785 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

Qing leapt through the distorted space using the mystical steps of Lingual Wave Steps. So it was that Qing appeared in the place marked by the nameless high-ranking official. Yet, who else in this world could perform such miraculous feats other than Qing? Thus, for Beomyak-gong to follow, he’d either have to break through the obstacles posed by the officials blocking his way or wait for them to step aside and create a path for him. Beomyak-gong chose the former, charging forward without hesitation. Bursting through the mass of unarmed officials was akin to the fury of a killing chariot, like a massive carriage rolling down a slope with unstoppable momentum. The problem was this rampaging chariot was now airborne. An airborne killing chariot! The aged martial artist's form, cutting a straight line through the air, suddenly filled Qing's field of vision. Qing immediately rolled across the ground. A retreat is a shame for a martial artist, yet who among them wouldn't roll when faced with imminent danger? "Awk! Wah! Wuwah!" Yet the sounds echoing were somewhat unbecoming. It wasn’t a scream of fear. It was a tactic to disturb and confuse the opponent to the fullest extent. This was a habit honed through years of real combat experience. In the whirling chaos of the world, the ceiling, the walls, pillars, the floor, the elderly man, and the flashing foot were rapidly turning. Qing’s left arm smacked the ground of the Royal Pavilion, and with the violent rebound of the defensive maneuver, she was flung to the opposite side. Bang! The air split with an ear-splitting sound, the floor erupted like an explosive device, causing the wooden structure of the Royal Pavilion to vibrate and countless fragments to pummel the body. "Kraak!" "Save me!" "Minister, sir!" The Royal Pavilion was filled with shouts and screams. Officials twisted their bodies, shouting and stumbling upon each other in their retreat, falling over those already downed in the chaos. Minister! You must evacuate! Even amidst the chaos, some were taking care of their superiors, "Hurry, get up!" caring for and supporting one another... These were the great ministers who governed the nation, yet amidst a calamity-like disorder, each one revealed their human nature, no different from the masses. Deng! The sound of a great bronze bell added to the chaos. A thud and the sound of a collision, Beomyak-gong's body was sent flying. Yet Beomyak-gong's posture, the sword leading him with his intense eyes fixed straight on Qing, remained steady as he stood upright. Qing sprang to her feet and quickly extended her hands. The gesture seemed frivolous and clumsy, as if slapping the air with her palms. But once the bloody handprints she made one after another became visible, the majestic presence of a formidable secret art was undeniable. Those bloody handprints finally formed one giant palm. Qing thrust out her palms with all her might. The extended palms. Then, the colossal bloody handprint of the Maitreya Buddha shot forth like a massive red pillar! This was the secret art of the Tantric Sect, the Mahamudra Hand Seal. Beomyak-gong's sword turned to the rear. Faced with the mighty judgment of the giant Maitreya Buddha’s red handprint, he remained completely unaffected, calmly inhaling before slicing through the space on a diagonal. The art of cutting without sequence, where intent is set, and the sword immediately follows, a skill known as the state of Mind That Acts. In that moment, Qing's extended palms grasped and pulled the air. The giant Maitreya Buddha's handprint disintegrated into small handprints and retreated backward. The slash from Beomyak-gong’s sword cutting through the air. The small handprints formed a semicircle that set their position, and when the sword sliced through and exited— Qing extended her palms again! Already, hundreds of handprints surrounded Beomyak-gong from all directions, descending upon his entire body. Mahamudra(大手印) Seven Seconds. As one desires, Yet without loss (如意而不失). The Buddha's wish leaves nothing unaccomplished. At that instant, Beomyak-gong's arms extended upward and downward. Clearly, one arm, viewed physically, moved gently in opposite directions that did and did not exist, drawing a soft circle. An inexplicable, yet gentle and natural rotation of swordsmanship, where the light rises and becomes heavy, descending again in a grand cycle, defining inevitable truth in its rotation. The handprints bounced back in all directions. Pop! The sound of a hundred fireworks exploding. In the Royal Pavilion, Zhongyuan’s most esteemed hall, numerous handprints left behind by the explosion of bloody Qi. Damn it, what kind of ridiculous martial art is that? And Buddha missing nothing is nonsense, everything's just bouncing off without even touching! If Amitabha Abbot heard this, he'd say of course they bounce off since you’re not Buddha, reaching Buddha’s state would have crushed everything into pulp instantly, evangelizing this as a chance to reach the Buddha if you just enter the Tantric Sect right away. Qing extended her palms once more. Deng! Deng! Deng! The gong with a long tail rang discordantly, overlapping and reverberating, a noisy clamor impossible from a bell, an irritating sound. Hovering Buddha's Divine Palm in the right hand, Mahamudra in the left. The unseen, coarse force and the slow, bloody force swimming languidly converged on the opponent in syncopation. But Beomyak-gong swung his sword lightly. Each step, leisurely advancing. Waving his blade with leisure as if shooing a fly. But each time, the walls and doors behind Beomyak-gong crumbled with a crashing sound. The explosive force of Buddha's Divine Palm and the bloody handprints were all lightly dismissed and deflected. And so step by step. Qing’s heart thudded. Wow, damn, so this is a monster of the Profound Realm, an earthly horror. "Wait! Can't we just talk this out?" Beomyak-gong paused. Then smiled. A savage grin, like a beast revealing its teeth, yet seemingly satisfied. "Buddha's Divine Palm and Mahamudra. For two Buddhist secret arts to be wielded by one pair of hands. Remarkable