Chapter 428

난도이는 the Youngest of the Salwold Sect, and he was never really into fine dining.

With our meager living, who could afford to be a foodie anyway?

If all I had was a bowl of plain rice, even if it was just seasoned with a splash of seawater, I’d think, “Hey, at least I can eat today,” and I’d devour it gratefully.

So, despite the bullying and checks from the older brothers of Salwold Sect, as long as there was food on the table, I could endure the pitiful life of being the youngest.

I never thought I had a big appetite.

Even when food came, I couldn’t really tell if it was good or not since I never liked meat anyway—I’d just let my brothers have it and make sure to stuff myself with the unpopular vegetables.

Looking back, I must have seemed like a total fool.

It’s not that I didn’t have an appetite.

I just never had the chance to taste truly delicious food, the real deal.

Human flesh!

It’s supposedly so delicious that just inhaling its fragrance makes your loins tingle with pleasure; even dying while eating it would be a pleasure, and that’s what they mean when they say “death tastes good.”

“Mmm. Not enough.”

Nandoi smacks his lips.

There are levels to human flesh, you know.

Instinctively, I can tell that the higher the mastery of the heart’s owner—i.e., the heart of a Master—the richer and more profound its flavor becomes.

But this common folk’s flesh? Sure, it fills me up, but there’s nothing particularly tasty about it.

Nandoi dives into the gaping hole of a heart.

Anyone who saw him trying to shove himself inside a corpse would be horrified, wondering if he planned to wear its skin like a coat.

He buries his chin deep into the torso of the heartless body, gulping down like it’s a juicy fruit. The flavor explodes like a rain-soaked iron, creating a heavenly feast.

Suddenly, his ears perk up.

Nandoi springs to his feet, a thick vein stretching out from his mouth, taut and ready.

While skillfully chewing what’s in his mouth, he sniffs the air.

This scent is the fragrance of a Master.

Far tastier than any common folk, it had the aroma of something that, by mere existence, was far more delicious.

That scent makes Nandoi stagger to his feet.

Though he hates to leave behind the half-eaten meal, there’s no reason to chew on something less tasty when something far better is waiting.

By the same logic, his brothers begin to squirm and rise.

Their eyes meet.

There’s a Master. A lot of them. Tasty indeed.

But too many to handle.

So what do we do? We must join forces.

“I’ll take the heart.”

“Shut it, the heart’s mine!”

“The first one to eat wins.”

“I prefer the brain. It’s so soft.”

“Alright. That’s one less rival.”

With that, they all dive at once.

Screams erupt as the less appealing portions scatter.

Complaining about food is a luxury; once they’ve devoured all the Masters, the leftover common folk won’t resist—they’re like worms waiting to be caught.

Thus, the five Blood Ghouls race through the chaos, finally spotting their target.

A young man exuding an irresistible, fragrant aroma, and beside him, a tart, less appealing woman, looking like a lustful courtesan.

And right in the center—

“Ugh.”

The brothers halt in their tracks.

What is that?

The ungodly stench hides behind the Master’s fragrance, suddenly flooding their senses.

Clams and oysters, fish guts piled up, rotting distinctly, and the stench every human finds unbearable.

Nandoi forces down the bile rising in his throat.

What is that? Is that a living being?

It looks like it’s been dead and decayed, but somehow still stuck together.

Before the senses of a Blood Ghoul, it’s a sight they can’t comprehend; every instinct is screaming at them to look away, as if they’re seeing death itself.

“Whoa, damn! That smell! Can’t take it!”

Forget the Master’s scent; if they breathe in that smell any more, they might puke up the human flesh they’ve just swallowed.

The Blood Ghouls begin to flee, escaping at once.

As they meet up with one another, one of them dashes toward the young man, who had just drawn the Moonlight Sword with a stance.

If the people of Guangju were a bit more coherent, they would marvel at the fact that the Divine Maiden knew how to wield a sword.

It’s true, they’d assumed she was going to use a hammer or something, but now they see she’s capable of using a sword.

