Chapter 172: Are You Acquainted With This Beggar?

"What? A beggar like a flower, so Flower Beggar. Got a problem with that?" Qing retorted.

"But, but you're chubby......" Murong Jun stammered.

"Hey. Peonies are flowers, and lotus blossoms are flowers too, you know? Just because they're big, they aren't flowers?"

"But those two are pretty......" he mumbled.

"My, aren't you quite the outspoken one, saying what's on your mind," Qing said dryly. "Alright, you win. Fine. Go now. Flower Beggar—no, Beggar Sis is going to sleep."

"Ah! Uh, um. Then, then, um, pumpkin flower—no, pumpkin flowers are pretty when you look at them too, so how about just 'pumpkin'? Or maybe bitter melon, or cucumber—ack!"

Murong Jun tumbled to the ground again, oblivious to his expensive silk clothes getting covered in dirt.

In Qing's personal opinion, kids were basically earth-elemental anyway, destined to grub around in the dirt, so a little rolling around wouldn't hurt them.

This time, the flick was much weaker than before, not daring to invoke the almighty name 'Nuclear', just a mere noogie (Third-Rate level). But hitting the same spot again always hurt more brutally.

After rolling around for a while, Murong Jun, perhaps feeling wronged this time, looked up with eyes brimming with tears, his gaze full of betrayal.

"Why, why?" he whimpered.

"I told you not to say mean things," Qing reminded him.

"But Beggar Sis, you agreed with my father. People who cover their faces are—"

"Enough," Qing cut him off. "Hey, if I called you 'the kid who wet the bed,' would you like it? So, did you not wet the bed? Not even once, ever?"

"Ah."

"What do you mean, 'ah'? Forget it. Beggar Sis is sleeping."

Qing then lay down completely. Murong Jun just stood there blankly, slowly rubbing the top of his head.

"Um, Beggar Sis," he ventured hesitantly, "Won't it be uncomfortable sleeping here? Our house—no, not our house, but wouldn't you rather sleep at the Sohua Sect?"

Either way, the kid’s got a good heart.

Qing answered while still lying down. "You have to think about the Sohua Sect people too. They probably wouldn't like me bringing a beggar over."

"Ah."

"Alright. It's late, don't wander around alone, hmm? What? What time is it now?" Qing lay flat on her back and looked up at the sky. Judging by the position of the faintly shining clear moon, it was roughly late choushi to early yinshi—converted to modern time, it was that 3 AM timeslot when human sentimentality peaked, making one send texts without thinking.

"Seriously," Qing said, sitting up slightly, "what's a precious young master like you doing wandering around alone in the middle of the night? It's dangerous."

"Ah. I'm not alone," Murong Jun explained. "I came with Warrior Green, who's guarding me. Warrior Green?"

"Gurgle."

Hearing a sudden phlegmy sound, Qing looked over and saw a figure in black standing in the shadow of the wall, watching her. His presence seemed concealed, making his realm impossible to gauge, but she could glean other information—his evil karma score was in the low two hundreds.

What the hell, I couldn't sense him at all.
But wait, he's a bad guy?

Qing became instantly wary. However, the figure, Warrior Green, waved his hand as if to reassure her. Qing was dubious for a moment, then suddenly thought of Gramps.

Right, there could be others like Gramps.

The kid was principled and persistent, but he also listened well and was kind of cute. If he'd been born in modern times, Murong Jun, with his supreme pretty-boy looks, could have made a fortune as a child actor, the nation's little brother.

Wait, does that mean he heard my whole lecture on gender equality?
Why did Warrior Green just let it happen? Did he think Junnie absolutely needed to hear it?
Well, any adult with common sense wouldn't be able to stop my beneficial lecture, I suppose.
But surely he wouldn’t go tattling about the loving discipline I administered, despite the heartache it caused me?

"Warrior Green injured his throat before," Murong Jun explained helpfully.

"Hm. Your family must be worried," Qing said, lying back down. "It's late, so hurry inside. You might not need much sleep, but Warrior Green must be tired, right?"

"Warrior Green is always awake at night. Warrior White guards me during the day."

"You always have an answer for everything, don't you......" Qing muttered, sprawled out like a starfish. Sleep had completely abandoned her; her mind was clear. Trying to force herself to sleep now would only result in a brief catnap, leaving her with a headache upon waking. Since it was night and there was nothing else to do, she might as well do some martial arts training.

