740 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

The three members of the Blood Cult infiltration team had clearly reached the latter stage of the Second Tier after their outing. Having consumed that massive spiritual medicine, their internal qi was circulating smoothly as it pierced through the meridians of their entire body due to the guidance of a master’s true internal energy. Perhaps it was due to the main ingredient's properties, the secret method of the manufacturer, or simply the fact that the spiritual medicine itself was so large it was difficult to swallow in one go, the amount of qi they had already exceeded the First Tier level. However, since martial arts are ultimately about personal achievement, if they couldn't emit sword qi, they would remain stuck in the Second Tier indefinitely. The difference between a Third Tier and Second Tier martial artist is significant. A Third Tier martial artist, through breathing exercises and energy absorption, gains inner qi, becoming very healthy and strong, akin to a robust commoner. Of course, they couldn’t be directly compared to commoners, as they knew how to handle weapons and wouldn’t hesitate to harm others. But starting from the Second Tier, where one's dantian is fully stabilized and ki channels extend outwards, every aspect including strength, endurance, reaction speed, hearing, sight, and touch is significantly enhanced, marking a distinct difference from commoners. Thus, the fact that the three of them saw clear improvement was only natural. But? Their achievements rose, yet? "Brother Jo, congratulations on your achievement. It's almost embarrassing to keep calling you 'younger brother' now that you're no longer struggling beneath me. Perhaps you have some secret technique?" "It's just talent. Do you even have to ask?" "...?" "In the end, it's all about talent. Someone destined to be a master will become one, regardless of any secret techniques. If you have talent, it happens quickly." The unspoken implication was clear: if you lack talent, like others who don't possess it, you'll never make it. "..." "Why, do you have something to say? Well, not that you'd have much." "Where are you going?" "I need to swing my sword once more. If I rest after finishing my tasks, I'll just remain stagnant." With that, Jo Hyun-il headed outside. Remaining behind, Gwan-do clicked his tongue in disbelief and displeasure. "Huh, I didn't think he was like that." Jo Hyun-il had always been quietly neat and docile, so Gwan-do was greatly shocked. Although his words held truth, it was surprising to see him change his demeanor so quickly right after achieving a breakthrough. If Qing saw it, She would likely click her tongue. How can one predict tomorrow's events, or assume that martial arts achievements differ from person to person? Today’s inferior person could become a superior master tomorrow, given the unpredictable nature of enlightenment. Even disregarding that, making unnecessary enemies in fleeting moments of arrogant superiority isn’t wise. Though Gwan-do wasn't too demoralized or severely shocked, such individuals were abundant in Zhongyuan. He had always been like that. After shaking his head, Gwan-do lay on his bed for a moment, then sighed deeply, grabbed a wooden sword, and headed outside. He decided to train to shake off the dirt. In the end, let's consider it a positive result. He merely misjudged someone; he had encountered countless individuals who became arrogant and unpleasant with just a slight rise in martial prowess. Especially in that vague realm between the Second and First Tier, it's common for martial artists to act this way, while truly outstanding and renowned masters often exude dignity with their composed demeanor and generosity. It was the same in Qing’s hometown, where one’s martial prowess could translate into wealth, inevitably leading to situations where people with just meager wealth felt entitled to disrespect and belittle those less fortunate, a tendency much seen in people with vague amounts of wealth. And the characteristic of such individuals. Towards those superior to them (regardless of their true feelings), they would become servile, with bowed backs and greasy voices. Thus, it was only natural for them to become humble in front of the known transcendent master like the Heavenly Sword Flower. "Instructor, I heard you sustained serious injuries in the battle against the Lesser Demon Fox." Look at that? Qing offered an elegant smile. Just a note, Qing's smile isn’t typically elegant. Just like Her dynamic stride, Her smile is equally dynamic, so