Chapter 392: Let’s Have Some Real Fun (8)

Qing's eyes narrowed into sharp slits.

This guy, who had been eating, drinking, and living just fine—what did he suddenly mean by pledging allegiance to the Blood Cult?

What was it? A performance? Senility? Or was it just a roundabout way of saying he wanted to die?

“The Blood Cult wouldn’t think it a bad deal either, no? I’m one of the top ten toxicologists when it comes to snake venom. My medical skills might not be world-class, but still, a physician who knows martial arts? That’s rare.”

“You’re getting more absurd by the minute. And?”

“Mm. Right. I mean, is there something I need to prove before joining the Blood Cult? Would they just believe me if I claimed I wanted in now?”

“Well. I suppose not?”

Now that he mentioned it, Qing was curious.

The Blood Cult must have their own way of verifying things, right?

Even the Orthodox and Unorthodox sects, not to mention the Demonic Cult, find them revolting. Shouldn’t someone have infiltrated by now and leaked their movements so the whole Martial World could launch a joint strike?

“Ahem. So anyway, I severed the Yoga line myself and left. I even burned the registry while I was at it. Yoga Flame Hall is finished. Completely ruined.”

No wonder his karmic burden seemed lighter.

But more than that, what really bothered her—

“Eh. What about him?”

Qing pointed at Yomin, who was nervously rolling his eyes in the corner.

Her long, pale finger landed on him, and Yomin visibly flinched, unable to hide his panic.

“Wasn’t he the third son? I definitely saw him causing trouble in Rooster Forest Sword Sect. You said you severed the line?”

“I’ve decided to take him as my disciple. Poor kid was abandoned by his parents, trampled on by his siblings. He’s got that kind of bottled-up rage inside. Even fed his own brothers deadly poison. That’s how much malice he’s carrying.”

“Master? A disciple—?”

“Ah ah. Now tell me—isn’t he just perfect for the Blood Cult? Born to be a Blood Cultist, I’d say.”

As Qing’s mask turned, Yomin flinched again.

Surviving a clash with Qing meant his karmic sins didn’t hit triple digits.

From what she remembered—him licking dirt—he didn’t seem like the type with a heart full of venom?

“Born to join the Blood Cult,” though... what kind of nonsense was that?

“So then, why?”

“Why do you want to join the Blood Cult? You’re a perfectly decent physician.”

“The Unorthodox bastards abandoned me first. They’d been quietly looking down on me for a while now. Guess I wasn’t respectable enough to be taken seriously.”

And now the man who’d once served the Unorthodox Union was openly calling them “bastards.”

“They looked down on you? You?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started.”

He claimed to be one of the top ten in snake venom toxicology.

Normally, anyone who says they’re “top ten” is just being pitiful.

Those ranked sixth or seventh usually toss out the top five to squeeze themselves into fifth place.

So the ones claiming to be top ten are generally sitting around eighth to thirteenth—somewhere in that vague in-between.

And Bo Yeol wasn’t even top ten in all poisons—just snake venom.

He was aware of his own mediocrity.

At over eighty years old, with no sign of ever reaching Huajing (Transcendent Realm), he’d long since given up on that path.

Knowing he was too dim-witted to master all poisons, he’d focused on snake venom alone.

But even in that field, people like the Divine Physician, the Ten-Thousand-Poison Sage, or Flesh-Melting Master were far more advanced.

As for his medical skill—it was about what you’d expect from a senile country doctor. Nothing that would get his name in a medical text.

“Aw, don’t think like that. You’re a famous dark master, and you’ve lived past eighty. That alone is impressive.”

“Thanks for saying so. But it just means death isn’t far off. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it up to the top floor of the Dragon Palace Pavilion here in Namnyeong, even once.”

“So you’re going to the Blood Cult to get revenge?”

“More like... I mean, sure, revenge. I’ll drown this world in blood. What does the Blood Cult shout again? Blood Ascension? Bloody Sky Uprising?”

“Why’re you asking me that? You could’ve joined the Orthodox instead, you know.”

