Chapter 913: Tripitaka Master and the Thief of Benevolence and Righteousness (6)

The road cutting through town toward the government office.

At the untimely commotion, anxious eyes rose between the cracks of thatched doors, peering out.

Only little kids—who didn’t yet know the fear of the world, the cruelty of grown-ups—occasionally came out, throwing curious looks.

A child half-hiding behind a thin fence woven from twigs, only half their body peeking.

[“Hey—get inside, now! What are you doing?”]

The mother startled, yanked the child into her arms, and hurriedly vanished back into the thatched house.

Even so, over the mother’s shoulder, the child craned their neck.

Yellowed skin. Young cheeks that should’ve been firm with baby fat were sunken in, gaunt. Lips cracked and dry. Hair just as dry, dull—so thin you could see the yellow scalp between sparse strands.

A textbook starving child.

When Qing first found Jayeo, she’d looked exactly like that.

And then, up ahead—the government office appeared. Or, in the proper name, the County Hall, the local administrative seat of Joseon towns.

And with it, the symbol of the County Hall—

The Outer Triple Gate.

The Outer Triple Gate was built like this: the first level was the gate itself, and the second level was an open, wall-less hall—wide and airy—with pillars supporting a tiled roof above.

And on that second level sat a huge drum for no reason at all.

That drum—the famous Appeal Drum, the one you were supposed to strike when you had grievances.

Yet even now, when everyone was starving and wronged to the point they’d become “monsters,” what came down from that hall wasn’t a drumbeat at all—

It was a languid, eerie string tone: THUNG-THUNG, THUNG-THUNG-THUNG—slow, trembling, and sly.

Hahaha. Heeheehee.

Bright laughter spilling from the second-level banquet above the gate.

SNIIFF.

A clean, oily scent wrapped softly around Qing’s nose—chicken broth boiled so long the bones were melting.

The center of Qing’s brow split.

These “monster bandits” had given up the very shape of people and gone out to rob just to live—and here, at the County Hall, they weren’t even eating inside.

They were drinking and feasting on top of the front gate, music playing, women tucked into their sides.

And as if that weren’t enough, the whole town was starving...and there weren’t even soldiers posted below.

It was almost impressive.

What—were they really going to be this openly evil?

Qing stared up at the Outer Triple Gate, dumbfounded—then turned around and scanned the faces of the “monsters.”

Embarrassment, anger, resignation—one-third each.

But there wasn’t a trace of surprise anywhere.

Which meant this wasn’t the first time.

“Damn. I thought the Central Plain was number one at producing bastard officials, but Joseon’s got some talent too, huh?”

Even the Plunderer Demon—Blood Cult scum that he was—was impressed.

Qing climbed off her horse and motioned to the pack.

[“All right. Quietly follow behind me. Today we’re going to crack those bastards’ skulls open.”]

She strode toward the stairs tucked in a corner under the Outer Triple Gate.

In one sweep, she climbed into the upper banquet hall—

Originally, it was a raised pavilion, a place where the Appeal Drum sat and edicts were announced.

But with a banquet in full swing, calling it a banquet hall wasn’t wrong.

Men sat on cushions cross-legged, women tucked at their sides, individual drinking tables set before each of them.

Even in this moment, Qing’s eyes swept the side dishes on the tables.

...Huh. I’m looking at the snacks first without even thinking.

Chicken simmered till tender, a few golden pan-fried slices, tofu with white kimchi, cylinder rice cakes, and little saucers of honey and soy sauce.

Modest fare, sure.

But the bandits out there were nothing but bones with skin on them—and these high lords had laid out food and were guzzling alcohol, plucking some zither-like instrument while they drank with women at their sides.

Mm.

Animals.

Excellent. You pass.

They were having so much fun that they didn’t even notice Qing until she came all the way up—and the “monster” pack began filing in behind her.

[“Kyaa!”]

[“W-what is this—how dare you come here!”]

A few seated far from the place of honor sprang up and jabbed fingers at Qing.

Meanwhile the men in the center just stared down at her with smug, stiff politeness—like they were too refined to shout.

[“You men—what are you doing? Drag her ou—”]

DEEEENG!

A sudden, deep temple-bell ring.

At the same time—

CRACK!

One of the pavilion pillars abruptly lost its middle, leaving a savage, torn cross-section—splintered above and below.

Every head snapped toward the pillar—then to Qing—then back to the pillar—

GULP.

The loud sound of swallowing.

[“Anyone else want to talk?”]

Mouths shut.

[“I am Seomun Cheong of the Central Plain. I was traveling to Changbai, and a pack of monsters blocked my path and tried to rob me for my horse. I drove them back and pressed them, and they said the officials here ordered them to do it. I’m far from worthy of being called a righteous hero, but even so—don’t you agree that for the world’s sake, a bandit chief is better off dead than alive?”]

The faces of the officials and clerks went paper-white.

Meaning the masquerade bandits had grabbed the wrong target.

There was something called the martial world in the Central Plain, wasn’t there?

People who learned mystical martial arts without even asking the state for permission.

[“So. You in the center—you're the highest-ranking one. Do you have any excuses?”]

[“Th-there seems to be...a misunderstanding. Those masquerade bandits are not people of our town. We have attempted to suppress them before, but they are elusive beyond measure, and we could not capture them. Even now, we can immediately mobilize soldiers and arrest them all—”]

[“Ah. So you don’t know them?”]

She tipped her chin toward the “monsters” behind her.

[“That’s what he says. Thoughts?”]

[“Y-you—!”] [“That fucking bastard!”] [“That’s the county magistrate!”]

The “monsters” poured out curses, pointing with eyes blazing.

The county magistrate’s face hardened in an instant.

