Chapter 134: Tang Clan's Paper Flower

At the Poison Grandfather's praise, Qing proudly puffed out her chest to answer confidently—

“Ouch, hsss.”

—but stopped as pain shot through her, answering instead while slightly hunched over.

“There’s no need to be surprised. I am always brilliant, after all.”

To not call a brilliant person brilliant would be a lie. Thus, Qing—a prodigy, a genius, a talent of the realm for whom even humility could be considered rude—couldn't possibly lie to an elder and simply stated the plain facts.

“Yes, your confidence is truly good to see. A martial artist should possess such ambition!”

One might say the Grand Clan Lord, who accepted this so readily, also had a problem.

“However, about that fellow… that arm.”

“Ah. So that’s why you came. How much did you find out before you—eep, find out?”

As she spoke, the words somehow twisted into the kind of utterance only subhuman vermin would make, so Qing quickly corrected herself.

The Poison Grandfather, unaware of the circumstances, blinked a couple of times before replying as if it were nothing significant.

“I suspect he might have been a Blood Rigor Demonic Human.”

“A Blood Rigor Demonic Human!”

Qing exclaimed in surprise.

A Blood Rigor Demonic Human! What on earth is that?!

She just shouted it out, sensing the atmosphere called for it. Not that doing so suddenly implanted the unknown information into her head.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Qing asked.

“What’s a Blood Rigor Demonic Human?”

“Hmm, it’s a type of terribly evil, how should I put it… hmm, yes, something created through the Blood Cult’s Dark Blood Asura Grand Law. Mmmhmm. Its characteristic is a tough body, like being Impervious to Swords and Sabers.”

“The Blood Cult?”

“Yes. For an Embroidered Uniform Guard to have received the Blood Cult’s Grand Law… I believe this is no ordinary matter.”

In the martial arts world, anything related to the Blood Cult could simply be labeled evil, without exception. Because it was the truth. It wasn't prejudice; the techniques employed by the Blood Cult fundamentally required blood. The Dark Blood Asura Grand Law was no different, absorbing specially treated human blood into a target's body to create a Blood Rigor Demonic Human possessing a body Impervious to Swords and Sabers.

The Grand Clan Lord knew nothing about the specific special treatment involved. Because he wasn't a member of the Blood Cult. In any case, since it was a Grand Law that absorbed another’s blood, it was exceedingly evil, more than deserving of being treated as a public enemy of Murim.

“Hm? Isn’t that just a Living Jiangshi?”

“It’s different from a Jiangshi. Even a Living Jiangshi, though conscious, has its Dantian’s life force extinguished, merely moving by consuming its remaining true essence.”

“Oh. So the difference is whether they can use their own internal energy or not?”

“Correct. Quite sharp of you.”

“Hehe. Don’t mention it.”

Qing knew herself well. Though always brilliant, she understood she was somewhat removed from being particularly sharp. Thus, this time, it was humility.

“Then, isn’t the Blood Rigor Demonic Human unconditionally the superior version—does that phrase even exist in the Central Plains? Anyway, if you’re going to make one anyway, isn’t it better to make a Blood Rigor Demonic Human?”

“The Blood Rigor Demonic Human is merely sturdy. Its drawbacks are too significant, so surprisingly, even the Blood Cult bastards don’t use them often.”

“What are the drawbacks?”

“In exchange for gaining a body Impervious to Swords and Sabers, they become sluggish. Their movements slow by at least double, their joints and tendons stiffen, eliminating flexibility entirely, making their limb movements rigid and linear. You faced one, didn't you know?”

“Ah.”

Qing’s expression turned sour.

What? That state was more than twice as slow? That one strike that sliced my chest—even though I sensed the killing intent, I was too late to dodge, didn't my breast get split in half like a sliced mackerel?

She could accept the part about lacking flexibility and having rigid, linear movements. That much Qing could agree with, especially after Cho Gwak lost his reason.

Qing protested, feeling wronged.

