Chapter 344
Chapter 344
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 344
>Chapter Title: The Lowest Fools Do Not Change (2)
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“Sichuan is clearly our Emei Sect’s territory, yet the Huangbo from Shandong have interfered. This violates convention. Therefore, shouldn’t we request mediation from the Martial Alliance?”
At the Sect Leader’s words, the elderly nun—who was both an elder and the Outer Hall Leader—cautiously asked back.
“…Then, after sending a letter to the Martial Alliance and securing their promise, do you plan to act?”
At the Outer Hall Leader’s question, the Sect Leader—for some reason—glared at her with cold eyes.
“How can we delay avenging our sister until then? Moreover, what if the Martial Alliance desires a peaceful resolution?”
Only then did the Outer Hall Leader realize what the Sect Leader truly wanted.
“You plan to send a letter to the Martial Alliance, but strike the Maitreya Cult before receiving a reply?”
“That’s right. If we’ve already dealt with the Maitreya Cult by then, the Alliance will simply mediate the conflict between us and the Huangbo clan. That way, we can cleanly conclude our sister’s vengeance.”
“I shall follow the Sect Leader’s will.”
As the Outer Hall Leader bowed her head in assent, the Sect Leader handed her a pre-written letter.
Taking the letter, the Outer Hall Leader asked once more.
“Then, what about the Qingcheng Sect?”
At her question, the Sect Leader gritted her teeth.
Just thinking of the Qingcheng Sect’s actions made her teeth grind even now.
She had heard they witnessed Nun Myeoljeol’s death right before their eyes, yet retreated without lifting a finger.
“We’ll send them a letter first as well. Qingmu—was it his sole decision, or the will of the entire Qingcheng? We must confirm that much at least.”
“…And if it turns out to be the will of the entire Qingcheng, do you plan to go to war with them too?”
“Of course. If this was the will of the entire Qingcheng, then they deliberately let our sister die. To weaken Emei’s power and seize Sichuan for themselves.”
Emitting a ferocious aura as she spoke, Nun Geumjeong soon quelled her rage, adding through ragged breaths.
“However, not right now. We strike the Maitreya Cult first.”
No matter her fury, she still retained a shred of reason.
She knew facing both factions at once would be no easy task.
She believed she could somehow handle a rootless sect like the Maitreya Cult, but Qingcheng was another matter entirely.
Seeing the Sect Leader—eyes bloodshot, trembling as she fought to contain her anger—the Outer Hall Leader bowed her head deeply.
“I will prepare a separate letter for Qingcheng. Sect Leader, you haven’t slept properly since hearing the sad news of our sister. Please rest, even if just a little.”
“Yes. I must rest. If only so that the moment our sister’s funeral ends, we can head straight for the Maitreya Cult.”
* * *
Around the time Emei Sect disciples set off toward Qingcheng and the Martial Alliance, letters in hand.
A guest arrived at the Maitreya Cult branch in Gwangwon County.
“…Didn’t you return to Qingcheng a few days ago?”
Il-mok asked Daoist Qingmu in a reluctant tone.
Daoist Qingmu scratched his head with an awkward smile.
“Ahem. If it’s not too rude, I’ve come seeking a bit of guidance.”
“Guidance? I believe I already provided some last time…?”
Il-mok now openly wore a dumbfounded expression.
Even with his face hidden by the mask, the glint in his eyes and the shape of his mouth made his feelings plain.
‘Is he aiming to freeload his way straight to the profound realms?’
Perhaps reminded of those who demand repayment after a rescue from drowning, the surrounding maidservants, Huangbo Yeon, and even Huangbo Se-hee all stared at Daoist Qingmu with bewildered looks.
“Ah, don’t misunderstand. This time, I’ve come seeking worldly guidance.”
At Daoist Qingmu’s clarification, their bewilderment took on a whole new flavor.
A Daoist seeking worldly guidance? What manner of absurdity was this?
Realizing he needed to elaborate, Daoist Qingmu awkwardly spoke up.
“Actually, it’s like this…”
* * *
A few days prior.
Freshly returned to Qingcheng Sect with his disciples, Daoist Qingmu conversed with the Sect Leader.
“…So you’re saying Qingcheng’s current path is wrong?”
“Yes, Senior Brother Sect Leader.”
Daoist Qingmu replied without a hint of hesitation, his eyes utterly clear and pure—like those of a child.
For some reason, meeting that gaze felt burdensome. The Qingcheng Sect Leader cleared his throat.
“Then what should we do, Junior Brother? The war with the Blood Cult has left our Qingcheng weakened. If we abandon a frail sect like this, how can we face the ancestors who toiled for it?”
“I agree we must rebuild Qingcheng’s strength, Senior Brother Sect Leader. I’m merely saying the method is wrong.”
Qingmu neither berated nor lectured the Sect Leader.
“Moreover, the ancestors would wish for this. Consider it: what intent lay behind our Founding Patriarch establishing Qingcheng? He desired disciples to cultivate the Dao here—and left his martial arts to protect such disciples and the pitiful common folk.”
He simply stated his thoughts with calm composure.
“Yet instead of cultivating the Dao through the arts bequeathed by our forebears and safeguarding innocent lives, are we blindly expanding territory and shoving aside blameless sects? Is this truly what they desired?”
“Sigh. Junior Brother, I know your words ring true in principle. But to protect more common folk, we need more disciples. And raising disciples requires funds.”
To the Sect Leader’s argument—build strength first, then do right—Daoist Qingmu shook his head.
