Chapter 68: Who’s Holding a Blade…

Qing pushed her qi through the meridian points in her lower body.

Her legs were numb and weak because her qi and blood were blocked, making it hard for the energy to flow down.

But the Yue Maiden Cultivation Technique worked—barely.

It felt like trying to blow air through a clogged nostril by pinching the other side shut.

The excessive force caused a dull ache in her dantian, but compared to the refreshing sensation in her lower body, it was tolerable.

The Yue Maiden Cultivation Technique was derived from the insights of the Nine Heavens Profound Maiden, who harmonized nine worlds.

It embodied a balance of yin and yang, good and evil—a realization of moderation.

Its extreme balance-oriented qi gently dissolved the blockage in her meridian points.

While Qing was forcibly prying open her closed meridians, an old voice interrupted her.

“Ahem. I am Godang Sang.”

Qing had always been weak against old people.

If she could see his face, she’d at least check for karmic debts. But stuck inside a carriage? No chance.

“Uh... What? Out of nowhere? I’m Ximen Qing.”

“I intend to impart my teachings to you. You must accept me as your master.”

What the hell? Why is he suddenly demanding I call him master?

“I already have a master—”

The old voice cut Qing off mid-sentence and started reciting martial arts principles outright.

Even Godang Sang couldn’t avoid this tactic. If this damned girl refused him, he’d have to beg her to learn. So instead, he rushed to teach her before she could say no, planning to leverage this later.

She’s a righteous sect brat—different from those Demon Cult bastards. Maybe one day she’ll return to the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult and treat me like a proper master.

Even if not, at least she’s better than those cult freaks who devour their own masters. That’s what he hoped anyway.

“When the dark sun rises, day and night become indistinguishable...”

Ah. So he’s one of those owners of Absorption Demonic Arts.

Qing kept her mouth shut.

After some introduction about how he supposedly created this technique after seeing a solar eclipse, he moved on to explaining meridian usage, qi manipulation methods, combat techniques, and mental imagery exercises.

Martial arts principles usually followed this order.

Then came the Martial Arts Window glowing brightly with light.

When she opened it, gold-framed text appeared—

Wait, seriously? Just gold?

Qing was disappointed.

The entry-level process required testing out each technique one by one while perfectly mastering its application. What a pain in the ass.

Qing dumped some Karma Points into it and achieved Level 1 mastery instantly.

And then... something started invading her brain.

It felt like something was chewing through her brain, kneading it like dough—digging in and rubbing around. There were no words for this sensation.

“Ugh! Gah! Fucking hell…”

Afterward, she felt disgusted—like absolute shit.

If not for this mind-breaking experience, maybe she could’ve been on better terms with the Martial Arts Window.

But once you go through it... you realize there’s something inherently malicious about it.

Some kind of malevolent force that grabs your life and shakes it around like a toy.

And yet... it doesn’t care what happens to you. It’s utterly indifferent.

What is this thing? Some kind of god?

If it’s one of those primitive gods worshipped by barbaric idiots—the Celestial Emperor or Buddha Baby or whatever—they’re supposed to be good guys, right?

They wouldn’t treat people like garbage... would they?

Or is this seriously just a game?

Am I even moving according to my own will?

Why do I keep running into crap like this wherever I go?

Yeah... fuck... Celestial Martial Emperor...

There was some guide written about him too...

Suddenly, Qing remembered something from when she installed the game—a walkthrough she’d read casually but embarrassingly forgotten until now.

The biggest difference between difficulty levels was tied to Celestial Martial Emperor himself.

On Easy Mode, Celestial Martial Emperor was an elder of righteous sects who had crushed imperial forces along with other threatening factions. He left behind his legacy easily obtainable even for Demonic Sect players. Building power was straightforward on Easy Mode.

On Normal Mode, Celestial Martial Emperor had only targeted imperial forces in his past life, leaving other factions stronger than ever. His legacy was harder to claim due to increased threats across Murim (martial world).

On Hard Mode? Celestial Martial Emperor didn’t exist at all. The government had absolute control over Murim while martial arts quality plummeted—making advanced techniques harder to find and weaker overall.

Qing had chosen Easy Mode for her first playthrough.

Is that why Murim looks like this now?

If I hadn’t? Would things have been different?

So what is this world anyway?

Oh no... bad thoughts. Stop thinking like that!

Qing’s body trembled violently.

Something wasn’t right.

She hadn’t felt anything this intense recently—why now? Why?

Then one face popped into her mind.

Qing immediately realized what was happening to her.

That bastard—the self-proclaimed leader guy!

That fucking asshole!

His face looked like Asura’s twisted visage; his legs were half-crippled; and now Taechangyi had pissed her off enough for an episode. Of course she’d snap!

Shockingly though... she calmed down without further drama!

But damn it! She was furious!

Her heart pounded; her hands shook uncontrollably.

When people hate someone enough... they’ll invent reasons just to hate them more later. Humans are petty creatures like that.

All the unfairness in the world focused on one person—it might seem unfair to him—but who cares?

This is why people are supposed to be polite and considerate toward each other—to avoid shit like this happening!

