790 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

[The Journey to Zen] It seems like this world is determined to turn me into Yeon Sul. But Qing can't bring herself to believe it. Is it a subtle sense of rejection? Perhaps because of this damn state window? The endless tasks shoved at me, the strange texts in the air waking me up in the face of danger, interfering with me under the guise of guidance. Then what about those walkthroughs from my past life? What about the rest of the state window? The tasks? My monstrous strength, stamina, and recovery? The automatic language translation from the Hangul patch? A return of the soul through a Guizhou ceremony? Did I perfectly time it? Discovered a game in my homeland, eerily matching the world of Zhongyuan, just like my past life. Installed it, created a character akin to Yeon Sul without realizing it, and upon clicking to start the journey, I was drawn into my past life’s body? How can I believe this? Am I now Yeon Sul, in what is not a game but my past life? Oh, I see. Unless your mind is a blooming garden, or you’re a complete fool, who could believe such utter nonsense? Qing's expression hardens as she ponders. "Alright, let’s assume that. Then can my memories from the Yeon Sul days be restored?" “Your Highness, once the spirit is bleached in Naraka and disappears, it cannot be retrieved by any means. To put it literally, memories are like words carved into iron plates; just as the metal was melted in Naraka and turned back into raw ingot form." Ashiya replies while doing a handstand. “Oh, right. It’s more like an iron tool (鐵器) than a plate. The mind is shaped through life experiences but is melted into pure, unshaped iron upon release from the body and reaching Naraka? I’m sorry but…” “So it's impossible? See, I knew it." Yes, that's right. This world, or the state window, considers people foolish. Assuming my body is indeed Yeon Sul's and my soul likewise, then what? So that makes me Yeon Sul? That's... Oh, right. Qing suddenly realizes the source of her aversion. It’s not that it’s unbelievable, nor that she doesn’t want to believe—it’s none of that. It simply isn’t true from the start. Even if, for the sake argument, I was Yeon Sul in a past life. What does that have to do with me? My past life is someone entirely different from the person I am now. Even if I reincarnated, I can never become Yeon Sul. The reason I fall into pointless dilemmas, packaged as confusion, is but one—it’s tempting. Simply because Yeon Sul was a good person. Yeon Sul was loved and knew how to love others wholeheartedly. Perhaps the sequence is reversed. It might be because Yeon Sul was that kind of person that love flowed freely. What if Yeon Sul had been a vile villain? If, due to being in Yeon Sul's body and possessing Yeon Sul's soul, I found myself surrounded by enemies, with all of Zhongyuan’s people spitting at me in disdain, called a filthy wretch? Surely, resentment, annoyance, and anger would boil over. If scorned for deeds I hadn’t committed, and faces unknown enemies swinging their swords to square off for past transgressions I never committed, what could possibly be more frustrating? Naturally, I would have firmly declared that I am different from that past person and that all of it is irrelevant. But Yeon Sul is a good person. A person missed dearly by everyone who cherished her. How comfortable and appealing a story that is. Simply acknowledging ‘I am Yeon Sul’ would allow me to reap the benefits, enjoying the fruits of Yeon Sul's love effortlessly. Thus, everyone is taking me lightly. Of course, I too am a pathetic small person who swallows sweetness and spits out bitterness. But still, flaunting straightforwardly, ‘here, have it, it’s good, why not just pretend to be Yeon Sul and enjoy the esteem’—it’s not good, not at all. Acting as someone else, living another’s life and connections because it brings gain without loss? It’s ridiculous. Meanwhile, a woman exerting unnecessary energy for no reason begins to show fatigue. Ashiya starts to perspire heavily. "Um, Your Highness...? Would you kindly let me be forgiven…? It’s surprisingly tiring…" "Well, forgiveness or not, that’s not for me to decide." "How merciful of you, Your Highness…" Qing chuckled softly. My mind feels somewhat lighter, if I may say. At least you won’t have Yeon Sul shedding tears of blood from the afterlife holding grudges against me. Oh, right. “Then who is acting as Yeon Sul in the palace now?” “Well, a courtesan from Geonpyeong, closely resembling the most beautiful lady of the court, was brought in to fill that role.” “How have they not been found out?” “No one suspects a thing…” By sharing loose recollections of Yeon Sul’s past while serving in the palace, it was surprisingly simple to impersonate Yeon Sul. Indeed, nobody would dare imagine switching a princess. After all, if one survives near death, would it not result in some change? Adding tidbits of past memories scattered like pieces of a puzzle. Hearing this, even I might have been deceived. I am not Yeon Sul. Because I truly am not. And to affirm this, I must break off the remaining ties. Therefore, Your Highness, your daughter, Princess Yeon Sul has already long departed. Before you stands not Yeon Sul, but Seo Mun Qing; even if our body and soul appear similar, we cannot be the same being. “Why do you keep glancing? Oh, is the melon not to your taste? Granted, we’re past summer, and the abundance of water has diluted the sweetness, yet.” “No, it’s not that.” I was wrong. I should clarify to Her Highness, sending Yeon Sul off, affirming that it’s not her and setting this matter to rest. Hm, but I find myself unable to. How could I possibly tell a mother who has lost her child that her daughter is already dead and that I am not her daughter? Qing just couldn’t be so