Chapter 748: Bound for Beijing (1)

Another peaceful day at Righteous-Proper Martial Academy.

Sword Hall was still rampaging.

Hand-to-Hand Hall? Well, fist fighters were supposed to work harder than everyone else—if you weren’t using weapons, you at least had to make up for it in effort.

And over in Blade Hall, the wailing of the damned echoed.

Peng Chor-yeo, held responsible for their crushing defeat in the King of All Weapons Tournament, had unleashed a hellish training regimen—a guided tour of a pseudo-hell.

– BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, FORTY! Aaaaah...!

– Who the hell yelled the last count? And what’s with that reaction, huh? Isn’t that your fellow cadet? Instead of cheering and consoling him, you’re blaming him? Still not thinking straight, are you? Back to the start. Legs up!

This was Blade Hall, where Qing had unleashed on the Central Plains the most toxic thing she possessed: the training methods of the world’s most elite ranger unit.

All you heard was, Just kill me now, echoing like funeral keening.

That was the price for daring to turn the sacred Academy, cradle of precious learning, into a dating agency.

And now, the second outing.

Since most of the Sword Hall cadets had voluntarily given up their outing passes, it was a little awkward for their instructor to swan off on a trip alone.

But Qing had a very good reason to go.

She had to go catch Dan Joya, the squad leader of the Three Idiots—the one who claimed to be the brains of Soul-Seizing Demon King’s Eating-Hearts Unit, and his closest henchman.

Only, when she arrived early at the thatched house using her ridiculous lightness skill, the place was silent and empty.

Qing rapped on the shack and felt around.

These were the same guys who’d dug out a base underground during the Martial Tournament, and who’d carved out stone slabs at Nosan. Maybe they just liked eating dirt and digging holes.

And sure enough.

A faint vibration from an odd spot in the floor told her there was empty space below.

She was, after all, a human-trascending bundle of sharp senses, and a reserve intelligence operative who’d been trained in how to search for passageways and hidden caches.

Qing’s fingers traced lightly along the floor until she felt a tiny, unnatural step in the surface. She slid a fingernail into the gap.

Inside was a box and a letter.

“Since Demon Marquis is on the move, she may be carrying out some operation. Our own objective has been largely achieved, and there is a chance we may be caught up in an operation personally led by Demon Marquis, so I will go see my lord and consult him. Instead...”

Oh, you little shit. You bailed.

She was a step late.

The reason they’d cleared out was apparently Minor Water Witch, which only hardened her resolve. That vicious Blood Cult witch. She would never forgive her.

And written like this, the letter wasn’t even proper evidence.

“Demon Marquis?” That was obviously Minor Water Marquis.

You Blood Cult bastard. Got you. Just wait ‘til I haul you in—

Not that it mattered. If they cried, Wait, this is a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding. That’s Demon Marquis Jang, a personal hero of mine, nothing more, it would all be over.

Mm. Maybe she should have stayed and worked with her hardworking cadets instead of going out...

But the kids would be coming down the mountain eventually, and Jin Jangmyeong and Jayeo would probably get there by evening.

Friends were one thing, but as for Jangmyeong and Jayeo, she had a responsibility to take care of them.

Truly, she had no choice.

In her heart she almost wanted to march straight back. Ah, what a shame, to be forced to eat good food and drink and let these people annoy her...

Qing lifted lightly off the floor and disappeared, face wreathed in a broad, blooming grin.

The shabby thatched cottage, already humble, now held nothing but the equally shabby interior that matched its exterior.

Time passed, and the small room—walled in on all sides—deepened in shadow.

Who knew how long went by like that.

Precisely the difference between the time it took one of the greatest lightness-skill masters in the Central Plains to come down a mountain, and the time it took an ordinary second-rate martial artist to stroll down at a leisurely pace.

At last the door creaked open and new figures appeared.

Three young men, faces taut with tension.

Despite that, once they were inside, they walked straight toward the hidden spot in the floor as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The secret floor opened again, and the three of them found the box and the letter on top of it.

They huddled together and read the letter.

“Since Demon Marquis... (omitted) ...I will go see my lord and consult him. Instead, I have prepared money for you. Use it to provide liquor, food, and women, and hand out gifts so you can win favor and goodwill.”

At that, Qing would later say, the faces of the Blood Cult’s Three Idiots lit up.

Naturally.

Today was the day they were supposed to see their terrifying superior again.

But he’d gone out, and instead left them money with a note saying, Go have some good food with your friends.

