738 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

Upon waking up in the morning, Qing carefully lifted the cloth covering her wound to find that a scab had already formed overnight, revealing a swelling from the medicated ointment. Among the injuries, the most concerning one was a sizable chunk of metal buried deep. Was this even possible? Of course, it helped that the medicinal ointment Qing used was exceptionally effective. Qing's ointment was either a specialty product of the Tang Clan or a mystical secret of the Demonic Cult with an imported name. Its effectiveness truly represented the essence of Oriental medicine! In Zhongyuan, mystical energies inhabited the world, enhancing the medicinal properties embedded in plants. When such a renowned medicinal product encountered a human body with supernatural, thrice-accelerated healing capabilities, the results were clear. Naturally, deeply lodged fragments would take time to surface, needing nightly repetitions of this process. Well, being robust is beneficial. Furthermore, it was fortunate her chest was protected. Qing shielded her chest with both hands, cradling the Jincheon-roe, lying face down. Qing's forearm, tough as it was, reminiscent of the Vajra's indestructible limb from Lesser Demon Technique, bore no scratches whatsoever. Qing's chest, however, was not something that could be simply concealed, but lying down pressed her excessive softness harmlessly into the earth. Had it not been so... Her chest would be a mere tattered rag by now. Not that it's a particularly useful, cumbersome burden—own or touch it, negligible sentiment remains. Even so, completely becoming a shredded mess to the point of amputation would be, well, painful. Pain is undesirable. Absolutely. Moreover, Jia Yeo would be distraught. As Qing turned her head, her gaze met the blank stare of Jia Yeo, her eyes seemingly decayed and worn. "Jia Yeo, are you asleep or not? Why aren’t you asleep?" A smile spread across the child's face. Though her expression appeared strained due to her habitual fatigue, it was a smile nonetheless. And then she spoke. "Uncomfortable." "Uncomfortable? What's?" "Hard." Something seemed dissatisfactory from the start of the morning; apparently, the pillow she lay on was too low and hard. "Already covering your chest, aren't you? Jia Yeo, wouldn't you be satisfied sleeping next to Seol's mother? Would you prefer to sleep with Moyong's mother?" Though small, her chest could fit snugly in one hand, offering a refreshing coolness. And it wouldn’t shatter. Apologies to Moyong Sojeo, but lying next to her would be like sleeping on a stone slab with merely a blanket over it. A giggle, followed by a quick intake of breath. Oh dear. Qing turned her head the other way. Indeed, those large eyes, watering as they looked at Qing, seemed upset. "Hmm. Good morning, Moyong Sojeo. It's a fine morning, isn't it? Oh, my body feels light today. Do you feel the same, Moyong Sojeo?" "Sojeo-nim, what are you talking about..." Gosh, why did I even open my mouth? Taken aback upon waking, I hadn't noticed Moyong Sojeo's breathing on the other side of the room. Really, who immediately assesses their surroundings the moment they open their eyes? "Were you, perhaps, referring to Sojeo-Seol to imply satisfaction because I'm too small? Is that what you meant?" "Uh, it's not that, um, yes. Seol is refreshing, don't you know? People from Northern Sea operate their internal energy even in their sleep, emitting chill throughout the night. Isn't that why the room feels cool? Fascinating, right?" "But you did mention Jia Yeo covered her chest... Implied because mine's too small, correct?" Failed to divert the conversation. Her big eyes appeared even larger, perhaps due to their slightly smaller head, and moist with disappointment. Hmm. What should I do? Scratching the back of her neck awkwardly, Qing considered that the only choice now was candidly facing forward. "Well, for a sleepy Jia Yeo, it's indeed a fact of, um, lacking descent? And, since compared to you Moyong Sojeo, Jia Yeo does find it hard to maintain her balance–" "No descent... what do you mean by descent..." Moyong Joo Hee's expression sank deeper into sorrow. Expressing hurt like a puppy, those expressions—a bit pitiful yet endearing. Anyway. "But! That's merely when Jia Yeo sleeps." "What?" "You see, I'm completely different. I absolutely adore Moyong Sojeo's chest—ah, gosh, what's 'chest', the charm of Moyong Sojeo's figure always excites me? Leaving my hands wanting to reach out. See, right now, too, my heart is pounding. Can you hear it?" Having come this far, I decided to tackle the matter head-on. Even though lying pained my conscience, letting Moyong Sojeo slip back into any prior personal inferiority wasn't an option. "Really? Truly?" "Indeed. When have I ever lied to Moyong Sojeo?" "You're lying now... Sojeo-nim always avoids eye contact when speaking falsely..." Oops, am I like that? Though adept at deceiving with expressions unchanged, readily confronting and convincing a friend left me vulnerable, Qing being the exception who was always honest among acquaintances. “No, really? I’m seriously trying to hold my hand back right now,” Qing dramatically clutched her own right wrist, pretending to restrain a hand that was eager to reach out, making a humorous scene. Typically, this