Chapter 5: Friends
Pang Daesan, the Jade Qilin.
The Handsomest Man Under Heaven.
Peng Daesan hated these titles.
He was absolutely sick of them.
He got them just because he was good-looking.
Just because his face was too damn nice.
Anyone who’d smile and accept such a title had no right to call themselves a warrior of Murim.
Peng Daesan was twenty-two years old.
At the mere age of twenty-two, he had reached mid-peak realm.
A true martial genius, and undoubtedly the most outstanding talent of his generation.
And yet, what? Jade Qilin? The Most Handsome Man Under Heaven?
What kind of disgrace was this?
Just look at brat, Namgung Shin-jae from the Namgung Clan.
That guy barely made it to the early Peak Realm, yet his title was Young Sword King.
It meant he was the next Sword King.
And the worst part? Namgung Shin-jae was a year older than him!
That guy got Young Sword King, while he got Jade Qilin?!
That was the beginning of Pang Daesan’s rebellion.
Not too much, though—his nature was still fundamentally disciplined.
Instead, he simply discarded all sense of courtesy when it came to women.
Honestly, it wasn’t entirely his fault.
Peng Daesan was the most eligible bachelor in Murim.
First, he was ridiculously handsome.
His voice? Smooth as silk.
He was the eldest son of one of the top five clans in the Central Plains.
And on top of that, the Peng Clan was famously the only one among the Five Great Clans that did not arrange political marriages.
Of course, they kept up this tradition because they found it amusing to mock the other Great Clans for being small-minded, petty, foolish, and stingy enough to trade marriages like business deals.
"The Peng Clan has no need for anything but true love!"
Unlike you guys, apparently.
Oh, and let’s not forget—Peng Daesan was strong.
And he was only going to get stronger.
With looks, status, wealth, and martial prowess, it was no wonder that every waking moment (and sometimes even when he was asleep), he was bombarded with the gazes of women.
Some were subtle, simply staring from afar.
Those were the reasonable ones.
The rest? A complete mess.
Wherever he walked, the ground was littered with embroidered handkerchiefs, scented pouches, silk daggers, and even—gag—scandalous undergarments.
Thus, Peng Daesan never lowered his head.
He only walked straight ahead, eyes forward.
The more proactive women even attempted to accidentally bump into him.
As if colliding with a Peak Realm master by "accident" would somehow lead to romance.
As if he’d actually catch them before they fell.
What an overinflated sense of self-importance.
Peng Daesan always found himself torn between laughing or sneering when he saw these women land face-first on the ground.
He had been suffering from extreme peach blossom misfortune since childhood.
An affliction so severe it might as well have been a curse.
And so, before he knew it, he had become increasingly rude to women.
He had lost all patience.
It was his way of saying, I am not interested. Get lost.
So when A-Qing approached him, he wasn’t even surprised.
He had already witnessed every absurd attempt at romance under the sun.
At this point, he even had a mental classification system for them.
If he had to categorize A-Qing, she was a mix of bold woman and funny woman.
There weren’t many successful cases in the funny woman category, so he had to admit—A-Qing had managed to catch his attention.
He actually laughed for the first time in a while.
What he didn’t expect was Asura.
A joke so outrageous it felt downright blasphemous.
And then came the rough woman approach.
Though, to be fair, it was less bold and more thug from the back alleys.
And then—she punched him in the face.
What the hell?
Was this one of those ridiculous romance stories where the guy falls for the first woman who dares to hit him?
As a result, Pang Daesan was genuinely pissed off.
His already deep voice dropped even lower, thick with fury.
"I swear, I have met all kinds of insane women, but this—"
There was a faint killing intent in his voice.
That killing intent triggered something.
A-Qing’s Heavenly Slaughtering Star stirred.
A-Qing liked to think she was in control when she shed blood.
That it was her way of relieving stress over Murim’s endless nonsense.
A healthy, active coping mechanism.
But in truth, once triggered, the killing intent of the Heavenly Slaughtering Star overwhelmed her, turning her into a true lunatic.
A passive, uncontrollable killing impulse.
The moment one was intoxicated by the slaughter aura, they would begin to find joy in bloodshed and carnage.
"Why are you mad? What, you think lowering your voice makes you intimidating? Pfft Hahaha."
"Don’t mimic me."
"Oh, what’re you gonna do about it? You wanna hit me?"
When it came to the art of provocation, few could rival the people of modern Korea.
Pang Daesan trembled with fury.
The sheer rage consumed him.
"I will not tolerate any further insults."
"Oh nooo, don’t tolerate meee. Better go eat some tuna, grandpa — Hey!"
CLANG!
Clang! Their weapons clashed, producing a sharp ring.
"You struck first? That means this is self-defense. You’re serious, huh? Fine, why waste time talking when we have swords?"
"I won’t kill you. But I will cut off that reckless tongue of yours."
"Oh yeah? You got the skills to back that up? Here, come on, cut it off. Bleh—"
A-Qing stuck out her tongue.
Her unusually red tongue flickered mischievously.
"Bleh, bleh, bleh—"
But she didn’t retract it.
It just… stayed out for way too long.
Does this lunatic have no concept of moderation?
What kind of crazy woman was this?
At this point, Peng Daesan wasn’t even sure anymore.
His fury had reached its peak, his sword already drawn—but somehow, A-Qing was the one acting more unhinged.
The sheer absurdity of the situation drained him.
But he couldn’t back down now.
His pride as a mid-stage Peak Realm master wouldn’t allow it.
He would simply have to demonstrate a fraction of his true power…
Just as he made up his mind, sword threads appeared around Qing’s blade.
The delicate, flowing white strands were strikingly clear.
