Chapter 29: The front of the Yangtze's waves goes blah blah blah

The lavishly spread table was, in reality, a bit of a letdown.

The food, prepared in advance, had gone cold.

The booze was weak, almost non-alcoholic.

Despite all that, Qing was pretty damn happy.

Because it was free!

Besides, it wasn't like she couldn't understand why things were this way.

No fire on board.

No booze while cruising.

Qing stuffed her face.

Had Ximen Surin seen this, she'd have freaked, unleashing a nuclear noogie carpet-bombing annihilation operation.

This is how a beauty of Murim was supposed to eat:

Pick up a morsel the size of a sparrow's tear and gently place it in your mouth.

With lips slightly pursed, chew with tiny jaw movements.

Then, swallow with a somewhat exaggerated motion.

Always maintain a slight frown to prevent wrinkles.

This was the dining style of Xi Shi, the legendary beauty said to possess an absolute beauty that would never be seen again, past or future.

To spread this beautiful dining method, Ximen Surin had armed herself with powerful, subjective nuclear weapons.

That's why Qing could also pull off this so-called beautiful dining style so naturally.

There's no one who can stand up to a hawk.

If there is someone who can withstand a hawk, one should consider whether there were enough hawks.

But Ximen Surin had underestimated Qing.

Her understanding of human correction was a little lacking.

The very idea of turning etiquette and grace into habits was revolutionary enough to make all the masters of Murim rise up and beg to be her students.

And the fruit of that labor was Qing.

Qing had now perfectly mastered forty-two different hairstyles.

She reached the point where, if her hair felt even slightly loose, her hands would instinctively move to fix it.

Her once long strides shortened, and her reckless pace slowed, becoming more ladylike.

She knew how to use her internal energy to smooth out wrinkles in her clothes and could sew up a ripped seam neatly.

But habits ultimately belong to the realm of the unconscious.

And some actions could never become habits because there were desires that transcended the unconscious.

Like, for example, taste.

Qing originally loved the feeling of her mouth crammed with food, the sense of fullness.

Though suppressed by nuclear noogies, now that she was free, there was no need to hold back anymore.

Even Cha Nam-Jeong was a bit taken aback by Qing's voracious appetite.

"Miss, please eat a little slower. There are other dishes..."

"Ah, I'm going to eat those too, so it's fine."

"...?"

A female martial artist, they said.

Was she possessed by a beggar's spirit? Did everything she ate go straight to her chest? How on earth could she eat so much?

Cha Nam-Jeong was starting to get pissed.

What kind of fucking woman was this?!

No charm, no coquettishness.

There was none of that playing coy, sucking up to him for the position of Bujal Dowisa's daughter-in-law!

This was no fun.

The moment the mask of seduction slipped off, that was the important moment.

It would be even better if she hurled insults and resisted, or cried and begged for her life.

But she was completely preoccupied with food, so how could he not be angry?

Cha Nam-Jeong's insides were boiling.

But as Qing, having more or less filled her belly, started to enjoy her drink, his anger vanished as if it had never been.

Qing's way of leisurely sipping her drink was the area least affected by Ximen Surin's harsh nuclear noogies.

Moreover, Qing had learned the White Hand Demonic Arts.

One might wonder what the hell demonic arts had to do with drinking, but one of the characteristics of the White Hand Demonic Arts was the beautiful shape of the hands.

The most elegant and beautiful hands in the world, yet also the cruelest.

This phrase was always used to describe the White Hand Demonic Arts.

The skin of her hands was so pale it was almost transparent.

The sight of her slender, long, and gracefully stretched fingers gently holding the wine cup was the very essence of sensual beauty.

Leaning against the railing and drinking, Qing's profile alone exuded an enchanting aura that could seduce any man.

Feeling the rising spirit of his swelling manhood, Cha Nam-Jeong approached with a sleazy smile.

"Enjoying the drink?"

"I wish it was a bit stronger."

The drink was so weak it didn't even feel like alcohol.

"Well, I don't want you to get drunk. A woman who's drunk and out of her mind isn't any fun."

"Fun? What fun?"

"Well..."

The men who had been at the ship's edge started to get up and slowly approach.

They surrounded Qing and drew their swords.

"Oh."

Qing clutched her pounding heart.

Was it finally starting? Were they going to kill each other now?

"One hour. I'll give you exactly one hour."

"One hour?"

"We'll leave after one hour, so try to run wherever you like. If you hold out for half a hour, I'll let you go unharmed. I promise."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you'll be sharing the joy of lovemaking with all of us today."

Wow. This wasn't some half-assed plan.

Qing was impressed.

So I can relax and enjoy myself too, then.

"Ah, by the way, I wouldn't recommend jumping off the ship at this point. This is Seolryeong Gorge. It would be a rather painful way to end your own life."

Seolryeong Gorge was known for its treacherous currents.

The water flowed differently at the top and bottom, and whirlpools that plunged and surged were scattered everywhere.

As a result, even the river water had a muddy yellow color.

It was a dangerous area where even most martial artists would be swept away, unable to swim.

"Hmm."

Qing slowly walked forward.

The men with swords tilted their bodies as if to make way.

They didn't move aside, but it was like they were saying, "If you want to pass, try rubbing against us."

Qing didn't pass between them.

