823 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

"They're, they're all dead? They were just ordinary people who didn't even know martial arts. They were simply grateful to have three meals a day and live under a roof that didn't leak. You mean to say you killed those poor souls who finally managed to live like humans..." The voice of the Head of the Zheng Clan quivered slightly. With his forehead pressed onto the ground, it was impossible to see his expression. However, from the fine tremor and dampness in his voice, one could easily guess the turmoil in his heart. Yet, Qing's eyebrows twitched. Ordinary people don't create poisons using human corpses. Even going so far as to manufacture the corpses themselves. Did they claim they enabled them to live like humans? Did they think they were some virtuous protectors, claiming such humanitarian spirit, when in fact they were about feeding off human carnage? But this wasn't the time for such discussions. It wasn't about determining who was right or wrong; it was a slaughterhouse for executing Blood Cult disciples. "Humans? Where are there any humans in the Blood Cult? There's only vermin. The only good Blood Cultist is a dead one. I merely rendered them more virtuous. Those vermin of the Blood Cult are probably thanking me from hell right now, even though they must be rotating through the eight hells for their sins. But I at least prevented them from committing more grave sins, didn't I?" "Sins, you say? What right do you have to speak of sins? You are the sinners. You from Zhongyuan are the worst murderers." "Wow, vermin sure have a lot to say, huh?" "So, are you saying we should just obediently perish? Do you have any idea how our people live? No, that's not living. It's just being herded. No, not even that; not even livestock is treated like this." "Because you aren't even livestock-grade worms?" "Do you even know what you Zhongyuan people have done to us? Just because we are descendants of traitors, you pushed us to the most barren lands. You blocked the rivers with dams so we couldn't farm, and if we tried to leave to survive, you killed us with spears." "No, I'm not interested in your circumstances." "When warlords from Zhongyuan invade claiming some honorable cause, we had to cower and endure beatings. As for human trafficking? You always take our people as slaves. You're sparing us only to allow us to bear children who can be offered as slaves; no animal would be treated like this." In Zhongyuan, villages are often dominated by a single surname, with some being remnants of these so-called 'traitorous villages.' Most in Zhongyuan know what the treatment for being linked to traitors involves. N2Q1UkN6Sk9iTEJZNGlLdU5pL0JqbUJRM3EyRUcvS1dDUWZoMnduY0VidWRIeTBmQlIyM09zZ3FwcGcvaWlOdQ Qing, who heard this, was simply dumbfounded. The claims from the greeter were from a time long past, far beyond Qing's recollection. We are now nearly three hundred years into the reign of the current Heavenly Dynasty. For over a century, it would have been nonsensical and inefficient to have a military presence blocking these traitor villages, with the resources better spent on agriculture to yield well-fed troops. Instead, these people could have collectively fled and established new settlements deep in the mountains. Or they could have integrated into Zhongyuan, changing their surnames without getting caught, as it wasn’t a country with a registered census like Qing's homeland. Nevertheless, the Blood Cultists continue to claim that they are persecuted for the crimes of ancestors they never knew. But that's exactly the Blood Cult's strategy for maintaining power. The Blood Cult locates these hidden traitors’ villages, disguises its members as government forces or martial artists to blockade and slowly suffocates the populace through exploitation. Then one day, a formation of martial artists bearing the Blood Banner charges in, staging a believable fight before the banner of the Blood World prevails. They proclaim to have saved their people. Moreover, there are still compatriots suffering under the Zhongyuan oppressors at this very moment, they argue. Let’s unite and drive out these oppressors with our strength! Over time, if Zhongyuan's oppressors, disguised as Blood Cult, assault these aware traitor villages, they ensure Blood Cult’s foundation deepens. If the Blood Cult has not yet set its foundation? They blend into the relentless cycle of seemingly liberating villages while Zhongyuan oppressors retake them, indefinitely repeating this farce. So, when they speak of their people's desolate and dreadful lives? It’s only due to the Blood Cult's own cruel abuse and indoctrination. 'So, disciple. Blood Cultists are like fleas or rats. If you don't crush them as soon as they're discovered, they'll quickly multiply. Therefore, disciple, remember wisely. Even if you pity them, never let mercy sway your hand.' These were the teachings from Master Ximen Surin. 