Chapter 234: Wanderers Have Their Own Code of Honor

Then, Gyeongdamgan let out a strange laugh, one that almost sounded like a choked sob. Khuhuhuhu.

“But child? I heard something peculiar. They say you used the Black Slaying Demonic Palm? A virtuous lady of the Orthodox Faction has learned one of the Ten Great Demonic Arts under Heaven? Do those Orthodox bastards know about this?”

“Oh dear. Busted. I suppose once your hands are stained black, you just can’t hide it, right? Here. Look. This is the pitch-black hand of the Black Slaying Demonic Palm.”

Qing stretched out her long, slender, beautiful white hand.

Learning the Black Slaying Demonic Palm transforms one’s hands into hideous, blackened claws – hard, rough, and textured like tree bark.

So, by waggling her pretty fingers and showing them off so pointedly, Qing was essentially asking, Unless you're blind, do these look black to you?

“Khmm. Honestly, kids these days don't even have the basics down. You might as well have claimed to have learned the White Hand Demonic Arts.”

Even Gyeongdamgan found it nonsensical.

The idea that an Orthodox Faction heroine learned a wicked Demonic Art, especially one of the Ten Great Demonic Arts under Heaven that everyone in the martial arts world recognized, was pure bullshit from the start.

However, since several of his subordinates testified simultaneously, he couldn't ignore it and decided to probe, only to be thoroughly embarrassed.

“Ugh. The White Hand Demonic Arts are a bit…”

Qing flinched and hunched her shoulders slightly.

But Gyeongdamgan didn’t suspect her of knowing the White Hand Demonic Arts in the slightest.

After all, the White Hand Demonic Sect were major figures within the Blood Cult; if they had taken a disciple, Gyeongdamgan would surely know.

“In any case, just you wait. You will pay the price for your insolence.”

Always ‘just you wait.’

Qing snorted dismissively, then prepared to feign distress.

However, Gyeongdamgan simply retreated, letting out another guttural chuckle. Khuhuhuk.

What? That was anticlimactic.

With nothing better to do, Qing sat cross-legged and circulated her Internal Energy. At least she wasn't sprawled out flat on her back out of boredom; one could say she finally looked somewhat like a proper martial artist.

Hmm.

My training progress is really climbing at a snail’s pace.

Expecting significant gains after just half a day of Qi Breathing Technique showed how flawed her mindset was.

Truthfully, there was a reason Qing had been lazy about cultivating Internal Energy through breathing techniques.

Thanks to the combination of the Blissful Maiden Arts and the Heavenly Ice Sura Demonic Arts, Qing was in a state of automatic cultivation, performing the Qi Breathing Technique for twelve shichen (24 hours) a day – whether awake, asleep, eating, or shitting.

Come to think of it, the Blissful Maiden Arts had already reached 10 Stars, and the Heavenly Ice Sura Demonic Arts were at 11 Stars with the progress bar nearly full, meaning she was close to receiving the special ability granted at the 12-Star Great Completion stage.

It seemed the gap had widened considerably because the pursued Heavenly Ice Demonic Qi had been more diligent than the pursuing Bliss True Qi, and also due to the difference in required training points between Gold and Red-grade techniques.

Her Blood Demon King Divine Art and Purple Lightning Demonic Art had also risen two levels each, so aside from the side effects, the Blissful Maiden Arts had done quite a significant job.

Meanwhile, the Blood Cult martial artist assigned to daytime guard duty watched Qing meditating nonchalantly in the middle of the prison, utterly bewildered.

Normally, performing the Qi Breathing Technique was when a martial artist focused on their meridians, leaving them defenseless. Yet here was an Orthodox Faction martial artist, locked in a secret Blood Cult prison, practicing her Qi Breathing Technique.

She must be incredibly bold… no, less bold and more lacking fear, or perhaps just thoughtless. Or maybe she completely disregards us. It must be some or all of the above.

It was baffling, exasperating, and frankly, humiliating for a member of the Blood Cult, which struck fear into the heart of the Central Plains.

In truth, the position of prison guard was a privilege reserved for higher-ranking members.

