Chapter 60: Qing's Return

“Explain. In detail.”

“Well, it was about the Demon Cult’s Demonic Cult’s Vanguard… Wave? Assault Unit?”

Qing tilted her head.

Wait. Was that really what it was called?

It felt like a mix between the first and second battalions… but also kind of right?

She rewound her memories for a moment.

Meanwhile, Ximen Surin was completely stunned.

From the very first words out of Qing’s mouth, her breath had caught in her throat.

“…The Demon Cult! Those damned freaks!”

“They were real pieces of shit, too.”

There wasn’t a single one among them with low karma.

Qing had heard that the Demon Cult was just a nest of irredeemable bastards—and it turned out to be 100% accurate.

“Well, it happened when I, um, entered some city. There was this old lady…”

Casually, Qing skipped over the name of the city.

Reciting specific place names was something only novel protagonists seemed capable of.

In the same way, she artfully omitted names while recounting her grand saga of obtaining the flute.

…Though she did take some creative liberties with the storytelling.

The Demon Cult’s invincible Raging Army!

Like Zhang Fei holding off the enemy at Changban[^Historical Battle of Changban], Qing stood alone, cutting down foes left and right.

The Demon Cult’s warriors pissed themselves in terror, fleeing in disgrace.

Thus, the mighty disciple pursued them like a raging storm!

Finally, she cornered their leader—a fiend who had been in the middle of raiding a tomb.

And then, she cut down the supreme commander of the—

“…Wait. You’re saying the commander of a Demon Cult battle unit was at the Transcendent Realm?”

Ximen Surin’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve never heard of any elite force called the Vanguard Assault Unit.”

Qing froze.

…Shit. She knew about the Demon Cult’s battle units.

“…He wasn’t quite Transcendent. More like… a really maxed-out Peak Realm expert?”

Feeling cornered, Qing subtly shifted her story from a heroic tale to a firsthand experience.

She included the part where she threatened to let one of them live, only for the soldiers to immediately stab their commander in the back—completely devoid of loyalty.

“…Yes. That’s just how Demon Cult bastards are. Oh-hoh! My disciple’s achievements are truly magnificent! It seems a heroic female warrior is finally rising in Jianghu!”

Ximen Surin was delighted.

Qing, on the other hand, found it a little awkward to celebrate with her.

“However, my disciple’s skills are still lacking. It is not yet time for your name to be widely known.”

“But… I am at late Peak Realm, though.”

“That’s all? Any decent city guard division should have at least one Peak Realm master. How could my poor, frail, sickly disciple possibly stand out…?”

Countless Peak Realm experts across Jianghu wept in their hearts.

If a twenty-year-old girl was considered weak for being at late Peak Realm, then what about the average martial artist, who only reached Peak Realm at fifty and celebrated it like a miracle?

…Then again, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

The enemies Qing had to face weren’t going to be limited to people her age.

Martial arts in Jianghu had never been at a higher level.

Thanks to the Martial Celestial Emperor, who had secured Murim’s freedom from the government, the strength of martial artists had risen dramatically.

Feeling deeply wronged, the frail, sickly Qing protested.

“Still! I actually beat a Transcendent Realm master, you know?”

“Oh? A Transcendent Realm master should have had a martial title. What was his name?”

“…Demonic Cannibal.”

“…?”

Ximen Surin had been expecting some no-name fraud.

But instead, Qing dropped a name she recognized.

That infamous monster—a man with a brutal reputation and a realm that had long surpassed mid-Transcendent.

“…What in the world are you saying? Demonic Cannibal?”

“Well, it happened at Dongting Lake—oh, do you know Dongting Lake? It’s so massive that I thought it was an ocean at first.”

“…Is there anyone in Jianghu who doesn’t know Dongting Lake?”

Ah. She knew Dongting Lake, too.

Qing sighed in disappointment, unable to show off her knowledge.

“So… Demonic Cannibal. Did you completely finish him off?”

"Yeah! Just like you taught me, Master, I went all 'ppang' with that Internal Explosive Qi technique, and he totally blew to pieces!!"

“…I don’t like the way you phrase things. But—well done. Demonic bastards like him are even insignificant than bugs. You have to eliminate them completely or they come back like cockroaches”

Ximen Surin nodded approvingly.

But then, a suspicion arose.

“…Hold on. Even if you used Internal Explosive Qi technique, no matter how deep your internal energy runs, that alone shouldn’t have been enough to bridge the gap in power.”

“Oh! About that! You know Buddha Divine Palm?”

“…?”

“It’s crazy strong. I just went BAM! And Demonic Cannibal went BOOM! That’s what happened.”

Qing swung her arm for emphasis, making an exaggerated BOOM sound.

At the same time, a cute bell chime rang—doooong, doooong.

“…?”

Ximen Surin was utterly baffled.

Buddha Divine Palm.

A legendary Shaolin technique.

But… a lost art.

It had disappeared from Shaolin’s teachings, its place taken by Hundred Step Divine Fist.

Hundred Step Divine Fist was similar to Buddha Divine Palm, but—

It had better synergy with Shaolin martial arts, and its range and power exceeded it.

Thus, Shaolin’s direct disciples had all chosen Hundred Step Divine Fist, leaving Buddha Divine Palm to be forgotten.

And yet—

Her own disciple, who wasn’t even part of Shaolin, was casually claiming she used it?

A long-lost supreme technique of Shaolin—one that had already disappeared from existence.

