I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 292: Transcendent Qing (29)

As they rode the wagon toward the Sangbang district, the scene of chaos gradually faded away, and, surprisingly, a perfectly intact cityscape unfolded before them.

“It’s... fine?”

“Nakha River floods every year, doesn’t it?”

Nakha River, for a tributary of the Yellow River, was unusually straight and narrow, and thus suffered annual floods. For that reason, most Sangbang merchants and Wuguan agents made their homes on the high ground of the adjoining Gam Mountain ridge. By now, even riverside shipping warehouses would have been emptied and relocated to higher ground.

“And they still went ahead with flood control work?”

“That’s not such an easy task, you see.”

The river is straight, the channel narrow, and the water volume high—so the current is ferocious, wild, and brutal. With deep water and heavy flow, it’s always been a waterway damn near impossible for humans to tame.

“The authorities finally opened the coffers to perform a public good, and it ends up like this. Mm. Though really, one should question whether it was a public good at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A project like that swallows mountains of gold and silver. There were bribes flying from the moment the contracts were announced. With rumors that Henan’s provincial commissioner is about to be replaced, some say he wanted to line his pockets one last time before retirement. Of course, it’s all hearsay. Some claim the commissioner is a clean-handed official, but—well, who really knows what lies in a man’s heart?”

The Imperial Court might be stingy, but when it does loosen the purse strings, the size of its hand is Buddha-like. Wagonloads of gold and silver would stream down like a parade.

Even after the bureaucrats skimmed their take, there was still an obscene amount left. They handed off the rest with the blueprint and said, "Build it just like this." So the construction firms did what they wanted, kept the surplus for themselves, and called it done.

“That’s it? No oversight? No one checking if it’s even built properly?”

“Technically, there’s supposed to be a flood control supervisor overseeing and managing the work.”

But that was a mythical position that existed in name only. Sure, the government would send someone to supervise—but the man wouldn't understand the design or know anything about construction. No matter how attentively he watched, it would be useless.

If he even bothered watching, that’d already make him a saint among bureaucrats. Supervisors like that supposedly had divine insight—able to assess a project’s progress while being wined and dined with courtesans at a fancy restaurant.

Of course, that was all according to Geol Taran. Could be true, could be bullshit. Qing figured, “It can’t possibly be that much bullshit,” and let it slide.

By the time the wagon arrived at the Taecheong Sangbang Naknyeong branch, a mob of ragged civilians was already packed in front.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“That’s enough. Next!”

Men with large “Cheong” characters slapped across their tunics were handing out a measure of grain to each person in line.

The strange thing was—their karmic energy was anything but ordinary.

Yet, before Qing’s eyes, their karmic debt began decreasing in real time.

What the hell? Did Grandpa go around gathering degenerates to build a company?

Hm. Maybe they’re defectors from the Cheonma Cult?

Given Grandpa Choi’s background, it wouldn’t be shocking if he gave shelter to people from that side.

Apparently, they’d already begun relief efforts. Watching their karmic burden lighten left a sour taste in Qing’s mouth.

Moments like this always brought complicated thoughts. She forcefully looked away—thinking too much was bad for mental ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) health.

Ah. Seeing Seol Iri’s face heals the soul.

Sure, Qing knew worshipping beauty wasn’t ideal—but who could help feeling pleasant when looking at something pretty?

As Qing stepped down from the wagon, a sudden gasp came from somewhere nearby.

Turning her head, she spotted a man collapsing to his knees, staring at her like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

What now? Is he sick?

Worse, it seemed contagious. “Miss Ye!” cried another man who’d been lifting a sack. He dropped his load, bent deeply, and bared the crown of his head.

“Miss! Is it truly you!”

“Good heavens, such beauty!”

“A glory—no, a transcendent glory! A ten-thousand-lifetimes blessing!”

“Cheongsae! Cheongsae! Our Cheongsae!”

And then a crowd swarmed her.

Whoa. What?

Their welcome was violent, intense, and ablaze with zeal. Qing just blinked.

There’s a limit to how enthusiastic a welcome can be—and this was people she’d never met, tearing up as they bowed their heads in reverence.

“What the hell is this?”

“Ah, that—hey! You idiots, get back to work! Just because you’re overwhelmed by her presence doesn’t mean you get to slack off!”

“Ack! Yes, sir. Sorry!”

At Geol Taran’s scolding, the Sangbang workers scurried back to their stations.

“Heh heh. Truth is, every one of these employees owes a huge debt of gratitude to Grandpa Choi. So upon seeing you, their emotions just... burst out.”

Qing narrowed her eyes.

Since when did Grandpa go around doing favors in the Jianghu? And where did he round up this whole lot?

Plus, their karmic residue was no joke.

Definitely cult defectors, wasn’t it?

He’d said it was Seol Trading Company... did he run some kind of organized exodus and smuggle them out?

Qing had no awareness that she was the Cheonma.

To her, the Cheonma was just an enemy she’d already slaughtered—just the residual husk of a shattered ego lodged in some dark corner of her core.

The Demonic Qi stuck to her dantian merely sat there, chuckling as it took beating after beating.

She had no idea that Choi Ri-ong had realigned with the cult, anchored it in the Central Plains as a new sect, and was now burning with ambition to make Qing an immortal, sacred divinity—their eternal, supreme idol.

