Chapter 474: I Don’t Believe in Legends (10)

Jeollak Fortress’s Holy Lord, Jung Gichung, felt the urgency of making a decision.

Mount Lao was bounded on the east and south by the sea.

To the northwest lay the great city of Jimo.

Naturally, martial artists would swarm toward the West Gate and the North Gate.

Even now, at dawn, with the sky faintly dyed by the sea’s light, this was the case.

When the sun rose fully, how many more moths to the flame would descend?

And all those pests rushing for the Absorbing Qi Demonic Art—where would they flock?

Either they would join the vagabond masses or merge with miscellaneous forces to build momentum.

But Jeollak Fortress and the Tyrant Force Sect had no more allies to draw.

At best they could pull in a scattering of small, ragged sects from the Evil Path.

And among these nameless guests who hadn’t yet revealed their identities, most of them were such petty Evil Path drifters.

They knew well that attaching themselves to Jeollak Fortress or the Tyrant Force Sect meant only being used as expendables and cast away.

Because that was exactly what Jeollak Fortress and the Tyrant Force Sect intended.

And likewise, if the Demonic Union had been present here, Jeollak Fortress and the Tyrant Force Sect would have shed their robes and slunk off to join the miscellaneous side for the same reason.

In other words: the longer time dragged on, the worse their position became.

“Gentlemen, I am Jeollak Fortress’s Holy Lord, Jung Gichung. As you all know, there is no profit in stalling any longer, is there?”

To this, Pobidon nodded.

And almost naturally, the Freak Monk who had taken a sort of spokesman’s place for the miscellaneous side also indicated his agreement.

By appearances of power structure, delaying would favor the vagabonds and the miscellaneous lot.

But?

There was only one manual. And even if there were more than one, not a single person here had any intention of dividing the divine art.

Which meant that once the gate opened, everyone became rivals and obstacles.

Dragging out time solved nothing.

“What will you do, then? Are you prepared to rip out a heart? Whose heart will it be?”

“Are you proposing we draw lots? Who would draw lots for a chance to sacrifice their heart, only to let others reap the benefit?”

At this, Jung Gichung offered what he thought was a clever solution.

“Must it be the heart of someone here? Why not take the heart of someone who has yet to arrive?”

He meant: when the next Absolute appeared, they would all attack together.

At that, voices of “Ah!” and sighs of relief broke out here and there.

Faces lit up.

But then—

“Tsk, tsk. Fools. Do you think Absolutes are so common? And even if one shows, would such a master ever appear alone, without followers? Then what—shall the so-called Ten Evil Celestial Sects handle it for you?”

A sly, needling voice cut in, dousing the mood like cold water.

Jung Gichung flinched slightly and asked,

“And who might you be, elder?”

“Tsk, tsk. Your head doesn’t turn? If I were the type to announce who I was, would I be standing behind some fake monk like this? Just think of me as an older senior, brat.”

It was Elder Cheon Yuhak, his words sharp as he spread his qi.

Jung Gichung frowned at the utterly discourteous tone.

But that was simply the way old Evil Path masters spoke. He was used to it, so it did not wound him.

“So then, will you of the Ten Evil Celestial Sects step forward and cut out the heart?”

“Not so. But with Great Hero Pobidon here, and the Freak Monk as well, if the Flower Realm experts joined hands—”

“What? And why should I trust you? If a strike went astray, the easiest thing would be to remove one of my greatest rivals! Since when did Evil Path bastards start talking like some Righteous Sect flunky?”

At that, Pobidon and the Freak Monk’s faces hardened.

Because, on reflection—it was true.

The Ten Evil Celestial Sects were at least a single bloc and could fight back to back. But the vagabonds and miscellaneous were just a gathering of individuals, brought together for convenience.

“Then what stratagem does senior propose?”

Jung Gichung’s tone was impudent.

But Cheon Yuhak only gave a derisive snort.

“This is why blockheaded fools like you fail. If you really meant to open the Treasure Map’s vault, shouldn’t you have first found an expert in mechanisms and formations? Idiots, incapable of thought. Tsk, tsk.”

“That is truth indeed. This one agrees fully. The heads of the Central Plains are merely decorations. Their devotion to a false Buddha is the proof.”

The Freak Monk nodded gravely, lending his support.

Suddenly the focus of the gathering shifted as one.

Who was this barbarian bastard, swaggering like this when he’d come alone?

“Ahem. Senior, then are you saying you brought such an expert?”

“You think I’m a half-wit like you? Go on, open it. You must have bragged you could open anything.”

“Hmph. I am the unrivaled Master of Mechanisms, the Divine Sovereign Emperor of Mechanisms, Da Yeoreum! No one in the world knows mechanisms as I do! This shabby stone gate? In front of Da Yeoreum, it will yield at once!”

At that, the assembly tilted their heads.

“Divine Sovereign Emperor of Mechanisms?”

Divine, Sovereign, Emperor—such an overblown epithet that even an actual emperor would shrink from it.

And Da Yeoreum? What kind of name was that?

Surely if she were such a great master of mechanisms, someone would at least have heard of her.

Yet no one had.

“Divine Sovereign Emperor of Mechanisms!”

“Da Yeoreum!”

“Da Yeoreum!”

Fortunately, someone did shout in recognition.

Namgung Sinjae and Jin Jangmyeong declared it proudly.

