Chapter 490

As a result of inquiries made to numerous Blood Sect Technicians (physically), it seems the treasure room where the Heart Consumption Technique’s secret manual is kept can be accessed through the central control room.

The issue lies with the lazy Am Ha-ryong’s martial prowess.

Seriously, it’s a second-rate handling.

This proved to be a significant problem.

The Leader of Blood Sect is well aware of his own weakness, so the security in the central control room is no laughing matter.

“Keheh, the grand plan is already in progress, and the Lord can manage the rest by himself. You will witness the entire world drenched in filthy desires and blood.”

“Hmm. Looks like your mouth still works.”

Torture isn’t a catch-all; some guys get consumed by rage until the bitter end.

But really, it’s their loss; kicking and screaming until their painful demise won’t get them anywhere, and Qing wasn’t particularly concerned about that.

For Qing, the act of torture itself was a joy, and whether or not anyone spilled information was a secondary matter.

Keeping quiet wasn’t a loss for Qing.

Like this guy.

“Khahaha! I’ll wait in hell!”

Qing looked down at the Blood Sect Technician, who was bleeding profusely.

His expression appeared to be saying it was absurd, as if he couldn’t fathom the situation.

“There’s always that type. Thinks biting their tongue will save them somehow?”

“……?”

“Biting your tongue just cuts your tongue. Not having a tongue isn’t going to kill you! Does the tongue think, does the tongue pump blood? You’ve been digging dirt for twenty years and ended up completely loony?”

The Blood Sect Technician looked up at Qing with a face that shouted abandonment from the world.

“Ugh, I’m not dead? (Not dead?)”

“You will die, won’t you? When was the last time you brushed your teeth? Smashing your flesh like that will obviously lead to infection. Your tongue will rot, you’ll suffer a fever, and die. If you get lucky, you might survive as a mute.”

“Ugh….”

The Technician’s eyes turned sorrowful.

It seemed to reflect a desperate cry, questioning why the heavens and this world continued to deceive and mock him—blood pouring from his mouth as if to highlight the point.

“Ahh! Khack, hey…”

His eyes weren’t just expressing anguish; as he genuinely tried to speak, blood gushed from his tongue, choking him.

Coughing raised his blood pressure, and with it, blood flowed out continuously, thick and rhythmic.

Qing managed to glean some of the Blood Sect’s principles during this unwanted cooperation process.

There’s a saying that every grave has its excuse; these Blood Sect Technicians all had their reasons to hate the world.

Because the world hated them, they decided to hate it back.

Isn’t wanting to destroy the world just a tad extreme for being victimized by it?

Who is the enemy that took away my family?

The Central Plainers!

So I shall eradicate the Central Plainers!

It’s quite the leap in logic, but surely this isn’t the first time someone’s thought like this, right?

Just looking at the future that hasn’t unfolded yet says so much.

Where does my suffering (poverty) come from?

From those who have, those who learn, from parents who bequeathed me poverty and their ancestors who made my life miserable.

So I’ll beat the rich (the rich deserve to die), those so-called teachers, physicians, technicians, and smash everything left by my fateful ancestors!

I am innocent, and there’s a reason for my massacre!

When people see someone this self-assured, they only click their tongues.

Tsk tsk, what a madman.

And yet, as Qing continued to torment the pitiful descendants of the Blood Sect, he found himself full of compassion.

Having twisted their limbs and thrown them around, he wished they could live as long as possible before they finally died.

And so, at the entrance to the central control room.

A sturdy iron door blocked their way.

Its rough build seemed to scream that it wasn’t an ordinary door.

Weighing thousands of jin and thicker than a hand’s width, it was the very essence of security, made from a mechanical system rather than just stone.

If forced open, the passage would collapse forever.

If no one from inside opens it, they wouldn’t be able to pass—truly the quintessence of the mechanisms the Blood Sect had built.

While Blood Sect Technicians were definitely tough nuts to crack, they didn’t seem to lie enough to warrant testing them.

What if their unduly risky attempt to crack it caused the passage to collapse?

Then Qing and his crew wouldn’t get to see the Leader of Blood Sect’s face.

To get to the secret manual, they’d need to go around through the lower-level passage.

Which would mean the Leader of Blood Sect would likely immediately sense something was off outside and open a way to the treasure room.

Then, the undeserving fortunate ones wandering down there looking for Demonic Arts would end up acquiring the secret manual.

If that occurred, retrieving it and incinerating it would become much more difficult.

“Hmm. So what do we do now?”

“I had a plan in mind, though.”

Qing explained his covert strategy, and Cheon Yu-hak frowned.

“Will that even work?”

“Isn’t it worth a shot? Sword friend, I’m counting on you.”

“Leave it to me.”

Namgoong Shin-jae nodded solemnly.

He drew his sword, targeting the iron door and, *clunk*, he quickly retrieved it with the speed of light.

Then, raising his fist, he pounded the iron door fiercely.

*Bang bang bang bang bang!*

“Lord! Lord! We’re in trouble! Right now, huff, it’s bad! Really bad!”

His voice was urgent, as if he might pass out at any moment.

This was also the moment Qing discovered an unexpected talent in Namgoong Shin-jae.

What’s going on? Why’s he so good at acting?

I still don’t get why he unsheathed his sword just to stick it back in its sheath.

Namgoong Shin-jae repeatedly hammered the iron door, putting on quite the show.

Anyone who saw it would truly believe there was a major crisis at hand.

Right?

Actually, from the Blood Sect’s perspective, it’s indeed quite a big deal.

Qing’s expression slowly transformed into ‘that expression.’

