Chapter 230: Wanderers Have Their Own Code of Honor

As soon as she returned to the Mucheon Pavilion, Qing urgently changed her clothes.

Having wrapped her entire body in the Silk Cuffs, she found it unbearably stuffy. It felt suffocatingly awful, like being trapped in a small room filled with hot steam, or wearing a thick mascot costume in the middle of summer.

"Phew. I can finally breathe."

With the wind blowing freely through her Hemp Robe, she finally felt alive again. Simultaneously, even without looking, she could vividly feel the flow of the atmosphere within the narrow radius of about one step around her.

Ironically, after the oppressive binding, the liberation of her senses made them feel even sharper.

Ah. So this is what it feels like to see my surroundings without using my eyes.

They said the range of flow detection would gradually expand if she continued living with her senses heightened. Right now, it was barely a step, perhaps two inches, but it wouldn't stay that way.

Qing truly understood what Cheon Yuhak meant by calling it a 'trick'.

Should she call it a kind of constitutional improvement?

Ximen Surin's training involved drawing out Qing's practical senses, establishing her combat style, and guiding her to the next realm.

However, the Divine Thief's inheritance was more like bestowing wondrous abilities beyond martial arts.

After all, if a lineage passed down through single succession had relied solely on slow, orthodox skill training, it would have long since been extinguished.

Come to think of it, didn't I not make much progress regarding the subtleties of softness?

That was what she intended to learn in the first place.

Yet, the only things that had become softer were her joints.

Qing bent her wrist backward.

Her wrist bent slightly past ninety degrees, and the joints of her fingers, though gentle, curved back further.

Anyone could do it if they pushed with their other hand, but it was a feat normally impossible using only the strength of one hand.

Cheon Yuhak could apparently touch his forearm with his middle fingernail, so Qing, having only undergone the Flaying Muscles and Squeezing Bones twice, still had a long way to go.

I need to complete that Lithe Grace Refinement quickly too.

It’s just boring now, anyway.

Besides, I even found a parasite to take the pain for me.

With a light heart, Qing pestered her master to torture her.

“Master, when are we doing the Lithe Grace Refinement again? Can’t we do it tomorrow?”

Cheon Yuhak was dumbfounded.

The last time she brought it up, she was full of reluctance, trembling yet asking with a look of clear resolve.

But what was this now?

She sounded like she was wheedling for pocket money.

“This girl is harsh, really harsh. Not even a hint of fear now. Is it bearable? Just thinking about getting messed up like that still makes my knees weak.”

“Aw, come on, is it really that bad?”

“Let’s deal with the Jamlamdan matter first. If that guy shows up while you’re recovering, you’ll just have to sit there twiddling your thumbs, won’t you?”

“I just wish we could get it over with quickly…”

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

Because, obviously, she was in a hurry.

She hadn't even grasped the Transcendent Realm yet, so she had to compensate in other ways.

The Divine Thief's training felt less like training and more like some wondrous human modification or developmental procedure, so she wanted to finish it quickly.

“Master, please? If we finish it quickly, it’s easier for you and good for me too. Right? Please?”

“Among all the Divine Thieves in history, you must be the only one—no, the only wench—to beg and plead to be messed up.”

In the end, Cheon Yuhak grumbled about how difficult preparing the Purgatory Bath was before leaping over the wall.

After he left, Qing actually felt a pang of guilt. This really was like bossing her master around.

So, deciding she should at least help prepare the medicinal bath tonight, she lay down on Cheon Yuhak’s mat to wait.

Had about a ke (15 mins) passed? Just as she was starting to feel sleepy, she sensed someone landing within her one-step radius through the sudden shift in the air's flow.

“Well, look at this. Stealing your master’s spot now? You truly have the nature of a thief. I really picked up one crafty disciple.”

“Hehe. I was just waiting a moment to help you, Master. Did you get the ingredients already?”

“No.”

Cheon Yuhak shook his head, his expression serious as he continued.

“The stench of Tracking Scent is overwhelming. It seems that guy has appeared.”

Among the eight martial artists who advanced to the Round of 8, two were unaffiliated.

The two advancing to the Round of 8 were Young Expert Wang Nopil, who used a chair, and Young Expert Ma Yeongjeon of the Ground Fist Technique.

Truthfully, by the round of 16, even the martial artists from the Orthodox Faction were experts deliberately nurtured by prestigious sects, making them incomparable to those of wanderer origins.

Nevertheless, the reason two unaffiliated martial artists made it to the Round of 8 was simply due to luck in the tournament bracket.

There were two matches pitting unaffiliated martial artists against each other, guaranteeing two would advance.

Regardless, it meant they were among the top eight of the current generation's successors, a joyous occasion for the unaffiliated martial artists, who felt it as if it were their own accomplishment.

