Chapter 475: I Don’t Believe in Legends (11)

Meanwhile, inside the stone chamber, the Gonghyeoldan technician, peeking and listening to what was unfolding outside, was utterly dumbfounded.

As an actual practitioner of mechanism arrays, he had never once heard the title Divine Sovereign Emperor of Mechanisms.

Nor that ridiculous name, Da Yeoreum.

Still, it could be an alias, so he watched tensely.

And what he saw was a complete farce.

She wasn’t even observing the most basic procedures of examining a mechanism array.

What sane person hammered, stroked, and shoved their strength into a trap formation without the slightest clue what might be triggered?

A proper technician first dug around the perimeter, then carefully studied the functional core before approaching.

This brat looked like some quack who had skimmed a few books and now wanted to cash in big.

The more he thought about it, the more outrageous it was.

Not only was she impersonating a master of mechanisms, but she was even making gold out of it!

The Gonghyeoldan technician’s gaze hardened as he looked to the wall, specifically at the rope labeled Tunnel Collapse.

Should he cut it, or not?

Even with the West Gate lost, there were still the East, South, and North Gates. He could bring one crashing down to give that con artist girl a bitter lesson.

But... the thought of his comrades’ blood and sweat bound into the passage gnawed at him.

It was the Gonghyeoldan’s masterpiece, dug inch by inch for over twenty years.

Every trap on the way to the treasure chamber was forged by years of toil.

To collapse it would mean throwing away the entire two decades of the West Gate excavation team.

So what to do?

Dirty, shameless, infuriating as it was—he had to endure.

Outside, Qing kept making little noises.

“Mhm.” “Oh.” “I see.”

“Ah, so that’s how you’ll play? Well, I won’t lose!”

Inside, though, she was flustered.

Damn it. What the hell. I don’t get it at all.

What do I have to press to make this collapse?

No, wait. Isn’t the premise absurd?

Place a heart—an Absolute’s heart—and the gate opens?

What, is someone secretly watching from behind, ready to pull a lever once they see an Absolute’s heart?

Nah. As if the Central Plains had surveillance systems.

If it wasn’t clairvoyance, there’d have to be peepholes at least—but with her superhuman hearing, Qing would have caught any presence.

There was nothing.

Then the secret must lie within the heart-slot itself.

But even as she swept it with her keen senses, there was no device. Not even a pinhole.

What the hell was the principle?

The only thing she could think of was—weight?

Maybe she had underestimated Central Plains mechanism arrays after all.

Then again, this was a world where men shot beams of light, flew through the sky, and split cliffs with starlight.

Yeah... she really didn’t get it.

So Qing threw up her hands and declared,

“Mhm! The riddle is solved!”

All eyes snapped toward her.

Qing planted her fists on her hips and said proudly,

“Everyone! This thing about needing an Absolute’s heart to open the gate—don’t you think that’s strange?”

“What—”

“What do you mean by that? This one is most curious. You must explain at once.”

Before Jung Gichung could speak, the Freak Monk cut in.

Qing didn’t care who answered—she just let words tumble out.

“According to the examination of this Divine Emperor Lord of Mechanisms—”

“Excuse me, wasn’t it Divine Sovereign Emperor of Mechanisms?”

Pobidon butted in.

Qing’s face wrinkled in annoyance.

“Ugh. Whether it’s this or that, it’s all the same once you throw four big words together! Are you going to keep interrupting? Should I just give your gold back and go home?”

“N-no, that’s not—”

“Anyway. Usually, a mechanism tests the weight or shape of what’s placed on it. But hearts? Tell me—would the heart of that plump uncle and that skeletal monk over there be the same size?”

“Plump?!”

Pobidon jumped in outrage.

But the crowd glanced between him and the Freak Monk, realizing something.

The weight difference was at least fivefold—how could their hearts be the same size?

At their dawning expressions, Qing nodded.

“Yes, that’s right. Their hearts are the same size.”

“...?”

Few in the Central Plains had seen as many hearts as Qing.

By experience, aside from the difference between male and female, hearts were much the same.

But.

“Did you know hearts can also grow fat? That uncle’s would be all covered in greasy tissue. But the heart itself would still be about the same size.”

“So what is your point?”

“Listen. If we’re placing a heart, how exactly? Do we trim off the fat neatly first? Do we drain the blood by bloodletting? How much of the large vessels should we leave attached? What about freshness? How long after death is still valid? Half-rotten—does that work? What about contamination? Can you use a heart from someone killed by poison?”

“Huh? Now that you mention it—”

Now that they thought of it, she had a point.

Even Qing, as she spoke, felt—wait, this actually makes sense?

All it ever said was “offer an Absolute’s heart.” Never once did it explain how.