Why? Because it was a position where one could torment the prisoners freely, as long as they didn't physically touch them directly.

The morning guard hadn't stomped on Qing's rice ball just because he was a horrible person.

It was because he could, and it was how things were done.

Other methods included verbal abuse, pissing on them, or poking them awake to disrupt their sleep – everyone had their own preferences.

Gyeongdamgan's intention was to mentally break down the prisoners, making them sick with despair.

However, the scene from the morning had been so shocking that this guard didn't particularly feel like provoking her.

Besides, simply watching the beauty's face as she sat quietly with her eyes closed made time fly.

Fuck, she really is fucking beautiful, he thought, swallowing repeatedly as he waited for the day she would be 'disposed of'. Eventually, his stomach growled.

It was time for the guard to take out his own lunch – a rice ball wrapped in bamboo leaves – and unwrap it.

Qing’s eyes snapped open.

Her diamond-shaped pupils, narrowed slightly, glinted intensely as they fixed fiercely onto the rice ball.

“Excuse me, Warrior-nim? What are the arrangements for my meal?”

The guard, who had just finished unwrapping the bamboo leaf and was about to take a large bite of the rice ball, scowled deeply.

Does she think she's checked into an inn or something?

“Lunch?” the guard asked.

“Yes? What do you mean? No matter how much you dislike someone, shouldn’t you at least let them eat?”

“Foolish girl,” the guard retorted. “Do you think we’d give even a single meal to an Orthodox Faction bastard? There will be no more meals, ever, so don’t bother asking such stupid questions.”

“No meals? What… But this morning-”

“That was something Senior Ju… I mean, that guard prepared privately. It was outside food. If you’re hungry, you should beg for our mercy. Maybe put on a cute act, kukuku.”

So, meals were entirely at the guards' discretion.

Qing understood this system filled with malice.

The guard continued, sneering.

“Are you hungry? Heh. How about putting that mouth of yours to work on this old man's cock, huh? If you do a good job, maybe I'll toss you a rice ball.”

“Haaa. Men.”

Qing sighed deeply.

Men were inherently pitiful creatures; in a system where they could do as they pleased as long as they didn’t physically touch the prisoner, how could they possibly resist?

Move aside, let me try something.

“I guess I have no choice. Could you come over here, please?”

“What? Really? This easily?”

The guard shot up from his seat, his hand quickly moving towards his belt. Then, suddenly, his gaze fell upon a red stain on the iron bar that vertically divided Qing’s cell.

A chill ran down his spine, instantly extinguishing the arousal that had been building.

“You… you damn bitch! Trying to lure me closer!” the guard yelled.

“Oh dear. You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?” Qing said with a sweet smile.

The guard’s knees weakened, and he plopped back down onto his chair.

“So, when do you plan on getting me my meal?” Qing asked. “For your reference, I tend to hold rather deep grudges when it comes to food. Let’s not create unnecessary resentment and just get along nicely, shall we?”

It was a threat: Give me food if you don’t want to die.

The guard hesitated, genuinely conflicted for a moment.

This is the wench who can wrap a person around iron bars.

Is it truly wise to earn her grudge over a mere meal? Wouldn't it be better to just give her the damn food and move on?

But the hesitation was brief.

What can a locked-up bitch do anyway?

Her defiant attitude won't last long. Under the Vice Lord’s methods, there hasn't been a single 'ingredient' that didn't end up crying and begging for mercy.

Especially if the ingredient is a woman. All you have to do is wait until she's ready for disposal.

“Stupid wench. You need to understand your place. Alright, how about you strip naked and dance a little? If I find the sight satisfactory, I might give you this much.”

The guard pinched off a piece of rice ball, the size of a fingertip joint, and held it up.

Qing sighed deeply again.

Why are all bad guys like this?

“Honestly, why won’t you listen when I speak nicely?” Qing asked. “Things could be resolved peacefully through conversation, but you insist on making things difficult.”

“Hmph. What can you do even if it’s difficult? A bitch behind bars talks too much…”

The guard suddenly stopped talking.

It wasn’t a ploy to annoy her; he was stunned speechless by the sight of the iron bars bending outward to the left and right like willow branches.

