Chapter 239: Wanderers Have Their Own Code of Honor

Meanwhile, the Unaffiliated Guest Hall was filled only with a solemnity fit for a house in mourning. Gloom settled over them, and as they kept their mouths shut, it was so quiet you could practically hear a single ant crawl.

Even the sound of breathing felt awkward, forcing everyone to regulate their breaths uncomfortably.

Then, Wang Nopil[^Wang Nopil; known for using a chair as a weapon], a martial artist, suddenly spoke with a determined expression.

"We can't just keep waiting like this."

"Brother Wang," one of the wanderers replied, "But what can we possibly do? If the Gu Poison acts up, we'll just be rolling on the floor, becoming burdens."

"So you're saying we should just wait?" Wang Nopil asked. "When we don't know what torment Young Lady Ximen might be suffering, we're just going to sit here breathing?"

"Then what?" the other wanderer retorted. "Should we all charge in together and suffer alongside her? Will that make you feel better?"

Wang Nopil shook his head.

"No. But we can ask the experts of the Murim Alliance for help. We have no choice but to go bow our heads and plead for them to rescue Young Lady Ximen."

Doraeman of the Danyang Dao Technique stopped him.

"That won't do. Young Lady Ximen is a woman. If a scandal breaks out, she won't be able to hold her head high for the rest of her life. Didn't she tell us to wait because she had a plan? Right now, we must trust Young Lady Ximen and wait."

"Ha! Is her reputation the problem now?" Wang Nopil scoffed. "What does reputation matter if you're dead? Since Young Lady Ximen is also from a wanderer background, she surely values her life more than some trivial reputation—"

"If Young Lady Ximen, who thinks that way, allowed herself to be captured," Doraeman countered, "doesn't that make it even more likely she has a plan?"

Their opinions were divided.

Wang Nopil argued they should report it to the Murim Alliance immediately and launch a rescue mission, while Doraeman insisted they trust Qing and wait longer.

Just then, Ma Yeongjeon of the Ground Fist Technique interjected.

"Enough. What good will fighting amongst ourselves do? Uh, I heard Young Lady Ximen has an elder from the Divine Maiden Sect participating in the event with her. Shouldn't we at least inform her sect elder?"

All the wanderers agreed.

And so, they sent someone to the Mucheon Pavilion to request the presence of the Divine Maiden Sect elder.

As a result, Ximen Surin, summoned by the wanderers, was so dumbfounded and flabbergasted that she couldn't even manage a hollow laugh.

What did they say? Who summoned whom?

No matter how secretly they claimed they needed to speak with her, there were limits.

By age, seniority, and realm, Ximen Surin was a grand elder of the martial world, to whom comparing these wanderers was itself a grave discourtesy.

Of course, the wanderers might have an excuse.

Since Ximen Surin hadn't officially participated in the Murim Conference, she wasn't seated among the Murim Alliance's honored guests, nor in the elder seats above them—the so-called 'Old Experts' seats, for lack of a better term.

Therefore, mere wanderers couldn't possibly know the identity of the noblewoman occasionally seen beside Qing.

Even the scions of prestigious families didn't know; when they asked someone knowledgeable, they were told not to inquire further and not even to approach her.

But ignorance was ignorance, and insolence was insolence.

Yet, when faced with such absurdity, a certain curiosity arose. Fine, let's hear what nonsense they have to spout.

Thus, Ximen Surin found herself visiting the lower-grade lodgings of the Unaffiliated Guest Hall, a place she thought she'd never have cause to enter in her life.

"You summoned me?" she asked.

"Yes. Ma'am, you are an elder of the Divine Maiden Sect, correct?" one of the wanderers began. "There is something you absolutely must know—"

"You summoned me without even knowing who I am?" Ximen Surin interrupted. "How amusing. My name is Ximen Surin. Are you not going to introduce yourselves before an elder?"

It was an old woman's mischief.

She intended to let these ill-mannered young whelps turn pale and fluster about, then perhaps give them a lesson in etiquette.

But what was this?

Upon hearing Ximen Surin's name, color returned to everyone's faces as they sighed in relief or their eyes brightened as if they'd been saved.

"Matriarch! Please help us! The truth is...!"

And so, the wanderers prostrated themselves in unison and relayed what had happened. They showed no hesitation in revealing their own shame, giving a detailed account from acquiring the Jamlamdan, to the Gu Poison and the pursuit, culminating in Qing's heroic sacrifice.

