Chapter 974: It’s Me, You Fuckers (10)

A woman entered the room with a child in her arms.

The gray-haired old man sprang to his feet, his mouth splitting so wide his grin practically reached his ears—dazzlingly bright.

The way he hurried to take the child looked less like “receiving” and more like he was about to snatch her away. Then he hugged her tight to his chest, cooing, Aww, my pretty, bending his knees up and down as if rocking her—so delighted he’d completely forgotten propriety.

Watching him, a pleased smile bloomed at the woman’s lips......

“Alright. You’re done now, so go.”

“What—seriously? Now I’m just chopped liver?”

“It’s not like I’m going to sit here hugging a grown woman. And even if I did, what would that get me? Jayeo, isn’t that right? Grandpa’s right, isn’t he?”

“Dunno.......”

“See? Even the kid agrees.”

It was Choi Ri-ong, shamelessly pressing the point.

Qing was dumbfounded.

So now that Jayeo existed, I’m on the back burner? What am I, Jayeo’s launchpad—no, her cushion?

If someone who knew how Qing usually behaved saw this, they might clap and go, So this is what karma looks like! But anyway.

“Hey, old man—something wrong with your ears? Can you not hear? Huh. Guess you can’t outrun age.”

“Tsk, tsk. Look at the way you talk. Jayeo, you can’t take after your mother. Got it?”

“Mom? What mom......? Seol Mom?”

“......You can’t take after your father.”

A deep crease carved itself between Choi Ri-ong’s brows.

Mother or father—what a bizarre mess. He had no idea what she was even thinking.

Qing nodded.

Of course. The second he said “don’t take after your mom,” Seol Mom—meaning Gunyeong—popped out. Even if Jayeo wasn’t exactly brilliant, it seemed she wasn’t stupid, either.

And yeah—if she took after Gunyeong, that would be a disaster. Seriously. I told her to just grow up healthy, but you still need the bare minimum requirements to qualify as a person, don’t you?

For the record, Gunyeong was currently living at the Priestess Order Temple—squatting in an empty wooden cottage under Priestess Peak.

But that cottage is mine.

From the foundation to the roof tiles, it’s my house—built with my own hands, piece by piece—yet she just moved in naturally without paying a single coin in rent.

Morally, I should probably charge her something... but then again, shaking down money from a broke Gunyeong feels like a pretty rotten thing to do, so... yeah.

Of course, a house that no one lives in deteriorates fast. Somehow, a house that’s lived in gets “maintained” just by having people inside it—mysterious asset behavior.

Rather than leaving it empty until it turns into a ruin, it is better for anyone to live there, light the stove, and press the floors down now and then.

......But now that she’s got a house, hasn’t she basically settled into the Priestess Order Temple for good?

At this point, even if a thin, long, shimmering silver strand of hair shows up among the Priestess Order disciples, it feels like nobody questions it anymore.

Well. Thinking about it, her being alive at all is something. If Gunyeong is breathing properly, that alone is already impressive and admirable.

Other than that pretty face, she’s got nowhere to be useful—so whenever I think about Gunyeong, I end up tearing up......

“So. Why are you here?”

“Oh, come on. Do I need a reason to drop by? You kept singing for Jayeo, so I brought her.”

“Did I really sing for Jayeo?”

“Of course. This grandpa missed our kid so much I sang and sang. Everybody in the world, come look—my granddaughter’s the prettiest in all creation.”

“Kihihit.”

Oh, sure. He really did sit there singing. And he even had a decent, soulful tune going, too.

Qing snorted softly.

Well, it was a heartwarming scene, at least.

“So. Why are you here?”

“Oh, come on. Do I—”

“Do you only come if you have business? If it isn’t that, you’d only stop in once in a while on your way past. Have you ever come just to see a dying old man?”

“Uh.”

Qing’s answer got a little stuck.

Choi Ri-ong grumbled.

“Well, even so, you checking in beats other people’s brats who vanish without a word the second they leave home. So—why?”

