Chapter 402: There’s One Restaurant on the Plain Hill, and Two Hammers (9)

The Earthwork Immortal Lady has reappeared at the construction site!

The return of the Earthwork Immortal Lady!

This was effectively a signal flare announcing that the victor of the spiritual showdown of the century—between the Earthwork Immortal Lady and the Curse of the Jin Family Manor—was none other than the Earthwork Immortal Lady herself.

Naturally, idle onlookers flocked to witness her prowess firsthand.

“Immortal Lady?”

“Are you truly the Earthwork Immortal Lady?”

“Oh-ho! What’s wrong with these people? Do you have eyes and still can’t see? If I’m not the Earthwork Immortal Lady, who else would I be?”

“Ah... her attire, yes, she must’ve been concealing her power...”

Jin Seol had stayed up all night crafting a new mubok (shamanic attire) for her—not entirely new, but rather a patchwork, with bits of fabric sewn onto an existing outfit.

Thanks to that, the colorful scraps that once fluttered wildly now harmonized with the overall garment, hugging and stretching along the elegant curves of the woman’s figure.

Except for the fact that the chest and hips were a bit too tightly wrapped, it was a splendid robe that expressed the majestic silhouette of qingyi (pure blue robes) with elegance and grandeur from head to toe.

Qing wasn’t particularly picky about her clothes.

Even so, one might wonder if Lady Jin had missed her calling—had she not become a martial artist, she might’ve made a name for herself across the Central Plains as a tailor.

“Oh-ho! What’s wrong with these people? Want to taste the divine power of my hammer? Can’t wipe that impure look off your face? I came out today planning to raise an entire house, tsk tsk.”

But today, it wasn’t her supernatural strength that people were hoping to see.

Everyone was itching to hear the truth about that night—the solemn confrontation between the Earthwork Immortal Lady and the Curse.

“Um, Immortal Lady? We heard you had quite a commotion during the night...”

“Wasn’t anything special. Some vile thing showed up at the shrine in the middle of the night, so I simply drove it away. No matter how terrifying a curse is, it’s still made by man, isn’t it? And when General Xiang Yu gives a single roar, the thing scatters in terror, shrieking and vanishing like smoke.”

Qing, fully immersed in her shaman performance, declared.

Her voice rang out sharply, piercing and commanding—anyone hearing her would assume she was a seasoned shaman through and through.

“Immortal Lady? Aren’t you cold in this weather? On days like this, rather than hammering in the freezing wind, shouldn’t you be sipping some warm wine?”

“Hm. Should I?”

In the Central Plains, it was a long-held tradition to trade stories for tea or wine.

And so, a steaming hot cup of huangjiu was placed in front of her.

Huangjiu is best enjoyed warm, after all.

Downing the free wine in one go, Qing began her tale.

“After I finished the construction at the Jin Manor, I was setting out the leftover materials when a sudden thought struck me—ah, perhaps I’ll have an unwelcome visitor tonight. That’s the instinct of the number one carpenter in Henan. But who am I? I’m the number one carpenter in Henan. Some trifling evil spirit isn’t worth fearing, so I simply went to bed early.”

The crowd tilted their heads.

What the hell is the "number one carpenter in Henan’s intuition"?

And what do carpenters have to do with evil spirits?

Do Henan carpenters beat up ghosts or something?

Is it because of the Shaolin Temple?

“But then, in the middle of the night, I heard the sound of something sinister seeping in and woke up. Do you know what it sounds like when a ghost enters? Saaaak, the night wind blows cold, and from a place far beyond what human ears can hear... step... step... footsteps approach.”

The listeners swallowed hard.

“So I quietly hid myself, to figure out what kind of curse I was dealing with. And then, as the evil spirit rushed into the Wu-Mi Family Shrine, ding-a-ling ding-a-ling, the bell meant to repel demons began ringing wildly on its own. It rang so violently I thought it was going to shatter.”

“And? What happened next?!”

“And so, I locked eyes with the wretched thing—never in my life have I seen such eyes. Twisted with evil energy, gleaming like a beast’s. That thing had definitely eaten more than a few humans.”

Qing lowered her voice.

“But from this point on—”

“Jeomsoi! Bring more huangjiu! Quickly!”

“The Earthwork Immortal Lady prefers this brand, yes? Actually, let’s order every variety!”

In the Central Plains, it's customary for a storyteller to pause right here.

It’s like saying “to be continued in thirty seconds” or “we’ll return after this ad break” in her hometown.

And so, the trained listeners respectfully placed new offerings atop the now-clean table.

