Chapter 61: Qing's Return

Qing rubbed her head vigorously.

Honestly, rubbing the wound wouldn’t make it better.

But what else could she do? It hurt too much.

Damn, it still hurts...

Did my scalp split open?

Qing kept rubbing and checking her hand periodically.

She was looking for any signs of blood.

Surprisingly, her hand was clean.

But this pain feels like something tore... That’s weird.

To be fair, Qing did have a tendency to exaggerate pain.

But this time, she really seemed to be hurting.

Watching that pitiful sight, a pang of sympathy welled up in Ximen Surin’s heart.

Just as parents can’t win against their children, a true master can’t always win against their disciple.

"Haah. Fine. Even though you’ve learned demonic arts, I don’t see any malice in your gaze. That means you’re being careful enough."

It was an absurd misunderstanding, but at least she was saying she’d let it slide.

Qing’s face lit up as she replied.

"Right? If no one catches me, it’s all good—."

THWACK!!

“Argh! Y-you hit me again... Ugh…”

Qing, being her usual self, just had to add an unnecessary remark and promptly earned another noogie.

A single tear rolled down her cheek... again.

Ximen Surin shook her head.

"Fine. As long as you’re careful… As long as you’re careful..."

Her voice trailed off.

No matter how careful, could she really handle that vile Demonic Hand?

It made sense why Qing’s hands looked unusually delicate.

"The White Hand Demonic Arts carve into flesh and bone, accumulating malice. A person gradually becomes more wicked, and in the end, they turn into a monster that finds joy in killing. You must remember that and only use it in true emergencies."

Truthfully, by that logic, Qing was already fucked.

The so-called "monster that specializes in killing villains" responded cheerfully.

"Yes, Master!"

"Right. You’ve already learned it, so what can I do now?"

It’s not like she could just cripple Qing’s dantian and sever her limbs to cut off the demonic arts at the root.

If those sanctimonious pricks from the Murim Alliance found out, they’d sure as hell try to do just that.

As that thought crossed Ximen Surin’s mind, she found herself getting quietly irritated.

I mean, what’s the big deal if my foolish disciple picked up a bit of demonic arts?

Despite being Heavenly Slaughtering Star, she’s still such a good kid.

This was coming from someone who had slaughtered more demonic cultivators than she could count.

"Alright. If you ever get caught using that demonic art, there’s one thing you must remember."

"What is it?"

"Just deny everything."

"...Huh?"

Ximen Surin spoke again, completely serious.

"Just claim it’s not demonic arts. Hmm... Yeah, let’s say it’s some sacred technique from a saintess or something."

In other words, just keep insisting it wasn’t what it looked like.

Qing thought about it.

So even in Murim, the one with the louder voice wins, huh?

"Uh… Is that really okay?"

"Of course not. But if they press the issue, just say it’s a technique this master invented. What can they do then? Those lowly fools wouldn’t dare."

Qing had no idea, but this was the equivalent of a renowned master staking their entire reputation to take the fall for her.

"Do you really think they won’t find out?"

Ximen Surin smiled faintly.

"That’s why you need to start practicing now."

"Practice?"

"Yes, my dear disciple. Your inner energy is fundamentally Pure Yang, which is completely at odds with the Sinister Yin foundation of the White Hand Demonic Arts."

Ximen Surin began her lesson.

The balance of Yin and Yang is divided into four major categories.

• The energy of the sun is Yang.
• It is hot, making it Pure Yang.
• It is bright and upright, making it Righteous Yang.
• The energy of the moon is Yin.
• It is dark and sinister, making it Sinister Yin.
• It is cold, making it Pure Yin.

With the principles of neutrality, these categories further divide into eight.

Since neutrality itself is not considered an inherent trait, there are eight divisions:

• Extreme Yang: Hot and bright
• Pure Yang: Just hot
• Righteous Yang: Clear and upright
• Sinister Yang: Hot yet sinister
• Neutral: Neutral
• Sinister Yin: Dark and sinister
• Righteous Yin: Bright yet cold
• Pure Yin: Just cold
• Extreme Yin: Cold and dark

This classification is represented in Yin-Yang Taiji[^Diagram of Yin and Yang, opposites in a circle, show balance and constant change.], where Yang energy is red, and Yin energy is blue.

This is also why the Eight Trigrams originated from Yin and Yang.

Adding the Five Elements (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) into the mix, it forms the fundamental principle of the universe.

Ximen Surin had previously examined Qing’s meridians and confirmed that the "Heart Sutra of the Yue Maiden" follows the path of neutrality.

Meanwhile, "Nourishing True Soul Sutra[^Both techniques are from Chapter 26]", which carries the will of Shennong the Flame Emperor, embodies Righteous Yang.

Even the "Heavenly Love's Heart Technique", a lesser technique, followed the same path.

This meant that Qing’s internal energy was completely skewed towards Righteous Yang.

The proof of this was her crimson sword aura.

"The White Hand Demonic Arts are built upon Sinister Yin. If you can manipulate only your Righteous Yang energy, the traces of demonic arts will change."

By isolating her Righteous Yang, she could still use the technique without it appearing demonic.

That way, even if she insisted it wasn’t a demonic art, it wouldn’t be a complete lie.

