Chapter 198: Dragon-Phoenix Assembly

Drawing a straight line from sky to earth.

Taishan Presses the Peak. Heavy, like Mount Tai bearing down.

Swinging in a straight line, mimicking the earth.

Sweeping Across a Thousand Troops. As if cutting down a thousand soldiers.

Thrusting straight forward, like a point.

One Pierces All. Penetrating everything with a single point.

No matter how grandly described, they were ultimately just a downward cut, a horizontal slash, and a thrust.

Even so, Qing's forms were fierce, the sharp swish of her sword cutting through the air with murderous intent, echoing again and again.

This wasn't due to any particular enlightenment, but simply because she was putting all her strength into it, gritting her teeth with every swing.

When the body is pushed hard, stray thoughts tend to fade.

So, the body needed to be pushed hard.

But her superhuman strength and stamina refused to yield easily to fatigue.

So, harder, faster, stronger.

The sound of her sword tearing through the air grew tumultuous. The pressure generated by the blade swept across the training ground floor, kicking up dry dust.

Yet, she still had energy left, and stray thoughts crept in.

What the hell is this internal energy anyway?

If qi actually exists, why did the martial arts world vanish in that other world? Why were there no martial arts? If superhumans like this existed, would martial artists really have died just from being shot?

No. Stop thinking nonsense. Right. Count.

Counting was often the best way to focus on something.

And so, one number for each swing. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, one.

Nine swings made one set. One, two, three sets, and then after nine sets of ten, another one.

The goal wasn't really to know how many times she'd swung, but simply to empty her head.

So, this was better.

How many double-digit sets was that again?

Two hundred? Three hundred? Did I count three hundred earlier?

Counting naturally made even these simple forms require more effort.

Repeating the exertion, even a body tougher than human standards gradually grew short of breath.

And then, her internal energy began to stir on its own.

Qing forcefully shut down the internal pathways that were sneakily trying to start their work.

Can't you take a hint? A person's trying to get a little tired here.

How much time passed like that?

"Huff, hoo, finally catching my breath a bit."

She had definitely come out to the Mucheon Pavilion training ground before sunset, but now darkness had completely enveloped the surroundings, with only the wide circle of bonfires blazing.

Only now did her heart pound fiercely, her arms and legs aching as if they would break off. It finally felt like she’d gotten some real exercise.

Anyone overhearing this would have been utterly flabbergasted.

These were the words of someone who had swung a sword without using any internal energy, without even pausing for breath, for a full two and a half shichen.

Qing was wiping away her now profuse sweat when a voice called out.

"Is that the Three Realms Sword? If the human element is a thrust, it must be the Southern style Three Realms Sword."

Qing brightened and welcomed Gongson Yoye.

"Yoye! You're awake! I thought you might never wake up. Do you know how much time has passed? Are you okay?"

"Did I, did I really lose consciousness for that long? How long has it been? Three days? Four?" Gongson Yoye asked back urgently, startled.

"Just kidding. It's only been half a day. Does your head hurt?"

"How did you... Was I making a pained expression?"

"No, after drinking that much, of course your head would hurt."

"Ah... It feels like an awl is stabbing me. You say 'of course'—is this normal?"

"It varies from person to person, but if it's your first time drinking and you gulped down strong liquor like that, of course your head will ache. That's called a hangover."

"Ah. So this is called a hangover...."

It seemed she had deliberately hidden her pain because Qing was there. Now that Qing said it was normal, she finally showed it, her right eye twitching—a sign of a migraine setting in on that side.

"If you're hurting, you should say so. Don't pretend to be fine."

"But Qing, wouldn't you worry?"

"It's better that I worry. What if there really is a problem and you collapse later? If I was right beside you and didn't know, imagine how upsetting and infuriating that would be."

These were the words of someone who always pretended to be perfectly fine in front of others.

However, it's nearly impossible for people to view themselves objectively, so perhaps it was unfair to blame Qing.

Gongson Yoye listened attentively.

"Ugh, it hurts, quite a lot... Is there anything that can be done?"

"Drink lots of water. Ah, no tea. Unless it's fruit tea. And eat lots of sweet things. Drinking sweet water solves both at once, so hmm, should I ask for some fruit tea?"

"My stomach feels queasy too...."

"Right. Then you need a proper hangover cure. I should ask for some clear soup and plenty of fruit tea."