But just as the brave ones charged in confidently, suddenly they screech to a halt, turning to run with disgust plastered on their faces.

And at the intersection, they scatter in all directions.

“What’s the deal? Hwi-young, go right! Heemae, you take the left!”

Qing shouts as she hastily runs along.

“Hey! That name Heemae sounds cute. Not that it matters; I’ll send the underachiever to join forces with the self-proclaimed Master, Lang-lang.”

Yum Hwi-young is experienced, so she can handle herself even solo.

As Qing races toward the fleeing canibals, she suddenly feels a prickling sensation next to her.

Lang-lang, bouncing in an odd manner, manages to align herself alongside Qing.

“Eh. Lang-lang? I said left, didn’t I? You should be helping the poor Heemae.”

“I, Lang-lang, cannot comprehend. Among us, the weakest member is none other than you, Cheonhwa-geom.”

“Eh? What are you talking about?”

“The brash son of Cheonhwa-geom ranks last, while the shameless slut of Cheonhwa-geom is at minimum the peak of a Supreme Martial Artist. That means rotten scoundrel is last, and the shameless actress is second while Cheonhwa-geom is but third. Don’t worry about others when you’re the weakling, Cheonhwa-geom.”

“Eh? Heemae’s at the peak?”

“That’s likely as she faces the wall of transformation.”

“…? No way, you must be mistaken.”

Qing shakes her head.

Heemae being better than me? How can that even be true?

That’s impossible. It’s a lie!

“But Cheonhwa-geom, slow down, will you? Why are you so fast for someone who clearly doesn’t belong in our ranks? My plan of getting us out of danger only to have a grand banquet for three days is on the verge of collapsing.”

“Humph. If you can keep up, then try.”

Bam! Qing stomped the ground, causing a dark cloud of spores to erupt as Pachen Magi erupted forth.

A figure countless Divine Sect Members (including past and future members as estimated by the Heavenly Demon Sect) dreams of—a vision of the Heavenly Demon himself coming to life.

Honestly, if it were just racing, a Master just needs to stomp hard, push through with overwhelming inner strength and sheer energy, and that’s that.

But a true master of aerial arts requires even finer abilities—specifically, the ability to perceive the path ahead.

Qing leaps and lands on the awning of a stall, springing up onto a roof, taking off across building after building in rapid succession, the speed of Seomun Qing unfolding, an astounding land flight technique.

Soaring up, Qing spins once, landing lightly on her feet.

With one hand gripping the hilt, she thrusts the sword skyward, delivering a mindless strike that slices through the air with brutal impact.

The ground shakes as the great sword hits the earth with an earth-shattering thud.

The Blood Ghoul is cleaved in two, spilling its guts onto the ground as it collapses into a heap.

Witnessing the terrible fate of their kin causes another Blood Ghoul to fall back, stunned.

“Yikes! Get lost! Scram!”

If they actually managed to flee, the world would be peaceful indeed.

With a triumphant smile, Qing grimaces, pondering how best to dismantle this guy for maximum satisfaction.

They might run, but they’re ultimately trapped in the palm of Buddha—actually, beneath it, coming to their senses at last.

Should I crush them? That seems like a good idea. Let’s do it.

In that moment, Qing raised her hand like the hand of you-know-who.

Suddenly, a strong force clamped down on her ankle, and Qing gasped in surprise.

“What the hell!?”

“Disciple…run…”

It was the resistance of the half-torn Blood Ghoul.

With its single remaining arm, it desperately clings to Qing’s ankle, dragging itself up and trying to bite at her calf with all its might.

But Qing’s defensive energy, warmed by the Divine Maiden Sect’s winter, easily withstands the weak fangs.

There’s simply no way those teeth could penetrate.

Taking a moment to stare in stunned disbelief, Qing glanced down at the grotesque ghoul dangling from her leg.

Is it a zombie? Do we have zombies in the Central Plain?

Qing was puzzled and intrigued as she looked at the dead yet clinging ghoul.

It felt like some odd, compressed mass was pushing against her.

“Eww, foot smell. What is that rancid stench…?”

