Chapter 55

If left alone, he looked like he might grab someone by the collar.

Unable to bear the sight, Qing spoke up.

“You’re gonna talk instead of using a good weapon? I’ll let the winner go…”

By the time he got to “let go,” one of his men had already swung a sword.

Seems like the captain wasn’t exactly a nice guy.

“Gack, you…!”

Yeom Saraydal, who’d just been stabbed in the side, coughed up blood.

Normally, if you stab someone in the side, they usually die.

Even a master couldn’t escape that fate.

“The Divine Sect believes in the survival of the fittest, so there’s no need to feel too wronged.”

His subordinate, who had sneakily struck with a knife, threw out some unnecessarily cool words.

But it wasn’t entirely wrong.

No one in the Divine Sect would blame anyone for this situation.

Being weak was a crime.

The one who survives is the victor.

That’s all there is to it.

Yeom Saraydal got stabbed by his guy.

Might as well mock him for a good laugh.

That was the vibe of the Heavenly Demon Sect.

Heavenly Demon Sect!

Its roots lay in a religious group called the Sun-Moon Sect.

Originally, it stemmed from Zoroastrianism brought from the West, which was transformed over time into the Sun-Moon Sect to suit the tastes of the Chinese people.

The Sun-Moon Sect believed that the whole Central Plains should inherit the will of the one god Ahura Mazda and the demon Angra Mainyu.

They were dreaming of religious victory.

And they actually took action.

It was a kind of reform attempt.

And the rulers would never tolerate challenges from religious fanatics.

The emperor harshly suppressed the Sun-Moon Sect.

As a result, the Sun-Moon Sect fled to the barren land of Xinjiang, forming a community dreaming of revenge.

The representative of this community was the highest master of the Divine Sect, who led them to safety against the imperial guards.

He ascended as the new sect leader and proclaimed:

“Oh heavens, Ahura Mazda. Lead us toward the end of the world, demon Angra Mainyu. Let’s unite heaven and demon, and call it the Heavenly Demon.”

And thus, the Heavenly Demon Sect was born.

They always gnashed their teeth, hoping to someday stain the land of the Central Plains with the divine flame of their sect.

In fact, whenever they were on the verge of being forgotten, they launched an invasion of the Central Plains’ martial world.

From the first raid, the second, third, and fourth.

It was the history of the Four Great Demon Wars.

The Central Plains, having witnessed the bloodshed, stripped the Heavenly Demon Sect of any good names and called it the Demon Sect.

To the believers, it was the Heavenly Demon Sect, but to the people of the Central Plains, it was just the Demon Sect—two names, one essence.

“Uh… Great Hero?”

The victorious subordinate glanced at Qing.

<Qing asked, “Where's the Magic Flute?”

“It’s in the author’s possession.”

The subordinate pointed to Yeom Saraydal.

Yeom, who was dying, glared with all his might.

But who’s afraid of a guy who’s on the verge of death?

“Alright. Then go.”

“Thank you for the future favor.”

The subordinate took the authority to attack and leaped away.

Qing immediately stretched out his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

Bam! With the sound of a bell shaking the stone tomb, his subordinate’s backside exploded.

The two legs that lost their butts traced different parabolas, and the remaining torso fell pitifully onto the grave slab.

The bottom of the torso burst open, and the innards spilled out.

The subordinate looked on with a wronged expression.

“Uwe, ue…”

“Why, what’s ‘why’? I said I’d let you go, didn’t I? I never said I wouldn’t attack. If you wanted to live, you should’ve dodged.”

“Sssubuu…”

With a look of grievance, the subordinate took his last breath.

Qing whistled as he rummaged through the corpses’ belongings.

Grabbing relics was a rightful privilege of the victor.

“Ah. Just dog hair…”

Is it too much to ask to hold onto some cash?

The best loot he could find was a pouch for his thigh and a pretty flower decoration pinned there.

Did this guy love flower patterns while looking like a bandit?

Qing strapped the pouch to his thigh and hitched it up.

Even spreading his legs wide didn’t feel uncomfortable—now that was some high-quality gear.

Looks like he wouldn’t need to grab a handful of chopsticks at every tavern anymore.

And finally, the ten thousand gold, or rather, the Magic Flute, was now in Qing’s grasp.

Surprisingly heavy, perhaps due to its length, it felt cool in his hands.

With a hole down its long body, it seemed to indeed be a flute.

But with no decorations, it looked more like a rusty club at first glance.

Wow. With something like this, the grip would be amazing.

Woosh. Woosh. Qing swung the Magic Flute around.

The weight and length of the grip were superb.

Even that legendary blacksmith probably wouldn’t have made it for emergencies.

If Banqi had seen, he would have cried tears of blood.

With the Magic Flute tucked away on his back, Qing looked around.

The dying torchlight flickered over the messy tomb.

He approached the stone coffin in the center, gently spread the threads of the rotten skeleton’s faded silk robe, and closed the lid.

