Chapter 329

Once upon a time, in the Central Plains, there was a period when we were all bandits—you, me, everyone.

The world was chaotic, split apart as various factions fought amongst themselves.

Armies clashed with each other.

The martial sects picked sides and turned on one another, so that whenever they thought they’d gained the upper hand in one region, they’d change their faces and turn against each other.

Common people banded together to fight village against village, raiding the neighboring settlements to loot their warehouses and women, while the men were captured, castrated, and turned into slaves. It was an era where such annihilation was just the norm.

In those days, being a bandit was just expected.

Anyone claiming otherwise was seen as the bizarre one.

In the mountains were mountain bandits, along the rivers were river bandits.

On the plains, there were highwaymen, and out at sea, the Japanese pirates.

It was a tumultuous time filled with warfare—a fight for survival where everyone was at each other’s throats.

It’s no surprise that the great minds of antiquity referred to humans as the most savage, brutal, and wicked of beasts.

And they had no choice but to acknowledge the importance of the emperor, or more specifically, the necessity of a unified dynasty.

Thus, the philosophy of the Central Plains fundamentally viewed humanity as evil, with the emperor being an unavoidable and essential element to control such wickedness.

Without the emperor’s governance, the people would only act selfishly and wickedly, forever tearing each other apart.

Maybe the people from Qing’s hometown wouldn’t understand this, but if you were to translate the emperor into an internationally recognized law-and-order government, they might agree a little more.

Nevertheless, once a dynasty appeared to unite the Central Plains, these bandit groups gradually settled down and the world found some stability.

But just like there’s no flower that blooms for ten days, a dynasty eventually ages, and like that five-character proverb, it too will eventually be overtaken by bandits.

When signs of a dynasty’s decline appear, the problems begin anew.

Fortunately, the current dynasty had been afforded a single opportunity—the great martial artist, Great Master Mucheondae, renowned as the greatest of them all, had dealt with the major bandit leaders decisively.

Now, finding highwaymen is a rare thing.

Unless you’re talking about the barbaric invaders on horseback coming from the North, anyone else who dares to ride horses brandishing weapons in the Central Plains will face the fierce onslaught of the officials, eager to seize those expensive horses for themselves.

And river bandits? They’ve called it quits.

According to Bokhaun, the River Guardian, they declared, “We’re done being river bandits! We’re moving on to greater things!”

But let’s be honest, banditry has always been about the basest desires—just a pack of dogs wanting to bark loudly without a leash.

As the River Guardians shifted from banditry to managing river trade, those riffraff were tossed out, and recently, the more ambiguous ones revealed their true nature, causing quite the bloodbath.

Thanks to that, the overall combat effectiveness took a serious dive. Still, due to their unique position on the water, they did manage to keep a tight grip on the waterways of the Yangtze.

It could be said that Bokhaun had foresight—over time, the gap between shipbuilding techniques of civilians and the government widened. Eventually, the river trade ships would be wiped out despite having a few military vessels afloat.

As for the Japanese pirates? They’re basically just pests—like locusts, no matter how many you get rid of, they keep coming back. Everyone just shrugs and accepts that.

And the mountain bandits?

They still take pride in their notoriety.

First off, there’s no suppression against them.

There’s not really any benefit in hunting them down, so the officials just ignore them. Ironically, the more secure the roads in the Central Plains become, the harder it gets for the officials to govern the people freely, so they see it as a loss.

Secondly, there’s a lot of them.

It’s so easy to become a bandit that it’s practically a rite of passage—cross the mountains, partake in some drugs, hit a few heads, and if you make off with something, congratulations, you’ve successfully changed careers.

And since the Green Forest lets anyone in who expresses interest, they might as well be announcing a call for wannabe bandits rather than inquiries for joining—it’s crazy!

Thirdly, surprisingly, there are many skilled martial artists among them.

One might wonder why a master would choose a life of banditry when they could easily lead a respected and comfortable life.

