Chapter 949: I Want to Watch (3)

Qing’s eyes swept the area.

How could people of the Central Plain ever refuse a fight to watch? In an era starved for entertainment, they said Central Plain folk would even abandon a funeral mid-rite and come running the moment they heard the sound of trouble.

So now the crowd had swarmed in until the place was packed on all sides—was the Great Wall even anything special compared to this? A solid wall of human bodies had already formed around them.

Behind her face veil, Qing’s mouth twisted crookedly into what you’d call a rotten smile.

“So. It’s all a misunderstanding, and you don’t have any money on you right now?”

“If your money pouch is heavy, you can’t see the true face of the martial world. But returning home made me excited without realizing it, and... well. It’s awkward to keep lying here like this, but the sword point is sharp, so I don’t have much choice. It was absolutely a situation that could cause misunderstandings, so I also apologize to those sword-seller gentlemen over there.”

Once you start hating someone, everything they do becomes obnoxious.

The way he specifically said “sword-sellers” instead of “wanderers” didn’t feel like an apology at all. Maybe it was just Qing being biased—maybe.

“C-cough... then the bill...”

One of the sword-sellers mumbled with his words stuck in his mouth. Maybe because of the crowd, he couldn’t bring himself to say it loudly.

Even so, the way his voice trailed off made it obvious how heavy that bill was for a poor, bottom-tier martial artist.

Qing understood.

Once upon a time, she’d survived by cutting down villains and emptying their pouches just to keep herself fed.

When she was hungry, she’d eat grass. Inns? Hell with that—when night fell she’d quietly slip out, pull dead leaves over herself, and sleep.

And when she decided she needed to eat something meant for humans, she’d buy the cheapest dumpling bun and dip it in the free broth they gave you on the side.

She’d count the coins left in her money pouch over and over, calculating how many days she could last.

When you didn’t have money, you got pathetic.

And once you got pathetic, you learned just how small a person could feel.

And that was Qing, someone who could probably be thrown into a mountain and still live fine by constitution alone.

So how crucial was money to an ordinary person who would starve to death without it?

“Inn attendant! You heard that, right? Their bill is—mm, no. Actually, never mind.”

Qing changed course fast.

Her first thought had been to put the sword-sellers’ bill on the Azure Dragon Gate’s tab.

But looking at this bastard... she didn’t trust the Azure Dragon Gate either.

If their “heir” was the sort of person who scammed poor sword-sellers, would the group he belonged to really pay the inn without complaint just because the charge got slapped on them?

Sure, someone might say she couldn’t judge an entire sect based on one person, that one person’s behavior didn’t represent the whole.

But to someone who’d only experienced that “one person”?

That “one person” was the whole.

Qing didn’t know anything else about the Azure Dragon Gate. So the only Azure Dragon Gate disciple she’d met—Pyeong Goun—had no choice but to represent all of it in her mind.

“No. I’ll pay the sword-sellers’ bill for now. And on top of that, I’m collecting compensation for the dishes you ruined and my clothes. You’re not going to tell me you can’t pay, right?”

“Of course I must compensate you. If you withdraw the sword, I’ll go straight to my sect, gather the money, and return.”

“What are you talking about? How am I supposed to trust you and just let you go? We’re going together and getting it right away.”

A faint stiffness crept into Pyeong Goun’s gentle, friendly-looking face.

Of course it did.

Sending someone home to “bring the money” and letting them go...

was a completely different action from walking them home yourself and collecting.

In Qing’s hometown terms, this was like calling their family directly and saying, This bastard didn’t pay his debt, right to their faces.

Not just crushing someone’s dignity—dragging the truth in front of the people they most wanted to hide it from, precisely because they were close.

And that was in Qing’s hometown.

This place was the ancient Central Plain. These people lived and died by face.

“Miss... I am a direct disciple of the Azure Dragon Gate, and our sect leader is my father.”

Pyeong Goun brought up his position again.

It was a roundabout way of saying he’d give the money on the honor of his sect and his master.

Because saying that out loud over a petty dispute like this would shame himself, shame his sect, and shame his father.

But Qing didn’t know that subtext.

More accurately, she had to act like she didn’t.

I don’t know those things. I’m clueless and pure-minded.

Which meant—

Right. Copy Heema.

