Chapter 310: The Fire in Chang’an (12)

“Mmph! Mmph!”

“He’s been gagged?”

“This impudent bastard keeps trying to bite off his own tongue.”

“Hm. Losing your tongue doesn’t actually kill you, though.”

“Young lady, when men like this try to bite their tongues, it’s a stunt. It means they’re trying to swear silence.”

“Wow. What a man of honor. Bite your tongue so you can’t speak? Admirable courage, I’ll give you that. But the gall—impressive. I couldn’t stand watching that kind of thing. I’d keep someone like that alive just so they could regret it forever. Make damn sure they’d never die.”

“Oooh! Truly! Marvelous! If we put him on display like that, wouldn’t he make a fine example for others?”

“Heh. You heard that, right? If you half-ass it and try biting your tongue, I’ll cut off your arms and legs and raise you like a beast. I don’t even know what kind of loyalty you think you’re upholding with trash like you.”

With that, Qing removed the gag.

“Ptoo!”

The assassin tried to attack the moment the gag came off.

Unfortunately for him, Qing blocked it easily with the gag still in her hand.

“You bastard! How dare you!”

The guild officer was outraged.

Though honestly, it wasn’t really worth getting that worked up about. She’d blocked it anyway.

“Oh wow, what a terrifying attack. Was that poison needle supposed to melt flesh and bone, and make your nose rot from the stench?”

“Kill me. I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Why? Might as well do some good before you die. Helping clean up human trash—sounds like a worthwhile cause, doesn’t it?”

“......”

“So you’re sealing your lips, huh? Damn, that gets me fired up. How do you make garbage like this open his mouth... oh.”

Qing was monologuing, and then suddenly realized something.

I already had the answer and I was fumbling around like a fool.

“Hey, guild officer. Is it okay to light a fire down here?”

At that, the man suddenly dropped to his knees with a thump.

“I beg your forgiveness! The ventilation here isn’t ideal, so only charcoal can be safely lit. I was so blinded I couldn’t grasp your noble will, and brought you to such a disgraceful place. Please forgive me! This was blasphemous! I shall atone with my arm!”

He pulled a long dagger from his robe, fully intending to sever his own arm.

Of course, Qing figured he was just putting on a show knowing she’d stop him—but still, he had a real knack for making people feel guilty with his theatrics.

“What the hell are you apologizing for? And why would you feel bad over something like this? I’m just borrowing this place and being picky about it. Why’re you the one kneeling?”

“Khuk... Such mercy...”

But inside, the guild officer felt his heart drop like a stone.

The emblem of the Cheonma Divine Cult was sacred fire—divine flame.

The cult’s sacred flame burns with radiant brilliance, but beneath its divine light lies pitch-black darkness, impenetrable to the human eye.

It represents the Heavenly Demon Supreme, who governs both good and evil, light and dark.

Thus, when the earthly embodiment of the sacred will judges sinners, using holy flame is only right and natural.

The officer was so ashamed that he had failed to grasp such an obvious truth, a truth as natural as the sun rising and setting, or the moon’s waxing and waning.

And so, with dim eyes that could not perceive the radiance, the lowly servant said unto his almighty master:

“My unworthy flesh weighs seven geun, forged of bone and blood, and I offer it in penance.

But the Heavenly Demon Supreme, descending to earth, smiled and said: ‘All things have been lent unto you. Do not torment yourselves over your foolishness. I am already content...’”

The guild officer—an elite doctrinal warrior of the Cheonma Divine Cult’s Sacred Flame Temple—was already composing scripture in his head, overwhelmed with divine emotion.

“...Fucking lunatics.”

The assassin, watching this madness, muttered through gritted teeth.

He still had some fight left in him.

Huh. This one’s going to be a pain, Qing thought, tension pricking her spine. She swallowed.

“Alright. From now on, we’re going to start roasting you slowly, from the tips of your limbs.

Char it black.

But hey, if you spill everything you know partway through, I’ll let you die in peace.”

“You insane bitch. You think someone’s gonna talk just because of that?”

“On the other hand, if you manage to endure all the way until your shoulders and legs are burnt to charcoal, I’ll count it as your win and let you live.

You’ll live out the rest of your life eating pig slop until you die of old age.

It’ll be boring, so I’ll even throw a pig in the pen for you to keep you company.

You can beg for death then, but it won’t come. You know that, right?”

It was a chilling speech.

Perhaps this was what Empress Lü Zhi once sounded like—her evil so profound it erased a Chinese character from the world.

The most common character for pig in ancient Chinese was 彘 (je), but after Empress Lü used it to designate “human pigs”—living people she mutilated and fed like animals—the word was deemed too horrible and fell out of use.

But honestly, Empress Lü probably had her reasons.

She ran around doing everything for that dog Yu Bang, even going to prison in his stead.

Back then, prison was a torture chamber for the guards’ amusement. Still, she bore it without complaint.

She remained loyal to her bastard husband to the bitter end, but after he became emperor, he discarded her as a filthy woman.

Of course she lost it.

Yu Bang was betrayal incarnate.

He sucked up to Xiang Yu, calling him brother and promising the world—then stabbed him in the back.