Qing slammed her palm against the carriage wall in frustration.

Her strike carried profound qi far beyond Peak Realm, tearing through inner walls, steel reinforcements, and outer panels—all in one hit—leaving Qing’s hand poking out shyly into open air outside the carriage.

Godang Sang froze mid-recitation of Black Slaying Demonic Palm principles as he witnessed this absurd sight unfold before him.

At Qing’s fingertips—the very tip of one slender finger—was pure blackness: proof that she had officially mastered Black Slaying Demonic Palm technique basics.

It was about a week later.

Qing staggered toward the dining table, wobbling like a drunk.

Her right leg trembled uncontrollably, and her left leg dragged behind her like dead weight.

Ji Seungju couldn’t help but marvel at the sight.

Every time he saw it, it was like witnessing a miracle.

She got hit by the Reversed Blood Flow Grand Technique and still managed to walk on her own two feet?

Sure, she was moving at a snail’s pace, but considering the Supreme Master didn’t hold back, she should’ve been a cripple by now. He’d even heard that the attack was meant to leave her permanently paralyzed.

Apparently, her Internal qi guard technique was almost perfected—almost.

The Reversed Blood Flow Grand Technique was a forbidden sorcery originating from the Blood Sect. It was considered the second most powerful of their secret arts.

And yet, this late-state Peak realm martial artist took a direct hit from the Supreme Master’s technique and survived?

“Ugh, this is brutal. I thought rehab was just an excuse for whining. Turns out it’s a damn triumph of the human spirit.”

Qing finally flopped into her seat, groaning as she kneaded her thighs dramatically.

Then she grabbed her chopsticks and started shoveling food into her mouth at lightning speed.

Why? Because food was in front of her. That’s why.

Ji Seungju watched Qing devour her meal with laser focus.

If anyone else saw this, they’d think she had some kind of personal vendetta against the food.

But Ji Seungju wasn’t staring at the food or Qing’s eating habits. His eyes were locked on her hands.

Her long fingers were completely black.

It meant her mastery of Black Slaying Demonic Palm had reached 3 Star.

It had only been a week since he passed down the technique to her.

One week. And she’d already reached third Star?

Ji Seungju himself had barely stepped into the ranks of Second-Class martial artists. With his mediocre cultivation level, he’d managed to claim his position as Pavilion Lord thanks to his brains and the grudging acknowledgment of the Heavenly Demon Cult members.

But even with his sharp mind, Qing’s mastery speed for Black Slaying Demonic Palm was unprecedented in Murim history.

If it were an internal cultivation technique, he might’ve understood—those can sometimes lead to rapid breakthroughs due to their profound nature.

But Black Slaying Demonic Palm? It was an external palm technique focused on long-range strikes.

How could someone who clearly trained with swords suddenly excel at palm techniques?

Did she unknowingly have a hidden talent for palm arts all along?

What Ji Seungju didn’t know was that Qing had already mastered both Buddha’s Divine Palm and White Hand Demonic Arts.

Buddha’s Divine Palm was one of the most exalted palm techniques in existence, while White Hand Demonic Arts served as the foundation for countless demonic sect techniques.

Since Black Slaying Demonic Palm also fell under the category of palm arts, it naturally overlapped with what Qing already knew from Buddha’s Divine Palm.

Moreover, its infiltration techniques were modeled after White Hand Demonic Arts from the start.

So for Qing, understanding and mastering Black Slaying Demonic Palm felt as natural as breathing—even without dumping Karma Points into it.

Before anyone noticed, Qing had cleared every plate on the table and leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. Then she called out to Ji Seungju.

“Hey. Kid.”

“What the fuck? Kid?”

“Yes, what is it?”

Oh crap. The words came out wrong. Ji Seungju immediately regretted it.

Of all times...

Qing flashed him a sweet smile—the kind that made you want to punch yourself for provoking her.

“Oh? So you do care about being called ‘kid,’ huh? Always acting all stoic like nothing bothers you, but I guess your height’s a sore spot?”

“I occasionally suffer from verbal slips.”

“Sure you do, kid. Honestly, I think you’re not growing because you don’t eat enough. You’ve gotta eat more if you want to grow taller.”

Ji Seungju’s eyebrow twitched violently.

Not eating enough? Whose fault do you think that is?!

In the Central Plains, high-end dining tables spun around so dishes could be shared easily.

But every time Ji Seungju tried to grab something to eat, Qing would spin the table and dump all the food onto her plate instead.

No wonder he couldn’t eat properly!

“Lady Qing must enjoy being tall,” Ji Seungju said dryly, hoping to get back at her somehow.

Tall women weren’t exactly popular in the Central Plains —he thought that might sting a little.

But Qing didn’t even flinch.

“Of course! If only you were taller too, you’d understand how refreshing the air is up here. Every time I sit down, I can feel how filthy it is down there—it’s suffocating!”

“...”

“And yet when we sit down like this... we’re suddenly at eye level again? Where does that difference come from? Is it your legs? Or maybe... your legs?”

“...You piece of shit.”

You piece of shit.

For once, Ji Seungju’s thoughts and words aligned perfectly.