Chapter 468: I Don’t Believe in Legends (4)

If you were to ask what kind of bastards the Blood Sect are, you’d get a wide range of answers.

Creatures wearing human skin.

Damned vermin lurking on the edge of humanity.

Degenerate brats who take murder, slaughter, pillage, rape, torture, and destruction as life’s pleasures.

(Though—take rape out of the list, and someone in particular comes to mind.)

But that doesn’t mean every Blood Sect follower cuts people down for pleasure like some random Seo-something or Cheong-something brat.

Of course, the higher their rank, the more likely they are to lean that way.

Still, how could every single member of a clandestine, world-subverting organization in the shadows of the Central Plains be made up of nothing but those types?

The Blood Sect is a gathering of people who pity themselves.

Those who look upon themselves with sorrow.

Is there such a thing as a grave without a story?

Every Blood Sect follower’s story is wretched.

They’re the kind of people with such miserable pasts that it would almost make sense they carry hatred and rage against the world and want to burn it all down.

If you listen, you might even feel sorry for them.

But do you know the easiest way for a person to step out of the bounds of humanity?

It’s pitying oneself.

Because pitiful people must be spared.

Even in Qing’s homeland, with its advanced legal system, crimes born of survival get reduced sentences, don’t they?

Even if not, judges are human too.

When they see someone pitiful, or rich, or powerful, or an esteemed predecessor who held high office before retirement, leniency follows.

Hell, the first judge to show mercy to the pitiful even gets hailed like some saint.

All over town they shout:

“Look, this Judge Lord, absolute ruler of heaven and earth, judge of good and evil, noble aristocrat from birth, showed mercy to a mere commoner! Isn’t it beautiful?”

That’s how much leniency toward the pitiful is seen as virtue.

One could call it human nature.

Anyway.

The problem is when a person pities themselves.

If you are pitiful, you’re willing to let yourself off.

“I’m pitiful, so even if I bring harm to the world, I have my reasons.”

“This society made me pitiful, so if I kill and dismember people, they should overlook it.”

Because I am pitiful.

A grievous victim, wronged by the authorities, by martial artists, by the Central Plains, by heaven itself.

I am the victim.

That miraculous mindset that not only forgives oneself but even lets you hold your head high in pride.

Isn’t that why even that vicious Heavenly Slayer Demon uses it as a lure for humans?

And the Blood Sect has once again been abandoned by the world, by heaven.

Blood Flood Great Plan — Mutual Destruction Scheme!

The Blood Flood Great Plan means a scheme to flood the world with blood.

Exactly the kind of childish naming the Blood Sect would come up with.

And the Mutual Destruction Scheme is exactly that.

First, lure in the Evil Path with the bait of the Absorbing Qi Demonic Art.

Then, a beat later, drag in the Orthodox Factions.

The Orthodox brats, afraid that such a vile demonic art might fall into the hands of the Evil Path, will come running in a panic.

And once Orthodox and Evil Path martial artists overfill a confined ground, sooner or later they’ll clash, and the explosion will be enormous.

And if someone plants a fuse and lights it, the blast could be greater still.

That is the Blood Flood Great Plan, the Mutual Destruction Scheme.

But the plan hasn’t exactly been going smoothly.

It began with the failed Operation Annihilate the Beauties.

The idea was to publicly disgrace the Orthodox Factions by humiliating the Martial World’s Five Beauties.

That would weaken the Martial Alliance’s influence, which in turn would loosen Orthodox unity during the Mutual Destruction phase.

After all, Orthodox martial artists are still martial artists, and plenty would be tempted by the lure of Saljungsal—the Absorbing Qi Demonic Art that guarantees supremacy once mastered.

The righteousness of the Orthodox comes from appearances.

Operation Annihilate the Beauties wasn’t just for fun or to tarnish the Martial Alliance’s honor.

It was meant as a foundation to strip away that constant watchfulness they shoot at each other under the guise of “an Orthodox martial artist must be virtuous.”