indeed." "Uh, yeah... Ah, yes, indeed. Maybe I should visit India? Since I’m already collecting, if I also learn the secret arts of Indian Buddhism, wouldn’t that make a perfect trinity? Become even more remarkable, no?" Qing just decided to say anything. To which Beomyak-gong nodded. "An excellent idea. Do so." "Uh, really? Then, I’ll head to India right now—" "I'm saying I will do so. Using the Formless Fist Technique. Since I must leave Zhongyuan anyway, I might as well—" "Wait! Wait!" Qing interrupted Beomyak-gong mid-sentence with a shout. Beomyak-gong’s eyebrow twitched. "Why do you interrupt my words? Regardless of your noble status, the court's decorum—" "You were going to launch an attack while you finished talking, weren’t you? Even now." "Your insight is sharp. Or is that also part of the power of the Formless Technique you mentioned?" "Let’s not do this. Let’s talk. Formless Technique? I can teach you everything." "I’ve told you before. The Formless Technique is the remnant of a mysterious sect that perished long ago in internal strife, possessing formidable power. If it were something that could be shared, such a sect endowed with majestic arts would have no reason to suffer the catastrophic fate they did." Qing’s heart skipped a beat again. There were techniques like the Heavenly Demon Soul, so there could be martial arts that are transmitted through absorption. Which raises the possibility that they might not want to capture and force technique secrets but actually intend to kill. At that moment, Qing's knees buckled. Employing the Iron Plate Bridge technique, Qing bent her knees and lowered her body to be parallel with the ground. With a swoosh, Beomyak-gong’s blade slashed where Qing’s waist had been. Ugh, that old man fights so dirty. It’s probably something Qing himself would do, as humans are naturally unable to objectively view their own actions. Simultaneously, Qing’s right foot kicked upward. The fastest thing in the world, her foot soared between Beomyak-gong's legs, thwack! Argh! Despite the severe pain that came as if every toenail had shattered from the recoil of his protective Qi, Beomyak-gong’s center of gravity was kicked upwards and his body was lifted. Indeed, Qing’s strength was truly that of Ximen Qing. She was renowned throughout the world, a legend known for challenging even the strongest of fighters, so naturally, her name became synonymous with strength. Thus, it was inevitable for the old body, kicked between the legs, to rise. However. Thud. Beomyak-gong landed lightly on the ground. There was simply no sensation. Though the pelvis was close to bone, there’s commonly a critical vulnerability there that cannot be shielded by protective Qi. A tantalizing sensation usually accompanies it, one that crushes reproduction and obliterates the inherent mission to propagate the species. Is he also a eunuch? A eunuch in the Profound Realm! Ah, could that be accurate? Nevertheless! It actually makes sense. While Qing hadn’t considered it, one who guarded the princess would naturally have been a eunuch. "Such a disgraceful technique you’ve adopted." "Can’t we settle this with words? Surely there’s a way to pass on techniques without me having to die, because the sect wouldn’t have ordered members to commit suicide upfront if it wasn't." "The very fact that such a sect kept even their name a secret to the world speaks to their mysteriousness. Who could know if such a way existed?" "Come on, don’t say that—" "No point in delaying." Once more, Beomyak-gong’s form was right in Qing’s face. It was like a surprise strike from a comb-fine stroke. Qing's aim was indeed to delay time. Without a doubt, when the Emperor had been dragged away, hadn’t he issued the imperial order: capture or kill him? Surely expert guards from the palace would swarm to capture this deranged old eunuch, and the plan was to stall until then, somehow. Beomyak-gong was aware and thus pretended to humor him but would suddenly attack. "Whoa!" Qing screamed and composed herself. Lying down, rolling, springing up to leap, sprawling in eight directions, throwing herself to the ground and landing face-first to avoid a murderous energy approaching her back, then dashed away like an animal all on fours without even rubbing her thorned nose. "Whoa, whoa! Argh! Stop! Say no to violence! Stop the violence! I don’t like violence! Eek." She yelled to distract and unnerve the opponent. Unfortunately, her voice was so sweet it lacked the desired effect. Screaming like that, contorting her body into all sorts of twists to escape, Qing’s actions might as well be described as the epitome of disgraceful behavior. Except. Hm? What’s this? This is manageable? It doesn’t come across as particularly lethal for someone of the Profound Realm. It wasn’t exceedingly fast blades she couldn’t handle, nor fierce swordplay trying to demolish everything in its path, nor was it a heavy sword bearing the weight of Mount Tai. Instead, it was a gentle sword, refined. More akin to a protective sword than an assassin’s sword – a practice, a serene defensive technique to hone oneself and further Dao’s path; a very orthodox Taoist lineage. Of course, there were infrequent lightning-quick slashes that seemed to carve through the very air, chilling the heart. However, these unexpectedly hasty strikes didn’t match the swordplay, disrupting the fluidity and allowing for anticipatory moves to dodge, which brought moments of brief respite to draw a full breath at last. This swordplay is... Qing’s expression, initially filled with desperation, began to lighten gradually as urgency started to leave her face. Conversely, Beomyak-gong’s expression began to harden, becoming more rigid. Qing’s eyes brightened. Her alluring lips curved as her devious tongue darted inside, crafting her breath into words that she spat out. "Beomyak-gong, when was the last time you actually fought in a real battle? Oh, wait. Did you ever engage in life-and-death battles as the princess's guard? Aren’t you just a noble swinging your sword in the air from a safe place? Is that the best you can do? Really?" With that, Beomyak-gong’s eyebrows twitched significantly.