Chapter 376

Spring Festival!

Known to Qing as “Seollal,” it’s undeniably the most significant holiday for the Chinese people.

Of course, regardless of whether one belongs to the Chinese race, there’s hardly any culture that doesn’t celebrate the passing of the old year and the arrival of a new one.

Long ago, in ancient times, there existed a monster named “Nian,” with huge horns, that would crawl into the human world to devour people on the day of the New Year.

However, this monster feared three things: the color red, lanterns, and loud noises.

Thus, on New Year’s Day, the Chinese would adorn their doors with red paper, fill the village with lanterns, and bang bamboo together to create loud sounds to chase this monster away.

And what happened after gunpowder was invented?

Gunpowder creates light, and light chases away the monster with mighty roars.

This fact is even illustrated in the watermelon painting.

So now, just before the New Year, thousands of lanterns light up the streets of Nanyang, making the earth glow.

In those few days of the year when nighttime fun is legally allowed, the drinkers are already merrily drunk and loud, children are giggling and running around, beggars are full for the first time in ages, lovers hold hands, and married men stroll the streets surrounded by their wives and concubines.

Even the lonely men and women bravely reach out for each other during this time, making it a night overflowing with abundance, joy, and fertility on the cold earth.

But on this one special day of the year, amidst the joyous commoners, there are individuals with twisted personalities who can’t stand the merriment.

“Don’t enjoy it!”

Though unspoken, their glaring eyes say they’d rather kill anyone caught having a good time.

These are the warriors of the Salt Workshop.

Damn it, some would be losing their lives right from the start of the New Year.

The kids are playing, those kids should burn in hell, even those holding hands are also set to burn, and those laughing or drinking should be torched too.

Of course, the warriors of the Salt Workshop had a few screws loose in their personalities.

But one can understand them to some extent.

They were about to take the front lines in the impending battle, serving as the vanguard, or in other words, the shield.

Naturally, they were on high alert, pondering whether they could survive this glorious festival (the old name for Spring Festival) and see the dawn of the new year.

Undoubtedly, this was the mindset of the lower-ranking warriors.

Three combat units belonging to the Sado Sect trailed behind the warriors of the Salt Workshop. Whether it was genuine fear or mere bravado, they joked that seeing blood on the first day of the new year surely meant it would be a glorious year.

And then came the advance of the Salt Workshop.

A typical gangster act from those Sapa folks.

Logically speaking, who would attack the moment the new year arrives, simply because the deadline was set for this year?

But those blokes of the Sapa sect, led by their formidable strategist Jo Kwang-ang, thought outside the box.

Not that there weren’t any dissenting voices.

But Jo Kwang-ang crushed all opposition with a single statement.

“Are you afraid or something?”

In Qing’s hometown slang, that translated to, “What, scared?”—talk about the root cause of many injuries and mishaps, which was exactly the case here.

Thus, the head of the Salt Workshop, Yo Hwan-cheol, and the masters of the Sapa sect led the charge, followed by the grim faces of the ordinary warriors of the Salt Workshop, alongside the dispatch of the Sapa sect’s combat unit keeping a sharp eye for any stragglers.

So there came the eve of confrontation, or rather, the night of the battle!

Yo Hwan-cheol stepped toward Nanyang’s Salt Workshop, aiming for the Gye-rim Sword Faction’s manor to establish a new base for his clan.

The Gye-rim Sword Faction probably never imagined such a swift onslaught.

Had they heard the news, they would have hurried to close their front gates and gather their disciples, but the elite warriors of the Salt Workshop, already battle-ready, would sweep them away before they even had a chance to react.

“Hmm?”

But lo and behold.

Instead of preparing for battle, they had thrown open the massive gates of the manor wide and decorated the place with exquisite lanterns, creating a festive glow.

Inside, a banquet was laid out, and everyone wore bright smiles and laughter filled the air.

Yo Hwan-cheol, Jo Kwang-ang, and other masters exchanged bewildered glances.

“What the heck is going on here?”

“No idea.”

In fact, they hadn’t even set a guard at the wide-open gate, meaning it was an open invitation for anyone to come in.

At this point, one could only feel flabbergasted and perplexed.