“Uh... can you spread some rumors for me, quietly? Don’t go putting the merchant house in danger by mobilizing employees to stir up noise. Just scatter some handbills where nobody knows who wrote them. An unattributed rumor is enough.”

A handbill was—back in Qing’s hometown—what you’d call a flyer, or in industry jargon, propaganda leaflets.

Choi Ri-ong asked, his expression suddenly serious.

“There are ways to do that. What news?”

*****

Qing worried she was making the merchant house take risks over a needless request.

But the Seol Family Trading House staff were the exact opposite—They loved it. The Supreme One whispered it to us through starlight. The Supreme One has granted us a mission—let us offer up this one life and win. Information warriors of the sect, unite!

Since the Supreme One had “given the order personally,” the merchant house’s morale practically punched through the sky.

In reality, the top experts in the Central Plains had started work with the highest enthusiasm and momentum—so starting the very next day, a brand-new rumor with no clear source began circulating in Jagwi County.

“Did you hear? The Heavenly Flower Sword said she’ll come out personally and explain the seed-extraction demonic arts thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Four days from now, on the fifteenth—at the Hour of the Goat—she’ll come out in front of everyone.”

The Heavenly Flower Sword would publicly announce her stance on the bizarre rumors spreading through the streets.

The date: the fifteenth of this month. Around the Hour of the Goat—after lunch.

The place: the South Boulevard plaza in Jagwi County.

And right on time, carpenters set up on one side of the plaza and started hammering away—thunk, thunk—raising a platform.

So of course the attention of the martial artists who’d swarmed into Jagwi County chasing the seed-extraction demonic arts rumor had no choice but to lock onto the Heavenly Flower Sword’s announcement.

“Did you hear? The Heavenly Flower Sword—”

“Who hasn’t heard? Whatever. She’ll just deny it to the end, won’t she? You think she’ll admit she learned demonic arts?”

“Still, something’s about to happen. Haven’t you heard that Dotaecheon’s Mad Lion is here? He says he needs to hear the truth about the Minor Lord’s death.”

“Dotaecheon’s Minor Lord? You mean the Free-and-Easy Famous Sword? The Free-and-Easy Famous Sword is dead? Then why does he need to hear about it from the Heavenly Flower Sword?”

“They say the Heavenly °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Flower Sword killed him during the Nosan Blood Massacre. Burned him alive, even. There wasn’t even a proper body left, so until now they didn’t even know for sure whether he was dead.”

“Then how do they know now?”

“No idea. Maybe there was a witness. Either way—burning someone alive to death... isn’t that just horrifying? Maybe even back then, demonic nature had already seeped into her marrow because of demonic arts.”

“Hm.”

“If you really think about it, during the Atonement March after Nosan—when she held that Endless Life-and-Death Duel—wasn’t her hand brutal then, too? A lot of the people who knew the ones who died back then have gathered, too. If the Heavenly Flower Sword back then was a seed-extraction witch, then the duel itself wasn’t legitimate.”

“Why wouldn’t it be legitimate? The Heavenly Flower Sword didn’t use seed-extraction demonic arts in the duel.”

“Sure, that’s what people say, but who knows if those guys are even really acquaintances of the martial artists who died back then? If they’ve got a case and can prop up a justification, they’ll use it.”

“What a mess. Still—if she’s coming out to explain it herself, whether she’s actually a seed-extraction witch or not, her guts are something else.”

“For scum like us, we just watch from far away—and if a chance shows up, we pick up the scraps. If somebody blows things up big, that’s good for us.”

Like that, the attention of every martial artist who’d gathered piled onto the Heavenly Flower Sword’s “urgent announcement.”

A day passed. Then two. Then three. Then four.

At last—the fifteenth of May!

From early morning, the South Boulevard plaza was crowded, because martial artists in somewhat grimy condition took spots one by one, claiming space in advance.

And why were they so grimy?

Because Jagwi County was the absolute worst place to stay—there wasn’t a more miserable city in existence.

The inns had no rooms, so you had to sleep outside. If you tried to rent a private home, the owners demanded a fortune like they’d shoved their guts out through their bellies. And whether it was an inn, a restaurant, or some cheap slop shop, every meal they served tasted terrible—yet the prices were outrageous.