Strip away the false show of virtue, the hypocrisy—reveal that they’re all just swordsmen, brigands with blades.

But what happened?

Instead of discord, it only fueled their unity: “We defeated the Blood Sect!”

Far from losing their watchfulness, the result was a more “successful” Martial World Tournament than ever.

It would have been better had it just failed.

The real problem is that somehow, information leaked.

Our planted agents all over are being wiped out.

Thanks to that, it’s become hard to deliver news of the Absorbing Qi Demonic Art to the Orthodox.

The Evil Path has been gathered in droves, but the Orthodox are dragging their feet.

Some nearby sects °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° or people came, but they’re not actively searching—they just linger in the city, watching how things unfold.

And then the rain comes.

Water fills the passages, poison leaks out.

The Blood Sect followers wear stifling gas masks, bailing water, breaking stone to dig drainage ditches...

Oh heaven!

Why is there never a time You don’t obstruct us!?

Do You hate us so much!?

Why are You so cruel!?

Are we truly abandoned children, forbidden even to fulfill our petty wishes!?

Are we not pitiful!?

We are so pitiful!!

Why—why can’t we be happy? Why!!!

If heaven were listening, it would scoff.

“I didn’t interfere. Some other bitch did.”

The world’s most wicked schemers were thwarted by the world’s most wicked woman.

That’s how it goes: poison against poison, fire against fire, evil cleansed by evil.

And now, upon these self-pitiful Blood Sect bastards, another trial descends.

“Uh, Elder Manbakja?”

“What?”

“The, uh, Evil Path bastards... um, they’re...”

“What? Spit it out.”

“They’re... killing each other.”

Am Haryong’s face twitches violently.

The truth is, if you want to soak the martial world in blood, you just need to cut down the Orthodox numbers.

The Evil Path brats, left alone, will always call for blood anyway.

But now those very Evil Path bastards are brawling with each other?

While the Orthodox grow stronger?

“What? Why? They were searching the sectors properly until now, weren’t they? The Evil Path is weaker already, so why the hell would they fight each other instead of the Orthodox? They’re dumb shits, but not that brainless!”

“Well, uh... seems some other Blood Sect branch got involved...”

The Tyrant Force Sect rampaged, vowing to avenge So Cheonju against the Blood Sect’s degenerates.

And as if on cue, big and small Evil Path sects alike got hit.

Right after the Martial World Tournament, no less, when heirs were everywhere—plenty died.

So now they’ve branded each other enemies and started stabbing one another.

The treasure’s been tossed aside, and they’re too busy fighting each other.

“Well, thanks to that, drifters and nameless riffraff have filled the gaps, but...”

“Riffraff like that don’t matter! What’s this about So Cheonju’s revenge? Tyrant Force Sect? Why the hell is our sect’s name being dragged in!?”

“Uh, the name... Eon Yeonyeong came up...”

“What? That woman—why...”

Am Haryong’s jaw works soundlessly in disbelief.

He lifts a hand to cover his eyes.

“Elder?”

“I hated even speaking to that woman. She’s just... gives me chills. Who knows what’s in her head.”

Muttering, Am Haryong walks to a wooden chest in the corner of the operations room.

Small enough to hold a sack of rice, but bound with many locks.

He undoes them one by one, and at last the lid creaks open—inside, shockingly, a person crammed in tight.

“Gasp.”

The subordinate swallows hard at the sight.

Just seeing a body twisted to fit into such a small chest is horrifying.

But then the bent head lifts with a crack, the crushed face stretching as a mouth opens wide.

“Yaaawn. Why wake someone when they’re sleeping? Old fart, no manners. This is why old people should just be killed off.”

She’s a beauty, but her mouth is venomous.

She wriggles her tightly wedged body free, finally rising, her voluptuous form snapping into full display.

No way that frame should’ve fit in the chest.

“Cut the nonsense. Contact your mistress.”

