Chapter 169: Are You Acquainted With This Beggar?

“They’re bounty hunters,” the server explained, hopping anxiously. “Something about a reward… Oh dear, everything’s getting smashed to bits! What are we going to do?”

Doesn't this somehow seem familiar?

Qing cautiously peeked out from behind a long, overturned table, her eyes just clearing the edge to survey the battle unfolding below.

It was a nine-versus-four brawl.

However, in terms of martial realm, the group of four was superior. Still, this fight wasn't a good measure of how absolute one's realm was in the martial arts world. There was no overcoming sheer numbers; the four were surrounded and breaking out in a cold sweat.

Only true masters, perhaps those at the Peak Realm, could really turn the tide against superior numbers like this. If the strongest opponent was only late or mid First-Rate, with the rest being early First-Rate or Second-Rate, the side with more people simply had the advantage.

“Ah, the one spitting blood over there,” Qing asked, “which side is he on? The four? Or the nine?”

“There were originally eleven,” the server replied.

Despite the supposed danger, the server was also engrossed in the spectacle. When Qing pointed with a tentative finger, a pair of legs below the knee could be seen sticking out from under another overturned table.

“Well now,” Qing murmured, “this is a fight to the death.”

No wonder they were fighting so fiercely. With two dead from the group of eleven, it was natural for them to lose their minds. If the four had shown overwhelming dominance, it might have been different, but they were constantly on the defensive. Even beasts don’t hold back when they sense an advantage.

Hmm.

Soon, the four would likely die, perhaps taking a few more down with them, but ultimately, the side with more numbers would win. However, while the larger group seemed to have accrued quite a bit of bad karma, the four seemed tilted towards good karma. The apparent leader among the four, the strongest one, even had a score of thirteen points.

“I’m borrowing some chopsticks,” Qing announced.

“Hm? What for?” the server asked, confused. I was planning to go out and clean up after the fight ended.

Qing abruptly stood up, arms crossed before her chest, chopsticks already wedged between each finger joint. It was a preparatory stance without any real meaning; she was just copying something Tang Nanah did. Somehow, that girl managed to throw several at once like this.

Shaking the chopsticks back onto the table, Qing picked them up one by one, continuously raising her arm and flinging them out. Faster than arrows, the chopsticks struck vulnerable spots—soft bellies, necks, the backs of hands.

A chorus of varied screams erupted—"Ack!", "Ugh!", "Gack!" Seizing the opportunity, the four launched a coordinated strike. Three of them worked together seamlessly, moving as one, but one much younger member seemed slightly out of sync, making the joint attack slightly less impressive than it could have been.

With a Peak Realm master, capable of taking down even Transcendent Realm experts, flinging chopsticks that pierced limbs, how could this even be a fight?

“Wait! Stop! Keep that one alive!” Qing shouted.

A single chopstick flew out, smacking the late First-Rate expert’s sword with a sharp Clang!

And just like that, the situation was resolved.

Except for the two Qing had deliberately spared—those with double-digit bad karma—the group of eleven was wiped out.

The group of four, specifically their strongest member, offered Qing a respectful fist and palm salute. “We are grateful for your aid, Senior. I am Jo Gaksan of the Qinghe Martial Hall. It’s embarrassing to say, but in the martial arts world, I am known as the Virtuous Gale of Qinghe.”

“Hm,” Qing replied flatly. “Just a passing beggar. At the Xiliang Restaurant, they call me Flower Beggar.”

Jo Gaksan’s expression turned peculiar. It was impossible to tell if she was mocking him or simply unwilling to reveal her identity, hidden as her face was. In any case, a woman’s age couldn't be determined by voice alone. Though her appearance was strange, she must be a senior expert of the martial arts world—so Jo Gaksan concluded. Eccentric figures were hardly rare among the masters of the martial arts world.

“So, what happened?” Qing demanded. “Why fight inside someone else’s place of business? Who’s going to pay for all this damage? Can’t you see the server here weeping in sorrow?”

“Waaah… sob, what am I going to do with all this…” the server wailed, playing along perfectly. “I haven’t even paid back my debt to the owner yet…” Any server lacking this level of quick thinking wasn't qualified for the job. He pretended to sob uncontrollably, burying his face on a table and making weeping sounds.

“Surely,” Qing said, turning back to Jo Gaksan, her voice dripping with implication, “virtuous experts like yourselves wouldn’t inflict damages upon an innocent commoner and then just ignore it, right?”

“O-Of course not!” Jo Gaksan stammered. “Hey, uh, well. It’s a small amount, but please take this…”

Seeing the single silver sycee Jo Gaksan produced, Qing added dryly, “It really is meager.”

“Ahem,” Jo Gaksan cleared his throat, flustered. “I intended to take out more. My hands are small, so I couldn’t grab several at once…”

To Qing, the man’s hands looked plenty large enough. Alongside the flimsy excuse, a decent pile of silver sycee accumulated before her. Only then did Qing nod with a satisfied expression and ask again, “So, what happened?”

