Chapter 802: I Don’t Like This Trend (6)

The sudden-raiding Civil-Engineering Fairy ended up retreating again, just like that, with no spine at all.

But Jangyun Sect’s chief steward wore an uneasy expression.

“Big brother, is this really okay? If they come back later foaming at the mouth, saying we tricked them...”

If Qing had been there, it would’ve been a confession she’d have answered by spitting out a furious thermonuclear strike.

But Qing wasn’t there, and Jangyun Sect’s leader, Cho Sang-il, was brimming with confidence.

“Idiot. You’ve got no guts, no guts. Let them dig around for a hundred days. Those kinds of people are just passing through. Who are the ones everyone’s going to keep seeing face-to-face every day? Us. Anyone with their mind screwed on straight won’t dare run their mouth.”

That was why whistleblowing was damn near impossible in big and small groups alike.

Unfortunately, life didn’t end just because a knight-errant’s tale wrapped up and the storyteller’s story hit its close.

When a knight-errant showed up, made a mess, and punished the bad guys, it felt cathartic—justice descended on the world, and then?

Sadly, the people left behind still had to keep living, which meant they had to bear the backlash in full.

And besides, “young knight-errant” wasn’t exactly a phrase used in a good way.

“You really think those bratty little kids in nice clothes are going to last more than a few days in a place like this? Talking about justice, my ass—while nursing sick people? I guarantee it. They won’t even last three days before they run.”

Helping people moaning in pain from a strange plague?

Since ancient times they’d said there were no dutiful sons by a long sickbed.

Nursing the sick was filthy, grimy work that was hard to endure even when it was your own parents.

How would brats so hot-blooded they’d storm into someone else’s sect out of nowhere ever endure that?

Cho Sang-il had logic, and he had grounds.

The only problem was, you saw what you were, and he assumed everyone’s character was on his level.

“As expected of you, big brother.”

“But Civil-Engineering Fairy? She sure didn’t look like someone hanging doors for the first time. Is that really a title? Nobody’s heard of it?”

Telling them to fix the gate before leaving had been, half of it, petty spite.

In this line of work, what was so wrong about collecting protection fees? Those thoughtless brats didn’t even know how the world worked, and they’d snapped back at an elder right to his face—of course it was infuriating.

But that was only half.

When it came to driving off youngsters, nothing worked better than humiliating them.

Kids who got publicly humiliated tended to sag, slink off, and run away.

If those brats were stuck there grunting while they tried to hang the gate back up, everyone could laugh at them and shame them, and that little scheme would chase them off for good.

But then—

She shaved the edge, whittled it with a short blade—shhk shhk—fitted the hinge pins, drove wooden pegs—thok thok thok—

And in no time, she’d hung the gate back up.

And it didn’t even make that creeaaak twisting sound anymore. It opened and closed smoothly—skill that proved she’d properly learned carpentry.

Still, Cho Sang-il let it go as if it were nothing.

“Well, the rivers and lakes have one or two weirdos. Whatever. For now, don’t go out collecting—lie low. After those bastards leave, you know what I mean.”

*****

When Lord Physician heard the report, he was dumbfounded.

“What? So you just came back trudging along? Like a fool, you just fixed the door panel and left?”

“Then what? You want me to pick a fight by force and turn them into cripples?”

“You should’ve! There’s no bastard more vile than the kind that feeds off sick people. Like you said—you should’ve snapped their legs.”

The intensity of his words was unexpectedly hardline.

Qing realized it clearly, all over again.

...Yeah. Old sir really was the type where as long as you didn’t kill them, it was fine.

But Qing hadn’t withdrawn for nothing.

“What if what they said is true?”

“You believe that? Heavenly maiden, you’re really—so frustrating.”

Lord Physician pounded his chest.

But Qing had her reasons too.

“Even if it’s just a one-in-ten-thousand chance. If they’re the type to read the room from one word from you and even close their gates, then for an unorthodox sect, they’re still people—aren’t they? If the plague settles and different bastards come in, wouldn’t that be worse?”

Unorthodox sects were like rats and bugs.

You swept them away and others appeared.

If they even cared about the world’s gaze enough to close their gates, then like Qing said, among unorthodox sects they were in the upper ten percent of human decency.

If she wiped them out for no reason and later truly vicious bastards took their place?

Who would suffer that damage?

Lord Physician nodded.

“Right. I knew from the start you were deep-hearted, heavenly maiden. Of course you had a reason. That’s right.”

Qing’s party was dumbfounded twice over.

Once, at Lord Physician changing his tune at the speed of light.

And twice, at him calling Qing “deep-hearted.”

“So, old sir. You should’ve made it certain before we left. Are you sure they’re feeding off the sick?”

“Hah. You think I’m talking out of my ass?”

“Not suspicion. There has to be a reason you think that.”

“Can’t you tell by what the sick are shitting? If you eat, something has to come out—up or down, right? But it doesn’t come out as much as what we feed them. I buy grain, measure it out, divide a day’s portion, exact and regular—and there’s no reason to hoard it. Then who’s taking it if not someone stealing it?”

“Could it be someone other than Jangyun Sect?”

“If it’s not them, who else is roaming all over town snatching grain? One or two times, you might think some fake medicine-peddling bastards got mixed in—but when the latrines aren’t filling, who else would be pulling that kind of shit besides them?”

“So they can’t eat what you distribute. You can’t prove it’s Jangyun Sect specifically, but... mm. Circumstances?”

Uh, what was it?

Exclude the impossible and what remains is the truth—was that it? Who said that famous line again?

