Chapter 204: Let's Hold a Spar

Namgung Shinjae was definitely helpful for sword training. After hearing him say she relied too much on strength, Qing reviewed her martial arts and realized most of what she'd learned leaned towards forceful techniques.

The Yue Maiden Sword felt like a culmination of all principles, so setting that aside, the others were like that.

Most Demonic Arts were inevitably forceful.

The One Hundred And Eight Asura Sword, based on animalistic ferocity; the White Hand Demonic Arts, which tore and struck enemies; the crushing Black Slaying Demonic Palm.

The Buddha's Palm was also a hard style.

Buddhist martial arts are fundamentally based on direct lines and destruction—likely due to their principle of non-killing, where they subdue by crushing bones and muscles instead.

Though Qing thought just killing cleanly might be more merciful.

So, she couldn't quite grasp the softness of deflecting, penetrating, and swaying while removing strength from her body and weapon.

Fortunately, there was one suitable martial art. Qing opened her Martial Arts Window and poured points into the Shadowless Divine Hand.

Then, as usual when learning a new art, she rolled her eyes back, twitched violently, and finally came to her senses, rubbing her eyes.

Separately, the applications of the Shadowless Divine Hand invading her mind had some rather interesting aspects.

Huh, this really is a thief's technique...

The very operation of the art was exactly that; its core was the stealth needed to pull tricks without the opponent noticing.

Techniques like attaching sharp, fake-nail-like objects to the index finger to secretly cut pouches, clothes, or knots.

Using the resulting hole to slip a hand in and take things out, or put things in—exactly the methods a thief would use.

And why on earth did a technique for picking locks even exist?

It felt like the bastard who created this martial art did so with truly impure intentions.

Of course, while it detailed how to use these applications—the forms of the Shadowless Divine Hand—for nefarious purposes, the forms themselves were faithful to the Catching Hand Art: grabbing, breaking, and twisting.

So, Qing tried performing the Shadowless Divine Hand with her sword.

"Hm? Sword Brother?" Namgung Shinjae asked.

"Haha! How's this!" she replied.

The two wooden swords met with a light tok, an almost cute sound.

Qing's wooden sword slid down along Namgung Shinjae's, flowing smoothly.

When Namgung Shinjae rotated his sword to guide hers outward, Qing responded, and the two wooden swords stuck together, pushing and pulling, refusing to separate.

"My goodness, Sword Brother!" Namgung Shinjae exclaimed. "They say 'remarkable progress in a short time,' but to grasp this in just one day!"

"I'm pretty amazing, right? Want to praise me more?" Qing preened.

Namgung Shinjae rotated his wrist, turning Qing's wooden sword away with the flat of his blade, then suddenly thrust straight forward.

Qing aligned her feet and stepped aside diagonally, holding her wooden sword upright like a cup, extending it to deflect the thrust outward.

Then sticking, following, pushing, deflecting.

Their wooden swords rarely clashed directly, and when they did, only soft tok-tok sounds echoed.

After about fifty exchanges, Namgung Shinjae held up his palm and slowly stepped back.

"Whew. The soft sword is quite tiring," he said. "But... why is it that after adopting softness, your offense seems weaker? You're focusing so much on defense, only skilled at pushing and sticking, that we can't seem to settle the match."

"Hmm, yesterday you were talking about softness, so I tried applying the Catching Hand Art with the sword," Qing explained. "But yeah. Catching Hand Art isn't about stabbing or slashing."

Because Catching Hand Art originally uses the hands to snatch, bind, break, and push opponents down.

It wasn't meant to be performed with a sword in the first place.

So, treating the sword like an extra joint, she could manage to push or pull without damaging the wooden sword, but that was it.

At best, she could slide along the blade to strike his sword hand's fingers, but Namgung Shinjae was so skilled he never gave her an opening.

"Hmm," Namgung Shinjae mused. "Then shouldn't you apply these recent techniques to your original sword style?"

"I was just trying to see if this worked or not," Qing replied. "Hmm. Now I'll try practicing that way."