But the truth is, many have a wicked soul that craves the freedom to unleash their power however they want.

After all, if you’ve already got a face and name circulating in the Central Plains, where else can you run?

The heterogeneous sect won’t accept just anyone, and the wild unknowns—they know how terrifying grudges can get in the Central Plains.

But the Blood Sect? Well, that’s just a whole different kind of fish.

So it comes back to bandits, doesn’t it? Living high on the hog in a beautiful natural paradise, surrounded by a cadre of underlings, just like royalty in a little kingdom.

What a magnificent scheme, huh?

Teach a bit of martial arts here and there, and you’ll find plenty of followers eager for scraps. A little show of sincerity to the Green Forest, and boom—your name is suddenly golden.

So you can see why the Green Forest is thriving.

Its rise and fall follows a pattern: when they get too strong, they become overconfident and start causing trouble. Eventually, when they cross the line, there’s a big crackdown, scattering them to the winds, leading to another period of grim chaos until a new master rises to bring the Green Forest back into play.

In that context, the current Green Forest is in its golden age.

Great Master Mucheondae hadn’t needed to intervene even with the lowly bandits, and while the Imperial Palace, dissenting sects, and Blood Sect were all faltering, the Green Forest only grew stronger.

The stragglers fleeing from Mucheondae had joined in large numbers, boosting their martial prowess dramatically.

Of course, if you were to mention that to Mucheondae, he’d probably respond with a hearty fist to the face.

Aren’t the Green Forest a sect too? If the Sado Sect is in trouble, doesn’t that mean we’re all screwed? Should I have had to track down and deal with every minor faction one by one?

What about recent updates? Well, just the other day, a wave of those displaced due to a change in river trade came flooding in, snagging some decent muscle for the Green Forest.

In such a situation, the power and prestige of the Great Chief of the Green Forest and the Supreme Overseer must have been soaring sky-high.

Yet, shockingly, this little-known sect, the Divine Maiden Sect, led by some girl from a hole-in-the-wall, dared to kill his son.

Dare I say it? Of course I did.

They even raided the bandits for gold and silver.

What a major challenge to the authority of the Supreme Overseer.

But how could Qing possibly know?

Not to mention, there wasn’t anyone interested enough in the current strength of the Green Forest amidst all this chaos.

People just saw them as weeds—easily gotten rid of but always coming back, you know? It was all but guaranteed the Green Forest would keep rising and rising.

—-

*Beep! Beep!*

As Qing joyfully shouted along to the flute’s sound, full of energy.

“Let’s go, Moonlight Sword! Martial World debut, let’s welcome our guests!”

Qing’s Moonlight Sword received its first guest.

The glorious first sacrifice of the new blade? Well, their heart was split in two.

And if you asked how a blade entering from the crown split a heart in two, Qing would just shrug and reply.

With strong force, a good sword, and sword aura!

The mountain bandits looked on, eyes wide with disbelief at Qing’s brutality.

Of course, their delight in all this carnage—it was like the only legal drug, sanctioned by the state, hence they couldn’t help indulging.

The rest of it is a well-known fact: living in the Martial World, they learned that displaying ferocity often gives one the upper hand.

The dynamic of battle shifts in their favor.

Among the rules Qing set for herself: once the sword goes in, it can’t come out in the same direction.

The blade that pierced through the crown didn’t exit through the side.

Half of the torso collapsed to the ground.

The remnants, along with the other half of their body, sank to their knees with a thud.

“Eek! Agh!”

Maybe one of the frail souls fled in sheer terror.

But they were so scared they left their body behind, trying to make a run for it, head held high like a true coward.

The mountain bandit chief? He whipped around, bloodied sword above his head and barked.

“Anyone who runs will die by my hand! Kill him! If you don’t, we’ll all be dead anyway!”

Looks like the Deputy Lord was just a pretty face, and that one was the actual threat.

Alright then, let’s have some fun.

