Chapter 275: Heading to Shaolin

Qing stood still, blinking slowly. Once, twice.

Huh. Am I not going to space this time? Hmm? Space? Why space? Have I ever been to space? What is this? It feels like I’m on the verge of remembering something.

But no, I shouldn't remember.

If I do, I’ll cross some irreversible threshold. I have a bad feeling about it. No, not a feeling—a certainty.

And yet, somehow, she couldn’t stop thinking.

As if someone was forcibly guiding her thoughts—

“Ooh! Did you perceive the insight! Yes! It must be the ninth form! The ninth form, right!?”

“Huk.”

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed as strong hands gripped both her forearms, forcibly snapping Qing out of her thoughts.

“Ugh, ack.”

Qing’s lovely face crumpled instantly.

For someone blessed with such a heavenly face, she certainly used it carelessly.

“What? What’s wrong!”

“Venerable Monk Muhak, my arm, my arm…!”

“Your arm? It looks perfectly fine. Forget about that, what about the insight? It was the ninth form, wasn’t it?”

“Ack! My ar-arm!”

Qing’s right arm began to convulse violently.

It was no wonder.

She had supported the weight of the entire world with that one arm.

Even if it happened within a mental landscape, the memory remained vivid, exerting its influence.

From the rotator cuff of her shoulder, through the deltoid, biceps, and triceps, down past the… no, the brachioradialis and iliopsoas, the deep muscles beneath, and all the tendons in her fingers—everything was overloaded simultaneously.

In other words, one could say she had a cramp running from her shoulder to her fingertips all at once.

“Aigoo, what is happening here?”

Venerable Monk Muhak prodded Qing’s right arm firmly before quickly pressing her acupoints. His intention was to cut off the power flowing to the arm entirely and paralyze it for the moment.

“Ack! Ack!”

“Huh? Why aren’t the acupoints responding? And wouldn’t you lower your Protective Body Aura? I’m not trying to harm you.”

“Augh, it’s, automatic. I. Gwaaah.”

The state of Qing’s Protective Body Aura!?

Now that it had evolved into a proper Protective Body Aura matching her realm, when Muhak jabbed his fingers, the powerful aura within fiercely resisted, mounting a desperate defense against the Greatest Under Heaven.

In truth, it was futile since the targeted acupoints were already deadened, meaning both Muhak and the Protective Body Aura were engaged in a completely useless endeavor.

“What? She’s already trained her Protective Body Aura to deploy unconsciously? What secret method did Surin use! Truly, she had a talent for raising disciples!”

Shit, it hurts like hell!

While one person was drooling from hellish pain, snot bubbling from her nose, the other was standing beside her, lost in admiration.

No wonder Master called him a damn monk!

This was the second time her crotch felt like it was tearing from trying to follow the Celestial Martial Emperor, and the third time if you included her first encounter at the Absolute Sword Wall.

Back during the Myriad Transformations experience, her realm had been pathetic—merely Peak Realm, barely capable of seeing, feeling, or experiencing anything. Compared to the Celestial Martial Emperor, she was like an insect, so the impact wasn't severe.

But now, having reached the Transcendent Realm, she could faintly comprehend the mental landscape, and the backlash struck.

So, Qing sniffled, trying to keep back the drool and snot.

Still, it wasn’t painful enough to make her cry, which might or might not be considered fortunate.

After that, her lovely hand—naturally, the most wicked and beautiful hand in the world—had vanished, replaced by something swollen to twice its size, resembling a pig’s foot.

It looked as if it had gained an inch of flesh in every direction—front, back, left, and right.

Hidden by her sleeve, she could tell her entire right arm, from the shoulder down, must be in the same state. The dull, throbbing pain confirmed it instantly.

Seeing this, Muhak asked.

“So, what was the Shaolin form like? And, of course, it was the ninth form, right?”

“Could... could you maybe pretend to be even slightly concerned about my arm...? Uh...”

Suddenly, something shot into her mouth, struck the roof hard, and landed deep on the back of her tongue.

It’s human instinct to swallow anything that lands deep on the tongue without thinking, and Qing did just that.

“It’s a Lesser Restoration Pill. Just some leftovers roughly lumped together after making Sohwan Dan. Now. So. How was it?” Muhak prompted.