So, after the round of 16 matches, the unaffiliated martial artists gathered for an after-party.

It was a gathering to celebrate the advancement to the Round of 8 and, incidentally, to console those who had been eliminated.

However, the lively, good mood suddenly plummeted. This was because Wang Nopil and Ma Yeongjeon had stepped out briefly, saying they had a visitor, only to return after encountering the man who distributed the pills.

Qing arrived with Cheon Yuhak at the Zhongzheng Restaurant precisely when the atmosphere had settled into this heavy awkwardness.

Seeing the state of affairs, Qing inwardly clicked her tongue.

If they're having an after-party, they could at least pick a decent place. This is some dingy, unpopular spot in a corner—not even a proper restaurant, just an eatery.

It wasn't a fancy restaurant or a tavern, just a simple eatery, which spoke volumes about the typical financial situation of a Wanderer.

Still, it looked like they had rented the whole place.

Qing broke the gloomy mood with some banter.

“Having a party without me? How could you leave me out like this, everyone? I’m hurt. Is this all our bond as fellow wanderers amounts to?”

“Ah. Young Lady Ximen. Well. The place is a bit humble, you see…” one of the wanderers replied.

“Humble? What’s humble about it?” Qing countered. “It has a roof, someone else is doing the cooking, and you even rented the whole place so we don’t have to worry about bothering others. This is practically a feast! Ah. Young Expert Wang, Young Expert Ma, congratulations on reaching the Round of 8.”

Saying so, Qing poured them both a drink first.

The two, who had looked grim, accepted the cups and gulped them down.

“Anyway,” Qing continued, “the Tracking Scent went off, so I came to check. You met him, right? What did he say?”

“He left this,” Young Expert Wang Nopil presented another wooden box.

From its ornate appearance, adorned with vibrant red patterns, anyone could tell it was a treasure chest containing something precious.

Qing opened it to find another crimson pill.

“What, he gave you another Jamlamdan?”

Young Expert Wang Nopil replied, “This time, he called it an elixir. He said it has some side effects, but it would grant ten years’ worth of internal energy.”

“He gave you an elixir?” Qing asked, surprised. “Without asking for money? Just gave you an elixir as a gift?”

Young Expert Wang Nopil added, “He did say something like, ‘Wouldn’t it be fun if a wanderer won?’, and asked us to reveal later that we took an elixir given by the Divine Thief.”

“Tsk.”

Cheon Yuhak, standing beside her, clicked his tongue loudly.

“Anyway, you both got marked with Tracking Scent, then.”

According to Cheon Yuhak, he had applied slightly different variations of the Tracking Scent he distributed to the martial artists.

Since applying the Tracking Scent inevitably leaves some on the applier as well, this was to track the culprit who would emit multiple types of scents simultaneously.

Ultimately, since two types of scents were now on the culprit, their initial objective had been achieved splendidly.

Young Expert Wang Nopil said, “If it weren’t for Young Lady Ximen’s words, we would have taken it without suspicion. But now we know this is no ordinary scheme. What kind of idle person in this world would bestow an elixir upon a wanderer? I could understand the Jamlamdan, perhaps.”

The other martial artists nodded in agreement.

Qing clapped her hands together.

“Alright. Since the guy just left, isn't this moment when he's least suspecting the perfect time? Before he cooks up another scheme, yes, I think ambushing him tonight would be best. What do you think?”

At her words, killing intent flickered in the martial artists’ eyes.

Unlike the young masters and ladies of the Orthodox Faction, those of wanderer origins were wild men accustomed to shedding blood as part of daily life.

They shouldn't be like this already. Are they planning to announce they're going for a fight to the whole neighborhood or something?

Qing lightened the mood again.

“For now, let’s just enjoy the after-party. Everyone here knows how to expel alcohol fumes, right? Then tonight, it’s my treat, a real one.”

Qing only earned money and never spent it, so her purse was bulging.

Her friends were appalled whenever she even reached for her purse—Peng Daesan and Namgung Shinjae because of the Central Plains notion that letting a woman spend money was a man’s shame, and Tang Nanah because she regarded Qing as some kind of pauper or beggar.

So, as she finally loosened her purse strings, had food delivered from proper restaurants, and poured good liquor freely, the atmosphere naturally soared.

When she returned after stepping out to use the latrine for a moment, Cheon Yuhak clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“What kind of idiotic plan is this? I’ve never heard such a stupid suggestion for an attack in my life.”

“What is it?” Qing asked.

“Now that the Tracking Scent is on him, can’t we just follow him for a few days and figure out who he is and what his scheme is?”

“Well, yeah, that’s true,” Qing admitted. “But, you know. When people get greedy, they make mistakes, they waver, right? If we want to resolve this together and bury it, we shouldn't give anyone time for second thoughts.”

