Chapter 487

“If it were up to me, I’d chew and swallow that toothache-inducing jerk right down!”

But with two little minors in our party, I had to hold back on the cruelty.

If Jin Jangmyung found out, he’d surely be baffled.

“Hey, I’m an adult! Not a kid!”

If Mo Yong Joo-hee caught wind of this, she’d probably feel even more aggrieved.

“But you already gave me a hands-on lesson!”

But Qing didn’t care.

Every tangible and intangible asset Qing accumulated in the Martial World was like a tower built upon someone else’s grievances!

What’s up with that one over there, rolling her eyes like some naughty vixen, drooling and trembling all over while honing her martial arts!

Where in the world did that sturdy, powerful physical ability come from?

With a head that has three brains, why is her lower body so strong and her face so pretty?!

Sure, if she felt wronged, she could just take the protagonist role herself.

Anyway, the one who caught the Blood Sect Technician was Qing.

Qing had the right to do whatever he wanted.

Since there were kids around, I took it easy. No blood, no trouble.

I just dislocated all his joints.

Not seeing blood means it’s all good, right?

Anyone who has had a shoulder dislocated knows how wickedly painful that is.

Beyond the torturous agony of a dislocated shoulder, maybe the pain of kidney stones could compete.

In a state of extreme pain, screams and corresponding liquids would flow from every orifice!

The Blood Sect Technician, who wasn’t even slightly pitiful, hung limply, tears and snot flowing down his face from the unreasonable violence he was suffering.

His mouth was shut, thus screams and drool were excluded.

Because asking questions before torturing is the hallmark of a rookie.

“Alright. You know what empathetic understanding is, right? I trust you can comprehend the suffering I endured from that heinous trap. Right?”

The Blood Sect Technician’s blood pressure skyrocketed with indignation.

The pain Qing experienced from the trap amounted to nothing more than a red ladybug pattern dotted on his clothes, and even then, it had healed without a scab thanks to his extraordinary recovery!

“It would be wise to answer truthfully. I’m holding back on bloodshed because of the minors, but thinking about it, I could let loose in this perilous martial world.”

“Pffft. I’m an adult!”

Jin Jangmyung slapped Qing a bit, but even massage couldn’t compare to this pain.

From Jin Jangmyung’s reaction, it was clear Qing’s words were lacking, yet the essence was right on target.

It seemed that since there was no blood, there was room for some fun.

“Name, affiliation, age.”

“Kek! I’ve got nothing to say. Just kill me.”

“Are you out of your mind? Miss An?”

“Yes, yes!”

The pale-faced Miss An grabbed the Blood Sect Technician by the torso and started shaking him up and down.

Since all his joints were dislocated, the Blood Sect Technician reacted like he was seeing hundreds of exclamation points, which pleased Qing greatly.

“Ugh! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

“Again. Name, affiliation, age.”

“…I’m Cheong Shin-wan, affiliated with the Blood Sect. Age thirty-seven—”

“Liar! How could you be thirty-seven with that face? You look more like you’re over fifty! Are you out of your mind? Miss An!”

“Agh! I’m thirty-one! I swear! I swear!”

But pain always takes precedence over truth.

“I’m fifty years old…”

Cheong Shin-wan had aged drastically after twenty years of digging stones in a cave.

You might wonder how a thirty-seven-year-old could look over fifty, but anyone who has been to Qing’s hometown could understand.

Farmers in the military framework typically hover around thirty-five, but they often look like senior citizens nearing sixty.

When a person endures hardship, they age rapidly.

With Qing’s lost youth being tragic, he was unfairly branded with the stigma of aging into a half-century old man.

Qing squinted his eyes.

“You don’t even look fifty… well, age isn’t that important, let’s move on.”

The Blood Sect Technician’s blood pressure spiked again.

You tortured him over something that wasn’t even that important?!

“You were the one operating the trap, right? What’s your scheme?”

“Ugh, heh, you dull-headed girl. Can’t you see how it all falls into place? Now that our sect’s name has come up, a decent person would know how the situation stands.”

“Dull-headed? How insulting. I’m smart; if we talk IQ, I’m definitely high IQ.”

“High IQ? That term doesn’t even exist—”

“Enough. So, that was all your Blood Sect’s scheme, huh? No wonder the Treasure Maps were scattered around so artificially.”

At that, Cheon Yu-hak’s expression grew chilly.

Lectures, deciphering maps, sleeping.

Those were the only three actions he had been silently performing during last summer.

Of course, unlike Qing, who was a self-proclaimed high IQ when it came to harming others, Cheon Yu-hak was a great master infamous throughout the land.

Upon hearing the name of the Blood Sect, he instantly grasped the real situation, but the anger flared anew once he confirmed it with his own ears.

Next to him, cold as ice, was Mo Yong Joo-hee.

She couldn’t live under the same sky as the Blood Sect—they were her sworn enemies.

Cheong Shin-wan got shaken down.

Not in euphemistic terms; he got shaken down in the most literal and physical sense.

He was writhing with all his joints dislocated, twitching and flailing, creating a unique sensation for anyone watching.

In between, Cheon Yu-hak took a turn shaking him, and then Mo Yong Joo-hee, patiently waiting in the background, joyfully took her turn at tormenting the evil underling of the Blood Sect.

It seemed that Cheong Shin-wan also experienced a fair bit of satisfying pain from this.

Pieces of broken teeth flew from his mouth as he gritted and gritted until traces of broken teeth were all that remained; the whites of his eyes were a bright red and swollen, as extreme pain often bursts capillaries.