And really—did an Absolute’s heart flow with qi instead of blood?

Once ripped out, it was the same heart as any other.

Those who’d handled mechanisms understood even more.

Even simple contraptions like water-boiling devices or arrow traps had a mess of tricky conditions and fiddly manipulations.

“So my conclusion is—this is a complete fraud! Whether it’s an Absolute’s heart or whatever, putting one in won’t do a damn thing. I stake my grandfather’s honor on it!”

Everyone tilted their heads.

Why stake your grandfather’s honor? Why not your own?

So if she was wrong, only her grandfather’s name was ruined?

Still, in a world ruled (or pretending to be ruled) by filial piety, staking an ancestor’s honor carried more weight than one’s own.

But still—selling out your grandfather? What a shameless whore.

The Freak Monk raised an objection.

“This one cannot understand. If that were so, then why was such a phrase inscribed?”

“Mm... maybe just to make people kill each other?”

“Gasp!” “What!” “Unthinkable!”

It was such a convincing idea they couldn’t help their outcry.

Eyes widened all around.

“##. These Central Plains dogs truly lack parents. Even demons of character would be impressed.”

The barbarians’ words drew glares, but the Freak Monk didn’t care.

Then Jung Gichung fixed her with a sharp gaze.

“So. What is the conclusion?”

“I told you—putting in a heart won’t work!”

“Not that. Then how do we open the gate?”

At that, all eyes swung toward her.

Whether the heart-thing was a hoax didn’t matter.

What mattered was—how to open it.

Qing rapped the stone with her knuckles.

“There’s always a way. Watch.”

She picked up a stone at her feet and scratched lines on the gate.

She drew a neat rectangle, big enough for a person to pass through.

“Here—this is the hollow section. I mapped it by knocking and probing. This is the highest art of the Emperor-Sovereign-Lord of Mechanisms!”

Her titles kept shifting.

Pobidon noticed one of the four had dropped out entirely, but he wisely held his tongue—engaging her only led to losses.

“And then?”

“Then what? Sword qi! Elder, you sliced steel like tofu with it, didn’t you? Stone should be easier. Just cut here. Done.”

“What?”

“If you can’t open the door, then cut through it!”

It was such a crisp, dazzlingly simple answer.

If the door won’t open—then break it down!

A thought to change the worldview of nations!

Like the egg of Columbus—obvious, yet unseen.

“This crazy bitch!”

The Gonghyeoldan technician, unable to bear it, shouted out loud.

They had carved warnings in bold: If forced open, it will collapse. And now these idiots were really going to slice through it?

The problem was—that would actually work.

It was just stone. With sword qi, it would carve easily.

“No, no. Who would be stupid enough to listen to such a lunatic? It says clearly not to force it.”

Muttering, the technician gnawed his nails.

Fortunately, the plump uncle—Pobidon—intervened.

“Girl, it says there it will collapse if forced. Do you think that wise?”

“Normally yes—forcing it would shake the whole structure. That’s how mechanism arrays work. But you, elder—you cut iron as if it were bean curd. Would that cause any shock?”

“Hm?”

“The designer never imagined anyone would slice the gate. At most, they expected chiseling or blasting with firebombs.”

Weirdly, that sounded convincing.

“So then, I’ve done my part. You’ll handle the cutting, right, elder?”

“What? You mean me?”

“Well, unless you want to collect a cutting fee, too.”

A cutting fee.

That phrase made the masters flinch.

Jeollak Fortress already had the excuse of paying for the entry fee.

They couldn’t let another master claim a new pretext for authority.

“There are many masters here. We cannot burden you alone, elder. I, Pobidon, will aid you.”

“This one as well has skill.”

The Gonghyeoldan technician nearly went mad.

These maniacs were really going to cut through the door!

He rushed to the emergency pipe, opened the cover, and shouted into it:

“Master! Trouble! At the West Gate, fools are trying to cut through the door!”

The reply came, stern and cold.

—Then collapse it. Are the East, South, and North Gates intact?

In other words: is that the only entrance?

The technician drew his blade.

As he raised it high, memories of the last twenty years rushed through him.

His younger self, sighing in despair at the endless mountain of rock.

The pride of seeing the tunnel gradually carved, proof that human will could conquer nature.

The comrades buried in cave-ins, each loss cutting deep.

The day they finally completed it, embracing one another in tears and triumph.

And most recently, the suffocating labor of pumping water and laying drains in stifling leather hoods.

All of it—every struggle, sacrifice, and joy—would vanish with a single cut.

His arm trembled violently.

Tears welled and streamed down his chin.

What had his years meant?

His toil, his fallen comrades, his youth—where had it all gone?

But it was all for the Cause.

To burn this rotten world to ash.

And at last, the technician’s arm fell.