Chapter 229: Wanderers Have Their Own Code of Honor

After that, they started compiling descriptions of the man's appearance from everyone present.

Cheon Yuhak took out paper and charcoal, sketching as they talked, gradually adjusting the drawing based on the emerging details.

"Oh, you were an artist? To prepare like this. Young Lady, you were more serious about this than we thought."

At that, the warriors' gazes warmed considerably.

Truly, who in the world looks out for wanderers?

They were unaffiliated martial artists, often looked down upon as cheap swords-for-hire, shields to place in the front line, or even implicitly scorned as bandits when jobless. They couldn't help but be sensitive to even small acts of kindness.

Even if she was a Divine Maiden Sect disciple whose rank was a bit lacking, Qing was still a female expert from a prestigious orthodox sect.

Instead of taking the simple route of running off to the Murim Alliance to tattle, she was looking out for them, asking if they weren't the ones at a disadvantage. Of course, they couldn't help but be moved by her consideration.

"Hmph. I'm always serious," Qing naturally accepted the praise.

Cheon Yuhak, the one actually drawing the composite sketch, felt his eyebrow twitch, but this wasn't the time or place to start calling her names like 'this wench' or 'that wench'.

Since everyone's descriptions varied slightly, the reliability of a composite sketch based solely on witness testimony wasn't very high, much like the situation back at the Black Store.

However, unlike the Black Store's sketch, where the witnesses didn't really care because it wasn't their problem and had just taken the coins offered, these unaffiliated warriors were quite sincere. After wasting a pile of paper, they finally produced one portrait that everyone agreed on.

Hmm. Just an ordinary pig nose…

The figure looked average; the only distinguishing feature was an upturned nose. Besides, the warriors who hadn't recognized him even after seeing him in person weren't likely to know him from a drawing, and Qing, naturally, lacked the insight to say anything like, this looks like someone I know.

"For now," Qing said, "that guy will definitely show up before you all again."

"Why do you say that?" one warrior asked.

"Uh… Because criminals always return to the scene of the crime?" Qing offered.

"Indeed!"

"The Young Lady's marvelous deduction shines!"

Exclamations of admiration burst out from here and there.

The warriors, thoroughly buttered up, had completely fallen for it.

Now, they were prepared to clap and agree enthusiastically no matter what nonsense Qing spouted.

Again, wanderers were fundamentally a group starved for affection.

"That's true," Qing continued, "but it's also because you've all basically given him leverage. The Jamlamdan must be expensive, so he didn't do it just to extort money. He'll probably try to blackmail you into doing something shady."

At this, the martial artists' expressions darkened.

Hearing it laid out like that, they realized how rash they had been to gulp down a suspicious drug just because someone mentioned the Divine Thief.

But even if the genre suddenly changed and they regressed to their pasts as wanderers, the decision of these unaffiliated martial artists likely wouldn't have been much different.

Such was their desperation regarding the Hidden Dragon Tournament.

Actions born of desperation are perfect fodder for being manipulated by others.

"It would be good if we could catch him, but it could be dangerous, so don't needlessly provoke him. Alright, alright, take one of these each. It's called Tracking Scent. You all know what Tracking Scent is, right?"

Qing distributed the vials Cheon Yuhak had provided, one for each person.

"If you meet him again, secretly sprinkle it on him. No need to spray it in his face, just a little on his trousers or something similar."

And so, that was the conclusion.

If he contacted them again, apply the Tracking Scent.

Even if one person failed, if several tried, surely one would succeed.

And after that, they would swarm him and capture him.

Then, through amicable cooperation, they would uncover his motives and any potential mastermind behind him, taking appropriate measures to ensure the secret didn't leak.

It seemed somewhat sloppy, a simple plan without many detailed specifics.

But for Qing, this was a remarkably brilliant idea; everyone should have stood up and offered their utmost respect, and even that wouldn't have been enough.

"Um… but about that."

Wang Nopil, the chair-wielding wanderer—no, the Wanderer King Uija—carefully began.

"But if people suddenly start dropping out left and right, wouldn't the guy get suspicious and become wary? I've made it this far to the round of sixteen, quite a high position. If I don't take the drug, he'll definitely think it's strange. That's what I personally thought, you see, not that I'm definitely saying I'm going to take the drug, but…"

His explanation trailed off rather lamely as Qing's aura turned menacing.

"What, you want to gobble down more Jamlamdan?" Qing demanded. "What's this? What does it mean? Does it mean you want a beating?"

Taking one more pill would push him past the point of no return.

He would change from a pitiful, foolish pawn who got used, to just a pitiful, foolish thing that got used.

