Chapter 127: Tang Clan's Paper Flower

Qing then focused her attention back on the Exchange Window.

Okay, for this Inverse Marrow Washing Sutra… let’s just efficiently level it to Six Stars for now and hold off on spending more points.

If my mind starts going completely haywire again later, maybe I can slowly raise its level and use it like some kind of purification spell? Worth a shot.

Having finished the 2,000-point exchange for the Sutra, Qing called up the next available Exchange Window—and immediately frowned, annoyed.

“Why the hell does the next one cost 3,000 Points…?!”

Shouldn’t the next increment after 2,000 points be 2,500?

Why the sudden jump to 3,000?

She grumbled under her breath, feeling unjustly treated. But honestly, wasn't it practically common sense, established through countless frustrating experiences in games like this, that these kinds of exchange systems invariably demand progressively more resources at higher tiers?

It clearly meant that from this point forward, each new martial art exchange would cost a hefty 1,000 Karma Points instead of the previous 500.

What was even scarier was the uncertainty—would the next exchange after this cost 1,500 more? Or maybe 2,000? And furthermore, how many total exchanges would even be available at the 1,000-point tier? The fear of the unknown, compounded by the drastically increased cost, was significant.

Damn it! If I’d known the price would jump like this, I definitely would have postponed learning that maybe-useless Inverse Marrow Washing Sutra!

However, regret always arrives fashionably late.

If the Inverse Marrow Washing Sutra itself possessed consciousness, it might have offered Qing a smug Buddhist teaching: ‘Disciple, you have already learned the technique; what can you possibly do about it now? This Buddha has already firmly settled within your energy center! Is this not clearly my victory?’ A lesson in A Point of No Return [^(Korean idiom from card games, lit. "a fallen/played card cannot be retracted," meaning an irreversible decision)].

What Qing had thought were two free martial art acquisitions remaining had just turned out to be only one.

Her entire future expected income of awesome new skills had effectively been cut by more than half in an instant.

Qing sighed heavily and dismissed the Exchange Window for now.

This required more thought. Definitely need to subtly ask Master about this later, maybe get her advice before deciding anything else, she resolved.

Putting that aside, she called up her Martial Arts Window and dumped enough Practice Points into the newly acquired Inverse Marrow Washing Sutra to raise it directly to Six Stars.

Then, Qing stared intently at her skill list for a long time.

She focused her gaze on one particular entry… the progress bar beside it rapidly filled… the number changed… finally hitting Twelve Stars. Grand Completion.

White Hand Demonic Arts. Grand Completion.

Didn’t the description say that reaching Grand Completion makes the user indestructible below the elbows? And I still can’t even begin to grasp the Transcendent Realm…

Definitely need more reliable ways to counter enemy Sword Force. Plus, I have Gramps here now to help with performance testing!

And above all else… blocking Sword Force with your bare goddamn hands?

Isn’t that just ridiculously cool?!

Roughly estimating her remaining Practice Points, Qing decided to go all-in, pouring everything into one of her existing Purple-bordered techniques, raising it all the way to Twelve Stars.

Buddha's Palm. Grand Completion.

Come to think of it, although the actual feeling of using it lacked a certain satisfying impact, hadn't Buddha’s Palm proven to be her single most consistently helpful martial art so far? Definitely a worthy investment.

Qing mentally began to unfold the new insights and movements associated with the Grand Completion stage—knowledge that seemed to burrow into her brain like beneficial parasites.

It was a truly bizarre sight unfolding in her mind's eye: her right hand flowed through the intricate, deadly forms of the White Hand Demonic Arts, while her left hand simultaneously executed the profound, compassionate gestures of the Buddha’s Palm.

If anyone had actually witnessed this internal practice externally, they likely would have rubbed their eyes vigorously, checked again, and then lamented despairingly, “Even with my eyes wide open, I’m clearly seeing impossible things! What possible use is the sense of sight anymore if it cannot be trusted?!”

Moreover, the very act of freely and simultaneously utilizing two completely different, high-level martial arts—one with the left hand, one with the right—was itself a marvelous skill, a feat bordering on the miraculous.

It was typically considered an incredibly difficult technique, achievable only through mastering peerless Divine Arts known for such ambidextrous control, or perhaps as a result of extensively developing the Upper Energy Center.

But Qing, naturally, hadn’t trained her martial arts through conventional means—laborious practice, repetitive drills, physical conditioning.

She simply… downloaded the movements embedded within her system directly into her brain and executed them as needed. So, what did trifling details like left-hand/right-hand coordination possibly matter to her?

Qing was, in many, many ways, a complete freeloader when it came to cultivation.

