Chapter 782: Bloodline (16)

The Son of Heaven’s final words were these:

“You yourself have refused to be Yeonsul and chosen to be Qing of the martial world.

So remain so from this day forward. If you ever go against this, I will judge it as treason.”

They were a ruthless declaration: You are no longer my daughter.

But Qing actually felt lighter.

I mean, who ever said I wanted to be Yeonsul?

If anything, having it officially stated that she wasn’t was great.

Honestly, if the Son of Heaven had gone, “Come here, let me hold you, my daughter, my precious daughter,” and burst into tears and clung to her, it would have been a hundred times more awkward and difficult.

Her heart already had a sore spot, and there were more than enough people who jabbed at it: the Empress, and the entire ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) “Protect-Yeonsul squad” of the Forbidden City, for starters.

She had never been Yeonsul to begin with, and had never had even the slightest intention of becoming Yeonsul, so... what had actually changed?

In the end, all she had gained from her audience with the Son of Heaven was that one unpleasant quest now registered on her status window.

Martial Sellout.

At least, she thought she understood why the status window had chosen such a violently loaded term.

The status window did not possess emotions like an actual person, and up to now, none of the quests it had given had ever shown favoritism toward any particular faction.

So why this kind of wording?

If Qing really did, as representative of the martial world, receive a General’s Sword under the Son of Heaven and then, as the authorities’ hatchetman, marched out to suppress the demonic side...

Then it had to be taken as a warning that this was exactly how martial artists would look at her in that moment.

A traitor to the martial world. A collaborator who sold the martial world out.

In other words, someone they’d treat as a “martial sellout.”

That part, well. It can’t be helped...

But Qing still had a certain amount of confidence.

Even so, she didn’t believe her friends, or her master, or the disciples of Priestess Order Temple, would hate her or shun her.

You can’t be loved by everybody, right?

Either way, she’d bought ten years. That was good.

She had pushed the authorities’ invasion of the martial world back by a full decade—what a massive achievement was that?

And since when had she ever cared about quests anyway? Whether they called her Martial Sellout or national traitor, they could label her however they liked. Honestly, the Central Plains wasn’t even her country.

Separate from all of that, though, Qing had a big problem to mull over.

If I tell Martial Alliance about this, I’ll be treated as a martial sellout on the spot.

Then do I have to dump the whole birth-secret mess on them too?

Even if she didn’t, the martial world would obviously start preparing to clash head-on with the authorities.

And in that case, forget ten years—there’d be nothing strange about the “true power of a nation that the martial world does not know,” as the Son of Heaven had put it, coming crashing down from the authorities right away.

Only after thinking it through that far did Qing finally read the Son of Heaven’s intention.

Within ten years—at most ten years—by any means necessary, rise to a position that represents the orthodox martial world’s collective will.

Then, after that, smack everyone on the back of the head as hard as possible and hand Martial Alliance over.

That was the quest he had given her.

Wow, the Son of Heaven really plays dirty...

And then Qing herself felt a surge of emotion.

I mean, who even am I, that I’m supposed to “sell the martial world” or whatever? Since when do I get to decide any of that?

I’m just one ordinary, single martial expert... okay, sure, a single expert who’s stepped past the “same-realm” line into a transcendent expert, but still.

While Qing was busy trying to soothe her own snarled-up insides, footsteps outside announced a summons from Changchun Hall.

The Empress’s evening summons—it came almost every night now.

The Empress had practically parked Qing in Hambok Palace, in “her own backyard,” so Qing trailed along and stepped into the Empress’s quarters.

“That outrageous talk of a wedding, which is an insult even to put into words, has been canceled. Naturally. But honestly, how can he be so heartless!”

The Empress’s face was flushed, anger blazing, breath coming out in furious huffs.

“Uh... what happened, exactly?”

“Don’t even ask. His Majesty says he will leave that fake and her horde of sluts alone! Those things ought to be hanging up and burned this instant and it still wouldn’t be enough!”

“Ah. Like that.”

Saying Qing was no longer Yeonsul meant he intended to treat the current Yeonsul as the real one.

The fake Yeonsul had become the real Yeonsul.

The Heavenly-Maiden Temple monk-women who’d “cured” Yeonsul and earned their plaque, the Classic of Love yoga practitioners from India, would likewise retain their current status.

