787 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

Behind every monumental feat, believed beyond human capability, there lingers an aura of reverence. Qing's demonstration of a single move was enough to send shivers down one's spine; the collective gaze was drawn in respect for that majestic strike. “But how dare you, the Imperial Palace, the brilliant sanctuary of history spanning over a thousand years!” A mouth that trashed reverence in a single breath. Moreover, what’s this about a thousand-year history, when the Forbidden City is merely two hundred years old, making it newly built by Zhongyuan standards. “Why impose responsibility on me for this? If I hadn't retaliated but evaded instead, the foundation may have collapsed entirely! And a thousand years? The Forbidden City is just over two hundred years old now!” A voice full of earnestness and grievances. Yet Qing couldn't let it slide and retorted fiercely. “Who was responsible for protecting the Forbidden Palace? Regardless of who smashed it, if such destruction wasn't prevented, it's the fault of the one in charge of defense! And what about two hundred years? The thousand-year spirit of Zhonghua is imbued in it, and to belittle the Emperor's abode—how barbaric of you! You, a savage! No, you are the savage itself!” “That is.” Bum Yakgong flinched. The logic was undeniable, like blaming the guards if a thief entered one's home. “Reducing Zhonghua's history to a mere thousand years! Thousands of ancestors before the Tang dynasty—” “Ancestors? A rebellious traitor daring to speak of ancestors! A terrifying renegade who attempted regicide dares to mention forebears?” “What, plotting to assassinate the Emperor? Who dares—” "Silence! You, secretly scheming at night without a soul around, dared to encroach upon the Emperor's throne and sat upon it, making you a rebel all along!” Every time he opened his mouth, unfounded slander poured out. It escalated naturally from palace destroyer to savage, and from savage to someone conspiring regicide with utter baselessness. Yet, rather than retort, Bum Yakgong widened his eyes and assumed a look of astonishment. “Huh. What? Did you actually sit on the Imperial Throne?” “No, no! Who on earth would covet—” “Wow, so he was a traitor indeed! Citizens, or rather, esteemed nobles! Look here, this old man's audacious claim. Told to guard the throne, yet he sat there claiming to be the Emperor, haha.” And so, everyone’s gaze shifted toward Bum Yakgong. Really? Sitting on the throne at night? Bum Yakgong's face turned red. Whether that flushed face was from indignation or embarrassment, only he could know. However, his inability to retort with pursed lips suggested the latter. This was the venom of a tongue, poisonous like a viper's, sowing discord. Bum Yakgong attempted to preserve his dignity, but Qing, abandoning any consideration for dignity, dragged his adversary down into the mud along with him, using a skill akin to grappling at someone's hair. Qing had always been far removed from notions of authority or dignity, preferring to be seen as a humorous and approachable person rather than someone stern and serious. Hence, Qing was a rather cunning woman. Being amusing even at one's own expense posed no loss for Qing. In Zhongyuan, especially for elder figures or those of high rank, dignity was something more cherished than life itself. So, plunging both into the mud, but forcing unilateral loss—a crafty, despicable, and wicked strategy! “You, me, and our trinity, dragging the mighty together into the abyss.” “Daring to mock the sacred Heavenly Mandate! I, the youthful hero Ximen Qing, won't forgive you in the name of justice!” Bang! Qing stepped out forcefully. At the thunderous sound, the palace guards, stunned by the absurd argument, immediately snapped back to their senses and initiated an assault. The palace guards had already been gathering swiftly, so even during the brief argument, a significant number had joined them. Bum Yakgong's sword traced circles repeatedly. While countless blades dissipated, the sharp momentum that once allowed him to wield one enemy's weapon against another was absent. This was due to Yeon Sul rushing in. Her sword traced a circle for minimal self-defense, but within her heart, infinite Taiji was being drawn, reserving her strength to eventually unleash the grandeur of the Taiji when the moment of collision arrived. Her last opportunity to retrieve the Formless Technique and escape this peril— Suddenly, Bum Yakgong's eyebrows twitched. Why rush in, Yeon Sul? It's possible her innate nature sympathizes with the dying palace guards, but to rush forward despite having such formidable throwing daggers? Bum Yakgong's gaze grew sharp. Her figure rushed in, brandishing the sword. But then. Splitting into multiple phantoms and scattering in all directions. A breathtaking demonstration of the exquisite ability of her Dispersing Phantasm Step. Bum Yakgong’s eyes gleamed sharply. Splitting into eight, bewildering foes but inevitably appearing behind them—a mere flawed technique. As the translucent Qing landed on the ground. Bum Yakgong's form scattered, springing up into the air, his sword flashing. Bum Yakgong's sword descended vertically, aiming at Qing’s crown as she unfolded into a lean from a crouched position. Slaaash! The sword thrust toward Qing’s crown. Boring from the crown through to the groin to cleave her in half—a relentless sword strike! But, a miss! The split Qing vanished from sight. A futile chase of a mirage. “Take this!” Riding on the back of a guard, Qing shouted, stretching her left arm. Drawing back a sword again for an extended retreat, positioning her foot with readiness to leap upon the ground. The return of the sword-throwing art that shattered the Forbidden Palace. With urgency, Bum Yakgong turned, bracing with a hand on the blade, building up steel Qi. Gritting his teeth to brace against