Chapter 227: Hidden Dragon Tournament

“Qing-ah? Where are you going?”

“I just realized I left something behind…”

She didn’t know the specifics about the Blood Cult, but she knew they were very, very bad people. Everyone she knew ground their teeth just hearing the name, which told Qing enough about their notoriety.

Thus, Qing dragged her exhausted body back towards the bathhouse.

Upon entering, she found Cheon Yuhak filling bamboo containers with the used, potency-drained water from the Purgatory Bath.

“What are you doing?” Qing asked. “Was that stuff meant to be recycled?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cheon Yuhak replied.

“Then why are you collecting it? There’s so much. Are you planning to take it all?”

Indeed, bamboo containers were already lined up all around Cheon Yuhak, enough to hold more than all the water in the tub.

“None of your business,” he said. “Anyway. You must be tired, why aren’t you sleeping?”

“About those Jamlamdan pills,” Qing started. “I looked into them, and they’re apparently made from Blood Essence. And Blood Essence is…”

“You think I don’t know what Blood Essence is?” Cheon Yuhak roughly scratched the back of his head, annoyance evident in the gesture. “Tch, this is a filthy mess. Some fake Divine Thief spreading around human pills that deserve a public execution. Which bastard decided to smear shit on someone else’s face?”

“Couldn’t we ask the unaffiliated martial artists?” Qing suggested. “Young Expert Do seemed like he might cooperate.”

“For now, just go sleep,” Cheon Yuhak said. “Your tendons haven’t fully healed yet, so rest well. We can deal with things tomorrow. I’m so tired right now I barely noticed you coming in, that says it all.”

True enough, the dark circles under Cheon Yuhak’s eyes spoke of deep exhaustion.

And from Cheon Yuhak’s perspective, Qing didn’t look much different.

While Qing might not be mentally fatigued, her body was in tatters. If not for the potent effects of the Purgatory Bath she had absorbed, she would have collapsed from exhaustion long ago.

“Still, the situation seems quite serious…” Qing murmured.

“Hah. Half the Ten Great Masters under Heaven are gathered here. What major incident could possibly happen?” Cheon Yuhak scoffed. “It looks like the Blood Cult just wants to crash the Murim Conference party and cause maximum embarrassment. The Blood Cult. Those bastards.”

Cheon Yuhak’s tired expression crumpled further.

“Let’s just sleep for now. Even if it’s urgent, we can’t do anything in this state, and it’s not that urgent anyway. Tomorrow, hmm. Well, the Divine Thief’s business should be handled by the Divine Thief. Don’t go blabbing about this anywhere.”

“I’m not a child, you think I can’t tell what should and shouldn’t be said?” Qing retorted. “You should get some sleep too, Master. You look exhausted.”

“Alright.”

With that, Qing headed back towards the Mucheon Pavilion.

Then a thought occurred to her. But what were those bamboo containers for? I got distracted by the Jamlamdan and forgot to ask.

The unaffiliated martial artists were staying in the Murim Alliance’s Unaffiliated Guest Hall, so Qing didn’t need to search all over Kaifeng for them.

“By the way, Master, how do you come and go so freely within the Murim Alliance? Are you here as a guest?” Qing asked Cheon Yuhak as they walked.

“Hah. A single set of plain clothes like the servants wear is enough to wander anywhere without looking suspicious,” he replied. “You should get yourself a set of servant girl’s clothes too; the entire estate will be your playground.”

The larger the estate, the less anyone suspected someone dressed as a servant.

This wasn’t necessarily because identity verification was lacking in the primitive, ancient, barbaric Central Plains, but because people inherently tended to treat those in certain attire as part of the scenery.

Even back in Qing’s homeland, not just the Central Plains, wearing a reflective vest was often enough to wander around without drawing much suspicion.

With the two of them together, it looked like Qing was simply accompanied by her personal servant.

So, naturally, no one bothered to ask who Cheon Yuhak was.

Thus, they arrived in front of the Unaffiliated Guest Hall.

The Unaffiliated Guest Hall ranked somewhere in the middle to lower tiers among the Murim Alliance’s guest accommodations, making it worlds apart compared to the Mucheon Pavilion where Qing was staying.

“Is Young Expert Doraeman inside?” Qing asked a servant at the guest hall.

