Chapter 109: The Villainess Eats Malatang

It's just human nature, isn't it? To praise beautiful things, exalt them, become endlessly generous in their presence.

Just look back at history—remember Yang Guifei [^(Famous consort of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, often blamed for the An Lushan Rebellion)], indulging her whims, playing the villain, wreaking havoc, and practically driving the country into the ground until rebellion broke out?

Even then, An Lushan [^(The general who led the rebellion)], the rebel leader himself, couldn't bring himself to execute the Emperor. Instead, he merely advised His Majesty to get rid of "that smelly woman."

(Apparently, Yang Guifei was also infamous for having the worst body odor in the empire.)

But the Emperor, who supposedly couldn't smell a thing due to chronic sinusitis, just shouted back something like, "If she's the most beautiful woman under heaven, she's allowed to ruin the country a little! Why are you trying to crush my lovely Guifei's spirits?"

The very phrase "a beauty that can topple nations" implied that true beauty could forgive almost any transgression, even shaking an entire empire to its foundations.

Therefore, one could argue that being instinctively generous and forgiving towards beautiful women is simply a defining characteristic of true men.

(And by the way, if any male friend vehemently denies this principle, you should probably watch your back around him.)

And Qing, despite everything, was inevitably such a 'manly man' at heart.

Hmm. Now that I think about it, she reconsidered, watching the two women enter the restaurant, maybe it's just some kind of fancy company dinner with an important guest? Possible, right?

Qing vaguely equated the Five Great Families to modern chaebol [^(Large, family-owned South Korean business conglomerates)], so maybe a meeting between powerful clans would take place at a famous restaurant.

Just then, Jayu quietly posed a question beside her.

“Don’t women usually feel jealousy when they encounter another woman more beautiful than themselves?”

“Hey now,” Qing retorted, giving him side-eye. “Isn’t that a bit of a tired stereotype? Besides, why are you looking pointedly at me when you ask that? How the hell would I know anything about it?”

“…?”

Jayu was rendered speechless.

If you want to ask about women’s affairs, you should probably ask a woman. Asking a man will just lead to both parties wildly speculating based on imagination…

Then, just as abruptly, he adopted a polite, formal tone. “I misspoke earlier. I offer my sincerest apologies. Please do not take my careless words to heart.”

He was bowing slightly, the picture of remorsefulness.

But Qing saw right through it. In truth, the trope of the mysterious veiled beauty was pure fantasy in the Central Plains.

A woman’s beauty was considered a virtue meant to be displayed proudly, not hidden away.

If a woman did cover her face, there was always a reason.

The common understanding regarding veiled women was simple: their facial features were likely so uniquely… striking… that covering them was actually an act of consideration, sparing ordinary people the shock.

That was the Central Plains’ consensus on veiled women.

In other words, Jayu’s overly polite apology actually meant:

“Sorry for implicitly pointing out that you’re probably ugly.”

That was the subtext of his apology.

“Your speech,” Qing snapped, cutting off his formal tone mid-bow.

“Ah. That was intentional,” Jayu admitted smoothly, straightening up. “It was meant to convey the depth of my sincerity.”

“Oh, really?” Qing raised an eyebrow. “Then, if you’re that sorry, how about you treat me to dinner to make up for it? Surely there are other delicious things in Chengdu besides malatang, right?”

“An excellent suggestion,” Jayu agreed readily. “Actually, while the Ultimate Malatang holds its title, it is, at its core, still just malatang. It lacks… foundation.”

Malatang’s origins lay in maocai, a humble street food for the lowest classes.

About half the population of Sichuan didn't even consider malatang proper 'cuisine,' just a simple 'meal.'

(The Ultimate Malatang at Changryong’s was generally considered the exception, of course).

Still, the common sentiment was regret that the Greatest Chef Under Heaven wasted his prodigious talents fiddling with malatang when he could be creating far more exquisite dishes.

“Today, my friend,” Jayu declared with a confident smile, “you will thoroughly understand precisely why Sichuan cuisine is considered synonymous with the greatest under heaven.”

