Chapter 440: Every Treasure Has a Sad Legend (1)

Last sixth month.

In Taehwa County of Jiangxi Province, a Martial World Tournament was held where, by the Demonic Union’s own estimate, fifty million demonic men gathered to unite their hearts as one.

There, they chose through martial duels the honored juniors of the Ten Dragons of the Demonic Union who would one day lead the alliance.

They also held inauguration ceremonies for new plaques and branch outposts of the southeastern heretical sects that had lately grown in power.

And they stood together to denounce the orthodox Martial World, declaring that martial men honor only the martial, while politics—such as mutual consultation—only obscure the truth that men with swords are, in essence, armed bandits trying to deceive the people of the world.

Of course, unlike the orthodox tournaments, almost no spectators outside of those involved attended this event.

The orthodox Martial World tournaments overflowed with tourists from across the Central Plains—since ordinary folk who came to watch risked no harm.

But to volunteer to spectate in a city crammed with every villain in the world?

That would be enough to earn the label of lunatic.

It was said that during the entire Demonic Union tournament, parents with daughters in Taehwa County treated the days as a state of emergency, wrapping them up and hiding them indoors, forbidding them from stepping outside at all.

And so this festival of the demonic men carried its fervor into the “Declaration to the Martial World” ceremony, where each stood and proclaimed what they wished, raising the spirit of the gathering.

And at that “Declaration to the Martial World,” the one who became the talk of all was none other than Wang Daeyang, third son of the Green Forest Chief.

His entrance was extraordinary: he appeared clad in a yellow mourning robe, a long pole strapped to his back with a massive flag fluttering above.

Upon that flag were written four characters.

“Man who sells his body for his father’s funeral.”

This phrase came from long ago, precisely from the Han dynasty, from the story of a famous filial son named Dongying.

Though Dongying was greatly filial, he seemed to have no ability, and his household never escaped poverty.

When his father passed away, Dongying sold himself as a slave to a wealthy house to obtain the funds for the funeral.

No doubt his father, looking down from heaven, wept blood at the sight of his son selling his body for the sake of the funeral.

But a man clever enough to think such a thing would not have been so destitute as to have to sell himself for burial expenses.

In any case, Dongying was stupid and incompetent but possessed only a deep filial heart, and thus he carried out the funeral.

It is said that the Jade Emperor’s daughter, moved by his virtue, eventually freed him from slavery, but that simply means a fool that hopeless could only be saved if the Jade Emperor’s own daughter stepped in.

Regardless, “man who sells his body for his father’s funeral” became a term for the ultimate act of filial devotion—selling oneself to conduct a parent’s funeral.

Of course, such filial piety, with aged parents—or even in death, with three years of mourning—was also the cultural instrument of East Asian governance, a proven tool to keep commoners bound as commoners.

But this was the Martial World Tournament of demonic men.

What use was filial piety in a gathering of degenerates and parricides?

“Brothers! I must confess here something bitter and shameful! The Green Forest has been defeated! Defeated by that damned Heavenly Flower Sword, by the tricks of that wicked, deceitful woman!”

Astoundingly, not a word of it was false.

Was it bitter and shameful? Yes.

Had the Green Forest been defeated? Yes.

Was Heavenly Flower Sword wicked and deceitful? Yes.

At that shocking truth, the demonic men gasped.

What?

That at the mere age of twenty, that wench had slain Wang Cheolgun, and on top of that cut down the famed Green Forest expert Do Usam, then burned the stronghold?

How could that make sense?

Making such things “make sense” was precisely the work of the Demonic Union’s strategists.

And so they spun a story outrageous enough to inflame everyone.

One day, the eldest brother introduced as his beloved a woman of the orthodox—Heavenly Flower Sword.

Yet unlike her appearance of pure devotion to the eldest brother, her eyes roamed lustfully over the second brother and Do Usam.

The wicked woman sowed discord between brothers, seduced Do Usam, drew him into her skirts to toy with him, poisoned the well, and brought calamity.

She cruelly butchered their sister, and the sight felled the Chief of the Green Forest himself.