level of humor would suffice to get a laugh, a seasoned tactic, a sure-fire way to diffuse the situation with laughter. But Moyong Joo Hee didn’t back down. No, she seemed to have been waiting for this moment. Resolutely, Moyong Joo Hee opened her front wide. “Then, go ahead.” “Eh?” “Don’t just talk about it; if you’re sincere, prove it with actions.” With both hands holding her collar open, she turned her head away, unable to muster the courage to look directly. Her exposed neck was flushed red with embarrassment. Momentarily, Qing gulped. Then, she reached out her hand— But something feels off. Even under my arm, there'd be more flesh than this. These are ribs... Although there's a semblance when gathered, honestly, my interest in the area wanes compared to the majestic skyscraper in the center. Still, that’s a line not to be crossed. Even when fiddling with Moeok’s belongings, I never touched that part. So, poor Moyong Joo Hee was in a fluster since the early morning. Trying to scratch around the edges of what itches, hovering around the scabbing wound, she stifled an earnest plea threatening to escape her throat. Meanwhile, Seol Lily slept soundly, obliviously snoring the sleep of the faint-hearted child named Jayeo, who always seemed to drift back to sleep when lying down. ---- After breakfast, Qing headed towards the training hall. Moyong Sojeo had skipped breakfast, claiming an upset stomach, and was nowhere to be seen, though she seemed fine earlier—maybe it was indigestion? Regardless. The training hall in the morning, and the aspiring students were aflame with an intensity born from their thirst for knowledge. Qing felt a pang of guilt, wishing her body had healed enough to reciprocate that passion, fearing she wasn’t worthy of such dedication when she couldn’t even wield a sword properly. Promising herself to hasten the removal of fragments, Qing greeted everyone. “Did you sleep well last night?” “Yes.” “Indeed.” “I slept well.” This wasn’t the army, so the Righteous Orthodox Martial Academy didn’t require uniform responses like the military might, nor did they demand resounding answers from students acting more like pupils than recruits. “Yes!! Did you sleep well, Instructor!!!” Suddenly, a voice boomed loudly. What? Who’s got such military spirit? Everyone, including Qing, turned to face the owner of the voice. It was none other than the Sichuan Aristocrat’s son, Gaeppyeokdong Mandallo. What the heck, Gaeppyeokdong, did he eat something wrong? Mandallo’s haughty behavior was infamous not only in the training hall but throughout the academy, so everyone stared at him with the same expression of disbelief. Yet, Mandallo, showing no signs of discomfort, wore a slightly smug smile, and continued to speak with his loud voice. “As your student today, I humbly seek your teachings!!!” Mandallo’s invasion didn't end there. “Brother Ju, was it? Please take care of me during our sparring.” To think, the rogue is giving salutations! That Gaeppyeokdong! Instead of clicking his tongue at mingling with the lowly, he addressed with respect, even going so far as to use honorifics! Of course, he got the name wrong. “Huh? I’m not of the Ju Clan, but the Ye Clan.” “Ah, Brother Ye! I’m afraid I didn’t recall properly. I’ll remember distinctly now.” And, Mandallo’s skill level wasn’t low. Though, by Qing’s standards, not worthy of being called a martial artist, barely an apprentice at the first tier, but still, at only eighteen, he was a first-tier warrior. Due to his brash behavior and unreliable words, many dismissed him, seeing merely the persona rather than the talent, a rogue barely taken seriously. Yet, surprisingly, it was Mandallo who repelled an actual assassin’s attack, an assailant whose existence many doubted. “Brother Ye, instead of 'Buungrang', how about trying 'Buungrang' for a better balance?” “Huh? 'Buungrang'?” “Yes, it seemed your balance was off just now in the middle of 'Buungrang', so how about stabilizing it more with 'Bun' than 'Bang'?” Though it might sound gibberish, these were terms for discussing the subtleties of sword techniques, formal lingo within the training hall. In other words, it was advice to tweak the balance between speed and control. “What’s gotten into this guy, doing something so out of character, planning on making a fool at some point?” distrustful eyes of Ye softened into a smile, realizing Mandallo had indeed suggested something worthwhile. Swayed by the improved techniques he hadn’t realized on his own. It dawned, oh right, even Gaeppyeokdong was a first-tier warrior. The internal esteem rapidly upgraded from a starting point to a genuine acknowledgment of skill, bridging the gap of familiarity. Pacing around, Qing occasionally tossed helpful insights to the students here and there, stumbling upon Mandallo’s newfound character, hmm. What's this? Has our guy changed? But, can one change so much? Admittedly, having narrowly survived a death encounter... With the imperial family conspiring his demise, and his own family using him as a pawn to breach the martial realm, the shock must have been immense. Feeling sympathetic and... In spite of everything, recovering his spirit without straying further—though hard to imagine anything more rebellious than his prior self, to see him regaining composure was undeniably commendable.