Chapter 123: Tang Clan's Paper Flower

Martial artists rarely fall ill.

This is because both External and Internal Arts fundamentally include functions that significantly boost one's health and constitution.

Qing herself had survived an entire winter wearing only a single layer of thin, almost see-through cloth without catching even a sniffle; minor ailments simply couldn't breach the defenses of a seasoned martial artist's body.

Even setting aside martial artists, compared to the population of Qing’s original homeland, the people of the Central Plains seemed unreasonably robust in general.

So, the news that Jayu had suddenly fallen ill struck Qing as somewhat… strange.

So he really was a weakling, huh?

Guess I shouldn’t underestimate the insight of a traditional doctor.

Still, she decided, ought to pay a visit to a sick friend.

Besides, as a long-term guest here, it’s not like I have anything better to do anyway.

Normally, when a friend was sick, the proper etiquette involved sending at least a message inquiring about their well-being.

Humans are creatures that tend to become overly sensitive when ill; neglect during sickness often transforms minor slights into deep-seated resentment.

Thus, Qing made her way to Jayu’s quarters. When she saw him lying weakly in bed, his complexion was indeed pale, but… Hmm? Wasn’t his complexion always kind of pale anyway?

“W-What brings you here?” Jayu asked, looking surprised and slightly flustered by her sudden appearance.

“What do you mean?” Qing replied bluntly. “Heard you were sick, so I came to see how you were doing. Feeling any better? Let me check, do you have a fever?”

Without waiting for an answer, Qing casually placed the back of her palm flat against Jayu’s forehead.

In reality, this common method of checking for fever was practically useless in her case.

Due to the lingering effects of her White Hand Demonic Arts, Qing’s hands were perpetually cool to the touch. Consequently, whether she touched his forehead or any other part of his body, it would likely feel warm in comparison, giving the false impression of a fever.

For Jayu, however, her sudden proximity and casual touch were deeply shocking.

Her visit itself already skirted the strict separation between unrelated men and women generally observed in the Central Plains; allowing her to actually touch his forehead? Unthinkable!

Perhaps it was the unexpected cool contact, but he immediately felt heat rising rapidly to his face.

“Oooh,” Qing remarked, withdrawing her hand. “Definitely quite hot, huh? Your face is bright red, too.”

“No, that’s just…” Jayu started, then trailed off, unable to explain his blush or the fake illness.

Originally, in the Central Plains, claiming to be bedridden was an almost invincible trump card, a universally understood signal meaning, "I am absolutely not receiving any guests right now, go away."

The Tang Clan was essentially synonymous with medical expertise; they had focused intensely on advancing their medical arts since the era of the Celestial Martial Emperor.

As practically the preeminent medical family in the entire Central Plains, surely they would have at least performed a basic pulse diagnosis on an esteemed guest like Jayu?

Thus, an unspoken agreement had clearly been reached between Jayu and the Tang Clan physicians: “Ah, this esteemed guest is obviously faking it. However, since he claims to be sick, we shall simply diagnose him with a mild cold or exhaustion and leave it at that.” A diplomatic solution achieved without a single word exchanged.

“Come on,” Qing chided him, completely oblivious to the social maneuvering. “How can a grown man be this weak? You seem to come from a pretty well-off family; couldn’t you just pick up some decent martial arts manual and learn to strengthen your body?”

“Well… Um…” Jayu hesitated again.

But Qing had always operated miles away from common sense or social nuance.

Her expressions were inherently, almost painfully, honest.

The genuine concern shining clearly in those large, direct eyes somehow silenced Jayu’s planned excuses.

For a moment, he found himself thinking that no precious gem in the world, no matter how rare or brilliantly sparkling, could possibly compare to the clarity in those eyes.

“What? Why are you staring?” Qing asked, breaking the spell.

“No, it’s nothing,” Jayu replied hastily, snapping back to reality.

He subtly darted a glance towards Choi Leeong, who stood impassively nearby.

Hey! Jayu’s look seemed to say. Didn’t you teach this girl any basic common sense?! You must have known I was faking it, right?! Why didn't you tell her?!