the approaching impact, Qing finally thrust out her sword. Swish. Qing's sword pierced the empty air. A mere bluff that mimicked a sword throw. Ximen Qing's Own Unique Lone Nine Swords - Without Venom, No True Man. She had modified a technique to reduce recoil by simply tossing the sword instead of thrusting it. However, releasing over thirty percent of her inner Qi concentrated in her dantian in that fleeting moment still meant there was no way to soften the impact of such an immense Qi striking her meridians, even if she was already in the Transcendent Transformation Realm. Of course, she could release even more if she intended to. But, why bother? The best way to instill fear is to give a massive blow, and once that fear is established, a simple threat will suffice in the future. Instead, Ding! The bell sound of Buddha’s Divine Palm, and Bum Yakgong’s head tilted slightly back, but soon his gaze, full of anger, locked onto Qing. But only for a moment. “Die!” “You traitorous scum!” For Qing wasn't alone. Having always fought against many, now being among the multitude felt incredibly reassuring. Ah, so this is why people gang up on one another. Bum Yakgong’s sword traced gentle circles, guarding all directions. Yet there was no longer the fierce splatter of blood as before. Unlike the crimson-eyed guards of the Golden Guards, the harmonious coordination among the eunuchs of the Eastern Depot was akin to expert craftsmanship. Three or four rushed in simultaneously, some supporting from behind, speeding up, pulling at dangerous threats, targeting front, back, left, and right, moving freely. A continuous clang of metal clashing. Moreover, at some point, the clear-eyed guards replaced the crimson-eyed ones, evidently being the real experts with distinct agility. Qing adjusted by pulling back her elbow. Feigning as if she’d shoot any moment, aiming with her left hand, causing Bum Yakgong, already overwhelmed, to consistently sneak glances at her. “Hiyah!” Qing thrust her sword. A thrust rich in momentum. Bum Yakgong flinched. In a split second, a blade slashed at his back. His aged body reeled, and then Qi flashed as if taking advantage of the opportunity. “Hurrah! Die!” Qing shouted, thrusting her sword once more. If Bum Yakgong were struck while losing his balance with his heart pounding, survival wasn't assured! Desperately, Bum Yakgong flung himself. But the only thing awaiting him were the kicks and blades of the palace guards. A thrice consecutive bluff, the Triple Concealed Strike. “Argh!” That’s when it happened. A streak of light flew towards Bum Yakgong. Bang! With a huge crash, Bum Yakgong’s form shook violently. Qing blinked, puzzled, who shot that? Her eyes darted around. On the wall stood a warrior in armor. Holding a bow as large as himself with menacing arrows protruding from his back akin to spears. Moreover, on either side, similarly dressed warriors had sprung up, drawing their bows and aiming in this direction. Ah, so there really is archery martial arts. Well, obviously, there’s no reason there shouldn’t be... The reason there aren't any archers in Murim was because the officials completely suppressed them. The once mighty officials before the Great Celestial Martial Emperor eradicated all archery techniques, so even when considerably weakened, the bow never became mainstream. So, why did the officials suppress archery? Qing comprehended quite clearly. They wanted all the great things for themselves... Golden Guards, the eunuchs of the Eastern Depot, and the archers perched atop the walls. Qing didn’t even need to feign another bluff posture. No matter how exceptional Bum Yakgong was, several others from even the Transformation Realm present posed a formidable challenge. In addition to being cautious of Qing’s throwing sword, they had to contend with skilled formations, while arrows imbued with Qi flew in between to disrupt the flow. The longer it lasted, the more evident it became that Bum Yakgong was losing his strength, and his old body was turning into a painful decoration adorned with iron arrows. At this point, one might say the end was near without Qing needing to interfere. And then, it happened. “Argh!” Bum Yakgong's figure quickly approached. Could he still have the strength to break through their encirclement? How monstrous must someone in the Profound Realm be? Qing watched Bum Yakgong charge at her. His pupils narrowed, whites bloodshot, gritted teeth, and a face that embodied pure hatred. In Bum Yakgong’s eyes, Qing was reflected. Ready to unleash her formidable throwing technique once more, with an indifferent gaze and the face of an unrivaled beauty. Qing’s sword aura extended outward. A thick, red sunset aura emanated brilliantly, projecting more of a club than a sword. Starlight rested upon Bum Yakgong’s sword as well. An intent to expend absolutely everything he had left, dazzlingly bright in one martial artist’s last strike defying death. And at that collision— Qing’s form scattered into eight, vanishing. Bum Yakgong’s sword strike sliced through the air futilely. With Qing appearing sideways behind him, palace guards brushed past him to execute the traitor. Because she didn’t want to indulge him. What did I do to deserve such a fearsome killing spree? If I had that Formless Technique or whatever, it might be justifiable. These senile old men demanding what doesn’t exist with their swords like maniacs. Qing turned around. True to the saying, 'In numbers, there is no match for strength', a weary old man, weakened by sword slashes, punches, and arrows, stood there. Finally, slam! Bum Yakgong's sword snapped and flew away. With a sharp signal, the palace guards collectively retreated. A pitiful sight befell Bum Yakgong. Huge iron bolts embedded in his back, shoulders, and arms, his garment slashed and turned into rags, soaked with blood from his flesh. Breathing heavily, desperately gasping for air.