Chapter 792: Diancang Expedition (3)

“This Sima,” I’m merely stating the facts, you see? The post of Royal Censor of the Twelve Circuits is not an office to be taken lightly.”

The Royal Censor of the Twelve Circuits was the government’s final conscience—and the minimum safety device for ruling the Central Plains.

That was because of the Central Plains government’s structure: a governance structure so uniquely, unbelievably “Middle Kingdom” in its design.

Basically, once you took an official post in the Central Plains, your base pay was tiny.

Unless you lived in austerity (like a beggar), the salary wasn’t enough to maintain even the minimum “dignity” that the post demanded—never mind supporting yourself and your family.

So where did the rest come from?

You had to take care of it yourself.

But how many officials in the Central Plains lived in austerity (like beggars)?

They all lived loud and proud in whale-back mansions, so all that power and splendor came from wealth they “took care of” themselves.

The problem, of course, was that this was illegal.

Covering for local strongmen, extorting the share meant for the common people, making the rich even richer while the poor stayed poor and kept suffering injustice—

What country on earth would ever write that into its national law?

Meaning: there wasn’t a single official you couldn’t “shake down” and get crimes out of.

So saying there wasn’t a single decent human being among Central Plains officials wasn’t exactly wrong, but anyway.

And in the Central Plains, those charges were the kind you could hang on ears or hang on noses—whatever you wanted them to be.

If the imperial house said so, they became treason.

So the imperial house could kill almost any official the moment it felt like it.

Not just kill the person—because it was treason, they could butcher the entire clan, all the way to the extermination of nine degrees of kin.

That was how the Middle Kingdom, despite being this vast stretch of land, could maintain a powerful centralized structure.

Astonishingly, this “Middle Kingdom-style” method—

Induce and tolerate corruption in all officials, then use it as leverage, so that whenever the Middle Kingdom’s supreme ruler wanted, he could purge them with extreme punishment like execution—

Because of this system, the imperial house didn’t need to bother “catching” corruption.

If anything, it was closer to encouraging it while pretending not to notice.

The more corrupt the officials became, the stronger the ruler’s authority and power grew—and sure, the common people would become more and more wronged and miserable, but what were they going to do about it?

This was the spirit of the Middle Kingdom itself.

Amazingly, it was also an efficient, traditional governance system that the Middle Kingdom people in Qing’s hometown had inherited, preserved, and upheld as “the spirit of the Middle Kingdom.”

So the Royal Censor was the last conscience of that governance system—and the minimum safety device to prevent popular uprisings and the like.

Wandering the Central Plains, if there was someone who wasn’t a purge target but was still causing too much harm, the Royal Censor went and delivered a warning:

“You crossed the line. Keep it reasonable. If you keep this up, next time I’ll serve up the execution blade.”

Mm. Hearing it laid out like that, this country really is a complete mess.

But in the Central Plains, because of the most cruel curse in the world left behind by the First Emperor of Qin—this horrifying legacy called “one Middle Kingdom”—if it ever split, a catastrophe would happen that would never happen again.

It was an absurd belief: be generous and let things slide for barbarians, but this Central Plains land must be unified as one.

The Son of Heaven was a living sacrifice meant to block that curse.

So the Central Plains belief that “the Son of Heaven bestows governance” wasn’t entirely wrong.

The Son of Heaven himself didn’t look happy, either.

“So even for this Sima, it’s difficult. What exactly was the imperial house’s intent? Still, looking at precedent... the first possibility is most likely: the moment the Heavenly Flower Sword swings that censure authority, it becomes justification to strike the martial world.”

“Mm.”

But Qing’s thoughts were a little different.

After hearing Chunbong’s explanation, she felt like she understood the intent—rather than understanding it less.

Back when the Martial Celestial grabbed the Son of Heaven by the collar and shook him, hadn’t the Son of Heaven said that?

Then you be the Son of Heaven.

Maybe the current Son of Heaven was doing the same thing.

Qing had argued on behalf of the Martial Alliance:

The country is in chaos, so the chivalrous heroes of the orthodox factions are contributing to peace in the Central Plains.

If the officials had governed the people properly, would the Martial Alliance have gotten popular as “heroes”?

The orthodox factions are walking the righteous path in the government’s place, so there’s no need to go out of your way to provoke them—so please, let it go.

So the Son of Heaven answered:

Fine. I’ll give you the authority of Royal Censor of the Twelve Circuits—so go ahead. Try catching those officials yourself.

