Chapter 794: Diancang Expedition (5)

As she finished breakfast and was getting ready to head down the mountain, Peng Chor-yeo sidled up and casually lobbed a feeler at Qing.

“Qing, are you going back to the Priestess Order now? If you don’t have anything set, why don’t you hang around Nanjing for a bit before you go? The weather’s perfect right now—nice and cool.”

If there was a Beijing, then of course there was a Nanjing.

Beijing in Hebei and Nanjing right beneath it, pressed up close—if you had to compare them, they were basically Special-City-tier in status, like Qing’s hometown.

“I’m stopping by the Diancang Sect.”

“Diancang? In Yunnan? That far?”

“Want to come with me if you’ve got nothing to do, Chor-yeo?”

Normally, Qing wasn’t the type to invite people along.

But right now was different.

Because she had Jayeo.

Wouldn’t it be better to have as many people around as possible?

Because Jayeo was a fake Upward-Heaven Slaughter Star.

If Qing left her somewhere and went off—and then, like last time, the kid got caught dissecting animals—if Qing was there, whatever, but what if she wasn’t?

No, wait. A kid can dissect animals out of curiosity. You could just go, wow, a future doctor, and move on. What was there to feel weird about?

Well, anyway.

Peng Chor-yeo shook her head.

“At my age, tagging along would be a bit much. But if you’re going on a long trip, you’ll need to pack properly so you feel secure. I’ll attach a porter to you—use him as comfortably as an ox or a horse.”

“Huh? Chor-yeo, you don’t have to—”

“No. That’s what’ll put my mind at ease. Here—work him as much as you want. Here. A strong porter. Work him in the daytime, and—oh my—kheh-heh-heh.”

With a lecherous little laugh, Peng Chor-yeo patted—no, smacked and thumped—her younger brother Peng Daesan’s shoulder, rough and loud.

“No, what are you even saying?! On a lady’s road, what kind of man—absolutely not!”

Tang Nanna flared up and shouted. Peng Chor-yeo tilted her head, baffled.

“Was he always like this...? I never heard anything normal about him to begin with.”

Even so, Peng Daesan only blew air through his nose—HNGH—and didn’t actually protest.

Hm. Looks like Daesan really didn’t want to go home.

Well, he’d never been the type to stay in the house anyway—weren’t there rumors about him having wanderlust?

“Nanna, what about you? Want to come? You don’t have to go all the way to Yunnan—if we stop by Sichuan on the way, it’s basically—”

“Come on, Qing. Who goes to Yunnan by stopping in Sichuan? Do you know how brutal those roads are? You go down by looping through Guizhou.”

Nanna didn’t seem to want to go home either.

Even if the road was “brutal,” how brutal could it be for Qing?

And yet, the way she insisted on taking the long way instead of going home—it was the same principle as an annoying office boss who acts like he’s dying to leave, then lights up the second someone mentions an after-work dinner.

Qing turned her head.

Moyong Juhee, catching her gaze, let her long eyelashes droop.

“Uh... my lady, for me... I promised I’d watch Jun’s training. And it’s my mother’s memorial day, too...”

“Ah. Then there’s nothing we can do.”

“B-but... um... if you really need me...”

“Huh? No. Don’t worry about it. Family comes first. Me? What does it matter if I collapse on the road somewhere? Right?”

Qing’s eyes narrowed.

“Eep. N-no, I didn’t mean—!”

“Relax. I’m joking.”

Moyong Juhee looked genuinely disappointed.

But no matter what, family came first. Yeah.

“Sword-Freak, you’re taking charge of West Sword Squad training?”

“That’s right. Did I not receive endless inspiration from the Hall Cadets of the Sword Hall this term? Such passionate swordsmen! How could I let an opportunity to help them pass me by? My heart is already pounding at the thought of sharing conversation with the sword.”

The Sword Hall’s Hall Cadets were almost entirely reassigned under the Martial Alliance’s combat arm as West Sword Squad.

To begin with, those Hall Cadets had entered with a condition of three years after completion—and even aside from that, why would they refuse a proper combat-unit position under the Martial Alliance?

It wasn’t a slave contract to be worked for three years after finishing.

