Chapter 52: The Beautiful, Tragic, and Powerful Villain Cannon Fodder—My Father Is the King, Part 5

For reasons unknown, a rumor began to circulate in Sky Mist City: a renowned physician known for his playful ways had chosen to retire here in seclusion.

This physician possessed a rather eccentric temperament. He would open his doors for business only four hours each day—sometimes not even that long—and after a few days of seeing patients, he would inevitably close his clinic for two days of rest.

Such behavior, refusing to earn money and acting so oddly, might seem strange at first, but when one considers his illustrious status, it becomes entirely understandable. After all, which master of the martial world does not have a few peculiar quirks?

Qin Ye had never imagined such a turn of events.

He had been working on a new poison—a strange concoction formed by blending various common toxins. When his research succeeded, Qin Ye immediately sent it to Old Tie of the Sacred Gate.

The first unlucky—or rather, fortunate—recipient was Ghostbane, the Sacred Gate’s Left Guardian.

After experiencing the effects of the poison, Ghostbane quickly surrendered. Death was not the worst outcome; what truly terrified him was a fate worse than death.

Failing to take the antidote in time would not kill you, but would leave you wishing for death. Subduing people this way was too slow, and hearts were prone to change; someone loyal a month ago might not remain so.

Qin Ye’s task was to ensure the lifelong safety and happiness of Qin Bing.

But how could he protect without power or followers?

Old Tie’s Sacred Gate was the perfect solution: its intelligence network was superb, and it was the leading force of the demonic path, thanks to the emergence of a prodigiously talented Sacred Lord.

With the Sacred Lord’s rise, other demonic sects quickly submitted to the Sacred Gate. Now, as the Sacred Lord secluded himself, the demonic factions threatened to scatter once more—but even a dying camel is larger than a horse, and the Sacred Gate’s power remained formidable.

Under its banner were countless properties and ventures across various industries. These were merely the Gate’s outer forces; its true core was a gathering of martial experts.

Most notable among them were Ghostbane and Sorrowbane, the Left and Right Guardians, one in white and one in black. Ghostbane specialized in poison, Sorrowbane in sonic attacks.

Beyond them, there were the Four Hall Masters and their elite disciples.

Having subdued the guardians, the Hall Masters were soon compelled to follow.

Unbeknownst to Qiu Lingsu, the Sacred Gate had come entirely under Qin Ye’s control.

Qin Ye ordered the Four Hall Masters and their disciples to settle somewhere and farm in peace, awaiting his command.

Though dissatisfied, the Hall Masters could not resist.

Before their hopes of betraying Qin Ye once the poison was neutralized could take root, Qin Ye donned a black robe and a mask that revealed only his chin, mouth, and eyes, and proceeded to thrash them all.

The Hall Masters were speechless.

With martial arts this formidable, why hadn’t he simply subdued them directly? Why bother with poison?

Making poison was effortless for him, as was brewing antidotes—how utterly outrageous.

While expanding his influence and recruiting followers, Qin Ye also supervised the two youngsters in their martial training, as well as their studies and medical lessons.

How could any martial world denizen not know medicine?

Fortunately, both children, having endured the Sacred Gate’s harsh discipline, never complained. They followed every instruction Qin Ye gave.

The Long Spring Clinic, where Qin Ye presided as the young physician, was surprisingly popular—not only for his reliability, which rivaled that of any venerable white-haired doctor, but also for his unexpected good looks.

Even the two half-apprentice assistants were each more attractive than the last.

Young girls and married women alike would stroll past the clinic just to catch a glimpse. If they couldn’t see the doctor, the assistants would suffice; all were a delight to the eye.

Qin Bing was especially favored.

When his father came to fetch him, Qin Bing reverted to his Swordsmith Manor ways—a soft, adorable child with no titles or airs.

He had no worries and no fears; as long as his father was present, nothing could trouble him.

Even Xiao Jiang was infected by his carefree attitude, gradually revealing the youthful temperament appropriate for his age.

Yet, while Qin Bing appeared naturally naive, he was actually somewhat sly.

Xiao Jiang smiled at everyone, but in reality was the hardest to approach; so far, he had only accepted Qin Bing and Qin Ye.

His acceptance of Qin Ye was partly thanks to Qin Bing, but also due to Qin Ye’s nurturing, fatherly nature.

What other father would check on his children several times a night just to see if they’d kicked off their blankets?

Who else would buy fabric, learn tailoring, and make clothes by hand for their offspring?

And who would constantly experiment with delicious and nutritious foods to ensure his child grew plump and healthy?

Plumpness was the ideal—beauty itself. Children ought to be round and chubby.

Since he already possessed these paternal qualities, Qin Ye decided to embrace the habits of his predecessor. That way, when he encountered even younger children in the future, he'd have the experience.

Qin Ye, strong-willed and never one to admit defeat, resolved that if being a nurturing father was his lot, he’d raise his children to be healthy and robust.

With his deep martial cultivation, his energy increased, so Qin Ye would often go out to recruit followers and expand his territory, while also seeking masters to learn new skills.

He learned cooking by kidnapping a chef from Gourmet City.

