Chapter 884: The Plague Wretch Is Hiding Its Strength (3)

Dark clouds hung over the once-peaceful land of Geonpyeong.

Because acts of evil—so atrocious, so brutal, so impossible to describe even with words—kept happening without end, trampling even the most basic things that any human being should naturally be allowed to have.

Even now, look.

CLINK. The sound of porcelain bowls knocking together.

In the breath-held silence, that petty little clatter feels like it’s booming as loud as thunder.

The family sitting around the table freezes all at once like stone, unable even to breathe.

Truly, a suffocating silence!

The family, stiff with fear, rolls only their eyes back and forth, jittery, watching each other’s faces.

And then, after a long while—

“I think... it’s okay. I don’t think she’s here.”

Then—TSH! A thin hiss of air leaking between front teeth, followed by a voice dropped so low it’s almost the sound of wind.

‘Keep your voice down. Don’t make a sound.’

And once again, a silence heavy as if it weighs a thousand tons.

What kind of horrific situation is this, exactly?

Back in Qing’s hometown, there was a saying that even a dog won’t bother you while you eat, and in the Central Plains, people said eating mattered more than an emperor.

Also, humans are animals that must eat to live—so mealtime ought to be comfortable.

And yet, with food right in front of them... what is this atmosphere that goes beyond discomfort, racing straight into fear?

It was—

CREAK!

The door opened, and a hideous, wicked demon revealed itself.

“Meat...! Meeeat...!”

“Ghk!” “How—!” “No!”

As some people jolted to their feet and others toppled backward in shock, the eldest son displayed astonishing courage and sprang onto the table.

A literal human shield—he hugged the plate of Dongpo Pork and covered it with his own body, like he was saying you’d have to kill him first if you wanted to take it.

It was the kind of sacred resolve that could make even the most vicious villain feel remorse... except—

The demon seemed to have no human heart.

The demon that charged in on all fours—the Plague Wretch—grabbed the table and threw both arms up, drawing a grand arc.

The scourge that rampages across the world, first technique.

Flip the Table.

The table flew into the air, the eldest son went bouncing away, and the bowls and their contents exploded in all directions.

In the middle of it, the Plague Wretch’s hands moved, leaving afterimages—Dongpo Pork floating in midair vanished in POP POP bursts.

At the same time, the Plague Wretch’s cheeks puffed out.

What was Dongpo Pork?

After boiling an entire slab of pork, hauling it out, frying it again, then soaking it in precious yellow wine, you had to watch the fire with delicate control for a full two-hour watch—

A dish that was, truly, the crystallization of a mother’s love, a wife’s devotion, painstaking sincerity.

And now, that precious dish was evaporating.

Vanishing in a blink—no, worse. A merciless plunder that didn’t even hesitate to snatch up and stuff down the scraps that hit the floor.

“N-no...!”

The family despaired. Utter despair.

They even gave up resisting, sagging where they sat, staring with vacant faces as the dish their wife had made with devotion—spending most of her waking hours from morning through noon—disappeared.

But.

“SNIFF, SNIFF-SNIFF! Smell... delicious smell...!”

“N-no! Stop! Stop it!”

The Plague Wretch sprinted like an animal, bursting through and charging straight into the kitchen.

Then she popped the lid off the pot—

Inside was an enormous, uncut chunk of meat.

The king-piece of Dongpo Pork.

They’d thought they’d been clever—portioning out the Dongpo Pork and setting only some of it on the table, planning to give up the served portion and eat the rest later once the Plague Wretch retreated, a strategy worthy of a ghost.

But they had underestimated the Plague Wretch’s nose.

Her sense of smell had already transcended the human realm—so much so that even the world’s top dog would cover its nose and bow in respect.

A dog nose for all under heaven!

And on top of that, a dog tongue that would happily gobble down anything and call it delicious!

So much so that you couldn’t tell whether this thing was a woman or a bitch—couldn’t tell, couldn’t possibly tell.

That was the Plague Wretch.

That was Seomun Cheong.

“W-what the hell is this?! What grudge do you have against us to do this?!”

The grudge and despair over vanished Dongpo Pork burst out in a ragged voice.

But the Plague Wretch only turned slowly.

“You’ll be punished by heaven! You’ll be punished by heaven! How can a person interfere with someone eating—people say even if you hate beggars, don’t smash their bowls!”

A scene flashed through Qing’s mind.

A dumpling bun that someone had taken a bite out of and tossed aside—thrown into a slop bucket, soaked through with rotten broth until it became food waste even animals wouldn’t touch.