Choi Leeong merely snorted silently in response.

And why, exactly, should I feel obligated to tell the child, who is genuinely worrying about you, that you’re just faking it and she needn't waste her concern? You rascal. Minus twenty points for attempting to shift blame.

And thus, Jayu plummeted dramatically from his potential lead in Choi Leeong’s internal ‘potential companion for Qing’ competition.

(Though, of course, what possible use Choi Leeong’s arbitrary point system actually served remained a mystery.)

Suddenly, another thought occurred to Jayu, and he asked urgently,

“Wait a moment! Isn’t the Tang Clan compound in quite an uproar right now? How is it that you haven’t left yet? Especially considering they’ve been implicated in treason!”

Qing casually tapped the crown of Jayu’s head with the edge of her hand.

“Your speech,” she reminded him pointedly. “Just because you’re pretending to be sick doesn’t mean you get to revert back to that formal crap, okay?”

“That’s not the important thing right now!” Jayu protested.

“No, seriously, what is wrong with people here?” Qing complained, exasperated. “When I was just a guest, mooching off their food, getting free lodging and pocket money, everything was fine! But the moment they actually need some help, everyone suddenly changes their tune, makes excuses, and runs away?”

“No, but treason is a serious—”

“Look, I was originally planning to head over to the Emei Sect soon anyway,” Qing explained. “But with this whole imperial investigation suddenly happening… leaving now would make it seem like I just ate their food and then ditched them the moment things got difficult. So, I figured I should at least stick around and help out a bit, you know?”

Again, Jayu glanced towards Choi Leeong, his expression pleading.

She clearly doesn’t grasp the profound danger associated with being implicated in treason! Why didn’t you warn her properly?!

Choi Leeong just snorted again, unimpressed.

Choi had absolutely no reason to dissuade Qing.

Firstly, his fundamental attitude towards her was essentially: Do whatever the hell you want.

Secondly, he knew Qing was someone who, despite her recklessness, guarded her own life with obsessive tenacity. Her staying ‘to help’ definitely didn’t mean she intended to join some suicidal last stand.

Thirdly, her movement skills was so outstanding that very few people in the world could possibly catch her if she decided to flee.

Fourthly, as a high-ranking Daoist elder (by lineage) personally backed by the Zenith Among Women (the Matriarch), even the imperial government couldn’t push her too far without risking major repercussions.

And finally, if all else failed, wasn't there always the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult as a potential (albeit deeply problematic) fallback?

Above all else, Choi Leeong simply couldn't bear the thought of enduring Qing’s inevitable resentment again if he tried to block her path or interfere with her decisions.

Seeing Choi Leeong’s complete lack of intention to intervene, Jayu finally let out a heavy sigh and spoke directly to Qing again.

“Haah. Look here, Friend.”

“What?”

“This matter… it will not be easily resolved or quickly forgotten. The Imperial Family must have been waiting for just such an opportunity for a very long time. Ever since that… that outrageous incident involving the so-called Celestial Martial Emperor.”

The shockwaves sent through the Imperial Family after the Celestial Martial Emperor’s legendary attack on the imperial palace itself had been truly earth-shattering, heaven-overturning.

Until that point, powerful martial artists were viewed merely as troublesome local strongmen, ultimately containable threats,

perhaps useful tools for governance in remote regions.

The Central Plains were simply too vast for the Emperor’s direct authority to reach everywhere effectively, so the court had historically maintained control by holding the leashes, so to speak, of the various sects and clans—the hunting dogs collectively known as the martial world.

However, the Celestial Martial Emperor had devastatingly proven that the martial prowess of a single, determined individual could indeed reach the heavens, potentially threatening the throne itself.

His actions had profoundly undermined the perceived authority of the Son of Heaven.

After all, even the Emperor himself, who supposedly inherited the orthodox lineage entrusted by Heaven to rule, couldn’t single-handedly crumble mountains or split the earth wielding only a sword.