Qing flew up through the hole in the ceiling.

And then.

As the torch ran out, darkness wrapped around the disordered tomb.

—-

The sect leader of the Great Justice Gate, Wang Gae-yuk, was all smiles.

It made sense, as he had achieved the greatest success of his fifty-seven years.

Sure, a few doors got damaged, but there were no serious injuries.

And they had defeated the entire raiding party of the Demon Sect.

Moreover, they unintentionally completed the rescue of the missing persons.

Though they were in terrible condition, having been starved thin, and there were only about thirty of them left, a mere half.

Since they hadn’t expected to rescue anyone in the first place, it was just a pleasant surprise.

However, the missing persons didn’t know much.

Having been lured by Wang Son-man’s scheme to make some big scores, they ended up being told to dig after being handed a shovel.

Since the Forward Blue Wave Unit was either dead or fled, they had no idea what the Demon Sect’s real goal was.

Just that they seemed to have tried to loot some unknown person’s grave—that was all.

With Qing having taken the ten-thousand-gold trophy, everything ended there.

In fact, Qing didn’t even try to hide his efforts.

“What’s that?”

“Ah, ah. It seems you don’t know. This is called a ‘flute’. You blow into it to make sounds.”

“…That’s not what I’m asking. Can’t you bring something that actually looks decent? Why pick up something that looks like trash?”

In the first place, musical instruments were supposed to be flashy items.

The significance of music was ultimately to enchant people.

In the past, music made you forget the hardships of labor or added solemnity to rituals, instilling a sense of reverence.

Now, it could help one forget the sorrows of love or enhance the enjoyment of drinking.

So musicians tried to please not only the ears, but also the eyes—thus, the flamboyance of instruments was an appropriate evolution of their inherent purpose.

In that sense, the Magic Flute looked nothing more than a dull black stick.

“If you knew how much this is worth, you’d be surprised too.”

“What, a couple of coins?”

“Pang, bro, at this rate, it’s not even worth scrap metal. But I’d say it’s worth at least one silver ingot!”

“Little brothers are too obsessed with appearances. Surprisingly, that kind of thing could be a treasure… maybe…”

Chang-bin’s voice trailed off and faded away.

Qing looked his way, something pricking at him, because he knew all too well.

It was a rare insight from a disciple of the sect.

However, Chang-bin’s treatment had never been that great.

Pang Dae-san and Namgoong Shin-jae just let it go and moved on.

They thought he should at least make some sense.

“Swordmaster, do you actually know how to play the flute?”

Namgoong Shin-jae asked in surprise.

Qing thought it was a bit much to say if he were a woman.

Playing an instrument was a basic skill for women.

But Qing was a man.

He couldn’t care less.

“Flute? What’s to it? Just blow.”

Qing took the Magic Flute and put it to his mouth.

Since Seomun Sulin occasionally played the flute, his posture imitated hers well enough.

The three of them looked at him, wondering if he might be able to play it.

Sure enough, all they heard was a loud whooshing sound of wind.

Qing, feeling stubborn, huffed and puffed hard into it.

One would expect some noise, but all that came out was just a blowing sound, like the wind rushing through emptiness.

Qing frowned.

“Damn it. Is this thing broken?”

Sani stared at him in disbelief.

He must have blown so hard, his face was all red.

“…You can’t just blow hard and expect sounds to come out.”

“What? Sani, you know how to play?”

“Simple tunes, sure.”

“Oh, a man who can make music. That’s impressive. Well then, show us a song!”

Qing offered the Magic Flute.

Pang Dae-san reached out to take it, but upon seeing the shiny marks around the mouthpiece, he recoiled.

“What’s wrong? Why?”

“…Please don’t offer me something you’ve put your lips on so carelessly. Can’t you act a bit more like a woman? How do you think other guys will see you?”

Oh really, now he’s laying on the nagging too.

Since things looked ridiculous, who cares if they saw it as funny?

Qing scratched his head and then, as usual, let down his hair again before tying it back up.

His hair-tying skills were top-notch; he took the hair tie in his mouth and swiftly wrapped it up, spinning and pinning it with a hairpin.

Once he tied a knot to finish, not a single strand of hair slipped through.

What a monumental achievement!

“What’s the issue? We’re friends, right? Hm? Or not?”

Thinking about it, was it even more awkward to be friends?

Qing remembered his school days.

It seemed like a recorder was something you could never borrow or lend.

That was just too awkward.

“Swordmaster, why not just play some gold instead? At least that would make some sound.”

“What are you talking about?”

Qing shot a glare at him.

But Namgoong Shin-jae’s suggestion was sincere, not playful, which only made him more determined.

“Just wait, I’ll show you that I can make this produce some sound. Really.”

Pang Dae-san shook his head in disbelief.

“…With a flute in hand, how could you say you’ll make it produce sound?”

“Just wait and see.”

And so, throughout their journey to Hwasan, Qing carried the Magic Flute with him.

But it didn’t make a sound.

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