Chapter 464

The weather was truly miserable.

Even though the raindrops were quite substantial, where on earth was this wind coming from?

According to the landlord, it would rain heavily with fierce winds once or twice a decade.

They said it was about time for this year to be one of those occasions.

As soon as Qing heard this, she exclaimed, “Isn’t that a typhoon?”

Is it okay to climb a mountain during a typhoon?

But Cheon Yu-hak remarked that no matter how furious the rain and wind were, it wasn’t something a warrior should be overly concerned about.

Qing had to concede that he had a point.

However, even so, it wasn’t exactly the kind of weather to sit on a wooden floor and stare out at the rain.

When the wind howled violently, the raindrops would come smashing in along with it.

If you didn’t want to make your skin damp, there was really no reason to sit out on a veranda during a typhoon and watch the rain.

Yet, Mo Yong Joo-hee sat there.

She had been soaking wet, shielding herself from the rain that had poured in for quite some time, with drops rolling off her chin.

At that moment, from the village’s storeroom.

The women trapped in the storeroom, or rather, it wasn’t so much of a trapped situation.

The storeroom door wasn’t even locked.

There was really no need to lock it.

When the door was opened, countless vacant gazes met her, the dulled eyes that had already lost their spirit.

How many tears must one shed before the moisture in their eyes is completely gone?

Women who had withered away like mountain corpses.

Even when told they were rescued, they simply followed behind in silence, offering no response to assurances like “it’s okay now, you’ve held on long enough.”

It was as if there were no Jiangshi there at all.

Then, as she faced the subdued Gang Pae-cheon warriors in the center of the village, something started to swell in her heart.

Hatred. A vivid hatred.

It was the moment when the Jiangshi transformed back into a human.

In that instant, Mo Yong Joo-hee realized.

That having any kind of emotions at all was better than being empty.

Even if it was a cold hatred.

So Mo Yong Joo-hee moved.

It was something she did without even realizing it.

She stomped down hard on the hand of the Gang Pae-cheon warrior, who was already groaning with broken limbs—crunch.

The sensation of bones cracking and splintering beneath her shoe was vivid.

And then the execution followed.

Though more accurately, it was a slaughter.

Only then did the women begin to cry.

Some wept quietly, others sobbed heart-wrenchingly, and some howled like beasts.

They cried as they tore the flesh from their enemies, gouging out entrails, smashing bones, and striking bricks.

And there were eyes fixed on Mo Yong Joo-hee.

Eyes swirling with complex emotions of joy, sorrow, contempt, sighs, and fury.

She couldn’t comprehend what those feelings meant.

But one thing was clear.

Those eyes sparkled with anticipation.

A desperate plea for her to show them the enemy’s destruction, to reveal the pain.

She had no idea why she wouldn’t act on it herself.

Maybe she didn’t have the energy to join in the frenzy, or perhaps it was just her nature to prefer quietly observing rather than getting involved.

So Mo Yong Joo-hee did what she had to do.

Peeling off skin, slicing through muscles, pulling out bones, and removing intestines.

She concentrated all her nerves to ensure they wouldn’t die, making the gruesome act vividly imprint on her fingertips.

Mo Yong Joo-hee looked down at her hands.

At that moment.

“Hmm? Who’s over there?”

As she turned her head, she saw Qing, spouting water from her hands.

One hand stretched out, spraying water, while the other was wrapped behind her.

This motion was to shield her eyes from bright light because, whether it was a lantern or a torch, sticking it out too far made it too bright to see anything around.

Mo Yong Joo-hee couldn’t help but chuckle.

She had never heard of someone using water as a light source, and frankly, it wasn’t really effective in the first place.

What kind of extravagant light was this?

Of course, with Qing’s superhuman vision, it was possible.

“What’s up? It’s pouring, and I’m all wet. Why are you standing out here getting drenched? You’ll catch a cold at this rate!”

“Just felt refreshing.”

“Really? If you’re going to get wet, just get fully soaked or dry off. Splashing around isn’t going to help. Why?”

Qing answered in that manner and plopped down behind Mo Yong Joo-hee.

“I’ll hide behind you since it’s pouring.”

Mo Yong Joo-hee smiled slightly at the warmth pressing against her back.

If she didn’t want to get drenched, she could just go inside.

There was no reason for her to come out and stay there, hiding behind her.

