Chapter 961: Passing the Martial Alliance (1)

Time stretches endlessly when you’re stuck in a boring, uncomfortable seat.

Like—back in Qing’s hometown, the clock at work. You’d finally check it after what felt like forever, and it turned out only one quarter-hour had passed. Fifteen minutes.

But.

No matter how long the night is, dawn always comes.

And the same went for that endless evening—eventually, night arrived, and Qing was finally able to escape the uncomfortable time with her friend’s father, the stiff, distant face-to-face.

And so, that absurdly long day in a friend’s house—without the friend—faded into night...

******

A martial artist’s morning is early.

Of course, it wasn’t just martial artists. In this era, any traveler who intended to be on the road started early—because if you left too late, it was easy to end up sleeping on the roadside.

Lady Gyo knew that too, so she didn’t forcefully stop Qing’s party when they said they’d eat breakfast and leave.

But.

Who was Lady Gyo?

The scheming that had secured her the seat of mistress of the Peng Family hadn’t gone anywhere.

If she tried to hold them down by force right now, it wouldn’t magically make a runaway child come home. So she’d let them go today, and wait for the next chance.

But when was “the next chance”?

Some day the Heavenly Flower Sword would visit again—and would her son even be here then?

As if. You didn’t “win” anything by waiting like that.

“Once I’m done, I’ll have made the clothes as pretty as I possibly can with all my strength, so look forward to it, all right?”

“Ahaha, you really don’t have to go that far...”

“How could I not? I have to put my whole heart into every single stitch. When it’s finished, I’ll make Daesan send word. Come pick it up together.”

“Uh, then you could just send it with Daesan—”

“This girl. That won’t do. The one who made the clothes has to be the very first to see how well she made them—and how well they suit you, don’t you think?”

“Ah.”

Opportunities weren’t something you waited for.

You made them.

Why else would she have gone through the trouble of showing off the silk she’d painstakingly made, insisting on making clothes, holding fabric up, taking measurements, basting, and burning away half a day?

Later, she’d send her son to say the clothes were finished.

And then the two of them would come together.

Lady Gyo stared after Qing’s party as they walked away—more precisely, at Qing’s back.

Behind her, countless women spread out like a folding screen, somehow radiating a fierce air as they glared at the party the mistress herself had come out to see off.

It would’ve been even better if there hadn’t been face veils.

It would become known to the whole world that the Heavenly Flower Sword had visited the Peng Family—so it was a shame she couldn’t push it that far.

So then.

What should she do next?

As Lady Gyo watched Qing’s back, her eyes slowly cooled—cold as a ruthless strategist’s.

*****

Fifteen days later.

Qing crossed through a bustling street.

The strange thing was the density of martial artists—so high it felt unnatural. Two out of every three people she saw were martial world types with weapons at their waists.

Even in a lively city, it was rare to see the martial world running this thick.

What was going on?

Was there some event drawing them in?

No.

This was a neighborhood where martial artists were always underfoot.

Because this was the Martial Alliance’s front yard.

That’s right.

Qing was at the Martial Alliance—Kaifeng Prefecture in Henan Province.

*****

The former Jurchen great chieftain—now the Central Plain’s grand general—had claimed that the Blood Cult was joining hands with the Mongol barbarians to make a play for the Central Plain.

It was valuable intelligence, given by the Central Plain’s grand general to an imperial emissary.

Not to the Heavenly Flower Sword of the orthodox martial world—

But to Ximen Cheonhwa, the royal censor of the imperial court.

So, strictly speaking, turning around and feeding that information to the Martial Alliance wasn’t something she was “supposed” to do.

But I’m a martial artist.

And it’s a Blood Cult matter—there’s no way you can claim it has nothing to do with the martial world.

So I told the Moyong Great Family first and had them send carrier pigeons.

Using the fastest means available, the news was passed to the Martial Alliance.

But carrier pigeons aren’t invincible.

