Chapter 110: The Villainess Eats Malatang

The situation had clearly escalated beyond the point where an individual Tang Clan guard could handle it.

Naturally, someone higher up had to step in.

Qing watched as a man hurried onto the scene, his footwork so low and swift it almost looked like he was rolling across the ground.

Truth be told, Qing was starting to feel like she’d had her fun anyway.

Say what you will, but these Sichuan Tang Clan martial artists weren't inherently evil people.

They’d acted like arrogant, entitled assholes indulging in some serious power tripping, and they’d suffered significant public humiliation as a result. Surely, Qing reasoned, they’d at least pretend to be more restrained in the future?

Even back in her world, when major power abuse scandals broke, the culprits usually feigned self-reflection for a while.

So, if they offered a polite apology at this point, Qing was magnanimously prepared to forgive them like the bigger person she clearly was.

However… the Tang Clan had effectively reigned as the uncrowned kings of Sichuan since the era of the Celestial Martial Emperor.

When your nose is perpetually tilted towards the sky, you can’t see the ground beneath your feet, no matter how hard you try to look down.

The man who appeared—clearly the higher-up—didn't offer an apology. Instead, he swiftly tossed something towards Qing.

Thud. A heavy object landed right in front of where she lay dramatically sprawled.

It was a solid ingot of pure gold, a whole gwan worth [^(A gwan was a traditional East Asian unit of weight, roughly 3.75 kg or 8.27 lbs – a substantial amount of gold.)].

“The commotion ends here,” the man declared coolly. “That should be sufficient compensation for any grievance you may feel.”

Qing’s eyes fixed on the gleaming yellow metal.

Well, I’ve already humiliated them thoroughly, she thought, reconsidering. Maybe this counts as grabbing some practical benefits on top of the moral victory?

Still lying on the ground, she slowly, almost slyly, reached out and picked up the heavy gold ingot.

Gold is inherently dense.

As the satisfying weight settled into her arms, Qing felt her lingering anger begin to melt away like snow in spring.

Yep. Definitely proved the old adage: one solid ingot of pure gold conveys sincerity far better than a hundred empty apologies.

So, the incident really should have ended right there.

If only the man hadn't opened his mouth again.

“Just look at that display!” he announced loudly to the crowd. “In the end, it was all just a despicable ploy to extort money! The Tang Clan, despite suffering this public humiliation, has still magnanimously bestowed gold! So tell me, who is truly the wronged party in this affair?”

It was a calculated move, designed to sway public opinion back in the Tang Clan’s favor.

He’d skillfully reframed Qing from an unfairly treated victim into a shameless scammer pulling a self-harm extortion racket.

Naturally, Qing felt wronged all over again.

Okay, maybe the self-harm extortion part is kinda true, she admitted internally, but I wasn't actually aiming for gold!

But she also knew how people thought—envy ran deep (as the saying goes, your stomach aches even if it’s just your cousin buying land).

Seeing her walk away with a whole gwan of gold just for causing a ruckus? The onlookers' gazes instantly turned cold and judgmental.

“Consider yourself extremely lucky,” the Tang man continued, now addressing Qing directly with a stern warning. “It is only because an esteemed guest is present tonight that we are choosing to avoid bloodshed. Were that not the case, you would already be melting into a puddle of poisonous water. Go home, and offer thanks to your ancestors for your fortune.”

He made sure to add the threat.

Show any weakness, and there was no guarantee a second, or third, imitator wouldn’t appear trying the same stunt.

From his perspective, the man’s handling of the situation was actually quite clean and effective.

He’d discredited the victim, painted the Tang Clan as generous despite being wronged, and issued a clear warning to deter future incidents.

The only tiny problem? He had just thoroughly pissed off That Person again.

As the ‘even greater’ Sun Tzu might have said (or maybe should have), "If you don't understand your opponent, even the most brilliant strategy can turn into a moronic disaster." [^(Possibly a joking misattribution to Sun Tzu, author of The Art of War.)]

