Chapter 360: Be careful with flames when you wake up, let’s check even the extinguished ones again (3)

The adjutant soared through the air.

Whether it was an unbelievable coincidence, or a fateful tie ordained by the heavens, the forcibly airborne adjutant crash-landed right in front of the general with a splat.

“Ugh!”

“Hm. You alright?”

The general grabbed hold of the adjutant, who immediately exhaled with a sharp gasp.

“Haaack, yes, I’m alright. Wait, why am I alright?”

“You don’t sound alright. But well, it looked flashy, but they probably didn’t mean to actually hurt you—more like pushed you off, so you should be fine.”

Indeed, though it had looked flashy, it was more of a shove than a proper kick using the rebound of the knee.

Two sections of red spreading across, and a two-digit count of bad karma—so, whether it was hand speed or foot speed, they had shown mercy and pushed instead of striking to kill. That much was clear, though the exact reason was unknown.

But it was obvious enough they’d held back deliberately.

“Looks like they took the flag too.”

“Ugh. Could’ve just accepted it nicely, couldn’t they.”

Even if they’d only been shoved, the shock of soaring through the air and crashing to the ground left the whole body aching, not a single part unbruised.

“If they enter my ranks, I can grind them down then. Though, maybe they were in a hurry because of the wounded on board.”

“Then grinding them down is pointless...”

****

Meanwhile, Qing’s feet slammed onto the earth once more as she kept running, now gripping a flagpole.

She’d grabbed it because something had been flapping wildly—what the hell?

The harness was still fastened across her chest, so climbing the slope didn’t really restrict her hands.

Looking at the unfamiliar crest on the flag, Qing muttered, A military flag? Looks like one. Maybe they won’t attack me if I carry this.

She shoved the flagpole down the back of her neck, tucking it behind her collar.

Cool air rushed in through her nape, making the sweat-soaked expanse of her back refreshingly chilled, giving her overheated body some relief.

And the crest of the hill was just ahead.

If I make it over, I’ll be fine, right?

Without slowing down, Qing charged up the incline, the cart following behind.

Her view opened wide, and like a cart launched over a speed bump at full tilt, the wagon shot into the air.

THUD! The wagon slammed down onto the paved road, careening down the steep downhill slope.

What had been a forward ascent toward the sky suddenly tilted downward, sending them hurtling down the slope like they were crashing straight into the underworld.

“UWAAAAH!” “We’re crashing, we’re crashing!”

Passengers shrieked as if experiencing a futuristic ride at least five centuries ahead of its time.

One of them, unable to withstand the terror, even leapt off, rolling across the ground—proving how utterly primitive the mindset of the people of the Central Plains was when it came to enjoying future amusement culture.

The Northern Army, preparing to withdraw from their camp at the foot of the hill, spotted the runaway rickshaw rampaging down the slope at lunatic speeds.

But behind the rickshaw runner, a flag was raised.

The flapping flag, stretched wide as if about to tear, bore the crest of the famous Daesoon Troop—the Daesoon Centurion’s insignia.

There wasn’t a single Northern Army unit that hadn’t benefited from the Daesoon Centurion’s support, so everyone respectfully cleared the way.

Of course, it was only respectful to a point.

More like, If we get hit by that thing, our bones and flesh will separate, so they hastily got out of the way.

Qing darted through the opening at top speed, weaving between the soldiers’ camps as she shot downhill.

Before long, she slipped through a gap in the wooden palisade.

At last, she entered a mountain trail with no one around.

She had escaped the soldiers.

Only then did Qing gradually slow her pace, easing off so the cart wouldn’t lurch.

****

At the forefront of the road, a man wearing a rooster-crest helmet led a procession. On either side of the road, soldiers in silk uniforms—imperial guards from the Jinwi Corps—marched in orderly lines.

Each of them wore a helmet pressed down on their heads, and every helmet was adorned with a bird’s head, its neck stretched forward grotesquely.

If Qing saw this, she would recoil in disgust.

These tacky, bird-head helmets, called Jodu helmets, were actually the most coveted item among all martial officials in the Central Plains.

Only the highest-ranking officers were permitted to wear them.

Among them, the rooster-head crest was considered the most prestigious.

In the Central Plains, rooster-heads were ironically a symbol of great fortune, invoking scholarly success, wealth, valor, and luck, in that order.

Thus, the rooster-crest helmet was reserved for Imperial Censors of the Guards at minimum—a symbol of immense authority.

The only helmet ranked higher was the phoenix helmet, which only the Son of Heaven himself wore when personally commanding troops, utterly unattainable for commoners.

Therefore, the rooster-crest helmet was the most glorious headgear an individual could wear.

Qing, of course, would simply find it hideously tacky, if she knew.

But no need to know—the mere sight of it was nauseating enough.

So naturally, Qing recoiled.

Dozens of bird-head helmets craned their grotesque necks to stare straight at her.

What the hell, is this the fashion of the Central Plains? You walk around wearing these tacky helmets without shame?

The Jinwi soldiers lining the road, their attention caught by the rattling, clattering rickshaw, all turned their bird-helmets toward it.

The guards themselves were baffled.

What the hell? A rickshaw? Is that thing crashing?

To the east, the Southern Mountain Range gradually descended into rolling hills.

Down the slope, a rickshaw came barreling furiously.

The rooster-crest man was speechless.

He’d given strict orders to slaughter every last ‘bandit’ who dared burn the Heavenly Mountains and plunder the common folk.

Yet here came a ‘bandit,’ boldly charging down the main road in a rickshaw, flag held high.

Seeing the Daesoon Centurion’s flag, the rooster-crest man ground his teeth.

That hateful bastard’s flag!

A sudden {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} thought struck him.

