Chapter 197: Dragon-Phoenix Assembly

After dumping the completely passed-out Gongson Yoye into a room at the Mucheon Pavilion, Qing diligently headed back outside.

With how much liquor filled her belly, every step felt like waves crashing inside her stomach. Tch.

Seriously, if you’re going to fill up, fill up with food. Filling up on booze just makes it hard to move.

After leaving the Murim Alliance main gate and asking around, about half a shichen of walking brought a familiar sign into view.

Zhonglin Inn.

Among the administrative provinces of Zhonghua, several regions boasted of being the center of the nation, taking great pride in it. The land of Henan was one of them, which explained the unusual number of shops with ‘Zhong’ (Center) in their names.

Stepping inside, she spotted Peng Daesan at a table near an open wall, his conical hat pressed low.

Qing strode over and plopped down heavily onto the chair opposite him.

“I was just thinking I should leave word in case you showed up, but you’re already here. You got nothing better to do?”

She had figured Peng Daesan might come looking for her later and end up empty-handed.

So, she’d planned to slip the innkeeper a coin and ask him to relay that she’d settled into the Mucheon Pavilion.

Then again, covering his face seems to have emboldened him. He must be enjoying skulking around incognito.

“Did your greetings with the Alliance Leader go well?” Peng Daesan asked.

“Yep. Even got some seriously fancy lodgings out of it. Called the Mucheon Pavilion. It’s amazing, seriously.”

“The Mucheon Pavilion?”

Peng Daesan didn’t hide his surprise.

The Mucheon Pavilion was a guesthouse reserved only for the Murim Alliance’s most esteemed guests.

These ‘most esteemed guests’ usually meant Princes, Generals, and Ministers, so it was a facility rarely used since the unwritten agreement of non-interference between government and martial world took effect.

“You must have made quite the impression on the Alliance Leader,” he remarked.

“Elders tend to like me. And my peers like me too, right? Kids practically go crazy when they see me. You could say I’m universally beloved.”

“Perhaps exclude the peers,” Peng Daesan said. “The more someone gets to know you, the more disappointing you become, and it’s astonishing that there’s always more room for disappointment.”

Peng Daesan delivered the joke with an uncharacteristic hint of amusement.

“Hmm. I don’t know why my friends are getting harsher lately. That Zhuge brat is like that, Nanah too. Even Sword Brother’s words are starting to feel like they’re hitting my mouth instead of my ears.”

“Do you really not know?”

If he were to list them: aggressive table manners, crude speech and endless teasing, an inability to be serious.

Above all, she meddled freely in others’ affairs without boundaries, yet sharply drew lines when it came to her own business, creating distance.

But Qing—

“Nope. But I plan on staying ignorant, so no need to explain.”

She simply wouldn’t know because she didn’t try to know.

Besides, isn't it natural to praise each other when you're less close and tease each other when you're very close?

Since they could be considered comfortably close, it was probably time to start pointing out each other's flaws.

“A pity,” Peng Daesan murmured.

“You look like you have a lot to say. Spit it out. I won’t fix anything even if I hear it.”

“Such confident bullshit.”

“See? This is what I mean. Getting harsher. Should I just ditch my old friends and make new ones who only say nice things?”

“You get called out for talking crap precisely because you say things like that.”

“What, can’t take a joke? Oh, speaking of which, I saw that guy at the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly today. Jo-hyeong.”

Qing chuckled as she continued.

“Good grief, if you’re going to woo a woman, do it properly. He just calls everything pretty—hilariously, everything but her face. Does that even work? Compared to him, the Gongson kid brother is a real lady-killer.”

“Gongson’s kid brother?”

“Ah, yes. I mean Gongson Yoye’s younger brother. He’s a natural at wooing women. Follows you around, pulls out a handkerchief when you sit, holds your plate, prepares your utensils, even cuts the food perfectly bite-sized. Looked ready to spoon-feed you if you asked.”

Peng Daesan’s eyebrow twitched.

Hidden by the hat, Qing didn’t see it, and Peng Daesan couldn’t observe his own eyebrow.

