Chapter 666: Heaven-Earth Seeing Hound (5)

Jayeo’s brows bent into the shape of the character for eight.

With the dark smudged shadows under her eyes, and her shoulders hunched with her neck tucked in, she looked downright pitiful.

“Hey, why are you crushing the kid’s spirit? Look how shriveled she is.”

“What did I even do. So who is this?”

“Jayeo. My daughter.”

Jin Jangmyeong’s eyes flew wide.

Eyes popped, pupils trembling, lips stuck half-open. If she’d had fruit tea in her mouth, it would have dribbled straight out.

Then Jangmyeong blurted, urgent.

She almost lunged with the question.

“Daddy—who’s the child’s father?”

“Me.”

“...?”

“Me. Seomun Cheong. Heavenly Flower Sword. End-of-century super-genius.”

“I asked who the father is.”

“I said me. Right, Jayeo?”

Jayeo nodded with her neck still tucked.

Stammering, Jangmyeong asked again.

“Then who’s the mother?”

“For now—right now, Iri?”

“...??”

Who starts a mother’s introduction with “for now”? For now, meaning to begin with.

And what’s “right now” supposed to be?

So the mother changes later?

Jin Jangmyeong was thrown into confusion!

Then suddenly—

“Iri. Ice-Flower. What’s the relationship between you two?”

“Friends? Honorary member? My daughter’s mother?”

“Don’t fool around. Seriously—what are you two. You go ‘child’s dad, child’s mom’ and—”

“Why? Then Jangmyeong, you be Mom, too.”

She said it like hawking an item to take home.

Was she planning to turn all the women under heaven into moms for Jayeo?

“Huh?”

“Jayeo—this is Mom. Real Mom Jin. Looks about your age, but in truth she’s much older.”

“Another mom?”

“The more moms, the better.”

Jayeo nodded.

It was strange, but if Qing said pure nonsense, she nodded first and asked later.

Jin Jangmyeong was at a loss.

The more moms, the better—what even—but before that—

The jab about being “much older” rubbed the wrong way, but even before that—

“Who talks about a child like that?”

“What, brat. Are you saying you refuse the honor of being my daughter’s mother?”

“Huh?”

Jangmyeong’s mind spun a moment.

My daughter’s mother. Sister is the dad. I’m the mom.

There’s one weird woman in the mix...

Sister is the dad, I’m the mom—so, a couple.

Jangmyeong’s face flushed scarlet.

“I’ll do it. From now on I’m your mom, okay?”

Awkwardly, she spread her arms.

Jayeo glanced up at Qing, saw her father nod, then shuffled in for a hug.

The moving mother–daughter formation moment; an awkward, flimsy embrace if there ever was one.

Another confusing line was added to Jayeo’s family tree.

With Jin Jangmyeong joining courtyard duty, the cleaning wrapped up fast.

As Qing’s property caretaker (unofficial, unpaid, pure passion), in a pointlessly huge lot with a millet-grain hut, that yard was big.

And Jangmyeong was, frankly, a sweeping expert—an authority.

Then they perched on the Grand Headmaster Hall’s front steps, caught their breath, and shared the recent happenings.

Jayeo had settled into her new mom’s arms; a kid holding a kid—honestly closer to sisters than mother–daughter.

To the elders, Qing didn’t look much different either—more like sisters with a noticeable age gap than father–daughter.

But with Jangmyeong and Jayeo, no matter how you looked, they were indistinguishable from two tots a year or two apart.

Both kept sneaking glances at Qing, as if begging for help—clearly uncomfortable.

But no helping; not allowed; keep holding each other. That’s how you get close.

“So, Jangmyeong—want to go to the Righteous-Proper Academy, too?”

“Yeah. I’m going.”

An answer without a beat of hesitation.

From Mount Lao on, even if she didn’t pester, Jin Jangmyeong inwardly wanted to follow Qing’s martial journeys.

The natural response.

Thus: Jin Jangmyeong—joining the Academy!

“...For those reasons, I’m going as an instructor to the Academy. Iri—do you want to stay here?”

There was nothing particular to say about Seol Iri; frankly, making Dumpling-Ear a teacher was nonsense. What would he teach, what would he learn?

And leaving Seol Iri—basically a guest visiting a friend’s house—while that friend left home would be just as weird.

More than that, imagine how awkward Dumpling-Ear would be.

“No. I’ll go with you.”

“Mm. Don’t know how useful it’ll be, though.”

The Sect Master had said this Academy would be especially talked about because disciples of prestigious houses would be assigned as squad leaders.

Only—Seol Iri was ambiguous.

Ice Palace was famous for being famous; as the representative of the far-off martial lands, famous because they were “barbarian outsiders” who cut themselves off from the Central Plains; not exactly an attractive network.

In Qing’s view, as one of the Five Beauties of the martial world, she could stir men’s hearts.

But in practice? Flirtation isn’t pleasant at all.

Not a beauty ploy to begin with, and even if it were, it’s hardly enjoyable for the person herself.

“You sure you’re fine with it?”

“Yes. No problem. But—”

Iri turned her head.

Toward the ex-wildling, attitude-first version of Jin Jangmyeong—and the palpably ill-at-ease Jayeo.