Fucking hell, these assholes! Qing raged internally. I was actually going to let it go nicely, and now they pull this shit? Seriously crossing the line!

She subtly poked Choi Leeong’s side, hard.

A voice dripping with icy anger suddenly stopped the Tang man as he was turning to leave.

“Melt into a puddle of poisonous water, you say?” Choi Leeong’s voice was low, dangerous. “Very well. Why don’t you try it? A member of one of the esteemed Five Great Families, part of the prestigious Orthodox Faction, acting so shamelessly under the eyes of heaven? Is this the way of the Tang Clan?”

The man froze mid-step.

“Look here, old man,” he retorted, turning back slowly. “Your bravado is admirable, but you should really consider the time and place. How dare you act so belligerently, here in the heart of Chengdu…”

“If even a mere low-ranking grunt like you is this arrogant,” Choi Leeong cut him off contemptuously, “then I can well imagine what the rest of you Tang bastards are like without even needing to see them.”

Things had escalated. This was now clearly an invitation to fight.

The Tang man understood the implication perfectly. His eyes hardened.

“I tried to resolve this peacefully, but it seems that won’t work. Some fools only understand reason after tasting blood…”

He never finished the sentence.

Because Choi Leeong had slowly raised his hand, palm upward. Floating just above his palm, coalescing out of seemingly nothing, was a swirling sphere of pure, condensed starlight.

It was a peerless skill, the kind every martial artist dreamed of mastering.

Its name: Energy Compression—forming a tangible Energy Aura or Sphere.

Of course, while visually spectacular, it wasn't impossibly rare.

Any master who had reached the Unrestrained Realm could theoretically manage it.

Only then did Qing reach out, making a show of trying to stop Choi Leeong.

“Gramps, stop! That’s going too far! Are you planning to massacre everyone here?”

“Then should I simply ignore such insolent words?” Choi Leeong growled, still glaring at the Tang man.

“But killing them all just seems… too pitiful, don't you think?” Qing countered, sounding reasonable.

With a dramatic huff, Choi Leeong slowly withdrew the swirling sphere of light.

“Hmph. Hmph. With such a soft heart… How do you expect to survive in the cruel martial world? Hmph. You,” he snapped at the Tang man, “consider yourself extremely lucky today.”

(In reality, even forming that Energy Sphere was a bluff. Choi Leeong’s internal energy reserves were barely clinging to the First-Rate Realm. He likely only had enough juice for that one impressive display, with nothing left afterward.)

The Tang man’s face was now utterly devoid of color, pale as bleached bone.

He hadn't paid close attention before, his own arrogance blinding him. But now, seeing the undeniable depth and inner light shining within the old man’s eyes, he realized his mistake. This wasn't just some random old man; this was undoubtedly a great elder from a major Buddhist or Daoist sect.

“I-I didn’t realize I was in the presence of such an esteemed senior…” he stammered, bowing hastily.

“Yeah, yeah, forget that,” Qing cut in impatiently, getting back to the point. “I’m just dying to know exactly how high-and-mighty someone has to be to kick an old man’s rice bowl away and chase paying customers out of a restaurant.”

“That is…” the man hesitated.

“Well? What are you doing?” Qing pressed. “You caused this whole mess, and now you expect your guests inside to just happily chow down while we’re out here?”

“P-Please wait just a moment!”

The man bowed again, then turned and practically sprinted back into the restaurant.

Inside the opulent private room, Tang Nanah—one of the Five Flowers of the Central Plains, known as the Poisonous Speaking Flower, a prized bloom of the Tang Clan and hailed as the most beautiful woman in Sichuan—was currently engaged in a matter of utmost importance.

She was diligently trying to curry favor with her future sister-in-law—or, in Central Plains parlance, her Daego[^(Term for one's husband's elder sister)].

Peng Choryeo was, in many ways, a rather famous figure.

A muscle maniac utterly obsessed with strength; prone to peculiar statements like claiming she was spiritually married to her enormous dadao and calling herself ‘Mrs. Dadao’; possessed of an ‘unfeminine’ towering stature and remarkably developed physique… and so on.

