Chronicles of the Lazy Sovereign Novel - Chapter 440

**Chapter 440. “The lazy One Gets It (5)”**

Wei Jeonghan’s reaction wasn’t much different:

“…Why did you bring him?”
“I didn’t bring him, he followed me!”
“Well…” Wei Jeonghan sighed. “Don’t go picking up strangers.”
“I didn’t pick him up!”

The young Jegal, who looked like a stone pulled from the road, shrugged with a chuckle, as if he didn’t care about that contempt.

“Do you find it funny?”
Jangil asked, and Jegal Munin shrugged:

“At first, Feng Chu was also considered useless. But he soon proved his worth. Difficulties always accompany great achievements.”

“…What a story you just told,” Jangil scoffed.

Jangil recognized that there were serious flaws in the Beggar Sect’s information. They had devoted great efforts to tracking down the Righteous Heavenly Alliance, and not a clue that the young Jegal would turn out to be such a bungler.

“You said you were brilliant at information… what is this, a disaster?”
“Are you from the Jegal family?” Jangil inquired. “You, are you affiliated with the Righteous Heavenly Alliance? And are you going to follow Wei Yanho?”
“What nonsense,” Jegal Munin replied. “Our Family infiltrated all factions, plotting conspiracies with each other. A man, upon reaching adulthood, chooses where he wants to be. If I destroyed the Jegal Family with my own hands, my father would be proud of my growth.”

‘Isn’t this a clan of lunatics?’ Jangil thought, but he didn’t dare say it out loud.

“And you’re coming on your own, then?”
“That’s right.”
“And where do you get the confidence that you will be accepted into the Righteous Martial Alliance?”
“You’d better know it well, beggar. This Jegal is not subordinate to the Righteous Martial Alliance. We are allies. I am not going to the Righteous Martial Alliance, but I will be the personal guest of the Radiant Sword Wei Yanho; it has nothing to do with the Alliance.”
“Who offered you to be their parasite?!”
“Not parasite, guest.”
“It’s the same thing!”
“Hm… I think my lord suffers from a lack of common sense. Well, whatever. If you don’t know, I’ll teach you.”

Wei Yanho grabbed the back of his neck:

“Damn it, to be able to speak you have to understand something first!”
“Exactly: that’s how we feel when we deal with you.”
“Shut up!”
“Man must learn empathy. I don’t know why this guy is so crazy, but at least he’s teaching you to put yourself in his place.”

Wei Yanho sighed deeply:

“Is it over?”

Wei Jeonghan, who was watching the scene, clicked his tongue:

“Yes. I think it’s over.”
“If there’s still something left, continue, but warn us beforehand. At this age, standing for so long is tiring. I’m going in for tea; decide in the meantime.”
“I better not see Dad wasting time on nonsense. If you’re done, proceed.”
“…Thanks. Only you think of your old man. It brings tears to my eyes.”

“Hehe, that’s what we’re here for.”

Jangil grabbed his head when he heard Jegal Munin whisper beside him: “What a filial piety of a devoted son. I made a good candidate.”

‘Why does this guy only attract useless people?’ Jangil reflected, and he realized that everyone around Wei Yanho will be the pillars of the martial world in the future: Musan, future leader of Shaolin; Peng Dogeuk, worthy succession of the Peng family… and even himself, a mere vehicle of the Beggar Sect. Their positions are born from extraordinary achievements, which means that…

> **”No sane person can stand out so much compared to their peers.”**

In the Jianghu, only the disturbed rise to the level of “talents.” First-rate geniuses were never normal people.

“Come,” Wei Jeonghan indicated to Wei Yanho and Jangil, and strode out, followed by both and by Jegal Munin.

“Has anything new arrived yet?” Jangil asked.
“No. A message has arrived from the Master of Divine Abilities,” Wei Jeonghan replied.
“So soon?”
“If it wasn’t urgent, they wouldn’t send it so quickly.”
“We’ll have to give him some nutritious food… let’s see if we can catch a rabbit!”
“Go catch them yourself,” Wei Jeonghan replied.
“Hehe, let them catch them, if they’ve earned it.”
“…Ugh.”