"Do I really have to eat something right now?"

"You'll feel better if you eat. Come on, let's go."

Qing grabbed Gongson Yoye's hand abruptly and started pulling her along. Gongson Yoye let herself be dragged, pretending she couldn't resist, while intently looking down at their clasped hands.

Shortly after Qing made the request to the Mucheon Pavilion servants, a table was quickly set.

A characteristic of Chinese cuisine is the rapid frying or boiling of pre-prepared ingredients.

In Chinese cooking, stir-frying isn't vastly different from deep-frying; oil is poured generously into a wok, and ingredients are stir-fried as if being deep-fried.

Gongson Yoye slurped down the clear soup, boiled with plenty of dried fish, her eyes widening as a sound of pure relief escaped her lips unintentionally.

"Haaaah, wow, this is, this is really good. It settles my stomach... Haaaah, so good."

"See? When you wake up after passing out drunk, clear soup is the best. Hmm. Or maybe a spicy broth is good too. As long as it's not greasy, hmm. Come to think of it, I'm suddenly craving something."

Before leaving home, Qing had a habit: after drinking heavily, she'd buy a cheeseburger from a famous chain, toss it on her desk, and go to sleep.

When the hangover hit upon waking, devouring it as a cure was simply amazing.

Come to think of it, it doesn't seem too difficult to make. I should ask them to make one later.

As Qing thought this, she too scooped some soup and was about to bring the bowl to her lips when she paused.

"Ah, I need to take this off. It's stuffy."

Qing casually pulled off her veil and set it down.

While she was at it, she untied her hair, letting the drenched strands hang limply like seaweed.

Gongson Yoye, who had been watching, froze mid-motion, still holding her bowl awkwardly.

Seeing this, Qing chuckled.

"Hm? What is it? Because I'm pretty?"

Gongson Yoye, still holding the bowl, simply nodded.

Then she stared intently at Qing's face for a long moment.

Unfortunately, having just sweat profusely, her hair clung damply to her skin, framing a face that was unspeakably alluring.

Lost in thought, Gongson Yoye tentatively asked.

"Um, when you have this 'hangover cure,' is it normal to feel your face flush? Like you just stepped out of a hot bath? And, also, my heart is pounding."

Qing's expression turned serious.

Yoye, don't tell me she has...

High blood pressure? Or angina?

"Let's have Nanah take a look at that."

"But why do you hide your face? When you're this beautiful. It's such a waste."

"Well. It's annoying when guys flock around. Though, judging by today, they flock around even with the veil on. Ah, not criticizing your brother or anything."

After she'd won the drinking contest, plenty of people tried to act familiar, and among them, more than a few raked her up and down with shudder-inducing gazes.

Many were outright leering; idiots who thought that because the veil hid Qing's eyes, their own lecherous stares were also invisible.

If that's the case, they should be the ones wearing veils, since the person wearing one can still see out.

"Ah. I understand. Still, it's a waste," Gongson Yoye understood immediately.

Her beauty truly possessed that level of destructive power.

"It's not like I'm going to hide it forever," Qing said. "And revealing my face now feels a bit... off. I'm not some master chef pulling off a grand reveal; it feels kind of like a childish trick."

That wasn't the original intention, but unveiling herself now would just look like a 'Surprise! I was beautiful all along!' stunt, basically gilding the lily.

If anything, it made unveiling her face even harder.

"I was thinking we could spar together after eating, but if your head shakes, the headache will probably get worse, right?"

"No, I'm fine. It's something I'm used to anyway..."

"Fine? Who on earth runs around with a hangover? Maybe if you're still drunk, but... Hmm, they lit lanterns on the canal out front earlier. Want to go see them together?"

Gongson Yoye's face bloomed brightly.

"Ah! Yes. Thank you. Thank you. Goodness, how could you say something so wonderfully considerate..."

As she spoke, she wondered if it had been right to inadvertently reveal her embarrassing inner thoughts.

Qing was inherently kind, gentle, thoughtful, good-hearted, benevolent, and even possessed a great capacity for acceptance—and now, she was even beautiful, an undeservedly precious friend.

But somehow, the distance between them felt much smaller than before. As if Qing had suddenly drawn much closer.

After being subdued and dragged away, Murong Juhui had passed out drunk.

