Chapter 781: Bloodline (15)

The truth was, Qing had actually been spacing out enough during this grand debate to think about other things, so she wasn’t exactly focused.

Because this was just too big a topic.

You could emphasize that the peace of the entire world depended on a petty little commoner like her all you wanted—there was no way it would feel real.

Besides, what did the peace of the Central Plains, the tranquility of “all under Heaven,” have to do with Qing?

Her roots would always be those of an outsider.

Not even a barbarian—something from an entirely different world. If you wanted to put a label on it, maybe “alien” was about right.

She lived in the Central Plains, grew more familiar with Central Plains culture, and learned to understand it with her head—maybe precisely because of that.

The more she learned about the Central Plains, the more she gained the sad realization that the people of this world had a fundamental way of thinking utterly different from hers.

So even when she was with the people of the Central Plains—her precious ones—the loneliness of never quite fitting in gnawed at her, and she chased warmth like a foreigner in search of kindness.

So whether the Son of Heaven’s opinion was right or wrong didn’t really matter to her.

She had never felt affection for the Central Plains; its peace was a distant story.

What mattered to Qing were her people.

Cutting down villains was a personal joy.

Maybe that was a bit inappropriate, but if you insisted on categorizing it—something like a personal sense of volunteer work? Fulfillment? Satisfaction? That sort of vibe.

I enjoy it, and the world benefits too.

That didn’t mean Qing went around butchering every villain she saw while thinking, Today as well I shall console the souls killed by demonic heads and prevent future disasters, contributing to peace in the martial world.

She’d never held such lofty ideals. She was the perfect fit for the word “small-time commoner.”

So even if the ruler of the Central Plains explained his grand duty of governing the realm, Qing had no desire to agree with it—or to get involved.

Only if that grand duty harmed her precious people—

That, she could not accept. That, she could not forgive.

If someone peered inside her, they might well call her an endlessly selfish bitch.

Someone who didn’t give a damn about the peace of the world, yet also rejected the methods of those trying to secure that peace.

Someone who only calculated the harm to “her people” and schemed about whether there was some way they could slip out of it.

But why exactly was she obligated to agonize over this?

What was so sacred about the “peace of the world,” anyway?

She just wanted to clear out this damned status window, then live jostling along with the Priestess Order Temple crowd, go on trips now and then to meet friends and hang out, and, while she was at it, torture and kill some bad guys and enjoy the pleasures of slaughter.

That was all—the modest dream she wished for.

So the Son of Heaven’s proposal was, in a way... a little bit tempting?

“Your Majesty. Certainly, those wicked, appalling demonic heretics must be punished according to the law as the rebels they are. Their abuses have long since crossed the line. If Your Majesty raises the banner of extermination, all the people will gladly take up spear and sword to join you. Are they not the very great enemy that destroys the peace of the world?”

At that, the Son of Heaven’s expression twisted strangely.

All this time he’d been waiting to hear what argument “the martial artist Ximen Qing” would make to oppose him, and now—

“But the Martial Alliance, the orthodox side, is not the band of rebels Your Majesty imagines. Rather, they are those who constantly strive for the peace of the Central Plains and, if I may say so, assist the government’s work.”

“They assist the government’s work?”

“When an evil one appears among the great experts of the martial world, he is as swift as a fine steed, capable of running a thousand li in a single day to flee. Such a man may not be able to match Your Majesty’s armies, but the blood of many loyal and brave soldiers would have to be spilled to subdue him. So the orthodox Martial Alliance strives to eliminate such demonic heads first, to spare the government that burden.”

“Your words are endlessly deceitful. How is that so-called loyalty? Is it {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} not simply a brawl to protect the profit and rice bowls of this ‘Martial Alliance’ of yours?”

But Qing had already chosen her direction.

Purge the demonic side and spare the orthodox side.

If her mind had not settled, things might be different. But once it did, and she had even the slightest pretext, Qing’s mouth became a venomous thing, brazen enough to argue the fate of the world.

“Your Majesty. With all due respect—diligent farmers do not work the fields for the peace of the world. Their efforts to grow tastier grain, more grain, all of that is for feeding their families, for better houses, better clothes, better food. In other words, it’s labor for personal gain. Yet because of those farmers’ work, fallow fields are filled with grain and fewer people go hungry. In the end, is that not of benefit to the world?”