if it comes from genuine emotion, it’s like a blooming garden full of radiant flowers, captivatingly brilliant. However, having learned the elegant smile from Ximen Surin lineage, akin to the slightly grimacing shaded smile that became the eternal ideal of Zhongyuan people since the appearance of Xi Shi, Qing knew how to fabricate an elegant smile. Thus, the more elegant Qing's smile becomes, the more contrived it is, shedding much of Her characteristic bluntness. What the hell is a Lesser Demon Fox now? That atrocious human butcher, the arch-demon among arch-demons, the epitome of demonic villainy, how dare some lowlife append 'Fox'后 to elevate the Lesser Demon Witch? If it was just a case of some random words picked up, one could dismiss it, but being said by someone Qing was cautiously monitoring lately, it bore more sinister implications. Isn't the Lesser Demon Witch affiliated with the Blood Cult? The Blood Cult referred to the Heart-Seizing Demon as the Demon King; could it be that they elevate the Lesser Demon Witch by calling her the Lesser Demon Fox? “As far as I know, that infiltration battle was supposedly quite fierce, how is your health after enduring it?” It's not infiltration battle, but penetration battle. “This instructor is still recuperating. However, rest assured that this instructor is doing everything to resolve the situation, so don't worry too much, Gwan-do.” “How can I not worry? I respect Instructor Ximen greatly, and knowing you're in crisis due to that terrible Lesser Cold Poison stabs my heart, rendering me unable to sleep at night, my eyes welling up with tears just thinking about it...” Though slightly over the top, it was a statement of personal concern. And around Qing, such small absurdity was typical, and rather mild in this context. Thus, Qing tilted Her head slightly. Am I mistaken? Is it just a misunderstanding? The recent reports suggested that Gwan-do had become cockier, but could it simply be that he had internalized the principle of strong oppression of the weak? “And so, here, I brought this...” “Hmm? Jo Gwan-do? What is this?” “It’s a spiritual medicine passed down in my family. Known to cure any internal injury, this is the Saengsa Nyo Sangdan from the Living Dead Goddess, and I hoped Instructor Ximen would accept it...” The Living Dead Goddess was an individual from around five hundred years ago, a name so grand that within the medical community, she's considered one of the most revered elders. Qing, as a medical woman herself, was well aware of the stature of the Living Dead Goddess, as she was instructed by a mid-ranking officer to read the medical books of the goddess. They often used expressions akin to Hua Tuo. ‘Even Hua Tuo couldn’t save this one.’ ‘Even the Living Dead Goddess couldn’t save this one.’ “Oh, my! Why bring something like this...” Qing had agreed to a consultation upon hearing there was an important matter to discuss. These days, countless consultation requests were pouring in, so when she heard the phrase ‘important matter to discuss,’ she assumed it was another such request. She didn’t expect it to be a tribute. However... “Master Jo, I understand your intentions, but I cannot accept such a precious item. I appreciate your sentiment.” Qing expressed her refusal. Firstly, she wasn’t shameless enough to confiscate a family heirloom from a wandering martial artist with no background or proper master. Secondly, it was against professional ethics for an instructor to accept such a valuable item from a student. And most importantly, it seemed suspicious. A Yo Sang Dan is a general term for medicines that heal internal injuries. Since internal injuries fall within the realm of internal qi, they cannot be crafted with ordinary ingredients. In other words, it essentially qualifies as a spiritual medicine. Despite it being a family heirloom, why would someone continue to safeguard such a remedy while remaining stagnant at the Third Tier? Moreover, for a spiritual medicine given by someone whose realm and karma inexplicably rose after consuming a suspicious pill, no matter how kindly one tries to interpret it, it is undoubtedly suspect. “No, please don’t hesitate, my heart is too distressed as it is. I can't concentrate on my training because of it.” “If it's a Yo Sang Dan of the Living Dead Goddess, it’s akin to having an extra life. Master Jo wouldn’t offer such a precious item lightly. It could be dangerous. Still, I am deeply grateful for your good intentions.” “So, you see, this is an exceptional spiritual medicine on its own. It can not only heal internal injuries but