The only thing Qing couldn’t read was his true intent.

Was it the Son of Heaven’s icy sneer?

If that were possible, I would have done it. I can’t, so this is what it is.

Or: I’m just here to keep the Central Plains tied together—what I called is a position I “have to survive” in. That alone is too much. I’m not the omnipotent ruler you’re imagining.

If you try it yourself, you’ll know—so stop flapping your mouth and go enforce discipline on the officials yourself.

Or maybe it was an unutterable affection toward Princess Yeonsul.

If you think the country looks like that, then stop suffering for no reason—here, I’ll give you power, so swing it as much as you want.

The Son of Heaven Qing saw felt closer to the first.

But according to Princess Haryeon, the second couldn’t be dismissed either.

“Mm. I don’t know.”

If you don’t know, isn’t the best choice not doing it?

Honestly, yeah, I’m like that too—if I can protect my own safety, and the safety of the people I care about, that’s enough.

How the Central Plains people live isn’t my business anyway.

Still, if the government does something rotten, then I’ve gained the legal right to smash things up.

If you put it that way, I received a pretty big gift.

“Ah, and by the way—will you prepare the congratulatory address for the graduation ceremony?”

“Huh? Me? What right do I have...?”

Qing scratched at her head.

She showed up calling herself an instructor—what had she actually done?

She’d spent the entire academic schedule stepping out for personal business and only just returned.

“My, Heavenly Flower Sword. Even the praise of special beings like us—geniuses so astonishing you can’t even believe we’re made of the same cloth as ordinary humans—becomes, in and of itself, an achievement those inferior commoners will remember for life. It becomes the strength that lets those inferior people live with their chests out for the rest of their days.”

“You always have that ‘beings like us’ phrasing ready, don’t you.”

“And objectively, the Sword Hall’s achievements are the most outstanding—so traditionally, the congratulatory address at term’s end is given by the instructor of that hall.”

“That’s not because I did well. It’s because I was gone for so long, so the Hall Cadets worked hard.”

“Heh. My, Heavenly Flower Sword. Humility is a virtue for commoners, but for superior people like us, it’s more like a fierce poison that provokes their jealousy and inferiority! The Three-Path Sword Art you created—why, even the Alliance’s strategists were astonished by that unprecedented training sword technique, and yet it is also an excellent practical sword art, and it even possesses depth. That alone is more than enough qualification for a congratulatory address—no, to the point that from now on, the congratulatory address seat of the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy ought to belong to the eternal, undying Heavenly Flower Sword!”

He was outright slathering gold leaf on her face, so even Qing’s face went hot—it was hard to just swallow it.

“I didn’t make the sword art alone, and my sword friend and Miss Moyong helped too—”

“My, a leader gathers subordinates, then uses them with her fingertips to produce results. That is us—our destiny as natural-born leaders, as geniuses born to lead inferior people. So no matter who looks at it, the Three-Path Sword Art is the sword art the Heavenly Flower Sword created—there is no reason to bother remembering the names of inferior commoners like that.”

If Sima Chunbong’s nature weren’t kind enough to see helping others as his mission ordained by heaven—if he weren’t like that—wouldn’t he have walked the path of some mustached dictator who hadn’t even been born into this world yet?

Qing answered with an awkward expression.

“Mm. That’s true. If anything, shouldn’t they be grateful I gave them the chance to help make the Three-Path Sword Art?”

“Heh. At last, the Heavenly Flower Sword understands your own position, even if only a little. Then will you prepare the congratulatory address?”

“No. You do it, Sima. I was gone too long, so it feels... off.”

No matter what, a congratulatory address felt like too much.

At that, Sima Chunbong’s face turned to shock.

“Me, Sima? Well... as the one who oversaw the academy’s overall operation, I certainly have the qualifications—no, you could say there is no suitable person besides Sima. Indeed, this could be called Sima’s duty...”

*****

Because the Hall Cadets’ level had clearly risen, there wasn’t much left for Qing to poke at and correct the way she used to.

With the end of the academic schedule—term’s end, in professional terms—right ahead, Qing’s feelings grew complicated.

That damned imperial palace. I shouldn’t have gone.

Still... I did accomplish the feat of being able to say it clearly now: I am not Yeonsul.

And she also learned that the Forbidden City wasn’t a pack of devils, exactly—

While at the same time, it was a horrifying ruling class that never even had the common people in their eyes from the start.