She had just tried performing the art with her sword instead of her hands—a self-devised attempt.

Having confirmed it worked sufficiently, it was time to integrate it into her swordsmanship.

However, Twaak!

"Ack!" Qing cried out.

"Oh! Are you alright!?" Namgung Shinjae asked quickly.

"This is nothing," Qing said, rubbing her shoulder. "I'm so sturdy, something like this is barely a scratch."

But contrary to her words, it was the first solid blow she'd taken in a long time.

If it had been a real sword, it would have been a painful defeat costing her an arm.

It was because of Qing's suddenly clumsy swordsmanship.

Trying something completely unknown is one thing.

But twisting forms imprinted on her mind and body like habits wasn't easy.

Instead, Qing's conscious effort interfered, resulting in ambiguous flailing that was neither here nor there. The moment Qing tried to move the sword by her own will, her entire body became one big opening.

"Hmm. Strange," Namgung Shinjae commented. "Sword Brother. Suddenly you seem unsure what to do? You're acting like someone experiencing real combat for the first time."

"Hmm. What do you mean?" Qing asked.

"Like someone who only perfected the forms by swinging alone, without sparring or contests, and is now trying to use them in a real fight for the first time," Namgung Shinjae elaborated.

The forms Qing used took the shape they had when the martial art reached its most complete state.

It wasn't Qing's own intent, but the intent of the art's originator, stored in her head and retrieved.

However, she could break them down into tiny fragments, giving her a proficiency similar to a master's level, evaluated as 'deconstruction of forms.'

But trying to modify them instead of just retrieving them immediately exposed the limits of her memorization-based learning.

"Um. Sword Brother," Qing began awkwardly. "Actually, I'm amazing at memorizing forms, but I can't apply them at all."

"You used swordsmanship by memorizing it?" Namgung Shinjae sounded surprised. "That's incredibly strange, but, hmm. Now that you say it, I think I understand."

When facing Qing, Namgung Shinjae always felt like he was fighting three different swordsmen taking turns.

When she used the Yue Maiden Sword, there was a child-like innocence. When she used the Divine Maiden Sword Sutra, there was the dignity of a great hero seeking to stand proudly in the world.

And sometimes, another nameless sword art appeared, one with a terrible killing intent, willing to trade bone to tear at the opponent's neck without a care for itself.

Since she didn't seem willing to reveal its origins, he just assumed it was one of the shunned murderous sword arts.

Until now, he thought his respected Sword Brother accurately read the essence of each sword art and performed it with the originator's intent.

But hearing she just memorized and performed them... should he praise her incredible memory, or lament that such outstanding intellect hindered the development of her skill?

Based on what she was saying now, ultimately—

"Sword Brother," Namgung Shinjae stated, "in terms of skill, you haven't progressed at all since we went to Mount Hua two years ago?"

"Um, perhaps..." Qing hesitated. "Are you disappointed?"

"Honestly, yes," Namgung Shinjae admitted. "You've merely developed a strange habit of overwhelming opponents with physical strength and internal energy. As a swordsman, haven't you actually regressed? How on earth have you been training all this time?"

Qing glanced around shiftily and said, "Um, I'm trying to do it properly now. Uh, it won't be helpful to you at all, Sword Brother, but could you please keep sparring with me...?"

"What are you saying!" Namgung Shinjae grinned. "I'm actually delighted and want to congratulate you for finally setting foot on the proper path, Sword Brother!"

Qing returned the smile.

Namgung Shinjae had settled into a room at the Mucheon Pavilion, so they sparred from morning. After lunch, Peng Daesan and Peng Choryeo arrived, leading to more sparring.

(There was a minor incident where Namgung Shinjae mentioned 'Half-Sword' and got beaten up by Peng Choryeo under the guise of sparring.)

After dinner, she spent time with Tang Nanah, who had been watching idly all day.

Tang Nanah wasn't participating in the Hidden Dragon Tournament anyway.

You have been poisoned by the Seven Treasures Bewitching Soul Toxin. If you do not declare surrender within six steps, even Hua Tuo cannot save you.