“Ah. These are my younger brothers,” Jo Gaksan explained. “We travel the martial arts world performing acts of righteousness. Perhaps because of this, people have embarrassingly bestowed upon us the undeserved title of the Virtuous Quartet of Qinghe.”

“Hm? Virtuous Quartet of Qinghe? Why does that sound familiar?” Qing mused aloud.

“Ah! You’ve heard of us, Senior!” Jo Gaksan beamed, scratching the back of his head. “Haha, well, this is quite embarrassing…”

Doesn’t it feel like it should be the Virtuous Trio of Qinghe? Qing wondered silently. Why? Is it because ‘Trio’ reminds me of some wonder of civilization that doesn't exist yet?

“So,” Qing said, her patience wearing thin, “what happened—honestly, how many times do I have to ask?”

“Ah. My apologies,” Jo Gaksan said quickly. “We were actually chasing a vicious wanted criminal, but these thugs tore down the wanted poster, saying only they should see it. When I sternly admonished them that they shouldn't do that, the lawless brutes drew their swords…”

Of course, one would need to hear the eleven’s side of the story too. Judging by the wronged expressions on the two survivors, they likely had something to say. Well, if you feel wronged, you should have lived virtuously. As Qing averted her gaze, the two survivors lowered their heads dejectedly.

“A wanted poster, you say,” Qing said. “May I see it?”

“Yes! Senior. Please wait a moment.”

The Virtuous Quartet busily searched the corpses and soon produced a multiply-folded piece of paper. Qing unfolded it. A realistic depiction, unusual for the Central Plains' artistic style, showed a woman who might or might not be beautiful. Unfortunately, wanted posters only really worked for distinct faces; depicting a conventionally beautiful woman was difficult even with the modern techniques from Qing's homeland.

What the hell is this? Qing thought indignantly. Do I look like a pig?

Naturally, when a large-chested woman wore thick, padded clothing, her figure appeared bulky and straight down from the widest point, making her torso seem exceptionally large. This was precisely why large breasts were often disliked in the Central Plains' standards of beauty—they ruined the silhouette in clothing, making one look plump rather than elegant.

Regardless, after confirming the wanted poster, Qing felt relieved. What is this? How could they possibly find me with something like this?

Just then, the Virtuous Quartet were also looking at a wanted poster. The bounty hunters hadn't torn down just one copy. It was common practice for bounty hunters to tear down and monopolize wanted posters to hinder competitors.

The Virtuous Quartet looked at Qing with subtle, dawning expressions.

Estimated Transcendent Realm. Hidden face.

Tall stature. Stout, large-framed, fleshy body.

Moreover, Qing possessed not only a large chest but also hips that significantly exceeded the average. In thick clothes, her body appeared quite wide and straight down.

“Uh, Senior?” Jo Gaksan ventured hesitantly.

“What?” Qing snapped.

“Perhaps, um… never mind,” Jo Gaksan quickly backtracked. Asking a woman with a covered face to show it was such a grave discourtesy that it could easily lead to drawn swords.

Seeing another wanted poster in Jo Gaksan’s hand, Qing flinched, realizing her mistake. Ah. They recognized me from this? Is it because of the height? she thought frantically. But do I really look that much like a pig?

Setting that aside, why am I getting so angry? What’s wrong with looking a bit bulky? Even trying to reason with herself, the boiling feeling inside didn't subside at all. Wow, I'm actually pissed. Which bastard wrote up this wanted poster like this?

A chilling aura began to seep from Qing, making Jo Gaksan swallow hard and ask again with a trembling voice, “Uh… Senior?”

“Ah. Right,” Qing said, pulling herself together. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m slender, you know? Here, look.”

She grabbed the hem of her robe at her waist and rolled it up tightly. Her monstrous strength folded the fabric almost like vacuum-sealing, reducing the apparent width of her waistline by nearly half.

“Ah! What incredible… ahem,” Jo Gaksan stammered, staring. “I didn’t realize because you were wearing thick clothes.”

“It’s the clothes, right?” Qing pressed.

“Yes, winter clothes are all like that,” Jo Gaksan agreed readily. “This is quite embarrassing. Please accept my apologies.” Having had a good look and his suspicions completely dispelled, Jo Gaksan bowed his head low, along with his sworn brothers, showing the crowns of their heads.

Perhaps because of this display of deference, Qing’s anger finally melted away. They’re apologizing so politely, what more can I do?

Black markets were held separately in each administrative province. Except for the vast Sichuan province, which might host two markets simultaneously in different regions, each province generally had one. Within the province, the market location changed every four or five days, so calling it an irregular night market held every few days wouldn't be far off.

In any case, black-clad figures suddenly swarmed the black markets of Fujian and its neighbors—Guangdong, Jiangxi, and Zhejiang provinces. Not a single underling was among them; impressively, numerous monstrous figures impervious to swords and sabers prowled within their ranks.

“This is the work of the Jinju Eon Clan!” one shouted. “We are merely punishing the lawless ones who dared threaten our family matriarch! Guests, hold your weapons above your heads with both hands and exit!”