She’d also gained a pile of leads on the Heavenly-Maiden Temple—and she’d even learned a killer technique of the perfumed-oil massage method.

But even so, the reason it still felt like she’d wasted time was simple:

The one who went to the imperial palace wasn’t Seomun Cheong, the martial-world person.

She’d gone as the Young Hero Seomun Cheong, but inside the palace she’d remained Princess Yeonsul the whole time.

That was why Beom Yakgong’s betrayal-that-wasn’t-quite-betrayal had left her stunned but not particularly furious or angry.

Because I’m not Yeonsul.

Some old man just acted friendly and then suddenly drew a sword, that’s all.

The part Qing truly felt unsettled about was that.

Wasting time, sure—honestly, how many times had she already killed time by lounging around and playing?

It wasn’t that.

It was Beom Yakgong.

More precisely, it wasn’t Beom Yakgong himself—it was the experience of how shabby and powerless she was as an individual in front of a Manifest Realm martial artist.

She knew Manifest Realm monsters were monsters, but—

That even I—someone beyond even the Transcendent Realm—could be helplessly toyed with like that...

According to what she’d heard, Beom Yakgong’s martial art was the Imperial Taiji Divine Art—in other words, the Wudang Sect divine art, the Taiji Wisdom Sword.

It specialized in receiving and returning, receiving and countering, and even its footwork was a defensive martial art meant to guard the body while shifting left and right to meet an enemy.

It wasn’t a martial art that charged in and struck first, cutting the enemy down.

If it had been that aggressive... wouldn’t it have been truly dangerous?

She might have been at the point of saying, Well, it’s lucky my neck didn’t get cut, even if I lost an arm or two.

But because it was a defensive martial art, Qing couldn’t even attempt a counterattack—she had no choice but to keep fleeing.

And that was why, even under the attacks of countless imperial palace fighters, she’d endured for so long—and even displayed a kind of divine might that shattered and broke things apart.

If Beom Yakgong had trained a more offensive martial art, maybe she could have tried trading blades.

But setting aside the issue of defense versus offense—

What do I do if I meet a Manifest Realm martial artist again?

She hadn’t even known that old man was Manifest Realm.

There was no way to know how many more Manifest Realm monsters were out there, hiding their identities.

Ximen Surin had warned her, but experiencing it firsthand made it newly horrifying.

But to reach Manifest Realm myself... I can’t even imagine it yet.

So I need to build power right now.

Power. I need power!

Overwhelming power! Massive power!

First, there was the method of completing the Lonely-Without-Equal Sword.

Didn’t even Beom Yakgong flinch and tense up in fear before the might of that sword framework?

And that had been nothing more than a cheap imitation—just a thrown-sword fake No-Poison, No True Man.

So first, she needed to gather the remaining forms quickly.

Had the Martial Celestial recommended the Diancang Sect next?

If she treated it like she was just going somewhere far while her master wasn’t around, then next would be the Diancang Sect—Yunnan Province.

And then... mm.

Qing opened her quest window.

It was a quest window she only opened when it pleased her.

Ultimate Martial Path, Northern Abyss Divine Art.

Collect all Ten Great Demonic Arts Under Heaven and learn the Muscle-Tendon Changing and Marrow-Washing Classic.

Blinding-Radiance Seize-and-Slaying Steel Aura. One-Hundred-Eight Asura Sword. Soul-Seizing Art. Minor Water Arts. Self-Rotating Demon Art. Turning-Wheel Demon Tribulation. Black-Slaying Demon Palm.

She’d already learned seven out of the Ten Great Demonic Arts Under Heaven.

That meant three remained.

Half-God Long-Tribulation Saber, Upward-Heaven Slaughter, Heaven-Shattering Reverse-Blood Hand-Heart Piercing Formula.

Even if she exchanged with virtuous merit, getting all three would be impossible.

The exchange window demanded six thousand virtuous merit, and the next exchange cost might jump by two thousand to eight thousand—or by three thousand to nine thousand—or by four thousand to ten thousand.

Still, it seemed like she could exchange for two.

But even so, she couldn’t just learn two first through virtuous-merit exchange.

If she later obtained the manuals for any of the demonic arts she’d already learned, she’d be throwing away her chance to complete the quest immediately.

So the Ten Great Demonic Arts Under Heaven weren’t something she could treat as, If I get them, great; if not, whatever.

From now on... shouldn’t she be actively hunting them down?