Chapter 803: I Don’t Like This Trend (7)

Peng Daesan was in a foul mood.

Why was he in a foul mood?

To Peng Daesan, women were objects of contempt.

Vile leeches who forced their feelings on him based on nothing but appearance.

If Qing had heard that, she would’ve blown her top and laughed in his face—like, sure, because obviously every woman in the world only cared about looks.

But at least for Peng Daesan, it was true.

Because among women, the kind of obsessive, loud-mouthed pack that clung to him like this—those particularly rabid few—were almost the whole of what “women” meant to him.

After all, the overwhelming majority of women who had no interest in him, or who merely took one look and went, “Wow, a face!” and backed off satisfied with the spectacle—Peng Daesan couldn’t even know whether they existed in the first place.

If you traveled to a foreign country, and all ten out of ten people you met were wearing torn clothes—

At the very least, you’d have no choice but to conclude that the people of this country just went around wearing torn clothes as a rule.

That was why Peng Daesan was in a foul mood.

Having to hide his true feelings and fawn over someone he despised—how could that not be uncomfortable?

And that damned Seomun Cheong, too.

How could she ask him to do something this humiliating when she knew exactly what was in his heart?

Even if it was for an act of chivalry, there were limits.

The more he thought about it, the more the heat climbed into his head.

“Come on, come on, lift your face. How’s this going to work if you’re scowling like that? Come on. Move out.”

“Ha.”

“Come on. Hurry.”

Qing’s nagging was so irritating it was unreal.

“Is anyone there? I’ve got something to ask.”

Then the door to the house opened cautiously.

A tired woman’s face flashed into view, for a split second—

“Hk.”

The gate slammed shut again with a BANG.

“No good. Let’s go back.”

Peng Daesan turned around on the spot.

—J-Just, just a moment, please wait!

A hurried voice answered back.

And after about a cup of tea’s worth of time, the door opened again.

“I greet the great hero. Why do you seek this young woman?”

In the meantime, she’d neatly combed her hair, and though the colors were faded, she’d put on fine clothing and stepped out demurely.

Qing shook her head side to side.

Yeah, she even powdered her face in the meantime.

It’s over. It’s over.

Qing signaled Peng Daesan.

It was a look that couldn’t even properly reach through the face veil, but somehow, by the way she turned her head, it got through anyway.

Peng Daesan’s brow didn’t so much as relax.

He stared silently, as if his mouth couldn’t bring itself to open—and then, at last, one word.

“Hm.”

A deeply uncomfortable low-frequency curse fired off.

The woman suddenly covered her mouth.

Because the woman was exhausted.

Caring for parents sick with the strange plague, with no improvement in sight.

No promise of when the blockade would be lifted.

And even the grain the Lord Physician bestowed—terrifying unorthodox sect swordsmen took half of it every time, and after offering what she could to her sick parents, there was almost nothing left. She was so hungry her strength itself was draining away.

When a person is trapped in circumstances they cannot overcome with their own luck and will, they can’t help but begin to look to divine salvation.

And now, the dashing great hero from the stories had appeared with light around his face—what relief, {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} what sorrow!

And as stories always went, an impossible grace, repaid by devoting an entire life—inside the woman’s head, in an instant, there were six children, and the children married and each had children, and a huge family reaching eighty all gathered, laughing and smiling together for no reason at all in a harmonious vision...!

“Khk, great hero...!”

The woman suddenly lunged forward with reddened eyes!

As Peng Daesan’s expression froze solid, she flung herself—shamelessly, fearlessly—straight into his arms.

Ah... how... how warmly... how softly you hold me, and even your stroking hand is cool...

Soft? Cool?

The woman lifted her head—and beneath the veil, a slender, sharp jawline was faintly visible.

Even looking up from below, the angle that makes anyone look their ugliest, his beauty was still abnormal.

And then a gentle woman’s voice.

“My goodness. You must have been through something hard.”

“Uh, w-who... are you.”

“Now, now. It’s okay. When someone’s mentally cornered, they can need comfort without even realizing it.”

“No, why are you—let go, please.”

“Now, now. No matter how hard it is, you shouldn’t just throw yourself at a married man. People’s tongues are terrifying. I’m scared someone might see.”

“No, why are you worrying about—”

“It’s okay. You must have been so overwhelmed,”

“Wait, let go. Hey.”

“Now, now. Even grown-ups need comfort sometimes. If there’s something hard, tell me everything.”

“No, what strength—”

“There, there. There are guys bullying you, right? It’s okay—tell me. I’ll teach them a lesson.”

The woman tried to wriggle free with a subtle burst of strength, but Qing was a master of the Flower-River Realm.

Even if she weren’t, her raw strength was already beyond human anyway—so no matter how hard the woman struggled, there was simply no way out.

So for a while, wriggle wriggle.

Not grappling, not squabbling—just wriggle wriggle. And even that description only worked if Qing moved at all.

The woman was stuck like she’d been wedged against a massive boulder, unable to budge.

In the end, she ran out of strength.

The woman sagged limp in Qing’s arms.

Qing grinned and ruffled the woman’s head, scritch scritch.

“Now, if there’s something hard, let it all out. If you keep it bottled up, that just turns into sickness, too. Come on—don’t make it hard. How have things been lately?”

The woman spilled everything.

At first she hesitated, unable to hide her discomfort, talking about her parents suddenly falling ill with the strange plague, and her worries about her older brother who’d left to earn money for medicine—

But once she’d said it out loud, she truly choked up, and in the end, she vomited it all out.

And they heard Jangyun Sect’s atrocities clearly, too.

They cut off half of the grain being distributed.