“Alright! Sounds good!” Qing grinned back. “Today’s the day I eat until I burst! Just so you know, though, I eat a lot. Like, seriously, a massive amount. If you start feeling overwhelmed and think you can’t keep up, feel free to declare defeat and request that I stop eating. You might need to show some genuine, teary-eyed pleading, though.”

“There is truly no need to worry about me,” Jayu replied serenely.

Qing flashed him another grin under the veil, then frowned slightly, looking back at the restaurant entrance.

“By the way, is it normal for the main guests to just waltz in first like that? Some kind of special Sichuan-style hospitality I don’t know about?”

“How could that be?” Jayu sounded surprised. “The more esteemed the guest, the more meticulously preparations should be made, with the entire host family present to escort them in respectfully.”

“So… Female Xiang Ji isn’t actually that esteemed a guest then?”

“That possibility is nonexistent.”

“Then why?”

Qing pointed towards the restaurant.

The two women had indeed slipped inside quickly, but the coachmen and various other attendants were now standing guard stiffly outside the entrance.

The large ‘Tang’ character emblazoned across their martial uniforms looked incredibly tacky.

“You said they rented out the whole place,” Qing continued, confused. “I figured it was for some big family dinner outing or something.”

“My friend,” Jayu chuckled softly, “you possess a surprisingly naive streak at times, don’t you? Obviously, they rented out the entire establishment because the two of them wished to dine alone, in complete privacy.”

“What?!”

Qing stopped dead in her tracks, whirling around to face Jayu.

“They kicked out all those other customers… just so two people could eat alone?!” Her voice rose incredulously.

What kind of world-class, entitled, asshole behavior is that?! What kind of ill-mannered, haven’t-been-taught-any-better bullshit is that?!

She paused, visibly assessing the situation.

That’s right.

Qing always assessed the situation first.

She wasn't some brainless chicken fighter rushing into things recklessly. Okay, maybe she occasionally displayed symptoms suggesting severe anger management issues… but that was clearly just unavoidable brain damage caused by the Heavenly Slaughtering Star and absorbing miscellaneous Demonic Arts, right? Totally not her fault.

Even back in Luoyang, when dealing with that Black Whatever Sect, hadn’t she pragmatically admitted defeat like a true man and retreated when necessary?

Fundamentally, Qing was a cowardly bully who followed the principle of “strong against the weak, weak against the strong.” A timid scaredy-cat who never initiated a confrontation unless she was absolutely certain she could win.

And so, assessing the current variables… she quickly reached a conclusion.

Qing spun on her heel and started marching purposefully back towards the restaurant entrance.

“Friend, where are you— No, wait! What is this strength—?!”

Jayu yelped, unable to grab her arm in time, managing only to latch onto her sleeve. He ended up being dragged along helplessly like a kite tail.

This was partly because Qing’s raw physical strength now surpassed even the legendary Xiang Yu[^remember back in chapter 106? Xiang Yu was a legendary warlord known for strength and tragic downfall. Female Xiang Yu is Peng Choryeo title.] in his prime, and partly because Jayu, possessing no martial arts whatsoever, was likely among the physically weakest men currently present.

“Halt! What business do you have?” A Tang Clan warrior immediately stepped forward, blocking Qing’s path.

Qing eyed him up and down.

The uniform looked expensive, sure, but the large, circular green ‘Tang’ character emblazoned smack in the middle of his chest and stomach was just… incredibly tacky.

Did they put one on the back too? Does it spell out ‘Tang Tang’?

Even the most obnoxious university logo jackets weren’t this blatantly oversized.

Qing took a deep, deliberate breath.

And then she screamed, the sound pitching into an ear-splitting shriek.

“ISN’T THIS! SERIOUSLY! GOING! TOO FARRRRRRR!!!”

The area was already crowded with onlookers.

The ‘cancelled ones,’ who had only pretended to disperse, had merely shifted their density, still lingering nearby hoping for a glimpse of the infamous Poisonous Speaking Flower.