Veins bulged on Qing’s forehead.

Masters don’t smell bad.

Especially those trained in the ways of the Divine Maiden should have lovely floral fragrances or peach scents; each unique based on their training.

Foot smell?

No, not just any stench, but the reek of decayed shellfish? What is wrong with this thing?

“What’s going on? Is this living corpse trying to frame me?”

“Ugh, ugh…”

The ghoul, possibly too disoriented to answer, suddenly retched up whatever remained of its insides.

Great, just gross. Qing quickly yanked her leg away, plunging her sword into the ghoul’s neck.

The ghoul’s face plummets into its own vomit, twitching. What? This bastard isn’t dead yet?

Even though the thrashing finally ceased, Qing was already dreaming of tossing it in the ocean, letting it soak back and forth while it smoldered, all thanks to her brother’s emotional sacrifice, making the remaining Blood Ghoul rush away from the rotting fiend.

Still, she couldn’t help but look back, feeling grateful to the brother who had thrown himself in for her sake, though they weren’t that close anyway.

That’s when…

“Yoink!”

A sound that didn’t seem quite feminine and a powerful impact hit her square in the chest.

Lang-lang, who had just caught up, kicked her into the air, legs together, effortlessly.

As her hometown came rushing back, Qing naturally cheered, “Ooh!” in awe.

As the flying Blood Ghoul came crashing down, Qing tightened her grip on the enormous Moonlight Sword, readying it like a club.

In an instant, four crescent moons dangled in the air, colored by the essence of energy.

Moonlight Sword’s eighth form, Moonlight Infinity.

Back when I was a pathetic peak martial artist, I could barely manage three crescents, but now I could easily combine six if I wanted to.

The limbs of the Blood Ghoul cleanly sliced off and it plummets.

Qing lifts its chin to survey the area.

It’s winter, and there’s a braziers dotting the bustling market street.

With a swift motion, she cooks her shoulders over the fire and harshly drops the now legless ghoul’s ass onto the brazier.

It’s a crude but efficient way to staunch the bleeding among humanity’s strongest men.

“Ugggh!”

“Shush now. This is just a treatment. The patient is in a life-and-death situation. Sadly, from here on, you’ll be a eunuch. This roast is getting all brown now.”

“Ugggh!”

The Blood Ghoul desperately writhes, but how much can a legless creature squirm?

Finally, as Qing manages to staunch the bleeding, she drags the ghoul toward the rendezvous point.

Suddenly, Lang-lang cuts in front of her.

“Eh? Why?”

“Is there any correlation between such a needlessly cruel immobilization process and the signs of excitement exhibited by Cheonhwa-geom?”

“Uhm, no, it’s just—when I saw it was still alive despite being cut in half, I just thought I’d stop the blood and drag it along. I didn’t think I’d need to focus on artery clamping, especially since it wastes my time and effort.”

“Why’s that? Because it’s not human but a monster? So it’s okay to torment it for sheer enjoyment?”

Lang-lang’s words made Qing’s heart ache.

It felt like she’d just stepped down a stair by accident.

Attempting to divert her gaze, Qing finds Lang-lang’s stance as unwavering.

Damn it, I didn’t want to think about this too deeply.

So, Qing tries to simplify her stance.

“Uh, well, it’s not exactly a monster. If it were really a monster, even if it was human, I wouldn’t treat it differently. It’s a bad guy, you know?”

“A bad guy. I, Lang-lang, find that hard to swallow. Humans can be both kind and wicked creatures sometimes. Good and evil aren’t strictly separable concepts. So why does Cheonhwa-geom make such a clear distinction?”

“Well, if they’re devouring innocent people, then whether they’re a monster or a human, they’re a bad guy. Isn’t that crystal clear?”

“So, is a monster that only eats guilty people a good one?”

This stops Qing dead in her tracks.

After pausing for a moment, she replies with a weak smile.

“If such a monster did exist, I’d think it’s really admirable and commendable. So if that monster contributes positively to the world, even if it’s a monster, shouldn’t it deserve love? At least a bit of credit for trying?”