Chapter 47: Searching for Someone
The sect leader of the Daizheng Sect, Wang Gae-yuk, the First Saber of Huangquan, was a good man.
Qing could tell just by looking at the mountain of snacks piled on the tea table.
And in truth, his reputation was clean—he had maintained a virtuous life, making him fully deserving of his position as the leader of an Orthodox sect.
While Namgung Shin-jae maintained a careful distance, engaging in polite conversation, Qing did what was most important—she ate.
With the slightly bitter regional tea called Banhan-cha[^"Pinellia ternata tea." Pinellia ternata is a traditional Chinese medicinal herb.], they were served two types of pastries and a pile of deep-fried dough twists.
Youtiao[^long golden-brown deep-fried strip of wheat flour dough of Chinese origin and (by a variety of other names) also popular in other East and Southeast Asian cuisines. Wiki] was a fried pastry made from flour dough.
It was one of Qing’s favorite snacks.
It tasted exactly like the twisted donuts she used to eat back home.
And well—it made sense. The recipe was the same, so the taste had to be identical.
Meanwhile, Go was a general term for hardened pastries—they could be sweet, tangy, or even salty.
Qing never held back when it came to food.
In fact, she sometimes thought that the only redeeming quality of this body was its massive stomach capacity.
If she was being honest, her obsession with food was entirely due to the suffering she endured in this primitive, barbaric ancient China.
It was like giving someone an illness and then offering them medicine.
But for now, the pressing matter was filling her stomach with pastries.
…Oh, right.
That wasn’t the actual reason they came here.
"Ah, Sect Leader. By any chance, do you know someone named Yi Ha-sam?"
"Yi Ha-sam? Hmm… Was there a disciple by that name? Let’s see… I don’t recall anyone like that. Haha, I apologize, but I don’t remember every disciple’s name. But why do you ask?"
"Well, you see…"
Qing recounted the incident at the side gate.
Upon hearing the story, Wang Gae-yuk clapped his fist into his palm.
"Ah, that old woman! Yes, I know of her. It’s unfortunate, truly… but I have no idea why she keeps using our sect’s name."
"So, you were aware?"
"Of course. Her situation was so pitiful that we even tried asking around. But let me tell you—this Yi Ha-sam fellow is a disgraceful wretch."
"A wretch?"
"He was addicted to gambling. Lost everything—even sold his own wife to a brothel. Most likely, he ran away to escape his debt collectors. And yet, the bastard still had the nerve to use our sect’s name. Tsk, tsk."
Wang Gae-yuk clicked his tongue, clearly displeased.
And he wasn’t lying.
Qing suddenly recalled what the old woman had said.
"He said he took on an important job at the Daizheng Sect… that once he finished it, he’d bring his wife back and start over."
That phrase—"bring his wife back"—was odd.
He wasn’t storing her somewhere, so why would he need to find her?
If he had sold her, then the only way to "bring her back" was to buy her back with money.
At that moment, Wang Gae-yuk casually changed the subject.
"Ah, my sons have been eager to meet such esteemed guests. May I introduce them?"
Qing glanced at Namgung Shin-jae.
Their eyes met, exchanging an unspoken conversation.
"Is this… the price for the tea?"
"Indeed."
They understood each other perfectly.
If you eat, you have to pay.
And since they had to wait for Peng Daesan and Chang bin anyway, talking with some noble brats wouldn’t hurt.
—
When Peng Daesan and Changbin returned, their findings were not all that different.
Yi Ha-sam was a gambling addict who sold his own wife and likely ran away from his debts.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
"There have been many cases like his. People disappearing in a similar way. And those who knew Yi Ha-sam said he was acting like he had a big score lined up."
"And the Daizheng Sect—are they actually involved?"
"No. The amount of food coming in and food waste going out hasn’t changed at all. That means there’s no kidnapping involved."
Peng Daesan relayed what the information broker had told him.
The courtesan broker had been so captivated by him that she practically gave away all her information for free.
As always, beauty was power.
"The only external activity of the Daizheng Sect is basic patrol duty. They haven’t sent anyone outside, so there’s no reason to suspect them."
"So… does that mean he really just ran away? What about the Beggar’s Sect? You asked them too, right?"
"The begg— Wait. That expression."
Peng Daesan visibly shuddered.
It was that face again.
That "I have no idea what you’re talking about" face.
"Wait… You don’t know what the Beggar’s Sect is?"
"I don’t?"
At this point, he couldn’t even be surprised anymore.
Qing’s ignorance had gone beyond absurd.
Actually—no. It wasn’t ignorance.
It was apathy.
Qing wasn’t uninformed—she just never cared.
She never made an effort to learn, never bothered to ask questions, and—until now—had never even had the opportunity to ask.
The only thing that interested her was food.
Even Ximen Surin, who had been horrified by her ignorance, had only taught her alot of basic common sense.
Because who would ever think to teach her things that were so obvious that she assumed everyone knew them.
How could anyone imagine someone wouldn’t know something so basic?
And so, only today did Qing finally learn what the Beggar’s Sect actually was.
She also learned that—
The shabby, rope-wearing beggars she had seen wandering the streets were actually members of the Beggar’s Sect.
The elderly beggar with the seven knots in his sash—the one who always bothered her for attention—was actually a high-ranking leader of the sect.
And that—no matter how important he was, he was still ranked below her in the martial hierarchy.
Which meant…
She didn’t need to care.
—
"Over the past two months, over thirty people have gone missing under similar circumstances. Most were seen escaping, but something about it doesn’t add up."
"Wait, so—are you saying they all ran away together?"
"More likely, someone is luring people away, promising huge rewards in the name of the Daizheng Sect."
"Oh. The beggars are smarter than I expected."
Qing nodded in admiration.
Something felt off.