Only Murong Juhee, having blurted it out, dropped her head, ears burning crimson, as though she could not bear to face anyone.

Suspicious glances turned their way—hadn’t they come together with this strange girl?—and her shame only deepened.

Still, to any ear it sounded like an alias.

And if it wasn’t, then she had surely found her true vocation.

Qing raised the stakes further.

“Alright then, but shouldn’t we settle accounts? This doesn’t look like any ordinary mechanism formation. If I’m going to open the gate, shouldn’t there be something in it for me too?”

“You little brat. After gobbling so many gold taels, now you want more? Have you ever seen such a golden grub?”

“No, elder, you paid your price already. But if I open this gate, shouldn’t even the errand boy at an inn be tossed a coin? Look at how many here wish to enter—surely a little show of sincerity is only right?”

In other words: pay up.

It was brazen, but somehow it inspired sudden confidence as well.

Her manner implied the gate was already as good as open.

Jung Gichung seized the chance.

Moments like this were how one naturally claimed authority.

If he spoke here, people would gradually treat him as the spokesman, the host.

“You, girl—can you really open this gate?”

“Of course. I am Da Yeoreum! The radiant sun of the Mechanism World, Da Yeoreum! You mean you haven’t heard of me? And who are you, uncle? Are you someone famous? Forgive me, this maiden knows nothing of the martial world.”

“What insolence—”

“Silence! This is Jeollak Fortress’s Holy Lord you are addressing!”

“Gasp! The Provincial Commander himself? Eh? But Jeollak Fortress? Did another city rise in the Central Plains?”

“You ignorant girl!”

“Enough.”

Jung Gichung stayed his disciple.

On reflection, it seemed not an alias but indeed her true name.

Martial artists knew martial affairs.

But what was this “Mechanism World”?

No such circle had ever been spoken of.

So it made sense that a craftsman might be ignorant of martial affairs.

A woman who didn’t even know the reputation of the Ten Evil Celestial Sects must indeed have been cloistered away tinkering with mechanisms.

“Very well, how much do you demand?”

“Hehe. How much did you bring?”

At that, Jung Gichung was struck dumb.

Wasn’t it the seller who set the price?

How much did you bring? Did opening a gate have a market rate?

And even if there was, as she said, who but “the Mechanism World” would know it? How could the client know?

Utterly unreasonable!

Rage welled up from deep in Jung Gichung’s chest.

“And so many people here. Tsk, when will we ever finish calculating? Lord Holy, why not just pay a single gold tael for everyone?”

Jung Gichung was torn between anger and disbelief.

“You expect me to pay for them all? Why?”

“Well, you’re the highest-ranking man here. If you cover the fee, won’t that give you even greater benefit?”

The retort checked Jung Gichung mid-anger.

It was... persuasive.

After all, why should he pay for the entry of rivals and obstacles? That was like throwing money in the gutter.

But it was more than that!

This was buying something far greater than the cost of entry.

If he paid for them all, then he held the justification and authority to dictate order and conditions of entry.

“A clever girl. Very well.”

“Wait! We will pay our own way—”

Pobidon rushed to interject, but Jung Gichung acted first.

“Ah! The gold tael comes flying! Much obliged!”

“Girl! We will pay our own! Refund us the difference, quickly!”

“Refund? After taking a gold tael? What change? No, no—please give it all to Lord Holy!”

“That damned ‘Lord Holy’! I tell you, that man is not a Provincial Commander!”

“What? He’s not? But he is the Holy Lord of Jeollak Fortress, isn’t he? Gasp, then is he a Commander-General?”

“No! Jeollak Fortress is no city!”

“Oh? Then what is it?”

“A martial faction, not a city!”

“Wow. Now martial sects are granted city titles? I should have studied divine manuals instead of mechanisms.”

“Agh! Infuriating! Why won’t you understand!”

Pobidon slapped his own chest, flesh rippling in concentric waves.

Qing watched in fascination.

He might be bigger than me.

Couldn’t we just give him the Tri-Pig title?

In any case, Qing strode briskly toward the stone gate.

The crowd parted smoothly, as though it was only natural that the “Divine Sovereign Emperor of Mechanisms” would be the one to open it.

Cheon Yuhak beamed with satisfaction.

What a seamless morale play!

To demand money so boldly, she truly seemed the master of mechanisms.

No bickering over whether she had the skill, no tedious verification—she even turned a profit in gold.

As always, the disciple simply refused to study.

But she certainly had brains.

This was the faith of parents and teachers everywhere.

Yet in truth, brains came in many kinds: study-brains, work-brains, trick-brains, bad-brains.

And if you overtrusted the wrong sort, disappointment was sure to follow.

Thus Qing planted herself before the stone gate.

Her companions stood as though guarding the great master of mechanisms.

“Well then, let’s see what sort of grand mechanism this is. Oh... oh.”

She tapped busily at the stone gate, knocking here and there, pressing her ear against it as though listening.

Then she slipped her hand into the heart-slot.

She stroked lightly, then flexed her forearm so the veins stood out as she pressed hard.

To watching eyes, nothing ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) was apparent.

But in truth, her superhuman strength was crushing down inside the heart-slot—left, right, above, below, inward!

And Qing, inwardly, was flustered.

Hm. Why isn’t it collapsing?

This was supposed to be the core. She’d thought a little pressure would be enough to bring it down.