“All in the name of that damned ‘face.’ Those great traitors who mocked the imperial house should at least be executed, but no—he’s hiding it, because if people found out, they’d point and jeer that he’s such a fool he didn’t even notice his own child had been switched!”

“Mm... I’m fine with it, though. Actually, well... I’m sorry to say this, but I’d rather live as Qing of the martial world than as Princess Yeonsul. So I’d say this ended up working in my favor, in a way. Please don’t let it hurt you too much.”

“And you defend such a heartless father? You really are too kind for your own good, you foolish girl.”

A heartless father.

They said he’d never liked Yeonsul from the start, and had always scolded her. That Yeonsul had always trembled and shrunk whenever she stood before the Son of Heaven.

Ah. So that was it.

The Son of Heaven really was a heartless man.

Not that it mattered to her, but he had been that way toward Yeonsul.

And, above all, toward the common people.

A heartless ruler who might act “for the realm” but did not love the people at all.

The Son of Heaven talked about the grand cause.

Qing, much as she hadn’t wanted to study, had still been forced to skim the long history of the Central Plains and had learned well enough just how horrible and ghastly war in the Central Plains really was.

The Son of Heaven wanted to conquer the martial world to keep such vast wars from breaking out, to prevent that kind of catastrophe in advance for the sake of the realm’s stability.

But what about the blood that would have to be spilled for that?

He had not said a single word about the countless deaths that would occur during the conquest of the martial world.

His track record so far fit.

He was the heartless older brother who had killed his own younger brother in Sichuan to bring about the Tang Clan’s destruction.

When that failed, he tried to annihilate a rebellious prince by setting the mountains on fire, not sparing a thought for the tens of thousands, or perhaps hundreds of thousands, who would suffer from that wildfire—a heartless ruler.

That was how you got a mutt like that.

The Son of Heaven talked big about the grand cause while being heartless, and right alongside him, an equally heartless “loyal subject” had pushed his own child into a deathtrap and spun conspiracies.

Still, she had delayed it.

Who had? None other than this body, the Transcendent Flower-Realm Heavenly Flower Sword.

She had pushed it back ten whole years—what would they have done without her?

Thinking about it anew, she was honestly pretty proud of herself.

Separate from that, it was also true that for such a heartless Son of Heaven, this was the obvious course of action.

The princess had been swapped out?

The imperial house’s face would be ground into the dirt.

On top of that, the Heavenly-Maiden Temple monk-women played the role of “enhancers,” strengthening the Golden Guard like some kind of reinforcement factory.

If he said “Kill them all right now,” then who would strengthen the Golden Guard from now on?

So if he just declared that nothing had ever happened, the imperial house would take no particular loss.

And for her, well... that outcome did work in her favor...

“Come here.”

The Empress casually shifted to one corner of her long couch and patted the empty space, beckoning.

It meant: come lay your head on my thigh.

Qing hesitated.

It wasn’t that she was suddenly reluctant after all this time.

It was just that there was a stranger here...

“Um, Your Majesty? This person is...?”

“Yes, I keep wondering when your memory will return. You don’t even recognize your own younger sister’s face. This is your younger sister, Cheohye.”

“Uh?”

Since when do I have a younger sister?

Not that she didn’t have a little sister—there was that bratty girl back in her hometown somewhere in some other world, and on this side there was Jangmyeong, at best.

But her puzzlement was only momentary.

Princess Yeonsul could very well have had a younger sister.

“Um, hello?”

“...Sister.”

The sound of goosebumps shooting up her arms.

She’d thought she’d gotten used to being called “sister,” but hearing it come from a stranger’s mouth was a whole different kind of hard to endure.

“Uh, so... are you Princess Cheohye, then?”

“It’s Haryeon.”

“Mm.”

What? That’s one vague answer.

Are you Princess Ju Haryeon Cheohye, or Princess Ju Cheohye Haryeon? You could at least say it clearly.

Whatever. I’ll just call her ‘Princess’ or something.

But... she had heard the name somewhere, hadn’t she?

Where had she heard it...?

Mm, but, um, hehe. She’s gorgeous.

Qing’s ideal type had always been the same.

A fresh, delicate look—put harshly, a slightly sickly impression—with a calm, soft-spoken personality, and a quiet smile that made her an intellectual beauty.

