Chapter 62: Qing's Return

A sorrowful sound flowed from Qing’s Bokshinjeok.

This melody carried a story so moving that it could bring tears to the eyes of anyone who listened.

Some time ago—

When Ximen Surin returned Bokshinjeok to Qing, she had said:

"This master is already old. There is no need for a new flute when I already have a familiar companion that bears my touch."

In response, Qing had dramatically exclaimed,

"Master, this is a ten-thousand-gold-tier, ultra-premium treasure! Right now, this is a once-in-a-lifetime deal! A priceless relic, absolutely free! A special offer, just for Master! An expression of your disciple’s burning devotion!"

Ximen Surin had been about to give her a noogie but then paused.

Bokshinjeok was a priceless treasure, a flute without a price tag.

However, if it had to be valued, it would be at least ten thousand gold.

Anything below ten thousand gold wouldn't do it justice.
Anything above that amount was more than enough to sustain an entire lineage for generations.

What truly surprised Ximen Surin was that Qing had accurately recognized its value.

She had assumed Qing was just giving it away without knowing what it was worth.

But Qing had understood its worth and still handed it over to her master without hesitation, claiming it as a gift.

The old master’s heart rippled with deep emotion.

Yes. This child is truly kind.

Despite being born under the curse of Heavenly Slaughtering Star, she had grown into such a righteous, pure-hearted girl.

…Though, she was also a bit of an airhead.

No, surely there’s a limit to such foolishness?

Even plain water isn’t this bland...

But gratitude was gratitude.

Her disciple’s sincerity was precious and genuinely touching.

Ximen Surin smiled warmly.

"I will accept the sentiment, but you should keep it and use it yourself."

"But… I don’t even know how to play."

"A proper lady should at least master one of the Four Arts."

The Four Arts referred to music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

These were considered the highest-class hobbies in Murim.

They weren’t just hobbies—

In modern terms, they were the equivalent of yachting, horseback riding, golf, or clay shooting.

Being skilled in them automatically elevated one’s social standing and made them seem more refined and cultured.

That was the role of the Four Arts in Murim.

"Since you have a good flute, and since music has the power to calm the mind, it will serve as a tool to suppress your killing intent. It will help temper your nature."

And so, alongside her regular training, Qing had involuntarily acquired flute-playing as a second major.

For an entire winter, while freezing to death, she had played the flute endlessly.

Naturally, her melodies were incredibly sorrowful, so much so that simply hearing them made tears well up.

But strangely? Once she got the hang of it, she played remarkably well.

No, not just well—

To Ximen Surin, it sounded as if a brand-new genre of music was spontaneously being created.

The results were so unexpected that she couldn’t help but exclaim,

"This is the talent of one who will establish a school of music! No, someone who will rewrite the history of Murim’s music! Who could have imagined my disciple had such a gift?!"

Qing almost smiled bashfully.

But she was too cold—far too cold—

Instead, she shivered violently and gazed at Ximen Surin with hopeful eyes, praying that this praise would earn her a single blanket.

Of course, nothing came of it.

…Naturally, her "talent" was just plagiarism.

Anyone from the modern world carried fragments of melodies from their past.

To the ears of people in Murim, unaccustomed to anything beyond their rigid traditions—these melodies shattered the boundaries of musical form, striking them as revolutionary, almost otherworldly.

The female disciples of the Divine Maiden Sect were particularly captivated by two melodies.

"Canon Variations[^Johann Pachelbel's Canon in D major]" and "Merry-Go-Round.[^"Merry-Go-Round of Life" Song by Joe Hisaishi]"

Why anyone would attach a menacing name like “Canon” to such a hopeful anthem was beyond comprehension.

And what did a “rotating wooden horse”—a contraption unheard of in this world—have to do with a lyrical tune evoking life’s fleeting beauty? They hadn’t the faintest clue.[^This song is intricately linked to the themes of transformation, love, and the passage of time]

But—who cared? The music was good.