Not only could she not just poison someone and say that, but what would be the point of a martial contest if you announced what poison you were going to use beforehand?

While Qing trained, Tang Nanah threw some hidden weapons around, occasionally boiled medicinal herbs, or buried, baked, and burned things—showing signs of preparing poisons—but it was obvious she was bored.

So, after wandering around a bit at night, Qing washed up and got into bed.

"I can't believe this! What is all this!" Tang Nanah exclaimed.

"Hm. Traces of effort?" Qing offered.

"Sparring or whatever, you need to know when to stop!" Tang Nanah snapped, seeing the bruises scattered across Qing's skin. "You said you were getting hit quite a bit today. Then you should have asked them to go easy! Why didn't you say anything until you got like this?"

"Well, going easy wouldn't help much," Qing replied. "Besides, it's just bruises; my bones and muscles aren't hurt."

"Am I the doctor or are you? Let me see."

After checking her pulse, Tang Nanah muttered in disbelief, "Ha. But you're perfectly fine. What on earth kind of body do you have? Still! Even if you're fine, how can a woman let herself get beaten black and blue like this? Why are you training so foolishly?"

"Sweat shed today saves blood tomorrow," Qing quipped.

"You talk a smooth game," Tang Nanah retorted. "Besides, you didn't train like this at the Divine Maiden Sect... hmm. Did you even... train?"

Tang Nanah paused, confused.

Come to think of it, she seemed to recall Qing doing bizarre things at the Divine Maiden Sect and calling it training.

It felt strange to criticize someone for training hard.

"Forget it. Let's sleep."

"What? Something feels... off..." Qing murmured.

Tang Nanah tilted her head.

Something felt suspicious. What was it?

Qing's training at the Divine Maiden Sect, mostly sparring with Ximen Surin, had always been focused on practical application.

Thanks to that, she could skillfully retrieve and use techniques, emphasizing bringing out what she possessed properly.

This time, however, the sparring focused on completely internalizing what she possessed, making it her own.

After about five days of getting beaten up while sparring with Namgung Shinjae, the Peng siblings, and even Gongson Yoye who joined in, the matches she used to lose ten out of ten times turned into ones she could win once out of ten.

The man called the world's greatest thief, the Divine Thief, clicked his tongue at the sight.

"The Matriarch's disciple, eh? Tough. Very tough."

The Tracking Scent had split into two trails, a weak one and a strong one.

Naturally, he followed the stronger one, but the Bokshinjeok he sought wasn't there.

However, he did discover a strange group called the Seol Family Trading Company, which had an unusual number of experts and suspicious cash flow.

Investigating further out of suspicion, he discovered a secret branch of the Demonic Cult. But that wasn't really the Divine Thief's interest.

The fact that the Demonic Cult planted trading companies in the Central Plains to siphon money was a secret everyone already suspected anyway; discovering one specific branch wasn't particularly useful.

So, he returned to Kaifeng and tracked the almost faded Tracking Scent, which led him to the VIP guest quarters of the Murim Alliance's Mucheon Pavilion.

Lurking and waiting for the right moment, he happened to witness Qing performing the Shadowless Divine Hand with her sword.

"Th-that... that girl! She read the secret manual properly back then! She pretended completely not to know! Hah, the Divine Thief of all people was completely fooled!"

It was slightly different, but not that different.

In the sense that his martial art had been stolen, it was the same.

Realizing this, the matter of the Bokshinjeok was no longer important.

He had found the successor he'd been searching for, the one destined to overcome the challenge that had stumped all previous Divine Thieves.

Since she stole the Divine Thief's possession, she rightly deserved to inherit the Divine Thief's name.

So he looked into her, and, oh dear.

She already had a master, the Matriarch herself.

But, if he gave up because of that, he wouldn't be worthy of inheriting the name 'Divine Thief'.

The Divine Thief never gives up.

Thus, the Divine Thief thought.

If a great thief can steal anything in the world, why couldn't he steal someone else's disciple?

Rather, wouldn't the named disciple of the Zenith Among Women be a great opportunity to spread the name of the Divine Thief?