“So,” Jayu urged her seriously, “leave the Tang Clan compound now, while you still can. Given the current tense situation, I doubt even they will try to hold you back.”

“Why should I?” Qing retorted stubbornly.

“Didn’t I just explain?” Jayu sounded exasperated now. “This investigation won’t be easily resolved! If you get caught up in accusations of treason, even you might not emerge unscathed!”

“Well, that’s my business to handle, isn’t it?” Qing replied dismissively. “Besides, isn’t this whole situation kinda funny when you think about it? That’s not even the most important question right now, is it?”

“Then what on earth could possibly be more important?” Jayu asked, bewildered.

“Shouldn’t we first try to determine if the Tang Clan is actually guilty or not?” Qing pointed out logically. “In my opinion, okay, maybe the Tang Clan isn’t exactly afraid of the Imperial Family, but did they really have any plausible reason to assassinate the Grand Prince? Even I can tell something about that whole situation seems fishy. Besides,” she added, “everyone says the Tang Clan makes tons of money selling poisons. So, finding Tang Clan poison doesn’t automatically prove the Tang Clan used it in this specific instance, right?”

Jayu frowned deeply.

Her words weren’t logically wrong, perhaps, but they displayed an utter lack of even the minimum required courtesy and respect towards the Imperial Family.

“Well,” he countered carefully, “is the Tang Clan truly innocent in all matters?”

“What?” Qing asked back sharply, surprised by his implication. “Are you saying the Tang Clan really did do it?”

If they actually poisoned the Prince, she thought, then that definitely changes things…

Just as Qing’s ears were about to perk up with intrigue, Jayu quickly shook his head and clarified.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. My point is… are these various martial sects, these self-proclaimed paragons of righteous expertise, truly innocent themselves? Aren’t they fundamentally just groups of thugs swinging swords, exploiting common civilians, blatantly ignoring government rule, and generally just doing whatever the hell they please? By what right do they operate?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Qing shot back instantly. “Okay, then by what right does the Emperor get to sit on his high-and-mighty throne and rule over everyone else?”

“…?”

Jayu’s expression turned completely dumbfounded.

“I mean, isn’t that the core issue?” Qing pressed on, warming to the argument. “Are we all just supposed to shut up and follow orders simply because someone was lucky enough to be born as the Emperor’s son? If both sides ultimately resort to intimidating and suppressing people with armies and force anyway, what’s the fundamental difference between the Imperial Family and the powerful martial sects?”

“How can you possibly say such things?!” Jayu sputtered, genuinely shocked now. “The Son of Heaven is bestowed authority by Heaven itself—”

“What absolute bullshit!” Qing scoffed loudly. “Bestowed by Heaven? What, did the Emperor tear through the sky when he was born and personally shout ‘I alone am noble above and below the heavens’?” [^(Reference to the legendary circumstances of the Buddha's birth.)]

“No! What—How dare— Such blasphemy!”

Jayu couldn’t even form a coherent sentence now.

For the people of the Central Plains, Qing’s words were profoundly extreme, almost unthinkable.

Princes and Vassals would rather have a son than a daughter[^(王侯將相寧有種乎; Famous quote from Chen Sheng's uprising against the Qin Dynasty, questioning the legitimacy of hereditary rule)].

The famous historical question posed by the rebel Chen Sheng centuries ago—“Are kings, nobles, generals, and ministers born to their positions?”—implying that lineage conferred no special right to rule, was considered an outrageous, treasonous sentiment uttered only by the most dangerous rebels.

“You… you shouldn’t carelessly say such things,” Jayu finally managed, looking genuinely worried for her now.

“Did I say something wrong?” Qing asked innocently. “From what I’ve personally seen, okay, maybe I don’t know about other sects, but doesn’t the Tang Clan actually seem qualified to act like kings around here? They drive out the Unorthodox Faction scumbags, they provide free medical care to everyone… I mean, just look at how they handled the Oyangjeuk fish incident!”

“That’s—” Jayu started, but Qing cut him off again.

