Chapter 965: It’s Me, You Fuckers (1)

Qing’s purpose in visiting the Martial Alliance was to confirm that the carrier pigeons the Moyong Family had sent arrived safely—and if they hadn’t, to deliver the news by word of mouth.

And if she had nothing else to do, she’d swing by and see the faces of the Half-Sword Twin-Blade Society members who always hung around the Martial Alliance anyway. While she was at it, she could also pay her respects to the Alliance Leader.

Unfortunately, the Martial Alliance had received the pigeons, recognized how serious the situation was, and immediately sent everyone back in a lump—either to their sects or their families.

There might be a summons later, but for now, that was the measure they’d taken.

No wonder the Martial Alliance had so few “guests,” also known as the Young Adult Division of People With Nothing To Do.

*****

“Miss, please be careful. Even if my body is far away, my heart will always be with you......”

If Moyong Jun hadn’t been there, Moyong Juhee would’ve followed her ages ago, but the Priestess Order was a forbidden sanctuary for men, so Moyong Jun couldn’t enter. If he was that disappointed, he’d have to go looking for some “Priest-Men Order” or something. And “Priest-Men” sounded like the kind of place name that probably existed somewhere, because “Shinnam” was a common place name.

Moyong Juhee wasn’t immature enough to leave her little brother outside while she went to play at a friend’s house, so... yeah. They’d have to settle for “next time.”

So Moyong Juhee came out to see them off, clutched Qing’s hand tight, and blinked back tears with a pitiful look.

She looked genuinely, genuinely upset she couldn’t come along. Hm. Was it really that bad?

“Ah, Brother Heojung. Are you really going to live in seclusion like this? Can’t you just come out with us? Travel the rivers and lakes together. Please?”

“......Take care.”

“Hng. Still, we’ll see you again later, right? Once you get settled, you have to send a letter. Seclusion is seclusion, but you can still send letters. Then I can write back, too.”

“......If I have time.”

Surprisingly, Moyong Jun stuck close to Kim Heojung.

Probably because Moyong Juhee was glued to Qing’s side and wouldn’t peel off, so the only person left to talk to was Kim Heojung.

And even more surprisingly, Kim Heojung answered whatever he was asked and looked after him, to the point that if you didn’t know better, you’d think Moyong Jun was Kim Heojung’s little brother rather than Moyong Juhee’s.

Hm. Maybe there was some kind of kid-to-kid bond.

“Hoho, Heavenly Flower Sword. The reason you’re leaving in such haste... surely it’s because you fear the fame of this Sima Rang growing higher day by day, yes? However, the only rival worthy of this Sima Rang is you—so why should the opinions of ordinary fools matter? There’s no need for you to struggle so.”

So, basically: she was disappointed Qing wasn’t staying longer.

But this bottomless self-affirmation, seriously. Well, it was a lot better than self-loathing, but still.

“See you later, Chunbong.”

“W-Wh-What, Chu—Chunbong? This Sima Rang has never permitted such a form of address—”

“Alright, Kim. Time to go. Jun, take care too. And at the Martial Alliance, you can’t go snooping around and eavesdropping, okay?”

“Ah, yes!”

Qing turned lightly.

There was no reason to be sad.

They’d see each other again next time, and even if they didn’t—if she didn’t know when she’d see them again—it didn’t really matter.

If time apart made them awkward, they hadn’t been truly close in the first place. True friendship was the kind where you could meet again after ten, twenty years and warmth would still well up like a spring.

(As long as the first thing that bastard said after ten years wasn’t business, insurance, or investments.)

And if she really missed them, she could just go see them.

So she left the Martial Alliance, and now—

Home.

*****

At the beginning of the fifth month, Qing finally arrived in Hubei Province’s Xingshan County.

Honestly, once you made it as far as Xingshan County, you were basically there.

Because if you went just one hundred ri farther south, you’d reach Jagwi County—and right next to it stood Priestess Peak.

One hundred ri was nothing. Practically right in front of her.

In Qing’s homeland, when the army ran marching drills at the garrison gate, the standard “march” was exactly one hundred ri.

Even for modern people whose muscles had withered into pathetic softness, any sturdy young man could still carry a heavy load and walk one hundred ri in a single night.

An era that hadn’t even developed the most basic, foundational technology of civilization: electronic information and communication.

A primitive ancient age that couldn’t even lay a single undersea fiber-optic cable, or launch so much as one artificial satellite.

In this barbaric world, humans were monsters whose physical capabilities surpassed civilization itself.

One hundred ri?

If you walked fast, you could reach it in two shichen—basically the neighbor’s house.