He learned tailoring by seizing a tailor and embroideress from the Skilled Hands Pavilion.

His medical knowledge was entirely self-taught; this world had no faction dedicated to producing legendary physicians, though every family trained their own doctors—mediocre at best.

Martial world dwellers relied on their superior constitution; so long as they rested and had medicines, most injuries could be healed.

There were exceptional doctors, but they were untouchable—honored guests rather than threats.

Everyone falls ill sometimes; it pays to treat physicians well.

Martial experts were ranked from unranked to third, second, and first class; above first class were Grandmasters, and above them, Supreme Grandmasters.

A Supreme Grandmaster was a pillar of any faction.

Qin Ye’s predecessor had been second class, approaching first.

Weapon Lords were a separate category; they were akin to cheats and not included in the normal ranking system.

Qiu Lingsu had previously been first class, but now should have broken through to Grandmaster.

Supreme Grandmasters across the martial world numbered fewer than one hand.

Only at that level could one confidently claim to surpass a Weapon Lord; Grandmasters were their equals, but often lost in single combat.

Qin Ye wasn’t sure of his current rank; he could easily defeat all Four Hall Masters combined.

He hadn’t tested himself against the Grandmaster-level Guardians; Ghostbane, skilled in poisons, was felled by Qin Ye’s own toxins, while Sorrowbane had been subdued by Ghostbane.

He felt the Tai’a Sword was less useful to him than expected.

While tailoring clothes for the two children, Qin Ye would occasionally cast a gloomy look at the Tai’a Sword, which served as a fire-poker wrapped tightly in rags.

Tai’a, sensing danger, secretly lamented its fate.

Yet, at a critical moment, Tai’a revealed its worth, resonating with both Qin Bing and Xiao Jiang.

Xiao Jiang, now formally named Qin Jiang, had learned from Qin Bing to call Qin Ye “Dad” with practiced ease.

He might have wanted to resist, but with Qin Bing always calling out to their father, he soon grew accustomed.

After making a few garments himself, Qin Ye quickly lost interest. Though he’d mastered the skill, he paid the Skilled Hands Pavilion to send someone to take measurements and arrange a year’s worth of clothes for the children.

Shoes and socks received the same treatment, with accessories included.

Raising children was truly troublesome.

Meanwhile, the two children who resonated with Tai’a began to defer to one another.

Qin Bing declared, “My father is the greatest in the world. With his personal guidance, I’ll surely become the best. The divine sword should go to Xiao Jiang—he’s too weak.”

Xiao Jiang replied with a smile, “I think it should go to Xiao Bing. He’s strong, but too naive—he wouldn’t even know he’d been sold. Better give him the best. I might be weak, but I never stray far from Dad, so I’m always safe.”

Tai’a protested silently.

Hey, don’t I deserve some respect? I’m ranked first among divine weapons! I’m not cabbage!

Qin Ye stroked his chin in contemplation.

Neither child wanted to use the sword.

Qin Ye disagreed. “The sword is the king of all weapons. Only sword wielders are truly powerful!”

“I prefer hard martial arts,” said Qin Bing.

“I find the blade fits my hand better—slash if you can, flee if you can’t,” said Xiao Jiang.

As a sword—just a sword—Tai’a’s rejection was hardly surprising.

Tai’a began to tremble, emitting a faint silver-blue glow.

Qin Ye slapped it, and Tai’a instantly returned to normal, ceasing its trembling and glow, obediently serving as a fire-poker wrapped in rags.

Qin Bing’s eyes sparkled. “Dad, I want to learn this.”

Qin Ye replied, “This is the Long Spring Technique. Practice diligently, and you’ll reach my level someday.”

“Mm!” Qin Bing nodded vigorously.

Xiao Jiang rolled his eyes. So much for not being foolish—Dad was clearly bluffing, yet Qin Bing believed him without a hint of doubt.

With neither child wanting Tai’a, Qin Ye resigned himself to keeping it.

If it were a blade, Qin Ye might have split it open to examine its inner structure.

It was odd—the martial arts of this world, even at their peak, were merely the entry point of a cultivation world, the beginning of merging martial arts with the Dao.

Internal energy remained within mortal bounds.

Yet divine weapons existed, incongruous with the world itself.

Qin Ye remained somewhat intrigued by such artifacts.

But Tai’a was a sword.

Qin Ye favored swords, so he refrained from destroying it.

Though he appeared to live in seclusion, in truth he was vigorously expanding his power, yet his focus remained on raising his children.

Under his careful tutelage, Qin Bing and Qin Jiang’s abilities progressed rapidly; at their young age, they were already comparable to first-class experts in the martial world.

They weren’t quite like the Daoist prodigy of Crane Tower or the Buddhist prodigy of White Horse Temple, who, at the cusp of adulthood, had nearly reached Grandmaster level.

But they were renowned as martial prodigies.

Six years slipped by in a flash, and Qin Ye watched the two children change day by day, especially as they entered adolescence.

Though he saw them daily, he realized, almost without noticing, that they had grown into tall, graceful young men, radiant in their maturity.