“What am I, your servant? First you lock me in a box, and now you order me around? Well, it was comfortable, but still. This is oppression of a jiangshi.”

“You bitch—”

“Po-lite-ly. Seriously. What did you waste your years on that you’ve thrown away all manners?”

“You don’t get the situation. Your mistress is about to ruin the whole plan. If you care about her life, you’ll fetch her right now!”

“Well, if I must. Sister, sister, are you there? Mhm. Mistress. Uh-huh. Hm? Ah. Okay.”

Then the jiangshi stares straight at Am Haryong.

He growls.

“You—what the hell are you thinking?”

The jiangshi answers.

“Didn’t connect. Mistress said she’s sleeping. Is it so urgent you’d wake someone?”

“The sun’s high! What sleep!? Connect her now!”

“No wonder your wife and kids ran off, with that filthy temper.”

“What!?”

“Sister, seems urgent. Uh-huh. Well, can’t be helped. Yeah. Disgusting, fuck. Uh-huh. Ahh. Even half-asleep, Mistress’s voice is the most beautiful under heaven. Ahh. Mistress, what’s the matter? You woke from such a delicious nap.”

“What the hell are you thinking, coming all the way here just to ruin things?”

“My lord, what fathomless stratagems must you be weaving? To this dull fool it looks like obstruction, but surely you have some higher wisdom. I beg your guidance.”

Am Haryong grinds his teeth so hard they nearly shatter.

The relay distorts everything into a farce.

Stripped of the middleman, the true dialogue is this:

“Why are you ruining everything? Do you not know how long we’ve prepared this plan?”

—Oh dear, ruining? Ruining what? The only ruin here is my nap, so sweet and deep.

“Don’t play dumb! Your name is being shouted all over Jimo right now! Why did you kill those Tyrant Force Sect bastards!?”

—What are you talking about? I’m here mingling with Malgal folk, suffering terribly.

Malgal folk?

In the Central Plains, calling someone “Malgal” is a vile slur.

Even Jurchens deny their own blood when insulted with it.

This is why he loathes her.

She seems polite, deferential.

But Am Haryong’s gut tells him—she has no real loyalty to the Blood Sect.

And his instincts, rare as they came, were usually right.

“Don’t play dumb. Who else but you would sic those corpse puppets to stir trouble? Or do you expect me to believe someone’s impersonating the Blood Sect!?”

Qing isn’t from the Central Plains, so she can impersonate the Blood Sect freely.

“What’s the problem?”—that’s her attitude.

But most people of the Central Plains can’t even imagine such a thing.

Impersonation itself is a disgrace, and to impersonate the Blood Sect’s degenerates is unthinkably vile.

That’s why Qing’s companions looked like the sky was falling when they saw her do it.

Qing herself, of course, didn’t care.

—Oh dear, corpse puppets? Such cruel words. And “control”? Strictly speaking, the Jiangshi aren’t Blood Sect members at all. They’re just kind souls who do me favors. I force nothing. They aren’t my subordinates. I couldn’t command them even if I tried.

“You expect me to believe a jiangshi master can’t control her own jiangshi?”

—Whether you believe or not doesn’t change the truth, does it? Hm. Still, it troubles me. Then... what would you have me do? Shall I personally hunt down the impostor using my name?

“Of course! Whoever uses your name, you’re responsible for cleaning it up!”

It’s absurd, really.

What guilt does the impersonated bear that they must clean up the mess?

No, this is nothing but obvious buck-passing.

“It’s your mess, so you fix it.”

Once Eon Yeonyeong steps in, directly or through jiangshi, she becomes a party to the plan.

Then every failure can be pinned on her.

A crafty old bastard’s ploy to shift the blame.

But Eon Yeonyeong, oblivious or simply carefree, answers lightly.

—If Elder insists, how could I dare refuse? Do you truly wish me to resolve this impostor myself?

“Yes!”

She replies:

—Then I have no choice but to obey Elder’s will.