771 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

Due to the uproar caused by the Empress's fainting, the audience ceremony ended incomplete and unresolved. After all, the Empress had collapsed in protest of the Crown Prince's marriage proposal, creating an atmosphere where even the Emperor could not bring it up any further. When the Empress opened her eyes, it was already the middle of the night. The first words she uttered upon awakening were, “Bring me the Heavenly Sword Flower(天華) at once.” The resolve in her voice was so firm that even the seasoned old maids attending her instinctively swallowed their nervosity. Originally, Qing was under what might be considered house arrest. Preparing for the audience, no one dared to summon her prematurely, and she was residing deep within the Crown Prince's palace, inaccessible to outsiders. But now, having met the Emperor, things had changed. Although still stationed at the Hilbangjeon, preventing any random visits, she was now in a position where she could be summoned. Thus, an emissary from the Empress arrived at Hilbangjeon, conveying Her Majesty’s summons. “How is Her Majesty doing?” “That is not for you to inquire. Do you even have the right to be concerned?” The elder matron’s voice was cold and cutting. It was an uncomfortable reminder that the enquirer was the cause of the Empress’s distress. Qing might have felt it was unjust. Who asked to become a Crown Princess? Even if Qing had pleaded for it, such a thing would be utterly impossible—an absolute impossibility. Summoning a busy person only to leave them in the dark, and then this is suddenly what they face. In truth, under current circumstances, Qing could be considered the greatest victim. Yet Qing kept her lips sealed. Oh dear. How could she have predicted the Empress would be so shaken? She should have been more considerate. Maybe she should have feigned illness more convincingly... Only after the Empress collapsed did Qing realize with a start. To Qing, the Empress was just the mother of her host body, causing a vague, heavy guilt, and discomfort towards the original owner’s mother. For the Empress, however, it was like suddenly hearing her daughter was terminally ill. Yet, there was no way around it. Qing had no means to contact the Empress, beyond perhaps sending a transmission in that setting; it was all she could do. But a transmission isn’t some mystical prowess or the ability to send telepathic waves. It’s merely a technique that uses the cosmic mystery and pure energy of inner strength to transmit a voice to a point—directed sound wave emission. Naturally, she had to face the Empress and mouthing the words would not go unnoticed, revealing that a transmission was sent. The mere act of sending a transmission to the Empress in that scenario would have been a major issue. Besides, if one is to feign illness, it needs to be convincingly significant. In that situation, a minor pretense wouldn’t have sufficed either. At that moment, observing Lady Dukseong packing the lanterns, the expression of the palace maid twisted unpleasantly. “The Empress only asked to see the Heavenly Sword Flower, not to bring along all those sycophants. Lady Dukseong, why are you even here? You belong in Yeongsugung; your presence here is baffling.” “Miss Jo, there seems to be some misunderstanding—” “Lady Dukseong, you know better. While it is clear that you care for the Crown Prince, it's also important to rebuke him for his missteps. Yet, you're assisting that vile creature?” “What are you saying?” “Am I wrong?” “Oh dear, no, my.” Lady Dukseong clutched her chest in frustration. Miss Jo's gaze was sharp and piercing as she responded. “Miss Jo, you see—” “Hmph. You, Haeryu, how much of Her Majesty's grace have you received? And yet, you stoop to serving that undeserving wench, an act no animal would commit.” “That's not it—oh, dear me.” Next to Lady Dukseong, Haeryu mirrored her posture, striking her chest. Miss Jo’s wrath was justified, driven by concern for Her Majesty and hatred for the one who caused this uproar. Thus, while Qing bore the reproach, she felt neither aggrieved nor offended. Yet she couldn’t casually reveal that the true princess, who the Empress wanted to see, was standing right before her, nor assure that there'd be no imminent danger. It wasn’t something she could easily disclose. So, all Qing could do was remain frustrated internally. Meanwhile, Miss Jo’s glare was sharp. What, do you have something to say? Gabi immediately lowered her eyes silently. “Hmph. Let’s move on, then.” Thereupon, Qing was encircled by palace maids and eunuchs. Their hostility was tangible, as if they were escorting a criminal. However, Qing’s spirits remained unbroken. Ah, the Empress must have many virtuous followers. Thus, they departed Hilbangjeon, crossed the front gate of Namsamso, passed the stone paths to the left of the main hall, and traversed through Bongsunjeon, crossing the central avenue of Dongyukgung... Hmm. But isn't this a very long walk? It truly was. From the Hilbangjeon of Namsamso to Jangchungung of Seyukgung, they had to walk nearly three li. Moreover, no palace attendant walks quickly. Their small steps resembled hurried scurrying, but for those in Zhongyuan(Central Plains), it’s a notably slow pace. Thus, a slow procession passed by. Gathering attention, the line carrying lanterns made its way steadily, inviting curious faces from every palace they passed. Recognizing Miss Jo, the Empress’s confidante, and piecing together the cloaked figure as the massive one surrounding the prisoner made it easy to deduce. It seemed clear that Her Majesty had summoned the Heavenly Sword Flower. Could this cause a massive commotion tonight? Indeed, Miss Jo was deliberately walking even slower. She intended for the entire palace to hear the rumors, hoping Qing would be humiliated in the middle of the night. After walking through endless pairs of prying eyes, they finally arrived at Jangchung Palace! The maids of Jangchung Palace, perceiving the spectacle, were already out with lights, and hostile gazes pounded on Qing the moment she arrived. “Your Majesty, Ximen