Chapter 211: Let's Hold a Spar

The duties of the Murim Alliance Leader were demanding.

At least, that's what the Murim Alliance Leader thought.

Those around him saw things a little differently.

All the Alliance Leader seemed to do was greet guests, eat meals, drink tea, or chat all day long while munching on snacks.

Only when the sun set and the visitors stopped coming did he pretend to work a little, merely stamping bamboo slips with a thump, thump.

So, how harsh must his job be?

Jo Hyeonryang had to spend all his working hours on welcoming guests—something he didn't want to do at all—and then, after dinner, he had to spend his precious personal time poring over bamboo slips.

The Murim Conference was only four days away now—just three nights left after tonight.

Once the Murim Conference was over, things would quiet down again. Then, he could finally catch up on the training he’d postponed while preparing for the event.

Yes, I should enter closed-door training for about a month.

After the Murim Conference ends, the Alliance Leader needs to train too.

The Murim Alliance Leader is a martial artist, a martial artist!

As he dreamed of his post-event secluded training, Jo Hyeonryang stepped out of the Alliance Leader's hall, his stomach bloated from a day filled with tea.

"Hey, Jo Hyeonryang."

A chill ran down Jo Hyeonryang's spine.

Surprisingly, a person's voice doesn't change much with age. Unless, of course, lazy workers spent their time rolling and smoking hemp leaves, but that wasn't usually the case.

He instantly recognized the voice.

"Surin? Didn't you say you weren't coming? That child, Ximen Qing, definitely said..."

"I wasn't planning on it. It's rather meddlesome for an old woman like me to interfere. I'm still pondering things, which is why I slipped in secretly like this."

Jo Hyeonryang's expression twisted.

"Damn it all. Everyone else uses being 'meddlesome' as an excuse to kick back and relax at home! Only I have to keep up this damn Alliance Leader act even at my age."

Ximen Surin sneered coldly.

"Hmph. You brought this upon yourself. Did you not foresee this?"

Jo Hyeonryang felt deeply wronged.

Whose fault was this anyway!

But he couldn't exactly say he stepped up as a representative just to stop her from becoming the Alliance Leader.

Then, Jo Hyeonryang caught sight of Ximen Surin's face and flinched.

Somehow, the wench looked even younger.

For martial artists around the Profound Realm, aging in reverse wasn't unheard of; it signified a major achievement.

"Are you already nearing the end of the Profound Realm?"

He meant to ask if she had reached the mid-stage of the Profound Realm.

The last known report placed her in the early Profound Realm, perhaps twenty years ago—in any case, it was before she secluded herself in the Divine Maiden Sect.

"About seven years now. Having reached this level, I find myself appreciating just how incredible that Muhan monk from Wuhan really was. At this point, one step isn't just one step anymore. Each stride feels like hitting a cliff wall; I don't think I can climb any higher. I feel like this might be my limit, that I was never cut out for it in the first place."

Ximen Surin's expression was bitter.

"That Muhan monk" referred to Great Monk Muhan of Shaolin, the Greatest Under Heaven of his time.

"Hmm. So that's why you raised a disciple, I suppose? Yes, I've seen the child. I hear she's been diligently training day in and day out, gathering all her friends. Where did you pick up such a good kid? I never knew you had a talent for raising disciples."

"Really? My child?"

The corners of Ximen Surin's mouth curved softly.

Jo Hyeonryang's expression could be summed up as half envy, half displeasure.

In one's later years, the only sources of pride were ultimately one's children or disciples, so it couldn't be helped.

"Er, do you happen to have any secret methods for shaping character? My great-grandson is running wild, utterly mad for women. No matter how much I scold him, it does no good. Seeing that child, Ximen Qing, she seems so upright."

"She was a kind-hearted child from the start. Her sense of justice was outstanding too. I took her in because she boldly cried out against injustice, even when facing two experts far stronger than her."

"Hmm. Still, there must be something more."

"Now, as always, the best way is to give them a sharp lesson when they don't listen."

Jo Hyeonryang snorted, "Hmph."

She had mellowed out a bit in her old age; the Rabid Bitch of the past wouldn't have spoken like that.

She used to say that if someone didn't listen, you just had to beat them until they did. Now she was putting on airs, talking about giving 'sharp lessons.'