It was just that, for some reason, in the Central Plains, any beauty with that kind of air about her never seemed to be normal.

The first ideal-type she had met had been a homicidal maniac the likes of which the world would never see again.

The second had only looked the part; as a person, she’d had some pretty serious issues.

And this was the third.

But this time, she finally felt like she was looking at a properly decent human being—with a nice full store of good karma, too.

“It’s been a long time. Not that I realized it had been a long time.”

“Ah. Right.”

“It’s strange, seeing you being awkward. You used to always take my hand and lead me to the Eohwa Garden.”

Wow, the atmosphere was really... a lot.

“Mother, may I take Sister with me today?”

“Yes. If the two of you talk quietly together, the lost memories may come back. It would be good if you slept together like before as well. Do you remember? Haryeon has always been so easily frightened she can’t fall asleep alone, so you used to sneak in and sleep beside her.”

“Mm. So I did.”

Even if you told her that, hearing some stranger’s past felt nothing but awkward.

*****

“Actually, I was not the one who hated sleeping alone. It was Sister. But... that wasn’t something we could say out loud.”

Yeonsul had snuck into Haryeon’s quarters because she didn’t want to sleep alone.

But the excuse Yeonsul had offered up was Haryeon.

Because that was the excuse that would work.

An older sister who sneaks into her younger sister’s quarters to soothe a frightened girl to sleep—who wouldn’t unconsciously smile at such a cute little anecdote?

But if she’d said she was sneaking into her little sister’s quarters because she didn’t want to sleep alone?

Then she’d just be branded a coward herself.

Qing, however, was puzzled.

Wait, is my inability to sleep alone actually one of Yeonsul’s habits? Is the way I absolutely can’t sleep unless someone’s beside me... because of that?

But Haryeon shook her head.

“No. If Sister closed her eyes anywhere, she’d fall right to sleep. You just got bored sleeping alone, and after sleeping so much during the day, you couldn’t fall asleep at night, so whenever I started to get drowsy you’d shake me awake and make me listen to you chatter.”

“Ah. That sounds a little mean.”

Haryeon gave a small, neat smile.

“She probably thought I would be bored. Sister was always like that. ‘What are you doing, how can reading be fun, let’s go, have you seen the elephant spraying water?’ Oh, speaking of which, have you not gone to the Eohwa Garden yet? You used to go see the elephant at least once every two days.”

“What? There’s an elephant?”

Qing perked up.

A great elephant—that is, an elephant.

How were you supposed to not go see an elephant?

For reference, the Eohwa Garden was the Son of Heaven’s garden and also the menagerie where all sorts of rare beasts, the Son of Heaven’s “pets,” were kept.

Not that these animals were there because the Son of Heaven particularly liked them; it was because when rare beasts were delivered as tribute, they had no choice but to raise them properly.

“Ah. This part of you is exactly the same.”

Haryeon let out a soft, reserved chuckle.

For a moment, Qing’s mind went blank at the sight of that lovely figure.

Wow. Even her smile is perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Haryeon gently unfolded Yeonsul’s memories.

How she had learned somewhere how to make flower rings and flower crowns, then rampaged through the gardens of the Janyeong Palace complex, only to end up shoving oversized flower crowns onto all ten fingers, her neck, and her head—Yeonsul’s story.

Haryeon, of course, had gotten a bad rash from plant toxins and fallen seriously ill.

How, during lessons, Yeonsul had grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her along, only to wriggle out of it herself and leave Haryeon to take all the scolding...

Whenever she was bored, Yeonsul would come find Haryeon and drag her outside—a very, very active older sister.

The problem was that Haryeon was a homebody.

Going outside meant losing stamina with every breath; if she went out once in a day, she wouldn’t want to leave the house again for the rest of it.

To Haryeon, who liked to sit alone reading or doing embroidery, Yeonsul had been an irresistible storm.

“Um, so... you... did get along? Right?”

“To be honest, she was an annoying older sister. A petty older sister. But when she fell ill and collapsed, that was when I finally realized... how lonely it was when she stopped coming.”

Haryeon took Qing’s hand.

Then, as if she were finally getting to the point, she lifted her long lashes and looked straight at her as she spoke.

“Sister. Please don’t hate His Majesty—our father—too much.”