By Qing’s hometown standards, it was closer to getting headhunted straight into a major corporation—a perk.

“Chunbong, what about you? You’re not coming?”

“Ah—uh—eek—are you... are you referring to me, Sima the Great? No, more importantly, you just said Chunbong—”

“Must’ve misheard. If you’re bored, you can go get some air. We stop by the Diancang Sect, and if there’s anything worth seeing around there, we take a quick look.”

“Ahem. Heavenly Flower Sword. As the Martial Alliance’s youngest Deputy-Adjutant Runner, and as one who stands at the center of the Martial Alliance’s entire operation—without me, Sima the Great, the Martial Alliance simply cannot function—so, ahem. O-of course, I understand the Heavenly Flower Sword’s desire to deepen our friendship, but, ahem. I-I’m not saying I don’t want to, it’s just that there’s work...”

Sima Chunbong’s face went bright red.

She rambled on and on like someone who’d never once been invited to “go have fun” in her entire life.

“Zhuge, do you know the road into Yunnan?”

“Sister, have you heard of the Ten-Thousand Peaks? The spectacular vista of Yunnan—said to have a hundred thousand peaks. They say if you don’t see it at least once in your life, you can’t claim you’ve lived at all. In that case, Zhuge, too, must live his life.”

Qing looked back and forth between Sima Chunbong and Zhuge Hyun.

Both were the talkative type who insisted they were smart—but one was busy “working for the Martial Alliance,” while the other was openly planning to go gallivanting.

Zhuge Hyun flashed a grin.

“Sister. A true wise person is someone who runs their own business. They don’t bow their head working under someone else. The clever make others work for them. The dull devote themselves to someone else’s business, laboring for another’s profit.”

That made Qing think of home for the first time in a while.

That was exactly what pyramid schemes said.

Do you know Rich Dad? If your money doesn’t grow even while you sleep, you’ll never be rich for your entire life. Don’t work for someone else and take a salary—own your business, a system where others work for you, meaning you must own a business to become rich.

You won’t do it? Are you sure that’s okay? Are you going to be Poor Dad and Beggar Dad?

They wrap it in pretty words, but in the end it’s nothing more than sweet talk that means: I’m going to run my “business,” so you be my slave.

Then your slave recruits another slave, and that slave recruits another slave, and the income of whoever’s at the top keeps rising—completing a tiered class society built on pyramid selling.

Anyway.

That had been Zhuge Hyun’s answer, delivered because he’d read Qing’s eyes like a ghost.

The Sima clan gets worked to death for the Martial Alliance, and we move for our own Great House—that was what he was saying.

Zhuge Hyun was usually all soft and mild, but maybe because his house had been bitter rivals with the Sima clan for ages, he showed his fangs in front of them.

But Sima Chunbong wasn’t easy either.

“Indeed. An anecdote of Zhongda and Kongming, is it? Having never held the realm in your hand, I suppose I can understand your... effort.”

It was the story of the two houses’ brightest elders—Sima Yi and Zhuge Liang.

Sima Yi, for the sake of the realm, removed the grotesque antisocial personality disaster that was Cao Pi—and, likewise for the realm, carved the Central Plains into star-shaped pieces.

But look at Zhuge Liang.

A certain irresponsible someone abandoned a country, chasing after his brothers and deciding he would die too—yet Zhuge Liang never swallowed it up. He struggled to keep it alive to the end, and died of overwork.

“Kgh.” “Heh.”

Judging by their reactions, the match had ended.

Because Zhuge Hyun couldn’t refute it.

If he tried to say, fine, Kongming is a loyal minister for all ages and Zhongda is a traitorous schemer who betrayed the Central Plains and made the Four Kings of Sichuan—

then Sima Chunbong, who worked for the Martial Alliance, would become the better person compared to Zhuge Hyun, who claimed he moved for his house.

And if he tried to flip it the other way?

Then he’d be insulting his own ancestor out of his own mouth.

A dead end.

Watching it, Qing adjusted her internal “IQ rankings” of the people she knew.

As expected—just from this alone, it was obvious who ranked first in IQ:

That guy from Seol House Trading Company, with the lethal charm that makes grown men cry, and the brilliant brain on top of it!