And that usual tirade that followed—the radical hatred, claiming men needed to be beaten every three days to come to their senses—seemed to have washed away considerably.

Perhaps that was precisely why her realm had advanced.

"So, what brings you here? From what you said, you weren't even planning on showing your face?"

"I was thinking of proposing an agenda item for the Murim Conference. Well? How long are we going to tolerate those Black Store bastards? They're vermin disrupting the world; shouldn't the Murim Alliance step in and clean them up?"

"...Why the Black Store all of a sudden?"

Jo Hyeonryang looked uncomfortable.

Sure, the Black Store fellows caused some trouble, but whether they needed to be 'cleaned up' was a bit ambiguous.

One couldn't condone their dirty dealings like human trafficking, fencing stolen goods, or distributing human flesh, but having all the bugs gathered in one place kept them from spreading outwards.

Besides, it was the only channel where one could openly purchase items banned by the authorities.

"Those madmen apparently put a bounty on my disciple's head. Ten thousand gwan, was it?"

"...Ugh."

Jo Hyeonryang let out an uneasy groan.

Why did these lunatics have to provoke a mad dog living quietly? he thought.

However, Jo Hyeonryang couldn't decide the Murim Alliance's agenda on his own, and honestly, it wasn't a topic he was keen on pursuing.

Thus, instead of giving a firm answer, he changed the subject.

"Let's discuss that at the Murim Conference. I've given your disciple the Mucheon Pavilion, so why don't you spend some quality time with her? There's no need to bring up unpleasant matters right before the event, is there?"

The bleeding from Qing's injury had completely stopped, leaving only a persistent, stinging pain.

They said it had mostly healed, but looking closely, it seemed like a fortnight must have passed already.

Her superhuman health evidently included accelerated recovery.

According to Tang Nanah the physician, however, Qing couldn't afford to be complacent; observing her for longer wouldn't hurt.

But for Qing, it was a loss.

All she had eaten was honeyed sheep's milk, then honeyed water when she got tired of that, and even honeyed cow's milk when she tired of that. That damned honey!

Now, even the smell was agonizing.

Thus, the meal she finally had after six long days was truly a sea of tears, a grand feast among feasts.

Even though it was just porridge.

"What, is it that good? Your eyes are red."

Qing nodded vigorously.

Indeed, meals needed saltiness.

Sweet, spicy, fiery, and the like should only complement the fundamental salty base. Meals must be savory! They shouldn't be sweet!

Moreover, trying to chew something after so long made her realize deep in her heart why teeth were counted among the Five Blessings of the Body.

It was porridge made with dried seafood, boiled down until the rice grains had practically dissolved, then thinned further with extra water.

But to Qing, it was pure paradise.

Afterward, on the condition that she rested whenever her heart started pounding, she was allowed to resume sparring.

By now, the others had gotten used to sparring amongst themselves without Qing, so much so that Qing, whittling away at a radish in the corner, had felt unknowingly disappointed and alienated.

Besides, her carving showed absolutely no progress!

I really can't do this!

There needed to be at least some progress to find any enjoyment in it.

The Status Window could enhance physical abilities, but it couldn't do anything about the mental aspects, leaving Qing's disastrous sense of form intact.

Her body's exceptional senses were merely tools; possessing good tools doesn't automatically make one an artist.

People are endowed with different talents.

Of course, the total sum of talents isn't equal, so there's often the unfair reality that someone good at one thing tends to be good at others too.

Myths from the Central Plains distinguished between those carefully crafted and those roughly made.

It is said that Nüwa, the creator goddess of China, made humans by carefully modeling each one after her own image.

But after making one, two, three, she realized, Wow, this is no ordinary task. How on earth am I going to populate the world making them one by one like this? I can't do it! It’s too dirty, I quit!

So, she took a rope, whipped it wildly in a mud puddle, and the splattered mud transformed into people.

The mud that splattered onto Qing apparently contained no aesthetic components whatsoever, which was why, despite her body's outstanding senses, she was diligently manufacturing garbage out of food.

Having wasted perfectly good radishes all this time, now that the leash was off, Qing wasn't about to hold back just because her tongue stung a little.

She ran wild, rolling, flying, getting hit, pretending to rest a bit under Tang Nanah's nagging, then diving back in, barely maintaining a ten percent win rate. She finally got a proper workout after a long time.