From deep inside, she could now clearly understand what Qing felt back then.

It was her utmost attempt to offer comfort.

To release all the pain, sorrow, and hardship she had endured.

The events from back then re-emerged vividly with today’s dismemberment.

The quaking agony, the muted cries communicated through her body, and the hot droplets of blood that splattered on her face.

It still felt horrifying enough to make her tremble.

Even those common women were pouring out their pent-up rage during their revenge.

As for her, a direct descendant of the Odae family.

Just trembling at the mere dismemberment of a villain while unloading her own pain, grief, and terror onto Young Lady Seomun.

“… Am I too weak?”

Mo Yong Joo-hee calmly confessed her inner thoughts.

Before she knew it, her back against Qing had stiffened.

“Hey, it’s not that you’re weak. You just have high emotional intelligence, right? It’s hard for you to see others in pain? Something like that.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Still, you did something, right? You took on the task of letting those women release just a little of their grievances, even if it was something you didn’t want to do, right? People wouldn’t usually call someone weak for that, right? Isn’t doing something you dislike really courageous?”

“Ah…”

Mo Yong Joo-hee’s back softened again, resting her full weight against Qing.

A comfortable smile began to bloom on her face.

Yeah, a warm sanctuary in the world, forever grateful to that person.

However, this time, Qing’s back stiffened.

What’s going on? Did something shift in my thoughts?

Does that mean what I’m doing is false courage?

Is it proper to call myself a twisted psychopath who merely enjoys killing, choosing to hunt only villains?

Yet, Qing also felt a sense of injustice.

Because if it were murder, then yes, it was torture and slaughter.

But what if it was interpreted through a different lens?

What if someone craved attention so much?

If someone wanted only good attention and volunteered to give, engaging in charity and service energetically, what if that person reveled in the likes and praise they received?

Couldn’t such an attention-seeker still be a good person, even if they were called that?

Alternatively, to take an extreme example, what if someone killed to receive gratitude as a twisted form of pleasure?

What if they committed acts of kindness solely to chase that pleasure?

Well, at least, they’d still be performing good deeds, wouldn’t they?

Yet, Qing still felt frustrated.

Because such discussions lose meaning if I’m the one saying them; it would only rationalize my actions.

But what can I do about it?

Can I complain to anyone about it?

Am I really saying that I find torture and murder the most enjoyable thing in the world, and that the screams I hear fill me with joy, giving me a thrill like electricity?

There are things too terrible to confess, even among the closest friends or family, things that are meant to be kept secret.

There’s a saying that true friends or family must pour out their hearts to each other.

That’s just a nice-sounding lie, a load of nonsense.

Certain truths must be kept buried deep within, held alone.

For you, for me, for us.

And at that thought, her anger slowly bubbled up.

What’s going on here?

Am I supposed to be horrified by the brutal torture and murder of villains?

Some people enjoy it; sure, I didn’t expect to suddenly become a pleasure-seeking murderer myself.

Then, a sudden thought crossed her mind.

But what if that’s just who I was supposed to be all along?

What if I’m inherently this kind of person?

What if I’d never killed anyone before, so I never knew I had the capacity for it?

As Qing pondered deeply, she came to a conclusion.

Isn’t it better if I’d been like this from the start?

What if I wasn’t initially this kind of person?

If the status screen I have could contaminate my mind, then that’s a horrifying thought.

Moreover, it’s not like anyone’s forcing me to do anything.

There’s no mandate that failure equals death; it’s just do as you please.

If I could control my mind, I wouldn’t leave it up to chance and allow myself to harbor such rebellious thoughts.

Was I born a pleasure-seeking murderer!?

In some strange way, it brought Qing a sense of relief.

If I was born this way, then what could it matter? Perhaps it’s a good thing I came into this world.

Though it was regrettable that I became a woman.

In a world with so many beautiful women.

With a sigh of longing, Qing turned to caress Mo Yong Joo-hee’s chest.

Well, it’s fake anyway. I made it, so it’s mine. I can treat it however I want.

Mo Yong Joo-hee didn’t seem too surprised.

It was just heavy underwear under her clothes.

“Hmm. I see. No matter how well it’s made, a fake is still a fake. Something feels off.”

“Is it because you know it’s fake? I’m still unsure about it.”

“Really? Could be true?”

Qing tilted her head.