Put nicely: a family gathering.

Put plainly—and closer to truth: a face-to-face between parties bound by a mongrel family tree.

“Jayeo. Come here. To your First Mother.”

“‘First’? Says who?”

“Me. I’m first.”

“I met Sister first, though?”

Qing let out a deep sigh.

What now—rank sorting? Childish.

In front of the kid—“Do you like Mom, or do you like Mom?” No—“Mom or Mom?” This was unbelievable conduct from alleged adults over twenty.

Granted, in her homeland that’s basically college-kid age—still babies.

“What do first and second even matter?”

“They matter.” “No, they don’t.”

“Wives and concubines—there’s only one child, Jayeo, so what does any of it mean? What matters is Jayeo’s heart. What are you going to do, rank yourselves and play war games? The most important thing is the mom she’s closest to.”

The difference between wife and concubine is about the child’s status; if there’s no child, the one with favor is king.

“Then—” “Jayeo, then—”

“Enough. Don’t even think about asking who she likes more. You’re not smooth enough for that; to a kid, that’s all ordeal. Come, daughter—here.”

Jayeo shifted into Qing’s lap.

Sure enough, she looped her arms around Qing’s neck and buried her face—clearly the face-to-face had been uncomfortable.

The exact opposite of Qing’s plan.

She’d meant to be the stern father who scolds while the moms comfort—the strict, solemn, serious dad, the grand king of geezers, a fearsome father.

And the moms were this immature?

“Mm. Maybe she needs a mom who’s a bit pillowy and soft? Hm—the best so far was Aunt.”

Come to think of it, no matter how she multiplied moms, all the faces said “not ready yet.”

The now-noticeably-grown-up Miss Moyong might be the likeliest to be a soothing mom.

At that, Seol Iri and Jin Jangmyeong realized at the same instant.

This was only the beginning!

They sensed, by instinct, that the mongrel family tree was not even half complete.

Think about it—wasn’t Qing the one who tossed off “let’s add a mom” like inviting someone out for a stroll?

Plainly she meant to assign the role to every woman.

And did Qing know only one or two women?

Jin Jangmyeong thought:

The training maniac isn’t that dangerous. Her eyes don’t feel impure—more like a big dog. The dangerous one is that physician.

Seol Iri pictured a hateful scene:

Dang Nana holding Jayeo, tilting her head at Iri, both wearing rotten smiles and sneering.

Their eyes met.

Same look, those two.

As if prearranged, they nodded in unison.

An alliance was forged.

Dang Nana might protest, but this is why humans have repeated, from ancestors to now, the wisdom of watching one’s daily conduct.

After that, peaceful days followed.

Granted, the Alliance’s request was to join as soon as possible.

The attached letter said they’d first screen the riff-raff by recommendations and paperwork, then hold a second-round exam.

Call it the big-firm document screening: the Academy’s eligibility was simply “those who revere righteousness and wish to pursue chivalry.”

So applications had flown in from all across the martial world, why not if yes, oh well if no—of course they needed to filter.

Those thus preliminarily screened would be tested; if possible, could Qing join early to help with the exam process? The letter phrased it as a “chance for blasphemously perceptive geniuses who see into the essence of a person” to “fully exert” themselves.

Qing had never done instructor work.

So joining early would also be a chance to learn pedagogy from seasoned instructors.

And she had no particular reason she couldn’t leave immediately.

With Master away, there wasn’t much to do at Divine Lady’s Gate.

It wouldn’t be bad to let Jayeo enjoy the flood of handshakes and hugs from disciples—she was explosively popular.

But Divine Lady’s Gate wasn’t going anywhere, and there would be plenty of time after the Academy ended—no need to force it now.

Unlike Qing, with her season-like superhuman stamina, Jayeo was still a tot.

She needed time to eat well and sleep deep—to drain the travel fatigue that had built up.

She barely took a few steps on her own, so what travel fatigue, you could say—but once you leave home, hardship piles on subtle fatigue, inevitably.

So: seven days.

Qing frittered away time at Divine Lady’s Gate—pure loafing, eating, and flopping.

Why seven?

That was what puzzled Jin Jangmyeong and Seol Iri when they heard they’d depart in seven days.

Come to think of it, Qing had a habit of measuring time in sevens. Why? Did she like the number seven?

Bundling seven days into a week—that was those long-nosed Westerners’ claim about their Creator working six days and resting one.

If the Central Plains folk had known, they’d have felt robbed.

Work six, rest one? Jackpot!

In the Central Plains, there’s no such thing—worked yesterday, work today, work tomorrow, and work the day after.

Our Pan’gu labored eighteen thousand years to hew out heaven and earth—so do we work eighteen thousand years and rest one day?

Anyway, seven days and nights passed.

“Great Ancestor, please take care!”

“Aunt-Master, travel well. And Jayeo—be careful.”

Divine Lady’s Gate disciples poured out in a send-off practically equal to full turnout, waving as they saw Qing off.

It was spring in full riot now.

An unusually blazing spring; it might alarm people into thinking summer would be insane this year, but for the spring blossoms, that blazing sunshine was nothing but welcome.