The eldest had only introduced her to the second out of trust, and from there they had merely spent joyful times together, but where had it all gone wrong? Wang Daeyang could not escape the sense of looming dread...

And at the moment the family was utterly destroyed at the hands of that vile woman, Wang Daeyang, with tears of blood, cried out in grief.

—Why! Why would you do such a thing!

But Heavenly Flower Sword only laughed coldly.

—Because. Doesn’t it sound wonderful? “The heroine who crushed the Green Forest.” You rabble of the heretical path are nothing more than my stepping stones to fame.

—For such, such a reason!

Wang Daeyang raised his sword for vengeance.

—Young Master! Young Master must live on!

—You must reveal this truth, destroy that vile witch, and avenge us! Avenge us! Please!

—No! Let go! Let me go!

His men hurled themselves into certain death against Heavenly Flower Sword, while Wang Daeyang was seized and dragged away, his desperate screams cut to black.

“What fiend of a woman could do such a thing!”

Such was the reaction of most.

A few whispered, “But... is she really that beautiful?” Yet the Demonic Union’s strategists had at least made the Green Forest’s fall a tale that sounded plausible.

Otherwise, what? That some upstart who had just reached Absolute-tier that year stormed in head-on, slew two Flower Realm experts, cut down countless bandits, and boldly set fire to the stronghold?

“And so, I, Wang so-and-so, humbly beg all you heroes of the demonic path! If you would but slay Heavenly Flower Sword, I will sell my body—use me as slave, adopt me as son, or take me as son-in-law—I will follow for life!”

At that moment—

The Lord of the Demonic Union, seated high above on the dais, began to clap!

Third among the Ten Great Masters of the World, first in his own mind, and truly the number one among the demonic path—his applause carried immense inner force.

Clap! Clap!

What, he was using Six-Harmonies Transmission just to clap?

Six-Harmonies Transmission was the ultimate technique of transmitting sound, making it seem whispered directly in the ear from all six directions—front, back, left, right, above, below.

And so the applause struck every ear in the plaza, indistinguishable in direction, whispered all around with startling clarity.

A divine display indeed!

And then his voice, not loud yet perfectly clear, resounded in all.

“I cannot but marvel at your filial devotion. Yet, having failed to slay your enemy, you cannot yet be called a filial son.”

Bu Anpyeong, Lord of the Demonic Union, paused before continuing.

“If you were to destroy your enemy and then bury your father, would not heaven itself be moved, as in the story of Dongying? Then I too, in the name of Bu Anpyeong, shall aid with all my power in the Green Forest’s restoration! This I promise upon my name!”

The demonic men were shaken.

If they slew Heavenly Flower Sword, they could enslave Wang Daeyang.

If they slew Heavenly Flower Sword, the number one of the demonic path would aid in rebuilding the Green Forest.

And the property of a slave is the property of his master.

Meaning—they would become masters of the Green Forest!

As the notion burst over them, the heads of the demonic men filled with exclamation points.

The final push to move those heretical curs who would not stir for mere sob stories!

And with the banner of filial piety held high!

At once, the demonic fighters grew solemn, their eyes gleaming with vile calculation.

Bu Anpyeong looked down from the high dais at the crowd, then muttered quietly.

“Say, Chief Strategist. Why has the crowd thinned so much? Have they already gone home after the Dragon Tournament? Did you not send a notice that they were to stay until the end?”

Indeed, when the tournament began, the plaza had been jam-packed, shoulder to shoulder.

But now the spacing was wide, and at the far end of the square there were simply no people—obviously many were missing.

“I sent word, but perhaps some returned while leaving a few behind. After all, leaving their districts unattended for long would trouble them.”

“Tch. No unity. No unity at all. The orthodox always band together for anything, but we—we only guard our own rice bowls first.”

Bu Anpyeong grumbled.

But Sunung’s words, the Chief Strategist, had truth.

Unlike the orthodox, who could leave in peace, the demonic grew uneasy the longer they abandoned their turf.

And so, a few days later, in early seventh month, with the closing ceremony, the Demonic Union tournament ended.