Some heavy drinkers possess a convenient brain structure that allows them to neatly forget any drunken antics.

However, the minds of martial artists were not so frail. They might lose their reason and act out while drunk, but they had to wake up with the memory fully intact.

And so, Murong Juhui's heart broke again.

The heart, painstakingly patched together with a venomous spirit burning with resentment, shattered once more—more thoroughly than before. No, it was utterly, finely ground into powder.

"Uwaaaaaah! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaargh! Aaargh! Aaaack! Guwaaaaaaaah!"

Only the pillow, muffling her sorrowful screams, suffered.

If before it was sadness, this time it was a desperate shriek closer to despair.

And the sounds from the Murong family had a way of reaching Murong Jun's ears.

"Sister! Sister, what's wrong again! Sister!"

"Uwaah, what do I do! How can I show my face after this!"

She had ripped off her fake breasts and thrown them in front of so many people. It was the moment Murong Juhui's secret was revealed to the entire world.

Furthermore, she herself had guaranteed it, screaming at the top of her lungs that she had absolutely nothing there.

A single tear trickled down from Murong Juhui's unusually large eyes.

"What, what do I do? Is marriage completely out of the question now? Jun-ah, what if your sister lives alone forever? What man in this world would possibly like a flat-chested wench?"

"It's okay! Then I'll just stay with you, Sister! We're family!"

"J-Jun-ah!"

Murong Juhui hugged her brother fiercely.

Murong Jun thought his sister's ribs pressing against his temple hurt quite a bit, but he could judge for himself that he needed to endure it for his grieving sister.

This was all thanks to the beggar sister's—no, Sister Qing's—teachings.

Before letting words leave his mouth, think just once more whether they might be hurtful to the listener.

Telling his sister, who was sad about her small chest, that her bones hurt when they touched seemed like it would be a very, very bad thing to say.

Her cute little brother's warm comfort helped Murong Juhui overcome her despair somewhat.

Besides, despair was familiar territory for Murong Juhui.

Every pair of breasts she laid eyes on was a continuous source of despair for her.

"Right, family, I have family. And friends too."

Thankfully, she hadn't made a complete fool of herself, thanks to those gracious friends who had covered her mouth just in time.

It was slightly infuriating to see those with even a little something pretend to understand with false sympathy, but still, weren't there friends who shared the same pain, even if the depth differed?

Of course, if Murong Juhui's pain scored a hundred points, her friends' were probably around eight or nine, so no one could truly understand her sorrow.

Fire ignited in Murong Juhui's eyes.

"I won't forgive her. I will never forgive her."

"Sister?"

"That wench, I absolutely cannot forgive her. How could she dredge up someone's most painful wound? How could she do something so horrible? Right, Jun-ah?"

This, from Murong Juhui, who had put on a grand self-harm performance.

"Right! Horrible!"

"Not enough. Call her a horrible wench. Quickly."

"Horrible we-wench!"

"Bad wench, wicked wench, a bitch like the world's worst evil seed, a hypocrite putting on airs...!"

"Do I have to repeat all that?"

"Can you just say 'bad wench'?"

"Bad wench!"

"Yes. She's a bad wench. And it's an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Since she touched my weakness, I'll expose her weakness to the entire world too."

Since the wench hid her face because she didn't want people to see it, revealing it in front of everyone at the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly would be fitting revenge.

She hadn't wanted to go this far.

She had planned to let her off easy, just letting her get completely plastered and crawl on the floor in front of everyone.

Murong Jun shouted.

"I'll help too! What should I do?"

"No. Jun-ah doesn't need to dirty his hands with things like this. Just, can you stay by my side? Even if the whole world points fingers, you'll take my side, right, Jun-ah?"

The act of forcibly removing the veil of someone who deliberately hid her face was practically an act of mutual destruction.

It was an outrageous atrocity, condemned by heaven and man, sure to earn her condemnation as a truly vicious wench who dug into another's painful wounds.

But thinking about it that way only made her less forgivable.

How could that wench commit the same act yet pretend to be benevolent, becoming a noble heroine, while she, Murong Juhui, became a pathetic bitch whose small chest was also fake?

Rage flared within Murong Juhui's heart.

At least it wasn't vented outwards as screams, thanks to her comforting brother.

"Yes! I'm absolutely on your side, Sister!"

"Good. My dear Jun-ah. Now, you're really all I have left."