Qing charged straight ahead, long sword leading the way.

Thump! Stabbed one, thump! Stabbed another.

Spearheading her way through more foes, Qing pushed them to slide off her blade.

Suddenly, someone grasped her wrist.

With a gaze filled with desperation!

Boom! Qing headbutted the bastard.

Argh! The sweet sound of someone screaming filled the air, and the crunch of a shattered nose resonated upon impact.

Who knew headbutting could feel this good…

After catching two foes on her sword, Qing’s progress slowed down, but she had always been fast on her feet. Even with two still on her blade, her valiant rush remained.

Those two? They served well both as baggage and a shield.

As mountain bandits tried to rush her, they faced a human shield, while attacks flew at her left and right!

Thunk! A blade grazed her shoulder—sting!

But please, just a scratch.

Qing gritted her teeth and intensified her speed.

From the Deputy Lord’s perspective, it was insane!

The veritable yellow streak of sword aura was looming on him, and he couldn’t let anyone of his men’s necks get sliced off or they’d all bolt.

But now, the whole crew was just hovering nervously around, failing to act decisively.

The Deputy Lord shoved the Great Lord roughly.

“Get out of here!”

“Uh, okay.”

At the same time, the Deputy Lord mustered all his strength to lift the sword.

After all, battling against an absolute master, he was just too outclassed.

But if he left the Great Lord to be slaughtered, they wouldn’t survive by retreating down the mountain either.

If all he had to do was stall for time, just stall for time.

And here came that sword, still stabbed through two of his men.

The Deputy Lord then realized, **Where the hell do I even aim to slash?**

In order to cleave a human like tofu, you’d need some serious skills or a sword aura.

A simple Dao with a little sword aura couldn’t just swing through three bodies stacked up like that.

“Damn it! The net! Throw the net!”

The Deputy Lord shouted as he dove to the right.

With the sword heading toward him, the side was wide open.

Barely avoiding the shoulders of his men, he swung his Dao down hard—

Whoosh!

The blood-curdling sound of slicing air.

The Dao sliced through nothing but emptiness.

Whoops.

The Deputy Lord caught sight of his two pinned subordinates collapsing.

Seomun Qing had just let go of her sword.

Let go? But where?

In a blinding instant, time seemed to slow for this semi-peak master of concentration.

Right above the head of one of the fallen men (the one at the back), there was a strange-looking shoe—a thin front tip that plummeted down.

Instantly, there was a rush of dark True Energy at her toes, and as her foot crushed and tore through the head, the remnants scattered slowly, gory bits tracing the path of her stunning exit.

In this leisurely flow of time, only Qing soared swiftly through the air.

As the Great Lord was turning back, sensing something, his expression marred with horror.

“Ahhh—”

The Deputy Lord let out a slow, drawn-out scream.

In that split second, thud! The Great Lord tripped over a stone.

The man frantically sprinting along now found himself tumbling headfirst, taking a nosedive.

That’s why you should keep your eyes on where you’re going when you run.

Sometimes, yeah, a swift glance back isn’t a bad idea.

In a frenzy, Qing swiftly pulled her left hand toward her neck, grabbing a hairpin.

The flying hairpin ricocheted off the Great Lord’s leg, and—missed!

Was it an urgent aiming problem, or had Qing’s secret skills evolved to the level of making pinpoint attacks uncontainable?

Regardless, it was a hit! The Great Lord could make his break!

And suddenly, time began to move again, sending the Deputy Lord’s scream morphing into an exuberant roar of triumph.

“—Yes!”

But the issue wasn’t the hairpin.

The Great Lord was propelled forward like a human cannonball, speeding down the steep hill like a runaway cart—the brakes were busted, aimed toward a massive boulder.

This grand act could only be described as a remarkable display of will, a veritable performance art against nature itself!

Because, as I said, you have to keep your eyes on the prize when you run.

You really shouldn’t ever look back.

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