The route from the Martial Alliance back to the Priestess Order was, in truth, easiest on the body if you simply went straight south and then took a Yangtze boat up from Wuhan.

But boats traveling upstream were painfully slow, so Qing preferred to cut across on foot, sleep one night in Fang County, eat an early breakfast, then depart.

It was also the town where she’d stop and eat lunch.

If she left Fang County after eating early, she’d arrive at Xingshan County around the time the sun was overhead. Then if she ate lunch and headed back, she could take a full bath at the Seol Family Trading House, eat dinner, and everything would line up perfectly.

So, as usual, she stopped by Fang County and ordered something light—about six dishes.

Lunch was supposed to be light, after all. Originally, “lunch” was called that because you just “dot” a single point into your heart and patch things over—so don’t eat too much. Keep it simple.

She was waiting for the food.

Then, suddenly, a voice slipped cleanly into her ear.

“......Heavenly Flower Sword......”

The three words—Heavenly Flower Sword—made Qing’s ears perk up.

What? Someone talking about her?

She kept her face blank and quietly leaned into the noise of the room.

“What the hell are you talking about? Essence-Siphoning Demon Witch? The Nosan Blood Massacre was those Blood Cult bastards. And Essence-Siphoning Demon Art doesn’t even exist.”

“Shh. Don’t talk so loud. Listen. The truth is, even before the Nosan Blood Massacre, Heavenly Flower Sword was already an Essence-Siphoning Demon Witch who’d mastered Essence-Siphoning Demon Art.”

“What kind of insane bullshit is that? If that were true, would the Martial Alliance have let it slide? Even the Grand Ancestor of Martial Learning—number one under heaven—acknowledged Heavenly Flower Sword. If she’d really learned Essence-Siphoning Demon Art, the Grand Ancestor would’ve seen through demonic arts with Shaolin’s martial arts. No way.”

“Then does it make sense that she reached Supreme Peak at twenty? Sure, a genius might gain enlightenment, but what about internal power? Where did that internal power come from?”

“She probably ate some miracle medicine. Or had some fortuitous encounter.”

“No. That’s not it. Heavenly Flower Sword was hiding her realm because of Essence-Siphoning Demon Art. Think about the Nosan Blood Massacre—no matter how much of a genius someone is, does it make sense to win a life-and-death duel against three Supreme Peaks? Back then she was already at the level of Demon Deviation, and that was because Essence-Siphoning Demon Art makes you stronger by stealing other people’s internal power.”

“But Heavenly Flower Sword is known as a righteous chivalrous hero. How could she......”

“They say Heavenly Flower Sword obtained the fortuitous encounter of Tathagata Divine Palm, then returned it, saying it rightfully belonged to Shaolin. But did she really? Or did Heavenly Flower Sword try to bargain for something?”

“Even so, it’s not like there’s any evidence.”

“They say they’ve been finding dried-out wooden corpses one after another in Qinghai, Liangguang, Yunnan, and places like that. Bodies drained dry—primal essence completely sucked out.”

“HUH!”

“They’re all remote border regions, and wouldn’t you know it—towns Heavenly Flower Sword passed through.”

“HUH!”

“And they say Heavenly Flower Sword slaughtered countless Blood Cultists using Essence-Siphoning Demon Art. Even that vicious demonic master, the Heart-Eating Demon.”

“H—HUH! Wait, no. Isn’t that a good thing? Even poison becomes medicine if you use it right. Even if it’s demonic arts, if she uses it to kill Blood Cult bastards—”

“That’s not the point. If she slaughtered countless Blood Cultists, it would’ve been announced to the whole world ages ago. So why did Heavenly Flower Sword and the Martial Alliance keep their mouths shut and hide it?”

“HUUUH!”

A huge incident! A shocking true story!

Heavenly Flower Sword’s true identity was an evil Essence-Siphoning Demon Witch!

As it happened, this baseless rumor had already begun to spread widely and simultaneously, starting from the regions south of the Yangtze.

It was the Blood Cult’s handiwork.

Of course, from the Blood Cult’s point of view, it wasn’t “handiwork.” It was fact. The spreading of truth.

The Heart-Eating Demon Emperor had been ruined by Essence-Siphoning Demon Art—half-crippled. Losing an eye and an arm was one thing, but more than half of that enormous internal power had vanished.

That was proof. Proof of Essence-Siphoning Demon Art.

But if they tried to spread “the truth” about Heavenly Flower Sword inside the righteous factions’ territory, it wouldn’t bite anyway.

And if that truth made it into the Martial Alliance, they’d obviously respond immediately by calling it a baseless rumor.