Surely, if they were expecting to be chased out, they should be sulking, sneaking away, or ready to fight to the death, instead of throwing a feast.

“Could it be that they’re having a laugh at our expense? The Gye-rim Sword Faction must be up to some tricks!”

Jo Kwang-ang, who fancied himself a grand strategist, was the only one left speechless and impressed.

“They probably think that by appearing merry and defenseless on a grand day, we wouldn’t dare to attack. How naive! The path of a bandit eventually leads to tragedy; kindness is merely a luxury. We tread the road of slaughter!”

With a dramatic flair, Jo Kwang-ang declared this boldly, with Black Tiger Sect Leader Moon Jeong-yeok and Sahun, the leader of the White Tiger Sect, immediately agreeing, even if they never signed off on the whole slaughter thing.

Rushing to lead the way, Jo Kwang-ang found himself eventually colliding with the situation of being in the manor.

Suddenly, the calm voice filled with profound weight echoed through the gathering.

“His Highness Wang Ya approaches! Prince Deokhyeon graces us with his presence; let us all show the utmost respect to honor his arrival!”

At that, the disciples of the Gye-rim Sword Faction abruptly changed their festive demeanor, kneeling, showing their utmost respect.

Since they had already bowed when Prince Deokhyeon arrived, according to the law of not bowing twice to a living person, they simply knelt again in a respectful posture.

In contrast, the elite warriors of the Salt Workshop and evildoers were taken aback.

Wang Ya? Prince? All of a sudden?

What was this, a bolt from the blue?

Just then, Jayu emerged from the hall and took a seat behind Leader Kang Su-yang.

Turns out, there was a higher seat prepared behind the main one.

Resting his chin on the table, he remarked—

“Hmm? What’s this? Who are these people that dare to stand tall before the bloodline of the Emperor?”

“Your Highness. The fellow in front is a Salt Merchant; he seems to have come for a visit after hearing of your arrival,” someone replied nervously.

“Oh, really? I heard someone was throwing a fit over who was supposed to greet me.”

It was at that moment that Yo Hwan-cheol turned pale.

‘What lunatics! I asked them to clear the manor, and they bring in a prince!? These cowards don’t even understand the Official Imposition of Non-Interference!’

The clock hadn’t even struck midnight yet.

The old year hadn’t even passed when these folks were having such thoughts.

However, whether one is embarrassed or not, survival takes precedence.

“No! I simply came to pay my respects to the esteemed Prince! Your Highness, may the new year bring you great blessings!”

As Yo Hwan-cheol nearly performed a bow, he halted abruptly.

Kang Su-yang had taken such a prominent seat that bowing would appear as if he was also saluting him.

“Ah, Master, are martial artists such a disregardful lot? No matter how royal one is, they should not bow, should they?”

“No! Long live, long live, long live!”

Yo Hwan-cheol practically threw himself in the air with both arms raised, shouting “long live” fervently.

Jayu’s attention drifted back to the wildly flustered heroes from the Sapa faction.

“Bong-Mo of the Jianghu presents his greetings! May you have longevity!”

“Boyeol from Baekho offers his respects!”

“Hyeyeon from the Black Tiger Sect sends greetings!”

“I am Jo Kwang-ang of the Gye-rim Sword Faction! May you live well!”

With Boyeol leading the charge, the masters of the Sapa faction scrambled forward hastily.

Forget about receiving the manor; the very spot where the prince stood was sacred ground in the Central Plain.

“Alright. Though the new year may still be a bit away, I wish you all blessings for the new year nonetheless. Hmm, but it seems quite a crowd has gathered outside.”

To that, Kang Su-yang eagerly responded.

“Everyone is here to pay their respects to Your Highness on this wonderful night!”

“Is that so? Truly admirable folks. However, if I am to greet each one individually, the good night of New Year’s Day will slip away. Well then, feeling generous here—I shall personally step out to greet them.”

And so, the benevolent Prince Deokhyeon himself stepped out to welcome the gathered crowd.

“Prince Deokhyeon, long live! Long live!”

“Prince Deokhyeon, long live! Long live!”

Moved to tears, the martial artists of Jianghu all simultaneously knelt, pressing their foreheads to the ground in adoration for the dear royal name.

Their chants rang out echoing through all of Nanyang.