“I already heard that. So? What about it? Money problems should be solved immediately. Otherwise people get hurt feelings and relationships get strained, you know?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“No, why? You said you’d go home and get money—if I go with you, you don’t have to come all the way back to the inn again. Convenient, right? I get the money and the matter is finished right away, so that’s good for me. And you save a whole extra trip, because otherwise you’d have to come back to pay, then go home again. Wow, this is totally—killing two birds with one stone, everyone wins, money for money, no wait, that last one’s weird—what was it? Oh. Eat the pheasant and the egg too.”

Even she had to admit it: a perfect Heema impression.

“Come on. Get up. If you try anything funny, we’ll tie you up and carry you there. I don’t know much, but you seem like a pretty decent master? In my town, even that Mister Seol down the street said I’m the kind of talent you can count on one hand in the whole world.”

A smooth continuation from the Heema act into Qing hiding her identity.

And technically, it wasn’t a lie.

There really was an Uncle Seol living down the street, and it really was true that if you lined up the whole world, his name wouldn’t be that far off from the list.

“A town? What kind of backwater—”

“Like you’d know even if I told you. Now stop lying there and get up. You have to give me my money.”

Next step: lightly scrape him.

Act easy, then needle him until he crosses the line.

And then—

Then she’d unveil it.

I’m the Heavenly Flower Sword, and I’ve also got the Moyong Family’s only son and daughter right here, you worthless nobody. What kind of unheard-of trash uses ‘sect leader’s son’ to puff his chest?

Pyeong Goun’s evil-karmic tally was ninety-three—barely clinging to the outer edge of “human.”

And this situation was shockingly petty and pathetic, not an unforgivable crime against heaven.

So pettiness for pettiness.

And once word spread that he’d flipped the table of the Heavenly Flower Sword and the Moyong Family’s direct line, yet still couldn’t apologize properly and only made things worse—

Yeah. His sect would chew him to pieces.

“I’m offering to go with you for your own sake, and you’re insisting on making it inconvenient. Don’t tell me you’re actually trying to stiff us?”

“...What kind of—”

Pyeong Goun muttered like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

And Moyong Juhee’s frost-cold voice followed instantly.

“What? ‘What kind of—’? Miss, should I kill him?”

“Come on. If we kill him we can’t get the money. Hey, Young Master—do you have a bounty on your head or something? If the bounty’s bigger than what you owe, we can just chop your head off and take it to the government office.”

“How could there be such a thing! And even if there were, why would I say it here!”

“So what, there isn’t? Then why are you yelling? Are you feeling guilty about something?”

“I’m not.”

GRIT.

Pyeong Goun ground his teeth.

He opened his mouth again with another “I’m not,” but the sword tip on his throat clearly scared him, because all he did was clench and grind.

“Alright. Get up. Kids, let’s go collect money. I just bought new clothes and look at this mess. So, Young Master—since you ruined the clothes I’ve cherished and treasured for a very long time, you need to pay double for that.”

“...Didn’t you just say you bought new clothes? How can brand-new clothes be something you’ve treasured for a long time?”

“Because I loved them so much they felt like something I’d dreamed about forever?”

CRUNCH, CRACKLE.

*****

They marched with Pyeong Goun in front, heading for the Azure Dragon Gate, and Qing kept lightly scraping him the whole way.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t get much reaction out of him.

He kept grinding his teeth, but he simply clamped his mouth shut.

This bastard—does he have decent self-control?

Or is his mask just thick?

A con man wouldn’t walk around with I’m a con man written on his face. His features looked so kindly honest that Qing could understand why the sword-sellers had gotten completely taken in.

The spectators, though, had the time of their lives.

Even Qing’s group composition was inherently eye-catching.

One tall woman, and three smaller companions.

Two of the smaller ones had their faces hidden, but one carried a girl’s bearing and the other a boy’s.

And the smallest was a boy whose face was still openly young—so the two with veils naturally looked young as well.

Put it together and it looked exactly like a big sister leading her siblings—

or a mother leading her children.

And now that this group had trouble with the sect leader’s son of the Azure Dragon Gate... how could anyone not follow?

So Pyeong Goun walked in front, Qing and the kids pressed close behind, and then—whoosh—the spectators flooded in.

“What happened?”

“I’m telling you, what’s going on is—”

“What do you mean what happened—this is what happened—”

The crowd grew with each retelling.

