Chapter 414: When Mom Follows the Shamans to the Hills (10)

Within barely a few days, two of the so-called Three Great Demonic Factions of Gwangju had collapsed.

The first to go, the Golden Pavilion, was shocking, yes—but in the end, it could be explained with a perfectly reasonable, logical, and empirical cause.

A curse.

The curse of the Jin Family Manor’s people, unjustly slaughtered.

The Golden Pavilion was wiped out overnight.

There were no witnesses—only a few vague accounts of screams heard in the middle of the night.

And so the only logical conclusion was that no human had done it.

It had to be the work of ghosts—one great ghost, in fact.

And so the people of Gwangju felt not shock, but something closer to joy and satisfaction.

Serves the bastards right!

So there really is divine punishment!

Good riddance! My only regret for the rest of my life is that I didn’t see them die with my own eyes!

But the shock over the fall of Gwangju Zen Hall was of a different kind.

It was as if the God of Might Himself had descended in wrath, riding the body of a shamaness—storming in alone, tearing down their nameplate, soaking it in blood, and walking out, showing the whole world the final fate of villains.

Justice had been served for an entire day.

The people of Gwangju saw it with their own eyes; some, still burning with old grudges, joined in the looting; others took the chance to cut down their crawling enemies themselves. Many lent a hand.

By afternoon, commoners who bore grudges against Gwangju Zen Hall were openly overjoyed to see the Earthwork Immortal Lady, volunteering to guide her.

They argued, grabbing each other by the collar, over who got to lead her to their own enemies first, shouting that those bastards had to be crushed before they could escape.

So, how do you think public sentiment in Gwangju was?

“Hey, the Earthwork Immortal Lady—”

“What, she’s your friend? Show some respect! Call her the Divine Lady!”

Regardless, by the time Qing finished her grueling but satisfying day’s work and collapsed onto her bed, it was already dawn.

She had barely closed her eyes and taken a few breaths when—rap rap rap—someone knocking at her door, calling her name, yanked her back from sleep.

“Milady, someone’s here at the crack of dawn...”

Well—not dawn exactly. More like just before noon.

Qing had only managed two breaths before falling straight into a snore.

“Who is it?”

A reply came at once.

“Uh—no, I mean, Divine Lady? It’s Jin Seol.”

****

The post-generation disciples were prone to causing trouble.

Why? Because they were young.

As members of the Righteous Factions of the martial world, you shall pursue virtue, protect the weak, and never stay silent in the face of injustice.

It was a lesson drilled into the ears of every successor to the Righteous Factions.

They were also children raised on the tales of their sects’ venerable seniors and their heroic exploits.

Yet even so, things rarely escalated into major incidents—because the trouble caused by a post-generation disciple rarely exceeded the level of... a post-generation disciple.

In a prestigious clan, that meant they were first-rate by their generation’s standards; the truly gifted (or the promising types who popped miracle pills like rice) might reach the early Peak Realm.

But in today’s martial world, Peak Realm masters were—slight exaggeration—common as dirt.

Martial arts had been a codified discipline for so long that even the slowest dullard, given time and steady training, could eventually reach Peak Realm.

And the martial world had been peaceful for many years.

With so many long-lived masters, even a small town tended to have at least one transcendent expert settled there.

Meaning—no matter how recklessly a post-generation disciple acted, there were always enough people around to stop them.

In the process, these youngsters began to get a real sense of what the martial world was.

The chain of grudges, the endless cycle of cutting and being cut, over and over, without end.

They didn’t fully understand it, of course—but they could at least vaguely sense its outline.

They also came to realize that their own martial ability was not as great as they thought.

And when they saw how the line of responsibility for their actions could stretch all the way up to their sect’s elders, they began to understand themselves not just as individuals, but as members of a greater whole.

This was how the young of the Righteous Factions grew into adults.

And so Jin Jakang reflected deeply.

Seo Cheong—she was still just a post-generation disciple, after all.