'If you spare them out of pity, remember that might drive innocent folks, who might have evaded Blood Cult entanglements, into that horrifying abyss.' Surin had especially emphasized this point. Having dealt with the Blood Cult's chaos numerous times, the Zhongyuan martial world knew why these vile creatures haven't been eradicated. Thus, Qing narrows her eyes. Does this fool really believe what he's saying? Or is he a genuine disciple from the Blood Cult, just picked up from a Blood Cult village as a mere puppet because he has no real martial skills? No, probably not. How could that be? If he operated a poison manufacturing plant and held responsibilities, he likely held some rank within the Blood Cult, where he'd understand its reality well. Moreover, didn't this man, before his identity was exposed, carry on with such moral business, scamming with the straightest face, not a single change in his expression? Qing concluded. This bastard seems to be stalling. From the beginning, wasn't it all an oddly-timed sob story to begin with? "I've riled them up plenty and even set fire to the mines, and yet instead of spitting out curses, all they did was indulge in some sob story." If it were me, I'd flay them alive, salt them thoroughly, and make a stew to feed their parents. I'd be throwing a right proper fit. But hmm, this could work too, couldn't it? Truthfully, Qing didn't need to provoke them further after subduing the head of the way station. There was no real need to incite anger by taunting. Just breaking, stabbing, and slashing about randomly should suffice to inflict maximum pain. Yet, by taunting and trying to agitate them, the original plan was to provoke them into making a slip of the tongue. Even then, perhaps they're waiting for someone. Might as well cast a line and see if they bite while they're already babbling. "So, you're resentful? Claiming the people of Zhongyuan persecuted you, leaving you no choice? That to survive, you had to spread illness, lure commoners by pretending to sell a cure?" "I won't excuse the deceit. But we only did it to survive. Compared to what you’ve done—" A little bait, and I got a big catch. These bastards spread disease and sold cures under false pretenses. Picking the vilest of deeds as always, truly the only good Blood Cult is a dead Blood Cult. A malign light spills into Qing's eyes. The first to react was Tang Nanah. "Wait, did you hear what this person just said?" "Hah. Why didn't I think of it sooner?" "Sister. If I heard correctly..." "It's fishy, isn't it? Doctor Ryang Jung-Byeong said the plague was impossible to spread, yet new patients showed up everywhere. And what? Smallpox meant just for bluebloods? Where would you find a pure blood these days? Anyone could be infected, they said. And now they're saying Blood Cultists were behind the fake cures? We should have realized sooner." The head of the way station's eyes widened. Clearly one who can think a bit, realizing his slip. "Wait, speading disease, what do you— it's a misunderstanding!!!" The way station's head barely added a sentence before letting out something akin to a scream. This, because the tip of Qing’s forefinger plunged smoothly into his eye socket. Two finger joints deep. At that moment, an exhilarating rush shot through from fingertip to spine like a bursting furnace. Oh wow, oh yes, this is it. "Ah, this is the stuff." Trembling, Qing flicked her finger. Traces of pale eyeball juice left streaks on the ground. The head of the way station twitched and convulsed. Being pinned beneath a Transcendent Realm master and another martial artist, all he could muster was that pitiful squirming. A short while later, drenched in sweat, his form went limp. "Heo-eok, heo-eok. Heo-eok." "You figured playing along made you seem harmless? Trying to string things along obnoxiously with nonsense even a dog wouldn't believe? Hmm? Do you think dogs buy bull? Whatever, why stall for time?" Thinking there might be another Profound Realm master nearby made me uneasy, but Qing concealed her thoughts, tapping the way station head’s skull with mockery. "Given the skill level of the ones you sent out earlier, it’s nothing much, but why, have you hidden some Creation-Transformation [Harmony] Realm master nearby? Does stalling mean they'll show up?" "It's not that I'm stalling—" It was at that moment. "Uh, Young Lord...? This was in the kitchen, seems to be a letter left by Yuryun..." A timid voice interrupted, drawing everyone’s (plus a cyclops) gaze all at once. Especially the way station head who, expecting something, had a spark in his sole remaining eye only for his expression to twist into sheer dismay. The mere servant of the Zheng family. Rushing in alarm upon seeing their head’s face and gasping frantically— Dong—! With a gong's sound, the servant's head exploded, scattering its contents wildly. The body slumped, lifeless. Sigh— Qing let out a deep breath. Honestly, killing clueless Blood Cultists doesn’t leave one all that satisfied. He sauntered outside, deftly snagging the letter clutched by the lifeless hand. Unfurling it to read, Qing frowned deeply, brows knitting. What on earth?— and then came a soft chuckle. He read the letter aloud. "Young Lord, if you're reading this letter, congratulations, it means you've horrifically escaped a grave danger by pure luck. However, I can't protect you anymore. Because Yuryun must disappear now. So you have to take care of yourself properly. Don't rely on those awful rabble of Zheng family lackeys either. They can't even wipe me out with a finger. You know I'm not joking, right?" The way station head's face then distorting bitterly. The awaited person seemed to be this letter's writer, someone named Yuryun evidently. Continuing, Qing read further. "My contract with the Blood Cult is over! Yuryun is free! World, beware! The free Yuryun coming through!" Although unknown, the person appeared to be quite jovial. Being someone awaited by the way station head suggested they had significant skill. A wandering martial artist in a contracted role? Regardless, the look on the way station head's face was priceless. It displayed terror, betrayal, confusion, denial—emotions they'd kept hidden now starkly etched there.