also help you glimpse the next realm.” “I am aware. That’s precisely why I cannot accept it.” Qing’s refusal left Jo Hyun-il visibly flustered. He had never imagined being refused, just like Sergeant Jo had suggested. There’s not a martial artist in the world who refuses spiritual medicine; they would even try to snatch it by force, so he expected she would be elated and gulp it down in a heartbeat. “Oh, please accept it. My heart just isn’t at ease until you do!” “No matter how uneasy you are, you should keep it. It's a treasure you must hold onto.” “I’m very uneasy! Please!” “No, really, it’s fine—” “No! You must take it!” And thus the back-and-forth persisted. A tense tug-of-war ensued between the one desperately trying to hand it over and the one refusing. Until finally. “Fine, I’ll just leave it here!” “Master Jo? Jo Hyun-il! Jo Hyun-il!” Then, Jo Hyun-il made a run for it, stubbornly leaving the wooden box behind. Qing picked up the wooden box, feeling increasingly suspicious. They just forced such a valuable item on her? And not to belittle, but... If a short-term contract worker, who earns his keep as he goes, possesses a family heirloom that’s essentially a golden calf? Furthermore, if he offers it to someone else? No matter how one looks at it, it's peculiar. But if it's a scheme by the Blood Cult, it makes sense. Could it be similar to the parasitic salamander thing, or perhaps it’s poisoned? Qing opened the wooden box. Unlike the blood-red glow of the fake elixir from the last incident, this had an unremarkable yet distinctly refreshing herbal scent that quietly permeated her lungs, free from any fishy or meaty odor—rather confusing. enN1WnIzcFhHMVJuR0JvdkNPc013OGV1aGJWVVhMVFkvcjhDZGo2R2M0N3BBeHJVei9SQ1FmSUdwdUE2OFFxaw Qing stared at the pill intently for a while, then picked up a hand mirror. Unknown. The only way to find out is to taste it. If it’s poison, it’ll have a sharp, excellent flavor that spreads; if it’s housing parasitic salamanders, perhaps it’ll bring about a drunken state, befriending me in my inebriation. The karma rising is an inconsequential cut given how much virtue there is. And if I’m entirely mistaken, and it was given out of genuine kindness, I can just impart some unowned art in return. And with that thought, Qing popped the entire pill into her mouth. As soon as it entered, the fragrance exploded. As with all spiritual medicines, it melted with a delightful sensation, flowing naturally down her throat and diffusing a refreshing energy thereafter. She checked in the mirror. No shift in virtue. So, it must not have anything adverse... Qing sat cross-legged, drawing in the energy. As the essence melted and the true qi spread from her dantian through her whole body, it seeped into the disrupted meridians ravaged by the Heavenly Demon Qi's outburst, gently caressing them. What is this? It’s really good medicine! Uh-oh, maybe I shouldn’t have taken it. I could have given it to my kids if they got hurt. I’m of the kind that heals naturally if left to recuperate. But it was too late—she had already ingested it. Now what? Instead of wasting it, better fully absorb and circulate it diligently. Thus, Qing focused intently on absorbing the Yo Sang Dan’s potency. Suddenly, she felt a strange sensation in her stomach. A tiny creature uncoiling itself; Qing carefully probed its shape with her qi sense. Round, yet broad-headed, with a sharply hooked tail, and four crudely stubby feet. The Drunken Sow, oh, I see, I’ll name it Cup. It can double my state of drunkenness. What a pleasant gain, one might say. But a gain is still a gain, and Qing’s brows twitched slightly with her eyes closed. Did that brat feed me a parasitic salamander? Granted, there was a time when she consumed even worse creatures, but thinking back to those days, it’s almost making her hungry. And that was when it happened. Inside Qing’s stomach, the encounter between the two parasitic salamanders— Inevitably, the size difference was apparent. For the Drunken Sow was no ordinary loner by now. With the accumulation of various poisons from countless experiences—plant toxins, animal venoms, and beyond, paralysis and corrosive qi, including that which was once favored such as the insidious apricot poison and even the putrid poison from decayed meat—it was a Drunken Sow to behold. Seeing the much younger fellow of its kind suddenly appear, the Drunken Sow approached as if delighted— Oh, what’s this, are they going to be friendly? —only to open its mouth wide and snap down on Cup’s head. “Eh?” Qing let out her characteristic dumbfounded exclamation.