Qing has been presented—” —Let her in. Even before Miss Jo could finish her sentence, a sharp response cut across. Miss Jo was slightly taken aback. Typically, at times like these, they would pretend not to hear, making people repeat themselves, and then delay with all sorts of excuses, letting the subject kneel in the courtyard to be shamed for an extended period. Such was the customary method for noblewomen to instill discipline in their underlings within the palace. The attendants at Jangchung Palace were expecting just that, hence their smug occupation of the space. Yet, how eager she sounds, inviting her directly like this? No matter how anxious she was about the Crown Prince, to skip the public shaming and disgrace just for this impudent girl? Miss Jo, just in case, tried once more. “Your Majesty, Ximen Qing—” —Let her in, now. The impatient answer came again. At this, Miss Jo gave Qing a sharp look, as if to signal she was lucky this time, and what choice did she have but to follow orders? Thus, Qing cautiously entered. The Empress, whose lips appeared pale and weakened after just half a day, struggled to lift her body when she saw Qing. Guilt swelled inside Qing. The truth was, when Qing met the Empress again, she had wanted to speak plainly. Though this body belonged to Yeon-Sul, currently, she was not Yeon-Sul but Ximen Qing of the Jianghu, the Lone Nine Swordswoman. Simply sharing the same body did not make her Yeon-Sul. Nor should it. Surely, the spirit of Yeon-Sul might be shedding tearful curses from the underworld... But standing before her, how could she say such things? Anyone who knew Qing might scoff at her resolve. Which girl, thinking like this, would lie back with her head resting and whimsically munch on fruit? In the face of affection, there was no one easier than Qing, who naturally melted and became disarmed. “Everyone leave.” “Your Majesty!” “Now. I have something to discuss alone.” At that, Miss Jo's anger peaked. “That cannot happen! Your Majesty! Qing is a Jianghu fighter, a butcher who cuts down people, uncultured and drawing a sword at the slightest dissatisfaction! How can we leave Your Majesty alone with such a vicious murderer!” The Empress's brows twitched. “It’s absolutely unacceptable! At the very least, leave me with you! If this nefarious wench decides to do harm, please let me stop her!” The Empress's brows twitched and twitched. Yet she finally let out a heavy sigh. She knew Miss Jo’s words stemmed from loyalty, as much a warning to Qing as a plea to her. Not knowing the situation, it’s understandable... “Very well. Only Miss Jo remains. The rest will leave. This is an order. Now go.” At this, the palace maids who were about to follow Miss Jo gulped down their breaths. Thus, only Qing, the Empress, and Miss Jo remained in the room. “Come here. Let me look at you. I must see what state you’re in. How ill you must be to receive such a fate... Oh, how wretched my fortune is.” “Your Majesty, it's dangerous—” “Hush, Yujeong. It’s all right. Come here, child.” “Uh, Your Majesty, before that, I have something to say—” “Do you need to witness your mother dying before you would come closer? This heartless girl, still sitting with your face hidden. Really, huh?” So what could she do? Qing hesitantly approached the Empress. The Empress herself lifted Qing's veil, cradling and feeling her face, tears glistening at the corner of her eyes. “Poor thing, why is your face so pale and distressed? So beautiful, yet... Oh, I should have brought you to the palace sooner. It’s my dreadful revenge that delayed dealing with the impostor. If I had brought you sooner, you wouldn’t have had to fight that dreadful villain. Are you very sick? Are you uncomfortable?” “Well, Your Majesty, in truth—” “What’s making you so stiff, come here and comfort—! The poor thing.” “Ahem, well, actually—” “Don’t say such things. In this hot summer, you’re as cold as ice. Poor thing, my poor daughter, I’m sorry, your mother is sorry, please tell me truthfully. How... how much time do you have left...?” “Well, Your Majesty, actually, I'm perfectly healthy.” “No, you’re hiding it somewhere. Your hands, they’re as cold as ice. Oh, in this summer, how are you so frozen? Hiding it doesn’t do any good. Do you mean to break your mother’s heart twice by keeping her in the dark? If so, I won’t let you go alone, I’ll follow you there...” The heartfelt grief of a mother with a terminally ill child. But... hmm. Still not listening... In the midst of this confusing situation, not comprehending or understanding, Miss Jo stood with wide eyes, as if her soul had left her body, and Qing spoke again. It’s all just a pretense, a facade. She couldn’t allow the idea of her and the Crown Prince forming such, ah, a relationship too terrible to even voice. They just needed a strong excuse the Emperor couldn’t ignore. “Is it true?” “Yes, really.” “Truly, is it true? No truth hidden?” “Yes. I’m completely healthy, so there’s nothing to worry—” “Ow! You thoughtless child!” “Argh!” Smack! The Empress’s hand smacked Qing soundly on the back. Of course, Qing's body wasn’t feeble enough to be damaged by a mere slap from an elderly woman. In truth, even if the Empress had struck with an iron mace or a sharp blade, it would have hardly left a scratch on Qing's skin. However, not being injured doesn't mean it isn't painful. It's not unbearable, but unexpectedly, her hits are quite strong. Of course, for someone of the Transformation Realm(화경), enduring the pain of a blow infused with a mother's fury is manageable, and one could even retaliate if needed. Yet, just enduring it silently isn't an option, and retaliation is certainly out of the question. So the best course of action is to pretend to be more hurt than she actually is. Qing exaggeratedly flailed around, rubbing her back as if she couldn't reach it, theatrically rolling around the room, making a huge fuss about how much it hurt. She was desperately trying to signal her pain with a comical display. Witnessing this, Miss Jo's expression shifted to one of pure shock, slowly murmuring to herself, as if the very sight defied belief. “Princess...?”