Who in the world wouldn’t be happy about that?

The Three Idiots, suddenly fired up, flung the box open.

If it was enough money to “provide liquor, food, and women, and hand out gifts,” it had to be a substantial amount.

Liquor! Food! Women!

The Three Idiots’ eyes shone so brightly you’d think they’d never shown such intelligence in their lives.

They opened the box. Inside—

Three copper coins.

“Mm?” “Huh?” “What the...?”

They rubbed their eyes.

A quick glance said three copper coins.

They held a lamp over it—three copper coins.

Just in case, they shook the box, turned it upside down, and knocked it around, but three copper coins were all that fell out.

What the hell did this mean?

Three coppers bought you three hollow steamed buns at a cheap diner, and, by the unwritten code of the rivers and lakes, if you bought three buns they gave you one watery soup for free.

Was this his way of saying, Go eat one hollow bun each, and drink some soup so you don’t choke?

If the Three Idiots had even a bit more education, they might have recalled the tale of Shun Yu.

Ah, our squad leader is saying we’re only worth three coppers—one coin per man!

They might have made a truly tragic choice.

But what would three bumpkins from some remote village know?

Their faces flushed red, then pale, then red again.

They didn’t understand the deeper meaning, but they understood they were furious.

They stood there scowling, breathing hard.

The correct answer, of course, was: Burglar (reserve intelligence operative) has been here.

“Demon Marquis? Why would that old hag go there?”

Soul-Seizing Demon King—known inside the Blood Cult as Soul-Seizing Demon Emperor—could only stare.

Why was that crazy old monster nosing around Henan?

As far as he knew, she was plotting her great work in Heukryong River, out on the far frontier of the continent.

“You have no knowledge of it?”

“Hmph. I do not. She’s a woman whose whims boil over every other day. And that creepy corpse-wrangler bitch she runs around with, the two of them are perfectly—”

“What are you saying? How can you call her a ‘corpse-wrangler bitch’?”

A voice cut him off mid-sentence.

Considering that Soul-Seizing Demon Emperor, as his self-bestowed title implied, was a deeply insane man with towering self-regard, there was only one person in the world who could cut him off like that.

“Ah. Habit. It slipped out. Unit Commander of the Corpse Brigade, yes, yes. Ah. Right. Want some watermelon?”

“Hmph. Nice try, changing the subject. I’ll let it go just this once. Aaah.”

The woman sprawled with her head on Soul-Seizing Demon Emperor’s knee, outrageously shameless, was none other than his precious jewel of a daughter, Soul-Seizing Demon Princess Yu Ryang.

He had cut the watermelon into perfect, mouth-sized rounds and popped one into his daughter’s mouth, remembering the ghastly, thrilling day in question.

Good thing the corpse-wrangler—no, Unit Commander—had happened to be in Hangzhou.

If she hadn’t, he might have lost his most precious daughter in all the world.

Even now, the thought alone made him grit his teeth and swear that Heavenly Flower Sword, that fucking bitch, would one day die in the most miserable way he could contrive.

“Ah-ha? You’re spacing out.”

“Ah. My mistake. Your father let his mind wander. How is it? I carved only the very best parts for you.”

Every one of those little round pieces was cut from the sweetest center of the watermelon; he had slaughtered several dozen fine fruits just to feed his daughter.

There was no doting fool in the world quite like this doting fool.

“Well, we can just ask her directly. Go fetch that zombie bitch.”

By “zombie bitch,” he meant the Corpse Brigade Unit Commander Eon Yeonyeong’s masterpiece: the Ten-Thousand-Li Clairvoyant Jiangshi.

Thousand-Li Clairvoyance was a legendary pinnacle of sound transmission—said to carry your voice across a thousand li—but in reality, it belonged to the world of folklore and magic tricks.

In truth, no human voice transmission could reach so much as half a li. That was the limit of the human body.

And yet now they had a Ten-Thousand-Li Clairvoyant Jiangshi.

And it actually worked.

At the word “zombie,” a shadow passed over Yu Ryang’s face—so dark it seemed to reach all the way to murderous intent.

But it passed quickly enough that no one noticed.

She only grumbled inwardly.

[Big Sis, can you patch me through to Yangjing? How long do I have to keep buttering up this pathetic human, anyway?]

The reply sounded in her head.

[Look how spoiled you are. When you act cute, you get all kinds of delicious things, don’t you? I have a mouth too, you know. It’s not like I’ll die if I don’t eat, but still. Fine, I’ll be the one to act cute, you go lie in the coffin.]