Qing got briefly distracted—she could tell it was a famous quote by someone famous, but she couldn’t remember who.

And she also knew there was no way to find out, no matter how hard she thought about it—those scattered proverbs and song lyrics from home that only surfaced now and then.

Even her memories of home were getting hazier.

She felt a quick ache, and that was it—Qing shook off the wistfulness without much trouble.

“Then we’ve got no choice but to ask the people who got robbed directly. These bastards—just let them get caught.”

“Mm, Elder Sister. It won’t be easy.”

“Huh. Why?”

“We can leave, but the sick have to stay, don’t they? Then even if they’re furious and wronged, they’ll keep their mouths shut out of fear of retaliation.”

“Huh. Why?”

“If it’s Jangyun Sect, I have to say they’re using their heads. They aren’t looting every last grain, are they? They’re leaving enough that people can still live, even if they get skinny—so wouldn’t people rather keep the current situation than stir things up and make it worse?”

“Huh. Why?”

There were two ways to piss someone off: one was to stop mid-sentence—

To piss someone off, you only had to say up to there.

That was why few people knew the omitted second method:

Repeating the same thing.

Zhuge I-hyeon’s eyebrow twitched.

But only for a moment.

“What’s so hard about it? We just ask whether they took it or not. You’re saying we won’t even try from the start because it might not work?”

Zhuge I-hyeon’s mouth fell open, stupidly.

A shock like getting your head smashed from behind.

There were plenty of other reasons you wouldn’t get an answer even if you asked.

Maybe country bumpkins would be different, but in general, the more you were a commoner of a city—especially a bustling city—the less you fell for fantasies about knight-errants.

Because you easily ran into the brutality of martial artists who called themselves knight-errants.

Even the fights that broke out at inns were like that: whether it was demon lords or knight-errants, to commoners it was all the same—bastards who trashed everything and then ran off without cleaning up.

So even if Qing’s party tried to hold Jangyun Sect to account, the sick wouldn’t readily believe them and open their mouths.

And how much did commoners even know about the martial world?

If a martial artist had a sword, they were all terrifying.

Among them, an old martial artist was scarier than a young one, an unorthodox martial artist was scarier than a righteous one, an ugly-looking martial artist was scarier than a handsome one, and a crowd of martial artists was far scarier than a few.

So to commoners, Jangyun Sect’s martial artists were far more frightening than Qing’s party.

But did “it might not work” mean you shouldn’t even try?

Zhuge I-hyeon reflected deeply.

“I have committed a great blunder.”

“Yeah. Sure. If you know you were wrong, that’s enough. And—mm—feels like we can just ask, right?”

“Do you have some wise plan? Elder Sister, sometimes you are not un-clever.”

“I do. First—Daesan shows his face.”

Peng Daesan’s expression soured instantly.

“Why me?”

“Why, why? It’s a honey trap. Daesan takes off the mask and goes, gives them one look with deep eyes, lowers his voice way down—”

Qing imitated Peng Daesan’s voice.

It didn’t sound like him at all, except that she’d used every ounce of strength to force it low.

“‘Miss, your beautiful face is full of worry—my heart aches as well. May I be allowed the chance to help you? What vile bastard cast a shadow over you?’ KYAA! Like this, it’s over in one shot—they’ll even invent enemies that don’t exist and start talking!”

Peng Daesan’s expression rotted.

It was the natural reaction from a man who hated women.

“Is there a reason it has to be me for the honey trap? You—mm, no. Those over there—no. Mm.”

Peng Daesan grudgingly understood.

A honey trap wasn’t something you could pull off just because you were “pretty.”

It wasn’t even imaginable for them—acting cute, flattering a man. It simply didn’t function.

There was also Qing’s adoptive sister, Gyeon Pohee, but that wasn’t something you could just throw into your mouth casually when you didn’t even know the person well.

“What! Are you done talking now?”

“One of those,” Tang Nanna snapped, shouting.

“Two of those,” Seol Iri’s eyebrow tips rose sharply too.

“Hey, Daesan. If I thought it’d work, I’d have done it.”

Qing spoke in an apologetic voice.

She had said something awful, knowing full well Peng Daesan’s hatred of women—but wasn’t this all to build virtuous merit?

“Men get strong in front of women they’re interested in. If you ask who’s bullying them, they’ll die before they say it’s true. There’s no way they’ll cry, ‘Jangyun Sect stole our food,’ right?”

“Hmm...”

Peng Daesan fired off a bass note.

He had nothing to say, but it meant he hated it.

“I know you hate it, but can’t you just do it once? Huh? You don’t know the knight-errant’s way? Sometimes you have to endure things for justice. KYAA—this is what a knight-errant is. Cool, Daesan. Good boy, Daesan.”

If you had to say it, Qing was just imitating a kindergarten teacher back home coaxing kids.

But Peng Daesan, without realizing it, had already tugged one corner of his mouth up slightly.

That bitch only fawns when she wants something—like when she’s hungry.

Back in Luoyang, she drew the line, said it was her problem, picked a fight alone, and then ran off on her own—and now she was openly asking him to help.

It was one of those times where you thought, what can you do.

“And it’s not like we’re doing this to gain something. Whether it’s Jangyun Sect or some other trash, shouldn’t we crush the bastards feeding off people who are already suffering? Huh? Wait, thinking about it, I’m pissed again. Are these even people? There’s nothing left to steal, so they steal the sick people’s grain? Bastards who’d even squeeze tears out of chicks. If they get caught, I should just butcher them—”

She’d been doing great and then exploded with outrage, extremely naturally.

Anger that piled up in steps.

Peng Daesan let out a long, heavy sigh.