Which meant it could be suppressed before it spread too far and became [N O V E L I G H T] uncontrollable.

So they had no choice but to spread it simultaneously throughout regions outside the righteous factions’ territory.

By the time the Martial Alliance grasped the situation, Heavenly Flower Sword’s filthy “truth” would already be too widespread to rein in.

Rumors were easy to spread, and brutally hard to gather back up.

And it was hard to move people, but easy to disappoint them. Once people were disappointed, even if you told them it wasn’t true, they’d hear it as an excuse and refuse to listen.

Of course, Qing—who was eavesdropping—was dumbfounded.

What kind of dogshit is this?

Essence-Siphoning Demon Witch? First of all, the vibe of the phrase itself was filthy.

But she couldn’t exactly march over and say, What the fuck are you talking about, do you want to lose your life for talking behind my back? and flick them on the forehead with a Seomun Surin–class nuclear chestnut.

And on top of that—

Why were they claiming she’d harmed the Heart-Eating Demon?

No matter how fast a rumor traveled, it was still slower than a person moving.

In the first place, how could something that happened in the Liaodong borderlands be something they were gossiping about here?

That was when it happened.

CRASH!

A man suddenly bolted and slammed into the inn attendant carrying food. The attendant went flying, the tray somersaulted onto the gossiping man, tables flipped, and spilled liquor splashed across the floor.

And the most ridiculous part came next.

The man who had collided with him shouted at the top of his lungs—

“I ran into him purely because it’s my fault, but I don’t want to pay for damages, so I should run!”

And then he shot out of the inn like a dart.

A moment later, the inn attendant rushed out, stamping his feet as he spoke.

“Aigo, guest. What do we do? But just like that man said, it’s not my fault, so I can’t compensate you.”

“......? What?”

“What can I do, then? Will you go catch the man who ran away, or would you like to place a new order?”

“What—what kind of nonsense is that? Of course you have to compensate me.”

“But it’s not my fault.”

“Y-You—what—Owner! Get the owner out here! Owner! What is this—what kind of training is this?!”

Then from the kitchen, a massive, lumpy mountain of muscle appeared, scowling hard.

“What? Which bastard is cursing at my kid? I heard everything. If the one at fault ran, go catch him and argue with him. Why are you trying to crush my attendant’s spirit?”

“W-What. That’s even a thing to say—”

CRACK-CRACK!

The muscular giant snapped his neck left and right, bones popping loud.

The gossiping man shrank his neck straight down.

“T-That’s not what I meant......”

“What do you mean, it’s not? Guest, you want to get hit?”

“...What?”

“Ugh. Dirty. I’m not selling to you. Pay up and get out.”

“But the table flipped—”

“HEY! You ate food, so you pay.”

“I barely ate any—”

“What? Hey, go report him to the government office. Tell them there’s a guy here trying to dine-and-dash. I’ve got an older brother there—Chief Constable Kwon. He really hates dine-and-dashers.”

“I-I’ll pay!”

It was an extremely unreasonable outcome, but Qing didn’t bother stepping in.

Why would she help a guy who was talking shit about her?

He wasn’t being threatened at knifepoint. Losing some clothes, losing some food, and losing some money—if you go around slandering innocent people, consider it heaven’s punishment.

Besides, what bothered Qing a lot more was the fact that another attendant’s tray was headed straight toward her table.

“You’ve waited a long time. I’ll set down your order now. Here you go.”

“Hm? Carp? Why carp? I didn’t order carp. And I only ordered two bottles of liquor.”

“Ah, this is the food and liquor the guests who just left ordered. Since it came out after they left, we can’t exactly throw it away, so we thought we’d bring it to you for free. If you don’t want it, shall I clear it away?”

“No, I’ll eat it. Thank you.”

An extra dish, out of nowhere.

Qing’s sour mood instantly melted away.

*****

But why had that man suddenly rushed out, crashed into the attendant, loudly confessed his own fault, and immediately fled?

How did the inn attendant—who had fallen so hard he’d flipped tables—spring up without even acting hurt?

Why was the inn owner so unafraid of making a scene in front of all these guests, openly taking the attendant’s side and bullying the customer?

Of course, Qing didn’t know.

Qing didn’t know anything, period.

The man, the attendant, and the owner—Qing had no way of knowing that inside their house, in the best spot, they’d set up a Buddhist altar and enshrined a strange statue: voluptuous, dazzlingly seductive.

That morning and night, beneath a hanging cloth painted with the sun and moon, they offered devout rites.

Qing would probably never know.

And so—she ate her carp.