Chapter 431: Journey to Taewon (2)

Lee Chosu had, from a young age, inspired fear in everyone with a talent so extraordinary it defied common sense.

And so, people spoke of him with reverence, calling him Master Snitch, Master Snitch Lee Chosu.

When Lee Chosu reported someone, his expression was one of pure, gut-wrenching grievance—as though his bowels had burst and his liver torn in two. His voice carried the tragic bitterness of the most wronged man in the world, a voice that seemed to cry his sorrow to the heavens themselves.

And so, when one heard Lee Chosu’s petition, they would find themselves thinking without realizing, Ah, this fellow truly is wronged. That is the expression and voice of a man who speaks only the truth. How could such a thing happen in this world?

It was a persuasive power that made the listener unconsciously share in his grief.

Before they knew it, the past was twisted so that in the whole world, only Lee Chosu was innocent and blameless, while everyone else was a perpetrator.

One would think, How could this cruel world produce someone like Lee Chosu only to treat him so unjustly? This reality must not be allowed to exist. I too must help this poor soul.

It was, one might say, a terrifying talent—one forbidden to man—that could twist the cause-and-effect of past events by sheer force of will.

And now, this talent was being exercised upon none other than the Supreme Lord of the Demonic Way, the great standard-bearer of the righteous disciples of the Demonic Path, the lamp and guide who lit the way forward—Lord of the Demonic Union, Heaven-Suppressing Army Bu Anpyeong.

“Lord! I’m... so wronged, so wronged—huuhk—can’t... breathe... I’m sorry—guhhk—just thinking about that woman—! I’m so wronged I can’t even breathe—oheuk!”

At this, the beautiful young man in the highest seat, fine-featured and round-faced, drew his brows together sharply.

“What’s this? Why’s a perfectly healthy man carrying on like that?”

“Lord, severe mental shock can cause symptoms like shortness of breath,”

came the interjection from the man at his side—Iljwa Cheonha Sunung, master of Nanggogak (Pavilion of the Gentle Heights) of the Demonic Union and its Chief Strategist.

“Tsk, tsk. A man so weak-hearted... That’s all because you’ve got no grit. No grit at all! At a time when you should be overcoming everything with mental strength, you talk about mental shock? Mental sh—guhhk? What’s wrong with the younger generation? No grit! Why, me, even when my bones were stiff and my meridians blocked, I pushed through with grit alone! Talent? Elixirs? Divine arts? All useless! All you need is grit—”

“Lord, perhaps you might first hear him out?”

“Hmm, have I been rambling like some old nag?”

“Yes. You have.”

“I only say these things for your own good! Even if it’s unpleasant to hear, it’s gold-worth advice that becomes flesh and bone! I’ve lived long enough to reach a high realm, and when I see youngsters floundering down below, my heart aches.”

“You’re doing it again. For now, let’s just keep listening.”

“...Very well. So, who is this woman?”

“The Heavenly Flower Sword! That woman!”

And thus, Lee Chosu poured out his petition.

The Heavenly Flower Sword had arrived in Gwangju, as vicious and cruel as the Celestial Killing Star itself. (True)

At first, she concealed her true colors, pretending to be some useless shamaness, winning favor while hiding her vicious nature. (True)

Then, she finally revealed her savage nature (True)—storming into the Gwangju Zen Hall and committing a massacre. (True)

“She’s so cruel, she even collapsed an entire building, then stood there smashing the skulls of the escaping monks one by one like whack-a-mole! How could such a vicious woman exist!?”

Eventually, she seemed to tire even of pretending to be a shamaness.

While Elder Bang the strategist and the Lord of the hall (false) were sharing drinks in earnest concern—pondering how to further develop Gwangju and contribute to the Demonic Union and the dominion of the Demonic Path—she suddenly ambushed them and killed them on the spot.

“She dared—dared—to harm the Lord...! Khhuk! Even now, just thinking of her—euuhhk, ughh...”

Lee Chosu’s face flushed red, and at last, hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

At this point, even if it was slander, it had reached a level of artistry—beyond human.

And the Supreme Lord of the Demonic Path replied:

“Why’s a grown man crying? Listen well. A man should only cry three times in life: when he’s born, when his parents die, and when he loses his sect.”

“Lord.”

“Ah—am I doing it again?”

“No, that’s not it. Losing one’s Lord is like losing one’s parents, so isn’t it right to cry?”

“...Ah. True. In any case, if what you say is true, we can’t just let such a woman be. If some brat from the Orthodox side goes around shouting about slaying villains and acting heroic, that’s one thing—but to openly smear the dignity of the men of the Demonic Path? She can’t be left alive.”

It seemed that even the great Supreme Lord could not entirely resist Lee Chosu’s history-rewriting powers.

But—

“And she dared harm a strategist of the Demonic Union? When smart men are already so rare?”

“Mm... Lord? Strategist Bang is still just an assistant strategist—and he woke up perfectly fine this morning.”

“Mm? What? This man said he was killed—stabbed in the neck by the Heavenly Flower Sword?”

“Strategist Bang’s been living in Pavilion of the Gentle Heights for nearly two months now, eating and sleeping there over the Martial Arts Tournament matter. I said woke up, not came in to work.”

“Isn’t there another Strategist Bang?”

“There’s only the one. And the strategist dispatched to Gwangju is Strategist Seong. But... a crate of elixirs? Lord, did you perhaps buy them with your own funds?”