“They spent their own gold putting bounties on the Oyangjeuk, they distributed counteragents into the wells, they basically did everything humanly possible to solve the problem! Of course,” she added with a smug grin, “in the end, the situation was ultimately resolved purely thanks to my own outstanding intellect and brilliant plan, but isn’t proactively dealing with public crises like that originally supposed to be the Emperor’s job in the first place?”

“…Ahem.”

Utterly at a loss for words, Jayu just coughed awkwardly into his fist again.

Qing clicked her tongue pityingly.

“You know, they say only those who never actually benefited from their ancestors are the ones who work hardest performing ancestral rites. Honestly, rather than wasting time praising some distant Emperor who hasn’t actually done anything useful for you, wouldn’t it be more practical to just become a martial artist yourself?”

“…Still,” Jayu cautioned her gravely, “such words should be kept only within your own heart and absolutely not spoken aloud in front of others. The mere act of uttering them could easily brand you as a traitor.”

“Hey, I have some tact, you know,” Qing retorted defensively. “You think I’d actually go around saying stuff like this in front of just anyone?”

(For reference, she was currently saying all this directly in front of the current Emperor’s younger brother.)

“Or what?” she added slyly, leaning closer. “Are you, my dear friend, going to run off and report that I said something treasonous?”

“That’s not it, but…” Jayu sighed, defeated.

“Then it’s fine!” Qing declared cheerfully. “Anyway, you just focus on taking care of yourself and getting better. I’m pretty confident I can slip away clean if things get really hairy, so I don’t mind sticking around. But you, Friend, should really just lie low and avoid getting caught up in any unnecessary trouble or stray sword fights. Just stay put in bed pretending to be sick, okay?”

After that, Qing chatted about trivial matters for a little while longer, then finally took her leave.

Left alone in the quiet guest room, Jayu stared blankly at the closed door. Then, three human shadows suddenly detached themselves from the ceiling rafters, dropping silently to the floor beside him.

“That… that thing… is definitely a traitor, isn’t she?” one of the shadows hissed, voice filled with outrage. “In all my years, I have never heard such terrible, blasphemous words spoken aloud!”

“Watch your tongue,” another shadow cautioned sharply—Old Dog’s voice. “How dare you refer to her as a ‘thing’? That is the woman His Highness has clearly taken a strong liking to.”

“Ah! Truly?!” the first shadow exclaimed, instantly backtracking. “This accursed mouth of mine! Your Highness, please pretend you didn’t hear that! This lowly one misspoke terribly!”

“No, no,” Jayu waved a dismissive hand, though a faint blush touched his cheeks. “Old Dog, please stop spreading such groundless slanders. If such rumors were to leak out, wouldn’t they unfairly damage an innocent woman’s marriage prospects?”

At this denial, Old Dog just smiled slyly under his mask.

Then the third shadow—this one possessing a distinctly feminine voice—spoke up.

“Even to this lowly woman’s eyes, she seems like quite an excellent woman, does she not? After all, is not the loyalty demonstrated after a bond is formed the true measure of a relationship? Her determination not to abandon her friends, even in difficult times… is that not truly admirable?”

“Didn’t Hag Yan clearly fiddle with her throwing knives earlier while glaring at the girl?” the first shadow grumbled suspiciously. “She was practically radiating killing intent! Now you suddenly change your words, making me look like the strange one here?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” Hag Yan[^(Her name is Yeon Pa)] replied instantly, playing dumb. “Your young eyes must be growing dim already, seeing things that aren’t there.”

Jayu frowned, cutting off the idle chatter.

“That’s enough from all of you. More importantly… did you find the rat?”

Instantly, the atmosphere among the three shadows turned cold and ominous.

The one with the youngest-sounding voice answered grimly.

“It was that bastard, Changnan Geumho—the Rotting Flying Fox. That treacherous cur deserves to be torn limb from limb! How dare he forget the immense grace he received personally from Your Highness! We never should have taken in that animal in the first place. He was wagging his tail so damn hard for that eunuch scum from the Eastern Depot [^(Infamous Ming Dynasty secret police agency run by eunuchs)], it was practically about to fall off.”