Chapter 441: Every Treasure Has a Sad Legend (2)

The rowdy noise of the tavern fell still, as quiet as an isolated forest.

The Hanlin scholars—who possessed no real talent besides their tongues—bristled, ready to glare down the insolent brutes who dared interrupt the wise words of the sages... but then, oh dear.

They took a proper look.

They did look like brutes.

Hair wild and sticking out in all directions, skin dark and weathered—they were, by all appearances, savage barbarians with no roots.

And not just any barbarians. Ferocious ones.

Of course, the scholars knew well the teachings of the sages: one must not ignore injustice.

But Confucius also taught—when someone squats and shits in the middle of the road, you walk around.

The teaching: Haoubuli—a fool will never change, so don’t waste your breath. Let the idiot live as an idiot.

And so, it was Qing—who had the least formal education among them—who alone dared defy Confucius and simply stared at the thugs.

They’re bad people.

But must every bad person be beaten to death?

Besides, wasn’t the fault partly on their side this time?

No matter how much restaurants are places to eat, drink, and talk, if they were too loud, that could’ve irritated someone.

And maybe those guys just wanted to eat in peace.

If someone picks a fight just because they were annoyed, isn’t that just finding a pretext for murder, not righteous action?

“We were loud and caused a disturbance. I offer my apologies, so please let your anger go,” Qing said softly and politely.

But Confucius was no weakling scholar.

He was the leader of disciples during a brutal era, a warlord in essence—strong in body, and a master of all eighteen martial weapons of antiquity.

The Eighteen Arms—bow, crossbow, sword, saber, great saber, spear, short spear, halberd, crescent blade, shield, axe, hammer, whip, club, staff, net, dagger, and bare hands—varied slightly by region.

Would a master of all eighteen arts tell you to avoid the strong because he couldn’t handle them?

No.

When Confucius said to avoid madmen, it wasn’t cowardice.

It was wisdom: there’s no reasoning with the unreasonable, so don’t waste your breath.

Suddenly, the thugs’ presence exploded like a spike of pressure.

A person of culture, when met with someone humbling themselves, would think they’re offering a way out.

But a person without culture—a complete bastard—assumes the other is scared and groveling.

This is a universal mark of trash, true across East and West, past and future.

“Keh-heh... The elders' mood’s already been ruined. You think running your filthy mouth will make it better? Huh? How about a real apology?”

“A real apology?” Qing asked calmly.

“You’re a woman, aren’t you? Then use your body to make it up to us elders. What’s with all those fussy clothes? Strip off and come pour us a drink. Heh heh.”

...What the hell? Some wannabe man of leisure?

Qing swallowed her anger again.

The character for “patience” (忍) is made of the blade (刃) over the heart (心).

It means to press down the urge to stab someone.

Which is to say, “patience” also contains the implication of cruelty and ruthlessness.

“My companions may have raised their voices in mirth, but meals are meant to be loud and joyful, are they not? How can you say something so crude in response?”

“You don’t seem to grasp the situation. We’re the kind of men who can’t stand hearing that Confucius-Mencius bullshit. Kills our appetite. You ruined our meal.”

“So?”

“You know who we are? We’re the Three Fiends of Byeongju—men so fierce even brawny warriors piss themselves at the sight of us.”

Ah. This one’s back again?

Qing counted—two, three...

“Byeongju Three Fiends!” “Byeongju Three Dogs!” “Byeongju Three Fiends!”

Roughly one in three patrons called out some version of the name. Famous enough, it seemed.

And with “fiend” and “dog” tacked on the end? Definitely not reputable types.

Qing smiled faintly.

“Ever hear this one? In the Martial World, beware of old men, women, and children.”

“Khaha! You saying you’re some kind of supreme master, girl...? Heheh, you shoulda said so earlier.”

Starlight.

Starlight descended into the human world, and it whispered:

“Kneel, you bastards.”

Qing let out a long sigh.

Seriously—why?

Why doesn’t polite speech ever work?

This turned out fine because I am a master.

But if I weren’t?

These were the guys who told a woman to strip and serve drinks.

If they ended up crying and begging for mercy later, would I have forgiven them?

“Now. Got anything to say?” Qing asked.

“We—we didn’t recognize your greatness—”

“Does it matter whether I’m ‘great’? If ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) I wasn’t, then what? Why is it that people can’t understand when others speak politely? I said I was sorry. I mean, what, did those scholars have internal energy in their voices? It’s not like they were even that loud. Was it even something to apologize for in the first place?”

“That is...”

Qing sighed again as she looked down at the three now kneeling men.

“Thinking about it, not even knowing who’s a master, you picked a fight. If you’d ended up dead, it’d count as a natural death. Even if it wasn’t me, someday you’d mess with the wrong person and get what’s coming. So let’s just leave it at a little life lesson. One arm each.”

“P-please, great hero! A martial artist without an arm is—”

“You called yourselves the Byeongju Three Fiends, didn’t you? Guys with ‘fiend’ in their name aren’t exactly saints. What happens when the rumor spreads that the Heavenly Flower Sword let thugs like you off? You think I wanna be blamed for that later? Even if I don’t kill you, I’m at least taking an arm each so I can sleep at night.”