Even that... crouched under a narrow wall, afraid of being caught, she had shoved it down in a desperate hurry, and finally she couldn’t hold it anymore and tears spilled out—

And even then she couldn’t make a sound, choking back sobs like a mute, going ngh—ngh.

Of course, back then, she’d hidden less because of the villagers and more because of the beggars’ own cruelty.

But now the beggars were gone.

Of course, the average Geonpyeong resident hadn’t left Qing alone when she tried to pick up something to eat, either.

They’d poke at her, throw stones, or swarm in like it was entertainment and surround her, and so on.

Still, unlike beggars, they hadn’t tried to actually kill her.

So it had only been petty harassment.

So.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

For something petty—something petty.

It made no sense to start tearing limbs apart and killing people just because they’d been a bit nasty.

And the silent bystanders who had left it alone back then weren’t exactly enemies, either.

So this was perfect.

A beggar who came back without dying—Geonpyeong’s new headache—tragic up close but funny from far away, a petty revenge.

Qing sprang lightly away.

For some reason, it felt... refreshing.

If there was one regret—

Back then, she should’ve done this.

Even then, the physical ability she’d traded her charm for was already at the level of slapping most grown men in the face.

And yet she’d waited for someone to offer a hand of kindness.

She’d endured the harassment, afraid that pointless resistance would make people hate her more.

I’m pitiful, please pity me—she’d even loitered around where people could see her, like an idiot.

Of course, the fault was always Geonpyeong’s.

It was absolutely, one-sidedly the fault of Geonpyeong’s people—who were uniquely low even by the already rock-bottom standards of this primitive, ancient Central Plains.

Qing snickered and took a huge bite out of the Dongpo Pork.

The instant it touched her teeth, it felt like it melted—meat and fat so tender it dissolved.

That thick, sticky, overwhelmingly rich flavor.

It tasted like even the residue in her heart was melting away.

Wow. This house makes Dongpo Pork insanely well.

It easily smacks around most high-end inns—well, inn Dongpo Pork has to be made fast, so it can’t be simmered with this kind of care. It can’t be helped.

Qing flashed white teeth in a refreshed smile.

*****

February passed, and at last, March.

By the seasonal calendar it was already spring past the Beginning of Spring, but northern Liaoning was cold by nature.

So even at midday, water still froze, and if you wanted the ground properly thawed and to start preparing for farming, it looked like you’d need at least another month.

And it had already been more than ten days since the Plague Wretch started running wild.

So Geonpyeong’s residents were pouring into the wide courtyard of a grand estate in a huge mob, holding a denunciation rally with one heart.

Of course, Geonpyeong had no administrative seat of government.

And in places like this, a local power often acted in the government’s stead.

With the government’s tacit permission, that kind of local power might be called a local strongman clan—otherwise, they were called things like Village Head, Elder, and so on.

Geonpyeong’s Elder was Lord Oh—master of the Oh Family Manor, Oh Hakgye.

The real power who ruled Geonpyeong, the man you could call Geonpyeong’s owner.

The person the residents swarmed to whenever trouble struck and begged to fix it.

“My lord, do we really have to just watch that damned beggar bitch like this? We’re dying over here.”

“She runs in like a ghost the moment you try to make yourself a proper meal—there’s no viciousness like her viciousness.”

Adults old enough to have children of their own crowded together, whining like—she took my food, she took my food—an unbelievably petty spectacle.

But from the victim’s perspective, it wasn’t petty.

Because that Plague Wretch had Geonpyeong’s people on the verge of going insane.

Especially now, in the winter slack season—when there’s nothing to do—the only joy in the Central Plains is a single delicious meal.

And meat is truly precious in winter.

So the moment you picked a day and put together a rare special meal, somehow she’d appear like a ghost, steal the meat, and run.

And it wasn’t only meat. Even when you ate snacks, she’d show up like a ghost and steal them, too.

“She’s strong as an ox, and her toughness—she gets hit while she’s eating and just keeps eating—”

“The Plague Wretch’s toughness? She always had that. Wasn’t she the one who got beaten half to death by beggars and still stayed lively?”

“Ah, don’t even start. She hops around on all fours, and it’s like some kind of animal sickness—I don’t even want to touch her. My lord, shouldn’t we do something about her?”

“How much does she even eat? It’s not like she’s hovering at one person’s table all day—just today she hit Lord Oh at the hardware place, and the Oh house by the broom shrubs, and the Oh who weaves shoes, and the Oh who runs the tavern, and Jang who climbs the mountain, and...”