"I'm going to train now," she announced. "So if you're done with your business, go inside and sleep. You need to sleep at night to grow tall and strong."

"Hasn't Beggar Sis slept too much?" Murong Jun countered.

"What did you say, punk?" Qing shot back. "When I was young, sleeping only one and a half shichen a day was considered a child's virtue. Sleeping more than that meant you wouldn't become a great person."

That damn 'three pass, five fail' bullshit. [[^("Three pass, five fail" (삼당오락 / Samdangorak) refers to a harsh myth from Korea's intense university entrance exam culture, claiming that sleeping 3 hours allows you to pass, while sleeping 5 hours means you'll fail.)] Which bastard came up with that crap.

"Ah! My father said that too," Murong Jun exclaimed. "He said two shichen of sleep is enough, so if you can't sleep, don't force it. If you're bored, you should train." (t/n shichen = 2 hours)

"Is that why you're wandering around now......" Qing sighed. He was a father whose strictness was impossible to gauge. But since the child showed no hesitation when mentioning his father, he must be a father who showered his son with affection.

"Then, train with me!" Murong Jun proposed eagerly. "I'm stronger than the clan's warriors!"

"This one does not deign to cross swords with a mere First-Rate," Qing declared grandly. "How about you strive harder and come back then?"

"But it would be nice to strive together......" he mumbled, disappointed.

Qing let out a chuckle mixed with a snort. "Alright, let's just train. Training is what lasts......"

Murong Jun's father's claim that two shichen of sleep was sufficient was mostly true. For experts who had achieved Overhaul Rebirth, two shichen a day was indeed enough. The same applied to those possessing divine arts exceptionally effective at relieving mental fatigue. Qing fell into both categories, but she simply liked sleeping, so she tended to sleep more than most experts.

In any case, Qing's routine remained the same. She lazed around during the day, ate a hearty dinner, then immediately lay down, clutching her full belly to enjoy an after-meal nap. When she came to her senses, she would swing her sword in the dead of night. There was a high probability Murong Jun would show up at night, and she'd casually spar with him. And there was a low probability Murong Jun would show up during the day, disturbing her sleep and being a nuisance.

"What is it?" Qing grumbled one afternoon. "I need to sleep."

"You said one and a half shichen was enough......" Murong Jun reminded her cheekily.

"I'm making up for the sleep I missed back then," Qing retorted. "Anyway, do you know that person over there?" She pointed to a man standing some distance away, glaring at her as if she were his mortal enemy.

"Ah. That's Warrior White," Murong Jun identified him.

"Then why is he glaring at me like that? Did I do something wrong?"

"It's not that," Murong Jun explained earnestly. "I told Warrior White he should apologize because he called Beggar Sis a dirty whore, and now he's like this. I'm sorry my warrior is a bad adult. I'll apologize instead."

"Aigoo. My goodness. Such a good boy," Qing cooed, ruffling Murong Jun's hair. "Yes, just keep growing up like this. The future of the Orthodox Murim is bright."

At that, Warrior White promptly placed his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

What's he gonna do? Draw it? Qing thought contemptuously.

She shot him a deliberate, mocking smirk, and the man's expression turned sour, like he'd bitten into a bug. Warrior Green, despite his high evil karma, would give a slight bow whenever they made eye contact, which happened occasionally. Yet this bastard, Warrior Baek, brimming with good karma, was a thoroughly ill-mannered lout.

The type to say awful things to a child.

That's why sometimes, even when the kid showed up during the day, Qing would deliberately play along just to annoy Warrior White.

And so, time flew by like an arrow again. Time passes quickly when life is uneventful, not particularly difficult, and follows a regular routine. It's just that as one ages, one becomes accustomed to the ways of the world, and special events become rarer—precisely why time seems to fly faster for adults.

Spring was gradually blooming, making her clothes feel warm. It was hot during the day and cool at night, so Qing, hardened against the cold by harsh training, ripped open the seams and pulled out all the cotton stuffing. It was clothing she planned to discard anyway, so rough handling didn't matter.

"Beggar Sis?" Murong Jun asked one day, noticing the change. "Did you lose weight? Suddenly?"

"It was just the thick clothes," Qing replied. "Hm. But where are you looking? Is the Budding Sex Fiend making a comeback?"