Heavenly Flower Sword.

The Three Fiends’ eyes lit up.

If it was her, wasn’t she just at the start of Absolute-tier?

If the three of them attacked together, maybe they could win.

The Three Fiends exchanged glances, whispering without sound.

But Qing read the air.

Not metaphorically—she literally read the air.

A hypersensitive mastery of fluid dynamics let her perceive every movement within a confined space.

Why? Why doesn’t anything ever work with kindness?

Why couldn’t they just accept losing an arm and walk away?

They’d done more than enough evil to deserve it. If anything, one arm was cheap. Couldn’t they just happily hand one over and leave?

Qing sighed once more.

“Kill her!!”

Turns out kneeling was just to gain momentum. The three lunged like arrows, their speed vicious.

A flash of steel. Glinting blades.

In that instant, Qing’s body fragmented into shimmering afterimages—eight in total—leaping, dodging, vaulting, and flipping in all directions.

Neungpami Step was great, but dizzying.

It twisted the qi of nature itself, folding space—a real-life form of teleportation.

To others, it looked like dazzling martial prowess.

To the user, it felt like the world was unfolding and collapsing in every direction—a sickening, whirling sensation.

Only someone with Qing’s superhuman body could endure it.

Anyone else—even a regular Absolute-tier—would’ve staggered, puked, and collapsed from the nausea.

But Qing’s body endured.

With a crisp flourish, she reappeared behind her enemies and reached out.

Slender fingers gripped the back of one thug’s head—could’ve been the first, second, or third—didn’t matter.

One of the three had tried to flee instead of attack.

Too bad for him—he was caught.

With the brutal strength of a street brute, Qing grabbed him and smashed him back-first to the floor.

CRACK.

The hard tavern floor cracked open.

His leg twisted at a gruesome angle, and a scream tore out of him.

One down.

The others turned just in time to see Qing’s body stretch out—limbs elongating like rubber, a motion so fast it left moldy dust trailing behind.

Both her arms curved like sickles, drawing back behind her waist like bowstrings.

Then—snap!—both palms shot forward, long fingers splayed.

Her hands buried deep into the lower bellies of the two.

Minor Demonic Art, First Form: Absolute Scarcity.

Cut off the enemy’s line—and laugh.

Both thugs dropped to their knees simultaneously, clutching their stomachs as bright red blood gushed from their mouths.

Qing clapped her hands off.

“Ugh, one of them tried to run—zero originality. No sense of honor, no loyalty, not even any skill. Now then—would anyone here, perhaps among the well-informed, be able to tell me who exactly these ‘Byeongju Three Fiends’ were?”

“They were vicious bandit scum!”

One lay with his leg bent the wrong way.

Two lay vomiting blood, writhing on the floor.

Had they not been so thoroughly defeated, others might’ve stayed silent. But now that it was clear they were done for, courage and accusations bubbled forth.

Turns out the Byeongju Three Fiends had once been elite Northern army soldiers.

But their pillaging had crossed the line—they were discharged for cruelty.

And it wasn’t just that they tortured and killed foreigners across the northern border.

The problem was—they’d done the same to Han villages near the frontier.

And so, they were wanted even by the military, with large bounties on their heads.

They’d lived slinking back and forth across the border to escape pursuit.

Qing tilted her head.

“Wait, then why the hell did you crawl all the way to Taewon? You trying to die? If that’s your wish, I’m happy to grant it.”

“W-wait! We didn’t come here randomly!”

“And if you hadn’t?”

“I-if you’ll just spare our lives, we’ll tell you everything! Something even you, great hero, might be interested in—!”

“Not interested. Was that your last will?”

“No! Wait! It’s—it’s the Treasure Map! We came looking for the Treasure Map! If you spare us, we’ll give it to you!”

At that, one of them suddenly cried out in panic.

****

Cheon Yuhak had spent over two months focusing entirely on decoding the Treasure Map.

And now, at last, that obsession bore fruit.

He’d narrowed down the most likely candidate sites to five.

All that remained was to go and check each one in person.

“Master, I’m back.”

“Ah, so you are. Hmm? And who are those people you dragged in? What did you do to their limbs?”

“They were cheap trash anyway. Hard to even call them people.”

“Well, if you say so, I won’t question it. But more importantly...”

And just like that, the Byeongju Three Fiends became “those people.”

But Cheon Yuhak was not the type to show any mercy to human garbage.

He also trusted absolutely that his overly kind disciple would never harm the innocent.

So, no worries.

What really mattered...

“Heh. I’ve finally done it—I’ve finished decoding the Treasure Map! There are five places in the Central Plains that match the markings. We’ll start with Liaoning and work our way through, one step at a time.”

“Is Shandong Province’s Jimo County one of them?”

“Eh? How did you know?”

Qing sighed deeply.

“The map doesn’t say what’s buried there, does it?”

“Well, whatever it is, it must be incredible to have been hidden this securely.”

Qing casually dropped the answer.

“Supposedly, it’s Absorption Demonic Art.”