Qing’s argument matched the opinion of a certain big-nosed Mister A. from the West who, in this era, hadn’t even been born yet.

Though, technically, it didn’t.

Because even from the standpoint of the current Central Plains, there had been a teacher some two thousand years ago—a full two thousand years—among the Hundred Schools of Thought who had argued something similar.

“How laughable. How dare you speak of Master Shin’s Way?”

Among the Hundred Schools, he was the Legalist rebel—Master Shin.

The teachings of the Legalist masters were simple.

A mighty army! A mighty law!

You don’t follow the law? The army will crush you!

Master Shin had rebelled against that.

He’d been captivated by the Daoist teaching of non-action—let people live and manage on their own.

A radical fusion of Legalism and Daoism: establish strong laws in the country, but restrict them only to unfair methods.

He directly targeted connections, the relationship webs—what would later be called “guanxi”—which were already an instinct of the Central Plains people.

Do that, and everyone would strive to succeed within the bounds of the law. Under laws that blocked evil, the path of serving yourself would be identical to serving the world.

But Master Shin’s doctrine was ignored both above and below; he was never raised as a great sage, only remembered as one of the nameless among the Hundred Schools.

Because corruption, for the people of the Central Plains, was an instinct carved into their souls, practically the very reason they lived.

To do any business at all, a person had to “compete properly” with connections and bribes, use those backing ties to corner the market, crush competitors, collude to protect their wealth, and calculate that with people everywhere, of course you squeezed wages down.

And the very “unfair methods” Master Shin criticized were these exact tricks.

So naturally the people of the Central Plains reacted like this:

If we don’t do that, how are we supposed to get rich?!

In a future that had yet to arrive, that big-nosed Mister A. from the West would make almost exactly the same argument, and be revered as the greatest teacher in the world.

Master Shin had met the opposite fate.

“Master Shin’s words only hold once the army of the realm is strong and the authority of the law stands high. But I say this: you martial artists already know the national law, yet you treat it as if it does not exist and ignore it. How then can that ever be to the country’s benefit?”

Did Qing really not see that response coming?

She had already memorized the Hundred Schools inside and out.

Granted, it was all rote learning, so she had to work her brain for a while to pull it out. But once she dragged out everything she needed, she could unleash the formless poison that even the Tang Clan’s Grand Elder had acknowledged.

“Then, if Your Majesty’s army sweeps away those heinous demonic heretics in one stroke with overwhelming might, the orthodox martial artists will naturally kneel before that might as well.”

If they watched the demonic side wiped out, the orthodox side would have no choice but to obey national law.

By Qing’s logic, a great river of blood would run.

The demonic side wasn’t about to go quietly. Countless soldiers would die.

But there was no helping that.

And after that, the martial world would end up under the imperial house.

Well, so what? That’s still better than being exterminated.

The Son of Heaven had already decided to erase the martial world.

And she, for her part, could not bear to watch the Martial Alliance be wiped out like that.

So she’d throw the demonic bastards to him.

Please slaughter them. The orthodox will behave and follow the rules, so spare them.

And honestly, even in the martial world, people drawing swords and going wild whenever they pleased had been something of a problem.

Though it would make her hobby life a bit more complicated...

The Son of Heaven’s expression grew strange again.

“Wipe out the demonic side? By your own reasoning, the orthodox martial artists you speak of should not join that battle. It would be solely to display the majesty of the imperial army, is that it?”

“If Your Majesty commands it, the Martial Alliance will gladly lend its strength. But the main force must be Your Majesty’s stern and disciplined soldiers.”

“Half your martial world will be burned. The so-called orthodox, those you call righteous, will also be threatened. What guarantee do I have that this Martial Alliance of yours will not rebel?”

“If that is Your Majesty’s concern, then please, simply give this lowly one the order. I will personally persuade the Alliance to understand Your Majesty’s greater design. And if I fail, Your Majesty may carry out your original intent.”

I’ll handle the persuasion somehow.

The Son of Heaven blinked.

It was a gesture uncannily similar to Qing’s—and of course, that was the sort of thing neither party ever noticed.