"Well then," Wang Nopil ventured, "maybe if I could get some other Jamlamdan and take that…"

"If that's what you want to do, don't ask my permission, just decide for yourself," Qing sighed deeply and replied. "But if you go around Kaifeng looking for Jamlamdan, don't you think someone will notice? It's better if he just thinks the guy who sprinkled the powder on you is suspicious. He'll show up again asking why you didn't take the pill, won't he?"

Truthfully, there was only one person she could really show the composite sketch to.

"Zhuge-ah, do you happen to know who this is?"

"Hmm. Is this some kind of test? Hmm."

Zhuge Ihyeon stared at the sketch for a long moment before snapping his fan shut with a chak!

"Oh, you know who it is?" Qing asked.

"I do not," Zhuge Ihyeon replied. "Composite sketches aren't very reliable in the first place. Still, the style here doesn't look like a mere drawing. I can only tell that the artist's strokes are extraordinary."

Zhuge Ihyeon was still just one of the successors.

If she had given him a name or moniker, he could rattle off information about the person, but he wasn't confident about identifying someone just from a picture.

"What? Then why did you snap your fan?" Qing asked.

"Sister. Can't a man simply snap his fan?" Zhuge Ihyeon replied with a broad smile.

Qing tilted her head.

What's this, why does that annoy me?

Still, it wasn't annoying enough to warrant dropping a nuclear bombardment on him. Truly, he lived up to his reputation as the most promising muscle-head from the Zhuge Clan, famous for its profound schemes.

Finding the powder-sprinkler wasn't exactly an urgent matter for Qing, nor was it some lifelong quest demanding bloody revenge.

It was more along the lines of, a bad guy happened to cross my path, so I should probably find him and beat him to death.

She also didn't like the Hidden Dragon Tournament's reputation being tarnished, especially since she was likely to be its champion.

So, Qing wasn't exactly waiting with bated breath for the villain to appear.

Thus, while preparing for the tournament, hanging out with the Half-Sword Twin Saber Society, and subtly enjoying the constant stimulus—like the sensation of a blade scraping her skin while wearing the coarse hemp robe—she soon found herself standing in the arena for the Round of 16.

Her opponent for the Round of 16 was a face Qing recognized.

…Mount Hua's… disciple…

It was Changbin, the one who hadn't shown up even once after she invited him to visit the Mucheon Pavilion.

She considered him somewhat of a friend, one of the few men she felt she could actually hold a decent conversation with, yet not having seen him for a while felt like they were back to square one.

Qing chuckled and returned his greeting.

"But Changbin-ah. How come you haven't paid your respects even once at this elder's lodging? I'm quite sure I told you to visit."

Hearing the laughter mixed in her voice, Changbin's expression also eased considerably.

"Th-that is. Isn't it a bit… improper, you know. Going to a woman's lodging… ahem, what if… unfavorable rumors start… that sort of thing…"

Changbin stammered out a rambling excuse.

To summarize: It was complicated.

"Ah. Sorry. I was a bit thoughtless," Qing said.

She hadn't considered Changbin's delicate heart, which turned him into a complete coward when it came to interacting with women.

If Qing had stormed the Mount Hua guest quarters and dragged him out, he probably would have followed meekly, but there was no way the shy Changbin would actually come visit just because she'd casually invited him over.

"Alright, come at me."

"I'm com—"

Changbin charged, his words a muddled mix of formal and informal speech, cut off mid-word.

The 'Hua' in Mount Hua uses the character 華 (splendor/flower).

In Qing's homeland, it was often used to mean 'splendor', but in ancient times, 花 (flower) and 華 (splendor/flower) were often used as homonyms with the same meaning.

The meaning 'splendor' also didn't mean 'luminescence' in the ancient Central Plains, but rather 'dazzlingly beautiful'.

However, the Mount Hua Qing had actually seen was a crudely towering stone mountain, widely acknowledged as the most rugged and perilous stone mountain under heaven.

To call that stone mountain flower-like suggested that the eyesight of the Central Plains' ancestors must have been practically at the level of the blind.

Thus, the sword of Mount Hua resembled that so-called flower – which in reality, was more like a blade-like cliff face.

Changbin's sword seemed to sway gently, then, along the path traced by the chillingly white sword energy, points of light like flower petals seemed to bloom explosively, dotting the air.

The sword energy floated like petals on the wind, but that was just an illusion; Mount Hua's true essence lay not there, but in its fierce sword force.

The gently bending sword suddenly dropped in a trajectory like a bolt of lightning.

The flashy sword energy, fluttering like petals, was merely a distraction. It was a terrifying technique that would instantly take your head off if you didn't focus solely on the blade itself.

Clang! Qing met the lightning strike head-on with raw force, deflecting it.

After knocking his sword aside, Changbin's form swayed and undulated, showing off his skillful footwork.

Aren't Mount Hua techniques a bit sinister? Qing mused internally.

