751 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

The claim of possessing a rare elixir doesn't seem to be a lie, as the eunuch, Wei Ba-seon, retrieves a wooden box from the long sleeves characteristic of eunuchs. “This is the Sunlight Life Pill.” As she gazes at it with reluctant eyes, her outstretched hand trembles slightly. From that reaction alone, it must indeed be a precious elixir. Yet, teasingly withdrawing it, then extending it again hesitantly—the box remains no closer despite the apparent forward motion. What is this? A mirage of offering? It seems like it’s being handed over, yet the distance never shortens? But if the other doesn't approach, I could simply move forward. “Truly, thank you. How should I ever repay this kindness…” Qing extends her hand to grip the top of the box. Whereupon, Wei Ba-seon clasps it firmly from below. In a tug-of-war between one who wants it and one reluctant to give, the hands clasping the box turn pale. “Oh my, you have such strength, despite being so unwell,” Qing remarks. “Heh heh, I often get complimented on my strength. Thank you.” “It wasn’t a compliment, no, what strength, like someone who’s supposedly gravely ill, saying…” “Aack, my internal injuries, cough, cough.” Despite this, the wooden box dangles and vibrates in the air. Who knows what exceptional material made this box withstand the grip strength of two martial artists? Perhaps the content is equally remarkable, as even the box alone seems a fine piece. “Feigning weakness now, it seems...” “The Master Confucius said, 'Words should just serve their purpose.' The esteemed Taigam has already taken my pulse; there’s no need to exaggerate some ailment.” The saying "words should just serve their purpose" from Confucius' Analects means there's no need to embellish unnecessarily. In other words, since they already know she’s unwell, there's no point pretending further; as the pulse reading should’ve already revealed it. A vein bulges on Wei Ba-seon’s forehead. Though proud of his martial prowess, his voice emerges harsher, hardly fitting for a eunuch, due to the tension of applying so much force. Despite claiming illness, her face doesn’t pale, and her speech remains unaffected as he applies great strength. What kind of power does she possess? Moreover, someone so strong typically wouldn't be literate, yet she speaks fluently like a learned scholar. That someone who eloquently quotes texts calls the Taigam "what's-his-name"—not remembering a simple honorific? The eyes meet between the one seeking to take and the one hesitating to give, with sparks nearly flying between them. Once again, Wei Ba-seon is unintentionally drawn into the moment. Despite the imperial decree that limited her meals due to her impressive appetite, the story of Princess Yeonsul, who loved to complain of hunger, had become the talk of the eunuchs. Whenever he snatched back the proffered snack, she would make such effort to seize it back with playful determination. Then, when he finally let go at the right moment… Qing tumbled backward. Damn, I should’ve said something before letting go. Anyways, the elixir is mine now. Qing, lying on her side, subtly tucks the box into her robes. And lying there, she feigns dizziness, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Oh my, I feel faint. I can't possibly stand.” If anyone saw, they'd wonder what manner of impudent behavior this was in front of an official. Yet, Qing’s innate skillfulness, her cunning flair for gauging boundaries and bending rules, was telling her: The instincts of the infamous old folkslayer whispered that now was a time where such antics could be permissible. Wei Ba-seon’s gaze shifted as his memories wandered back to once was, to moments now past. Even lying down and sneakily indulging in snacks—what princess behaves so? Yet Wei Ba-seon's gaze turns coldly. Because Princess Yeonsul was still very much alive. If Princess Yeonsul were deceased, such memories might sprout nostalgic sorrow, but Princess Yeonsul was indeed living. It’s simply that the person had changed. From a mischievous, endearing nuisance into a proper, dignified royal, which was a rightful transformation, albeit a belated one. One could reminisce about the past features of a living person: "Our princess was so adorable then" might ignite fleeting nostalgia, but that’s all. It’s expected that the notion of seeing Qing and thinking, “The Yeonsul of the palace is fake, and this one’s the real deal—surely a conspiracy afoot,” wouldn’t cross his mind. That would hint at dementia or some mental malady rather than being an intuitive leap. Just as the light in Wei Ba-seon's eyes changed, Qing briskly righted her posture. What’s with this old man, constant mood swings. Could this be some manic-depressive episode? Perhaps, well, he’s an eunuch, after all, possibly some sort of…menopausal phase? Meanwhile, Wei Ba-seon's expression shifts to a sly grin, his eyes gleaming—an aura of malice permeates the air. "My, Heavenly Sword Flower(天華), to be so thoughtlessly recumbent when your internal injury suggests significant gravity—I shall stand guard while you consume the elixir immediately." Taking an elixir is when a martial artist is most vulnerable. "Oh. Should I then?" Qing immediately pries open the box and tosses the elixir into her mouth. Sitting cross-legged, she brings her hands together, closing her eyes, drawing in a deep, cleansing breath. Whoa, it’s fiery, scorching—wow, it’s hot! Once ingested, a fierce surge of energy erupts within—a heat unparalleled, even by the strongest liquor. Oh, this is phenomenal, a treasure worth hoarding. For it is, after all, an elixir of extreme Yang properties. The lava-like energy bursts forth, circulating through the entire meridian network. Typically, consuming such an elixir that's so extreme in one direction carelessly is inadvisable. The elixir seemed to be designed for