Qing had parted the iron bars as easily as splitting a bamboo curtain hanging in a shop entrance.

Steel is strong against pulling or pressing forces, but not nearly as resistant to bending.

And Qing's strength far surpassed what steel could withstand.

Qing immediately darted through the gap she’d created.

The guard scrambled to reach for his sword, but how wide could the corridor possibly be?

In an instant, Qing seized him by the neck. The guard choked, struggling futilely.

But only for a moment.

Once blood flow to the brain is cut off, the only difference between a master and a novice is how fiercely they resist before passing out.

This guard was First-Rate at best; he couldn't offer much resistance against an enemy who pinned him against the wall with enough force to embed him in it while squeezing his neck.

Finally, the guard went limp.

“Who do you think stays put because they don't know how to get out?” Qing grumbled. “I try to be nice, and you just provoke me. Honestly, some people are just asking for a beating.”

Qing grabbed the rice ball with one hand and munching on it, while dragging the unconscious guard back into the cell by his hair with the other.

She then stripped off the guard’s upper garment and tied his arms tightly behind his back. She took off his pants too and used them to gag him securely. After that, she approached the bent iron bars and grabbed hold of them.

Damn it, bending them was easy, but straightening them is a bit…

After struggling with the bars for a while, Qing managed to restore them until they looked almost untouched. She nodded in satisfaction.

Only then did she notice the pouch at the guard's waist contained five more bamboo-leaf-wrapped rice balls.

Well, if only six rice balls were his entire lunch, I guess I can see why he wouldn't want to share, Qing thought, then focused on enjoying her lunch first. Ohm nyom nyom.

But why is it just plain rice and salt, without any toppings? Is the Blood Cult having financial problems? What kind of person lives on just salted rice?

Still, the slightly sticky rice, fragrant with the scent of bamboo leaves and pleasantly salty, was quite edible.

After gobbling down all six large rice balls – the one the guard had taken out and the five he had stashed, equivalent to about three large bowls – Qing finally pressed her finger onto the guard's shoulder.

Her elegant, long white finger sank in without any resistance. Sssk.

It was an unnervingly natural intrusion, as if the man's shoulder bone were made of tofu.

For a moment, Qing’s expression turned hazy.

Wow… this feels so good. It’s insane.

However, the guard whose shoulder had just been pierced didn't seem to share the sentiment.

His eyes flew open, and he began to squirm.

“Mmph. Mmmph.”

Gagged tightly with an entire pair of pants, his screams were barely audible.

“Shh. Quiet now,” Qing said. “See? It would have been better if you’d just given me the food when I asked nicely. Why did you have to make things so troublesome?”

“Mmph-ooh, mmm-mmm.”

“Now. I’m going to remove the gag, but if you scream, you die right here, understand? If people come running, do you really think they’ll come in here to save you, or will they just wring their hands outside and watch you die horribly? Nod if you understand.”

The guard nodded vigorously.

Having witnessed the morning's events, he knew perfectly well that shouting for his colleagues would be useless.

He himself had been one of those useless colleagues.

“Hmm. Anyway, I got my meal, so I’ll consider the grudge over the food settled,” Qing continued. “However, you still have to pay the price for troubling me, right? Choose the one you hold most dear: right arm, left arm, or neck. I'll tear off the ones you value less.”

It was a horrifying threat.

It ultimately meant she would tear off both his arms.

“I, I was wrong. Please forgive me…” the guard pleaded.

“Oh? So polite all of a sudden?” Qing remarked. “I’m glad we seem to be on the same wavelength. There’s exactly one way for you to leave here with all your limbs intact. Want to hear it?”

“Yes, yes! Please tell me!” the guard cried.

“If you tell me everything you know, without lying, I won’t touch a hair on your head… ah, sorry about the shoulder. That’s excluded since I already touched it. Anyway, if you tell me everything honestly, you can walk out of here whole.”

“Everything… you mean…”

Qing offered a bright, refreshing smile.

“Everything. What this place is, who you all are, your colleagues’ martial arts, what you do here, things about the Blood Cult… everything you know.”