The fluidly swaying movement technique was one she had experienced before in spars with Changbin: Mount Hua's Willow Branch Floating style.

Changbin, who had been swaying loosely like a willow branch, suddenly stomped down with a heavy, true step.

Mount Hua's seven steps—the Seven Star Steps.

Qing took a step back, leaning her upper body away defensively.

The opening moves of the Plum Blossom Seven Absolutes Sword, which she had seen several times before, sliced empty air just in front of her shoulder.

However, the illusory petals that had been rushing along the trajectory of the sword now swept directly towards Qing.

In Mount Hua's arts, illusion and variation are one and the same.

The sword energy forming the brilliantly alluring plum blossoms was an illusion designed to steal one's gaze, but they were also, in themselves, sharp blades of sword energy.

Only then did Qing's iron sword blaze upwards in a large semicircle, glowing like a sunset-colored sun. The delicate petals seemed to melt away upon contact with the setting sun, vanishing without a trace.

Then, Changbin's sword changed again.

The exquisitely moving sword tip drew the branches of a plum blossom tree extending with elegant lines in the air.

Lingering sword energy was a characteristic of the Mount Hua Sect; this time, it was as if plum blossoms blooming on those spectral branches reached out towards Qing.

However, hmm. I think I can see the openings.

Just as she wondered why Mount Hua's swordsmanship seemed so unnaturally clear to her, she realized it was because of that old geezer—the lingering trace of the Celestial Martial Emperor, who had existed alone amidst the falling flowers of sword force that once filled the world.

One Pierces All. A seemingly ordinary thrust from her Three Realms Sword technique split the illusory plum blossom branch like a stalk of bamboo and continued onward.

Startled, Changbin leaped back abruptly to create distance.

"How?"

Caught somewhere between formal and informal speech, he simply omitted the sentence ending. As Changbin asked this, Qing replied, unable to hide her smile.

"Skillfully? Come now. You need to step it up."

"Then, I'm com—ing!" Changbin charged again, his expression bright this time.

Whatever else could be said, he was ultimately a martial talent who genuinely enjoyed the moment of pouring out everything he had.

For a while, illusory flowers bloomed across the arena, fluttered wildly, seemed to fall and settle on the ground, only to be lifted again by an unseasonal spring wind blowing in late May, scattering once more in a dazzling display.

Finally, Changbin came to a halt, offered a formal fist salute, and said, "Whew. I lost."

Having displayed all seven techniques of the Seven Absolutes and the fourteen techniques of the Fourteen Strokes within the Plum Blossom Sword repertoire, Changbin wore an expression of relief and satisfaction.

"Winner, Divine Maiden Sect disciple Ximen Qing!"

This time, quite a few cheers erupted from the crowd.

And understandably so—hadn't it been a dazzling clash, flashing with brilliant displays of martial energy arts?

Since Changbin knew Qing's actual skill level, he had gone all out from the very start, not holding back or hiding his techniques. Qing, in receiving his attacks, had naturally responded by generating her own sword energy.

For the common folk watching, a clash featuring manifested sword energy between established peak experts—one they could watch without any reservations or fear of collateral damage—was something they could truly only witness on rare occasions like this tournament.

Besides, Mount Hua's techniques were inherently flashy and visually spectacular.

Ugly Sword Maiden! Ugly Sword Maiden! Ugly Sword Maiden!

The cheers were definitely cheers, but the content was still… a bit peculiar.

Even if the words were the same as before, the emotion contained within them now felt closer to a sort of grudging affection.

Of course, Qing, who hadn't cared about the nickname before, didn't suddenly start caring now.

After jumping down into the passage beneath the elevated fighting stage, Changbin awkwardly approached her and started talking.

"Um. Young Lady Ximen? Doesn't it… bother you? I really don't think there's any reason for you to hide such beauty…"

"It's not like I'm particularly trying to hide it," Qing replied. "But wouldn't it be a bit embarrassing at this point to just take off the veil and be like, 'Ta-da! Surprise, I was actually incredibly beautiful all along'?"

"That… that's true, though. Yo," Changbin trailed off awkwardly.

"No, seriously. Come on," Qing said. "Either speak comfortably or don't. Are you going to keep being so ambiguous like this?"

"But… then again, Young Lady, you are technically a complete elder in terms of seniority… so speaking informally… it doesn't seem quite right… or rather, it's not that it isn't right… but hmm, let's just say… it's not easy…"

It was clearly difficult for him to drop the formalities entirely, yet he didn't quite want to keep using overly respectful honorifics either—such was Changbin's delicate and conflicted heart.

(T/N You all have no idea how badly I wanted to put sobbing emojis. 3 Cheers for Ugly Sword Maiden! 😭😂)