Chapter 384: I Told You to Go Have Some Fun, Didn’t I? (14)

The martial artist had no way of knowing whether the veiled woman was really the Heavenly Flower Sword.

But he’d been thrown out of the inn and lost consciousness, and afterward, hadn’t he just been getting one-sidedly slaughtered by the wandering singer, the veiled woman, and that barbarian bitch?

So this wasn’t running away, absolutely not—it was turning back to report this critical incident.

He’d turned his back on his comrades with a heart torn to shreds.

Sahun’s response was a hand raised high to her head level.

The unorthodox martial artist shrank his neck.

But he wasn’t a turtle, so no matter how much he shrank it, his head didn’t exactly disappear into his body.

Still, it was an attempt to lessen the blow, however futile—

“Hm. No, actually. That’s not a bad idea.”

Sahun slowly lowered her arm.

It was the moment the unorthodox martial artist relaxed and started to extend his neck again—

Smack!

A slap came a beat late, and his head snapped sideways.

“That’s what I call mocking your squad leader. You expect me to believe bullshit a dog wouldn’t swallow?”

“I’m sorry!”

What, a righteous martial master—even one with supreme-level martial power—would resort to hiring assassins?

And what kind of client would go out of their way to join the fight right alongside the assassins they’d supposedly sent?

But the idea of roping in the Heavenly Flower Sword—that was clever. Actually pretty damn good.

It might even serve as justification to break the current stalemate.

Even if that wasn’t really the Heavenly Flower Sword, wasn't it too extreme to kill eight people just for harassing a single woman?

In other words, they’d just found an excuse to pick a fight.

With that, Sahun scampered over to the leaders of the two upper-tier combat squads.

“I hear that bitch, the Heavenly Flower Sword, has been strutting around Namnyeong like it’s her own backyard lately?”

White Tiger Squad leader Mun Jeongyeok ground his teeth.

“Damn right. That cursed bitch. She just got lucky with her timing, showing up when the Prince came into town, and now she’s acting like she owns the place. Parading around like that in the Sacred Blade Alliance’s territory.”

“Now, now. Didn’t Zhuge Liang provoke Sun Quan into joining the war? She’s just trying to get under your skin to force you to act. It’s a classic strategy—baiting the enemy into moving first..”

That was Filfail Strategist Jo Gwangang rattling off war tactics again.

“Oh, shut it with that war manual crap. What kind of scheme could a little girl barely past puberty be pulling? She’s just a brat roaming foreign lands without a clue.”

“Tsk tsk. The opponent’s a top-tier martial master. You planning to make the mistake of underestimating her? As the saying goes, if you know your enemy and—”

“—you’ll win every battle! Yeah, I know that much!”

“Tsk tsk. It’s not ‘win every battle.’ It’s ‘never put yourself in danger across a hundred battles.’ If you’re gonna quote the classics, do it right.”

At Jo Gwangang’s scolding, Mun Jeongyeok’s face turned beet red.

Just as he was about to explode and shout something back—

Sahun opened her mouth at the perfect moment.

“Ahem. That bitch’s behavior has been bothering me too, so I already instructed the Black Bear Squad members—if they run into her during their patrols, provoke her a little.”

“Excellent! Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t we think to provoke her first? You’ve got a brain on your shoulders, huh?”

Sahun’s eye twitched.

There may be a hierarchy between White-grade and Black-grade squads, but Sahun was still the elder.

Even if her squad’s grade was lower and her martial power lacking—at least she was older.

And yet, you’ve got a brain on your shoulders?

That was why Sahun had been holding her tongue until now.

“So, your visit here means you’ve found something useful?”

At least the so-called “Number One Sword of Bokju” still had some sense.

Sahun opened her mouth again.

“She showed up at the inn, and since there was a wandering singer performing nearby, she must’ve felt like toying with them. Of course, she flared up and drew her sword. And then—she went and slaughtered eight of the Sacred Blade Alliance’s martial artists.”

It’s all about how you frame the story.

The experience of a martial artist who’d been rolling around for over fifty years was now in play.

In that moment, she transformed from an incompetent squad leader who’d lost eight subordinates due to poor command, to a shrewd tactician who executed a bold scheme to gain justification and exchanged her men’s lives for an unexpectedly massive political gain.