“We are only here to punish the Black Market!” another declared. “Innocent guests, leave this place!”

Un Yeonyeong wasn't a fool; there was no need to accrue unnecessary resentment by cutting down customers. Thus, she established a pretext, targeting only the Black Market authorities and merchants. Merchants, likely burdened with goods, wouldn't have brought weapons, and those who did could consider themselves lucky to be spared.

Terrified unarmed martial artists cried out, “What about those who practice fist techniques?!”

“You useless fools!” came the scathing reply from an Eon Clan member. “Why swing your limbs around ignorantly, stupidly, foolishly, when there are perfectly good weapons available?! You imbeciles who need to clash fist against blade to know which gets cut! Those who practice fist or palm techniques, raise both hands and continuously shout the name of your practiced forms!”

Thus, amidst the chaos, shouts of technique names, particularly those involving animal names like 'Fierce Tiger Pounce' or 'Crane Descends from Waterfall', echoed loudly.

Then, ordinary commoners who had just come for amusement cried out, “Oh, heavens, sir! I am not a martial artist!”

“Tsk. Shout out your place of origin and name!” instructed the Eon Clan member. “Then the blades of the Eon Clan will avoid you!”

“I am Wang Junyeong of Shixing, Guangdong! I am Wang Junyeong of Shixing, Guangdong! I am Wang Junyeong of Shixing, Guangdong!” one man yelled frantically.

Thanks to this, the cacophony of clashing steel and screams was overlaid with the loud shouting of foolish animal names and unexpected self-introductions, creating utter pandemonium.

Through the burning black market, an incongruously frail woman walked with neat, demure steps. As Un Yeonyeong stormed into the central office of the black market, the Guangdong Black Store Branch Manager cried out in horror.

“Didn’t the Jinju Eon Clan fall…?!”

“Oh my, what a hurtful thing to say,” Un Yeonyeong purred, stepping forward. “I am the Jinju Eon Clan. Oh my, is this my wanted poster? Shall we see how prettily they drew me?”

Un Yeonyeong picked up the wanted poster. Her expression, usually marked by a faint smile, contorted into something similar to Qing's face when hearing difficult words. An observer would say her face looked as if it were plastered with question marks.

“Oh dear…?” she murmured. “Who on earth is this?”

“Isn’t that wretched woman Un Yeonyeong?!” the Branch Manager spat.

“I am Un Yeonyeong,” she replied sweetly. “But who might this be? Six chi…? Xinpa,” she asked, turning slightly, “do I look that tall?”

Just then, Puk. A snow-white hand burst through the Branch Manager's chest. Blood didn't stain it but dripped off as a human heart settled firmly in its grasp. Instantly deprived of his heart, the Branch Manager collapsed. Xinpa tossed the heart to Un Yeonyeong with a sneer.

“Hmph. Looks like the woman who acts so clever got properly tricked,” Xinpa scoffed. “Obviously an impersonator. Anyone can impersonate a ruined family, it makes no difference.”

“Ah. My ingredient,” Un Yeonyeong said softly, fumbling awkwardly to catch the heart flying in an arc. She tucked it into a pouch at her waist with a troubled smile. “To dare impersonate me. They must have considerable courage. Hmm. Beauty nearing Number One Under Heaven. Could it be one of the Five Great Beauties of the Central Plains?”

“Unless the Black Store idiots are blind, they wouldn’t mistake one of the Five Great Beauties and cause this uproar,” Xinpa retorted dismissively.

“That’s true…” Un Yeonyeong mused. “Then who…” Suddenly, someone flashed through her mind. Her eyes curved prettily, tinged with longing. “Qing-ah isn't that beautiful, after all.”

“Hm? What are you talking about?” Xinpa asked, confused.

“Oh my,” Un Yeonyeong said with faux innocence. “Eavesdropping on my private thoughts? You truly have a nasty disposition.”

The White Hand Demonic Sect member, Xinpa, snorted, "Hmph!"

“Hearing that from the nastiest woman under Heaven truly feels disgusting,” Xinpa shot back. “Hmph. What now?”

“The Black Store people were merely deceived,” Un Yeonyeong suggested mildly. “So shall we withdraw?”

“Feeling sorry for the Black Store idiots now?” Xinpa sneered. “We really messed them up, and they didn't even know they were deceived.”

“What?” Un Yeonyeong blinked, then let out a small hiccup. “Oh my, hic, Xinpa, what… joking… heheh, this time… Haa, amusing… Kya-hahah…” She couldn't hold back and doubled over, bursting into loud laughter.

After laughing heartily for a long while, Un Yeonyeong finally managed to speak, rubbing her aching stomach and wiping away tears. “That was the funniest joke Xinpa has ever told. So, does Xinpa feel sorry every time she swats a mosquito or a fly? Ah, should we build a shrine together to honor insects? That way, Xinpa can feel at ease.”

At that, Xinpa’s expression soured completely.