“Considering that, didn’t he fight pretty well?”

“Fought well? His swordsmanship itself was inferior to yours; wasn’t he constantly rolling around like a donkey? I thought Cho Gwak was just some bumpkin fresh out of the martial world who only knew training, unable to stand up to you. Like those masters who achieve high realms secluded in deep mountains but flounder in actual combat.”

“Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so cocky…”

Qing seriously considered it.

Still, if my attacks could land, wouldn’t it be manageable even if the enemy was twice as fast? Block once with the arm, then stab. Of course, if I failed, I really would have been split in half.

Hm? No, wait. I had Master’s shield, I was invincible.

Come to think of it, if Cho Gwak hadn't been a Blood Rigor Demonic Human, I wouldn't have ended up with three breasts; I would have beaten him to death long ago.

Thinking about it now, it’s infuriating. If I’d known he was the type to slather himself in someone else’s blood just to get tough, I should have torn off his remaining limbs too. What an absolute scumbag.

“An Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander, no less, being a Blood Rigor Demonic Human… this is no ordinary matter. We must immediately inform the Alliance and investigate. Your merit in tearing off an arm to find evidence is hard to put into words. Well done indeed. Honestly, watching it, I wondered if it wasn't some bizarre spectacle, but the old man was wrong, and you were right.”

It was truly the most bizarre thing in the world – praise for tearing off an arm well. Yet, given the gravity of the situation, anyone would nod in agreement.

“Grandfather, our Qing-ah needs to rest.”

Just then, Tang Nanah interrupted. Autumn was drawing to a close, and the nights were long. As is common in primitive, ancient, uncivilized societies, longer nights meant more sleep was necessary.

“Ah. Right. I’m being thoughtless. Holding onto a sick child. Yes. Rest well. In this situation, the authorities won't be concerned with treason anymore either, so they should withdraw soon. It’s all over, so you can recuperate comfortably.”

“Oh.”

That was welcome news. If it was all over, she could stop by the Emei Sect and then head back.

No, wait. I should probably let my chest heal completely before I go. They said there won't even be a scar. I should send a letter saying I'll stay a bit longer. I don’t want to cause unnecessary worry. How upset would Master be if I showed up wrapped in bandages? Better to become the disciple who ran away from home and deal with the nuclear retaliation later. If someone has to be in pain, it should be me.

Qing decided she would stay at the Tang Clan until she was fully healed.

Qing stared blankly up at the screen.

And thought.

Wow. I’m freaking awesome. It’s a perfect score.

Qing absentmindedly scratched her strangely itchy chest as she gazed up at the beautiful score.

It was then.

Someone suddenly wrapped their arms around her waist and whispered in a soft voice.

“Huhu, darling. Feeling tense because it’s a perfect game?”

“Huh? No, not at all. As if Ximen Qing, a true man, would ever feel that.”

“Is that so? Then shouldn’t you show me your gallant figure, darling?”

“Uh. Yeah…”

She looks familiar, somehow. But who is she to call me darling?

Qing tilted her head, but the question was fleeting. For some reason, it just felt natural, like it was meant to be.

Just then, at the end of the lane, the pins descended and settled into a neat formation.

Qing tilted her head again.

Huh. Did the headpin, the number 1 pin, always look like that?

It was a wide-based triangular pyramid, somewhat translucent, even emitting a faint glow.

If the base is that wide, won’t it refuse to fall?

Though Qing had this thought, it too quickly faded into natural oblivion, accepted as just the way things were.

More importantly, her chest was unbearably itchy.

Qing scratched her chest irritably, and after doing so, the outer part of her thigh just above the knee started tickling… ah, dammit.

Ultimately, Qing just scowled, gave up, and inserted her fingers into her 15-pound custom ball.

She lifted the ball high, gathered her feet at the start of the lane. With a light rebound, she pushed the heavy ball forward, letting it drop with gravity as she took one step, two steps, three steps.

