Chapter 367: Be careful with flames when you wake up, let’s check even the extinguished ones again (10)

The expressions of the Jinyiwei officers hardened.

The Iron Crossbow was the most advanced weapon in the Central Plains.

A brutal siege crossbow that pierced steel plates with immense draw weight, even firing five bolts with a single shot.

But Mak Seok snorted.

"Oh, so this mangy dog reveals his traitorous intentions openly now? You dare point a bow at Lord Mak Seok of the Seventh Banner, loyal servant of His Majesty?"

"The Northern Army serves His Majesty as well."

"Are the filthy mutts that guard the yard trying to sit at the same table as the household servants? You lowly mongrels are just beasts that can be replaced anytime."

How dare a mere Commander act arrogantly. Replaceable, lowborn, insignificant trash.

Only dogs like you are beasts. At best, the Jinyiwei may call themselves servants worthy to serve His Majesty.

And you dare defy a noble officer of the Jinyiwei?

"You’ve never even slain a single Jurchen barbarian, yet your mouth runs wild. While the dogs guarded the house, you leeches did nothing but devour the rations. And now the parasites claim loyalty? You lot always flee first on the battlefield—what a fine repayment!"

Parasites fattening off the treasury, running their mouths.

Those cowards fled without even finishing the operation, and they talk of loyalty?

In the brutal clash of words, Qing thought,

Who was it who said—when you live as a slave, you brag about your chains? Was it chains? Shackles? Anklets?

A contest over who’s the better lapdog to His Majesty?

But Qing's attitude was inappropriate.

After all, culture is relative. You must respect differences.

The spirit of Zhongyuan could be summarized in two lines:

Those unwilling to be slaves, rise up!

If you rise up, we’ll ensure nothing happens to you!

Thus, only those eager to be slaves remained in Zhongyuan.

Of course, it became normal for the willing slaves to boast about how shiny their chains and collars were.

The character for "scholar" (士) came from the image of a person stretching out on the ground, showing submission.

Known as the "Five-Point Prostration" — full submission, lying flat, body pressed completely to the ground (proper form involves cracking your forehead in one blow).

Rumor has it those eastern barbarians confuse this with formal bowing.

So even the most respected scholars were lower than dogs, groveling on the ground.

Boasting about collars was not just habit—it was Zhongyuan itself.

But Qing could not understand.

And so, she lost interest.

They draw swords but only bark words?

Are they going to yip about who's the better mutt?

Then again, dogs that bark don’t bite...

Still, slipping away wasn’t a bad option.

Two precious passengers were loaded onto the cart.

Better to get them out safely.

If her body weren’t half broken, she’d slaughter them all—but her ribs were shredded like torn dumpling skins.

Depressing. Truly depressing.

Qing chomped her sweet potato with heartfelt anger.

Rage is power! Chew this world like I chew this sweet potato! Damn, why's it so sweet?

She bit into the sweet potato as if devouring the world.

Mak Seok of the Jinyiwei Seventh Banner was trembling.

He started the argument but now couldn’t control his own rage.

Damn it... Damn it...!

It wasn’t weakness making him tremble.

To him, the general was an inferior, a lowly country dog, a servant beneath notice.

When someone below you insults you, it infuriates you even more.

Meanwhile, the general, as a mere Commander, wasn’t greatly affected by insults from higher-ranked Jinyiwei.

They curse constantly anyway—nothing new.

So Mak Seok desperately searched for something to latch onto, eyes gleaming, ready to draw blood.

He spotted Qing still crunching on her sweet potato.

"You! You wench!"

Mak Seok immediately recognized Qing.

That massive frame, rope across the chest, cart behind her—must be that woman.

Fireworks exploded in his mind.

"You—you're all traitors! Rebellion, rebellion!"

"Mind your words. Rebellion? Aren’t you Jinyiwei known for framing innocents for rebellion to climb ranks? Seems the rumors were true."

"Don’t spout nonsense! You used that woman to strike the Jinyiwei with blades, didn’t you?"

Mak Seok pointed furiously at Qing.

The general followed his finger, sighed, and shook his head.

"Woman? What woman? Do you have a problem with your eyes? I see no woman here. You’re making things up now."

"Ahem. Indeed."

Qing chimed in with a man's voice.

But Qing's voice was unmatched in all under heaven.

Even forcing a raspy tone, her voice was still so smooth, so soft, it caressed the ear.

If you believed she was a man, maybe you’d dismiss it as unusually delicate.

But with suspicion, anyone would hear through the disguise.

"Damn... She really was a woman? That fabric looked like a woman’s veil... So you planned to sneak away from the start. Official, this one has no ties to our Northern Army."

"Ah."

Wait... suddenly I’m the public enemy? This disloyal bastard flipped his words?

Qing subtly placed a hand on the rope across her chest.

"Don’t make me laugh! I saw her carrying your unit’s banner! You hand your flag to a random woman?"

"That’s..."

