Chapter 340: The Showdown Between Man and Ximen Qing (8)

There is such a thing in this world as circumstantial conviction.

Even without evidence, it’s the kind of certainty where one doubts in their heart that something must be true.

The Blood Cult suddenly showed up?

That’s a trick that wouldn’t fool even a child.

But again—of all things—it’s the Blood Cult.

It’s not like she could scream “How fucking stupid do you think I am, you vile bastard?”—because if it’s the Blood Cult, it’s actually possible.

The Blood Cult doesn’t need a reason to commit a massacre. They’re the kind of bastards who burn houses down just because they were bored walking past an empty one. Or because. Or just because they could.

They’re the kind of scum who gathered together because they hate the world, hate people, or simply enjoy torturing and killing them—and for that, any madness they commit makes perfect sense. The Blood Cult is exactly that kind of trash of the world.

Of course it’s unfair, and it’s infuriating.

But he couldn’t raise his voice and declare vengeance, couldn’t blame anyone out loud.

Chief Chaeju Wang Cheolgun’s heart rotted with grief.

And so, the Chaeju wept blood once more.

“Hhck—Chaeju-nim.”

“Kh... ngh.”

Whether it was Ximen Qing or the Blood Cult, his precious daughter—his daughter, so dear he could’ve put her in his eye without pain—was dead.

“No. It was Ximen Qing. It has to be Ximen Qing.”

Even if it really was her, it’s still her doing.

And even if it really was the Blood Cult, then whose fault was it that the main stronghold had been left empty?

Ximen Qing! It’s Ximen Qing!

Ajandeok now understood that “weeping blood” wasn’t just a figure of speech.

When rage and grief pushed a person to the edge, the blood vessels in their eyes really would burst, and blood really would spill from them.

He was struck silent by the horror of it.

And then, on top of that—he was doubly horrified to realize that even human filth like them could weep for their children.

Dou Sam had already seen this blood-crying before.

The first time, he thought it was tragic, but the second? Didn’t really hit him.

If this keeps up, won’t he end up mixing blood into his tears chronically? In that case, instead of Green Forest’s Tiger, shouldn’t we call him something like Blood-Tears Great Calamity?

He had the spare bandwidth for such stray thoughts.

And in fact, he did think stray thoughts.

After all, Dou Sam didn’t have family, so it didn’t really resonate.

That kid and the others? They were all weaklings who just clung to their dad’s reputation and caused mayhem—they were bound to die badly one day anyway.

He’d seen this man weep blood not once, but twice now.

And the effect, the shock of it, had clearly diminished.

The first blow is always the most powerful.

But the second? Less than half as strong.

And then, on the third time—that’s when people let their guard down, thinking no way it could happen three times—and boom, the impact spikes again.

But by the fourth?

“Again? What, again? Not falling for it anymore,” and the whole thing stops being shocking.

That’s why they say: stop at three.

Do it a fourth time and people start to roll their eyes.

But people always make the same mistakes.

If it works once, and again, and again—people get giddy.

It starts to feel like they’ve figured something out. Like, ah, so this is the trick.

Qing may be hailed as a divine maiden—her beauty unrivaled in the world, her strength superhuman, her cultivation so far beyond her age it defies reason—but even she, in the end, is human.

Hm. If that worked... maybe I can burn a few more?

If I’m going to do this, better finish the job and cripple those Green Forest bastards once and for all. Leave no seeds of vengeance behind.

On the first day, Qing had burned the main stronghold.

On the second, she burned the adjacent peak’s main hold, the auxiliary hold, and the third base hidden below in the gorge.

That was three in total.

But then, Ajandeok reasoned that if this was the work of the Blood Cult, the other bases might also be in danger.

So, by the next morning, two more strongholds were discovered reduced to ash.

And on that day, the fourth base next door and the forward supply post beneath it also burned to the ground.

That made it three more, all discovered the same day.

That marked strike three.

And now, on the fourth day of arson—

The grand finale: the fourth strike.