After a thorough shaking, Cheong Shin-wan lay on the ground, sprawled out like melting butter, joints awkwardly bent.

Here’s the amazing fact I discovered!

Those Blood Sect technicians had been digging a mystical cave for a full twenty years.

This massive undertaking, no, carving such a facility inside a solid mountainous rock, is no trivial matter.

This was nothing short of a grand maneuver that would send reverberations across the world and is generally referred to as a monumental feat.

“Wait, twenty years? Why on earth would you go that far? What grudge could make someone dig for twenty years?”

Cheong Shin-wan let out a weak chuckle.

“I, my parents, were tenant farmers on the despicable Hwasan’s land.”

“Hwasan? The Hwasan without a volcano?”

Upon hearing this, the expressions of Qing’s party hardened.

Why was the name of Hwasan coming up?

Were there any heinous crimes committed by the famously renowned Hwasan sect?

“One day, Hwasan’s so-called ‘Daoists’ kicked us out. They claimed our crops from the same land didn’t yield even half. Do you know what it’s like to be a tenant farmer? We were pitiful people clinging to the land of others without owning any.”

Not just any land, but the land of Hwasan.

The rumor spread that their yield was less than half of its potential—or rather, no landlord would ever want a tenant farmer who couldn’t farm.

In such dire poverty, the father was killed for stealing a dog, while the infant brother starved from lack of milk.

The mother, holding her dead child, lost her mind; she wandered around with a rotting chunk of meat until one day, she never came back.

In this solemn atmosphere, Cheon Yu-hak asked with a puzzled expression.

“Wait a minute. Doesn’t that sound odd? If the crops from the same land yield less than half, then either the water or soil is a problem, or perhaps locusts have swept through, meaning all farms should yield half too. Why only your farm?”

Qing knew nothing about farming.

Neither did Namgoong Shin-jae, being from a noble family.

And even Jin Jangmyung was a sickly girl who hadn’t lived on a farm but was taken from the Divine Maiden Sect.

Cheon Yu-hak was well-off as well, having wandered around as a merchant, he dared to question.

“None of that matters! Those so-called chivalrous people of the Great Eight who play nice to the world kicked us out for a measly few bushels of oats! They left us to die in the streets! My father! My mother! My helpless brother who never learnt to walk! Those damned murderers! Those hypocrites! I swore to burn their grand Hwasan to the ground!”

This guy just said ‘measly few bushels,’ right?

Attention from the party turned cold.

In fact, landlords known for their reputation within the orthodox sect often had quite a lenient tax collection.

Out of fear for their image, even those rich households would be reluctant to have rumors of exploiting tenant farmers floating around.

This distinction between the orthodox and heterodox sects is precisely due to how they care about their reputations.

It wasn’t a baseless rumor that if you cultivated Daoist lands, you’d be adequately fed three meals a day, so to speak.

After all, a tenant farmer could manage to eat well while farming a Daoist’s land.

Yet, did one dare to snatch any grain from the Hwasan sect, not just any Daoist?

If they snatched the treasures of the ruthless martial artists, who would want to even think of touching a landlord’s bounty?

Obviously, no landlord would want such treatment.

On top of that, Hwasan is the pride of Shaanxi, the honor of Shaanxi, beloved by the aspiring martial artists of Shaanxi.

If the rumor spread about some oats taken from Hwasan, the tenant farmer wouldn’t just be out of luck — even getting work as a day laborer would seem impossible.

“As far as I know, the Hwasan sect does allow for a decent surplus. It’s applauded that there are no starving farmers living off Hwasan’s land—”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Those Hwasan jerks own every inch of land; that endless stretch of land belongs entirely to them! They were blessed with a godsend granary we, the tenant farmers, could never lay hands on! Just a few bushels of oats is less than a single grain of rice for us tenant farmers!”

“So, what? If Hwasan is rich, does that mean it’s okay to rob them?”

“So what, we born as tenant farmers are to spend our lives at the mercy of others? Wanting just a little plot of land to call our own is an excuse to let ourselves die in misery?”

Cheong Shin-wan shouted, spitting out blood.

Qing tilted his head.

What’s going on? Why does this guy sound so proud?

“Isn’t your family being wiped out because they wanted a piece of the land, not because they stole from Hwasan?”

“It was only seven bushels of oats! Just seven measly bushels!”

By the way, one bushel is about 240 pounds.

Seven bushels equals 1,680 pounds. That’s a significant amount — enough to fill a large container and then some.

“So, to summarize: your family stole seven bushels of oats, which is basically nothing for Hwasan. And that’s why they mercilessly wiped out your family.”

“Exactly! Those hypocrites! I’ll kill them all!”

“Oh, I see…”

Qing stammered, momentarily silenced.

In fact, having quieted Qing’s outburst is an achievement worth bragging about for generations to come.

What Cheong Shin-wan did formed quite the legacy.

What was Hwasan supposed to do about it?

Did other tenant farmers just shrug it off while dutifully paying their taxes?

If they took pity on Hwasan, what would become of the other tenant farmers, and when would the next crop-thieving underdogs arise?

People often get it wrong but being weak or poor doesn’t equate to being good.

And people inherently believe their suffering is the most grievous of all.

You might find it absurd, but people like this are easy to come by in the Central Plain or even Qing’s hometown.

In any case, Qing concluded.

“Let’s just rip his insides out and go find the other Blood Sect bastards. Jang Myung is out, and the kids are not allowed to watch.”

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