"Then how do I train for that?"

"Fortunately, it’s winter, isn’t it? You’re quite lucky, my disciple. Yin and Yang clash most violently during extreme seasons. In the cold of winter, Yang energy naturally rises."

"So… winter is the best time for training?"

"Then, the training isn’t that difficult. In fact, it’s quite simple."

Simple training?!

Qing’s face brightened.

"Then, Master, what should I do?"

Ximen Surin replied,

"Take off your clothes."

"...Huh?"

Wait, did she hear that right?

That sounded... odd.

Qing hesitated, unsure.

Ximen Surin repeated with a serene smile,

"In the cold, warmth can only be truly felt."

"Oh, you mean…"

Ximen Surin’s smile deepened.

"That’s right. You’ll simply experience the world’s Yin energy directly on your bare skin. Is there an easier training method than this?"

A house isn’t just a place where people live.

It holds a far greater significance.

If one were to put it in a single phrase, it would be this:

A warm and comfortable haven.

So, a house that is neither warm nor comfortable isn’t a home at all.

It’s just a prison that makes one restless and uneasy.

By that definition, Qing had lost her home.

"It’s so cold…"

Qing shivered violently.

This was the home she had finally secured!

And yet—
She wasn’t allowed to light a fire.
She had to get rid of all her blankets.
Even the doors and windows had been removed.

And to top it all off, the only piece of clothing she was given was a thin scrap of fabric with shoulder straps.

If clothing had originally been invented to protect the body, then this thing couldn’t be called clothing at all.

Even her undergarments had been confiscated.

And at the mountaintop of the Saintess’ Peak, the winter winds were merciless.

It didn’t just cut through the skin—it dug into it.

The bitter wind crawled up and down her body.
But even without the wind, the thin cloth was so airy that the cold breezes passed through as if they were entering through an open gate.

‘I’d spill the base location, the cipher codes, anything,
Just… please… give me a blanket…’

Wait, no.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

This is training?!

Wouldn’t it be better to just run away?

However, despite her anger, the results were remarkable.

Qing was still alive.

Even a martial master can only endure so much cold.

Surviving midwinter in a nearly transparent scrap of fabric?
That should have been impossible.

At first, when she thought, Oh, this is it. I’m going to die, a sudden burst of heat surged through her body, wrapping around her like a protective shield.

But it was just enough to keep her from dying—nothing more.
The moment she felt slightly warmed, the heat would fade away like a cruel joke.

And so, a month and a half passed.

By now, Qing had become quite skilled in handling Righteous Yang energy.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t cold.

She could just barely maintain her body heat.

As a result, Qing had practically become the very definition of an earthquake.

If someone asked, What is an earthquake?, they could just point at Ximen Qing.

Even Jin Jangmyeong, who came to deliver her food, couldn’t help but stare.

"Are you cold?"

“I-I-I’m g-gonna d-die f-f-from th-this…”

"Then, Unni, do you want me to hug you?"

"Uh…"

Qing hesitated.

But the law was strict, and the heavens and earth were still watching.

Unlike before, this wasn’t an emergency where she had to seek warmth for survival.

How could she shamelessly embrace a minor?

Of course, child protection laws didn’t exist in Murim.
The Laws on the Protection of Minors only existed in Qing’s imagination.

"I-I can’t…"

"Tch."

"B-but… don’t tell me… today’s lunch is…"

Jin Jangmyeong opened the lunchbox.

"Cold noodles. Cold cuts."

"A-ah… p-please…"

A single tear rolled down Qing’s cheek.

In ancient Murim, "cold noodles" simply referred to any kind of noodles served in chilled broth.

And now, an enormous three-tiered lunchbox contained not only cold noodles, but cold vegetables and various chilled meats.

Please… something warm… just one warm meal…

But despite the cold, her stomach was empty.

So, as she shoveled cold cuts into her mouth, Qing thought,

Damn it… but this actually tastes good…

Grumbling to herself, she still cleaned out every last bite in the lunchbox.

Then, curling into a ball, she huddled in the corner of the room.

There were no doors.
There were no windows.
Even though she was inside, a storm raged through the room.

She had managed to find the least windy spot.

But if she leaned against the wall, the cold would seep into her bones.

So she maintained a delicate distance from the wall.

"Play the flute."

"M-my hands are s-so cold…"

Qing trembled so violently that it looked like she was having a seizure.

Still, shivering uncontrollably for a while actually made her feel slightly better.

"Play the flute."

"Dammit… that thing’s cold. It’s not a flute, it’s an ice block. My fingers are freezing."

"Unni, hurry."

"You little brat, you’re way too persistent…"

Sigh…

Qing let out a deep sigh and picked up Bokshinjeok, which had been casually tossed aside in a corner.

(A flute worth ten thousand gold at market price.)

It was made entirely out of cold iron.

It wasn’t enough to just blow into it—that wouldn’t make a sound.

She had to use sound transmission techniques and infuse it with her inner energy.

Ximen Surin had explained it once.

Once the flute produced sound even once, it would retain its master’s inner energy for decades, preventing others from playing it.

But at the time, Qing was too cold to listen properly.
Half of it went over her head.

She had just assumed it was some kind of magical "unlock" feature.