They found that the rooms weren’t private but doubles, with two people sharing.

The room wasn’t spacious, with beds against opposite walls, and it was easily four times smaller than even one room in Qing’s Mucheon Pavilion quarters.

“Young Lady Ximen? What brings you here?” Doraeman asked, surprised.

“I came because I have something to discuss regarding yesterday,” Qing explained. “And this Young Expert must be the one who uses the Ground Fist Technique…”

“I am Ma Yeongjeon,” the man said.

Being a double room, there was another person besides Doraeman – Ma Yeongjeon of the Ground Fist Technique.

Ma Yeongjeon offered a strange smile, glancing between Qing and Doraeman before speaking.

“Something for the two of you to discuss, eh? Then I should probably make myself scarce. Young Expert Do seems to have quite the talent, I see.”

“Brother Ma, it’s not like that,” Doraeman quickly said. “Hmm. There’s probably no need for you to leave. If Young Lady Ximen is referring to yesterday, she must have come to talk about the Jamlamdan, correct?”

At this, Ma Yeongjeon’s expression hardened instantly.

“Hey. Are you just saying things like that carelessly?” he hissed. “I don’t know anything about it, so I’ll just be…”

Seeing him try to slip away, Qing knew immediately. He took it too.

In truth, seeing the Bad Karma of all the unaffiliated martial artists rise simultaneously had already made her quite certain.

If you consumed something made by grinding up people, wasn't it obvious your Bad Karma would increase?

Whether they knew the true nature of Jamlamdan or not.

Ignorance is no excuse when it comes to poison. Just because you didn't know you ingested poison doesn't mean the poison spares you. The toxic substance entering the body doesn't think, ‘Ah, you didn’t know I was poisonous? Well then, as a special favor, I’ll let you avoid addiction.’

“Young Expert Ma, would you care to listen as well?” Qing asked. “Yesterday, Young Expert Do gave me a Jamlamdan. Curious about its effects, I investigated, and what else could it be but a wicked object crafted from Blood Essence?”

“Blood… Essence…” Doraeman didn’t shout, but mumbled the words.

His expression turned nauseated, and his face grew pale.

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “That it was such a thing.”

“I’m not here to blame you,” Qing said. “It’s not something that should be widely known, so I just want to find out who is distributing these pills and what their purpose is. Young Expert Ma, would you hand over the one you have as well? I think we need to see if it’s the same item.”

“I-I don’t know anything about it!” Ma Yeongjeon blustered. “Jamlamdan made from Blood Essence? Young Expert Do, I never thought you were that kind of person. I am truly disappointed, yes, disappointed in you.”

Qing’s eyes narrowed.

“Do I really need to go around asking all your previous tournament opponents about your strange speed and power for you to hand it over willingly?” she asked coolly.

“A martial artist must always hide thirty percent of their true skill—” Ma Yeongjeon began.

“I have ways of knowing everything, so hand it over.” Qing cut Ma Yeongjeon off and held out her hand.

Ma Yeongjeon stared at Qing’s fair, delicate hand with trembling eyes, then seemed to make up his mind, swallowing hard and steeling his gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was determined to feign ignorance.

Truthfully, if he stuck to that story, Qing couldn’t really press him further.

Without clear proof that he had taken Jamlamdan, merely accusing him based on suspicion – especially when the pill was supposedly a wicked item made from Blood Essence – wouldn't hold up.

There was no real way to prove it either. As the Murim saying goes, a martial artist should hide thirty percent of their skill; he could just insist that was his original ability.

Claiming "I can see people's karma" would sound like shamanistic nonsense and wouldn't be believed either.

Qing sighed deeply.

If there was no other way, what could she do?

Qing gave up on persuasion.

Only on persuasion.

After her deep sigh, Qing suddenly shot up from her seated position, legs extending.

Simultaneously, CRACK!!!

A crisp sound, like a walnut splitting!

“Aaargh!” Ma Yeongjeon clutched the top of his head, rolling around on the guest hall floor.

The sheer power behind that head-flick was devastating, a terrifying force too overwhelming for the mortal world below Divine Maiden Peak.

“Why the hell won’t people listen when I talk nicely?” Qing snapped, her tone changing completely. “Did I look like that much of a pushover? If I act all prim and proper, do you think I’m a fucking joke?”