A remote village can’t help but have the character of a clan settlement.

In Geonpyeong, one out of three villagers was an Oh, and the rest were Jang and Lee—there weren’t exactly diverse surnames.

Anyway.

In the Central Plains, it wasn’t like meal times were set by national law—and in the winter slack season, it wasn’t like people went out to work on a strict schedule, either.

So meal times were whatever they felt like.

And because of that, the Plague Wretch’s plunder didn’t care about time—it went on all day long.

So even though it had only been about ten days since the Plague Wretch started rampaging, the number of victims had ballooned like a snowball.

Of course, revenge was a serious matter in the Central Plains.

But that beggar bitch was so elusive, so unpredictable.

And it wasn’t only that.

She even—

“My lord, isn’t it to the point she’s openly stealing now?!”

Geonpyeong’s residents tried using their heads.

Until that beggar bitch got tired and left, they’d stop making special meals.

If they just ate bland dumplings and stir-fried greens, wouldn’t she get sick of it and move on to another village?

It was an astonishing resolve, but—

After that, she started barging into kitchens and stealing meat that wasn’t even cooked.

And not just meat. Fish, dried fruit, pastries—she stole every expensive ingredient in sight.

Even sugar and honey.

Even if you hid it tight, she’d find it like a ghost and run off with it.

Now they had no choice. By force, unwillingly, inevitably—greens in rice, greens in dumplings, greens in soy-sauce noodles.

You can’t cook anything without ingredients!

“Hmm.”

Oh Hakgye let out an uncomfortable groan.

Combine that groan with a slightly annoyed look—plus a gaze that also looked like he was watching something pitiful, or maybe something stupid—

And it turned into an expression that said: what kind of pathetic idiots are you?

Geonpyeong’s people shrank their shoulders.

This was how frightening the Plague Wretch’s revenge was.

It was deadly serious to them, but from far away it was unbelievably petty.

If they complained elsewhere, they’d just become the idiots who couldn’t handle one beggar bitch and got their tables cleaned out.

The crimes made their teeth grind and their anger boil over, but they couldn’t even talk about it anywhere.

People said fighting over food was the most miserable thing of all—and Geonpyeong’s people were exactly that.

Petty, but not petty.

At the same time filthy and disgusting—and yet horrifying.

This was Qing’s revenge.

Of course, separate from how petty it was, the filthiness was on a level that made you think: how does a person become this filthy?

“No, if it’s cold and the ground isn’t thawed and you’ve got nothing to do anyway, why not grab clubs and go catch her? Why are you all piling in here making a scene?”

“My lord, do you think we didn’t? But the moment you roll up your sleeves, she somehow knows and hides—her sense for it is ghostlike.”

Of course they’d grabbed clubs and run out—special-meal revenge, meat grudge, all of it.

They’d stalked the town with murderous eyes, saying they’d smash that Plague Wretch’s shins today, break her teeth out today.

But.

You had to see her to do anything.

It was enough to make ghosts cry.

“TSK TSK. One beggar, and a woman at that, and you’re all trembling like this—what, you came running to tattle like little kids? You people, honestly.”

Geonpyeong’s residents dropped their heads low.

But only for a moment.

At the next words, they all snapped their heads up.

“Hoo. That said, I can’t just ignore you when you’re upset and suffering. Fine. I’ll send my fighters out to catch her and bring her in. After that, whether you boil her into soup or slice her into sashimi, you can handle it yourselves. Satisfied?”

How could someone keep their position as a local power if they lost the people’s hearts?

Of course, they could.

There were plenty of bastard dogs who grabbed a blade and ruled a region through cruelty and evil.

But Oh Hakgye wasn’t that sort.

And like countless Oh clans, if you opened the genealogy and went far enough up, it all merged into one anyway.

And with other surnames, wasn’t the wife an Oh, or at least one of the two mothers an Oh?

They weren’t strangers.

Geonpyeong’s residents folded at the waist.

“My lord, thank you.”

“It really is only you, Elder.”

“We’re grateful from the heart, always. Heh.”

And they exchanged looks with each other.

Now it was done—once they caught her, how exactly should they twist her, what would make the story spread the loudest across the world, and so on.

Already, as if it were solved, they were gulping down scorched rice water.

Well, that was only natural.

In this world, who could imagine it—no matter how smart they were?

That the Plague Wretch was hiding her strength.