situations where the balance of Yang and Yin energies was disrupted, requiring urgent restoration on one side. Alternatively, it might be crafted to be consumed alongside an extreme Yin elixir, forming a harmonious pair through the principle of mutual generation. However, Qing was perfectly fine. Among the various internal techniques she practiced, it was sufficient to channel all the Yang energy distinctly. Aside from the studies that had already reached the peak of the "Twelve Stars," her capacity for Yang-oriented techniques like the Dragon–Elephant Prajna Tiger Heart Technique(용상반야호심공), Myriad Things as One Heart Technique(만상여일신공), and Blood Demon King Divine Arts(혈마왕신공) was still far from full. Moreover, this elixir turned out to be quite exceptional... The medicinal properties were abundantly strong, serving as a tonic with invigorating energy typical of Yang-rich herbs. Wei Ba-seon blinked in bewilderment. What sort of woman is this with such nerve? It seemed like the cantankerous whim of an aging eunuch. A eunuch, having had the testes removed, continually seeks ways to supplement Yang energy, and such an elixir with extreme Yang properties was something any eunuch would drool over. Though acquired from the pharmacy with the excuse of probable need, a high-ranking eunuch like Byungpil Sooyang Taegam would claim it without needing to use it. Internally, she already considered the elixir hers, hence she exuded a fierce aura, mischievously insisting Qing consume it here right away. But this woman, what does she trust to gulp it down so readily? Already gravely internally injured, does she risk her life on the prospect of dying from one wrong move? Is it because the Emperor summoned her, confident that no harm would befall her? Or has nostalgia led her to believe her presence to be harmless? Such boldness or craftiness. Or utter naivety. Wei Ba-seon shook his head. ---- In Zhongyuan, no matter how skilled one might be, it’s unheard of to traverse mountain paths in torrential rain during the night. Even with excellent night vision, there's nothing visible on a pitch-black night, and heavy rain renders even lanterns unreliable; one might as well sleep and set off in the morning. On the eve of departure to Beijing, having gathered with friends, indulging in conversations after so long... Despite soreness from playing the role of a friend’s surrogate pillow... Thus the morning came. Qing found herself in the guest room. And. Hmm, this old man? Oh no... Is he holding a grudge over the elixir he surrendered? “What brings you here?” “Oh… How could I possibly board the palanquin, leaving you behind, elder? I’m alright, so…” “No, given your serious internal injuries, how could we harshly make you walk a mountain path? Please feel free to sit.” Qing looked at the golden palanquin with a sour expression. Gold isn’t strong enough to bear human weight, so surely it’s gilded. What is this—so shiny and gleaming, a dazzling brilliance indeed. The martial artists at the academy were dumfounded by the sight. Even under the dim rain-clouded sky, it revealed its resplendent golden gleam. If she were seen riding such a palanquin even once, she might earn a lifetime nickname like "Gold Palanquin Rogue"—a name too extravagant for its own good. In simpler terms, it was incredibly tacky! It screamed nouveau riche, with the worst taste and even worse judgment. Moreover, it was pouring rain today. Pouring—! It was torrential. “There… Isn’t there some kind of canopy or something? Like a detachable, assembly type…” “This is a splendorous Golden Palanquin(金轎) admired by all. Covering it would cast a shadow. If gold shone brighter than its occupant, using such expensive material would be pointless, wouldn’t it?” The palanquin was intentionally designed to draw attention with nothing concealed. What choice did she have? As Qing made to approach the palanquin— “Heavenly Sword Flower. Haven't I mentioned? The palanquin is for those admired by all. Seeing you ascend in such attire, how would the people regard this?” “But, it’s raining like this?” Qing awkwardly questioned. Such attire referred to the Zhongyuan raincoat, the Soyee蓑衣. Riding in this rain, without a raincoat, in a roofless palanquin? Not just rain—these were the kind of drops that would sting upon impact, more akin to high-pressure shower jets than soft raindrops. Qing protested. “My internal condition isn’t the best, and while it’s summer, enduring too much cold rain might harm me further, imposing on His Majesty's summoning…” “It’s fine. Please, let me.” "You, yourself, elder?" Wei Ba-seon opened an umbrella. Though called an umbrella, it was one of those grand parasols servants held when reading the imperial decree—it seemed like a mammoth piece typically placed over outdoor tables or on sandy beaches back in Qing’s homeland. Qing felt even more uneasy. The golden palanquin was a matter of dignity, but wasn’t this more about respecting elders, or was it elder mistreatment? Not that the elder seemed frail in any way. Wei Ba-seon flashed a meaningful smile. Undeniably orchestrated—a grin with a spiteful edge, no doubt. With a sour expression, Qing stepped into the palanquin. Even the gold felt stiff beneath her... As they set off, in the midst of that rain, lines of martial artists stood at either side, saluting. “Have a safe journey, Instructor!” “We’ll be awaiting your return, Instructor!” “Oh, Instructor! Our dear Instructor!” The last one’s voice echoed as if they were standing atop a desk—oh, you fool. Why am I your instructor... well, technically, yes, I am. Despite the rain, Qing acknowledged the warm farewell with a subtle, embarrassed glance. Everything else was fine, but riding in this gaudy, gold-plated, unsophisticated palanquin—it was hard to show her face. Who on earth came up with this thing? Was it designed to embarrass people? Anyway, like this. Off to Beijing we go.