Thankfully, because the Lord Physician had increased the amount of grain he distributed by a lot, even after they cut off half, people could at least avoid starving.

You bastards—how dare you lie to me? You’re all dead.

And it wasn’t even that she’d said she’d kill them.

She was going to be kind and only cripple them—

But now an extra charge had been added for sheer insolence.

Now you’re really all dead.

And so, once again: Jangyun Sect. The gate.

BANG BANG BANG!

The pounding on the gate was immense.

Because Qing was, literally, a human battering ram. If she put her mind to it, a manor gate like this would shatter in one hit.

But the fact that it was echoing as a booming sound meant she was still keeping mercy in her hands—for now.

Why?

Was it because her blazing carpenter’s soul couldn’t bring itself to destroy something she’d repaired with her own hands once?

—Who is it!

—W-What is this!

Of course not.

Qing’s knocking was a kind greeting.

I’m coming in, so hurry up and gather.

And so for a while—BANG BANG BANG, BANG BANG BANG, BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG—at a strangely cheerful rhythm, the sound of the door being wrecked rang out.

How long did it go on, loud enough to rattle the whole neighborhood?

Qing put sincerity into it and thrust both palms out.

BANG!

The gate burst apart, scattering into splinters.

Under the hanging plaque, Qing’s group strode in openly.

Because she’d hammered away for quite a long time and given them time, the manor’s front yard was already ringed by Jangyun Sect fighters with swords drawn, in formation.

In the middle, a vicious-looking giant holding a great saber—Jangyun Sect’s leader, Cho Samil—bellowed.

“W-What is the meaning of this outrage! Even if we said we’ve closed the gates, do you think we’ll endure this kind of lawlessness!”

“Closed the gates, my ass. Robber bastards sucking the marrow out of pitiful patients—what ‘closed the gates’! I heard everything. What, you swore on your parents’ names? You swear on your mother and father and lie? What kind of trash bastard even is this?”

“W-What!”

Cho Samil’s face flushed scarlet.

In the Central Plains, filial piety was no small matter.

That was why “trash bastard” was one of the most severe insults a person could throw at another.

Of course, Cho Samil, who’d boldly told a blatant lie on his parents’ names, was exactly that.

But even if it was true, shouting it right to his face—on top of that, in front of his subordinates—was a different matter entirely.

“Y-You dog-bitch, you dare—! I was going to let it slide nicely, but words won’t do with you!”

“Oh, you won’t do it with words? I’m terrified. Wow. So. Scary. But hold on. Everyone, look here. Sparkle sparkle.”

Qing lifted her sword high and scattered starlight.

Sword energy. A cold blade that made your chest ache on sight.

It was ridiculous behavior, but Cho Samil couldn’t laugh.

Sword energy? That veiled woman is a supreme pinnacle master?

Qing’s antics didn’t end there.

“As if that’s all! Sparkle sparkle, one!”

“Sparkle sparkle, two!”

Gyeon Pohee—wearing her special brand of vacant and slutty, bright and yet seductive, obscene-idiot smile—lifted her hand.

Deep pink, bewitching peach-blossom starlight.

Before anyone knew it, there were two lights.

“Sparkle sparkle, three.”

No—three.

On the opposite side, Seol Iri had already formed an ice sword and raised it, releasing a dazzling white sword energy.

Qing’s head snapped toward Peng Daesan.

Peng Daesan’s bamboo hat flicked left and right in a short shake.

No.

Qing’s veil shook, too.

Do it.

A moment later, with a tongue-click of tsk, a fourth starlight bloomed—thin saber energy wrapping a narrow short saber.

Cho Samil blinked.

Then, like an old man with failing eyes, he craned his neck forward to stare, then even rubbed his eyes—

But the sword energy, self-radiant with four different colors, did not vanish.

Cho Samil’s heart dropped.

Unlike the past, supreme pinnacle masters were fairly common.

With the overall rise in martial learning levels, even a small city usually had at least one master who could emit sword energy.

Big cities might have three or four.

And how many cities were there across the Central Plains?

But even if supreme pinnacle masters were “common” across the whole Central Plains, there was no way a small-time unorthodox sect would have one.

Of course, with no master before numbers, if you bet the sect’s survival and rushed in with all your force, you could try something against one—

Which meant that to face even one supreme pinnacle master, you had to concentrate the sect’s entire martial power.

But four?

This was... no matter how you looked at it, it was too much.

Cho Samil’s back went damp.

“Uh, th-that... It seems there’s been some misunderstanding. We—would you not, please, settle this with dialogue...?”

“Didn’t you say words wouldn’t do?”

“It’s a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding. Not words—what I meant was I’d like to speak properly...”

Cho Samil became polite.

Because there weren’t many martial artists who wouldn’t become polite in front of four supreme pinnacle masters.

At the very least, if you were within the same supreme pinnacle range, you’d want to use your tongue instead of your blade.

“Misunderstanding? You said it well. What misunderstanding? You said you’d closed the gates. You said you were too ashamed to do it.”

“That is! I clearly forbade it, but there must be men who disobeyed my order. How dare they—what bastards! I swear on my honor, I will dig them out by the roots and punish them as an example—”

“Ah. Individual deviation? The sect leader ordered them not to, but disobedient subordinates did it on their own?”

“Y-Yes!”

Qing tilted her head.

“Why is that ‘individual deviation’? If sect members commit a crime, you hold the sect leader responsible. Isn’t that why a sect leader exists? Or is a sect leader just someone who sits up top and gives orders?”

“Th-Then what should this lowly one do—”

“First, I cut the tendons in your legs.”

Qing cut Cho Samil off cold.

Then she added one more line.

“And you dared lie to me? For the crime of insolence, I smash your lower abdomen, too.”