"You... you... you bastards...!"

The fury of the Zenith Among Women erupted violently.

Ximen Surin's hair seemed to stand on end, and a crushing pressure, heavy as a thousand catties, bore down on the wanderers.

"How, how could you not report this immediately last night! Heavens, the Blood Cult! Those scoundrels! No! Where is she? Tell me, where!"

"I'll guide you right—" one started.

"What are you waiting for!" Ximen Surin roared. "Why aren't you running there immediately!"

Ximen Surin's vision went dark.

It was obvious. Her kind-hearted, foolish disciple, wanting to save these incorrigible loafers, must have rashly stepped forward without knowing the first thing about Gu Poison or what kind of monsters the Blood Cult were.

Probably spouting some carefree nonsense like, 'If things go wrong, I can just run away.'

No. Not the Blood Cult.

Her disciple had fallen into the hands of mere degenerates, wicked creatures with the hearts of beasts who couldn't even be considered human. What miserable state must she be in?

Just imagining it made her heart plummet, her mind grow distant, feeling as though her very soul would drain away.

And what is that dog-like Divine Thief bastard doing!

Was it a mistake to carelessly entrust her disciple to him, assuming he'd have knowledge and good character just because he claimed to be a Lecturer of the Hanlin Academy?

Her disciple, who had smiled so brightly saying she'd be right back, seemed to flicker before her eyes even now.

"Ah. You just left, I was surprised. Looks like we missed each other. Oh. The wanderers are here too."

Seemed to flicker...?

"Master! Right. Do you know about the Blood Cult guys? Your disciple found out where their headquarters are. They're really bastards who deserve to be beaten to death. So—"

"Ximen Qing! You insolent girl!"

CRACK!!!

Qing collapsed to the floor without even uttering a scream, clutching her head.

She learned firsthand that when the pain was too intense, you couldn't even dare to roll around feigning agony; you just froze in the exact position you fell.

"Young Lady Ximen!"
"Young Lady Ximeeenn!"

"Young Lady Ximen! Are you alright!"

The wanderers rushed towards the fallen Qing and knelt before her.

Some of the more emotional ones even shed tears, a mix of relief at seeing Qing, reassurance, and all their pent-up worry bursting out at once.

Though the sight of a group of men bowing en masse to the collapsed Qing was admittedly a bit strange.

"Sob, to think you went this far for us..." one choked out.

"Hey, we're fellow wanderers, right?" Qing said, managing a pained smile. "What did I tell you? Wanderers are all about...?"

"...Honor," they mumbled.

"Right. Then it's settled," Qing continued. "You're all okay, so just go wait on the third floor of the Mucheon Pavilion. You know Tang Nanah, right? Poison Flower? She'll give you an emergency prescription for now, so just think of it as sleeping soundly for three or four days."

After urging the wanderers—who couldn't lift their heads out of a mix of emotion, gratitude, guilt, and embarrassment—to leave, Qing was left facing Ximen Surin, whose expression was stern.

"This time, I absolutely cannot let this slide," Ximen Surin stated icily. "What on earth possessed you to act so recklessly? If you wanted to die, you should have just told this old woman. I'd split you cleanly in half."

"Ehehe, were you worried?" Qing asked tentatively.

"What kind of talk is that!" Ximen Surin snapped. "Hearing you swallowed Gu Poison and were captured by the Blood Cult, I was on the verge of fainting!"

"Uh. Sorry. Umm. It's something I didn't tell you, Master, but actually, my constitution is a bit, well, poison doesn't work on me at all."

"Poison doesn't work on you at all?" Ximen Surin stared. "Are you saying you have Ten Thousand Poisons Immunity? You were just born with it? That is the most bizarre thing I have ever heard."

"Hehe. Well, they say such things exist. Uh, hmm. Something like that. Apparently, it's not necessarily a good thing."

Ximen Surin stared hard at Qing.

For some reason, Qing couldn't meet her gaze, lowering her eyes slightly, clearly reluctant to speak and hiding something.

If she were at least skilled at deception, Surin might have been fooled. But seeing her so obviously uncomfortable and practically begging not to be questioned further, Surin felt frustrated but found it difficult to press the matter.

"Fine," Surin sighed. "Since poison doesn't affect you, you must have swallowed the Gu Poison readily. So it's not like there's some specific poison that can affect you?"