“Senior Brother Sect Leader, there is a saying: ‘pulling seedlings to help them grow.’ Haste only courts ruin. A Confucian scholar coined it, but it’s a truth life invariably teaches. Are not the Demonic Cult’s demonic arts much the same?”
Daoist Qingmu cited demonic arts: swift progress at the risk of madness.
“…Junior Brother, you know that invites misunderstanding, yes? It sounds as if Qingcheng’s path mirrors the Demonic Cult’s.”
“How could we compare to that Demonic Cult? I merely mean it’s dangerous to continue as we are.”
The Sect Leader sighed lightly at Daoist Qingmu’s steady response.
“Sigh. So you’d have us aid common folk and subsist on their voluntary alms alone? Fine for us elders, but what of the disciples? What of future generations?”
The Sect Leader knew full well that Junior Brother Qingmu’s words held to principle.
Yet like most principles, ideals prove difficult to implement in reality.
From his position, he could not chase dreams while spurning the world as it was.
Daoist Qingmu easily grasped the Sect Leader’s sentiments.
Thus, he smiled brightly.
‘Hahaha. How foolish I’ve been. What is there to fear in debating a better Qingcheng? Why did I merely obey blindly?’
Those chasing ideals and those heeding reality, discussing to find accord.
That alone was the true path to serve Qingcheng.
Tempers might fray in the process, but Qingmu paid it no mind.
One way or another, they had all grown up together in Qingcheng for decades—he firmly believed they would reunite in the end.
But this was merely Daoist Qingmu’s own reflection.
“Junior Brother, you lob such a thorny dilemma at me—then laugh? What’s so amusing?”
The Sect Leader grumbled, face pinched as if nursing a headache.
“Discussing Qingcheng’s future thus with you, Senior Brother Sect Leader—it brings me joy. Hahaha.”
At Daoist Qingmu’s candid reply, the Sect Leader sensed something peculiar.
Precisely, he pinpointed the oddity he had felt since Qingmu’s return.
“Junior Brother, you seem somewhat changed. Have you attained some enlightenment?”
“Yes, Senior Brother. I managed to scale one wall.”
The Sect Leader chuckled softly at Daoist Qingmu’s even reply.
“Hahaha. Qingcheng’s blessing. Or no—having turned into such a stickler for principles, are you its curse?”
“Hahaha. You overdo the jest, Senior Brother Sect Leader.”
As Daoist Qingmu laughed lightly, the Sect Leader shook his head with a grimace.
“Half in earnest. I know you’re right, Junior Brother. But there are surely disciples and juniors who weigh reality too. If you’d have them follow without murmur, prepare at least a minimal solution.”
Qingmu sought no blind obedience from others. He had discovered joy in the debate itself.
Yet he was no fool; he grasped the subtext in the Sect Leader’s words.
‘A minimal solution…’
Curiously, as he pondered solutions, the Maitreya Cult sprang to mind.
‘Come to think of it, they bestow all manner of aid on the common folk. However do they fund it?’
* * *
“And so, I’ve returned here.”
Having heard the full account of the exchange between the Qingcheng Sect Leader and Daoist Qingmu.
“…….”
Il-mok eyed him dubiously.
‘Mad old coot? Trashing the Demonic Cult—then seeking its counsel?’
He had invoked demonic arts as the epitome of ‘pulling seedlings’ before his own Sect Leader, only to consult that very Demonic Cult. A glaring contradiction.
The silver lining: Il-mok was no frothing zealot to erupt at Demonic Cult slander uttered to his face.
Even he admitted the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult’s demonic arts fit ‘pulling seedlings’ to a tee—a deranged pursuit.
What’s more, his maidservants had long played the Maitreya Cult role alongside him, barely reining in their impulses.
“Sigh. So you’re wondering where our funds come from, to lavish such mercy on the common folk?”
“Hahaha. Precisely.”
Daoist Qingmu beamed—a smile ill-suited to an elder’s face.
‘Mad old coot confirmed.’
Mad in a way distinct from the likes of Dokgo Ryong.
In shaking his head, Il-mok’s gaze met Huangbo Yeon and Huangbo Se-hee’s. Curiosity gleamed in their eyes too.
‘Hmm.’
After brief deliberation on his answer, Il-mok sighed lightly.
“Our Maitreya Cult earns coin through trade with the Western Regions.”
They hid nothing of the trade itself—exposure was merely a matter of time.
The Demonic Cult ties were the sole secret.
“Trade with the Western Regions? Isn’t that nigh impossible, thanks to the Demonic Cult?”
“The desert route is out, but the grassland path works. Nomadic tribes cause friction along the way, though. And even reaching the Western Regions, clashes with Huihui cultists are relentless.”
“Huh…”
Daoist Qingmu murmured in faint admiration, then caught an oddity in the masked man’s words.
“But from how you speak, it sounds as if you’ve personally traversed the northern grasslands and Western Regions?”
“Who else would I send to such hellholes?”
At Il-mok’s obvious retort, Daoist Qingmu and the Huangbo daughters gaped in brief shock.
“Ah!”
Huangbo Se-hee suddenly exclaimed, dropping an out-of-left-field observation.
“So that’s why the Maitreya Cult pulled out of the Blood Cult war at some point! The Incarnation had to personally shuttle to the Western Regions—earning coin to feed the common folk!”
Il-mok scrambled to school his features at her deduction.
‘We bailed so you idiots could slaughter each other?’
No chance he’d spell that out.