Then, almost touching the floor, barely a paper's width above it, her thumb slipped out first, followed a beat later by her index and middle fingers, twisting out of the holes.

The ball, veering towards the right side of the lane, spun elegantly before slamming into the side of the frontmost headpin at a 42-degree angle, driving through.

Instantly, the triangular pyramid-shaped number 1 pin shattered into pieces, screaming.

“Kuaaargh! Kwak! Kwak! Kuaaaaaargh! Just kill me! Kill me! Why torment me even in my dreams, you crazy Slaughtering Star? Aaack!” It was a bizarre, yet desperate scream.

Even Qing felt pained listening to it; the agony embedded in the screech was that dreadful.

Then, the remaining pins collapsed with a series of crisp pang sounds, swept away cleanly.

Wow. A strike!

It was then.

A translucent window popped up before Qing’s eyes, displaying text.

Qing grimaced and swiped the Mission Window away.

And then she realized.

Ah. This is a dream.

“Fuuu.”

Qing let out a long sigh and thought.

That damn Mission Window, I wondered where it went. Now it’s even showing up in my dreams to mess with me.

Qing sat down on a chair and said, “Yeonyeong-ah, get out. If you don’t want to die.”

“Thanks.”

Un Yeonyeong, whom she hadn't seen in a while, replied in a strangely husky voice and walked away into the distance, heels clicking.

Seriously, who wears heels to a bowling alley? What an ignorant wench.

Of course, Un Yeonyeong was blameless. Nonsensical dreams are nonsensical precisely because they lack coherence.

And right now, Qing was invincible. Because she was aware she was dreaming. It was called a Lucid Dream.

However, the Heavenly Demon Soul was not a dream character. Judging by the scream earlier, it seemed Qing had unknowingly been tormenting him daily in her dreams.

Looks like that Heavenly Demon punk was being tortured in my dreams every day.

But she didn’t particularly feel sorry for him. She might have pitied him if that psychic parasite hadn't ruined just one or two lives. From the Demonic Cult bastards of the past and present to all the victims devastated by the Righteous-Demonic Great War. He was an absolute scumbag who sacrificed all those lives just to resolve his own grudges. Even if Qing had been tormenting him daily in her subconscious without realizing it, well… it was entirely plausible, so she didn’t feel much else about it.

More importantly, that damn Mission Window, invading someone else's dream…

Aish, and it’s itchy. Is it where I got hurt? No? The injury is on the other side.

It was then.

The Mission Window she had just dismissed reappeared, displaying only a part of the earlier text in large letters.

“Aish, alright already, stop, huh? Attack?”

In that instant, her mind snapped alert, and with a dizzying, nauseating twist, the dream shattered violently.

“Huk.”

Qing gasped, exhaling her remaining breath as her eyes flew open.

Simultaneously, someone else gasped out their remaining breath.

“Huk.”

For some reason, her eyes met Tang Nanah’s the moment she woke up. Well, Nanah had said she'd look after the patient and slept in the same bed, so of course she was here, but hadn’t she slept at all?

Of course, that wasn't important. Because behind Tang Nanah’s small head, the uninvited Mission Window was still freaking out.

Qing’s expression naturally hardened.

Tang Nanah, her face somehow flushing crimson even in the darkness, stammered frantically.

“No, no! It’s a misunderstanding! I mean, uh, um, the, other, uh, palpation. Yes! Palpation! There was no other meaning, just palpation! Palpation! Isn't it suspicious?! Because it's palpation! I was worried there might be internal bruising even if the outside looked fine!”

“What are you talking about? More importantly, are we perhaps under attack by enemies—”

That very moment.

Guuuung…!

A dull but massive explosion roared, and an earthquake-like tremor vibrated up from the floor.

Kiiiiiik—the sound of straining wood screeched loudly, and dust from the rafters above drifted down erratically like the first snow.

“Huh?”

“What in the—”

And then, KWANG!!!

Something smashed through the wall, struck a pillar, and instantly shattered it. Fragments flew in all directions like a storm.