Hmm. A new thought occurred. Maybe learn some kicking techniques too?

One hand wields a sword, the other hand rips and tears or shoots palm strikes… and then, when needed, I can add in some surprise kicks? Yeah, sounds versatile!

Qing thought this was quite a good idea.

However, when she actually scrolled through the Kicking Techniques section in her Martial Arts Window, she found there were no Purple-bordered kicking arts available at all. In fact, there was only one Gold-bordered technique listed—something called Formless Kick. And even Red-bordered kicking techniques were remarkably few and far between.

What’s this? Qing frowned. Are Kicking Techniques just… seriously underdeveloped in this world? Was this section still in Early Access or something?

Because Qing couldn’t simply contain her curiosity, she asked Choi Leeong about it later. He clicked his tongue and explained patiently.

“The feet, child, are fundamentally the beginning, the foundation, of all martial arts. Whether you extend a spear, thrust a sword, or throw a fist, your feet invariably move first, grounding your body, allowing you to exert force effectively. Therefore, almost all martial arts are inherently used in conjunction with footwork. Consequently, learning dedicated Kicking Techniques offers limited synergy; unlike Left Hand Finger Stances or Clasped Hand Techniques, they cannot typically be seamlessly integrated with other styles. It is generally considered sufficient to learn just one solid kicking technique as an unexpected trump card, nothing more.”

“Ah. So then, that martial art called Formless Kick…?”

“Is not the Formless Kick one of the Supreme Techniques of Shaolin?” Choi replied. “They are fundamentally practitioners who favor the Clasped Hand approach, so it is unsurprising they developed at least a few notable foot skills to supplement their main style.”

“Oooh. Shaolin,” Qing murmured, impressed despite herself.

“However,” Choi added thoughtfully, “for a woman, learning at least one kicking art might prove beneficial. The female skeletal structure often possesses certain advantages when it comes to executing specific types of kicks. And if employed skillfully as a Noble Kick [^("Gentleman's Kick," but used ironically here, as its for females)], it can be remarkably tricky for opponents to deal with. If you ask your Master, she will likely be willing to teach you at least one suitable technique.”

The Noble Kick wasn't a specific, named martial art.

Rather, it was a general term referring to any kicking technique performed by a woman while wearing a skirt.

Its deceptive power stemmed from the fact that the skirt naturally concealed the shape and movement of the legs, making the kick's trajectory difficult to predict.

In a way, it was close to being a vile deception, leveraging social norms for combat advantage. But who in their right mind would complain about a woman simply wearing a skirt?

(There would certainly be no problem unless some man foolishly decided to wear a skirt himself specifically to take advantage of the Noble Kick's deceptive properties.)

However, the very act of fighting effectively while wearing a long skirt was inherently uncomfortable and significantly hindered proper footwork, creating a distinct disadvantage in most combat situations. Thus, it wasn't considered a style particularly worth dedicating specific training time to master.

This inherent impracticality was precisely why most skilled female martial artists in the Central Plains favored wearing those seemingly indecent skirts with high slits up the sides—for freedom of movement.

Thus, all the mysteries were finally solved.

Kicking Techniques were basically trash!

If the Shaolin Monks ever heard this conclusion, they would likely just nod sadly with crumpled faces.

While one couldn't definitively say that techniques like the Formless Kick or the Demon-Subduing Cyclical Divine Kick weren't excellent or powerful in their own right, the truth remained that it was generally far more efficient and effective to learn other Divine Arts instead.

“Hmm. Okay, Gramps,” Qing pondered aloud. “Then, hypothetically, if I absolutely had to learn just one more new martial art right now, what do you think I should learn?”

“Well,” Choi Leeong replied after a moment’s thought, his expression turning slightly concerned. “Given your unique situation, my personal recommendation… I would strongly wish for you to learn the Violet Mist Divine Arts.”

“Violet Mist Divine Arts?” Qing repeated, intrigued.

“Do you not already handle various disparate True Energies simultaneously due to your special abilities?” Choi asked pointedly.

“Huh? You knew about that?” Qing blinked, surprised.

“How could I possibly not know that much?”

Choi Leeong snorted dismissively.

Although Choi Leeong himself had ultimately benefited greatly—dispersing his old Demonic Arts entirely and replacing them with a more precious Divine Art (Qing’s Great Tranquil Zen Art)—he had still effectively broken apart and discarded all his previous lifetime’s achievements in the process.

Qing, however, had seemingly just accepted and learned everything thrown at her, readily handling True Energies of various distinct colors and natures. Choi therefore reasoned she must possess some innate method or special technique allowing her to use these conflicting energies without internal damage.