“The Orthodox don’t indulge personal vendettas. And if the top Unorthodox masters come charging in one by one, armed with excuses—what then?”

“Mm. Well. I get it. So then, why did you call me?”

“Because I need your help. Introduce me to the Blood Cult. Hm?”

“Eh? Me?”

Qing blinked.

“It’s not a bad deal for you either, is it? I am a Transcendent Realm Level master, after all.”

“Why do you keep bringing up my perspective?”

Come to think of it, that seemed to be his catchphrase—always with the “Wouldn’t it be good for you, too?”

“Hey. People are all the same in the end, no? Even the Blood Cult has factions and power struggles, doesn’t it? It’s better to have clear allies. And what’s more useful in a faction war than a master of deadly poison?”

“Gods, what kind of grandpa plans to poison people in faction fights... And seriously, why do you keep asking me about Blood Cult stuff?”

“Well, if not you, then who should I ask?”

“Eh?”

Qing froze, then pointed a slender finger at her own throat.

“The Blood Cult?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not in the Blood Cult.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you the Witch of the Minority Demon Arts?”

“Ugh, I’m not the Witch of the Minority Demon Arts. Just because I learned Minority Flame Arts doesn’t make me one.”

“If you learn medicine, you’re a physician. If you learn swordsmanship, you’re a {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} swordsman. And if you’ve mastered Minority Flame Arts, how are you not the Witch of the Minority Demon Arts?”

“It’s not Minority Flame Arts. It’s Divine Maiden Beast Art, thank you very much.”

This time, it was Bo Yeol who froze.

“Divine Maiden Beast Art?”

“Divine Maiden Beast Art.”

“Not Minority Flame?”

“Well... it might sound a bit similar, I guess. Easy mistake to make?”

Bo Yeol exploded.

“That makes no damn sense!”

“Why not?”

Qing was unbothered.

Bo Yeol was speechless.

“You think I’m a fool?”

“C’mon. It’s about trust.”

“This isn’t a matter of trust—no, wait a minute.”

Bo Yeol’s eyes narrowed.

“You were acting like the Witch of the Minority Demon Arts in front of me. You even accepted the poison.”

“Ah.”

A little triangle of conscience spun in circles inside Qing’s chest.

Of course, after being worn down in the martial world, it was a nearly round triangle now, so it didn’t exactly stab her in the heart.

“Hehe. Sorry.”

“What!?”

“But I really wanted that Ten-Fold Supreme Poison. You could kill a dark master with a single dose! Imagine if three dark masters suddenly vanished—how much more beautiful the world would be! You’d be doing something good, wouldn’t you say? That’d be a merit, too. And, well, like you said, it wouldn’t be a bad thing from your point of view, right?”

“You—you never intended to keep the promise, did you?”

“Sorry.”

“What if I expose your identity?”

“That the Heavenly Flame Sword is secretly the Witch of the Minority Demon Arts? Who’d believe that? Especially coming from a dark master? Would you believe it?”

“My reputation isn’t that trivial. If I say I saw it with my own eyes—”

Bo Yeol’s words cut off.

Qing’s fingertips went black, and the color bled up her sleeve in an instant.

A violet demonic aura crackled to life across her pitch-black hand.

“There. Now that you’ve seen it, shall I say I’ve also mastered Black Killing Palm and Self-Rotating Demonic Qi?”

“Uh, huh?”

Then Bo Yeol remembered something else.

“Why not say you’ve mastered the Samsara Demon Eyes too?”

“Wait—you have, haven’t you? Damn, those really are potent...”

“Think people would believe you now?”

“Pfft. And why not?”

“Alright, what if I claimed that Moon Jeongyeok was secretly an undercover Orthodox agent who had learned the Taiji Sword—”

“What!? That bastard!? I knew it! I knew it was too weird how he always guessed everything right! That conniving little mole was just biding his time to eliminate me! He really was a damn Orthodox spy!”

What kind of dark master was this gullible?