The two squad leaders’ eyes glinted.

“She dared to harm great warriors of the Sacred Blade Alliance!”

“Reckless little bitch doesn’t know her limits. So now she’s drawn blood.”

Despite eight deaths, Jo Gwangang let out a delighted chuckle and pulled another scheme from his sleeve.

“If she drew first, then we’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Let’s escalate this. The Prince is staying at the Rooster Forest Sword Sect Manor, isn’t he? Not somewhere else? If we start erasing those goody-two-shoes orthodox warriors one by one, those bastards holed up in Rooster Forest Sword Sect Manor will soon realize clinging to the Prince won’t save them.”

Mun Jeongyeok nodded and said:

“Oh-ho. Did I just hear you call him the Prince? Then you’re acknowledging the result of our bet, huh? ‘Filfail Strategist’ Jo Gwangang. What a fitting nickname.”

Jo Gwangang’s face crumpled.

Mun Jeongyeok grinned in satisfaction and went on.

“But setting that aside—someone’s gotta teach that wild filly a lesson for galloping around without any fear of her elders in the martial world.”

“Hmph. You think you can handle her? That bitch supposedly killed the Flame Demon Lord.”

Jo Gwangang sneered, clearly irritated.

“I hear she frequents the Dragon Palace Pavilion. Just send some of those sewer rat bastards to slip her a dose of paralytic poison or Mountain Venom. Get a little help from the Elder Pharmacist, eh? But... come to think of it, that old man hasn’t shown his face at all lately. Maybe he’s sulking because his little scheme didn’t pan out?”

Note: ‘Sewer rat bastards’ is how unorthodox factions refer to members of the Hao Clan.

Mun Jeongyeok said that, glancing at Jo Gwangang.

Jo Gwangang just shrugged with an expression that said, Why are you looking at me?—as if he hadn’t been the one who sent that anonymous warning letter that threw Rooster Forest’s disciples and chefs into chaos.

“Well, anyway. If we bring in enough spectators and publicly humiliate her in front of the sect’s name, she won’t be able to run away. So, what does your precious war manual call that move?”

“Um, well...”

Human schemes don’t always fit neatly into labeled stratagems.

As Jo Gwangang hesitated, Mun Jeongyeok, now fully amused, started to mock him.

“Can’t spit out the answer, huh? Didn’t study enough of those books? If you’ve read them hundreds of times and still can’t respond quickly, maybe it’s time to read them a few hundred more.”

Jo Gwangang’s face contorted in frustration.

****

Evening, just after dark.

Bo Yeol had said he’d give her five days. But on the sixth, another note arrived.

“8 p.m. – Stone Peak Room.”

That was it. One line.

Unless he’d run completely out of materials, that curt message said everything: Bo Yeol was furious.

Stone Peak?

They named the guest rooms by gemstones, trees, flowers, insects, and animals in that order—so if she was in Stone Peak now, that meant she’d dropped another rank. Probably ended up somewhere near the “Bee” room.

Was the old man falling out of favor?

Well, whatever.

Qing tossed the note into the brazier with a flick of her wrist.

If she could wrangle just one more vial of Blood Venom, she’d call it a win.

This might be the last one he had.

For all his age and skill, Bo Yeol had a weirdly gullible side. If she played him right, maybe he’d cough up another.

She snapped her fingers with a smirk.

****

That same night.

Bo Yeol was pacing the narrow room like a man ready to combust.

“That damned girl,” he muttered. “It’s one thing to be disrespectful, but now I’m just a fool to her? She never planned to keep the damn promise. Arrogant little brat.”

Talking to himself was second nature.

He stormed back and forth like a cranky old thundercloud, grumbling nonstop.

“I ought to strangle her. Thinks she can just play me like—”

Knock knock.

A sudden knock on the door cut him off.

He snapped toward it, voice full of thunder:

“Come in, you little—!”

He stopped short.

It wasn’t Qing. The outfit said it all—just one of the inn’s serving girls.

He cleared his throat, straightened slightly.

“Ahem. What is it?”

“One of the guests in the Dragon Room has asked for you, sir...”