However, since he had never actually seen her manifest the distinctive purple energy of his own former Purple Lightning Demonic Arts, he had mistakenly assumed she was deliberately avoiding its use, perhaps being mindful of how others might perceive such a demonic energy signature.

“The Violet Mist Divine Arts and the Purple Lightning Demonic Qi appear very similar visually,” Choi explained. “They are nearly indistinguishable to the untrained eye. Therefore, if you were to learn the Violet Mist technique, could you not then utilize your purple lightning energy freely without worrying about others’ judgment or suspicion?”

However, Choi Leeong was operating under a critical misunderstanding.

Qing wasn’t deliberately not using her Purple Lightning Demonic Qi; she simply couldn’t use it effectively.

The Purple Lightning Demonic Arts were originally a martial art that should surge forth spontaneously in the form of destructive lightning, triggered and empowered by the owner’s raw emotions.

But in reality, within Qing’s chaotic energy center, her Purple Lightning energy spent all its time, day and night, desperately running away from the relentlessly encroaching energy of the Maiden’s Blissful Art. It was trapped in a pitiful, never-ending sprint for survival, unable to manifest or do anything useful, just like all the other Demonic Arts she had absorbed.

The various Demonic Arts residing within her had apparently even formed a cute little conspiracy, attempting to grow stronger through Qing’s passive auto-cultivation specifically to counter the overwhelming Blissful True Qi. However, they had despaired in the face of one Buddha (the Great Tranquil Zen Art), and utterly collapsed in defeat with the arrival of a second (the Inverse Marrow Washing Sutra).

Anyway, Qing, who wasn’t particularly concerned about her unusable Purple Lightning Demonic Qi at the moment, wanted a different answer from Choi.

“Okay, but what about besides Internal Energy Cultivation Techniques?”

“If discussing swordsmanship,” Choi replied thoughtfully, “wouldn’t the Wisdom Sword of Tai Chi (Taegeuk Hyegum) be considered the best among peers? Its underlying subtleties are said to align perfectly with the fundamental principles of the world itself, so mastering it should greatly aid your overall growth and future achievements as well.”

“Wow! Tai Chi!” Qing exclaimed, impressed again.

Violet Mist Divine Arts. Wisdom Sword of Tai Chi.

Qing quickly scanned the Exchange Window again and saw that both techniques indeed possessed dazzling Purple Borders, signifying them as peerless Divine Arts.

Come to think of it, she had been seriously neglecting her swordsmanship lately.

Even her Yue Maiden Sword Technique, which had reached Grand Completion, wasn’t technically a pure Sword Technique anymore—it felt more like a general ‘Blade Technique’ applicable to her dadao!

Her Divine Maiden Sword Sutra possessed an exhilarating, fierce quality, but it was only Blue-bordered.

Ximen Surin herself had evaluated that it was far more beneficial for Qing to focus on fully embodying the rigidly formalized, peerless Sword Art forms contained within the ancient Yue Maiden Sword Technique rather than learning flashy new Sword Techniques. Consequently, their training had mostly consisted of intense sparring sessions (often disguised as near-nuclear bombardments from Surin’s side).

In the end, it meant Qing didn’t currently possess a single ‘proper’ high-level Sword Technique.

(Of course, by Qing’s demanding standards, ‘proper’ martial arts basically meant only those with purple borders—techniques hailed by the martial world as peerless Divine Arts.

Gold-bordered techniques were considered barely usable.)

Wait a second… A vague memory surfaced. Come to think of it… didn’t I already register a Gold-bordered Sword Technique in my Martial Arts Window quite some time ago?

Why wasn’t I learning it already?

Was there some kind of nasty side effect I forgot about?

Qing seriously tried to recall the details, but couldn’t remember anything specific. So, she quickly made a decision.

One of the Ten Great Demonic Arts Under Heaven: The One Hundred And Eight Asura Sword.

Six Stars achieved instantly via point exchange.

Tang Nanah, it seemed, had quickly realized that sleeping in close proximity to another person was actually quite a difficult and uncomfortable task.

This could be clearly inferred from the fact that she didn't ask to sleep together again after that first night.

Well, of course it is, Qing thought smugly.

Sharing a bed comfortably is clearly a privilege reserved only for those, like me, who possess a sufficiently dull and insensitive mind!

Carelessly attempting such intimacy could be a big mistake, potentially messing up one’s delicate sleep cycle completely!

After spending several more days focused primarily on training (and occasionally annoying Nanah), the day of the decisive battle—the imperial inspection—finally dawned.

From early morning, an arrogant-looking contingent of officials and guards appeared, practically kicking open the main gates of the Tang Center compound.

