could become sailors in the first place.

There was no way to know.

Because she had already made the men with the answer unable to answer ever again.

And besides, what was the point of knowing?

Dog-bastards were dog-bastards either way.

The Master had said that you could still lecture a man who took a shit by the roadside, but you should never associate with a man who squatted down and took a shit in the middle of the road.

So what exactly had she expected from men who, in broad daylight, for the pure purpose of making money, rained cannonballs down on civilians without even a declaration of war?

Having muted the two sailors, Qing stared blankly ahead as if it were none of her business.

Blanking out was one of Qing’s specialties too.

I am the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost, a fearsome ghost of the Central Plains, the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost. But wait, do they already have that Eight-Foot Ghost story over there in Japan right now, or not? If I’m not careful, won’t the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost accidentally become the original?

And so on, as she let her mind wander through useless thoughts.

Soon, at the grating sound of the bar being drawn back, Qing shook off her stray thoughts.

Then she sat there with her eyes as vacant as possible, completely unfocused, expecting the next victim’s reaction, but—

“[......So that is what you meant by waiting quietly?]”

It was that bastard’s reaction—the one who had come to the magistrate’s residence before together with the witch. The first mate, was it?

He stayed perfectly calm even after seeing the ghastly state of his own subordinates. Was he blind, or something?

Why was he standing there like this was exactly what he had expected?

Even worse was the witch beside him.

“[My, my. My abomination is skilled too. It’s the best.]”

Qing did not know since when she had become that side’s abomination, but the witch was practically excited about it.

Should she say that was just like a witch?

Then, very obviously worked up, the woman strode right over and suddenly thrust her fingers straight out.

Should she just grab those fingers and tear them off, or not?

After thinking for the briefest instant, Qing decided to wait and see what kind of trick this was.

If the fingers had been headed for her eyes, that would have been one thing. But the spot between the brows was hard enough to use for headbutting.

All the more so for a master protected by protective aura.

The witch’s fingers stuck fast to the center of her forehead, and right away Qing felt something flowing in—a subtle sensation impossible to properly explain.

But?

I’ve done this before?

Something about it was familiar. This feeling, what was it, ah, what was it again......

Ah! A mental parasite!

It happened in that instant.

The presence of the new mental parasite that had dared to invade her inner world without permission suddenly vanished with a snap.

What the hell, the witch’s aura—it vanished?

“Hiiik......!”

A thin breath burst out of the witch.

Short, but packed with feeling. Was this the kind of sound you made when you found some thumb-sized grotesque creature in your house? Or the kind you made when that thing suddenly flew at you and pounced?

“[No, no, why, again.]”

Then she sucked in a huge breath, her chest swelling.

Inside, Qing counted.

One, two, three.

“KIIYAAAAAAAH!!!”

A hideous scream burst out.

Well, deep inside Qing’s inner world there was an automatic threshing system installed—a section that automatically hunted, no, unconsciously kept tormenting the Heaven-Crushing Demon mental parasite, that absolute dog-bastard who had once dreamed of stealing her body.

A one-of-a-kind defense system had been built there, one that reacted to outside connections.

But the world of the unconscious was a profoundly mysterious place, and unless Qing deliberately combed through her insides from top to bottom, it was hard for even her to notice.

So from Qing’s point of view, it just looked like something had gone wrong.

“[No, please, my lord! My lord! Save me! Please, save me, save me! Please!]”

“[Damn it, Joanna! What is this, pull yourself, pull yourself together, what is this—]”

“[No no no no no, stay away, please, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong!]”

The witch shrieked and bawled in a sound half scream and half sob, clawing at her own head.

To Qing’s eyes, it was deeply gratifying.

Then suddenly the woman slumped to the floor—

Ugh. Qing’s face twisted at once.

Because the witch’s lower half—those light-brown trousers—was rapidly darkening.

No, what the hell? I haven’t even started yet, so why is she screaming and bawling all by herself and now, on top of everything else, being gross too?

At that moment, Qing’s eyes met the first mate’s directly.

Qing wore the expression of someone looking at filth abandoned by the roadside, and the first mate’s face crumpled exactly the same way.

“[Y-you, what did you do?]”

“[I didn’t do anything. Though it definitely looks like she really had to use the toilet.]”

At Qing’s answer, the first mate flinched in shock.

He was the one who had asked, and yet when she answered him, he looked startled. What a funny bastard.

Then again, the first mate had his reasons for feeling wronged.

He truly had not imagined an answer would come back. So of course he could be surprised.

“[How—who are you? How are you speaking our language?]”

“[I am the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost. In your language, that makes me the Five-Foot-Eight-Inch Evil Spirit. Hm? That actually lines up perfectly, doesn’t it? How strange.]”

The unit systems of the Central Plains and the West had, somehow, a rather similar side to them. One foot was just a little longer than the local foot measure, and one inch just a little shorter than the local inch measure, was it not?

