Chapter 457

Rags are still rags, even if you wash them.

But hey, they don’t smell.

The newly woven raincoat is tougher since it’s not fully dried yet.

Still, no smell.

Well, the day before yesterday was a bit off…

Just slap on a burlap sack and carry a stick, and voila! You’ve got a perfect mountain man.

Humans are sad creatures who judge by appearance, not by substance.

Disguising a sword as a stick is so easy even a child could do it.

First, find a long, straight piece of wood that can handle a blade. If you can’t find one, just chop one down.

Second, wrap it lightly with your Qi and stick it straight in.

Third, just cover the handle with some filthy cloth, and boom! A perfect stick!

With just some Qi, even a seven-year-old could make one.

But goodness, there are two losers in the group who can’t even manage this.

As Qing climbs the hill, lost in thought,

he comes across a dip in the ground revealing a fortress village with walls made of buildings.

From below, it’s hidden by the hill, and from above, the dense forest in the back obscures it.

Truly, a hidden village.

Qing approaches the entrance lazily.

Ha Cheon-Dae ranks nineteenth in the Gang Pae-cheon.

In simpler terms, you could say he’s the nineteenth disciple of the Second Division.

There’s a reason to emphasize “Second Division” instead of just saying disciple.

To be the Sado Ten Great Stars means to be different from others.

Of course, it’s hard to say how much of a difference that title makes when it comes to rank like Elder Tian, First Division disciple, Second Division disciple, or Third Division disciple, casually referring to the latter as “hey you little brat.”

Anyway, Ha Cheon-Dae spotted a man in a raincoat down the hill.

With a sturdy, oversized stick in hand, it’s hard to tell if it’s a weapon or just a walking stick.

It’s seriously confusing whether he’s a warrior or not.

Ha Cheon-Dae cautiously calls out to the man sprawled out over there.

“Brother Suhwa.”

The significant difference between calling him a Second Division disciple and using the term “Ikae-Wi.”

When ranking them, the higher-ups maintain a more ruthless relationship than those bound by kinship.

Brother Suhwa ranks seventeen.

Just a mere two steps higher, but people lower in rank usually care more about hierarchy.

No one dares touch a senior warrior.

He can’t even raise his voice.

Softly, he needs to wake him.

“Brother Suhwa.”

“Ugh? What—”

“Someone’s coming.”

“What? Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What the hell? How can you be in the dark? If you don’t know, doesn’t that end your time in Ikae-Wi? How can you just ignore it? Do you expect me to find out for you? You’re really slacking off here?”

That’s a bit of common sense being shattered.

Isn’t it natural for someone in a lower position to find out things for those above them?

That’s why seniors earn respect.

Just because one was born earlier or started training first doesn’t inherently earn them respect.

But fundamentally, the Sapa Sect is made up of those who tread different paths than others.

Thus, Sado.

People who walk their own path!

“I’ll find out.”

“Who do you think you are, daring to wake my sweet slumber? You cheeky little brat, why don’t we have a gathering, shall we?”

When on guard, it’s pretty clear who’s the less competent—the one who reports the suspicious person or the suspicious person themselves.

And what do you mean by gathering.

Surprisingly, between the ranks of seventeen and nineteen, there’s only one person.

And gathering implies bringing in a bunch of people.

If you’re calling the eighteenth rank, you should call it a summons, not a gathering.

That’s why Ha Cheon-Dae felt agitated.

However, the well-trained facial muscles from years spent in the Sapa life gave no hints of his emotions.

Ha Cheon-Dae leans closer to peek through a hole in the barrier to check out the suspicious character.

Looks like someone’s leisurely wandering by.

But as they get closer, the suspicion fades.

Clad in a raincoat, with a burlap sack slung over their back, one might wonder why they need such a thick, hefty stick.

But isn’t that just a common mountain dweller?

“Brother, I think it’s just a woodsman.”

“What? Just think? Is that how you report?”

“It’s definitely a woodsman.”

“Is he from this village? Handle it yourself. No, wait. If he’s just a woodsman, capture him for now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ha Cheon-Dae gazes through the hole again.

And he’s completely losing it by the way the woodsman strolls.

Plodding along, stopping to look at the grass by the roadside, getting sidetracked by a butterfly, taking another step, step by step.

Ha Cheon-Dae can’t hold back any longer and leaps down.

Using his swift moves, he rushes closer and draws his weapon.

“Who are you?”

The woodsman instantly kneels.

Kneeling and begging is a common protective measure for commoners in front of a blade.

“Oh, my lord! What’s the matter?”

“Hm? You’re a girl? But anyway, who are you, and what brings you here?”

“I’m called Eon-nyeong, and I’m just heading home.”

Ha Cheon-Dae smirks slyly.

“Seems kinda suspicious. Show your face.”

At that, the wide-brimmed hat of the raincoat is lifted.

A lady with a slightly crooked nose and a face that still can’t hide a stunning beauty.

A storm of beauty that takes Ha Cheon-Dae aback like a gust of wind.

“Ahem, still a bit suspicious. You aren’t hiding any dangerous items, are you?”

“What dangerous items? There’s nothing like that—”

“Enough, I need to search you, so strip off your clothes and kneel quietly.”

Searching a woman’s body is a hobby of the Sapa.

She protests, “How can you ask me to strip in broad daylight, my lord, please!”

“Oh please, should I do it myself?”

“Then, if I just take off my clothes, will you let me go?”

“No way. You’ve got plenty of pockets that need checking, right? I’ll need to see those as well.”

“Lord, please—”

“What? Is it so hard to undress? If it is, I guess I’ll have to help you out.”