Qing pierced the palisade again, this time with Sword Aura.

Huh? No signs of life?

Did they just pull out entirely since they couldn’t stop the fires?

Shit. That’s not good.

I need to cut their numbers down as much as possible. But if they’re just gonna run and let me burn the place, then...

Then I’ll burn it all!

At this point, Qing could proudly say she was a fully-fledged arsonist capable of incinerating at least one structure wherever she went.

By now, she had a decent sense of the stronghold layouts and quickly found the Chaeju’s bedchamber.

Ugh, the stench.

Seriously. These fucking bandits—learn how to air out a room!

Her face twisted as the stench of lonely old bastard filled her nostrils—like it could rip her nose clean off. Qing opened wardrobes and bedding chests, arms extended like tongs as if picking up trash, and stacked the filth on the bed.

This shit stinks even after washing.

It’s the kind of garbage you can’t even donate—it belongs in an incinerator.

She lit a lantern, let the flame catch, then dropped it onto the pile. Arson complete.

This was Qing’s perfected method of arson.

Trying to set fire to an intact building? Rarely worked.

But pile up flammables inside and get a big blaze going—and the whole thing would soon be engulfed in flames.

And so, Qing was just about to spark the lantern—

“Amazing.”

“Gah—!”

A sudden voice from behind.

Qing sucked in a sharp breath and drew her sword in a blink.

How?! There wasn’t a hint of presence!

Qing’s senses surpassed human limits.

If she hadn’t noticed, it wasn’t because she let her guard down—it was because the person had the skill to trick those senses.

Right as he said “Amaz—”, she was already aiming her drawn sword at him.

Dou Sam, the Grand Commander of Yangsanp’aekdae, held back a whistle of admiration.

Damn, she’s fast. Fast as hell.

And not just that. Her face—rumored to be the greatest beauty in the land, a flower among flowers—was no exaggeration.

Even Dou Sam, who’d never had a taste for women, found it hard to look away.

He didn’t show it, though. Just opened his mouth and let sarcasm pour out.

“A so-called righteous heroine who’s so dirty her pettiness pierces the sky, whose cruelty could put the Blood Cult’s own assassins to shame, who throws their name around like candy, and tops it all off by setting fire to other people’s homes?”

But Qing stood proud.

“People always say the same thing. ‘How can a righteous heroine do such things?’ As if every so-called orthodox martial artist isn’t just a goddamn idiot.”

She continued.

Why, just because she’s from the orthodox sects, should she honor promises made with the enemy?

Why does she have to avoid all “cowardly” tactics and only attack openly, through the front gate, under the bright daylight with prior notice?

No torture. No cruelty.

Kill only with a single, clean stroke, painless and merciful?

That’s not righteousness. That’s just being a dumbass.

“Well, yeah. If you’re not going to act righteous, what’s the point of being orthodox? If orthodox folks act like cultists or rogues, then why bother calling them orthodox at all?”

“Come on. A method is just a method. The orthodox sects are righteous because they’re righteous. The unorthodox ones? Useless garbage that the world’s better off without—that’s why they’re unorthodox.”

“That’s a dangerous way of thinking. Not all unorthodox fighters are trash.”

“Mm, maybe. But Green Forest isn’t one of them, right? They’re parasites who make the world a better place every time they’re killed.”

“So you killed them cruelly because they deserved it?”

“Of course I did. The world needs to see them die miserable, so they’ll think, ‘Haha, that’s what you get, dumbass,’ and stop becoming bandits.”

“Hm.”

“I’m bold, I’m righteous, and I’m performing a noble service for the world. The only way you bandit bastards can contribute to society is by dying as fast as possible.”

By now, even Dou Sam was offended.

“Do you have some personal grudge against bandits?”

“Not really? But if you see a flea or a bedbug crawling around, doesn’t everyone squash it? Or burn it for fun, drown it, toy with it until it dies? Would anyone call that cruel or evil?”