heartless. To be precise, she was quite harsh, but only when it came to those who showed her affection, she would simply melt away, completely softened. “Um, Your Highness.” “Yes, my daughter.” Qing tries to steal herself once more. “Well, if I may, what is it that truly constitutes a person’s existence as an individual? Even if the body is the same, if there are no memories, and one cannot share the same recollections—that sounds odd, but if all shared emotions are different from before, can that really be considered the same person...” The Empress gently strokes Qing's head resting on her thigh. “Yes. It seems hard to accept, doesn’t it? But it’s alright.” Suddenly, there's an identity crisis. “That’s not it—” “Do you remember the last promise you made to me? Even if you were to die and be reborn, you would remain my daughter, and in a way, you have kept that promise. You have returned to your mother, reborn.” “Oh, that’s...” “It’s the same with me. Just as you said you would be my daughter if you were reincarnated, your mother also wished the same. No matter what you are reborn as, your mother would willingly embrace you, so there’s no need to worry about such things.” “No, it’s not that, it’s just that I’m a different person—” “Yes. I see. My daughter.” Hmm. This isn’t going to work. It’s not working. Qing gave up neatly. The Empress has already made up her mind, so even if Qing says she’s not her daughter, she truly won’t listen to human words. Qing smiles wryly. Isn’t it just the nature of people to be so shameless? If someone suddenly appeared and claimed you owed them a million gold from a past life. Whether it’s a million or just a few coins, you’d tell them to buzz off, accusing them of nonsense. But if they said you left a million gold in a past life they'd return to you, it would surely pique interest. Even if it’s not wealth, but affection. Perhaps the anxious elements within me— If driven out from the martial world for being a Heavenly Slaughter Star or using demonic arts, being assured of a place to belong is comforting. But what to do when born so cunning? Even the parting gestures from Hyeryu and Madame Deok were surprisingly straightforward. “Though my heart wishes to accompany you, forgive me for being bound within the palace. Hehe, next time, bring the young one with you.” “Your Highness, having seen you in good health, I could die with no regret. No, I might still have some. My lifelong wish was to serve your young one. So, next time, please consider this humble one and show me the young one at least.” Though "young one" can mean many things, here it referred to the young descendants of the royal family. Of course, Qing had absolutely no desire to bring Zayo into such tumultuous internal affairs. The unexpected reaction came from Gabia. “Your Highness, the grace you have shown us, I will etch it into my heart for eternity. Can’t you stay? I am now a body that cannot be without you. How could you, to me, oh?” Seeing Gabia genuinely crying moved even Qing. Although Gabia was the tie she regretted more. Hyeryu was bidding farewell to Princess Yeon Sul, but Gabia was bidding farewell to Qing, Seo Mun Qing. “To abandon the princess and go elsewhere, after taming so well, you’d be better off trampling over me! You can’t leave, you can’t! Wah, really, literally trample over me, huuung.” Qing delicately stepped over the prone Gabia, finally making her way through the rear gate of the Forbidden City, the Shenwu Gate. The protocol is that the Commissioner of Twelve Divisions departs discreetly without anyone knowing. Even the appointment is traditionally received alone in secret with the emperor rather than publicly before officials, so this could be expected. Thus, a successful escape from the Forbidden City! Once outside, even the air felt different. The air within the palace was oppressive and stifling. After all, the Forbidden City is intensely confined, surrounded by a towering wall, with territory after territory closed off. Yet for the countless people who must live their entire lives inside that space—ugh, it’s horrifying. It seems Qing is not suited to palace life. ---- Ten days later. Righteous Orthodox Martial Academy, main entrance. Qing had earnestly hurried back. Nevertheless, the journey from Beijing to the Academy was not trivial by any means. The distance was roughly two thousand li, equivalent to traveling from Seoul to Busan and back to Seoul again, a considerable round trip. Thus, Qing returned to the Martial Academy during early autumn, when the sun was still blazing but nights carried a hint of chill. News of Qing’s return quickly reached someone who dashed out immediately. Though with the current class schedule occurring in broad daylight, it would be peculiar for anyone to come out and greet her. Instructors and assistants were teaching, Zayo was attending class, though Gunae might be playing—who would inform Gunae? But what is this, why emerge there? Using Qingong, a familiar face was racing toward her, a face Qing had not expected. “Huh. What’s this, why are you popping out here?” “What on earth? How could you spring this on me? If you had told me you’d become an instructor, I would have taken the academy councillor position ages ago, but now finding out late, Qing-a, you didn’t even want to see me, right? Driven by only the desire to see you, I ran from Sichuan all the way here, how could you be so indifferent?” Initially offered the position of an academy councillor but had initially scoffed, ‘Why go there? Funny. Do you think I’ll go if you call me? Ridiculous,’ declining it in the first instant. And then recently arrived to take the position, ousting the original councillor. Tang Nanah, finally meeting her again. This occurred just before the end of the current academic schedule at the Righteous Orthodox Martial Academy.