By the end, a river of people filled the wide main road of prosperous Dangsan County, flowing behind them.

Of course, Qing had expected this.

Central Plain people would risk life and limb just to peek at a fight, hovering at the edge of danger with their necks craned out.

And if you were going to shame someone—

the more witnesses, the farther that shame would spread.

*****

From Pyeong Goun’s perspective, the road home must have felt unbearably long.

Or maybe the opposite.

If he was praying he’d never arrive, maybe the road felt brutally short.

Either way, with him grinding his teeth like that, Qing couldn’t read what was going on inside.

But for the Azure Dragon Gate, this could only look like a sudden emergency.

Because from far away, a massive crowd was approaching, filling the road in front of the sect grounds.

A disciple on guard sprinted to report it, and—

the one leading them was their Young Master, wearing the face of a man attending his own execution.

So.

After walking roughly half a shichen and reaching the Azure Dragon Gate estate gate, a group of disciples had already formed a line in front of the signboard, blocking the entrance.

Pyeong Goun’s expression soured by the second.

His pace slowed and slowed, betraying his mood.

And Qing, from behind, kept chirping and needling him.

“What is it, Young Master? Already tired? A martial artist gets tired after walking half a shichen—what good are you? Well, you are weak. I just casually reached out, and you got grabbed so easily it startled me. I thought I was late, but you’re so slow.”

GRIT.

“Oh, did that hurt your feelings? Sorry. I didn’t mean to. No bad intentions. I’m just stating facts, but sometimes facts can be painful.”

GRRRT.

“And in Romance of the Three Kingdoms, there’s that famous saying, right? Frustration makes the man. The frustration of your lacking skill—your painfully slow lightness skill—is going to be the fertilizer that helps you grow. Oh! Then you should thank me. Hurry up and thank me.”

GRRRT—GRRRT!

“Oof, you’re going to grind your teeth down. What are you going to do when you’re old? Chewing is one of life’s five blessings, they say. Your later years won’t be comfortable. You’re gonna live long and miserable.”

At this point, the fact that he wasn’t drawing his sword and lunging was basically a miracle.

But he kept his mouth tightly shut.

Annoying. Hiding power or not, it didn’t look like she was going to get a dramatic scene out of him anymore.

And then they finally reached the Azure Dragon Gate’s main entrance.

Disciples wearing swords bowed their heads toward Pyeong Goun, and his claim—sect leader’s son—became a confirmed fact right in front of everyone.

Not that Qing really doubted it anymore. Even back at the inn, plenty of spectators had recognized him and started whispering.

With the Azure Dragon Gate disciples lined up before them, Qing patted Pyeong Goun’s shoulder twice.

“Alright, Young Master. Go bring out my money.”

“......”

“If you’re thinking of stiffing me, you see all those people behind us, right? If you don’t bring it out, then before tomorrow’s sun rises, the whole city will be flooded with the story that you’re a pathetic piece of trash who tried to steal pocket change while using your sect as backup to run.”

“......”

GRRRT.

With one last grinding scrape, Pyeong Goun started walking toward the main gate.

Then he suddenly snapped at the innocent disciples.

“What are you all doing!? Is this a show!? Everyone except the guards—inside!”

Oh. He spoke.

I was starting to think he’d lost his voice.

In that moment, Qing’s heart softened a little.

First—because seeing him finally explode meant her half-shichen of constant needling had paid off. He really was pissed. That was satisfying.

But more than that—

The Azure Dragon Gate disciples’ evil-karmic tallies were surprisingly clean.

What the hell. Judging by this bastard’s behavior, Qing had expected some den of villains.

Turns out—

the only real bastard was him.

So this was probably enough.

If he brought out the money, Qing would visit properly, meet the sect leader, and say:

There was an incident, but I don’t harbor ill will. Still, you should pay more attention to your child’s character education.

As a sign of goodwill, she’d even stay the night at the Azure Dragon Gate.

That was how she intended to finish this petty revenge by paying pettiness back with pettiness—

So she waited.

...And waited.

What is this? Why would it take so long just to bring out money?

Or is he doing this on purpose because I embarrassed him? Making me wait?

But—

No matter how much time passed, her money didn’t come.

And eventually, Qing’s expression completely rotted.

No.

This bastard—did he really run?