“I wasn’t trying to guilt-trip you. And um, it wasn’t the ninth form…”

“It wasn’t the ninth form…”

Venerable Monk Muhak’s shoulders slumped.

He’d acted nonchalant, but apparently, he had been quite invested.

“It was the first form of Dugu Jiujian, a sword strike called Peerless Self.”

At that, Muhak pondered deeply.

“Yes, perhaps the first form is better. All studies under heaven originated from Shaolin, so the first form must be the most fundamental. Anyway, Peerless Self. Can you interpret it?”

“Um. If I just describe what I saw…”

Qing described the contents of the vision.

Muhak slapped his own forehead with his palm. Tak! A crisp sound echoed.

In truth, this could be called a time-honored Shaolin tradition passed down from the one-armed Master Huike.

“The cliff came to you and was cut by itself. Stillness connects with Motion. Indeed. Indeed.”

“Uh, honestly, doesn’t that make no sense? You believe it right away?” Qing asked.

Venerable Monk Muhak smiled gently.

“When you swing your sword and cut down an enemy, think of yourself not as a person, but as the sword. Did the sword move itself to cut the enemy? No. From the sword’s perspective, wouldn’t it feel as though the enemy approached and offered itself to the blade?”

If Qing had been from a STEM background, she might have found this conversation quite fascinating.

Indeed, even back in Qing’s homeland, there were those who argued that a moving object colliding with something and a stationary object being struck were indistinguishable.

Professionally, these people included physicists, insurance investigators, self-harm scammers, and those insect-like bastards who try to tow your vehicle.

“But I’m not a sword,” Qing pointed out.

“Have you not already experienced Sword Body Unification?” Muhak countered. “A weapon is an extension of the body, so it’s not wrong to say it is like the body itself.”

This was precisely why martial arts were difficult.

They increasingly touched upon philosophy, metaphysics, or certain ideologies, becoming so convoluted that mere verbal explanations were impossible to grasp.

Unless one figured it out and firmly established it for oneself, one could never understand—which is why it was called enlightenment.

“Hmm…” Qing murmured.

“Anyway, to think Non-self and Self are indistinguishable. Erasing the self from the world makes it Non-self, thus erasing the world leaves only the self, existing alone—Peerless Self.”

Venerable Monk Muhak’s expression was peculiar.

It was the look of someone whose nose tickled as if about to sneeze, yet the sneeze wouldn't quite come out.

“Aigoo. I must meditate to understand. My heart yearns to see you off, but I fear losing this thread of insight when it’s grasped. This old monk must depart first.”

“Well, can’t be helped then. Go on ahead,” Qing said.

“Thank you for understanding. Well then.”

And as if in a great hurry, Muhak leaped, soaring over three zhang(≈10m/33ft) in a single bound, kicked off the cliff face, then bounced off the steep walls of the gorge—left, right, left, right—ascending higher and higher until he disappeared.

After he left, Qing was alone before the Absolute Sword Wall.

The effect of the Lesser Restoration Pill she’d just taken spread refreshingly through her body, while the throbbing pain in her swollen right arm gradually intensified.

But such things were unimportant.

She stood before the great insight left by the Celestial Martial Emperor.

Qing realized the most crucial fact.

She was, she was hungry…

Growl!

<Support the translation on Celestial Pavilion>

Qing’s stomach answered with a mighty roar.

Ximen Surin called the Shaolin monks "damn monks."

Of course, Shaolin was already more clearly a martial arts sect than a temple.

Moreover, forget a secluded mountain temple—Dengfeng County, nestled at the foot of Mount Song, had developed its streets right up to the main gate of Shaolin Temple itself.

So, just beyond the temple wall lay a tourist district filled with all sorts of teahouses, restaurants, and high-end inns for pilgrims and visitors.

Of course, Ximen Surin didn't call them damn monks for these reasons—it was simply because they were nasty bald bastards who barred women from entering.

In any case, it meant Qing didn’t need to embark on a 30,000-li journey clutching her starving stomach in search of food.

She didn’t even need to ponder what to eat.

Qing’s intellect could generally be described as low-level, but there were rare moments when it became exceptional.

Putting aside the fact that her intelligence soared in front of enemies due to the influence of the Heavenly Slaughtering Star, when it came to food, her mind spun rapidly, and she rarely forgot anything she heard.