“Y-Young Lady Ximen?” Doraeman stammered, taken aback.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m a Ronin,” Qing stated flatly.

“Ah. Hmm. I see.” Doraeman nodded in understanding.

Female Ronin were rare, but the few that existed usually had mouths like sewers. It was unavoidable, a basic requirement to avoid being looked down upon as a woman in the Ronin world.

“Young Expert Ma?” Qing called out. “Done playing dead? Are you going to hand it over nicely now? Or do you want to be beaten like a dog before spitting it out? If you’re going to gobble down pills made from ground-up people, then I can act like a bitch too, you know?”

“Ugh, what is the meaning of this?” Ma Yeongjeon groaned from the floor.

“Oh? Still haven’t come to your senses?” Qing tilted her head. “How about it? Shall we have a duel to the death, staking my grandfather’s honor? Want to bet whether we find a bright red Jamlamdan when we search your corpse?”

Qing expertly drew her Bokshinjeok—or rather, attempted to—and released her True Qi for the first time in a while.

Excited by the rare outing, her True Qi surged forth en masse, rushing through the sixteen-lane highway carved into her meridians by the power of the Inverse Marrow Washing Sutra, reaching the weapon at incredible speed.

However, what emerged wasn't the Bokshinjeok, but the Blue Sword that had been filling its spot.

Consequently, thick threads of Sword Energy, radiating immense power, shot out from the azure blade like crackling lightning.

“Let’s see just how high your realm is, shall we?” Qing continued, the Sword Energy pulsing around her. “For your information, even Transcendent Realm masters die if I get my hands on them. If I say ‘die,’ even Transcendent Realm masters die. Ever hear of the Demonic Cannibal? He acted tough in front of me too, and now he’s gone ahead to send his regards to Buddha. Ever heard the saying ‘death doesn’t follow seniority’? Or maybe you’d like another Jamlamdan before you go, since ‘a well-fed ghost looks better’?”

Putting aside her words, the terrifying display of martial power alone made Ma Yeongjeon shrink back completely.

Unlike the image she presented in the tournament, this ferocious veiled woman was a true master!

Not just her martial prowess, but she was clearly an adept of internal arts who had cultivated profound internal energy.

Especially those thick Sword Threads – emanating the essence of True Qi that coiled like snakes rather than fine threads – how could he possibly act defiant in front of that?

“I… I’ll give it to you,” Ma Yeongjeon stammered.

“Should have done that from the start,” Qing said dismissively.

As Qing went to put the weapon back, she felt a slight sting and realized it was the Blue Sword.

Thanks to the White Hand Demonic Arts, the blade merely grazed her, causing a minor sting. Without it, the cut would have likely split her skin down to the bone.

“Oh my. What’s this dagger doing here?” Qing mused aloud, looking pointedly at Cheon Yuhak. “My Bokshinjeok… hmm. When were you planning on returning it?”

“Ahem.” Cheon Yuhak, who had been watching Qing’s atrocious behavior with a stunned expression, let out an uncomfortable cough.

He too had completely forgotten.

Not about the Bokshinjeok, but about Qing’s capacity for violence.

Come to think of it, this was the wench who had kicked a man in the groin hard enough to send him flying a zhang (3.3m) high back at the Black Store.

She had the gall to assault a Black Store merchant within Black Store territory, yet seeing her act like a refined lady since they met again, he had completely forgotten that side of her.

Qing dusted off her hands and spoke.

“Perfect timing. I need to ask the other experts staying in the other rooms to gather here. Since you know their faces, Young Expert Ma, would you mind doing me the favor?”

“Uh, but Young Expert Do…” Ma Yeongjeon started, glancing at Doraeman.

“Don’t you know that confessing when asked nicely is the way to find redemption?” Qing interrupted smoothly. “Our Young Expert Do here can stay comfortable.”

At this, Doraeman’s expression became extremely uncomfortable, seriously contemplating whether this counted as bullying or just veiled intimidation.

Qing clenched her fist, gently rubbing the prominent bone at the base of her middle finger as she continued.

“Now. Young Expert Ma, no, Great Expert Ma?” she addressed the man on the floor. “Will you go now, or would you prefer a light tap on the head first and go bleeding?”