"Yes. It seems all poisons don't work on me."

"You must have been confident you could escape one way or another, so you obediently let yourself be captured," Surin concluded.

"You know me," Qing said with a slight grin. "If I'm tied up, I untie myself; if I'm blocked, I break through..."

Ximen Surin let out a deep sigh.

Since Qing hadn't acted thoughtlessly without a backup plan, there wasn't much reason to rebuke her further.

In fact, it was an act worthy of praise for its outstanding chivalry, but Surin couldn't bring herself to say so.

"Alright then," she said, her tone shifting back to business. "So, where are these Blood Cult bastards?"

"Well," Qing replied, "turns out there's a surprisingly huge underground space beneath Kaifeng."

In Qing's homeland, there was once a popular, self-deprecating phrase: Dreams may be grand, but reality is a gutter.

This perfectly described Gyeongdamgan, the Reviled Mad Demon.

Gyeongdamgan also had a grand dream.

It was the desire to carefully refine the precious material he had found, unlikely to come again in his remaining years, and burn that final flame reaching the stage of becoming a Discarded Collaborator.[^"Discarded Collaborator" refers to the state Gyeongdamgan wants to inflict upon his victim ("precious material"). It's the term the Blood Cult uses for someone who has been completely broken down through torture and manipulation. He views achieving this outcome in his victim as the ultimate expression of his skills, his "final flame."]

Thus, more inspiration than ever surged within him, making his heart pound with anticipation.

First, as payment for their presumptuous behavior this morning, let's cut off the heads of one or two wanderers and bring them back.

There are twenty of them, so killing about ten should be fine. Still, I need at least ten left to make the show interesting, so let's kill exactly half.

Afterward, if I incite anger among the remaining wanderers through misunderstanding, making them scream, 'It's all your fault!' at the girl who tried to protect them, they'll unleash cruel and gruesome violence and humiliation upon her.

That would be a good way to create a Discarded Collaborator.

Yes, using the captured Sword Flower first would be good too.

Put them in the same room. Offer them a luxurious meal and a bowl of rotten rice soaked in urine. Tell them only one can eat, and they must decide together.

Will the Divine Maiden Sect disciple yield? Or will she be unable to endure and reveal her ugly nature?

A fine bed and a chamber pot filled with filth would also be nice.

The Sword Flower is already half-broken. If I gently coax her, turning her resentment towards the Divine Maiden Sect disciple, what a fine spectacle that would create.

And how much more of a masterpiece would it be to make the Sword Flower torture the Divine Maiden Sect disciple herself...

Such were his grand dreams.

However, those damned wanderers were holed up in the Murim Alliance and wouldn't come out. It was as if they had conspired to stay hidden indefinitely.

No matter how much the Murim Alliance was steeped in peace and complacency, reaching out now carried too much risk.

Well, two of those wanderers are participating in the next tournament round anyway. Should I grab them then and drag them out?

Still, returning empty-handed felt wrong. So, he collected four innocent heads to throw at the Divine Maiden Sect disciple.

He planned to present them as a gift, saying, 'You harmed two, so I'll return the favor with four.'

Then, will you blame yourself? Will you rage?

I want to see tears, but I hope you don't break just yet.

He packaged the four heads, humming a tune as he returned to the underground base, only to hear that the Sword Flower had escaped.

It was the moment his meticulously crafted, wonderful plan shattered.

"What!" Gyeongdamgan roared. "You let the wench with the Gu Poison implanted escape!? Does that even make sense! You fucking idiots! Then, what about the Divine Maiden Sect disciple!?"

"Uh. Um. She's still in the prison," his subordinate reported nervously.

"Hoo. Right. Of course, that wench can't possibly escape. Not with lives held hostage," Gyeongdamgan muttered, calming slightly. "Kheheuk! Yes, how will she react when I tell her the Sword Flower escaped? Didn't they have a falling out? I'll make her misunderstand, thinking she was abandoned..."

Just then, his subordinate scratched the back of his head.

"About that... the one who let the Sword Flower escape was the Divine Maiden Sect disciple."

"What!" Gyeongdamgan yelled. "Didn't you say she was still in the prison?"

The subordinate hesitated for a moment before confessing.

"Well, she left... and then came back on her own. Said she was hungry and went out to eat dinner..."