Chapter 413: When Mom Follows the Shamans to the Hills (9)

The Blue Dragon Trading Guild always seemed to have rare foreign goods springing up from somewhere.

No one had ever seen them embark on a proper trade expedition, yet there they were — a mystery wrapped in silk and sandalwood.

Officially, they claimed it was because they conducted extremely secretive and mystical trade missions.

In truth, there wasn’t a soul in Gwangju who didn’t know that the “mystery” was nothing more than brazen disregard for national law — smuggling across the sea.

Of course, Qing had never been the type to foam at the mouth and scream “death penalty!” out of patriotic zeal just because someone ignored a law not even a dog would bother to guard (though, granted, the dog should probably be asked for its opinion).

But what she could not forgive was this — the rowers weren’t just forced labor; they were also the Guild’s main merchandise.

They crossed the sea powered by the very slaves they intended to sell.

If one died along the way, that day’s stew had a bit more “meat” in it.

Product, propulsion, labor, and food all in one — a pinnacle of “efficiency” so innovative even Western hook-noses would have to tip their hats.

Or perhaps it was less a breakthrough in division of labor and more a leap backward into total consolidation.

“Great Hero, I don’t care what happens to me — please, just save my children!”

“Father! No! I’ll take the punishment instead!”

“No! Great Hero, it’s all my unworthy fault — please, take my life and grant them mercy!”

A whole family falling over themselves to take the blame — the kind of touching scene you’d never expect to find in the Dark Sects.

Qing smiled brightly, though of course her face veil kept that smile from being seen.

“Wow. Listen to this old guy. Hey, did I say I was killing anyone? Pohee, did you hear him? He thinks I’m some evil killing fiend.”

“That’s right. Too much. Sure, you do like killing people, but you’re such a nice killing fiend.”

“I’m so hurt. But hey, mister, if you know how precious your family is, why did you snatch and sell off everyone else’s families? Is your family a family while everyone else’s are just livestock?”

“A sin worthy of death... please...!”

“Eh, I’ll let you live. Oh, Pohee, do you know that story? The blind man and the cripple, helping each other along? The cripple carries the blind man and the blind man guides the way — no, wait, it was the other way around. Anyway.”

“No idea! First I’ve heard of it!”

“Point is, they make up for each other’s weaknesses. With family love this strong, I figure leaving each of you one arm or one leg should be enough for you to get by just fine.”

And so, the whole family was left sprawled on the floor, joints smashed.

They each got to keep one limb — a left arm or left leg. Ten people: four left arms (one was left-handed) and five left legs.

Since Qing didn’t touch them after that and stood to leave, the crippled family actually showed a flicker of relief through the pain.

That lasted right up until she slid open the storeroom doors and revealed the mass of product/propulsion/labor/food packed inside.

“There you go. Have a great time, everyone.”

Qing waved, and Pohee waved too.

One by one, the “goods” — crammed so tight they couldn’t even lie down — stepped barefoot into the main hall.

As Qing left through the front gate, she rehung the guild’s signboard.

The Blue Dragon Trading Guild plaque, now dripping blood, swung loose from a corner.

****

Unlike the openly smuggling Blue Dragon Trading Guild, the Oga Shipbuilding Guild was a model of rigorous lawfulness.

National law strictly forbade illegal shipbuilding — constructing a vessel without government permission — and punished it with death.

Thus, the Oga Shipbuilding Guild proudly took the lead in stamping out the vile criminals who dared to secretly assemble ships.

Of course, the law also stated that commoners could never kill commoners.

So, ever the paragons of legality, the Oga Guild didn’t kill their victims — they just beat them bloody, paraded their battered forms through the streets for all to see, then handed them over to smugglers in the Gwangju Zen Hall in exchange for a modest “service fee.”

Certainly not selling them — the law forbade slave trading, after all. It was just a small token of appreciation for protecting the law.

How could the Inspectorate not adore such a model workshop?