When he thought about it, she had just turned twenty-one—and barely a month and a half ago at that.

Her depth of understanding, her ability to comfort others and read hearts, had made him forget her age entirely.

The problem was her ability.

When a post-generation disciple of the Righteous Factions caused trouble, it was like a child swinging a wooden sword.

At most, they might cut down a few low-level thugs from the Demonic Factions—something even those thugs could shrug off as bad luck.

The more dangerous types, if touched by such a disciple, usually just beat them soundly and send them back, thanks to the Righteous Factions’ current dominance.

Of course, the first journey into the martial world was still a time when many young hot-blooded ones lost their lives.

But Qing did not wield a wooden sword.

She held a real sword—and not just any sword, but a masterwork with an edge like frost. And the result was... well, they could see it now.

“Hm.”

Jin Jakang chose his words carefully.

He had called her in and seated her, but the opening was hard to find.

So—was Qing wrong?

No.

He began from there.

“First, I need to thank you—and also apologize. This was something the Jin Family should have handled, but we pushed it onto the Heavenly Flower Sword instead.”

“It’s fine. I know the Jin Family... has been going through a lot...”

As soon as she said it, Qing wondered if that was something she should have said aloud, and trailed off.

Jin Jakang gave a bitter smile.

How do you think it feels, as head of the house, to hear from a guest that your family’s situation is ‘difficult’?

“No. If the Heavenly Flower Sword could do it, then I could have done it. But... perhaps I could not have, in truth. I have a family to protect. You could say I left them alone for the sake of self-preservation.”

“No, that’s only natural.”

“Mhm.”

As he searched for the right words, he realized he had been handed a rather unpleasant role.

In truth, what Qing had done deserved praise—he could have lauded her to the skies for the sheer relief it brought. But he couldn’t.

Qing called herself “beyond Transcendent Peak,” but in truth, beyond the Peak Realm was simply the Flame Realm.

If he himself had been Flame Realm, perhaps his approach would have been different from Qing’s merciless hand—but would he have stood by without dismantling Gwangju Zen Hall? Hardly.

If Jin Jakang had acted, the Demonic Alliance would not have stood idly by.

A master of comparable strength would have sworn vengeance and challenged him openly. And for the sake of face, they would have sent someone they were certain could defeat him.

They might issue a life-or-death duel and then tell him to either vanish into some rural backwater or die fighting.

As a member of one of the Ten Great Clans, such a challenge could not be avoided. And even if he survived, would the clan be left unscathed?

Truth was, he had long been aware of Gwangju Zen Hall’s atrocities.

It wasn’t that he intended to let them keep on—once the Jin Family’s power had recovered, he had planned to crush those mere boatmen until they stopped their predations.

But what about the common folk suffering in the meantime?

And so now his role was to be the elder telling the younger that yes, sometimes you had to be cowardly, that the world could be filthy and unfair, and you had to live with that.

“Heavenly Flower Sword is not just one person. You are the representative of the Righteous Faction’s young generation, the direct disciple of... no, of Grandmother herself, carrying out her will, and also a disciple of the Divine Lady’s Sect. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes.”

“Even so, listen to it once more. Every action you take can, as a member of your groups, become their will and their responsibility.”

“Yes.”

Qing’s eyebrows drooped.

She was not so young that she would protest ‘No, that’s not fair.’

Because it was fair.

An individual within a group—no matter how few in number—could represent the group as a whole.

The excuse of ‘I’m just one person’ was always weaker than the responsibility of the group to rein in its own.

Her expression was honest.

Seeing that, Jin Jakang smiled gently.

If she already understood responsibility, there was no need to lecture further.

“Still—it’s fortunate this was done not by the Heavenly Flower Sword, but by the Earthwork Immortal Lady in the state of divine possession by the God of Might.”

“...What?”

“Have the Earthwork Immortal Lady leave soon. Let it be said she took a carriage from Hwado and vanished. Nothing to do with the Heavenly Flower Sword.”