After all, Hi-mae and Gunyongi felt entirely different, so it’s possible that somewhere, someone actually feels like this.

It could be the feeling of knowing it’s a fake that causes the discomfort.

But having a bean stuffed in there at the end was a bit much.

Was a bean the best option? Wasn’t there something more suitably firm yet not too hard and chewy to use instead?

Of course, Qing couldn’t hold back her curiosity.

“Mo Yong Young Lady, is there any material that could substitute for a bean? I don’t know about other places, but that part really breaks the immersion.”

“Hmm. I, too, thought that part needed improvement. What do you think about cartilage?”

“Oh? Is that okay? But that would rot quickly. Something that wouldn’t spoil, ideally.”

“Then…”

The sound of rain pounding relentlessly drowned out their playful conversation.

The faces of Mo Yong Joo-hee, who bore the utmost serious expression, and Qing, who was just idly chatting without a care, were cloaked in the pitch-black night beneath the dark clouds.

It was a dreary day, yet a comfortable night.

—-

For someone, it was a comfortable night; for someone else, a dreadful night.

Somewhere beneath No Mountain, it was so.

“Report on the flooded area!”

“Flooding in Zone A, Zone B6, Zone B9, Zone C5, and Zone D2!”

“What’s the damage?”

“The water has filled the fall trap to the point where it poses no lethal threat currently. However, while that can be resolved by draining the water…”

“Why’d you stop mid-sentence? What’s ‘but’?”

“The poison spray holes have partially filled with water.”

At that, the middle-aged man’s expression soured.

“No way? That can’t be true?”

“The sixteen poison chambers have filled with water…”

“What!? Didn’t I instruct you to check properly?”

“Excluding the poison traps in the main zone, I can’t guarantee any power elsewhere. The poison has already leaked out.”

“How does that even make sense? Some parts are flooded, but why did all the traps fail at once? Did you share the poison chambers?”

“W-well, there’s no choice. Managing poison isn’t easy; if the chambers were entirely separate, we’d have to build another management pathway, and poison’s so expensive. If part of it gets blocked and we don’t use it, we end up wasting it anyway, so it’s more efficient to combine them for management…”

“You fools, how is that hard? Wait, did you bury the poison chambers underground? Why is water filling it up?”

“You said to dig below because the upper rock layer was unstable…”

The middle-aged man slapped his chest in frustration.

“I was wrong to trust you all. You can’t even handle this simple design, and you’ve made an absolute mess of things!”

At that, the subordinate bowed his head deeply.

But only his head bowed; his expression was filled with grievance.

Of course, for the middle-aged man, quite renowned as the best construction specialist in the Central Plain, it might have been a simple task.

He wasn’t just the best; he was one of the greatest geniuses in the field of construction, on par with no one throughout the ages.

But if it were that easy, he’d simply do it himself.

Why complain about what they couldn’t handle after entrusting it to them?

Naturally, the construction specialist was furious and frustrated.

If he had to do everything himself, why even have subordinates at all?

He entrusted the smaller details to them, yet they seemed completely inept.

Objectively speaking, the warriors of the Blood Sect under the command of the Blood Church were undoubtedly talented designers in their own right.

However, to a true genius, they still seemed like dim-witted fools.

“First, drain the water! Get it all out.”

He then drew lines over the complicated blueprints on the wall.

“Set up the drainage here.”

The subordinates’ eyes bulged in disbelief.

While drainage above ground merely flowed from high to low, constructing underground facilities wasn’t that simple.

Thus, the lines drawn casually by the genius held results that would normally take days of brainstorming for someone in construction to arrive at.

What a marvel of expertise!

In that moment, disdain morphed into respect.

Yet respect is respect; their reporting wasn’t over yet.

“Uh, um…”

“What is it?”

“The poison has mixed into the water, so we should wait until the quantity rises further before diluting and…”

“Do you think that’s a valid thought?!”

The construction expert shouted back.

“You think we can wait for the water to rise now that it’s filled? Mobilize everyone immediately to drain the water. Just wear gas masks and get it done, got it!?”

At that, the subordinate’s expression soured completely.

A gas mask is a thick, heavy, and claustrophobic leather outfit that doesn’t allow even a drop of air to pass through.

You want me to wear that to drain water?

While it’s still pouring?!

The subordinate’s vision went dark.

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