Instead, she grabbed the blade of a man's sword with her bare hand.

And then, as if snapping off a twig with a flower, she effortlessly broke the sword.

Qing clenched and unclenched the hand that had held the blade.

The thin, long, crumpled blade fell to the floor with a thud.

The playful, snickering atmosphere among the men instantly froze.

Qing carefully examined the palm of her hand that had crushed the blade.

There wasn't even a scratch, not even a dent.

Only then did Qing break into a satisfied smile.

Yeah, that's it.

This is why I learn purple martial arts.

"So, you see? You rapist bastards. Acting all high and mighty. Where the hell am I supposed to run to on this cramped ship? Fly up to the sky? Or into the ground... Well, there's no ground here. Anyway. You guys with dicks, instead of fighting fair and square with a manly confession attack... You're putting the entire dick-kind to shame. I'm embarrassed for you, really."

What the hell was going on?

The men's eyes darted between Qing and what used to be a blade.

"Oh my? Still haven't come to your senses? You little shits."

Qing's hand shot upwards and then plunged downwards.

Four fingers gently dug into the crown of the man's head.

Past the skull, they churned through his brain.

From the eye sockets and cheekbones, through the upper jaw and teeth, down to the lower jawbone.

Scooping out like fine sand, the fingers slipped out from the front of the throat.

The man, with four deep furrows carved into his face, collapsed on the spot.

The corpse twitched.

His nerves weren't quite dead yet.

Four deep, furrowed wounds on the corpse's head.

And his swollen insides were bulging out.

Oh dear, oh dear.

Qing shuddered.

She had used the entire length of her long, slender fingers to go in and out of someone's head.

This wasn't some metaphor.

It was a literal visit.

There was a deep thrill in digging into the bone.

A wave of intense heat spread through her body from her dantian.

A sweetness far more intoxicating than that weak drink swept through her nerves, tingling and stirring.

So a real sword and bare hands are completely different.

It's like the difference between wearing gloves and picking your nose.

Qing's lips stretched to her ears in a wide grin.

"Still can't figure out the situation? Not running away? Good. Go! My Moonlight Sword... is over there. Again."

Qing repeatedly clenched and unclenched her fists as she spoke again.

"Now, my Moonlight Hand is starving. Hide well. Don't let me see a single hair."

Cha Nam-Jeong couldn't understand the current situation.

What had gone wrong, and where?

"What is she?! What the hell is that woman?! Is she even human?! She's a crazy bitch!"

"It seems we've fucked with the wrong person."

"What are you doing here! She's just a woman! Why aren't you grabbing her and bringing her here?! Just kill her! I don't want that kind of slut . I don't want her."

The bodyguard shrank his neck.

"Young Master, that woman is a real expert..."

"What? So you're saying you're a fake expert? She's just one woman! How many men are here?"

"Young Master, when you hit a person's head, it usually cracks or explodes, right?"

"Of course."

"But that woman... she scooped out the bones and flesh like it was clay. You couldn't even do that with a sword."

The bodyguard shuddered.

Even if it were possible, actually doing it was a different matter.

The bodyguard was genuinely terrified.

Only then did Cha Nam-Jeong's anger fade, leaving only a pale, white face.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Even if all the guys here combined their strength, they couldn't win. Absolutely no chance. We've really fucked up this time."

"Wh-what are you talking about?! You clearly said she was an easy woman!"

"That's not important. What's important is that even a top martial artist would hesitate to make an enemy of the regional enforcer[^I got no clue. Translated from Bujal Dowisa/Buchal Defense Commissioner]."

Cha Nam-Jeong's face brightened as he exclaimed,

"Then?"

"First, try to appease her and lure her with wealth. Judging by her eating habits, she seems to be from some poor sect. I'm sure we can settle this with money."

"Do you think so? You think that'll work?"

Just then,

Knock, knock, knock. A knock on the door.

-Excuse me, is anyone in there? I thought I heard voices murmuring in here...

Cha Nam-Jeong and the bodyguard covered their mouths.

-No one? Did I hear wrong...?

After a "That's strange," silence fell.

For a long while, the two kept their mouths covered, then slowly lowered their hands.

Suddenly, fingers sprouted from the cabin door.

Silently, as if passing through the door, they slid through.

Then the fingers moved downwards.

A long crack followed in their wake, like a tail.

Exchanging hurried glances, the two plastered themselves against the wall where the door was attached.

A terrifying presence was felt from beyond the door.

It was a truly overwhelming killing intent.

-No one here? I waited for nothing. I thought you were pretending to be gone.

Only then did the sound of footsteps slowly fade away.

Once again, the two men imitated statues for a long time.

After well over a hour had passed, they finally let out gasps of relief.

"Is that a human or a ghost?"

"I don't know. The martial world is so vast..."

The bodyguard suddenly stopped speaking.

"Young Master..."

"What?"

"When walking inside the ship... do you hear footsteps?"

"Of course you hear footsteps when walking! Why are you suddenly..."

"Well... usually, there's the sound of wood creaking..."

"Huh?"

The two men froze at the same time.

Cold sweat poured down like a waterfall.

They creaked as they turned towards the door.

And there, through the long, vertical hole in the cabin door,

Their eyes met the gaze of something watching them.

-Oh, here you are?