Add to that the considerable crowd that had followed the magnificent carriage just out of curiosity… while maybe not reaching the legendary numbers drawn by the Jade Qilin, it was easily a third of that size.

And now, a woman was unleashing a shrill, piercing scream that cut through the buzz of the crowd.

People who had seen the beauties emerge and were just about to turn back to their own business—muttering things like, “Wow! Her beauty is really out of this world!”—

Immediately snapped their heads back towards Qing, naturally rewinding their steps to see what the commotion was about now.

“Does being from the prestigious Tang Clan mean you can just cancel paying customers’ reservations whenever you feel like it?!” Qing shrieked, tears already welling up (quite convincingly). “I waited forty-five days for this moment! Forty-five! And just because one young lady decides to show up, we’re told to just piss off?! Where are we supposed to piss off to?! Should we just sink into the ground?! Why don’t you just hand us shovels and tell us to dig our own graves right here?!”

“You wench, how dare y—” the guard started, stepping forward menacingly.

“HOW DARE I?! HOW DARE I?!” Qing screeched, cutting him off. “Yeah, okay! That’s your stance, isn’t it?! That you, the great and noble people of the Sichuan Tang Clan, are SO high and mighty that lowly, worthless worms like us shouldn’t DARE! Shouldn’t DARE!!! To utter a single word of complaint, no matter what bullshit you pull?! Oh my god! Hey, neighbors! Everyone! Look here! Listen to what this fine gentleman is saying!! Bow down, everyone! The oh-so-noble Tang Clan ROYALTY has graced us with their presence!!!”

Qing screamed it all at the absolute top of her lungs, ensuring every single person within a two-block radius could hear her clearly.

“L-Lower your voice,” the guard hissed, starting to look genuinely panicked now.

“My poor Gramps…” Qing suddenly wailed, clutching at Choi Leeong dramatically, “his dying wish… was just to taste that one bowl of malatang… the kind he barely managed to eat once, back when times were really tough in his youth, saving up penny by penny… I finally managed to get a reservation… I brought him all this way… but now…”

Choi Leeong’s expression flickered with subtle discomfort.

Having walked the path of a high-ranking leader in the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult his entire life, Choi Leeong had never experienced a single day of genuine poverty.

“GRAMPS!! I’M SO SORRY!!” Qing sobbed, clinging to him. “I’m so sorry I’m such a worthless worm with no background and no skills!! What could I possibly do?! The Tang Clan’s precious young lady is apparently tired of her usual fancy food and simply must experience commoner cuisine right this instant!!”

The crowd, initially just curious onlookers, began to murmur amongst themselves, the tone turning increasingly ominous.

Among those living in Sichuan, especially in Chengdu, who hadn’t experienced the Tang Clan’s arrogant tyranny at least once?

Even insignificant warriors from minor branch families acted like untouchable lords the moment they put on a uniform bearing that ‘Tang’ character.

“Ah! What blasphemy have I uttered!” Qing suddenly gasped, slapping her own cheeks lightly. “Oh, noble warrior! Forgive this madwoman! I dared to speak against the Great Tang Clan! The Greatest Under Heaven! The Imperial Lords Themselves! Everyone knows that in Sichuan, the Tang Clan is the Imperial Family! They are the law! Please, you mustn’t doubt my absolute loyalty! Long live the Tang Clan! Long live! No, wait—since there is clearly a Heaven above Heaven, then the Tang Clan must undoubtedly be above the Emperor himself! Long live the Tang Clan for ten thousand years! No, wait, for eighteen thousand years!! Motherf— I mean, EIGHTEEN THOUSAND YEARS!!!” [^(The number 18, ship-pal in Korean, sounds very similar to a common curse word, ssi-bal.)]

The Tang Clan warrior’s face went deathly pale.

In reality, the Tang Clan’s influence and power within Chengdu had long surpassed that of the official royal family presence.

Although the established Royal Prefecture of a Grand Prince technically owned most of the land around Chengdu, they were effectively powerless, completely overshadowed by the Tang Clan.