And so they unpacked.

But Seol Iri looked... off. Her slow, awkward movements were far from normal.

“Miss Seol? Are you feeling really unwell? You should have your pulse checked.”

“No.”

“I could just let that ‘no’ slide, but if I ask you something multiple times, at least answer each part. Are you saying you’re fine? Or that you don’t need the check?”

“I understand. Yes. Yes.”

So that’s ‘Yes’ to answering in order. She’s saying she’s fine and doesn’t need diagnosis—so, yes and yes.

In her own way, Seol Iri followed instructions when given.

Qing nodded with a smile. How nice, that she at least listens.

Leaving Iri to rest in one of the rooms, Qing stepped out—and found Geol Taran practically losing it over the gold in the wagon.

“Good heavens, to think you recovered such a fortune—your talents are immeasurable, my lady! This humble servant is struck dumb, overwhelmed by the sheer grace you embody! Your generosity, your boundless mercy—this must be Heaven’s very blessing made flesh!”

“Oh come on, don’t make such a big deal out of—”

“No, truly! People gleam at other’s gold while guarding their own pennies. But you—offering up a lifetime’s fortune without batting an eye! I, Geol Taran, am moved! Deeply, infinitely moved!”

“Well, I mean. It’s not like I busted my ass earning that money. Don’t lay it on too thick.”

“Snrk. Thanks to your benevolence, we’ll face no setbacks in the relief effort. We were already running dry on funds. We requested more from the main branch, but you know how long that takes—eternities in and out.”

“You were broke?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started. Do you know how much they’re gouging food supplies? The price of grain is already nearly ten times what it used to be. We’ve been rationing out what we had, a single portion per person per day, but without additional funding, we can’t go out and buy more so easily. We were about to be stuck just twiddling our thumbs, worried sick.”

And then, once again, the praises began—

“But then! In a time like this, for the young lady herself to descend in person, bearing her sacred body, and bestow gold upon us with an ocean-deep grace—truly—”

“Alright, alright, stop. Even I’m getting secondhand embarrassment hearing all that. That’s enough, yeah? So tell me—how much more money would full recovery work cost?”

“Ehh... If I’m being honest, a full recovery project’s out of reach. But we could feed the city for twenty days, at least.”

“Eh? We’re talking over forty gwan of gold in solid bars alone, and that only lasts twenty days? Was I funding a relief effort, or were you planning to throw a banquet that leaves everyone stuffed?”

“The thing is, even with gold in hand, grain is still hard to secure. Prices are tenfold now, but the moment you flash gold, they’ll ask for thirty or even fifty times the usual price—and even then, they might not sell.”

“Isn’t that just straight-up theft? Why?”

“That’s just how merchants are, my lady.”

Floods were tragic—but for merchants, it was a once-in-a-decade chance to multiply their wealth.

Anyone whose house was washed away was ruined. And even those who managed to keep their homes were left with mud and sludge and no food to eat.

So they jacked up grain prices. And if you didn’t have cash, they issued debt bonds at absurd rates. People had to eat, so they took the grain, and in no time their savings vanished, leaving only debt.

All that debt turned into merchant wealth.

“The hell are those bastards...”

Qing scowled deeply.

“So basically, if we want to run proper relief, we need to lock down a grain supply first.”

“It’s tenfold now, but if we show gold, they’ll want thirty times more. Grain that could become land, oxen, or servants with just a few scoops—they’re not going to hand it over just because we show them precious metals.”

At that, Qing shook her head.

“You’re not conveying sincerity right. If we go to them with a truly earnest heart and ask sincerely to sell, you really think they’ll just turn us away?”

“Oh, my lady. If only the world worked that way...”

“Come on. Let’s go. No point in talking—we’re buying grain.”

Geol Taran could only stomp in place with worry.

The young lady was still too pure. What if she came to know the cruelty of the world and ended up disillusioned?

But that would be underestimating Qing’s sincerity far too much.

Because when it came to screwing over people she didn’t like, Qing was very, very sincere.

So the place Qing headed to was none other than the front gates of the Taecheong Sangbang.

In the time it took, word of the relief effort had spread, and a sea of civilians had gathered.

Qing climbed up onto the table where grain was being distributed and took her place.

“Everyone, unfortunately, we don’t have much grain left.”

The faces of the people in line darkened.

And the farther back in line they stood, the darker their expressions grew—those near the end looked close to despair.

No grain? But there’s nothing to eat today... The other Sangbang is demanding a full nyang for a single handful...

As murmurs spread through the crowd, Qing raised a fist to the sky.

Dehhng...

The resonant ring of Buddha’s Thunderous Palm quelled the clamor in a single blow.

Qing flashed the smile of the most beautiful face under heaven, and continued speaking.

“However, this humble girl will use her personal wealth to buy grain and distribute it among you.”

The crowd’s expressions lifted again.

Truly, she had a gift for stringing people along—squeezing and releasing their hearts with ease.

The people stared up at Qing’s beautiful face as if bewitched, and she spoke again.

“But they say even with gold, grain is hard to come by. So—if we all go together, if we all plead with our hearts united, won’t the warehouse owners open their doors, if only out of gratitude? Shall we go and ask them—all together now?”