—What the heck! You! How many times have I told you to report through the propaganda channels, following proper procedures? Do you really think that door could just fall? You airhead! Since it’s open, hurry up and get in!

A shrill, grating voice echoed, followed by the metallic *clank* of gears engaging.

It was the moment the essence of the Blood Sect’s mechanical system became undone.

“No way, this actually worked? Are all Blood Sect members just brain-dead?”

“Hey! Everyone’s lives are basically the same, right? It’s all the same in the end.”

No matter how good the facility, it’s the people who run it that truly matters.

Amazingly, Qing’s scheme succeeded.

He wasn’t going into it fully confident; he knew the risks and wasn’t going to complain if it failed.

They felt safe in their own little bubble, letting their guard down, which led to the main control room’s security being absurdly wide open.

Honestly, the failure of the lower ranks mirrored the laziness of the upper ranks.

If the Leader of Blood Sect himself had maintained order and preached the importance of security, the disciples wouldn’t have acted so carelessly.

As the military saying goes, this is exactly what military discipline means, a fundamental tenet for every soldier.

Listening to Qing’s explanation, Cheon Yu-hak clicked his tongue.

On one hand, he felt quite pleased.

Yeah, my kid may not seem like a thinker, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders.

How did heaven grant such a brilliant mind to this child?

“I’ve raised my disciple very well. I’ll retire now, and from here on out, you’re in charge.”

“Hey, what are you saying, Master? How could I ever take your place?”

“That’s not important.”

—The door opened! Have you gone deaf banging like that? First, you say there’s a crisis, then you solved it by making a ruckus!? Who’s rattling on like that!?

Just listening to his words makes it clear he’s quite a feisty old man.

Why not just say stop banging? Instead, he hammers on, making the security door fall!

And if he wants them to come in faster, he’s gonna make a fuss about it!

It’s truly amazing how some people can manage to be so obnoxious while talking.

As Qing opened the iron door, another iron door appeared at the end of the passage, about half a Zhang long.

Cautiously, wondering if anyone might catch on and play tricks, Qing stealthily moved and gently pushed against the door.

But instead of resistance, it opened smoothly with a creaking sound as the metal warped.

And finally, the person who had been digging underground for twenty years, without ever getting a speck of dirt on his fingers, emerged.

Born is one thing, but an elderly impression shapes up from years of living.

Sure enough, an irritable old man met Qing’s gaze, wearing an expression that clearly questioned who he was.

“What? Who the—”

Am Ha-ryong’s words abruptly cut off.

He saw Qing’s entourage entering behind him and grimaced deeply, letting out a long sigh.

“Those damn fools! I told them to keep an eye on those martial artists below and just open the door, not to blow open our front gate!”

“Isn’t it a bit much for a grandfather to say that? I have a feeling those damn fools learned a thing or two from you.”

So who opened the door to the central control room, huh?

“My lack of rigor led to this mess. But since we’ve eaten and slept together down here for twenty years, bear with it just a bit longer; the day of revenge will come. It’s just pathetic to let it come to this. Who can I blame?”

He had pretty much let it all slide.

Qing casually searched his insides.

“Who are you blaming for this?”

But it didn’t resonate.

“The heavens, of course. Those heavens will not rest until they devour me whole! I simply wanted to wipe out those Central Plain beasts who are even lower than mere animals! That would be beneficial to both the heavens and this world! Why do they keep meddling, huh?”

Is this a sudden outburst of logic?

It sounds pretty engaging, but honestly, it was a viewpoint that came from a time before its own.

The Central Plainers of this era were probably superior to the average human being worldwide.

At the very least, they were superior to those who could accept both the white and black folk as equals.

Because, at the end of the day, whether it’s a red-haired (white) guy or a black one, all the invading tribes from the outskirts are simply barbaric outsiders.

Surprisingly, the treatment of the Central Plainers was not as bad as it could be!

After all, they didn’t treat them like rare animals, stacking them together like cargo, or throw them into the fields after using them up to say they ‘got good use’ from them!

Anyways, Qing put his hands on his waist.

“No, what’s the problem? Why are you so desperate about your blood and resources?”

“Ha! You think someone like you could understand our sorrows?”

Am Ha-ryong scoffed smugly.

“Do you even know what hunger is? Have you ever been so hungry you chewed and swallowed a passing bug?”

“Um… yes.”

“You have?”

“Hehe. I also come from a poor background.”

Am Ha-ryong’s argument hit a wall.

Naturally, it was impossible for him to formulate a comeback when the branch of logic he had leaned on shattered instantly.

Qing was undoubtedly the only one able to stand firm in the face of the Blood Sect’s grievances against the world.

He still sometimes dreamed of those miserable times.

Those cruel Central Plainers never once offered him a hint of charity.

Of course, the Central Plainers also had their own grievances.

Isn’t it a little weird to show kindness to a sickly beggar whose face is so twisted and disfigured that it might infect others just by sharing the same air?

So did Qing hate the Central Plainers?

Did he grit his teeth and vow vengeance on these treacherous, wicked, shameless primitives, swearing to wipe them all out?

Not at all.

What Qing wished for was kindness, which he thought may still exist somewhere in this world.

Even while harboring the ill will of Heaven’s Kill.

And so, Qing wandered.

And now, Qing no longer searches for kindness.

But he still wanders.

Like a pig, he finds himself overwhelmed with desires, clinging tightly to the relationships he’s built, confronting the existential dread and cosmic terror that is the state of being, roaming the world.

And thus, a wandering soul who wants to find a place to settle down smiles brightly and says,

“Now, if you hand over the Heart Consumption Technique willingly, there won’t be any bloodshed. In either outcome, it’s death for you, so how about you go out clean rather than exhausted?”

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