So when Qing tore down the sign and stepped inside, she was greeted by constables who had already planted their feet and leveled their gleaming three-pronged spears at her.

“Stop! The law is strict — how dare you cause a disturbance in broad daylight?!”

Qing halted, eyeing the high-ranking official’s face and muttering just loud enough to carry.

“What to do... I’d have to kill them all to keep this quiet. Leave even one alive and it’ll be a nuisance.”

“Hmm. Should I just block the gate for you?”

“Nah. Do they even know our faces? Or our names? If a couple slip away, so what? We can just quit this exorcist gig and move on.”

“Wow, you always think ahead, Pohee.”

The blunt threat drained a little color from the official’s face.

Not that Qing seemed to notice — she stepped forward as if her earlier words had been idle thoughts no one could possibly have overheard.

“You there — who are you to block this exorcist’s way?”

One hanger-on puffed up with self-importance and shouted:

“This is the Deputy Commissioner of the Inspectorate for Gwangju! Kneel at once and show proper respect!”

“Ah, Deputy Commissioner. And do you not know who I am? I’m the Earthwork Immortal Lady. This house is crawling with evil spirits, and I’ve come to exorcise them. So how is it that the living are walking into a house of the dead?”

The Deputy Commissioner forced his voice to sound stern.

“Ahem. The Master once said, avoid spirits and supernatural beings. Still your wicked tongue and leave at once.”

“My, my — a man who can’t tell heaven from earth. The master of this house has angered a great evil spirit. Keep siding with him and the misfortune will reach you too.”

The great evil spirit clicked her tongue. Then:

“It’s a nasty curse — people dying horribly in the night. Let’s see, I’ll divine it from your name. My fortune-telling fees are no small thing, so you’d better be grateful. What’s your name, where do you live? And do you perhaps have a particularly precious child? The kind you’d regret losing so much you’d sicken over it for the rest of your life?”

What the official heard was:

Where do you live?

Should I kill you, or your precious child?

And to be fair, that was exactly what Qing had said.

“I came here to drive out an evil spirit, but since you blocked me, don’t be surprised if your whole household dies off soon. I warned you. Don’t regret it later — maybe offer prayers at Confucius’ grave and hope he drives it off.”

She turned away.

“Pohee, you know where the Deputy Commissioner lives?”

“Nope.”

“Eh, whatever. We can grab any Gwangju local and ask. I’ll just write up a prayer for a nice big funeral at his house.”

That did it — the Deputy Commissioner caught her arm.

“Ahem... so, you came to drive out an evil spirit?”

“Oh? Feeling a bit of a chill now, Deputy Commissioner?”

Qing smirked over her shoulder.

“Ghosts don’t care about officialdom or Murim. Unlike the polite fiction between the two, they’ll bring disaster if they feel like it. You understand me, Deputy Commissioner?”

You know what non-interference means? Stop meddling and get lost.

“The Master did say to avoid the supernatural, but he also said to keep the people from suffering harm. I know little of shamanic matters, but if your work will bring comfort to the common folk, then it’s a good thing. Handle it as you see fit.”

I get it. I’ll back off. Please don’t drag me into this.

“Good. I’ll try to keep the misfortune from touching you. You’re welcome.”

I’ll let you off once. Stay out of my way.

“Ahem... thank you.”

Thanks.

“Let’s go!”

With a look of pure distaste, the Deputy Commissioner waved his men back and left.

Some might say it was disgraceful to flee like that, but every seasoned official knew the same truth: you don’t deal with lunatics — male or female.

Fear of the authorities only worked if you at least pretended to have it.

If it came down to “you die, I die,” it was always the officials who bled.

“Non-interference” was just an excuse to protect themselves.

“Sir! You can’t just leave like this! Sir!”

Turns out the hanger-on wasn’t actually Inspectorate staff.

He clung to the Deputy Commissioner’s sleeve, but at a sharp “Let go!” he was — well, not thrown to the ground; he’d had some martial training, after all, and wouldn’t be tossed by a bookish bureaucrat’s shove.