That unit systems born in ancient times in entirely different cultural spheres could resemble each other this much—was that not a truly astonishing thing?

...Not that it was especially astonishing.

Those measures from the primitive ancient dawn of human society were all taken from the length of the human body in the first place, so of course they were bound to turn out roughly similar.

“[And ghosts naturally understand speech. What, have you ever heard a ghost story where they met a foreign ghost and couldn’t communicate?]”

“[Quite a lot, actually......]”

“[Huh?]”

The West was full of countless countries sharing tangled borders, and even inside those countries, language was by no means unified depending on which land had originally belonged to which nation, and where one’s ancestors had come from.

So stories about not being able to communicate because it was a foreign ghost were actually rather common.

So Qing smoothly changed tack.

“[That’s because those are weak ghosts. A strong ghost can understand any speech, you know?]”

“[A ghost? Then you weren’t an abomination?]”

“[An abomination? What even is that? Why do you people keep calling me an abomination?]”

It happened right then.

Aaagh! Please, stop, stoooop! The witch’s voice, screaming as if it would tear apart, chopped Qing’s question clean in half.

“[Damn it, Joanna! You, Five-Foot-Eight, whatever! Stop this at once! What do you think you’re doing?]”

“[No, I told you, that’s not me.]”

“[Don’t lie! If it weren’t, Joanna would never suddenly become like this!]”

“[No, really, it’s not. This is so unfair. Ah, I’m being wronged. I’m so wronged I feel like evolving into an evil spirit, ngh, the power of resentment!]”

The shape of Qing’s hands appeared, both palms twisted backward over the backs of her hands.

At the same time, three streams of cold blue light rose within her eyes and spun in circles.

The inner image of Minor Water Demonic Art and Wheel-Turning Demonic Tribulation forced into the world by a master who had reached the Transformation Realm—

but to someone ignorant of martial arts, there was never an evil spirit in the world more evil-looking than this.

The first mate’s pupils shook violently.

“[Wait! Calm down, calm down! I’ll believe you! I’ll believe it wasn’t your doing! You mustn’t turn into an evil spirit!]”

“[Good. How nice it is when people believe me. So, shall we go back to what we were talking about? What exactly is an abomination?]”

“[......An abomination is......]”

An abomination: a twisted monster that appeared when a person’s resentment reached the point that they let go of their own existence.

At that, Qing tilted her head.

Then again, the Central Plains were already a madhouse, so why would the West still be exactly the same as its old homeland?

Surely in the West too, it was all qi in the end.

According to Prayer Adept Danryun, Qing’s sorcery friend and a great authority on sorcery, every strange phenomenon—including martial arts—was, in the end, sorcery.

And sorcery was a miracle created when human belief touched the qi of heaven and earth.

Witches, abominations, and the like—weren’t those exactly the sort of superstitions Western bastards would believe in?

And if something was believed in for a long time, until its existence itself became common sense, then at that point it came to exist as naturally as martial arts......

“[Then witches? Tell me everything you know about witches.]”

“[That......]”

“[Aaaah! I’m so curious, so curious! I’m so curious I could die! And if I die here again, I’ll turn into an evil spirit! A ghost as strong as me, a tremendously strong ghost, must never turn into an evil spirit! Everyone will die! No, they won’t die, but they’ll get right to the edge of it!]”

Qing once again took on the form of the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost, the evil spirit.

It was such a ridiculous threat that it hardly qualified as a threat at all.

But then, all at once, the first mate’s mind flashed to the carnage aboard the United Company. Could it be—if this thing turned into an evil spirit, would that happen......?

“[Stop! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!]”

“[You could’ve just talked from the start. Really, it’s like you enjoy teasing people—no, teasing ghosts.]”

“[Ahem. I don’t actually know that much about witches. What pertains to witches is a secret known only by witches. I merely know a very small portion of what witches themselves have told me—]”

“[Your introduction is too long. Skip ahead.]”

“[......Witches are those who make contracts with devils, borrow power from them, and perform sorcery.]”

“[Devils? What, are devils actually real?]”

“[Wouldn’t someone who’s a ghost know better than I would?]”

“[Looks like the Eastern afterlife and the Western afterlife are different. Anyway, so what can witches do?]”

“[The sort of things usually attributed to witches. Curses, plagues, and enchantment......]”

A list of the sorts of things witches would do came pouring out.

Qing, listening, stared fixedly at the first mate, who was spilling it all so obediently.

Was he the type who was normally a little afraid of ghosts? To open up this meekly?

“[......Do you have any other questions, O soul?]”

“[No, I think I’ve heard enough.]”

“[Then this time I will ask. Why did you do it? Did you have some grudge against the United Company?]”

At that, Qing bared a mischievous grin.

“[Because Shanghai is my territory. Who sits there quietly and takes it when someone’s firing cannonballs over their head? Why did you go and disturb a ghost that had been living quietly? Don’t you Westerners know even that much? Don’t disturb a ghost that’s minding its own business, don’t touch ominous things, don’t go wandering near abandoned houses for no reason, and even if you hear signs of people or a baby crying, pretend you didn’t and keep walking.]”