"Ah! Sorry," he quickly averted his gaze. "It was just surprising……. Aren't they heavy?"

"They are," Qing admitted flatly. "But don't stare so obviously, people will talk. Glance. Just a peek. Pretend you're not looking, then glance."

Thanks to Tang Nanah, Qing could now properly distinguish lecherous gazes. His eyes weren't like Tang Nanah's, gleaming with dark, covetous desire, but merely sparkling with genuine childish curiosity. Anyway, fascination never lasts long. And indeed, just as expected, Murong Jun quickly lost interest after a few days and stopped sneaking glances.

The problem was some other bastards.

"Even with your face covered, your figure is quite something," one such man leered one day. "Right, if it's an unsightly sight, just cover it up. Where have you set up your Nail Warehouse?"

"Ah. Could you come over here for a moment?" Qing replied sweetly.

A Nail Warehouse (Jeongbung) meant a nail shed. It implied a place where one could quickly hammer it in like a nail and then pull out – the people of the Central Plains really had a knack for wordplay. Warrior White's assertion that all female beggars were dirty whores was something one shouldn't say to a child, but if one were to judge its truthfulness, it leaned towards being true. Lying on the street and glancing up, her face was covered anyway. But the lines her body traced… wow! Good heavens! How could this be! How is that possible! Naturally, along with the man's lust, something else was bound to rise.

Having moved to an inconspicuous spot in a back alley, Qing delivered a nuclear strike to the crown of the man's head, who was already loosening the drawstring of his pants.

Thwack!

For an instant, it seemed like his head had caved into a concave凹 shape upon impact. This wasn't chastisement, but punishment – the ultimate secret technique of Ximen Surin-style Complete Destruction Head Flick (The Staff of God).

"What's a perfectly healthy bastard like you doing this early in the day?" Qing growled.

"Aargh! I'm dying!" the man shrieked.

"I hit you so you wouldn't die, so get a grip," Qing snapped. "This is what happens when you carelessly hit on people. Got it?"

"You crazy beggar wench, you want to die— Hup." The man choked back his words as Qing casually crushed a pebble in her hand. What had been a stone turned into fine powder, scattering softly. "Your martial arts are profound. You should have said something earlier......" he finished meekly.

"Alright," Qing said, dusting off her hands. "Trying to swing your dick around anywhere can get your actual dick chopped off. You learned a big life lesson today, right? Leave the tuition fee."

"Yes, Teacher. I'll leave it right here," the man stammered, hastily dropping some money.

"Good boy."

Qing, having knocked down three 'staffs' on the very day she removed the cotton padding, thought to herself, This should be enough for rumors to spread about a ferocious female beggar, right? They won't bother me anymore, right?

Qing's thinking was short-sighted. Such a rumor was impossible. What man would admit he got beaten up by a beggar, a female beggar at that, and even paid a hefty tuition fee before running off?

Instead, the opposite rumor spread.

'What, heard you made a haul today? Why are you broke? Said you'd treat, changing your tune now?'

'No, it's just, uh, I gave some alms to that female beggar over there.'

'Female beggar? You little shit. Isn't twenty wen enough? You lost a whole silver sycee? Did you get beaten up and robbed or something?'

'No, it wasn't like that, uh, right, she was just so good, I was moved, so I gave generously.'

'Hm? That good? Should I go check her out too?'

'Uh, well, um? Yeah! You should definitely go. Seriously, once in your life, you have to get hit—no, experience it. For real, I almost went to paradise—no, I took a brief trip there.'

This was because the men, suddenly finding themselves short of funds, had all resorted to similar vague evasions, driven by the childish mentality of 'I can't be the only one to suffer.'

Thus, ten days later, in mid-April, when flowers bloomed extravagantly and spring was radiant, the money Qing had earned solely from 'tuition fees' filled her pouch with silver sycee and coins.

"What the hell is wrong with this town, is everyone in heat?" Qing grumbled after creating another large bump on yet another man's head. "Don't rumors spread? Or do they come wanting to get hit? Even the Black Store is quiet. Should I just quit this beggar act?"

Anyway, maybe because it was spring. Everyone was out, basking in the sun. The place was absolutely teeming with people.

Qing lay comfortably, watching the people go by. Then, suddenly sensing something amiss, she tilted her head.

Huh. Were there always this many women in this city?