Chapter 966: It’s Me, You Fuckers (2)

The Central Plain’s dining tables were loud.

Because for people of the Central Plain, a meal wasn’t just eating—it was also a social space, a place to mingle and tighten bonds.

Of course, that kind of dining culture wasn’t awkward for Qing.

She was the type to keep talking while she ate, too.

Sure, back in Qing’s hometown, there had been a time when speaking at the table was taboo.

More precisely, it was that suffocating, rigid, top-down class society kind of dining culture.

People below weren’t allowed to speak—they could only answer when questioned. People above treated it as a virtue to “give blessings” that were really just lectures, and make everyone below uncomfortable.

But that had become an old custom a long time ago. By the time Qing left the mountain, her hometown had already reached a mature culture where talkers talked and eaters ate—and nobody bothered policing it. If you wanted to talk, talk. If you didn’t, don’t. There was no point in arguing about whether it was “allowed.”

Anyway.

In the Central Plain, conversation was an essential ingredient of a meal.

If anything, the rude thing was not talking—sitting at the same table with your mouth clamped shut while you just shovel food?

To people of the Central Plain, that was one of the clearest ways to broadcast, I’m unhappy with you.

Here was Kim Heojung.

Kim Heojung wasn’t from the Central Plain, but he’d spent most of his life with his master—and his master had been a Central Plain man.

So he had no choice but to read the room: Qing was eating quietly.

Not that he ate quietly—his nom-nom and smack-smack were loud as ever—but today, Qing was only eating.

Why wasn’t Qing talking?

Had the Confucian dragon of her hometown—sleeping deep inside her—suddenly woken up?

Yeah, no. Her head was just a mess.

Because she couldn’t stop thinking about why this sudden dogshit about Essence-Siphoning Demon Art was popping up again.

So she was just going to smash the food in front of her and organize her thoughts as she ate.

Kim Heojung, not knowing any of that, watched her mood for a while—then tried to pry open a conversation, carefully.

“So they say the Four Knowings... I suppose there truly is no such thing as a secret in this world.”

“Huh?”

“The Essence-Siphoning Demon Art, I mean. How could we have known the news would spread so quickly? And even here, deep in the Central Plain... if people already know at this distance, then nothing is faster than rumor. It’s frightening, isn’t it?”

“No, what—”

“But rumors are like that. An evil essence-siphoning demon witch? Your hand is cruel beyond words—merciless, vicious, so dreadful it’s hard to even say aloud—but to call you evil, hm?”

Kim Heojung muttered under his breath, like he was finishing the thought.

Then that means you’re evil, doesn’t it?

A vein popped in Qing’s forehead.

What was this? Was he picking a fight?

Qing held it in.

Because she’d already gotten the general measure of the guy.

She must’ve accidentally looked complicated. He was probably trying—in his own way—to comfort her.

A key trait of an oblivious person: they’re oblivious.

“It’s not Essence-Siphoning Demon Art.”

“Ah. I misspoke. I meant the Star-Siphoning Great Method.”

“It’s not that either.”

“Then... Essence-Siphoning Divine Art?”

“......”

Even through her face veil, it felt like an annoyed glare was leaking out, so Kim Heojung tried swapping terms again.

“Star-Siphoning Divine Art?”

“......”

“Is the character siphon a bad one...? Then how about Seed-Extraction Divine Art?”

A vein popped again in Qing’s forehead.

“Damn it. You think changing the name makes demonic arts into divine arts? What I learned is something else. Completely different. It’s not Essence-Siphoning Demon Art.”

“A martial art that extracts another person’s essence—no, demonic art—was there one besides Essence-Siphoning Demon Art?”

“Yeah. There is. Why?”

“Hm. So there was......”

He had this vibe of, Fine, if you insist, then I guess it is.

Qing let out a long sigh.

“Essence-Siphoning Demon Art sucks down someone else’s internal power, wrecks the harmony of it, and then you fall into Demon Deviation. You become more and more of a demonic practitioner, so it’s called demonic arts. What I learned doesn’t do that. It’s clean.”

“A martial art like that exists?”

“There are martial arts where you do some weird dance and water starts gushing out and ice forms. Why wouldn’t something like this exist too?”

“A weird dance... that. Hm. It is a weird dance. Extremely bizarre.”

Kim Heojung had been about to protest, then abruptly nodded in agreement.

Thinking back, he’d clearly been full of complaints about that damned Black Warrior Dance’s grotesque movements too—so why would he defend it? If anything, he’d join in cursing it.

“Ah. So because you learned a counterfeit version of Essence-Siphoning Demon Art, you’re being treated like an essence-siphoning demon witch—and that’s what upset you. Is that correct?”

Counterfeit, meaning: similar, but not the same.

So “counterfeit Essence-Siphoning Demon Art” meant a martial art that resembled Essence-Siphoning Demon Art, but wasn’t the same.

...Yeah, the wording still irritated her.

If anything, a counterfeit Northern Abyss Divine Art should be the Essence-Siphoning Demon Art—not the other way around. What she learned was way better—

But Qing shook her head.

“No. I don’t really care that much what people say, to begin with. As long as they’re not acting fake in my face and trying to scrape at me—whatever. People can talk behind someone’s back.”

That was just Qing’s nature.

She wouldn’t tolerate someone scraping at her face-to-face, but people who whispered behind backs? Those types never changed. They just didn’t realize the world already treated them like backbiters.

If she truly hated gossip, she would’ve started by crushing the guys who shouted nonsense nicknames—who yelped things like “three-headed beauty” and threw fits and then slipped in filthy little comments under their breath.

So no, the gossip about “essence-siphoning demon witch” wasn’t the part that truly got under her skin.

