Chapter 168: Are You Acquainted With This Beggar?

Qing sighed heavily.

"Round and round we go, back to my chest again..."

Qing stared intently at Murong Jun.

His innocent eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"Hmm." Qing tilted her head. Is he doing this on purpose?

"But why specifically a stranger beggar's chest?" Qing mused aloud. "Ah, that sounds weird. Right, don't you have someone like an older sister?"

"Uh, I do have an older sister, but..." Murong Jun started.

"Is she pretty? No, that's not it," Qing thought, then asked, "Then-"

"My sister is really pretty!" he interrupted enthusiastically. "But you don't know her? She's very famous. They say the Golden Sun Sword Flower among the Five Flowers of Murim is my sister."

"Then why not ask your sister? Hmm. Why am I even saying this?" Qing muttered. "Anyway, ignoring your own family... no, wait? Is that even weirder?"

Qing stumbled, momentarily caught in flawed logic. Is it worse if they're siblings? Better than a stranger?

While Qing was lost in confusion, Murong Jun brought up his sister again, unprompted.

"My sister went to Hebei to meet a friend. We're supposed to wait here until she and her friend arrive, then go to Kaifeng together."

"Then, her friend..." Qing paused. "No. That's weird too. No matter how you slice it, the picture looks strange. Such a cheeky little brat."

"Her friend is a man..." Murong Jun added helpfully.

"Wow, you're really good at slipping away," Qing exclaimed in admiration.

Ignoring her, Murong Jun continued with useless chatter. "But my sister has no chest at all. She's flatter than Uncle Yu, the garden manager..."

"Then, what about Uncle Yu?" Qing suggested dryly. "If you close your eyes, wouldn't it be similar? It's just flesh, anyway. Hmm. Whether it's you or the old man, someone's human dignity will take a hit, but still... Hmm, feels like we're getting lost in a maze."

"But Uncle Yu's chest is all muscle!" Murong Jun protested. "He even says stuff like, 'A real man doesn't feel the cold even in midwinter!'"

Qing scratched her head vigorously. Ah, so Uncle Yu isn't some portly fellow but more of the Zhuge type. Come to think of it, being overshadowed by pectorals... She felt a pang of sympathy for the unknown Golden Sun Sword Flower.

Of course, in Qing's experience, there was no benefit to having large breasts. Her shoulders constantly ached, sleeping in any position was uncomfortable due to the pressure, and when it got hot, sweat pooling was torture—absolutely no advantages. Though it's a discomfort that vanished after my Overhaul Rebirth.

Still, it was a significant problem for a martial artist. It obstructed the lower field of vision, creating a vulnerability, and restricted the range of arm movements. Having experienced being cut in half recently, she knew it just meant getting hit—and hurt—by attacks that could otherwise be dodged. It created not one, but three critical weaknesses for a martial artist.

Of course, the great Ximen Qing, who transcends the Peak Realm, is powerful regardless. Still, she didn't envy the Golden Sun Sword Flower.

But why don't I envy her? Because of my proud chest— Hmm...? Why, why am I proud? What good does having breasts do me...? She felt like thinking further was a bad idea.

Qing quickly changed the subject. "But with that secret passage, do you just listen, or do you peek too? How else would you know your sister has no chest?"

"No, I saw when we bathed together during the Mid-Autumn Festival," Murong Jun explained earnestly.

The Mid-Autumn Festival was a holiday roughly equivalent to Chuseok[^This is a major harvest festival in Korea (and East Asia), equivalent to Thanksgiving in the US. It's a time for family gatherings, honoring ancestors, and feasting.]. But bathing during Chuseok? Qing let out a snort of laughter.

"The Mid-Autumn Festival? It's not like you go to the bathhouse once every holiday to scrub off dead skin. But Mid-Autumn? What about the Spring Festival?"

The Spring Festival was roughly equivalent to Seollal, the Lunar New Year.

"That's not it," Murong Jun clarified. "I asked why my sister, even though she's a woman, has no chest and is flat like a man. She got really angry and hasn't bathed with me since..."

"You really drove a nail into your sister's heart over that."

