Chapter 465: I Don’t Believe in Legends (1)

The Tyrant Force Sect warriors were shaken.

Utterly shaken.

Because the Young Lord was dead.

Had it been First Elder, they would only have put on a show of grief.

That decrepit monster, who lorded about as the true power of the sect with the Young Lord’s patronage—if he died, the other elders would have just nodded, thinking, Well, good riddance.

The deaths of First Rank and Second Rank brothers were nothing to mourn either.

They had been bastards who defied hierarchy under the Young Lord’s backing—future rivals at best.

But the Young Lord—he must never die.

Losing the heir, what if the Great Lord’s wrath turned on them? They trembled only out of fear for their own skins.

If at least the Young Lord had died cleanly...

But to the village survivors, the Young Lord was the enemy of enemies. His corpse had not even remained whole.

His head smashed to pulp with rocks. Flesh and bone stripped apart, entrails gutted and strewn.

The only intact part left was a scrap of neck, with the jaw attached.

So when the Tyrant Force Sect warriors counted the remains, they could only stare in horror. Was this really the Young Lord, the Little Commander’s remains?

In desperate hope, they prayed—please, please, let the Blood Sect have kidnapped him and swapped in another body.

So stunned, so dazed, they hadn’t even noticed all the greatsabers were gone.

That the murderer had calmly collected every masterless blade didn’t seem strange at all.

But not only the sabers were missing.

On Central Plains weapons, tassels are hung.

Decorative tassels, commonly called sushil.

Why, exactly, are tassels tied to weapons?

Is it the same as Qing’s homeland habit of dangling dolls from a bag?

Of course, there was that purpose too.

A fine, elaborate tassel marked the grade of the weapon. A matter of style that could not be ignored.

But that was only ever secondary.

The tassel was originally a tool for training.

When a sword was swung properly with force, the tassel would extend opposite the blade.

By observing how it moved, one could easily correct posture.

And for a teacher or senior to watch, it revealed at a glance what flaw existed in which form, making instruction easy.

And there was another use.

The tassel signified affiliation.

If one carried the tassel of a great and renowned sect, one could awe an opponent without even drawing a blade.

****

After breakfast, disguises fixed, they stepped outside. The wind was vicious.

Even with a bamboo rain-cape pulled low, rain gusted upward from below to splash their faces—a marvel of nature.

Not that such things could stop martial artists from their path.

Still, Qing thought, Ah, the mountains will just be a mudpit. And can we even camp outdoors in this rain?

The idea that Sangjang County, ringed like a crescent moon by Mount Lao, was actually sheltering them from even harsher winds—that kind of reasoning was far beyond Qing’s abilities.

Too high-level, too demanding a thought for her.

Apart from raindrops spraying her face and the chin-strap of her cape tugging her jaw, a mountain walk in the rain was surprisingly pleasant.

The steady patter of drops drumming.

And her cape still new—“professionally speaking,” unpierced—so no water seeped through.

Rain that doesn’t touch you always feels refreshing.

Their group reached the western slopes of Mount Lao.

Here, keeping balance became much easier.

The forest acted as a windbreak, so the gale only made the trees shake.

The rain that had been lashing up from below was now softened by leaves before falling, powerless.

So, cautiously, they advanced toward Mount Lao’s highest peak, Great Peak.

But, as always, loitering scoundrels blocked the way.

Should one call it admirable, their effort to snatch up Absorbing Essence Demon Art even in foul weather?

Though chasing such an art meant not a lucky break, but ruining their own lives, what joy could they possibly find in this zeal?

While the group crouched in the brush, Qing alone crept forward.

“You there—what are you doing?”

“Eek! I—I came to pick cornelian cherries.”

“What? A woodsman?”

“Sounds like a girl’s voice. Hey, lift that cape.”

“Y-yes.”

And—ta-da.

The two men’s eyes went wide.

They exchanged leering glances.

As the two approached, Qing shrank back.

“W-why are you doing this?”

“Why else? A man and a woman meet, what else is there to do?”

“P-please, my child is sick. Burning with fever—”

“Ahh, so you’ve got a kid? Then you know a man’s taste already. Don’t you know the saying, the more urgent, the more you go around? Rest a bit before going.”

“Rest, and you’ll forget that brat entirely. I’ll send you straight to bliss.”

“Hah, bliss my ass. With a twig like yours?”

“What was that? You seen it?”

“Of course. I nearly swatted it off, thought it was a worm. But then it pissed itself, so I realized—ah, it must be yours.”

“You son of a—”

Qing made her judgment.

She said she needed medicine for a sick child, and all they did was snigger and spit filth?

Death sentence.

A waste of air.

It was, in truth, a vicious entrapment.

A rainy, overcast day. A lonely forest.

A lowly girl, defenseless.

And pretty, besides.

Even a decent man might feel dark desire stirring.

And if not decent to begin with?

Of course, Qing hadn’t gone so far as to seduce them.

But her face—disguised or not—was temptation itself.

Whether one saw it as baiting them across the line or not...

“P-please, great hero, don’t—”

“Mm, ‘great hero.’ I like that. I’m the great hero, and he’s the little hero.”

“You bastard, cut it out.”

“Sorry. But calling small things big, that’d be a lie. Might as well kill me.”