"That’s it? Why do only the beggars know about this? The Daizheng Sect has no clue? Shouldn’t someone have at least investigated?"
Peng Daesan responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"These were just lowlives throwing their lives away for one last gamble. Why bother looking for them?"
"Huh?"
Qing turned to Namgung Shin-jae.
Namgung Shin-jae spoke, his tone indifferent.
"A man who sold his own wife? It would be better for his mother if he just disappeared."
"Huh?!"
Qing whipped her head around to look at Changbin.
Changbin, who had been nodding along, suddenly met her gaze and—very naturally—lowered his eyes.
Wait… am I the weird one here?
Qing suddenly felt wrongfully accused and protested.
"Really? But what if someone’s plotting something?"
Namgung Shin-jae just gave her a look.
"Qing, would fighting thirty third-rate martial artists be difficult for you?"
"Of course not?"
Peng Daesan casually referred to her as Qing, but no one seemed to notice.
"If even third-rate fighters pose no problem, then what kind of scheme could possibly involve thirty desperate, undisciplined criminals?"
"Oh."
Now that he put it that way… it did kind of make sense.
But that wasn’t the real issue, was it?
"Brother Changbin. Say something, will you?"
"Uh… Well… Lady Qing. The thing is… this isn’t really our problem to solve."
Changbin hesitated, glancing at her warily.
He was struggling, trying to decide whether to drop formalities.
Qing nodded.
She had already declared they were friends—why was he still hesitating? This kind of timidness was actually impressive in its own way.
"This is a matter for the authorities. Eventually, it’s something the government should handle."
Non-intervention between martial artists and the state.
In the martial world, there was an unspoken rule: government officials and martial artists do not interfere with each other.
This was why murders between martial artists weren’t considered crimes.
But if a martial artist killed a civilian, they would be hunted and bounty notices would be issued. If the crime was severe enough, the government’s elite warriors would be dispatched to cut them down.
"Of course, some noble martial families—like the Xinzhang Yang Clan—have taken it upon themselves to protect civilians, even shedding blood for generations. But should they really be fighting off invaders just because the government is too incompetent? Their estate isn’t even near the coast, so foreign raiders shouldn’t concern them at all."
"Wait, the Shinchang Yang Clan? That Yang Clan?"
Qing frowned.
To her, that name was synonymous with pedophiles.[^ From Chapter 18. "I am Yang Chaemu of the Yang Clan." He wants Jangmyeong's body for his father, shes the middle schooler. She calls him a child diddler in that chapter.]
Ah… I wonder how Jangmyeong is doing?
She had said she’d return when it got colder. Maybe she’d stop by home at the Divine Maiden Sect after checking out Mount Hua.
And yet, something felt missing.
Something… something important.
"What is it? Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something?"
Something obvious was missing.
Then suddenly, she realized the answer.
—The System Window.
More precisely—no quest window had popped up.
Why?
By now, there should have been a random quest popping up, disrupting her mood.
Something like—“Emergency Quest! Something something! Blah blah blah!”
Had she defeated it somehow?
Feeling uneasy, Qing summoned her quest window.
A floating interface appeared in her vision.
She skimmed through her completed quests.
And then—her pupils trembled.
Random quests didn’t just appear out of nowhere.
They only showed up when Qing was:
- Insulted or threatened.
- About to engage in a fight between martial artists.
Which meant—this missing persons case didn’t qualify.
Qing clamped her mouth shut.
A sudden nausea threatened to force up all the snacks she had just eaten.
"Ugh… This damn system… it’s annoying when it shows up and annoying when it doesn’t."
Did the quest system actually pick and choose based on who was involved?
Then what the hell were good karma points and bad karma points?
Were government laws and martial world ethics being judged separately?
What were the actual criteria?
Was the system arbitrarily assigning morality points, and was morality itself even relevant?
And if that was the case…
Then what about her?
What about all the things she had done?
—
"Qing!"
Peng Daesan’s voice snapped her back to reality.
"Are you alright? Your face just went pale."
"No, I’m… Not fine, actually."
Qing’s hands trembled slightly.
Her throat was dry.
But this wasn’t a thirst that could be quenched with water or wine.
Blood.
She needed to see blood.
And then—she suddenly remembered.
There was someone she was allowed to kill.
Just hold on a little longer.
Tonight… she’d see blood.
"Hoo…"
She forced herself to calm down, exhaling deeply.
—
"Sword Comrade."
Namgung Shin-jae’s voice was filled with concern.
"What?"
"Well, I was just wondering…"
For some reason, he was hesitating.
Unlike his usual straightforward demeanor, he seemed unsure.
Qing tilted her head, and after a moment, Namgung Shin-jae awkwardly continued.
"I was thinking… if we go by the timing, could it be… you know… that thing?"
"What thing? Speak clearly, Sword Brother."
"No, I mean, just wait a moment."
Namgung Shin-jae rummaged through his bag and pulled out a small bundle.
"Here, take this."
"Huh? What is it? A gift? Are you trying to cheer me up? Because if you are, then congrats—you succeeded. But seriously, what is this? Some kind of ‘black remedy’?"
Black remedy.
She had just blurted it out randomly, but the term sounded oddly familiar.
However, Namgung Shin-jae didn’t react, so she didn’t get to enjoy teasing him.
"It’s poppy leaves."
"Poppy? Like… opium poppy? Why the hell are you giving me this?"
Qing unfolded the bundle, revealing neatly dried leaves wrapped inside. A faint, earthy scent drifted up—calming, like a dense forest.
"If things get too hard… just chew on one leaf at a time."
"Huh… It’s not that bad yet. But… thanks, I guess."
Qing’s acceptance was hesitant.
Because seriously—who gets excited about receiving drugs?
No matter how she looked at it, it just felt wrong.