Qing blinked.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to ask for more wine...”

It was absurd. But, hmm. Still nice.

Qing downed another large cup of huangjiu, then composed herself again.

“I’m not drinking because I’m thirsty—it’s just that what I’m about to say is so grim. Do you know what that curse really was?”

“Curses don’t form on their own. Have you ever seen something arise out of nothing? Curses are the same—someone created that curse. It means someone wanted to do great harm to the Jin Family Manor. They killed a person, forged a curse from malicious intent, and released it.”

“Then—who was it? Was it... them?”

One onlooker added a dramatic interjection.

Them—the ones whose names must not be spoken.

Not literal nose-less sorcerers like in Western fables, but the unorthodox scum of the martial world.

In cities ruled by the unorthodox path, commoners didn’t dare speak their names aloud.

But Qing shook her head.

“Honestly, even I can’t say for sure. I’m the kind of person who can tear evil spirits apart with divine might, like General Xiang Yu—but even if I traced the roots of that curse, do you think the wicked scum behind it would actually confess?”

“Then... does that mean the curse on the Jin Family Manor is gone?”

“No. Not yet.”

Qing answered firmly.

“See, curses don’t just vanish if they fail. They go back to their caster. The one who created the curse. Haven’t you heard the saying? If you plan to curse someone, dig two graves.”

The onlookers looked confused.

Qing also looked confused.

...Wait, was that not it?

Wasn’t it supposed to be something else you dug? Or maybe three graves, not two?

Wasn’t that a famous saying?

Because, well, it wasn’t a Central Plains proverb—it came from those foreign islanders.

“It means: if you want to curse someone, dig your enemy’s grave and also your own. Because even if the curse works, it demands its due from its master. That’s why you have to dig your own grave too.”

“Then, are you saying even if the curse succeeds, its caster gets hurt?”

“That’s the terrifying part of curses. That’s why, since ancient times, people avoided curses and black arts. But what’s even more terrifying is when the curse fails. Do you know what happens when a curse fails against someone as spiritually potent as me?”

“Wh-what happens?”

Qing finally got to the point.

“It takes its rage out on its master. Since I drove out that vile curse, it’ll return to its creator and do grievous harm. If anyone in Guangzhou ends up in deep, deep trouble—then that is the one who cursed the Jin Family Manor.”

The crowd’s eyes sparkled.

There was going to be someone in Guangzhou who suffered terribly.

A foreshadowing of chaos. A huge spectacle. A jackpot of drama.

The audience was already shifting in their seats, lips twitching, itching to spread the story far and wide.

And Qing added another spoonful to the stew.

“But curses have this habit of recognizing those who know of them. Since you’ve all now heard about the curse of the Jin Family Manor from me... if you’re unlucky, you might be struck by misfortune yourselves.”

People of the Central Plains had a particular love for superstition.

“Gasp. Then what should we do...”

“She’s not going to try and sell us talismans, is she?”

It was about that time in the con where the shaman turns merchant.

Those who were superstitious or faint of heart already looked ready to pull out their coin pouches.

Others, skeptical but cautious, figured they might as well buy a charm if the price wasn’t too bad.

And still others began scowling, getting ready to storm off after declaring they’d been duped.

But Qing clicked her tongue loudly.

“Tsk! Do you take me for a peddler? You think I’d tell you all this just to let misfortune befall you? I have a method—why else would I share this tale?”

“Th-then what is it!?”

“Spread the story far and wide. Let every person in Guangzhou hear of the curse. When everyone knows about it, the curse will assume its fame is natural and won’t bother responding. So tell people the curse was broken, and that it’s now lashing out at its master. Let them know that soon, someone will suffer great harm. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Fortunately, it didn’t cost a thing.

And since they already desperately wanted to gossip, it was practically a task they’d been waiting for.

“Now then. I’ve received your wine and snacks. Go, and spread word of the curse—only then will you avoid misfortune. The more people who know, the safer you’ll all be. So go forth and tell the world.”

And so, like disciples receiving a divine mandate, the crowd leapt up and rushed off to spread the teachings of the number one carpenter in Henan.

The common folk would ask one another, “Have you heard the tale?” It was a dark and ominous story—but thrilling to the ear, and by listening to it, one could ensure their own safety.

And the listener would reply, “I have long awaited such a tale through this bitter winter. So storyteller, accept this cup of wine, and grant a poor traveler relief from his boredom.”

And thus, thanks to the Central Plains’ love of gossip and fear of curses, the newly updated rumor spread like wildfire through the dry winter streets.