Congratulations!

Second was the astonishing wisdom pouch, Chunbong.

Third was Nanna, physician and (poison) pharmacist.

Zhuge Hyun—DISQUALIFIED.

“Changbin. You don’t have anything to do anyway, right? Come with.”

“I-I need to get my master’s permission...”

“Ah. Right. Then there’s nothing we can do.”

People from Great Houses could run around as they pleased, but those from massive sects couldn’t just go roaming wherever.

Maybe you could slip off for a month or so—but if you were going to play all the way out at the edge of the Central Plains, you’d have to get your sect’s permission.

Still, the way Changbin let out a relieved—HOO—was irritating.

What, did he think someone was going to eat him?

Why did he look happy about it?

While she was at it, Qing asked the rest of the instructors present whether they wanted to come along.

Honestly, it was just courtesy—since they were right there, she was obligated to ask. It would be rude to “leave people out.”

So Instructor Yu Uga and Instructor Wolbong answered without even thinking—saying their sect affairs were too busy, how unfortunate—wearing expressions that were not unfortunate at all.

Anyway.

It looked like the traveling companions for the Diancang Expedition had been decided.

On the way, she’d have Jin Jangmyeong drop her off at the Priestess Order, and then she had to pick up her own—her sworn little sister—from Seol House Trading Company.

Kheh-heh.

Sworn little sister, you’re dead.

I’ve been starving for a long time...!

Just then, a hand tugged lightly at her sleeve.

“Lady Seomun. What about me?”

“Hm? Iri, you’re coming anyway, aren’t you?”

Seol Iri’s expression turned subtle.

But only for a moment.

“Wait—what is this? Why is this Ice Chicken acting like it’s only natural that she’s coming along with us?”

Tang Nanna growled, RRRRRR.

Seol Iri looped her arm through Qing’s.

“Because I’m always with her.”

“No. Ice Chicken’s been glued to Qing this whole time already, hasn’t she? This is unfair.”

In the Central Plains, calling someone a chicken usually meant they were a dumb little bastard. Chicken-head.

And since she was “ice-snow,” it became ice-chicken-head, ice-chicken, Ice Chicken—

It felt a little harsh.

But first: Gunyeong being dumb wasn’t slander. It was a plain fact.

And second: the only person Gunyeong spoke casually to was Nanna.

Some friendships expressed affection by stabbing each other with trash talk.

“It’s fine. Yeah. No.”

It’s fine. She has been glued to her. It’s not unfair.

“No, look at how this Ice Chicken talks—do you even have a home? Aren’t you going home? Are you a beggar?”

“My choice. Yeah. No.”

She didn’t have a home, and she wasn’t going home, but she wasn’t a beggar.

Qing tilted her head.

Wasn’t Gunyeong, strictly speaking, a beggar?

Wandering around without a home, eating Martial Alliance food—and now wandering after Qing and eating her food.

“This—see, Qing? See? I told you she’s like this—no home, no temple, clinging on, she’s totally planning to suck you dry like a leech, isn’t she? I told you!”

“Hey. You can’t talk like that to a poor kid with nowhere to go. If we don’t take care of her, she’ll end up collapsing dead alone on the roadside. You have to feel sorry for her. Right, Iri?”

“No.”

“Our Iri—I can’t stop calling you Ice Chicken, it fits too well. Can I call you Ice Chicken too?”

“No.”

“Our Iri—how could you, Qing—!”

“Mm. We won’t be bored, at least. Come on, let’s go. Jayeo, hand. Jangmyeong, hand.”

Qing grabbed the little ones’ hands on both sides.

Either way, it was time to go “home.”

Though with her master gone, it didn’t really feel like going home—more like stopping by for a moment, seeing her disciples’ faces, sending one letter to her master, and... yeah, she needed to send one to her teacher, too.

The Beijing trip had been dull and joyless.

But for some reason, the Diancang Expedition already felt loud and lively—like she had a good feeling about it.

Whether that completely baseless feeling would be right, nobody could know.

Distance remaining to the Diancang Sect: about five thousand five hundred li.