“I’ve never done such a thing. Was it not you who sent them, Chief Strategist?”

“I’ve never done it either. And who sends elixirs by the crate?”

“Then where’s Strategist Seong?”

“In Gwangju, I’d imagine.”

Only then did both men turn their eyes toward Lee Chosu.

“You. What are you playing at?”

“Lord?”

“Lock this bastard up for now.”

“Lord!? There’s some mistake! I’m wronged—so wronged! I told you nothing but the truth, Lord! Lord—!”

Lee Chosu was dragged out by Demonic Union guards.

“Still, we can’t just leave this Heavenly Flower Sword be, can we?”

“No matter the details, if word gets out that she single-handedly crushed three orthodox factions in Gwangju, the whole world will look down on us.”

“Exactly. Once people look down on you, every stray cur and rat will come crawling out. I’m already sick of these upstarts strutting about in the name of ‘heroic deeds’—if we let this slide, there’ll be chaos.”

“Then, what will you do?”

“We don’t know where the dispatched strategist is, the one we didn’t send is still in Pavilion of the Gentle Heights, and a crate of mysterious elixirs arrived. We’ll have to look into it anyway.”

“I’ll send an investigation team.”

“Not send—we’ll go ourselves. I’ve got a bad feeling. I want to see this Heavenly Flower Sword with my own eyes.”

****

But the Heavenly Flower Sword was no longer in Gwangju.

She had left at the end of the second lunar month, and by the time she arrived in Jagwi-hyeon (Noble Purple County)—where the Seol Family Trading Company was located—it was already early April.

Yet while spring deepened, the air grew chill.

The sheer size of the Central Plains meant that heading north brought the cold, inland climate.

And so, a massive six-horse carriage rolled through Noble Purple County.

Black, unadorned, its ominous exterior a stark contrast to its luxurious interior—radiating intimidation. Perhaps this was why they had not met so much as a single bandit on the way; the carriage seemed to shout, Touch me and you die.

Yet oddly, in Noble Purple County, people grinned or even beamed at the sight of it.

The Seol Company’s gates stood wide open before the carriage was even in sight, and when Qing stepped down, there—plain as day—was a dearly missed face.

Qing leapt from the carriage, soaring through the air to cling to Choi Riong’s torso like a cicada.

“Grandpa!”

“Why, you—? A grown woman carrying on like this in front of strangers? Shameful!”

But Choi Riong’s words had no weight—his beaming grin betrayed him, making it obvious to anyone that the old man was far happier than he let on.

Still holding Qing in his arms, Choi Riong headed straight for the dining hall.

He didn’t even ask if she was hungry—it was as natural as breathing.

“What about that Seol brat? Still in Chang’an?”

“Don’t even start. Lately, he’s been talking like he just wants to die of old age quietly. Ever since that young master tried to hang himself over the marriage proposal, the pressure’s been so fierce he can barely hold on.”

“Ooh. That Seol brat. Irresistible beauty.”

“He’s barely managing thanks to the influence of Shaanxi’s First Trading Company, but if the authorities start pressing in earnest, there’s nothing he can do.”

“Huh? Shaanxi’s First Trading Company?”

After Qing’s whirlwind through Chang’an, the immorality of merchants had become a hot topic.

Before, people had simply assumed merchants were that way—soulless scum who’d sold themselves for gold and silver, naturally prone to cruelty.

But Qing’s enlightenment had swept Chang’an.

Merchants, after {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} growing fat on the customers’ favor, turned around and treated those same customers like servants or slaves.

Why just accept it?

If one refused to buy from such people, cut off trade, and told others of their wickedness so that no one bought their goods, would they not collapse?

It was the true teaching of the Heavenly Flower Immortal Lady—great heroine of the martial world, most beautiful woman in the Central Plains, and visionary who proposed a new moral code for commerce.

And there was one trading company whose value shone brighter the more this teaching spread—

The Taecheong Trading Company!

Most of its members practiced, so to speak, self-serving benevolence—doing good deeds for personal reasons. Even setting aside their large projects—relief efforts (with a dash of their religious creed) and free schools (also with their creed)—they constantly accumulated small acts: carrying loads for elderly passers-by, guiding lost children, cleaning the streets. These little deeds formed a great current.

If you were from Chang’an, you bought from Taecheong Trading!

If you were from Xi’an, you bought from Taecheong Trading!

If you were from Shaanxi Province, you bought from Taecheong Trading!

What’s this? You just came out of a Jangnyeong Trading shop? Don’t you know Jangnyeong is run by the son of Jangheung Trading? How could you buy from such scum? You shameless wretch!

What? Just because it’s a few coins cheaper, you buy from such filth? Don’t you know Taecheong’s profits fund relief work, our children’s schools, and subsidies for the half-price clinics?

A form of nationalist consumerism, the sort you’d only expect from Qing’s homeland, had leapt across centuries to appear in the Central Plains.

And that wasn’t all—

Listen, saving a little money isn’t everything. Taecheong products are well-made, high-quality, with strictly managed ingredients and grain. Even if a problem arises, they take full responsibility. That’s worth far more than a few coins saved!

Of course, Taecheong’s goal wasn’t profit.

But from the customers’ perspective, it was almost unbelievable—something a foreigner would dismiss as ridiculous nonsense.

Taecheong Trading was growing at the speed of light.

And thus—Shaanxi’s First Trading Company: Taecheong Trading.