However, she was equally well-known for her hearty, straightforward personality and lack of pretension.

For the noble ladies of the Central Plains, however, Peng Choryeo's physical attributes or eccentricities were largely irrelevant.

What was important was the widely accepted fact that Peng Choryeo was a ‘comfortable’ older sister figure—someone who presented absolutely zero competition when it came to attracting male attention.

And, most crucially of all: she was the elder sister of that Jade Qilin!

In the complex politics of arranging marriages between powerful families, the opinion of the prospective groom’s eldest sister carried enormous, often decisive, weight.

Therefore, Tang Nanah was, ironically, quite grateful to that nameless ‘Female Xiang Ji’ imposter out in the streets.

It was solely due to hearing rumors of this impersonator that Peng Choryeo had traveled all the way to Sichuan—ostensibly to see this imposter’s face for herself—thus providing Tang Nanah this golden opportunity to capture the heart of her potential future sister-in-law.

“Hehe, Sister,” Tang Nanah simpered sweetly, leaning closer to Peng Choryeo, “I promise, this restaurant is truly famous for its exquisite cuisine! I’m absolutely certain you’ll find it agrees with your palate.”

“Well…” Peng Choryeo grunted noncommittally. “To build muscle, you need to eat muscle. Hmm. Can’t we just gnaw on some plain meat? Ah. Does this dish at least have a lot of meat in it?”

“I—I made sure to specially request they add plenty!”

Tang Nanah stammered, frantically waving a hand hidden beneath the table.

Fortunately, she saw one of the Tang Clan guards stationed inside the room notice her signal and hurry off towards the kitchen.

“Really? Thanks for being thoughtful, then,” Peng Choryeo conceded gruffly.

“Hehe. It’s nothing! It’s food for you to enjoy, Sister!”

“Hmm.”

However, forcing conversation between people with vastly different tastes and interests is never easy.

“Oh my, Sister, your skin is simply radiant! Do you happen to use any particular jade powder or perhaps some special lotus oil?”

“Don’t use that stuff,” Peng Choryeo replied flatly. “Too bothersome. And it just gets sticky when you sweat.”

“Ah… I see…”

“……”

“…Ah! Sister! I happened to see a new artisan when I was Browse a workshop the other day! He was incredibly skilled, able to work gold and silver with masterful freedom. Would you perhaps be interested in his wares?”

“What use is a craftsman skilled with gold and silver?” Peng Choryeo snorted dismissively. “Gold and silver are too soft; useless for forging proper weapons.”

“Ah… I see…”

“……”

Just as Tang Nanah was racking her brain, trying desperately (and failing miserably) to find some common ground to flatter her prospective sister-in-law,

An urgent voice suddenly echoed directly in her ear via Sound Transmission [^(Martial arts technique allowing voice transmission over distances or privately)].

-You fool! Now is hardly the time to be leisurely sipping soup! A proper commotion has broken out downstairs! Didn’t I warn you that choosing Changryong’s tonight might be too much trouble?!-

“Ah, Sister,” Tang Nanah said quickly, forcing a bright smile, “Would you mind if I excused myself for just a moment?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. Go ahead.”

“Hehe, thank you, so sorry! I’ll be right back!”

Tang Nanah hurried out of the dining room and into an adjacent private chamber where a stern-faced older man was waiting impatiently.

“Uncle, what is it?” she demanded, slightly annoyed. “What could possibly be more important than my marriage prospects right now?”

“There’s an elder who’s reached the Unrestrained Realm among those whose reservations were cancelled today,” the man replied grimly. “And he is currently… quite displeased.”

“Why today, of all days?!” Tang Nanah groaned. “Who is it? Please tell me it’s not some Demonic Leader or something…”

“From his bearing, he is clearly a respected elder from either a major Buddhist or Daoist sect. He’s demanding to see the face of whoever ‘kicked away his rice bowl’ and threw him out.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Why now?!”

Tang Nanah stamped her foot in frustration.