Thus, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall! It had to be Buddha Jumps Over the Wall!

The name meant that the dish was so delicious even a Buddha (monk) would secretly jump over the wall to eat it.

Originally a dish from Fuzhou, the capital of Fujian Province, it was sold near famous temples everywhere, yet it was an extremely high-class dish, so expensive that not just anyone could afford it.

From the start, none of the ingredients were cheap; it was essentially a concoction of delicious and pricey foodstuffs thrown together, drowned in Shaoxing wine, and simmered thoroughly. How could it possibly not taste good?

So, which place would make it best?

Like a solitary gourmand, Qing wandered the streets of Dengfeng.

Since the ingredients determined the taste of this top-tier dish, one couldn't properly savor it at a mediocre restaurant.

First, she bought a meat dumpling from a street vendor to soothe her hungry stomach while she searched. Apparently, rumors spread through Dengfeng County that a celestial fairy had descended.

Thus, drawing all sorts of attention, Qing wandered around until she spotted an unexpected figure.

It was Seol Iri, who had spitefully ditched her to eat meat alone.

She looked rather pathetic, too.

Standing on the side of the road, she was glaring intensely at something. Following her gaze, Qing saw it led to a street stall selling wonton noodles.

What’s this? Why is she glaring? Is it, like, a really delicious place? A famous eatery?

However, business seemed slow for such a place; despite the vendor earnestly hawking his wonton noodles, no one seemed to be buying.

Then what? Someone she knows?

Qing became curious and asked.

“Young Lady Seol. What are you doing?”

“You.”

“Why are you staring like your eyes are about to pop out?” Qing asked. “Do you know them? Or is the food delicious?”

At that, Seol Iri’s lips trembled. She clenched and unclenched her fists, hesitating for a long time before finally answering in a voice barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz.

“I don’t have any money…”

The Ice Palace wasn't particularly wealthy; just surviving the freeze in a land of only ice was considered impressive. Nothing grew there.

At least while staying at the Murim Alliance, she got lodging, food, and occasional pocket money. Besides, there wasn’t much for a woman to spend money on anyway.

Whatever pocket money she received was spent on necessary feminine expenditures, leaving nothing left over.

In this situation, having declared she would track down a criminal and recklessly followed Qing, she had been struck by the harsh reality of poverty.

Seol Iri was penniless.

Qing was dumbfounded.

“Seriously?” Qing exclaimed. “You bragged so confidently about going to eat meat, rubbing it in my face, and you left without any money? What kind of meat were you planning to eat? Wait, Young Lady Seol, where are you going?”

“Hunting.”

Still laconic, it was unclear whether she meant she would hunt her own meat since she had no money, or if she intended to earn money for food by hunting.

But one thing was certain.

“You’re going to hunt on a mountain where a major temple is located?” Qing asked incredulously. “Right in Shaolin Temple’s front yard?”

At that, Seol Iri’s body froze stiff.

“I can’t?”

“Of course, you can’t,” Qing stated flatly.

Seol Iri’s shoulders slumped slightly.

Seeing that, Qing tilted her head.

What’s with her? Is she completely clueless?

To be called clueless by Qing—if knowledgeable people like Seol Ganom or Zhuge Ihyeon, who knew Qing, heard this, they would probably feel such shame they’d rather bite their tongues and die.

Then again, if they actually bit their tongues, they wouldn't die from that, so Qing would likely just curse them as idiots deserving of being called clueless by her.

(T/N)
With the rate of releases, 3 a day, (00:00, 08:00, 16:00 AEST), I'm realizing that I need to translate at least 4 chapters a day every day in order to build a backlog. Starting from now, I'll be releasing two chapters a day, at (11 AM AEST and 11 PM AEST).

This change serves two purposes. First, it gives me more breathing room to maintain quality without constantly scrambling to keep up. Second, these new times are optimized for readers in the U.S., where most of the audience is based. By syncing with U.S. morning and evening peak hours, updates should now hit when most people are free to read.

Note: I’m usually asleep at 11:00 PM AEST, so the second release may not appear on Novel Updates until the next morning — around 5:00 AM AEST. But don’t worry, it’ll be there.

Thanks for reading and for sticking with me — hopefully this new schedule makes things easier for both of us!