“You fucker—”

“Whoa, whoa. Fine, you go first.”

“Brat.”

“Of course the little one should go in first.”

“Pfft.”

Ah shit, how do you not laugh?

A natural-born talent for making death jokes.

He’d have been famous as a comic on the streets—pity he lived like a thug and was about to die by the sword.

“What—you laughing? You bitch—augh!”

Zap. Heavenly Demon Light Beam.

A black line shot from Qing’s finger.

The thin ray struck the little hero’s ankle and popped in a small blast.

She couldn’t use Tathagata Divine Palm—its ringing like a great bell was far too loud here.

For ranged attacks, this was about all she had.

And its power was pitiful.

The little hero must have been at peak-level at least.

At that stage, the beam’s pop was nothing but physical force, leaving him hopping on one leg, clutching the other.

“Uh—urk.”

The big hero, stunned, took Qing’s straight hand-strike to the face.

Blood burst from his nose.

Oh—so this actually worked!

Qing marveled, even as the little hero snatched for his sword.

“You! You tricked us!”

Qing pointed past him with a finger.

“Ah! Someone behind you—careful!”

“Hmph! You think I’d fall for such a petty—”

“Distrustful, aren’t you.”

“How dare you cross the Twin Slayers of Yongcheon—urk.”

Whack! The little hero’s skull was clubbed from behind. He collapsed, legs giving way.

As his consciousness faded, he twisted his head with desperate effort.

And saw—a burly middle-aged man, gripping a thick wooden cudgel.

“Ugh... there really was someone...”

And down he went.

Of course, fainting wasn’t the end of martial life.

Nor would anyone let a clown go just because he was funny.

If fainting or a good joke spared you, the martial world would be a far warmer place than it was.

The trials of the Twin Slayers of Yongcheon had only just begun.

****

Mount Lao could be divided into four great quarters.

From the gorge slashing diagonally across it and the Baeksa River splitting it north and south: the northern massif was Bukak, the east Dongak.

At the waist clustered the First, Second, and Third Peaks.

And the south, rising along the southeastern coast, was Namak.

Qing’s party roamed the western side of Namak.

Here the lives of cruel martial artists chasing a faint hope of the dreaded Absorbing Essence Demon Art were snuffed out in torment.

Of course, not all lost their lives.

“P-please, I need cornelian cherries—”

“Kekeke. Girl, do you know who I am? The Spear that Slays a Thousand—Ban Salta! Do you know how many lives this spear has claimed?”

“Ahh—please, sir, my child is ill—”

“Keke, why tremble so? Think I’ll eat you?”

“Then—I’ll just be going—”

“Not so fast, bitch. Where do you think you’re going? You can’t.”

“But my child—”

“You stupid hag! This mountain’s crawling with fiends! If your brat’s sick, go to a doctor. What kind of idiot searches for herbs here? Get out before I kill you myself!”

“But—”

“You dog-bitch! If you’ve got a brat, all the more you should guard yourself! Drop dead looking for herbs, and you kill both mother and child. Out! Or should I send you off right here?”

...What, was he some foul-mouthed grandmother?

Whatever—failed as a beast.

“Ta-da. You pass for human. Sir warrior, you may now leave Mount Lao.”

“Huh? What?”

“Here, look. Sparkle, sparkle.”

As always, Qing conjured a tiny flickering starlight.

Ban Salta’s face twisted.

“What trick is this?”

“Mm. Not enough? Then look over there. Sparkle, sparkle.”

Cheon Yuhak sighed deeply and lifted Kanghwan.

Not a spark of qi, but a true star, glowing.

At last, Ban Salta’s face drained pale.

“Ah! Y-you—one of the exalted—”

“That word ‘exalted’ always feels strange. Mm. Anyway, you’re a bad man. But this trick won’t work on you. Why don’t you leave, instead of sniffing after demonic arts? People who wield gangqi are all over this mountain—it’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll... I’ll leave!”

“Live well. That’s why I’m sparing you.”

“I’ll live good, I swear!”

Qing watched Ban Salta’s evil karma slink away.

Lucky bastard.

Maybe he’d remembered a miserable childhood tied to his mother.

Maybe he’d just been struck by longing for her.

Either way, it had saved his life.

The next survivor was a strange one too.

He wanted her to promise marriage. He’d take care of her child, her husband, everything.

Hm? Awkward.

But the clincher—he swore he’d raise her child as his own, if she promised.

A pure-hearted adulterer. Just barely passed for human.

Cheon Yuhak clicked his tongue.

“Disciple, we need to adjust that disguise.”

“Eh? Why?”

“Think. Too much beauty is a problem too. Men are creatures who always point below the belt. You’ve practically dangled bait.”

So they added more here and there until she was a plain hag.

And the next thugs they met said—

“Shit, my eyes. Ruined my mood. Ugh, lost my appetite. Hey, do you know the lay of the land?”

“I don’t, I’m just looking for cornelian—Hey! Swinging swords at people mid-sentence? Unforgivable! You bastards have no mothers? Fail as humans! Pass as beasts! In the name of mothers everywhere!”

Anyway, the rotten will always find a way to die.

When she was pretty, they tried to drag her down.

When she was plain, they swung swords in disgust.

Either way, the hearts of villains were nothing but barren.

Failed as humans. Passed as beasts.