Wei Jeonghan gave up on dialogue and walked towards the medicine clinic.

“The looks…” Wei Yanho grumbled.
“Don’t forget: this is the Tang Family of Sichuan. For them, we are still enemies.”
“Wow, everyone lives so ruthlessly.”

Wei Yanho didn’t like that. Although he didn’t want to admit it, Jegal Yeom was right: now they had to face the Demon Cult, which always pushed the Central Plains into the abyss. Even in times of greater central strength, the diabolical sect was the enemy that had to be challenged with life. But to see them fighting among themselves while a tiger lurks under the harvest was pathetic.

> “This is not fraternal rivalry for the honor of the Righteous Martial Alliance; it is mere power struggle.”

Wei Yanho thought.

“Let’s go inside,” he said as they entered the clinic.

“Is anyone there?” Wei Jeonghan called.
“Come in,” Tang Cheongun replied from inside.

The room was full of tense looks. Wei Yanho, Wei Jeonghan, and Jangil followed Tang Cheongun to the infirmary.

Upon entering, they frowned:

“It’s gotten worse.”
“It smells like rotten flesh.”

Wei Yanho turned away in disgust. A recent corpse would be more bearable; this… looked like a living dead.

“It’s rotting,” Wei Jeonghan observed, removing the shroud from the patient and examining his body.

*”What a strong stomach.”* Wei Yanho thought. He knew that Wei Jeonghan had seen countless horrors in the war.

After taking the pulse and checking the fever, Wei Jeonghan looked at Jangil:

“What do you think?”

“It’s… strange,” Jangil replied. “It’s not the same as that time; then I doubted the symptoms. Now… there’s no doubt anymore.”

“Mmm, I see it the same way,” Wei Yanho added with his eyes open.

“What are you talking about?” Wei Yanho asked. “Don’t limit yourselves to your confidences; tell everyone.”

Wei Jeonghan gave a look to Tang Cheongun and continued:

“The Master of Divine Abilities mentioned a possibility in his missive. That’s why we examined him again, and it seems his theory is correct.”

“Yes? And what is it?” Wei Yanho asked.

Wei Jeonghan did not answer immediately, but pointed to the patient:

“Look.”

“I don’t want to see it,” Wei Yanho replied, turning and backing away. “I can’t stand this; I won’t sleep tomorrow.”

“You won’t have nightmares?” Wei Jeonghan inquired.

“I sleep, but I have night terrors,” Wei Yanho confessed.

Wei Jeonghan insisted:

“Look closely: he’s rotting… alive!”

“I’m not going to look at it!” Wei Yanho exclaimed.

But Wei Jeonghan kept a serious face:

“There are countless martial styles, but only one rots people alive…”

Tang Cheongun intervened with a voice of steel:

“Wait a moment. Be careful what you say. Do you know what it implies to pronounce that word? If you say it out loud, you will have to answer for it.”

“I know, Lord Tang Cheongun,” Wei Jeonghan replied with unwavering calm.

“But now is not the time to worry about that. If there is a possibility, we must face it. If we stick to reputation and decorum and let the problem grow, it will be a disaster.”

Tang Cheongun remained silent, frowning.

“After all, you called us to solve this case, right?” Wei Jeonghan finally asked.
“…Understood,” he yielded.

Wei Jeonghan turned to Wei Yanho:

“Do you know what it is?”

“I have no idea,” Wei Yanho replied with pride: ignorance is not a sin.

Wei Jeonghan sighed, not for his ignorance, but for the weight of what he was going to say:

“Of all the martial styles, only one rots a person alive.”

He pointed to the unconscious patient:

“That technique is called ‘Demon Magic’ (maong).”

Upon pronouncing “maong”, the atmosphere in the room froze.