"She struck down six Jinyiwei, left two more gravely wounded! You still deny your treason?"

"Speak properly. I was quietly pulling the cart when your side attacked first. I thought you were bandits. Yeah, I clearly heard someone shout to kill the Northern Army bastards waving their damned flag."

Qing stirred up discord.

A fabricated story, but it oddly hit the mark.

The general’s expression twisted.

"So you attacked at the sight of the Daesoon Army's banner? Official, what’s the meaning of this? You serve His Majesty yet attack His army without reason?"

"Hmph! I told you—see the fire line ignite, then retreat. But you brazenly fled, waving your flag. Letting you go would be dereliction!"

"Hmm."

The general let out a troubled groan.

Orders to die were still orders—disobeying was indeed a crime.

Sensing hesitation, Mak Seok’s confidence soared.

But his words betrayed his mindset—they were servants, the Northern Army mere guard dogs.

Servants never imagined the dogs might bite.

So seeing the general hesitate, he believed the man’s spirit faltered.

But the general’s real concern was different.

If they attacked just at the sight of the banner, then the Inspector hated the Daesoon Army profoundly.

If left alive, trouble would come.

Even if they had to fight His Majesty’s most loyal servants, survival came first.

Mak Seok, oblivious to the general's true thoughts, stood triumphantly.

"Indeed, you’re all suspicious. Answer me—who are you sneaking away in that cart?"

"They have nothing to do with Daesoon."

"Oh? I say there are rebels in that cart. Did you know traitors gather Madhu under their command? That woman’s one of them."

A deep frown etched between Qing's brows.

Madhu?

Me? They dare call me Madhu? Feeding on human blood for power, those freaks... And they compare me to them?

"You say they’re unrelated? Then prove your innocence. Execute the traitor yourself!"

At once—cha-cha-chak—the soldiers scattered, spears pointed at Qing.

Yeon Pa shoved Jayu further into the cart, casting Qing a determined look.

A look that said: leave me, save Jayu, run.

Qing sighed deeply.

No choice now.

She let out a heavy sigh—

"How dare you stand with heads high before me? How dare you lift your knees off the ground before the Emperor’s bloodline?"

"Kehaha! You finally reveal your true face! Clinging to some imperial status now? Forget it—your master’s a mere traitor. We’ll hold a funeral, sure, but even dead, his noble rank is stripped. Prepare your head!"

Fools—invoking the Prince of Deokhyeon’s authority wouldn’t sway those here.

Qing knew that well.

"You have eyes yet fail to see your master? Shall I rip them from your face? I am Yeonsul, granted the title of Princess! The direct imperial bloodline stands before you—and still your knees hover above the ground?"

I am the nation’s princess!

Her stern proclamation rang out.

Yes, Qing’s true identity—Yeonsul Princess, the direct heir to the imperial throne!

Silence blanketed the scene.

Caw, caw—

Starving winter crows pierced the sky with cries.

"...?"

The Jinyiwei stared, uncertain they heard right.

"...?"

The Northern Army looked equally baffled.

"...!"

Jayu, huddled under blankets, wore a look of sudden realization.

That horn-headed brat Sohal! That boar-sized brat... Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

"Sigh..."

Yeon Pa smacked his forehead.

"Huh? I’m saying I’m a princess. There’s a princess here. No kneeling?"

Both commanders shook their heads.

"You wench... Madhu wench... Your martial power’s fierce, but seems the demonic energy reached your brain."

"No wonder your strength impressed me—your mind’s long gone."

Sympathetic eyes turned toward her.

Qing glanced back.

Yeon Pa’s expression was pure disappointment, unimpressed by her ridiculous "I’m the princess" scheme.

She flushed with frustration.

What, what’s wrong with me?

Why does everyone act like it’s absurd I’m a princess?

Her filthy appearance didn’t help.

Cotton-stuffed, lopsided, ugly oversized winter clothes, puffed on one side.

Rope tight across her chest.

Half-eaten sweet potato in one hand, chewing noisily the whole argument.

A brawny cart-puller, strength like a champion wrestler—everyone saw.

And now, suddenly—surprise, I’m royalty?

Even dogs wouldn’t buy it.

Flustered, Qing’s face reddened, veins popping at her temple.

She reached behind, fumbling in her satchel.

Couldn’t grab it—"Ah, damn"—flipped the bag forward, buried her face, searching.

The crowd watched, half annoyed, half curious.

Finally, Qing found something, hurled it—

It arched toward Mak Seok.

He caught it instinctively, looked down.

An intricately carved jade token.

Mak Seok’s face turned pale.

A dragon and phoenix etched in gold.

Five-clawed dragon!

Nine-feathered phoenix!

Six-colored tassels: white, black, red, gold, blue—and the sacred purple.

This symbol belonged to one person alone—the Empress Dowager, mother of the nation.

Mak Seok blinked rapidly, rubbed his eyes, even dared to grope the token.

"This... this is real..."

Of course, it was real.

A mother’s heart, embodied, for her daughter.