"So I can't tell my sister," he continued, looking disgruntled as he puffed out his cheeks. "She'll get furious if I talk about chests. I think it's a bit unfair. My sister doesn't even have a chest..."

The unfair one isn't your sister, it's you, kiddo. But since Qing found it amusing, she didn't say it out loud.

Hmm. At this point, Qing made her judgment. He was just a curious, smart kid who hadn't learned to distinguish between things you should and shouldn't say. His abundant curiosity naturally led him to roam secret passages and eavesdrop. His intelligence simply meant he remembered it all. As for his loose lips, that was a characteristic of all kids. Once they start talking, they tend to chatter non-stop about their entire life story until their throats are hoarse.

Ultimately, Qing had a soft spot for children, one way or another. Still, the kid seems genuinely nice... The fact that a precious young master from one of the Five Great Families spoke so politely and respectfully to a servant was proof of his pure character. You could tell just by looking at Tang Nanah. She called not only servants but even random old men passing by either 'Hey' or 'You there.' If it weren't for her pro bono work as a female physician, she would have been born as the world's most wicked woman.

"You shouldn't say things like that carelessly," Qing advised gently. "Didn't your sister seem upset when she said that?"

"Uh. Yes, she did..." Murong Jun admitted quietly.

"Would you like it if someone went around telling everyone you wet the bed?"

"Ack." The boy's eyes wavered.

That confirmed it for Qing. This brat definitely wet the bed.

"I wouldn't like that..." he mumbled.

"Right. You understand what I mean?"

The boy nodded. See, the kid is nice... Just being able to hold a conversation already placed him in the upper echelon of kid personalities.

Just as Qing relaxed her tilted posture, Murong Jun urged her impatiently. "So, when can I suck the chest? I'll get scolded if I wander around too long..."

"What, did you leave your chest-sucking request with me?" Qing snapped. "Is my chest laundry now? Suck my chest? This kid's a Little Sex Fiend in the making. Going to be a huge pervert."

"But you took the gold syc- Ack, oh no! Looks like the men are looking for me! Chest next time!"

Only then did Qing realize she hadn't returned the gold sycee yet, nor had she explained what a heinous crime it was to covet the bosom of a woman who wasn't your lover.

Murong Jun stomped his small foot, kong, then smoothly floated up and cut through the air. It was an excellent and remarkable Lightness Skill, unbecoming of a child.

Watching his rapidly retreating back, Qing yelled. "Hey, take your gold sycee! Hey! Little Sex Fiend in the making!"

And in Qing's hand remained one yellow gold sycee. It was even brand new, untouched by human hands. Of course, dirty or clean, its value was the same. But it wasn't something a beggar should possess.

Besides, Qing wasn't actually short on funds. If she just went to a pawn shop and left her Moonlight Sword (No. 9), it was such a great sword that they'd obviously give her a pile of gold sycee for it. Pawn shops were places where you could retrieve items later by paying a premium. When she met her Sworn Sister in Kaifeng, she could just get it back with the chit book.

But a beggar buying and eating cooked meals would attract far more attention than a clean-cut female martial artist. And there was a world of difference in mindset between not eating because you couldn't afford it, and deliberately choosing not to eat expensive meals even though you could easily afford a feast whenever you wanted, like now.

"I need to return this..."

If she went to the training hall where the Murong Clan was staying and announced, 'I am Ximen Qing, a grand elder of the Daoist path, ahem,' she could probably meet the Little Sex Fiend in the making.

But why bother? Why should I? Given the kid's persistent nature, he was bound to seek her out again anyway. She could return it then. And while I'm at it, I should probably give him some sex education. If left unchecked, a sex fiend would be born who could ruin his family, turning one of the Five Great Families into one of the Four Great Clans.

Qing reflected. Come to think of it, hadn't Master, while teaching me, tearfully applied that harmful radioactive substance directly to her fist? Thanks to that, this disciple was reborn as such an upright heroine of the Orthodox Murim. Ah, I miss Master.