Of course, it wasn’t technically a surprise attack; they had marched boldly down the main road towards the Tang estate in full view of everyone. The elites of the Sichuan Tang Clan, having received advance notice of their arrival, rushed out in disciplined droves to formally meet the enemy delegation.

The fatty standing arrogantly at the very center of the imperial delegation—looking for all the world like a perfect personification of the infamous tyrant Dong Zhuo [^(Infamous, tyrannical warlord during the late Han Dynasty)]—opened his mouth first.

“Hah! Behold, the treasonous bastards of the Tang Clan!” he boomed insultingly. “His Imperial Majesty graciously ordered you all to present yourselves voluntarily outside your gates! Why then did you fail to move your heavy backsides, forcing this esteemed Imperial Censor himself to personally make the journey?! Just how much of the common people’s sweat and blood have you parasites sucked dry to fill your latrine pits and make your behinds so damn heavy?!”

Ooh. Qing raised an eyebrow. Starting off pretty strong there, buddy.

She immediately recalled Tang Touzhong’s earlier warning:

They will deliberately come seeking to provoke us; we absolutely must not strike first.

At the Censor's insults, Tang Touzhong responded with perfect, practiced politeness.

“Present ourselves voluntarily outside? We clearly heard that Your Excellency would be visiting us directly, and thus we were instructed simply to await your esteemed arrival here. Was that information incorrect?”

“Tsk tsk,” the Imperial Censor clicked his tongue dismissively. “Isn’t that effectively the same thing?”

And then the Censor clicked his tongue again, looking around critically.

“Even so! The attitude displayed by you traitors is incredibly disrespectful! I clearly commanded you to await my arrival with the proper appearance of criminals! Do you honestly expect me to believe this is the appropriate appearance of convicted criminals?”

According to proper protocol, criminals awaiting judgment should have their hair unbound, be dressed in rough hemp clothing, and be positioned kneeling with both forearms and knees pressed firmly to the ground.

Everyone from the Tang Clan, however, was standing proudly on two feet, dressed in fine silks, hence the Censor's pointed remark.

Despite the provocation, Tang Touzhong remained dignified and composed.

“What does Your Excellency mean? How can we possibly call ourselves criminals based on mere slander when we have committed no crime whatsoever under these heavens? Indeed, would it not be a far greater crime against His Imperial Majesty himself for those who are innocent to falsely claim guilt, thereby obscuring the identity of the true culprits?”

“Hah! Your words flow as smoothly as a mountain stream, Clan Lord Tang!” the Censor sneered. “Fine! Then let us simply proceed to ascertain from this moment forward whether you truly plotted treason or not! Guards! All of you, rush inside immediately! Scrape out every single document, examine every single character, miss absolutely nothing!”

“Ah,” Tang Touzhong interjected calmly, interrupting the Censor’s order just as the guards began to move. “That might prove somewhat… difficult.”

“What was that?!” the Censor rounded on him instantly. “Are you finally admitting that you plotted treason?! Is this proof that the incriminating evidence resides within?!”

“That is not it at all, Your Excellency,” Tang Touzhong replied smoothly, his expression perfectly innocent. “In truth, late last night, a mischievous wild cat somehow managed to enter our main storage warehouse and caused quite a bit of havoc. Unfortunately,” he added with a deep sigh of regret, “the creature apparently ran around carrying a pouch containing one of our most potent deadly poisons in its mouth, accidentally turning the entire Tang Center compound into what is effectively… a lethal death trap, no different from an area saturated with inescapable killing intent.”

It was, objectively, an utterly implausible excuse.

If it was truly a poison storage warehouse, it should have been among the most heavily guarded and secured locations in the entire compound; the idea that a simple cat could just wander inside was ridiculous to begin with.

Furthermore, was this cat supposedly carrying the deadly poison pouch some kind of invincible, super-powered feline possessing the legendary Invulnerability to Ten Thousand Poisons?

Even generously assuming that such a miraculous creature actually existed and somehow managed to raid the poison warehouse… how could it possibly spread enough poison throughout the vast Tang Center compound to turn the entire area into a lethal death trap without possessing some kind of infinite, magical pouch?

At this completely nonsensical explanation, the Imperial Censor was rendered utterly dumbfounded. So much so that his nose felt blocked, his mind became completely muddled by the sheer absurdity of the claim, and his words were entirely cut off, leaving him capable only of gaping his mouth open and shut like a landed fish.

Witnessing this masterful display of bureaucratic obstruction, Qing inwardly admired the Tang Clan Lord’s audacity.

Wow! Your Honor! she mentally cheered.

It was all the cat’s doing! Definitely the cat!