She had the look of someone who knew she was about to get yelled at for no reason. She shrank a little under his sharp energy, voice dropping as she finished.

“Guest in the Dragon Room?” Bo Yeol repeated. “Asked for me? Who? Do they even know who I am?”

“I’m not sure, sir. The guest was veiled and... they specifically requested the elder staying in the Stone Peak Room be escorted up. They were very polite about it.”

A veiled guest who knew he was in Stone Peak?

It could only be her.

Bo Yeol set off immediately for the top floor of the Dragon Palace Pavilion.

The air changed before he even reached the door—golden lighting, red silk tapestries, jewel-inlaid trim. The entire hallway glittered like a treasure chest, even in the middle of the night.

He knocked.

The door opened—and there she was, Qing, no veil, smiling like nothing was wrong.

“Oh! You made it!”

“You’ve got some gall, calling your elders around like delivery boys—what the hell is that smell?”

A sharp, fragrant tea aroma hit him square in the face.

“A Grand Apothecary, stuck in the Stone Peak Room? That just didn’t sit right with me. I went ahead and got this room for you. You should rest properly tonight. And look—perfect timing. I brewed some six-step tea, just for you.”

“Hmph. I didn’t come here for tea, you know.”

Of course, etiquette training under Lady Ximen included formal tea ceremony.

Qing had been practically branded with it.

She didn’t usually bother, but when she did—her technique was flawless.

And Bo Yeol? A tea fanatic. He could tell everything about the leaves and the brew just from the aroma.

Qing gently skimmed off the first pour using the lid—Spring Breeze Over Still Water, a classic touch.

Bo Yeol took a cup, examining it.

Color. Fragrance. Temperature.

Perfect.

His grumbling vanished as a smile crept to his lips.

“Hmph. Looks like you were properly trained.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I still have a long way to go.”

All that fire and fury he brought in? Gone.

Bo Yeol sipped his tea, completely relaxed now, savoring the richness of the six-step blend.

“Damn, this is good. I thought I’d never taste a proper cup of tea in this place. You’re better than that salt-selling punk.”

“Hehe. What else would you expect from a guy who sells salt? All he’s got is brine.”

“Right? Exactly! Tsk. Unbelievable.”

Three infusions later, lingering in the aftertaste, Bo Yeol finally remembered why he was here.

He frowned slightly.

“Ahem. So... the deadline passed. What happened?”

“Oh, don’t even ask. I can’t take a single bite without someone stabbing blowdarts into the meat. Poison’s the least of the problem—the whole dish is ruined from the start.”

“What?!”

“I heard there’s been trouble on your side. Someone sent an anonymous warning about poison. That wasn’t you, right?”

“Who besides you and me even knows the plan—hm.”

Bo Yeol’s voice cut off. His eyes narrowed.

Something clicked.

Those damn bastards. They’re jealous an old man like me is still pulling strings?

It wasn’t even a personal mission. The faster this job got done, the sooner everyone could leave this backwater dump.

And yet they were sabotaging it.

“So it was someone from your side, huh? You ask me to do the job, then trip it up yourself?”

“Ahem. I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure. But if anyone else tries to deliver poison, it’s bound to fail. Which is why I was wondering... do you happen to have one more bottle?”

“What!? You mean it failed!?”

“‘Failed’ is a strong word... I mean...”

Qing let her voice fade out.

She couldn’t exactly admit she’d done nothing at all.

“How was I supposed to know someone would send a tip-off letter? And they stuck five blowdarts into the food...”

She trailed off again, this time with a pitiful look.

If she’d acted like a brat, he would’ve blown up. But after serving flawless tea and poking guilt over the letter? He didn’t have much left to throw at her.

“This is the last one. I don’t have any more. So make it work this time. I’ll give you another five days. Don’t screw this one up.”

Hell yes. Third bottle secured.

Qing smiled to herself and tucked the vial of ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Blood Venom into her sleeve.

****

Meanwhile, the waitress who had gotten yelled at for no reason hurried downstairs—and kept going, down to the underground level.

It wasn’t because she was feeling sorry for herself and needed to cry in a corner.

In fact, she liked being treated like a nobody.

She was one of those who used her low status to pull strings in the shadows.

She was part of a group known in the martial world as the Hao Clan.