It was true that the Great Clans often acted as if they were separate from, and perhaps even above, the complex hierarchy and seniority rankings of the established Nine Sects and One Union.

That rigid hierarchy was primarily a tradition within the sects themselves, often having little direct overlap with the deep-rooted family lineages of the Great Clans.

But did that mean the Clans could truly afford to disrespect high-ranking sect elders?

Of course not. How could they?

A high-ranking elder represented the face and authority of their entire sect. A slight against such an individual was tantamount to slighting the sect itself—a potentially disastrous political move.

(The only reason Peng Daesan and Namgung Shinjae had treated Qing so casually, despite her technically high seniority through her master, was because they were all roughly the same age. As long as Qing wasn’t overtly rude, they could maintain a friendly peer relationship.

This had left only poor Daoist Changbin—technically their senior brother, yet also Qing’s disciple’s disciple’s disciple—alone to suffer the awkwardness of their tangled generational hierarchy.)

“We cannot keep an elder of his stature waiting long,” her uncle urged. “Quickly.”

“I know that, okay?!” Nanah snapped. “Ugh, just my rotten luck.”

“How do you intend to resolve this?” her uncle asked pointedly.

A vicious glint flickered deep within Tang Nanah’s beautiful eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘how’? We’ll handle it the way we always handle such annoyances.”

“Friend,” Jayu asked again, his curiosity clearly piqued, “what exactly is your identity? And who is this esteemed elder accompanying you?”

“Me?” Qing shrugged. “Ximen Qing. Gramps? He’s just my errand-running gramps.”

“That’s clearly not what I meant,” Jayu persisted gently.

“What does it even matter?” Qing retorted, slightly defensive. “It’s not like you started talking to me because you somehow knew my Gramps was some hidden master, right? And you weren’t rude or anything. Does finding out now actually change anything between us?”

“Ooh…”

Jayu’s eyes widened slightly, a look of genuine admiration dawning on his face.

To see a person simply as a person, forming friendships regardless of background or martial strength… looking only at their fundamental character… Remarkable.

Perhaps she wasn't just some unique veiled woman after all, but an eccentric Daoist sage?

In reality, Qing had just blurted out whatever came to mind, basically telling him to mind his own business.

She’d only humored this unknown guy who’d randomly glommed onto her out of boredom because he looked like a rich young master, figuring she could eventually shake him down for a hefty ‘friendship fee.’

Of course, she was only even considering accepting said fee because his profile showed over 400 Righteous Karma Points.

Besides, isn’t this how normal people become friends anyway?

It’s not like you need some grand, dramatic backstory to form every connection.

You hang out for a while, maybe you click, maybe you don’t. If you part ways, it was just a brief encounter.

If you happen to keep in touch, maybe it turns into something longer.

It was at that precise moment.

A figure burst out from the restaurant entrance like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Dressed in fluttering red silk, the figure didn’t pause but immediately dropped to their knees, performing a deep, flawless kowtow right there on the street. The entire sequence—appearance, kneeling, prostration—was executed with astonishing, fluid grace.

Qing watched, genuinely impressed by the sheer elegance of the apology.

Wow. Definitely not her first rodeo.

Does she do this professionally? Apologize for a living?

She was truly a master-level apology specialist.

“Esteemed elder!” a sweet, tearful voice choked out from the prostrate figure. “This girl… this girl is truly, truly sorry for the grave disrespect shown! In my wicked greed… wanting only to entertain an honored guest… I ended up causing… hic, sob… Oh, what should I do… sob… I’m so terribly sorry… sniff, hic…”

And then, lifting a devastatingly beautiful face, she began to shed huge, glistening tears, which rolled down her cheeks like perfect pearls—or perhaps, more aptly, like chicken droppings [^(Korean idiom for large, thick tears, often implying they are crocodile tears)]. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Qing stared, once again utterly captivated.

Wow! Crocodile tears for the win! Flawless execution! Is this the legendary ‘My Tears Are My Sincere Apology’ technique I’ve only heard myths about?! Truly breathtaking!