A swordmaster’s technique. A skill only those at the late Peak Realm could wield.
Peng Daesan studied Qing’s face.
She was still childishly sticking out her tongue, making him feel embarrassed on her behalf.
But then, as he observed her youthful face—barely past the cusp of girlhood—another thought struck him.
Beyond the Peak Realm lay the Harmonization Realm.
Also called the Transformation Realm, it was a divine boundary one could reach by shattering the wall of limits.
Upon reaching it, one’s body would, just once, reverse time and regain its youth.
This was known as Rejuvenation.
Those who underwent Rejuvenation were no longer truly human.
They were monsters clad in human skin.
A battle could only occur between beings of the same kind.
A human and a monster? That was no battle—it was a massacre.
"So… which realm of expertise have you ascended from, Senior?"
"Huh? That’s it? You’re stopping here? Damn, you’re like a guy who stops mid-shit."
What kind of woman spoke like that?
But if she had achieved Rejuvenation, then… well, maybe it made sense.
Now that he thought about it, his grandmother spoke like that too.
Maybe women just got more foul-mouthed as they aged.
"Let me reintroduce myself. I am Peng Daesan of the Peng Clan."
"I’m A-Qing."
At some point, their speech levels had flipped.
Qing grinned in satisfaction.
Oh ho. This bastard got scared.
As expected, in Murim, strength was the law.
Peng Daesan’s misunderstanding didn’t last longer than half an hour.
A-Qing was utterly, profoundly clueless whenever she opened her mouth.
No, rather than clueless, it was more of a… fundamental lack of common sense.
Anyone who didn’t know better would assume she was simply uneducated.
He wasn’t even sure how or why he had misunderstood her anymore.
So the misunderstanding was easily cleared up.
But after that, Peng Daesan faced a new crisis.
Wait, was this crazy woman actually stronger than him?
"Pardon me, miss, but… how old are you?"
"Me? I’m…"
Qing hesitated.
Saying she was in her mid-thirties felt wrong.
Not that anyone would believe her anyway.
It wasn’t like she’d ever met anyone who pretended to believe her.
But calling herself an elder while looking like a kid? That felt wrong too.
A kid.
To her, a man in his early twenties was still a kid.
A typical modern Korean mindset.
Besides, it’s not like he was stronger than her. He was just a bit rich.
"Why don’t you say your age first, Pang?"
"I am twenty-two."
"I’m twenty-five."
"…Seriously? You swear?"
Peng Daesan’s skeptical gaze bore into her.
"I just have a baby face."
"Really?"
"Mm."
Lying too much built up bad karma.
Technically, claiming to be in her thirties wasn’t entirely false.
She could say it with a straight face.
No one believed her, though.
But if she had to state the age of this body?
It wasn’t worth racking up bad karma over something so trivial.
So Qing answered honestly.
"…Actually, I don’t know. Maybe seventeen? I might just be precocious, or I might actually be twenty-five but just look young."
"How do you not know your own age? No, wait."
Peng Daesan almost instinctively asked again, but then stopped himself.
A-Qing’s name meant blue-clothed girl.
It was also the title of a legendary female swordmaster from the Spring and Autumn period—Yue Maiden.
The Yue Maiden was said to have appeared in the kingdom of Yue during its crisis, passing down the Sword Art of the Moon Maiden.
However, the techniques were so mystical and difficult that no one could fully master them.
They merely recorded the movements they could grasp, forming a sword manual from mere fragments.
And even that had produced legendary warriors.
Armed with those techniques, Yue waged war and destroyed Wu.
Thus, the name Qing was a title revered by female warriors in Murim.
A symbol of strength and aspiration.
And yet, this woman had taken such an obvious name as her own.
On top of that, she didn’t even know her own age?!
Peng Daesan’s mind raced.
Could she be an orphan who had wandered Murim since childhood?
But this time, it wasn’t an easy misunderstanding to clear.
He couldn’t exactly ask if she had no parents.
Maybe that’s why Asura spoke so seriously earlier.
Maybe a girl who grew up alone wouldn’t know her own origins.
A surname wasn’t just a name—it was pride and lineage.
To not even know that?
And her crude, uneducated way of speaking!
Her utter lack of refinement!
"No, I misspoke. My apologies."
"Huh? Why do I suddenly feel pissed off…?"
Qing tilted her head.
A vague sense of irritation crept over her.
What was this? Was her status window about to bug out again?
"Whatever. We seem to be about the same age, so let’s just be friends."
"Friends…?"
This was the first time Pang Daesan had been called a peer by someone his age.
Was it just him, or was her vocabulary kind of… off?
Not that she cared.
Qing had an ulterior motive.
He was obviously some rich young master.
If she made friends with him, she could mooch off him.
Calling him little brother would be too weird.
And she wasn’t about to call some kid her senior.
"Got it? We’re friends now, right? You understand, San?"
Peng Daesan hesitated.
Men and women were supposed to maintain proper boundaries.
"Uh, miss? Even as friends, isn’t calling me San a bit…"
"When I say San, you say Qing! That’s how it works. San?"
"But men and women shouldn’t be so—"
"Hey, friendship isn’t about gender."
"Isn’t it usually the other way around?"
Qing replied confidently.
"Exactly! And that’s why overcoming it is what makes true friendship!"
"Huh?"
Weirdly enough… that almost made sense.
"Got it? San? San? San? San?"
She was unbearably loud and persistent.
It was clear she wouldn’t stop until he played along.
Resigned, Peng Daesan sighed.
"…Qing."
"Louder! Again! San?"
"…Qing."
"Still can’t hear you. San?"
"Qing! Qing! Fine, just stop shouting already!"
Qing beamed in satisfaction.