There was no shortage of things that hunted birds—hawks and eagles in the sky, foxes and wildcats on the ground, and even hunters with bows and starving beggars.

And it wasn’t rare for a carrier pigeon to wander off into the mountains.

No matter how well-trained it was, it was still a bird. Sometimes it simply forgot where home was.

That was why you didn’t send one pigeon.

You usually sent a flock—around ten.

And the conventional wisdom said that if you sent twenty, at least one would almost always arrive.

But even then, if your luck was bad, ten or twenty could still get wiped out.

So if the information was truly important, even after you sent pigeons, you had to confirm the message actually arrived.

Meaning—someone had to go in person.

Of course, the Moyong Great Family didn’t send ten. They sent twenty—no, they cut loose every carrier pigeon they had. Without a miracle, at least one had to arrive.

So there was no need to rush.

Still, just in case, it would be best to stop by the Martial Alliance and verify.

That was Moyong Seongik’s request.

That was why Qing came to the Martial Alliance.

And honestly, she was heading home anyway, so even without that, she would’ve stopped to pay her respects at least once.

And so—Henan, Kaifeng, the Martial Alliance.

A long line stretched out from the Martial Alliance’s main gate, running in three parallel columns down the broad road.

One line for carriages, one line for carts, and one line for people—because this was an era when the orthodox martial world was at its height, and the flow of people going in and out of the Martial Alliance was massive.

With the lines drawn out like that, Qing walked naturally toward the gate.

The way she ignored the idea of “lining up”—had Qing finally become a proper Central Plains native?

Of course not.

Qing was one of those extremely rare Central Plains people who actually knew and practiced the virtue of order and turns.

She wasn’t cutting in.

It was just that there was a separate entrance reserved for alliance members.

They said the authority of the gatekeeper was the authority of the owner.

At a place like the Martial Alliance, even the guards on main-gate duty stood tall with pride on their faces.

The guards narrowed their eyes as they spotted the party approaching the alliance-member entrance—

And then, at some point, their faces tightened with unmistakable tension, and one of them shouted at full volume.

“Isn’t that Instructor?! Have you been well?!”

“Ah. Cadet? No, you’re not a cadet anymore. You’re Guard Kang now. And you’re Guard Oh.”

“Please speak comfortably! Once an instructor, an instructor forever—we’re always grateful!”

“Come on, you don’t have to go that far. Back then you were cadets and I was the instructor, but now we’re the same Martial Alliance family. Still... you recognized me, huh?”

“How could we not recognize you?! One look and it’s obviously you!”

“You still show up in [N O V E L I G H T] my dreams!”

“Hm. Is it that bad?”

Qing tilted her head.

No matter what, her face was covered—how did they recognize her? ...Moonlit Night?

Well—when you’ve been ground down under a ghostlike instructor, that pressure brands itself into your soul whether you want it to or not.

And Qing’s dramatically... curvy silhouette was also not something men forgot easily, but anyway.

“I want to see the Alliance Leader. Tell them the Heavenly Flower Sword has something to report about Liaoning. And if anyone asks why, please tell them it’s urgent and I need to see him immediately.”

“Ah—there was already word. Instructor, please go straight to the Alliance Leader’s Hall.”

If arrangements were already made, it probably meant the carrier pigeons had arrived safely.

“Let’s see... Jun, it’s your first time at the Alliance, so this is a good chance to pay respects to the Alliance Leader. Miss Moyong should greet him too, right? And what about you, Miss Kim? Since you’re here, do you want to meet him once?”

“No. I have no intention of joining the Martial Alliance. No need.”

“Then rest in the guest hall for a bit. Oh, right—Guard Kang, are Guard Chang and Guard Chae inside too?”

“Yes! Today they’re on main-duty rotation, so the Squad Leader and Deputy Squad Leader should be at the Justice Division Training Grounds!”