What pissed her off was the Blood Cult’s dirty work.

Because who else would spread a malicious rumor like this, if not those Blood Cult bastards?

It sounded like they’d decided to start firing carrier pigeons the moment she got home, spreading it everywhere.

If she’d known this was coming, she should’ve asked Chunbong for advice back when she stopped by the Martial Alliance.

In times like this, the smartest move was to ask someone smart.

And luckily, even in Hubei, there existed a brain sharp enough to glare up at the world itself—Hubei Province, Wuhan, the Zhuge Family’s heir, the Brain of Faithful Mystery, Zhuge Yi-hyeon! ...No, not him.

Someone more reliable, clearer, and closer was right there.

The most beautiful man in the Central Plain!

A natural beauty so heartbreakingly delicate!

That Seol Family bastard—also known as Seol Garyeon—wasn’t he the top genius of the Three Cities?

Yeah. She had to stop by the Seol Family Trading House anyway to see the old man.

She’d ask that Seol Family bastard once.

*****

There was a joke people told in the martial world.

“Famous assassin group.”

Because assassins lived off grudges. If they got famous, it wouldn’t take long before someone formed an extermination party and wiped them off the map.

So the leaders of assassin groups poured their lives into reputation management. If they got too famous, they all died. If nobody knew their name, business dried up.

That was why the so-called Central Plain’s Five Great Assassin Groups rotated and updated at a brutally fast rate.

And how many cycles you survived—how many updates you lived through—was the most accurate indicator of an assassin group’s real skill.

By that measure, there was one assassin group everyone in the Central Plain acknowledged as the strongest.

The strongest, most vicious assassin group—one that had not once fallen out of the Central Plain’s Five Great Assassin Groups for more than a hundred years.

Its name was Slay-Heaven Citadel.

Slay-Heaven Citadel’s infamy was widely known.

They said it was made up only of first-rate masters and above—and that most of them were Supreme Peak masters.

They said they were true experts of killing work, who had never failed an assassination even once—so the moment you commissioned Slay-Heaven Citadel, you might as well treat the target as already dead.

Of course, it was bizarre.

Because generally speaking, masters didn’t become assassins.

Once you became a master, why would you bother doing assassination work?

You didn’t even need to be an absolute monster—if you simply entered Supreme Peak, you’d be treated like royalty and live in luxury.

If a Supreme Peak worked as a guard, that was elite escort work. If you hired one as an instructor, that was a premium instructor. If one wanted to live as a “guest,” wealthy people everywhere would beg: Please come. Even if one opened a martial school, they could bankrupt every school in town.

That was why you could find masters who had once been assassins... but a master who was a current assassin was extremely rare.

Rare—but not nonexistent.

Because there were crazy bastards who did it simply because they loved killing people.

Killing people and getting paid for it? That’s insanely sweet. Two birds, one stone—job for life!

Maybe it was a road Qing never took. Maybe it could’ve been a future that might’ve happened.

Anyway.

That was why some people insisted Slay-Heaven Citadel didn’t exist—that it was a fictional assassin group born from Central Plain bragging.

A mysterious assassin group so secret that nobody even knew how to contact them—where would it get enough revenue to feed so many masters?

But Slay-Heaven Citadel did exist.

Because the very existence of the Lord of Slay-Heaven Citadel was proof.

And his realm was early Harmonization Realm.

He’d already been a late Supreme Peak master, but in the past few years he’d gained enlightenment and stepped into Harmonization Realm.

It wasn’t Demon Deviation.

It was the realm of harmony—Harmonization Realm.

An assassin who had reached Harmonization Realm... it was terrifying beyond words.

If you weren’t a peerless master, who could possibly withstand the blade of such an assassin?

And so, the Harmonization Realm assassin Ak Jeongwi was currently in the middle of a mission—his blood-red gaze blazing as he sprinted forward at full speed.

A vile smile curled at the corner of Ak Jeongwi’s mouth.

Was he chasing prey that was fleeing?

The hardships of the past months flashed through his mind.

Ak Jeongwi’s mission had been an unbroken chain of endurance.

For half a year, he had disguised himself as a poor soup-porter, waiting for a target who might appear at any time.

It had been time spent swallowing things he didn’t want to swallow: savage turf wars between porters, filthy customers whining about how the soup tasted bad or the cooking wasn’t even, forcing himself to endure it—enduring while dodging beggars who were always looking for a chance to steal the soup.

Because he couldn’t reveal his true ability, he had been forced to “experience” a lowborn life—an era of grinding hardship......

And then, at last, when he finally found the target—

That swelling, overwhelming thrill in that moment!

Finally! Finally you have come!

Master of my life! Light of my life!

A divinity descends—ten thousand people bow in worship!

Former Lord of Slay-Heaven Citadel, current Lord of Bongcheon Citadel—Ak Jeongwi!

On a secret welcome mission!

This was a mission of tremendous importance.

If that person suddenly entered the holy sanctuary, it would become a disaster.

The cultists—unprepared for Spirit Descent—would be driven into confusion. Countless cultists would faint on the spot, and some might even lose control and commit acts of worship in the wrong way.

So the fastest among them had to guard the four directions, detect that person’s return, and race back first to report it.

A burden-heavy mission beyond words.

And so—Jagwi County would awaken first, before Qing even arrived, and begin moving in frantic bustle.

They had to hurry and clear away the shrine hall for “the divinity-reborn priestess” Seomun Cheong.

They had to clamp down on the fervent believers who knew Qing’s true identity and run “mental education” on them.

Everyone wanted to disguise it as a “chance encounter” and present offerings, so they had to re-check the order and the movement routes one more time, again and again......

Seomun Cheong.

Time until her arrival in Jagwi County: about one and a half shichen.