Well, she’d fooled him not once, not twice, but three times.

Qing let out a long sigh.

Whew. Just... whew.

But oddly enough, there were two sighs from one mouth.

When she turned her head, she saw Yomin letting out a big breath and scrambling to hide behind his master.

“Uh, Master. I think Lady Qing was just asking if people would believe Moon Jeongyeok was an Orthodox mole, not that he actually was one...”

“What? Ah. Right. Of course. That makes more sense...”

Then again, didn’t he seem way too shocked?

Still, after being conned three separate times for poison, Qing decided to just shut her mouth and quietly observe.

“I trusted you. How could you?”

“It was between the Orthodox and Unorthodox, right? Besides, you were the one making threats—saying you’d reveal my identity. Who’s the one pulling what now?”

“You little wretch!”

Bo Yeol leapt up, fist raised.

From under his long sleeve, the head of a white snake hissed a soft, playful threat.

Qing didn’t back down, knocking her chair over and resting her hand on the hilt of her Wave-Cutting Sword.

“Hmph. Fine, let’s go all in today! I was gonna let it slide since I’ve grown attached, but Blood Cult, huh? You think you’re some great demonic master now?”

The two stared each other down.

The white snake kept hissing, warning her not to touch its master, while Yomin silently moved to stand at his master’s right side.

It was the side a blade’s first swing would strike—he was saying he’d take the hit first.

Qing let out a deep sigh.

“Anyway, you’re saying you’ve got nowhere else to go, right? Can’t join the Orthodox.”

“Khm. Yeah, that’s true.”

“Want me to introduce you to a merchant group? It’s small—well, actually, not that small anymore. Pretty big now. Not a bad place to quietly run a clinic and live out your days.”

Qing thought of Seol’s group and Choi Riong.

Their karmic debt seemed to shrink every time she saw them. Must be spending their earnings on good deeds. Adding a physician would be even better.

“But didn’t I say I’ve got grudges chasing me? Those Unorthodox bastards will definitely try something.”

“They’ve got lots of strong folks there. Tons.”

Not just Choi Riong—even the porters, laborers, even the kitchen aunties were all experts.

Probably runaway Demonic Cultists. Or... de-culted? Is that too grand a term? Ex-cultists? Something like that.

Of course, none of them admitted to having left the Demonic Cult.

But if Qing ever declared she was a deserter, they’d become ex-cultists the moment the words left her mouth. Such loyal fanatics.

And being at Seol’s Merchant Guild meant she could stop by now and then to pick up some poisons.

Poison. So good. Absolutely the best.

Tastes great. Works great. Good for me, good for others. What a miracle.

“Khm. Still... would that be alright?”

“If you’re okay with it, go ahead. Everyone there’s got their own story. They’ll understand.”

“Then... I’ll impose on them a bit.”

Not exactly dramatic, but the negotiation was settled.

Qing picked up her chair, and Bo Yeol plopped back into the one Yomin had set up.

“Head to Jagwi County in the west of Hubei Province. Ask for Seol’s Merchant Guild. Just say I sent you.”

“Will just saying it be enough? Maybe give me a token or something?”

Qing pulled out a steel hairpin and handed it over.

She could always retrieve it later when she visited.

And then, with sparkling eyes, she asked:

“Oh. By the way, your snake—does it bite? Can I touch it? I mean, I don’t care if it bites. Can I?”

“Oh! Of course! Snakes are gentle creatures. Only the ignorant think they’re fierce. They’re not fierce, just sensitive. Honestly, there’s no animal as smart as a snake...”

Bo Yeol’s face lit up.

Anyone talking about something they loved always ended up beaming.

That, right there, was why Bo Yeol sold snake venom.

In the end, if you summed up Qing’s “introduction,” it was exactly this:

She dumped him in the middle of a hideout full of true, hardcore demonic cultists, just so she could squeeze some premium poison out of him.

And Bo Yeol, not knowing a thing, just kept rambling about how wonderful snakes were.

Because, well—truly naïve people just keep getting duped forever.