In other words—wear the Earthwork Immortal Lady’s garb to the northern city of Hwado, buy a carriage, send it off anywhere, and then return in secret.

The Heavenly Flower Sword, staying at the Jin estate, had been doing nothing—just resting as a guest.

Qing asked with an incredulous look,

“Uh... can we really get away with that?”

“How should anyone know where a phantom-like Earthwork Immortal Lady has gone?”

“But what if they come after the Jin Family? Those Demonic Alliance types, I mean.”

“If they have evidence, we’ll accept it.”

In other words—deny everything.

Exactly the way her own master had once said: if you’re caught using demonic arts, just insist they aren’t demonic arts.

...Was this how the elders of the Righteous Factions operated?

“Again—the Heavenly Flower Sword only did what needed to be done. Yes, it was a bit extreme, but those villains were ones the Jin Family could not suppress, whose evil had driven public resentment to the heavens. In fact, we should be thanking you.”

And then the head of the Jin Family bowed deeply.

Not something a senior should be showing to a much younger junior.

It was the second time she’d received such deep gratitude.

But as Qing left the audience hall, her face was far from satisfied—it was sour.

It wasn’t the kind of scolding she had expected.

She hadn’t wanted to hear that recklessly starting something could cause trouble for those around her, that striking down evil was good but she needed to remember to be cautious, even cowardly, sometimes.

She had expected talk about the value of life.

About saving rather than killing, turning hearts instead of silencing mouths.

Or at least that killing would, in the end, harm her, so she should restrain herself.

Instead, all she heard was ‘Thank you for killing them for me.’

So the killing itself was fine.

But... was that right?

Even the Gwangju Zen Hall lot—

Why was it that those who truly deserved to die didn’t have some tragic backstory, some melodramatic angle, some inner conflict?

They died—and everyone was glad, shouting ‘Long live the destruction of Gwangju Zen Hall!’

Something about it felt... wrong.

Why did it leave such a sour taste?

If a dantian could make noise, Qing’s right now would be letting out a shrill, furious scream.

The righteous energies of Daoists and Buddhists within her were sweating profusely, racing through her meridians.

At the lead was the Grand Purity True Qi, wearing a monk’s kasaya; behind it, the Scarlet Immortal Lady True Qi in red immortal robes, and the Reverse Tendon Washing Marrow Qi in a scandalously open-chested Shaolin robe; last came the Dragon-Elephant Prajñā True Qi, riding a palanquin borne by dragons and elephants.

The Daoist true qis climbed the Governor Vessel to the Baihui at the crown of her head—where the upper dantian floor was crammed full of sinister energy like writhing instruments spewing malice.

The Daoist divine arts stomped it flat, trying to erase it—but the foul energy just kept surging back.

What the hell was wrong with this girl? She’d been fine for days—why was she suddenly throwing a fit?

True qi could not be allowed to stagnate—it had to flow.

So, after doing their work at the top, they could only descend again through the dantian gates.

And there, the demonic qis would cackle smugly.

Normally, the Joyous True Qi would have glared and straightened things out—but these days, it was too busy to even show its face.

And in one corner, stuck like mold, the Shattering Heaven Demonic Qi let out its usual chuckle.

Then—BANG!—the Joyous True Qi burst through the dantian gate, hair flying, and charged straight at the wall.

Flying side-kick!

Its heel slammed into the Shattering Heaven Demonic Qi, hunched in the corner.

Then it kicked the gate open again and shot back toward the Baihui.

Busy, busy—no time to waste, converting killing intent into yin energy.

The Daoist and Buddhist true qis let out a collective sigh of relief, then rushed off again to sweep away the sinister energy.

The demonic qis, momentarily startled by Joyous True Qi’s appearance, now turned their attention to the toppled Shattering Heaven Demonic Qi.

It lay on the floor, clutching its side and trembling, before dragging itself back to the wall, crouching—and chuckling, wheezing...

And the Moon Maiden True Qi just stood there, watching it.

Expressionless.