“[That, we didn’t know. If we had known—]”

“[If you had known, then what? You’re saying you wouldn’t have fired if you’d known? So because you didn’t know, you fired? Meaning if there wasn’t a ghost attached, there’d be no consequences at all, so it would be fine to fire away regardless of who lived there, who died there, right?]”

“[That is......]”

The first mate clamped his mouth shut.

But that expression, that tightly closed expression, fairly reeked of dissatisfaction.

Because no matter how primitive this age was, wasn’t it still a time when the concept of basic morality existed?

That you should not fire cannons at a city where people lived was such a simple moral truth that even an eight-year-old child could understand it.

So he could not answer, but judging by the look on his face, what lay inside him was obvious enough.

Sure, maybe they could not say it aloud, but where in the world did anyone live while obeying every such moral principle? It had all been necessary for business, so why was she even asking something so obvious?

“[Anyway, I heard the story well enough. You ought to pay for the story. Right, then let’s do it like this. The price of the story will be paid in lives.]”

“[What?]”

“[I’ve got the dignity of the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost to think about. You dared lay hands on my territory, and you think I can let it slide with only one ship? Still, I’ve heard all the things I wanted to hear, so you survive. From now on, before you bombard a city, you’d better look carefully and see whether there’s an evil spirit like me there or not before you fire.]”

“[Wait, what—]”

“[Go. Leave while I’m letting you. Once the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost starts getting angry, it stops seeing anything at all, you know? First mate, you stay out of here. At the very least I ought to smash up the flagship.]”

“[Th-]”

The first mate’s gaze flicked aside.

It went to Joanna, who was still floundering on the floor, endlessly muttering things like my lord, please save me, I was wrong, over and over as if reciting them.

“[Get out before I change my mind. Well, if you want to run out there and declare an emergency or gather everyone up with guns or whatever, I don’t mind. In fact, times like that are better for slipping out by yourself, aren’t they?]”

At that, the first mate screwed his eyes shut as if he had finally made up his mind, opened them again, turned, and ran out the door.

“Bastard. I tell him to go and he really goes. Leaving his own captain dumped here.”

A man who certainly deserved to die.

Still, it was necessary to spare at least one bastard with a high rank.

That way, word would reach the West too.

Then from now on, whenever those long-nosed bastards wanted to bombard a city, wouldn’t they be thrown into a terrible dilemma?

Whether they used necromancy or some spirit-summoning ritual—didn’t they say even spirit-summoning rites started in the West?—they would have to ask, O spirit, O spirit, may we ask whether it is permissible to bombard this city? If you grant permission, please move. And so on.

For the sake of the countless bombardments that would happen in the future as well, and for the innocent people who would suffer under them.

Letting one man go was nothing much.

And then.

Qing turned her gaze to the witch, who had been providing constant background noise the whole time.

Her mind seemed completely gone. She kept wriggling like a bug, alternating screams and pleas. Was this one maybe pretending to be pitiful?

Qing picked up the lamp hanging on the wall.

A fine lamp with a very Western look to it. She gripped it and shook it once. Slosh, slosh—the sound of oil moving around inside.

Qing nodded, satisfied, then, holding the lamp—

It would be a waste to let this bitch die nicely, but the right thing to do with a dangerous bitch was to get rid of her early.

She called herself a captain, and yet she had looked excited even while seeing the state her subordinates had died in. Just from that alone, she was clearly a bitch who deserved to die.

Qing looked the lamp over, top to bottom.

Goods from this era were all more or less obvious if you looked at them. When she opened the plug at the bottom, the smell of oil rose at once. Then she tipped it, pouring it out in a steady stream over Joanna.

And then—whoosh—she flung the lamp.

The lamp slammed into Joanna’s abdomen as the woman lay on the floor flailing her limbs.

CRASH!

Glass shattered, and in the next moment the spilled oil went up in a blaze.

“KIIYAAAAAAAH!!!”

The witch suddenly screamed in a full, ringing voice and thrashed with tremendous force.

Qing kept feeding in the room’s other lamps, building the flames higher.

Before long, the witch stopped moving, and in her place a large fire had begun burning in earnest.

Good. The flagship could burn and sink.

The firelight rising up from below flickered, and for a brief moment a satisfied smile bloomed on Qing’s wickedly beautiful face.

Then Qing kicked the door open and shouted at the top of her uniquely enormous voice.

“[I am the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost! Let’s go! Five-Foot-Eight Ghost! FIVE-FOOT FIVE-FOOT! EIGHT-INCH EIGHT-INCH!]”

It was a simple enough thought: because she was the Five-Foot-Eight Ghost, her cry would naturally be Five-Foot Five-Foot, Eight-Inch Eight-Inch.

And so, on that day, the Dutch East India Company flagship, the Golden Lion, received three skulls......