For Qing, it was one of the few remaining connections to her old world.

Her past life hadn’t been particularly great, but she had managed to find contentment.

And even that life was better than her current state of freezing, starving, and suffering humiliation.

So, as she played the flute, the melodies that spilled forth became a requiem for a life that no longer existed.

Meanwhile, chaos erupted at the Murim Alliance’s headquarters.

A newly confirmed report had shaken the entire sect.

It all began when the Waterway Company of the Yangtze River lodged a complaint.

According to them—

The Murim Alliance’s independent patrol unit had ties to an underground faction known as the "Association."

Furthermore, they accused this faction of being involved in vile sorcery, particularly in controlling Living Jiangshi through blood rituals.

Even worse—

The son of the Waterway Sect’s leader had lost his life.

The Murim Alliance immediately dispatched warriors to investigate the Un Clan of Jin Prefecture, in search of the truth.

What they found was shocking.

By the time the investigative team reached the estate, it had already withered into ruin.

A mansion is not just a house—it requires constant maintenance.

Without a diligent caretaker, no matter how grand an estate may be, it will quickly decay into an abandoned ruin.

Unlike Qing’s humble home, which had a certain tiny caretaker constantly tending to it, the Un Clan’s mansion had crumbled into desolation.

By the time the investigators arrived, there were no traces of life.

What was truly alarming was the testimony of the local townspeople.

They claimed that just seven days ago, they had seen numerous members of the Un Clan coming and going from the estate.

This perfectly aligned with the Waterway Sect’s claims:

They had extracted a confession stating that Eon Yeonyeong had exterminated the entire clan and turned them into Jiangshi.

The Un Clan had never been truly alive.

Within its walls existed a force comprised of—

A faction tied to the Demonic Cannibal and Murim’s foremost Jiangshi sorcerer had operated right under the Alliance’s nose, cunning beyond measure.

The Murim Alliance could not ignore this threat.

And now, the great, lumbering beast that was the Murim Alliance—

Had begun to move.

In truth, when Ximen Surin told Qing to “strip,” it wasn’t for training—it was punishment.

Qing was foolish, careless, and had even recklessly learned demonic arts, placing both her sect and master in danger.

She was an outrageously insolent disciple who had committed the gravest act of disrespect.

Thus, this was her harshest punishment.

And yet—

Normally, any proper disciple would have broken into tears, begging for mercy, pleading that they had learned their lesson and that their master spare them from this humiliation.

Even among women living together, it was unthinkable.

In fact, to be seen in such a state by junior disciples was far worse than simply being naked.

If Ximen Surin had been in Qing’s position, she would have rather bitten off her own tongue than endure such shame.

Either that, or she would have shattered her own dantian and severed her tendons out of sheer indignation before storming out of the sect.

And yet? What was her disciple’s reaction?

Good heavens! She didn’t even seem to grasp shame!

Sure, Qing was a little embarrassed, but that was all.

The cold was a far greater concern than any sense of modesty.

This realization filled Ximen Surin with an unprecedented sense of crisis.

A woman must know shame.

A person must understand that there are things more precious than life itself.

That was why she had confiscated Qing’s undergarments and blankets and even removed the doors and windows from her hut.

She had wanted Qing to realize, on her own, just how humiliating her current state was.

And yet, Qing merely shivered.

No shame. No self-awareness.

Ximen Surin was so dumbfounded that she just let it go.

Then, worried that Qing might freeze to death during the night, she secretly went to check on her—

Only to discover something astonishing.

Qing’s body was instinctively wrapping itself in protective inner energy!

Internal Qi Guard was a technique that fortified the body with internal energy, shielding it from harm.

Every night, whenever she fell asleep, Qing would unconsciously activate this ability in order to survive.

And this type of automatic activation was regarded as the pinnacle of Self-Defense Techniques.

A true defensive master didn’t have to consciously summon their Qi Guard—
it should emerge naturally, like breathing.