[Ah, the line’s open. Hehe, Sis, do you like watermelon? I’ll send you some later.]

[Confirmed. Ah, they’re coming to get me. Why does this asshole never wake me gently and always kicks me instead? Being a jiangshi is suffering, I swear. Some bitches are born with a golden spoon in their mouths and live in luxury even after they become my fellow dead.]

Through that process, Yangjing was dragged out.

She smacked her lips at the heap of jewel-like watermelon pieces piled beside Soul-Seizing Demon Emperor’s seat.

Then she dialed out.

And somewhere else, the call connected.

“Oh my? Old Lady? When did you sneak off to Henan without me? I’m hurt. If you were going to Henan, we could have gone together.”

“What the hell are you babbling about? Why is this bitch spouting nonsense in the middle of dinner?”

Minor Water Marquis—Old Lady, Minor Water Witch’s master—wrinkled her brow.

Her mouth was filthy, as befitted an old woman, but there was no real malice in it.

Across from her, Eon Yeonyeong tilted her head far to one side in a huge, quizzical angle.

Her silk-smooth hair slid and swung to the side, hiding the little jiangshi pressed to her flank with its face buried at her ear.

“Just now, Soul-Seizing Demon Emperor asked, ‘Why is that old hag sniffing around Henan?’ That’s what he said.”

“He’s just as old as I am, who’s he calling an old hag? And Henan? Why are you asking me? When did I ever leave my seat?”

Eon Yeonyeong tilted her head even further.

At that angle, her sweetly smiling face looked downright uncanny.

“Oh my, but he really did say it was Minor Water Witch. He says there was more than one witness to Demon-Illusion Minor Water. Old Lady? Did you take in a disciple I don’t know about?”

Minor Water Marquis snorted.

“You think there’s only one Minor Water Witch in the world? Demonic arts are what a woman full of hate passes down to another vicious woman. Somewhere around the master’s master’s master, the line must have split. All the better. You refused to learn, didn’t you? If another line is carrying it on, this old woman can just clutch the demonic art to my chest and die.”

“Oh dear, Old Lady? Doesn’t it bother you at all? Some stranger out there is using your name.”

“If she’s cultivated Demon-Illusion Minor Water, she’ll know enough to rip a few men apart. Just tell him, yeah, that’s me. Say I dropped by because I was bored.”

Not only was she leaving the impostor alone, she was offering to confirm the fake identity for her.

Eon Yeonyeong clapped her hands.

“Ah, if the one in Henan is real, then you’re a double right now? My, that’s flawless work.”

“Quit saying stupid shit. Imagine how horrible a thing she must have been through to resort to Minor Water Arts. There’ll be some pitiful story there. Why get her tangled up with Blood Cult trash?”

Minor Water Marquis was soft-hearted toward women, and infinitely soft toward women with tragic fates—a bottomless well of mercy.

Eon Yeonyeong straightened up.

“Hmm. How dull. I was thinking I’d go visit that face I’ve been missing. You’re so cruel. Ahh, I miss her.”

“Enough. Eat.”

Connection terminated.

Back again at Righteous-Proper Martial Academy.

Yesterday was the same as today; today would be the same as tomorrow, as the cadets sweated through their days.

Sword Hall still burned with passion.

Hand-to-Hand Hall was appropriately enthusiastic.

But the atmosphere in Blade Hall had changed.

It was thanks to a single line from Peng Daesan, who couldn’t stand watching the cadets roll around in front of his sister’s fury any longer.

“I can’t stand weak women. I much prefer a strong, reliable man like my sister.”

The women exploded with vigor.

Grinding their teeth, they threw themselves into training.

They even hit the strength drills they’d avoided for fear of bulking up, pouring burning effort into them.

These were the same girls who had done nothing but put on a frail face and cry whenever they were pushed, no matter how hard you drove them?

At that point, what was the instructor even for?

Peng Chor-yeo was half drowned in self-loathing at the result.

But the men, cowed by the women’s newfound intimidation, shook their heads and dropped their pretensions.

They too were now able to set aside their peacock strutting and focus on training.

As a result, the atmosphere in Blade Hall was steadily heating up as well.

Just as the Medical-Military Martial Academy was ripening nicely like this, an uninvited guest arrived.

From the moment of their appearance, there was no way to call this guest ordinary.

Because there was simply no way to frame someone riding up in a golden palanquin as “ordinary.”

Even less so when that golden palanquin came trundling in through a pounding summer rain, its passenger soaked to the skin.