And yet, here was her disciple, casually using it?

It would have been easy to dismiss as a boast, but she had personally heard the chime of a sacred bell—a hallmark of true Buddhist supreme arts.

“…What in the world…”

Ximen Surin was thrown into complete confusion.

But her internal energy was deep and refined—the highest among living seniors in Jianghu—so she quickly regained her composure.

“…Well, what’s the problem? The bald-headed monks of Shaolin abandoned their own teachings. So what if my disciple happens to inherit a lost art? They have no right to complain.”

Her expression brightened.

“Serves them right. Those damned monks always treated women as if they were some kind of demonic temptresses. And now, one of their sacred techniques has been passed down to a woman! Ha! The irony is absolutely delicious. My disciple is truly a blessing in my old age. How could you be so adorable?”

To Ximen Surin, Shaolin had always been a bunch of arrogant bastards who refused to let women set foot in their temple.

As if women were actively trying to seduce their monks or something. Bald-headed fools.

Qing had no idea how to respond to yet another one of her master’s radical feminist rants.

And in times like these—smiling was the safest option.

“Hehehe…”

“…I’ve told you not to laugh like that. It makes you look—hngh. Never mind. If those damned monks ever try to start a fight with you over that technique, just mention my name. Let’s see them try to talk back.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Well, everyone has their circumstances. I won’t ask where you learned it. But tell me, have you picked up any other techniques?”

Qing hesitated.

Her master seemed happy about Buddha Divine Palm—so maybe her demonic arts would slide by as well?

If she got caught later, it would be worse.

And Ximen Surin’s medical expertise was already at insane levels—if she used her techniques in front of her master, she’d be exposed instantly.

Might as well confess while she was still in a good mood.

“Um… Master, I kind of, uh… picked up a demonic art.”

“A demonic art?”

Ximen Surin’s eyebrows twitched violently.

Qing shrunk back.

Seeing that, Ximen Surin softened slightly.

“…Well, I suppose it’s understandable. A young girl wandering Jianghu alone… it makes sense to pick up something dangerous for self-defense.”

A martial artist must have a hidden trump card—a final move to protect their life.

In that sense, a single demonic art wasn’t too alarming.

At least, that was what Ximen Surin thought at first.

“…Which demonic art is it?”

Meanwhile, Qing let out a deep sigh of relief.

Oh. This is working!

“Yes! It’s the White Hand Demonic Arts!”

Qing cheerfully announced it.

She had complete trust in her master’s affection.

…Trust that was immediately betrayed.

CRACK!!!

“AAAHHHH!!”

A scream like that of a frog being stomped on echoed through the room.

For a moment, Qing genuinely thought her skull had cracked open.

She clutched her head, rolling on the floor.

Her entire face flushed red, her eyes welled up with tears, and snot began dripping from her nose.

Her mind went completely blank, leaving behind nothing but pure, unfiltered pain—the kind that bordered on torture.

FUCK!

THAT HURT!

DID SHE JUST BREAK MY HEAD OPEN?!

Normally, Ximen Surin would have just launched a nuclear noogie.

But unfortunately—

She had been holding the flute Qing gifted her.

And as history has proven, flutes are the most lethal weapon a master can wield against their disciple.

Moreover, this was no ordinary flute—it was Bokshinjeok, forged from Eternal Cold Iron—a solid chunk of indestructible metal.

“Oh my! Are you okay!?”

Ximen Surin immediately regretted it.

She had completely forgotten that she was holding the ten-thousand-year-old iron club.

She had failed to control her strength.

It was like dropping an 18,300-pound tungsten rod from orbit—a strike that could only be described as divine punishment.

Truly a power worthy of being called God’s staff!

If it hadn’t been for Qing’s high bone strength stat, a catastrophe would have occurred where the master would have cracked her disciple’s noggin.

Actually, even if she had broken her head, it would have been a guiltless situation.

Her disciple had learned the White Hand Demonic Arts.

A disciple shaming both her master and sect—there were limits to what could be forgiven.

“…Stop whining and get up.”

“Master… this… this really hurts…”

A single tear rolled down Qing’s cheek.

Ximen Surin let out a long sigh.

“…Where did you even learn the White Hand Demonic Arts? No—more importantly, what the hell were you thinking when you decided to learn such a vile technique?”

“I… didn’t know it was bad…”

Qing felt wronged.

She was from another world—one that existed beyond timelines, dimensions, or even computer screens.

And compared to her previous world, the way Jianghu spoke was so over-the-top that it felt comically exaggerated.

In her original world, people casually insulted each other in ways that would be considered atrocious in Jianghu.

Even if friends exchanged foul language, no one lost their minds over it.

And out of all countries, Korea was notorious for being incredibly lenient with extreme language.

So, to Qing—the words "demonic art" didn’t sound that bad.

If it had been called something like ‘Trash Human Art’, ‘Bastard Technique’, or ‘Life Sentence Style’, maybe she would have avoided it.

But to a video game nerd who knew nothing about Wuxia, "demonic arts" and "magic" just sounded like two techniques from the same “Ma” family. [^mabeop – Magic, magong – Demonic Arts.

Qing (who doesn’t know wuxia/murim tropes) sees "마공" and "마법" and lumps them together because both start with “마 (Ma),” meaning "demonic" or "magic."]

So of course, she didn’t see the issue.

"What am I going to do with this lacking girl..."

Ximen Surin let out a deep, exhausted sigh, feeling too drained to say anything else.