But in actuality, even Trancendent realm martial artists who had mastered Internal Qi Guard still had to deliberately summon their energy in battle.

For someone to wield this level of defense instinctively—

That was a skill that only martial artists in the mid-stages of the Unrestrained Realm could achieve.

It was why Unrestrained Realm masters were so terrifying—if their defenses were always active, even an ambush wouldn’t work against them.

Ximen Surin Changed Her Mind.

Yes, Qing had no shame.

But perhaps—this was an opportunity.

If her disciple could fully integrate Self-Defense Energy into her natural reflexes,

Then at the very least, she wouldn’t die when she ventured out into Murim.

She would always be clad in a powerful, invisible armor.

Yes—there were things more precious than life.

But Ximen Surin still wanted her disciple to live.

She had no right to curse Yang Sowol, that damned runaway disciple, for burdening her child with karmic debt—

Not when she was doing the exact same thing.

Even though this punishment could leave permanent emotional scars,

She chose her disciple’s survival over everything else.

She could only hope that, someday, this would remain nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory of hardship.

"This terrible master’s selfishness… I’m sorry."

It was abuse.

What kind of master would force their disciple to live in such a miserable state?

If Qing resented her for this, if she hated her forever, Ximen Surin wouldn’t be able to argue.

But even if Qing one day held a sword to her throat,

She could not allow her to waste this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Qing would return to Murim.

This was an unforgivable decision.

If others found out, they would condemn her.

Ximen Surin would endure it all.

…Of course, if Qing had actually known all of this,

She would have just pouted, muttered that her master was worrying over nothing,

And then complained, "If it’s only important while I’m sleeping, why did I have to stay naked all day?! That’s just unfair!"

Regardless, for Ximen Surin, this had been a monumental decision.

Because of This, the Female Disciples of the Saintess’ Sect Reaped Unexpected Benefits.

Unlike Qing, who was freezing to the bone, the winters of the Divine Maiden Sect had suddenly become unbearably hot.

It was as if the Divine Maiden sect's Peak had turned into an active volcano.

And the reason?

The sect’s highest-ranking junior elder—was walking around in the most outrageous attire imaginable.

Whether this transparent scrap of fabric could even be considered clothing was debatable.

It clung tightly to her body, revealing every curve in shocking detail.

Even in front of a lover, this would have been too much.

Truly, even the most infamous seductresses in Murim wouldn’t dare to dress this provocatively.

And yet, despite her scandalous appearance—

Qing herself was far from alluring.

She was ashen-faced, trembling violently, utterly miserable.

But that very misery gave her an otherworldly beauty—
turning her sorrow into a delicate, breathtaking elegance.

And then, whenever she picked up her flute—

It was as if she had never shivered in the first place.

The moment she played, her inner energy surged, momentarily banishing the cold.

With her eyes glistening with longing and sorrow, she performed melodies so beautiful they seemed to transcend reality itself.

This was the true power of music—

Its ability to create an atmosphere that did not exist.

The sheer absurdity of her attire only enhanced the experience,

Drawing out emotions never before felt in this world.

Refined yet obscene.
Elegant yet scandalous.

A living, breathing piece of erotic art.

Just—indecent.
Unquestionably, indecent.

Complete, unfiltered seduction.

A veritable Māra Pāpīyās![^Mara Papiyas, the supreme demon of Buddhist lore, akin to Lucifer in scripture—a deity of desire, the embodiment of worldly afflictions.]

Māra was the god of desire, the embodiment of temptation itself.

In Buddhist tradition, he was most famous for attempting to seduce the Buddha—only to be flatly rejected.

But whether it was refined or lewd, the result was the same.

Just looking at her made people feel hot.

Even in this freezing winter.

So naturally—

In that frigid season, disciples clung to each other—hands clasped, bodies pressed tight—far more than usual.

Even the stern hierarchy crumbled, with seniors and juniors sharing beds in startling numbers.

It was winter, after all.