So it was a back-and-forth of “Let go!” “No!” “You can’t!” “You’ve already accepted the gift, this is unacceptable...”

Finally, the Deputy Commissioner, desperate to get away from this cursed situation, barked:

“You lawless fool! Who are you accusing?! What, are you trying to join the rebel faction before the evil spirit gets you?!”

That did the trick — the hanger-on finally dropped away. The constables withdrew, leaving only the empty hall.

The hanger-on slumped, then slowly turned to Qing with a sly grin.

“Heh-heh... Divine Lady. I’ve long admired you for your miraculous powers. If there’s anything you’d like to ask me...”

So much for lawful devotion.

This one specialized in sinking commoners’ ships by punching holes in them at night.

If a vessel came in for repairs, they’d drag it out forever before seizing it outright.

When that got too obvious, they bribed officials to “inspect” ships, confiscating them permanently.

Shipbuilders, or thieves with shipwright tools? Masters of audacity, either way.

Qing shook her head.

“Pohee. Close the gate and bolt it.”

And so, the doors of the Oga Shipbuilding Guild slammed shut.

****

Dockhouse, Blue-Crest.

A dockhouse was where the captain and crew of a large ship lived.

And according to an anonymous whistleblower — anonymous because Qing had killed him before asking his name, though he’d coughed up the tip first — the Blue-Crest was a pirate ship.

Mountain bandits were all trash — kill them all.

Pirates were all trash — kill them all.

These pirates hadn’t built themselves a manor, just converted an inn.

The rooms upstairs were theirs; the ground floor was... ugh. The smell.

Qing shoved open the door and instantly grimaced.

Opium smoke, marijuana smoke, and tobacco smoke swirled into a choking fog.

On top of that, the sour reek of cheap liquor and the stale stench of unwashed men made even Qing’s iron stomach twitch with nausea.

The room fell silent at the sudden arrival of a veiled woman.

One pirate opened his mouth — and Qing beat him to it, hefting her hammerhead.

“Alright, eyes up here. Sparkle-sparrrkle. I’ll just do my business and be on my way. Eyes down, bastards.”

Faced with the glitter of gathered qi, the pirates lowered their gazes.

“Sparkle-sparkle.”

Pohee chimed in cutely from behind.

Qing chuckled — here she was, face and figure radiating enough seduction to drown a city, yet still playing cute.

Not that the pirates found it cute.

When a bare-handed woman whose qi blazed like that was in your face, you didn’t think “cute” — you thought “minimum peak master.”

Qing still didn’t know Pohee was actually emanating qi when she did that.

Her veil swept over the room as she scanned it.

The slower-witted pirates thought someone had just pissed off the wrong person, and the smart move was to sit very, very still.

She wasn’t here to find anyone specific, though.

Once she spotted her real target, Qing drifted across the smoky room, skirts whispering.

The hammer rose — whoosh! — then CRACK!

A pillar exploded into splinters.

She moved again. Whoosh! CRACK!

Near the entrance now, she smashed the last pillar she needed, resting the hammer on her shoulder.

“Done. Let’s go.”

“What? Already? Not killing them?”

“Ugh, smells too bad to stay. Let’s go.”

Qing looped her arm through Pohee’s; Pohee, delighted no matter the reason, giggled and held tight.

As they stepped outside, the wood groaned behind them, twisting in protest like it resented being left behind.

A sharp creak, the grain splitting.

The building began to shudder as if in an earthquake — even though the ground stayed still.

Qing was a carpenter. A glance at the interior told her exactly which beams carried the load — and which pillars, once destroyed, would bring the whole place down.

“Uh-oh—!”

The pirates finally caught on and bolted, but the first out the door went sailing back in midair, knocking the rest into a heap.

From the pile, they looked up at the ceiling as it twisted, dust raining down—

And then — KWA-RROOOM!

The crash thundered like multiple bolts of lightning striking at once.