It was an unconscious reaction he himself didn’t notice.

“Hmm. So, you liked it?” he asked.

“It was convenient, but honestly, a bit burdensome. It’s obvious he’s dead set on wooing me. Doesn’t seem like he even intends to hide it.”

“Ha. Did he at least get to see your face? Like he did with me?”

“Nope. He doesn’t know this beauty exists. I heard I’m apparently the only friend Yoye—Miss Gongson Yoye, that is—has, so maybe he wants to make me family? Hmm. Commendable as a younger brother, but as a man… a bit impure, no?”

“Hmm…”

“What’s with the ‘Hmm’?” Qing demanded.

But instead of answering, Peng Daesan responded with another question.

“So, was the brat handsome?”

“Who? The Gongson kid? Oh, he’s very handsome. No, maybe closer to pretty than handsome, with delicate features? But forget his looks; the moment he opens his mouth, it’s all cheesy lines.”

“Hmm.”

“Only women seem to swoon over him. Something about a White Qilin? That’s what the women at the Phoenix Association were whispering—something about a warm White Qilin and a cold Black Qilin. Maybe you’re the Black one, San.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, have you just been sitting there breathing this whole time? When someone talks, you should chime in.”

“Chime in?”

Peng Daesan seemed to ponder for a moment, then casually tossed out a question as if it were completely unrelated.

“So, you liked the brat?”

“Well, he passes as a friend’s brother, I suppose. Chasing after a veiled woman for his sister’s sake… is that a normal thought process? How would he know what’s under the veil? Though in my case, it would admittedly be hitting the jackpot. A grand prize extravaganza.”

“That won’t be the whole story,” Peng Daesan stated.

“Huh? What won’t?”

“About him wanting to help his sister. He wouldn’t have approached you solely for her sake.”

“Then?”

“The Gong Clan has harbored a long-standing ambition, grinding their teeth for ages. Your status and connections would undoubtedly be tempting. Haven’t you befriended elders of the Nine Great Sects and become close with several of the Five Great Clans?”

“Impure motives, you think? But that sounds kind of harsh, doesn’t it? Anyone who approaches me while my face is covered must be after my background?”

Peng Daesan’s hat slowly swiveled left and right.

“Just having their name listed among the Ten Great Clans isn’t the end. They need to establish relationships they didn’t have before. Reclaiming a family name once lost to treason isn’t something achievable with mediocre influence. They’ve likely resolved to secure marriage alliances during this Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.”

Hearing that, it did make sense. Hadn’t Gongson Yoye practically buried her entire childhood and youth in training?

Given Qing’s already dim view of that family, it seemed unlikely they would leave their heir alone.

Indeed, Peng Daesan was right.

An heir cannot be free from the generations-long ambition of a family. From Gongson Cheonil’s perspective, a woman’s beauty or appearance was entirely irrelevant.

Coincidentally, Qing seemed to have a good personality (?), possessed a genuinely astounding background, and above all, accepting her could be good news for his pitiful sister, who had dedicated her short life entirely to martial arts.

“If a man is kind to every woman he meets, there must be a reason. Unless he’s pathologically obsessed with women like Jo-hyeong.”

Qing snorted.

“Well, so what? If that’s his goal, he’ll treat his wife respectfully. As long as they’re happy together, who cares about the motive? It’s not like he can be compared to Jo-hyeong, anyway. That guy’s just plain creepy.”

“If you woo a woman for political gain, isn’t the goal ultimately everything? If you marry like that and the background disappears, would he just cast her aside?”

“Huh? What? That’s their business to sort out, not ours to judge, right? Oh! Right. Do you happen to know Miss Seol Iri? Miss Seol Iri, the Snow Flower.”

“Saying people can find affection and live well in a strategic marriage… that’s just something elders seeking benefits say. Isn’t it just mutual unhappiness for the parties involved?” Peng Daesan persisted, ignoring her attempt to change the subject.

“Hmm. San, your views on romance are surprisingly conservative. Are we really still talking about this?”

Conversations are meant to flow; clinging stubbornly to one topic only leads to stagnant arguments, like rotten water.