On her way to the bath, she gave Cheon Yuhak a quick bow, then returned, fresh and clean, and flung open the door to her guest room.

A visitor, who had entered without notice and brazenly taken a seat, turned their gaze towards Qing.

Qing's expression bloomed like a flower in full bloom.

"Ah, Master!"

Without even taking off her shoes, Qing ran straight forward and leaped.

Nestling into her master's embrace, Qing clung tightly, showing no sign of letting go.

"Well now, look at this. Such a big girl, showing no shame. What is this disgraceful behavior?"

Ximen Surin said this, but pleased wrinkles crinkled around her eyes.

"Hehe. I missed you."

"Hmph. How long has it been since you left?"

Stroking her disciple's head, Ximen Surin suddenly tilted her head.

Has she always been this affectionate?

No, she was always affectionate, a disciple who felt no distance from her master and approached boldly, but still, it felt like she hadn't acted quite this childishly before.

She was inherently a disciple who didn't know how to fear her master and was unreserved, yet thinking back, it seemed there had been a subtle reluctance when it came to physical contact.

However, Ximen Surin dismissed it as unimportant.

Well, a child raised alone who encountered affection late in life must be slowly learning, she thought.

"So, I hear you've been very diligent in your training. Have you made any achievements?"

"Um. Well. Lately, I've been training the subtleties of yielding."

"Excellent! That's good. Your learning has undeniably leaned towards hardness. So, have you picked up the Wisdom Sword of Tai Chi?"

"Not the Wisdom Sword of Tai Chi yet. Ah, but I did happen to learn the Emperor Sword Form."

"Indeed? Did you learn anything from it?"

"Well..."

It was a bizarre conversation.

Picking up someone else's ultimate technique, not yet this, happening upon that—anyone overhearing would be utterly shocked and appalled.

It was then that Ximen Surin, whose gaze had gradually focused on her disciple's mouth, finally realized her eyes weren't deceiving her.

"...Disciple? Your mouth—well, your tongue—what on earth happened to it? Good heavens, what is this?"

"Ah. This, I cut it a bit. While training. Oh, right, have you heard of the Sword Hand Training? It's for grasping the subtleties of yielding..."

Forgetting Tang Nanah's warnings, Qing chattered on enthusiastically.

She explained the advice from the expert presumed to be the Divine Thief, how diligently she had committed to the training, and the unfortunate accident that occurred as a result—

Thwack!!

"Aaargh!!"

Clutching her head, Qing rolled at top speed across the highest quality silk rug in the Mucheon Pavilion's most luxurious guest room.

Uwaaah, it really, really hurts!

Even when her tongue was sliced, it hadn't hurt this much; despite that pain, hadn't she covered her mouth in embarrassment and lowered her head?

But encountering Ximen Surin's thermonuclear weapon left no room for other thoughts.

All distracting thoughts vanished, leaving only pain—it was almost akin to reaching nirvana.

"Sniff, this really, really hurts..."

A single tear finally trickled down Qing's cheek. It was the only time the manly Ximen Qing ever shed tears.

"As if bragging about messing up your tongue in front of your master is something to be proud of...!"

Veins still throbbed on Ximen Surin's forehead.

"Haaah. Stick out your tongue."

"Yes..."

Qing stuck out her tongue, trying her best to be polite.

Of course, "trying her best" meant sticking her tongue out at her master, a gesture that utterly failed to convey the intended politeness.

"My goodness, what is this? Like this, well... can you even move your tongue properly? Your pronunciation doesn't seem slurred. Can you taste anything? You, who loves eating so much."

Ximen Surin's voice was thick with worry.

Qing offered a resolute smile to reassure her master.

"Don't worry. Nanah told me the tongue muscles are naturally grouped separately, so this won't be a problem. Oh, right. I can even move it separately, you know? Here, look."

With the tip of her tongue split by about a cun, Qing performed an unspeakably provocative wiggle.

Naturally, this wasn't a sight to show one's master, especially a master whose forehead veins hadn't yet subsided.

She truly had a talent for asking for a beating.

THWACK!!!!

Qing froze like a wooden statue, mouth agape.

In that moment, Qing learned anew that there was pain beyond pain, that when it truly hurt, one didn't even have the presence of mind to roll on the floor.