Ha Cheon-Dae exhales as he reaches for her.

She also huffs as she reaches for him.

Shockingly, the woman’s hand touches Ha Cheon-Dae’s first.

This is the principle of the latecomer.

With her fingers extended, she pokes at his neck.

One finger sinking into the spot just above his collarbone.

“Ugh.”

Ha Cheon-Dae’s throat now has two holes.

The air, shooting straight to his lungs without going through his nasal cavity, is surprisingly refreshing.

“……!?”

However, the moment air passes through his throat, he can’t make a sound.

With one hole, a wheeze would escape, but with two, there’s no chance.

“Wondering what I’d do if they were decent folks? Well, they sure are Sapa degenerates.”

The woman spins her hand horizontally.

Panicked, Ha Cheon-Dae attempts to grab his throat, but suddenly a naked flesh column rushes towards him.

A brutal pain that scorches across his eyes.

And in that instant, everything goes dark, just like a candle snuffed out.

“……!!!”

Ha Cheon-Dae clutches his eyes.

A hot liquid flowing down his cheeks feels thick and sticky, unlike tears.

In front of him, the woman stretches out her arms and claps!

But it’s not the sound of hands colliding.

It’s the sound of Ha Cheon-Dae’s head getting smacked hard between two strong slaps.

Her palms crush his ears, and the compressed air rushes in and pops his eardrums!

His neck bursts! His eyes burst! His ears burst!

Wind from his throat starts to leak violently.

If it had reached his vocal cords, a horrifying scream would have erupted.

Blind and deaf, Ha Cheon-Dae sobs silently, feeling a hand gripping his elbow.

And with a crunch.

More colorful winds spill out.

The woman, Qing, wears a mischievous expression.

Hmm. It’s a bit boring not hearing any screams.

You know, when watching actors on a screen, muting the sound takes away all the fun.

Still, visually, it’s quite rich.

An unknown Sapa warrior, only known for skillfully teasing women? That Sapa warrior’s arm lies broken under the weight, blood streaming from his eyes and ears as he rolls helplessly on the ground.

Hmm. A bit disappointing.

With a flick of his toes, Qing delivers a few more kicks to make the “Seven Holes Bleeding” complete.

For context, “Seven Holes Bleeding” means blood flowing from two eye sockets, two nostrils, two ears, and one mouth.

Qing grabs the thug by the collar and drags him toward the fort village.

With his bald head, it’s hard to avoid grabbing him by the scruff.

Kind of gets why he was asked to strip earlier.

The Sapa warrior, flailing in desperation, is now blind, deaf, mute, and a pathetic mess.

All he can do now is flail his legs.

Qing drags him toward the fort’s front gate.

Why is it so quiet?

Haven’t they seen someone getting dragged around?

Wouldn’t they find it a bit odd, seeing him dragged like that?

Why so quiet?

Qing listens closely.

Loud wheezing sounds.

And above there’s the sound of snoring.

Hmm. So they’re really the Ten Great Stars of the Sapa? Their discipline is in total shambles.

Isn’t it true that you can forgive a commander who fails in battle but never one who fails at vigilance? Or was it about supplies?

Anyway.

After tossing the Sapa warrior aside, Qing steps on his knees and finishes the job.

He can neither see nor hear nor speak, yet every bone in his body is broken.

There’s nothing left but a bit of wriggling.

It’s a little unfortunate that he can’t explain why he ended up like this.

If he could, he might realize he should have lived more honestly instead of being a bad guy.

Qing leaps up onto the gate.

“Oh boy.”

There’s someone sleeping right at the entrance.

Even as Qing approaches, the person snores like a log.

Qing’s index and middle fingers sharpen again.

Just as he was about to curse out loud for the first rank warrior Jang Suhwa, who froze in awe, he’s startled awake, eyes wide open.

But it’s too late.

An iron grip wrenches his hair, turning his body violently, and suddenly he’s weightless, feeling the terrifying drop pulling him in.

Thud.

Unconsciously falling and landing hard on his butt, Jang Suhwa’s tailbone gets wrecked.

Fortunately, the tailbone isn’t essential for human function.

However, knowing that a formidable murderer disguised as the most beautiful in the world is now coming down behind him, that’s hardly fortunate at all.

As he unwittingly rubs his backside, the searing pain in his tailbone makes him wheeze.

Suddenly, he feels a cold metal pressing against his neck.

Jang Suhwa cautiously glances up.

“Shh. Quiet. You see over there?”

Over there is Ha Cheon-Dae, crawling on the ground.

Bleeding from all seven holes, sprawled out limply.

Qing pretends to grip his throat.

If the trachea is punctured, he can’t talk.

But he can block the holes.

Jang Suhwa grabs his own neck.

“Who…?”

“Who asked for revenge on behalf of the Dan-ga Village? Got it?”

“Daring to touch Gang Pae-cheon—”

Suddenly, a sharp sting.

Just grazing the skin, but it’s enough to jolt Jang Suhwa into realizing his situation.

“Daring?”

“N-no!”

Another sting.

“Shh, I told you to be quiet, right?”

“Yes, yes…”

“I have a few questions I’m curious about. Will you answer me honestly? Or do you want to be blind, deaf, and mute like him?”

“If you spare me…”

“Hmm. Well, it’s only fair that if something comes, something also goes. If you answer well, I might let you go. But first, can you lie?”

“I won’t!”

With that, Qing begins to probe for essential information.

Who are you?

Where did you come from, and how many are with you?

So, who else is in the village, and how many of them?

“Now, for the last question. Why did you kill the poor villagers?”

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