If there was one thing Qing cared about fiercely, it was her own safety.

Qing’s plans always started with the premise of running away if things went south.

The enemy’s location was identified, and they could take their time to spy on him whenever they wanted.

Charging in blindly without properly ascertaining the enemy's identity, skills, and so on?

It was, admittedly, a rather foolish plan.

Because Sun Tzu, who famously declared, "Know thyself, know thy enemy," and then urged people to please actually know their enemy, became an immortal, absolute victor with that single piece of advice.

Yet, there was a specific reason she had urged the martial artists to attack late tonight.

If even one person slipped out of sight, wouldn't they potentially succumb to the temptation that followed—that is, betray them?

Setting aside the Jamlamdan, there wasn’t a martial artist alive who wouldn’t covet an elixir. Blinded by the prospect of an elixir, it wouldn't be strange for someone to do anything.

If just one person talked, they would all become known as scumbags who took elixirs meant for others.

Therefore, her intention was to gather everyone under the guise of an after-party, keep them under surveillance, and finish things off without giving them time to be swayed by temptation.

Cheon Yuhak clicked his tongue again.

“Still, these are wanderers you’ve never even met before today, and they’re of no particular help to you, are they? Why are you taking risks to help them?”

Ultimately, the ones who would be ruined were the wanderers who took the suspicious Jamlamdan, not Qing.

So naturally, he couldn't approve of his disciple sticking her neck out and risking danger just to protect the reputation of mere wanderers when it wasn't even her business.

Seeing the clear displeasure in Cheon Yuhak’s words, Qing tried to appease him gently.

“Aw, come on, you know me. I can always get away. Haven’t you seen my Wave-Treading Subtle Steps? Even my Master said no one could catch me if I really decided to run. Could even you catch me?”

“Hmph.”

Cheon Yuhak started to nag but stopped himself.

Because it was also true.

Somehow, the girl was so proficient in movement techniques that while catching her in a short-distance, decisive battle might be possible, in a long-distance contest of who could run farther for longer, she was already practically the Greatest Under Heaven.

And so, they partied late into the night, drinking heartily until the peak of the Hour of the Ox (around 2 AM), when the wanderers simultaneously expelled the alcohol fumes.

Expelling the influence of alcohol with internal energy was a skill any First-Rate martial artist could perform.

However, using it carelessly would earn you scolding—“Might as well not drink at all then!” Thus, it was a technique requiring careful observation and discretion.

With over twenty martial artists gathered, the simultaneous expulsion of alcohol fumes created a veritable fog of liquor vapor.

Finally returning to sobriety, the wanderers’ eyes once again glinted with killing intent.

It could be called the unique pre-battle mindset of wanderers who lived by selling their blades.

“Well then, shall we go?” Qing asked.

At that, Wang Nopil smoothly interjected.

“Young Lady Ximen. How can we just go like this? It’s tradition among us wanderers to hear a word before a fight to feel right. It would be great if you could give us a rousing word.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush…” Qing demurred.

But in truth, a pre-departure speech was a rather important ritual. It defined ‘us’ to strengthen solidarity and identified the ‘enemy’ to heighten fighting spirit.

Qing scratched the back of her neck, choosing her words carefully.

“Hm. The word ‘wanderer’ (낭인 / Nangin) comes from wandering alone like a wolf (낭 / Nang), right? But wolves are known among beasts for their outstanding loyalty, living in packs. Isn’t that just like us? Aren’t we the kind of people who repay even small sums of money with loyalty sealed in blood?”

She skillfully spun the fact that they sold their blades for paltry sums.

In truth, this was Qing’s real specialty.

A bewitching mouth! The jaws of hell!

“Ooh!”
“Well said!”
“That’s right!”

The wanderers responded with excited agreement.

“There’s a bastard over there looking down on us just because we’re wanderers, mere wanderers, pretending to do us a favor while trying to use us, right?” Qing continued. “Should we stand by and watch that happen? No, right? What should we do? We need to mess him up, wanderer style. Why? Because we are wanderers.”

“Because we are wanderers!” the crowd echoed.

“Loyalty, and the blade,” Qing declared. “Because that’s what a wanderer is.”

“Loyalty!”
“Blade!”
“Wanderer!”

Completely won over, the wanderers raised their voices.

They had never heard a speech so heart-stirring in their entire lives.

It was such enchanting rhetoric that it even made them feel proud of their past lives as wanderers.

Confirming their brimming fighting spirit, Qing hammered the final nail.

“Let’s go. Let’s carve the lesson that wanderers have their own loyalty with our blades.”

(T/N Sorry for posting the same chapter twice. As apologies I'll release some more, that I've finished editing)