Because people rarely knew what they themselves looked like.

“Your words are endlessly deceitful. To you, the martial world is only your Martial Alliance. As long as they survive, nothing else matters?”

“If the Martial Alliance lives by upholding national law, Your Majesty will make use of them. Then, for a time, government and martial world will be entangled and chaotic, but in the end, the next generation will spend its martial arts for the country, and the world will prosper all the more.”

Right now, the Alliance leadership would hate being under imperial rule.

But if they weren’t oppressed and were treated properly, then once the present leadership retired and the next generation took over, it would be different.

In short:

Treat the current Martial Alliance well.

And later, do whatever you want with the future Alliance.

Because that part wasn’t her business.

The Priestess Order Temple, her friends, the current Martial Alliance—she just wanted them to live well and pass on.

Their descendants could figure things out for themselves.

If she kept the martial world from being annihilated, they should already be grateful. If anyone wanted “freedom for the martial world” after that, they were welcome to struggle for it themselves.

“Heh... yes. Heh—ha-ha!”

The Son of Heaven suddenly burst out laughing.

A hearty, booming laugh that rang through the vast private hall.

“They say to make a great person, you must release them into the world and let them be tempered by its storms. You have become impressive indeed.”

A compliment? Now?

Qing was completely thrown.

“Yes. As you say, the plan to cull the wicked from the martial world and tame the rest does not sound bad.”

“I am deeply honored, Your Majesty.”

Qing bowed her head in relief.

Okay, I think we got through that somehow.

It was just at that moment—

“However. Before that.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. What now.

“The representative of your Martial Alliance must appear before me, kneel, and swear loyalty. Whether that representative is the Alliance Leader you so revere, or this ‘Number One Under Heaven’ you all worship, or simply whoever has the greatest influence on the Martial Alliance—it does not matter. If they come with the unified consent of the Alliance and present themselves before me, I shall bestow upon them a General’s Sword.”

A General’s Sword was the symbol of a general.

To give such a sword to the representative of the Martial Alliance was to officially declare the Alliance a military organization under the Son of Heaven.

Hmm. A representative, huh.

The Alliance Leader? Or the grand master?

From Qing’s perspective, “good is good,” and if they got the demonic side removed and official recognition from the government, that wouldn’t be half bad.

But convincing either of those two? That sounded... difficult.

What do I even say to them?

As she pondered how she ought to phrase it, Qing rummaged in her head for the sayings of the sages and historical anecdotes.

But it was a bit early to be drafting persuasion speeches.

“However. The representative of the Martial Alliance who kneels before the Son of Heaven must be you.”

Qing blinked rapidly.

Me? Me? Why?

“Ten years. I shall give you ten years.”

“...Pardon?”

“By any means necessary, seize control of the Martial Alliance and come before me as its representative. Then the Heavenly Dynasty will permit the martial world to endure.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Did you not just now dare to argue state affairs and advise that I place the orthodox martial world under the Heavenly Dynasty? Then as you say, I shall entrust the orthodox martial world to you and make great use of it.”

Now she realized it: the Son of Heaven and Her Majesty both had the same vile conversational trick—cutting people off and talking over them, leaning on their authority.

No one could dare interrupt the Son of Heaven or the Empress, so they were free to cut others off as much as they wanted, and whoever was listening had no way to protest.

“Before that, you must first prove your capability. Place the Martial Alliance beneath you and prove it.”

“However—”

“Ten years. Within ten years, bring the Martial Alliance and stand before me. You will personally wield the General’s Sword and exterminate those demonic heretics. If not, the Heavenly Dynasty will no longer bother with pretexts. The world will learn what power your martial world has never seen looks like.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. What kind of dogshit is this—

As Qing’s eyes twitched, as if to congratulate her on this “achievement,” a blue rectangle suddenly popped up in her vision.

[Lineage Quest – Martial Sellout.]

[You have received a personal decree from the Son of Heaven.]

Actions required to complete the quest

Bloodline) Sell the martial world to the imperial house and enjoy wealth and glory.

Qing immediately slammed the quest window closed.

No, seriously, what the hell is with this “Martial Sellout” bullshit.