“Mm. Then, Miss Kim, wait a moment. Seems like there are people I can introduce you to. They’re from the Four-Direction Dances side.”

“Mm.”

She sounded indifferent—like she didn’t particularly want to meet anyone—but she didn’t refuse either, which meant she was curious.

They dropped their luggage at the lodgings.

And then Qing headed, oddly naturally, to the Heavenless Pavilion. Someone might say that even though it was the Martial Alliance’s top VIP guest hall, she walked like she had the right to enter wherever she wanted—like it was privilege.

But Qing wasn’t thinking anything like that.

It was just the Half-Sword Twin-Blade Society’s base, so she went there—like how a college student from her hometown naturally wandered into their department lounge or club room.

After that, they went to the Alliance Leader’s Hall.

“Alliance Leader, have you been well? Jun, greet him—this is the Alliance Leader.”

“Hah. So you’re Jun? The little squirming baby from your first-birthday banquet is a proper man now. Let’s see... this year you’re eight—no, about ten? ...Ah, thirteen? Ahem. Good lord, time moves too fast. Ahem.”

Jo Hyeonryang coughed awkwardly.

He’d called him eight just from the look of him, then added two years because kids usually hated being called younger than they were... and he was thirteen?

Ahem. Did the Moyong Great Family starve their children?

“Good. You’re already sharp-eyed and handsome—so you’ll inherit the title of jade kirin in the future. And Sword Blossom, have you been well?”

“Yes, sir.”

After some light small talk—

“Good. The pigeons came in properly. Five of them, even—plenty. Still, just in case, let’s hear it again from your mouth. Is that all right?”

“Yes. This is what happened on the road when I was heading to Changbai Mountain—ah, you know Changbai Mountain, right? It’s also called Baekdu Mountain. I was going there and—well, anyway, on the way I ran into the Plunderer Demon. Have you heard of the Plunderer Demon?”

“There were rumors. They said there was a demonic master stealing martial arts. But why are you suddenly talking about the Plunderer Demon? That wasn’t in the letter.”

“Ah. The Plunderer Demon was the Sword Demon.”

“What?!”

“And he was a martial artist at the early Transcendent Realm, and—ah, I also ran into the Heart-Eating Demon. He came out riding this weird golden... pyramid palanquin, and—right, the Heart-Eating Demon was Transcendent Realm too. Those dirty bastards jumped me together—”

“What—two Transcendent Realm martial artists jumped you—no, wait, before that. The Sword Demon and the Heart-Eating Demon? Those two reached the Transcendent Realm?”

“Yes. I managed to drive them off, but the Heart-Eating Demon lost both eyes and became a cripple, so he probably won’t be much of a threat going forward.”

“‘Managed’ is doing a lot of work there. You’re skipping too much—what on earth...”

“Ah, there was a master who helped me. Kim Heojung—he’s from Joseon, and he was a Transcendent Realm master too. He scattered his internal power, so he’s not that level anymore, but anyway, when he fought with me he was still flying around like he was perfectly fine.”

“...?”

Jo Hyeonryang fell into confusion.

Because Qing’s story bag had always been the type to explode in random directions without warning.

Still, in summary—

She fought two Blood Cult unit-commander-level enemies, crippled one into total ruin, and afterward the Jurchen great chieftain revealed that Blood Cult scum had approached him to join hands, claiming the Mongols were already “on our side” and that they would soon make a play for the Central Plain.

The letter Jo Hyeonryang had received only contained the latter.

Because it came by carrier pigeon.

Paper in this era was heavy compared to Qing’s hometown, and carrier pigeons couldn’t carry much. And the message had been encrypted so that if it failed to deliver, others couldn’t read it.

On that narrow space, you could only fit a few characters at best.

But now—

What?

She beat two unit-commander-level Blood Cult enemies?

And crippled one so completely that, even before “martial artist,” he’d struggle to live as a human being?

Jo Hyeonryang’s eyes went wide.