And the Jagwi County government office worked so hard that no matter where you looked, there was always at least one constable in sight, patrolling strictly—making it hard to throw a tantrum the way you wanted. Someone had even gotten hanged for causing trouble.

Where did that “government won’t interfere—murim handles murim” custom go? Instead you had constables and soldiers glaring with eyes wide open.

Thanks to miserable sleep and nasty food, the martial artists’ quality of life had cratered—so of course their appearances were grimy and their faces hollow and sunken.

By the time noon passed, the plaza that had been swelling since morning was so packed there wasn’t even room to set your foot down.

Then the sun finally tilted a little from its high point—right around the exact middle of the Hour of the Goat.

The martial artists’ gazes snapped to the platform.

To the empty platform.

Wasn’t it about the Hour of the Goat by now? Why isn’t she coming?

But it was an age when the Central Plains’ concept of time wasn’t that precise. Sundials existed only at major government offices, and the only “clock” a private person might have was an incense timer—burning incense to measure time.

If the sun’s about there, it’s about this time. If the moon is there, then it’s probably that time.

It rains and clouds cover the sky? Great. How the hell are we supposed to tell what time it is?

For that reason, the crowd could still wait generously. If she said she’d come around the Hour of the Goat, then from the start of the Hour of the Goat to the end of the Hour of the Goat, it didn’t count as late—meaning, in Qing’s hometown terms, anywhere from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. was acceptable.

So they kept staring holes into the empty platform......

Jin Jangmyeong extended his sword with a serious expression.

A faint sunset glow seeped out over the blade. The density wasn’t even, so it was a blotchy aura—but aura was aura.

But only for a moment.

Brilliant energy wrapped around it and surged up, and sunset-colored starlight that glittered with its own radiance coiled around the blade.

The technique of condensing aura into a blade—sword aura.

Sword aura from Jin Jangmyeong? Had he reached Harmonization in the meantime? That would be shocking news—and maybe that was why Jin Jangmyeong himself looked wide-eyed, genuinely stunned.

“Oh. That’s really sword aura.”

“Well? Don’t you get some kind of this is sword aura feeling? It’s the sword-aura experience.”

Jin Jangmyeong shook his head.

“Not at all. I can tell warm energy’s flowing, but that’s it.”

There’d been a hope that letting him “experience” sword aura might transmit the sensation of a higher realm—but it looked like transferring internal energy through the Northern Sea Divine Art couldn’t be used for teaching purposes.

“Can I swing it?”

“Of course. You’ve gotta taste sword aura so even a third-rate kid like us can go, Ohhh, sword aura really is good.”

“Tch.”

Qing gripped Jin Jangmyeong’s hand tightly and kept feeding him internal energy. Qing’s warm, hair-thin energy flowed into Jin Jangmyeong’s left hand, traveled up his arm, crossed to the other arm, reached his right hand—then gathered along the blade he was holding, forming aura.

When Jin Jangmyeong slashed, the blade sank straight into a huge tree trunk—smoothly.

Jin Jangmyeong’s eyes went huge.

“What the—? It just goes in, like—shhk, shhk! What is this? What is this? What’s happening right now?”

Qing stopped feeding energy, planted both arms against her side, thrust out her heavy chest, and pointed at the sky with full swagger.

“This is aura. If you’re jealous, you should train, right?”

“Not really jealous. It goes in too well, it’s kind of scary. But—can we be doing this here? Didn’t you say you were doing something today?”

“Oh, that?”

Qing grinned, mischievous.

“I heard a rumor’s going around that I’m supposed to ‘explain something’ today. Even though I’ve never once said that with my own mouth.”

*****

The sun hung half-caught on the western Musan Mountain Range, squeezing out its last strength in a final struggle—until the edge of that light dyed the entire sky a blazing red.

And beneath that sunset, a bitter atmosphere drifted through the plaza in Jagwi County.

Why isn’t she coming......

She said she’d come at the Hour of the Goat......

The sun set.