In fact, it was practically an open secret that the Tang Clan members privately sneered amongst themselves,

“No! Numbers are meaningless!” Qing continued her manic display of mock loyalty. “How can mere numbers possibly express the infinite greatness of the Tang Clan! Please, accept this humble one’s absolute devotion! A Generation of Tang! Another Generation of Tang! The Tang Tang Generation Forever!”

However, an ‘open secret’ also implies an unwritten rule: you don’t actually say it out loud in public.

Especially since, among the onlookers, there were quite a few individuals wearing particularly tacky official uniforms emblazoned with single characters like Byeong, Yong, Jol, A, Yeok, Po, Noe, Se, Go, Yeom, or Joong [^(These likely represent ranks or affiliations of low-level government functionaries or guards)]. They were government officials, drawing salaries from the authorities the Tang Clan implicitly challenged.

The topic of tonight's gossip amongst the city's bureaucrats was being decided right here, right now.

“That— uh— please, just shut u—” the guard stammered, desperately trying to regain control.

“AH! ‘Shut up,’ you say?!” Qing shrieked again, somehow finding even more volume. “Are you implying that this lowly being, less bright than a flickering firefly beneath the radiant sun that is the Great Sichuan Tang Clan, still lacks sufficient volume in her praise?!!! LONG LIVE THE TANG CLAN!!!!! FOR EIGHTEEN THOUSAND YEARS!!!! LONG LIVE THE TANG CLAN!!! KYAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

Qing’s lung capacity, trained extensively by playing the Bokshinjeok flute, was already superior even among martial arts masters.

Her voice was now so piercingly loud that, with only slight exaggeration, it felt like the surrounding buildings were trembling and the very earth was vibrating in sympathy.

“No, just—”

Finally deciding this couldn't continue, the Tang Clan warrior reached out towards Qing.

He had to at least physically restrain her, drag her away. She was clearly making a scene intentionally, and letting it escalate further was unthinkable.

It wasn't necessarily the wrong judgment call.

The problem was, this was precisely the moment Qing had been waiting for, aiming for all along.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

The instant his hand brushed her sleeve, Qing flew backward as if struck by a charging cataphract [^(Heavily armored cavalry)].

She even bounced twice off the hard ground, rolled dramatically, and finally sprawled out, limbs askew, looking for all the world like she’d just taken a devastating internal energy blow from an peerless master.

Then she curled up on the ground, trembling violently like a seriously ill patient on the verge of death.

While rolling, she’d covertly flicked a small pebble, hitting Choi Leeong squarely. He caught the signal instantly and rushed towards her, his face a mask of anguish.

“Oh my! Child! Child! Come to your senses!” he roared, his voice filled with seemingly genuine despair. “How can such lawlessness exist in this world?! This fragile child, barely twenty years old!! What mortal sin has she committed merely by raising her voice?! Is there truly such a lack of justice under heaven?! How can this possibly be the behavior of a prestigious Orthodox Sect?!”

While Choi Leeong’s Internal Energy cultivation was barely First-Rate, his level of enlightenment had already touched the Unrestrained Realm.

At that level, one could freely employ the subtleties of the Lion’s Roar technique—the kind often stereotyped by a booming “YOU DARE!!!”—so the old man’s sorrowful, heartbroken voice resonated with tremendous power throughout the plaza.

A fragile child of twenty.

The fathers in the crowd were visibly moved. Uneasy whispers spread rapidly:

Isn't this too much, even for the Tang Clan?

They've always worked sneakily behind the scenes, but now they're resorting to open tyranny?

We must warn our own children sternly… etc.

Watching this entire spectacle unfold, Jayu slowly shook his head, a look of mingled awe and disbelief on his face.

Rather than drawing a sword and fighting directly, she chooses to incite a crowd, gather public opinion, and blatantly drag her opponent's reputation through the mud? Shamelessly playing the victim after provoking the entire incident?

There has truly never been such a vicious person in this world.