You’re on par with fleas and bedbugs.

A direct insult to his face—You little bug.

Naturally, the bandit listening was extremely offended.

Of course, deep down, no bandit really believes they’re a decent person.

Plenty of them run off after one big score and try to live clean with a false identity.

Still, he tried to argue back.

“Sounds like you think you’re judge, jury, and executioner.”

“Do I even need to be? Then tell me—just name one single way Green Forest has benefitted the world.”

“That’s—”

Dou Sam fell silent.

What the hell could a bandit possibly say?

They call themselves heroes or whatever, but at the end of the day, they’re just robbers who hurt people to get rich.

“See? Even a three-year-old knows Green Forest is just trash that needs to be taken out. Isn’t that the job of a righteous heroine?”

Now he felt pathetic.

At the level of a Huajing master, you should be enjoying wealth and respect anywhere in the world.

Instead, he was here—suffering in some godforsaken mountain, getting verbally destroyed by a girl young enough to be his daughter—all because he was a bandit.

Honestly, it was Dou Sam’s own fault for picking a fight with Qing in the first place.

“Ahem. Fine then, I’ll make you an offer. Do me one small favor, and you’ll be able to walk away from this alive.”

“What is it?”

“Bear my child.”

This time, it was Qing who fell silent.

What the fuck? Is this bastard insane?

“Listening to you talk made it clear. I’ll raise our son right—not as a bandit, but as a proper man. So you don’t have to worry—”

At the words our son, a chill ran down Qing’s spine.

“What—the fuck—did you just say?”

“They say you’re a prodigy, a superlative martial artist at a young age. If my child inherits even half of that, he’ll be born with talent beyond compare.”

“And what about what I want?”

“If you want to live, you’ll give birth. You act all high and mighty, but I know you’re already exhausted. And for the record, I’m a Huajing expert—even if you were in perfect condition, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Hm. I wasn’t thinking of fighting anyway. I was considering running. I’m good at that.”

“The place is surrounded by Green Forest’s elites. A single signal arrow, and even the Chief Chaeju will storm in. You think you can escape from two Huajing experts?”

Cold sweat beaded down Qing’s back.

Shit. This is bad. This feels really bad.

“Hyungnim? As you said, the Heaven’s Snare Formation has been—guhk.”

One of the Yangsanp’aekdae men came in to report, only to suddenly clutch his throat and collapse.

Qing flinched.

She remembered the old man from the Tang family—the one who fought at the palace gates—saying that using forbidden techniques slowed the body. The geezer was barely standing, and could only use his ultimate strike once.

So this was her first time seeing the true speed of a real Huajing master.

The way he tore through that man’s throat was so fast that even Qing’s keen eyes barely caught it.

She’d thought that, as a transcendent expert, she might stand a chance against just one Huajing...

But this guy was faster than expected.

Qing’s expression hardened.

And Dou Sam, emboldened, spoke triumphantly.

“See that? I’m serious. Serious enough to kill my own man. If you agree to bear my son, I’ll let you go. Just give me one beautiful son and be on your way.”

“You expect me to trust the guy who just murdered his own subordinate?”

“That just shows how serious I am. And after you give birth to my child—what kind of man would kill the mother of his own kid? I’d even be willing to take you as my wife. I swear I’ll never cheat, never abandon you. Well—don’t expect too much, but still.”

“Motherfucker...”

“By the way, if Chief Chaeju catches you? You’d be better off biting your own tongue. He said he’d chew your limbs off alive and pass what’s left around to all his brothers. So really, wouldn’t it be better to just bear my child and walk away? I won’t even ask you to nurse him. Just give birth and leave—whether right away or after you recover.”

Qing’s mind began to spin.

Her plan had been to keep running, set fires, lay traps, kill bandits where she could, and pick them off one by one.

But if this guy tried to actually mate—

Then he’d let his guard down.

In that moment, if I hit him with a Tathagata Divine Palm... wouldn’t that be a clean kill to start with?