And the hottest topic in Chang’an became: the curse.

Did the curse described by the Earthwork Immortal Lady really turn on its master?

And who was the master?

And if they were to suffer “great harm,” how great would that be?

A perfect topic for chatter during the farming off-season.

Some scoffed, saying the Earthwork Immortal Lady was just a charlatan.

Others pointed out that the Jin Manor was still standing after construction—wasn’t that proof enough of her divine power?

And so betting pools sprang up on the spot.

There were all kinds of bets:

—Who would be struck by the returned curse?

—When it would happen?

—Whether the Earthwork Immortal Lady truly had divine power, and if disaster really would come?

Thus, countless people in Guangzhou, and all the money placed on the line, waited for the next disaster to unfold.

****

Naturally, the ominous rumors crept into the Killing Moon Sect as well.

That those who had cast a curse upon the Jin Family Manor would, in turn, suffer great misfortune from their own curse.

Upon hearing this, Sect Master Yi Wangchul began pacing furiously through the Sect Master’s Hall.

“What the hell are those Jin Manor bastards scheming?”

But Strategist Bang remained calm.

“They’ve just announced their intent for revenge. ‘Grudge repays grudge,’ ‘blood repays blood.’ That sort of thing.”

‘Grudge repays grudge’ meant to return hatred with hatred.

‘Blood repays blood’ was about cleansing with blood—classic sayings about enacting revenge with equal force.

It was slightly different from that Western expression, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Back in the West, that was a law to restrict violence. If someone shoved your shoulder, you weren’t supposed to kill them—just shove them back. It was a plea to value human life even during retribution.

So an eye for an eye wasn’t about revenge—it was about mercy.

But in the Central Plains, such timid sentiments should be fed to the dogs.

Here, if you weren’t ruthless, you weren’t a real man.

Revenge was practically an essential human trait.

Still, even in the Central Plains, there was another truth:

A gentleman’s revenge is never too late.

Meaning, true men hide their wrath, bide their time, and strike later with precision.

That was a virtue all its own.

So, the Jin family had publicly stirred the pot, making it known they would retaliate.

It was no wonder Yi Wangchul was anxious, claiming something big was coming.

If it came to a full-blown war between factions, the unorthodox sects of Guangzhou could unite and overpower the Jin family.

But if underhanded tricks were involved, the first to suffer would be the Sect Master himself.

After all, Jin Jakang was a peak expert.

What if he launched a surprise attack in the middle of one of Yi Wangchul’s leisure sessions—with prostitutes on his lap, booze in one hand and other indulgences in the other?

“They’ve played it smart,” Strategist Bang said.

“If the Jin bastards make a move and don’t get caught, rumors will claim we were the ones who cursed °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° them. And even if they do get caught, it won’t matter. Their justification is already ironclad.”

Yet again, Strategist Bang remained calm.

A truly reliable man.

Yi Wangchul grabbed him by the arm.

“Then, then what should we do?”

“For now, lie low. Act like the sect is sealed. No more solo operations from the disciples either. Since the rumors are out about some impending calamity, they’ll definitely try to pin something on us. If we come out unscathed, it’ll only make the Jin clan look like fools. And if we don't retaliate, what’ll happen? A mere midnight raid at most.”

He was suggesting they deliberately shut down all operations for a while and endure it—let the Jin family try something sneaky, and limit the damage.

“But that raid itself is the problem.”

“The Jin clan is short on manpower. And each of their martial artists is a direct blood relative—they’re assets they can’t afford to lose. If we manage to capture just one or two, they’ll have no choice but to back off.”

As always, Strategist Bang remained composed.

And when the strategist held his ground, his lord would find calm and courage as well.

“Indeed! You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Truly, you are my Zhang Liang! No, I’d say you’re even better than Zhang Liang!”

Yi Wangchul showered him with praise.

And then—it happened.

Urgent footsteps came thundering toward the hall.

No one had called them in, yet the doors to the Sect Master’s Hall flew open with a crash, almost torn off the hinges.

“You bastard, how many times have I told you—wait for permission before barging in—!”

“Something terrible has happened! It’s the Golden Talisman Guild! The Golden Talisman Guild—!”

“The Golden Talisman? What about those bastards?”

“The Golden Talisman Guild has been wiped out! The whole place’s been reduced to rubble!”

****

And elsewhere...

Qing heard the news too.

“...Huh.”

Qing was dumbfounded.

What the hell?

Why the hell did Golden Talisman Guild suddenly get destroyed?