For reference, the final rite, proposed by the Supreme Lord Bu Anpyeong himself and wept over in moving gratitude by every officer, was this:

Each would bite into a white peach, vowing to give their lives for the demonic world!

What is a peach?

Since the Peach Garden Oath, it has been the very symbol of loyalty—majestic loyalty in the Central Plains.

This was to bind the demonic men as brothers, united in cause.

And a white peach—Baekdo!

It was also the manifestation of their grand will to devour the orthodox Martial World, the Baekdo world.

A single rite that declared both their unity and ambition.

Had Qing known, she would have thought:

Ah, I know that one.

Wasn’t there a corporation with a two-letter English name that climbed Samsung Mountain to bite into an apple?

A vow to trample Samsung underfoot by biting into an apple—exactly the same thing!

How utterly ridiculous.

****

Men always say this:

“I don’t seek a peerless beauty like Xi Shi. I just want a modest, easygoing woman I can talk with, to live out my life like a friend.”

Of course, this is not modest at all.

Especially not for the scholars of Hanlin Academy.

Considering the scholars here in Taewon were only here because the Confucian order had fallen out of favor with the throne and been driven out of the palace, their future was hardly bright.

Had Qing known a little more of China’s history, she might have thought: “Didn’t anyone stop Emperor Gaozu when he wanted to burn Mencius?” and remembered a strange point in history.

It was when Emperor Gaozu, reading Mencius, flew into a rage at one line:

“When the ruler treats his ministers with contempt, the ministers will regard the ruler as an enemy.”

Why such anger at a simple truth?

Because he was emperor.

Even if he burned, tortured, and killed a minister’s family on a whim, a minister was supposed to love the emperor as if he were his father.

That is, the emperor—no matter how vile—demanded unconditional respect.

And that has been the mindset of every ruler of the Central Plains throughout history, and likely of every future ruler as well.

In any case, the future of the Hanlin scholars was bleak.

And their lifelong learning amounted to nothing but text.

Which meant, when faced with that “modest woman, easy to talk with like a friend,” the only conversation they could offer was quoting Confucius and Mencius and the sages.

And as for saying they didn’t seek a beauty like Xi Shi—they never said an ugly woman would do.

They were no heroes like Zhuge Liang, who married the infamously ugly Huang Wuying simply for her brilliance.

So the ideal woman for the Hanlin scholars was rare, across all history.

At most, someone like Cai Yan.

Though records don’t call her beautiful, she bewitched countless men in her lifetime; it is simply taken for granted she was no ordinary woman.

And if they had to name another?

There was Seo Mun Cheong.

She was a fairy who pierced the hearts of Hanlin scholars.

She listened well even to tedious scripture talk.

Not just listened—she even chimed in with, “Wow, that’s amazing. You’re truly clever!”

She was lively, her mere presence bringing smiles, and unlike the timid scholars who only rolled their eyes if not begged, she gladly reached out first.

Her flaw, if any, was being too beautiful—so beautiful it made them despair.

Had she been merely ordinary, they might have dared. But her transcendent beauty made them think, “someone like me, a hundred million times over, could never...”

Thus, when morning lectures ended at Hanlin, the fiercest lectures began at lunch.

A contest: who could tell the most amusing story to Heavenly Flower Sword.

“Lady Seo Mun, do you know the saying ‘seja-seo, aja-a’?”

She didn’t.

“There is a phrase, ‘the use of the useless’...”

First time she’d heard it.

“Are you familiar with the tale of the mantis stalking the cicada? It goes...”

Of course she wasn’t.

Qing’s thought was:

Why do these guys keep pestering someone while she’s trying to eat...

Still, since everything was new, it wasn’t boring to listen.

And being good-natured, Qing listened to all of it.

Besides, they seemed so busy talking they hardly touched the food, leaving her with more—so it was to her benefit.

But not everyone was so good-natured.

Some had no wish to have their appetite spoiled by scholarly babble at the dinner table.

“What, you lofty scholars eat words instead of rice? Is this a restaurant or a scripture house? All high talk, huh? Hm?”

Like that.