Is that bastard disguising himself to escape alone?

Left him to die, and now he dares slip away like this?

Hatred burned vividly in the rooster-crest man’s eyes.

From the general’s perspective, it might seem unfair—the grudge was absurdly disproportionate for a couple of petty insubordinations.

But that was human nature.

Humans don’t need words to hate each other.

Sometimes you just despise someone for no reason at all—and if that person starts to succeed, you hate them like they killed your parents.

Compared to the civilized future world Qing came from, the rooster-crest man could almost be called simple-minded.

At least he had a reason to hate.

In Qing’s home world, people would curse someone to die painfully just for writing an annoying sentence online—without knowing their face, name, personality, or job.

Regardless, the rooster-crest man stepped into the road, channeling his inner force as he roared:

“Stop!”

Qing’s mind raced.

The guy with the ugliest helmet shouted for her to stop, face twisted in undisguised malice—like he wanted her dead on the spot.

Three-digit bad karma, spread visibly.

And the bird-head freaks to either side—just from their gait and footwork, they were clearly trained martial artists.

They, too, had three-digit karma.

In other words?

They all need to die—or at least, get out of the way so I can get Free out of here.

“I refuse!”

“Wha—WHAT?!”

“If you don’t wanna die, MOVE, CHICKEN-HEAD!”

Qing yanked out her Moonlight Sword (size 10, oversized) and charged forward.

Like a grand, gallant charge of Western knights!

“You bitch!”

The rooster-crest man growled, crossing his arms defensively.

Trying to block her charge bare-bodied—like some schizophrenic old lunatic trying to fight a windmill.

But the rooster-crest man had his own tricks.

With a fiery flare, crimson aura burst around his arms, his forearms blazing red.

Qing gripped the Moonlight Sword with both hands, swinging it wide behind her shoulder.

In her eyes, a spinning soul-flame ignited, and the humming crimson aura traced a crescent arc.

Feigning a thrust, she swept low for his waist.

The rooster-crest man panicked, dropping his arms down.

BOOM!

Aura clashed with aura, a thunderous impact.

The rooster-crest man, his body twisted like a scythe, was blasted away by overwhelming force.

Qing exhaled sharply.

Normally, slicing with a sword carried no recoil—but if blocked, part of that force rebounded back.

A concept known only to humanity’s top intellectual elite—“reaction force”—far beyond common understanding.

Though not a full reaction force due to the rooster-crest man being flung away, it still sent agony tearing through Qing’s side.

Damn it—why isn’t this healing?!

Her side felt ready to burst—utterly ridiculous.

Give it some damn time to heal first!

“Sir!”

One of the guards leaped forward, catching the rooster-crest man.

But momentum carried them, both sliding backward.

Checking his forearm, split open and gushing blood—the rooster-crest man’s eyes rolled back in rage.

“Kill them! They’re traitors!”

The guards pounded the ground, unleashing their lightfoot technique toward the runaway cart.

Qing’s lightfoot technique was said to be unmatched—but not while dragging a wagonload of passengers.

A guard leaped ahead, shadow looming over the cart.

A spear, infused with internal energy, flew and smashed into the guard’s abdomen midair.

Tumbling pathetically, the guard crashed down, rolling dozens of times, entangling with his comrades.

“There’s an expert on that cart!”

“Stop the wagon! Aim for the wheels!”

“Protect the wheels, you fools!”

Yeon Pa snapped irritably.

The nameless bandits seated on either side swung their stolen weapons, threatening the incoming guards.

But ordinary soldiers could hardly hold off trained martial artists.

Even with Yeon Pa guarding one side—the other?

Qing panicked.

Free was inside—if the cart went down, so did she.

The downhill slope would carry them regardless, but she had to unfasten the harness.

She grabbed the harness strapped across her chest.

But dragging a heavy cart had tightened it mercilessly, the straps digging deep into her flesh.

She grunted, straining to loosen it—but her shoulder bones blocked it, the thing wouldn’t budge.

Desperately, she tried to tear it apart when—

“You bitch!”

The rooster-crest man suddenly appeared beside her, footwork blurring, arm shooting out, aura blazing in his palm.

Qing had no choice but to meet him head-on, sword extended.

His eyes flashed as he snatched her sword bare-handed.

This bastard—grabbing my sword?

Qing’s glare sharpened, soul-flame erupting in her pupils.

SKREEEE— Sparks flew as his hand sizzled.

Startled by the pain, he recoiled.

In that gap, Qing’s Moonlight Sword slashed violently across his shoulder—WHACK!

Damn, this one’s tough.

The chaotic dash prevented her from fully powering the swing.

Even so, with Sword Aura, the blade should’ve sliced—not just made a dull WHACK.

The rooster-crest man, shoulder struck with Herculean force, staggered, tripping over his own feet, tumbling across the ground.

But stubbornly, as a true martial artist, he leapt up, closing the distance, shouting:

“Wheel Demon Heretic! Cursed Demon Spawn!”

“Who’s calling who a demon, Flame Technique freak!”

Qing shouted back.

She’d seen that flame-like aura before—confidence to grab a blade with bare hands meant it had to be a flame-based demonic technique.

The rooster-crest man roared:

“It’s not a Flame Technique! It’s the Imperial Golden Flame Divine Beast Art!”

“Another fake-ass Imperial knockoff? Well, I’m not a Wheel Demon Heretic either—it’s the Space-Time Hero Divine Calamity! Who’s a demon now!”

Veins bulged across the rooster-crest man’s forehead.

Fake-ass Imperial knockoff?! How blasphemous!

And what the hell’s a Divine Calamity?!

Even Yeon Pa twitched, veins pulsing.

That damn brat! I gave her a secret manual and this is what she does?!