A child's education is rightly the family's responsibility. But that didn't mean she could just stand by and watch because he wasn't her child. Guiding a lost child is an adult's duty. Therefore, it was time for Qing to fulfill that duty.

That damn brat. Just wait till he comes back. Like a dictator, Qing began mentally arming herself with ideological nukes.

For dinner tonight, for a change, she went to the Xiliang Eating House.

The Xiliang Eating House always served generous portions, making it a great place for a beggar. If you just gave ten wen coins and asked for a meal set, they'd serve you whatever stir-fries they'd made in bulk that day. Truthfully, business wasn't booming, so the food quality was a bit lacking compared to other eateries. Instead, it competed on quantity, making it a mediocre place that wasn't exactly failing either.

Their generosity with alcohol was particularly noteworthy. Even if the wine was sour from sitting too long, it could be used as a substitute for vinegar in cooking. Ladling out soured wine into a large bowl just because it had turned was an act of commercial virtue rarely seen in the merchant world.

The only concern was...

"The Flower Beggar is here again," a server greeted her.

Flower Beggar was what the staff at the Xiliang Eating House called Qing. Actually, their kindness towards Qing wasn't just out of sheer generosity. It was because when they brought her food, she devoured it so deliciously (devoured isn't an insult here, it's the accurate description) that quite a few customers were drawn in by the sight. Thanks to this, they kept increasing the amount of food they gave Qing, hoping she'd stay longer. Unaware of the situation, Qing just thought they were becoming more generous because she was a regular.

Qing knew nothing beyond the way of beggars.

"It's starting to get warm now," she remarked conversationally.

"Yes, the afternoons feel completely like spring now," the server replied. "So, the usual meal set again?"

"Yes, please."

Damn it, I shouldn't get friendly. But it wasn't just that; Qing was posing as a beggar specifically to avoid forming connections as a precaution against assassins, yet here she was, making another familiar face. Should I stop coming here too...? Hmm, thinking like this feels kind of... It makes me seem like one of those people.

For reference, back in Qing's hometown, there existed ultra-introverted loners who would awkwardly stop frequenting a place once the staff started recognizing them. From Qing's perspective, exchanging a few greetings was fine—it wasn't like you had to chat endlessly with the staff—so why the fuss? But ten people have ten different colors, everyone has their own burdens, and the weight of those burdens differs.

The server brought the tray: a heaping mound of steamed barley-rice-bran mix, various stir-fried vegetables, and a large bowl of wine— Good grief, he gave her two bowls today.

Qing smiled. She was in the middle of enjoying her meal with the accompanying wine, eating spectacularly, when it happened.

Crash! Clang! Rattle!

Just as she noticed a commotion from the back of the eatery, urgent footsteps approached. Soon, customers rushed out frantically, some pale with fright, others sporting faint smiles. The former were startled; the latter were veterans of the martial arts world, familiar with common tavern brawls and likely pleased they could skip out on their bill.

From inside the eatery came the clang clang of blades clashing.

Qing frowned deeply. How undignified. Not an inn, not a tea house, not even a proper restaurant, but a cheap eatery where you wouldn't even spend silver sycee no matter how much you ate—what kind of idiots start a sword fight here? Since I'm curious, I need to go see quickly.

Qing stealthily headed inside the eatery. The stealth technique Qing learned in the Demonic Cult, Black Shadow Stealth, was Red-grade. It was an art difficult for the server, crouching behind the long, blocked-off table under the single seats, to possibly detect.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Qing whispered, appearing beside him.

"Whoa! You scared me!" the server yelped, startled. "Ah, is that the Flower Beggar? Ahem," he cleared his throat, adopting the stern tone he reserved for her, "Why have you come here? Don't get yourself hurt for no reason, stay outside."

"They say the most fun thing to watch is a fight," Qing retorted nonchalantly.

"There are fights and then there are fights," the server scoffed. "What would we understand watching Murim masters fight? It's only fun watching street thugs puffing their chests out and brawling."

He meant that pissant fights were the only fun ones. Qing nodded in agreement.

"To me, thugs or those guys, it's all pretty similar," she said. "Hmm. So, what happened?"