[“Shut your mouths! How dare filthy lowborns disgrace their elders! Do you want to die?!”]

Oh.

Strong against the weak, weak against the strong.

He’d been groveling in front of her, but the moment the “monsters” cursed him, look how fast he snapped.

And as if by reflex, the “monsters” clamped their mouths shut and hunched their shoulders.

It couldn’t be helped.

When you’ve been oppressed by authority and force for a long time, you don’t just lose the courage to resist—you lose the shape of it.

If it was like that even in Qing’s old world, then what did you expect in this primitive ancient society with an even sharper gulf of status?

[“Enough. The people are starving into walking skeletons, and they turn to banditry just to survive—while you officials sit with women, eating good food, throwing a drinking party—”]

“Thith chicken’th no good, gulp. It’th dry and tough—like chewing plain cloth. I chew and chew and it’th still the same. My jaw’th gonna break. Mm. It’th noth good.”

Somewhere along the way, Gongryang Sayoon had grabbed the chicken-broth bowl and was chewing while adding useless commentary.

Qing pretended she hadn’t heard a word.

“[—You people do nothing even if you live, and you only cause harm. You’d be better off gone than existing in this world.]”

[“Th-this is Joseon’s business!”]

[“Joseon’s business? Then shall I make it Joseon and the Central Plain’s business? A Joseon official ordering the people to harm a Central Plain traveler? This place is Pungcheong, yes?”]

The county magistrate’s face went even whiter.

The Central Plain cared about “face” the way they cared about oxygen.

If this became public, they couldn’t let it slide—on principle.

And the county magistrate was only one local official among countless local officials.

If the Central Plain raged, the court would chop his head off and offer it up to soothe them.

[“I-it wasn’t—th-th-that—M-my lord! I, Choi, have made a grievous mistake!”]

The county magistrate slammed his forehead down without warning.

Looks like he finally understood: dead either way.

The speed with which he chose to prostrate himself was almost...impressive.

But there was no way she could come this far and just say, Sure. Let’s do better, and leave.

The odds of him suddenly turning into a benevolent, people-loving official were laughably low.

And if Qing left like this, the “monsters” who’d followed her would get punished—properly, brutally.

So.

She wasn’t sorry, not even a little—but a bastard who deserved to die was better off dying, for the world and for her.

Just look at the evil piling up here.

Compared to this, Central Plain officials were practically clean-handed saints.

Qing’s mouth pulled into a crooked grin.

[“Then let’s do this. I’ll give you a riddle. If you answer correctly, I’ll pretend none of this happened.”]

[“M-my lord—”]

[“All right. A duck is a duck, but it can’t fly. What duck is it? Answer.”]

It felt like you could hear brains grinding.

And when the county magistrate darted glances around, the grinding got even more frantic.

A moment later—

[“It seems none of you can solve it. The answer is—”]

[“Wait! I know! I know! A duck is a duck but it can’t fly—it's a corrupt official! A corrupt official, isn’t it?!”]

Qing stopped moving.

The “monsters” exchanged looks.

He got it, right? He got it. That’s the answer. That’s the answer.

“Damn it...”

Qing scratched the back of her head.

Some bastard with zero sense for the mood.

She whipped her head around—and a long-faced man with a goat beard stared at her with eyes full of hope.

[“My lady—corrupt official. That’s it, isn’t it?”]

[“Yes! Corrupt official! That’s right! It’s corrupt official!”]

The corrupt officials started giggling like they’d been saved.

Qing let out a long, heavy sigh—

[“Wrong.”]

[“W-what? My lady, but a duck is a duck and it can’t fly—corrupt official is correct, isn’t it?”]

[“That is not my answer.”]

[“B-but, my lady...a riddle, if it makes sense, then by the nation’s law it counts as the answer, doesn’t it...?”]

[“It doesn’t make sense to begin with.”]

The “monsters” exchanged looks again.

She’s forcing it, right? She’s forcing it. She’s definitely forcing it.

[“How does it not make sense? A duck is a duck but it can’t fly—since a corrupt official can’t fly, it should count as—”]

[“A corrupt official can fly.”]

[“...Pardon?”]

[“A corrupt official can fly.”]

[“My lady, how could a corrupt official possibly fly? That makes no—Ghk—!”]

The man who’d been arguing, indignant, made a strangled sound and kicked in the air.

Because at some point Qing had slipped right up in front of him, grabbed his throat, and lifted him.

And then she roared, out of nowhere—

[“A CORRUPT OFFICIAL CAN FLY! BECAUSE! DUCKS CAN FLY!”]

[“Ghk—w-what—”]

[“Silence! A corrupt official can fly! Take off—into that sky! I’ll become a wonderful moon! Nothing is impossible!”]

With both hands Qing clamped down on his throat.

She pivoted on her front foot—SPIN.

Stepped through with her back foot—SPIN.

RAP-RAP-RAP-RAP—footsteps pounding, the rotation building with the speed, whipping faster and faster—

[“NOW! FLY! DREAMS! COME TRUE!”]

With a thunderous shout, she hurled him high into the sky in one huge motion.

“AAAAAAGH!!”

He floated up on a gentle, near-straight diagonal.

A corrupt official—flying.

Aaaaaaaaaaah...

The county magistrate’s scream shrank fast into the distance.

Qing dusted her hands off—PAT, PAT—and turned around.

Aaaaaaaagh...!

The scream came rushing back from behind her.

Looks like even with all that help, he couldn’t stay airborne for long.

Still.

He did fly, didn’t he?

That counted as flight, didn’t it?

With the county magistrate, clerks, and landlords staring at Qing with faces as white as paper—

Behind Qing, still dusting off her hands, far away, a human-shaped figure dropped straight down—THUD—toward the ground.