Qing had tried to shift the topic with Jo-hyeong, and again with the Snow Flower, yet the discussion kept returning to strategic marriage.

Maybe something’s really bothering him?

“Why? Is your family bringing up strategic marriage? Nagging about marriage is one of the duties of the elders, after all.”

“Marriage in the Peng Clan is entirely up to the individual. Unlike other clans, perhaps. Besides, they probably don’t worry much.”

“Ooh, what’s this? Confidence that you can grab anyone and marry them anytime? Can’t say you’re wrong, I guess. Come to think of it, Choryeo doesn’t seem to get nagged either. Wait… does that mean you’re not planning on marrying either, San? You hate women, don’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean the position of clan matriarch can be left vacant,” Peng Daesan replied seriously.

“True. That’s also true. Well, don’t worry. They say even a straw sandal finds its match. A woman who likes you for you, not just your face, will show up eventually.”

“Rather than wait for that, perhaps… Hmm. Never mind. More importantly, what about you? You talk as if it’s someone else’s problem, but have you never thought about marriage?”

Qing waved her hand dismissively, an attitude that clearly said ‘don’t even bring that up.’

“Don’t talk nonsense. Can’t you see? San, Sword Brother, Zhuge-ie, Changbin-ie… they’re all friends who are distant from women, right? If someone acted like a man towards me… ugh, just thinking about it makes me cringe from awkwardness.”

“Hmm.”

“Besides, right now… it’s hard enough just taking care of myself. Anyway… hmm. Right. Yeah…”

Qing’s voice dropped, becoming subdued.

It had already been five years living in the martial arts world.

She hardly ever thought about the convenient contraptions of modern civilization anymore, except perhaps when faced with a dirty outhouse. She supposed she had adapted, truly adapted.

And now, yes. Life was enjoyable.

Perhaps even more so than her life before arriving here.

It was so enjoyable that she had forgotten.

But… how long will this time last?

What if, right now, this very instant, I open my eyes to a ‘familiar ceiling’?

What if it all concludes as just a grand, nighttime dream? A secret memory cherished only by myself?

Her mind went blank, utterly devoid of thought.

Qing just sat there numbly, fidgeting with her fingers—lacing them together, then unlacing them, scratching at her innocent nails, rubbing her palms together, gently tapping the table…

Before she knew it, her palms felt damp with sweat.

A characteristic of someone anxious.

“Hey, Qing? What’s wrong?” Peng Daesan asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Uh, oh. Yeah. A bit. What were we talking about? Hmm. Right. It’s just… I get a bit like that sometimes.”

“Are you okay? You seem really unwell right now. If there’s some problem—”

“No. Right. No, I’m fine. It’s just… Right. Never mind. I think… I should head back first today.”

“…Are you okay?” Peng Daesan asked again, not sounding convinced.

At that, Qing let out a long sigh, whoo.

The human mind is endlessly complex; when faced with something one wants to avoid, one sleeps.

Those ancient pointy-nosed foreigners considered sleep and death brothers, because the only moments a person truly forgets their worries and feels peace are when they are asleep or dead.

So Qing had kept sleeping.

Eat and sleep, sleep when she had time, and sleep again at night.

When she wasn’t awake chatting with friends, or stuffing something into her mouth to chew and swallow, she simply closed her eyes.

I shouldn’t have done that.

I should have been swinging my sword during that time.

Surviving the first crisis was just pure dumb luck. Transcendent Peak? What kind of fucking bullshit was that?

First, I need to get rid of this fucking status window. Sleep can wait until after that, can’t it?

And this status window thing too.

Doesn’t it usually tell you what you’re supposed to do?

Just dumping a person in a corner of the Central Plains and saying, ‘Right, go ahead and do whatever you want,’—how the hell am I supposed to know what I should be doing?

So yeah, calling it fucking bullshit feels about right.

Qing, her face pale beneath the veil, tightly clenched her trembling hands to still them.

“It’s just… things are a little complicated,” she finally said. “I guess I’ve been a bit lazy lately. Thinking I’ll just swing my sword tonight until I collapse, then sleep.”