If he treated his own wife like that, what hope did anyone else have?

That moral rot passed down the bloodline.

Naturally, the empire fell. The Green Forest uprising came. Then the Yellow Turbans. Then traitors like Dong Zhuo and the Cao clan took power.

Eventually, even a beggar claiming the Liu surname was discussing rulership of the realm.

Ironically, the West had its version too—when beggars who once shined shoes started talking about stocks, it led to the Great Depression: a worldwide suicide festival.

So when beggars who used to sell straw mats began claiming the empire, it was only natural that millions died in a new age of horror.

Thankfully, the Sima clan severed that cursed Liu line.

They later divided the land into sixteen kingdoms, willingly giving up power—that’s why Sima is remembered as the greatest heroes in Zhongyuan history.

“You... you monstrous bitch! What kind of person says that?! Just kill me already! Kill me!!”

“Hearing that from someone who lives off killing others is rich.

Did you never imagine this day would come? That you’d make the wrong enemy and die a miserable death?

You leech off other people’s lives like a parasite—oh, sorry, bottlefly. No offense to parasites.

What, did you think you’d die happy, respected and adored after a long and peaceful life?

Trash should die like trash. That’s how a righteous world works, isn’t it?”

And thus the Master of the World declared:

“The end of evil must be misery. This is the just world you must strive to create...”

The doctrinal warrior beside her, eyes glistening, nodded furiously.

“Heh. Fine. I won’t deny I’ve lived like trash.

But what about you?

What gives you the right?

You kill people too. What’s the difference?”

“Eh? People? Between me and, hmm... Officer here probably needs to do a few more good deeds. He’s on the line. A bit shaky.”

“I’ll do my best!”

Qing turned back to the assassin, her expression going blank.

“This isn’t some debate.

The only words I want from you are who took the commission from Jangheung Trading Company, and where I can find them.

That’s what you refuse to say.

So let’s see if you can win this little match through torture.”

“You insane bitch. You’ve completely lost it.”

“Better to be insane than be a bitch, right?

Now be careful not to bite your tongue.

Because if you turn into a mute, I’ll have no choice but to roast every limb and toss you into a pigpen like some master of the house.”

****

“Why do they always do that? I don’t get it.”

“What do you mean, miss?”

The guild officer, Chodaeam, immediately responded to Qing’s muttering.

“If you’re going to talk, why not just do it from the start?

Why wait until you’ve made me do all the work, then cry and spill your guts?

Ugh, my clothes reek of smoke.”

The Salmak agent had resolved to die.

He’d been raised by Salmak since childhood, molded into a proper assassin. He would never betray their grace.

He was ready to die in loyalty.

But once the charcoal began roasting his fingertips, he quickly realized:

Holy shit. This hurts way more than I thought. Way more. It’s insane. I can’t. I’m not Buddha, I’m just a damn assassin. Even the heavens would agree this isn’t it.

The Salmak agent had achieved enlightenment.

And so he cried.

He cried from pain, from pity at his own pathetic self, for holding out and ending up like this.

He cried from the shame of betraying Salmak, the very group he swore to protect with his life.

But Qing wasn’t stupid when it came to torture.

She knew information extracted through pain couldn’t be trusted.

People, when they hurt, will say anything to escape—even lie just to spite their torturer.

So she roasted him harder.

Burn, question. Burn, question. Burn, question. Again, and again.

His attitude before grilling had been so aggressive that multiple rounds of verification were unavoidable.

Which is why people should always mind their damn mouths.

If he’d just been polite and respectful and spilled the truth right away, he could’ve avoided all that pain.

But in the end, all that effort yielded very little.

“He should’ve just said he didn’t know. Instead, he acted like he had all the answers.

And then all he says is, ‘You have to follow the top-tier lead to find the top-tier client’? Seriously?”

“Young lady... would you entrust the rest to us?”

Qing hadn’t gotten much, but Chodaeam had gained a wealth of intel.

The guy was mid-tier in Salmak, and had provided internal details—partial structural layouts, low-grade cipherbooks, signal methods, contacts, mid-level personnel identities and summons protocols...

“Huh? You guys at Sun and Moon Courier Guild? Why?”

“Well, uh... yes. Because... when you squeeze assassins, you get piles of gold and silver.

Our business at the guild eats up a lot of money.

Plus, your righteous crusade to wipe out those assassin scum has deeply inspired me.

And according to this intel, there are methods we can use in our own way to investigate further.”

“Hm. But even if it’s for money, isn’t this dangerous?

These guys don’t think twice about drawing blades on people.”

“If Master Choi helps, it shouldn’t be that risky.

Your concern is deeply appreciated. You are truly merciful, immeasurably compassionate.”

“Well, if Grandpa’s in, then...”

Between Grandpa, who was at the peak of the Flame Realm, and those Salgashang Guild employees—who were likely defectors from Cheonma Divine City, all first-rate fighters—it should be manageable.

“Alright. I’ll leave it to you.

But if it looks dangerous, pull out immediately. Got it?”

“Khuk, yes! Understood! I shall guard my life with my life!”

Qing tilted her head.

“...? Did he actually get that?”